“You taught me that, Rose. And I finally learned it,” he told the silent cabin. “I’m going to be all right.”
Then he closed and locked the door, got in his truck and drove toward Denver.
TWENTY-THREE
“Yes, I remember,” Amelia said. “I remember almost everything.” The details of the kidnapping were still hazy and incomplete and probably always would be. It was a huge relief to still remember Amelia. To wake knowing, even if it hurt. It was a relief to have faced the void, to know what was behind the fog that had been her memory. It had been ugly, that last, terrible scene when her father told her he wasn’t her father, had never wanted to be, but it hadn’t killed her. She was still here.
So was the question, who am I?
Amelia seemed to be locked firmly inside Prudence, but the fit was a bad one. It was like wearing a straight jacket. How had she endured it all those years? She knew why she endured it now. The people who flowed in and out of her hospital room were more comfortable with tidy, controlled Prudence. They didn’t even see Amelia peering out of her prison. Until the day Luke came.
If he’d come alone…but he didn’t. He brought his partner Mann with him. And Bryn, the FBI agent. While Prudence smiled politely and invited them to sit down, Amelia studied her with interest. She was also tidy, controlled, but seemed to simmer with a secret satisfaction.
“How’s Dewey?” Prudence asked, her voice cool. Amelia noted the color that bloomed in Bryn’s cheeks at the question.
“He’s fine,” Bryn said, looking down at her notes instead of at Prudence.
Amelia noticed Luke hide a grin behind a cough. Amelia was used to the secret world that simmered beneath outward lives. She’d spent many unnoticed hours people watching. It was easy when people didn’t really see her. It was this awareness that had emboldened her to launch her own secret life.
The truth will out. Her infallible memory failed her when she reached for the source of the saying. Maybe she never knew it. Well, the truth was out now. And with a new question? Who will you be? Prudence or Amelia?
The doctors had decided to keep her under observation for a few days and had her talk to a shrink about her memory loss. She’d done as they asked, her Prudence I polite and reserved. They’d pronounced her healed. Why shouldn’t they? She looked all right. Mostly she was. She was rested now, stronger and ready to face her demons—if she could just shed all the people trying to help her. Well, all of them but Luke. Amelia yearned for him. Prudence, and his closed face, held her in check. Had she dreamed the words she thought he whispered to her on the mountain?
Don’t give up. What had he meant? Don’t give up on life? Or on us?
She had her release in hand, was dressed to find her answers, but they’d arrived needing her statement to wrap up it all up. How easy it was for them, she thought. They type it up and file it neatly away. Her job was much harder. John Knight’s death had left ragged edges and hanging threads that needed to be sorted out. Her guilty secret? She was relieved he was dead. She wouldn’t have to face him again.
She sat like Prudence for them, feet together, hands on her knees, and answered Luke’s questions delivered in a cop voice with answers in her Prudence voice, while Amelia studied Luke hungrily from behind Prudence’s calm gaze. He was so cute, but so distant. The time at the cabin might never have happened if she just looked at his face. When she let her gaze stray beyond that, she noticed the pulse beating in his neck. Beating fast. Inside Prudence, Amelia smiled wickedly. He wasn’t as calm as he looked.
She’d seen the power a woman could have over a man, but this was the first time she could feel that power in herself. Like a baby bird flexing its newly hatched wings, she looked at him, then slowly licked her lips. He twitched so briefly she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it and then tugged at his tie.
Warmth swept through her, delight, too. Both loosened Prudence’s hold on Amelia.
Mann cleared his throat, drawing Amelia’s attention away from Luke. Prudence regarded him politely, one brow arched in inquiry. “I’m a little confused about the Amelia persona?”
“It did confuse the issue, didn’t it?” Amelia said, prudently. She hesitated, then said slowly, “I…respected…John Knight…but he was a…difficult man to live with. Amelia was a way for me to…explore…those facets of my personality that didn’t fit in his life without the media making a connection that would cause him distress.”
“You did a good job of that,” Luke said.
Amelia looked at Luke, her eyes wide. “I always try to do my best at anything I take on, Detective.”
Luke swallowed dryly. He gave a good tug on his tie. Damn, he wished he knew what was going on. She looked so cool, butter couldn’t melt in her mouth if it tried. So why was he seeing her in his bed? Was he hoping the comment was double-edged or was it really double-edged?
“And you say Leslie told you,” Bryn asked, “that he killed your father—”
“He’s not my father,” Amelia said, with composure.
Bryn looked up from her notes, exchanging a quick look with Luke. Amelia’s gaze narrowed sharply, as if she sensed he knew something she didn’t.
“Have you spoken with Donovan Kincaid then?” Bryn said.
It was Amelia’s turn to look puzzled. “No.”
“Then how—”
“My father told me in the hospital. I realize now that he knew he was dying. I guess he wanted to make sure I knew.”
There was no sign of how she’d felt about the revelation, though his heart contracted at the thought of how it must have hurt her. He understood her better now. Only when she felt safe did her reserve fade away. Knight had tried to stamp out the life in Amelia. That he’d failed was a testament to the resiliency of her spirit.
“Why would Mr. Kincaid know Knight wasn’t my father—” she stopped, a flare of awareness in her eyes, before the shutters came down again.
Luke wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her while her mind and her heart, made the adjustment to this new reality. Mann leaned toward him and whispered, “What am I missing here?”
“Later,” Luke mouthed.
“Donovan is here, on another floor, Miss Knight,” Bryn said. “He was injured in the action at the compound. He was hoping you’d stop by.” Her smile was slight and wry. “I don’t think he believes that you’re really all right.”
She blinked twice, then nodded. “Of course. If you’re finished taking my statement?”
“I’m done,” Bryn said. “You done, Luke? Mann?”
“I’m done,” Luke said. Mann echoed his agreement. They rose in uneasy concert.
Bryn held out her hand. “Thank you for your help. I hope—well, take care.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Luke thought he saw a weighted look pass between them as they shook hands, but he could have been wrong. He often was. Mann shook her hand, too, then it was Luke’s turn.
“When you’re through with—your visit, I can run you home.” He hesitated. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Her smile was polite, but he thought he saw something in her eyes. Or maybe he just hoped he did. Maybe when they were alone, the woman who’d kissed him under the pine tree would return.
“Thank you.” Now it was her turn to hesitate. “I’ll try not to be long.”
She walked past him out the door. He stared after her, until he realized Mann and Bryn were both staring at him, trying not to grin.
“What?” he asked.
They shrugged, looked at each, gave in to grins and walked out of the room. Luke followed them, glad of the time to think before he was alone with her again. He’d told her he took intimacy seriously. That might’ve been an understatement. He’d hid it so well, even he hadn’t noticed, but he’d been that way from the time his dad died. The jovial surface was a smoke screen he threw up to protect himself from getting hurt again, he realized.
It was interesting that he’d chosen an occupatio
n filled with risk, had hobbies that were, too, but was so unwilling to take one with his heart now. Was his heart less valuable than his life? He sighed, rubbing his face. He hadn’t slept well since he’d gotten back to town. Mostly he paced, mentally reciting the pros and cons of telling Amelia that he loved her. She wasn’t as young as he’d first thought, but she had lived a very sheltered life. Didn’t he owe her time to find her feet, to find out who she was?
The elevator opened without him realizing they’d moved. He followed Bryn and Mann into the lobby. Bryn said her good-byes with a nearly straight face. Mann just shook his head and said, “You got it bad, buddy,” before following her out the door.
That was one way to look at it, he supposed. Or you could say, he had it good.
* * * *
Donovan Kincaid hated being in the hospital. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Soldiers of fortune earned their scars one at a time.
This was a hard time to be stuck in a bed. Bryn said Pru was fine, but he needed to see her with his own eyes. He needed to find a way to tell her—
It had seemed easy up in the mountain, in the heat of action. Now it didn’t seem so simple. Her memory was back and she’d learned the man she’d called father all her life was dead. She needed time to mourn his loss. If he told her the truth now, she’d lose her father twice. She’d taken so many knocks in the past few days. How could he hit her with one more?
He shifted restlessly in the bed. His back hurt, where the knife had entered.
Grady had damn near killed him. A pointed reminder he’d gotten soft. It was time for him to get out of the security business and go back where he belonged—in the heat of battle. Surely there was a war somewhere he could dive into.
A soft movement in the doorway caught his attention. He looked up. It was Pru, looking at him with her usual aloof, far too serious, gaze. She was dressed in something drab that tamped down the spirit he now knew was there. His heart hurt just looking at her. Before he could stop himself he said, “Damn, you look like your mother.”
Her smile broke across her face like the sun broke over the mountains. “Really?”
“Didn’t…he tell you?”
She came closer, her walk as fluid as her mother’s had been the day he met her.
“He never told me anything.” She sank into the chair by the bed.
Her face was even with his. Her eyes were her mother’s. They didn’t welcome him the way hers had. Despite the smile, they stayed cool, but interested. They saw him. He didn’t think that had ever happened before. He shifted uneasily. Her eyes made him aware of all things he hadn’t been—like in her life.
“Who am I?”
He drew in his breath sharply. It hurt like hell. “You’re—”
“—not John Knight’s daughter. He told me that day.”
Donovan scowled. “What a bastard.” He hesitated, then asked, “Did he tell you who—”
She shook her head, but the most amazing thing happened. Her eyes…opened. The shutters lifted. He could see her soul.
“I think,” she said, her hand lifting to rest on his gripping the blanket, “that I’m a little like my dad, too.”
He covered her hand with his and gripped. “You’re a lot like your dad. Sorry about that.”
She gave a sigh that trembled a bit and laid her head on his shoulder. “No apologies necessary…Dad.”
* * * *
Prudence was losing the battle of the personalities when Amelia got off the elevator and saw Luke waiting for her. She’d been so long, she’d wondered if he’d still be there. He was. He looked like he’d taken root near the window. His expression was closed, maybe a bit brooding, but it brightened a bit when she appeared. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her across the lobby and her heart stopped. When it started again, it felt new, like it had never beat quite like this before. Her knees were different, too. Weak. She wasn’t sure she could get from where she was to where she wanted to be. She didn’t know who she was yet, but she did know what she wanted.
Him.
She knew he wanted her, but did he want her?
She took a step and her knees held, so she walked over to him.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
She nodded. Did he know that home wasn’t a place? It wasn’t where she’d lived. It was him. And her dad.
In his car, they didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t awful. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and tell him what it felt like to meet her dad for the first time, but the width of the seat seemed like the Grand Canyon between them. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering how she could cross it. Wondering if he wanted her to try.
Luke felt her watching him, but couldn’t get a read on what it meant. She was quiet, a little subdued. He wanted to ask how the meet with her dad went, but the right words wouldn’t come. He wanted her to move closer to him, but she didn’t. How had he managed it in high school? He couldn’t remember. It was as if all his life had ceased but this moment. He could feel the heavy thud of his heart and the deep ache in his gut from wanting her.
He stopped the car in front of the Knight house. It was austere and unfriendly. Even the winter stark shrubs looked like they could repel all boarders. Home, sweet home—when hell freezes over. He hated that she’d lived here with a man who not only hadn’t appreciated her, but had tried to kill her spirit. No wonder she’d fled this place when she could.
He got out and opened Amelia’s door. The bruises were mostly faded on her face. Her hair lay against her head in soft curls. The long hair had been nice, but short, her eyes were huge and deep enough to fall in. He’d never seen eyes that color or that careful.
She stood up, but didn’t move away. “Can you wait while I pack some things?”
“You’re leaving?”
“I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here.” She paused, then added, “It’s not much. The things I really cared about are at the apartment.” She paused again. “If you have the time?”
He straightened. “Of course. No problem.”
Her smile broke through her reserve and for an instant he saw Amelia again, then Prudence reasserted herself as she turned to face the house.
Amelia gathered her strength and mounted the steps. The door wasn’t locked, which was a bit odd. Inside she found the housekeeper, Mrs. Curtis, crossing the entryway. She was a dour woman who didn’t like much, including Amelia. She looked like she’d been trying to cry, but was too happy to fake it. Amelia was glad to have Luke backing her as the woman looked at her without a welcome.
“You’re back.” She hesitated, then said, “Mr. Knight’s lawyer is in the study. He…came about the will.” A look of secret satisfaction put a dull light in her bitter, dark eyes.
“Have I been disinherited?” Amelia said. Prudence’s calm sustained her and protected her. Here in this place she’d called home, she finally understood. Amelia remembered her life, but during the three critical days of her memory loss, the person who’d run out of that hospital wasn’t the same person who flew out of the mountains with Luke. She’d become Amelia. It was Prudence who wasn’t real. She never had been real. It had always been a façade, an attempt to please the sterile, bitter man who could never be pleased.
He may have loved her mother at one point, but he’d never been able to forgive her for betraying him with Donovan. Bitterness had been in his voice and his words as repudiated her on his death bed. It was a relief to know that she didn’t have to try to please him, try to earn his love or even his respect anymore. He’d kept her around because she was useful, or rather her memory was. That was the sum of his interest in her. She looked around her. She’d lived here for thirty-four years. And she could walk out right now and it would be as if she’d never been here. In every way that mattered, she hadn’t been.
Mrs. Curtis started to say something to her, but stopped. Amelia turned the direction she was looking and saw her former father’s lawyer, Henry Bann
erman, a tall, stately man who looked like he should be governor, not planning bitter men’s estates. He’d always been kind to her. So maybe one person would miss her. The look he gave the housekeeper sent her down the hall out of sight.
“Miss Knight, we need to talk. Your father—” His gaze traveled to Luke and he hesitated.
“—wasn’t my father,” Amelia finished for him. “He told me before he died.”
“Legally he was,” Bannerman said. “He shouldn’t have disinherited you. It’s not right. I’ll help you fight it—”
“What I’d really like you to do is help me change my name.”
He looked at her, his distinguished brows arched. “What?”
“I want to change my name to Amelia. Amelia—” she smiled at him. “—Kincaid. My real father’s name.” She looked at Luke then and found he was smiling.
“Well, yes, we can do that,” Bannerman stopped, his expression worried. “Are you sure?”
“Very.” She patted his arm. “I’ll be fine. I have some money from my mother, you know.”
“And your employment,” Bannerman added. “Still—”
“I’m quitting my job, too. It wasn’t really my job. It was his.” With these words, the rest of the weight lifted off her chest. She felt like she had back in the cabin when she didn’t remember her past. She drew a deep breath and shook off the remnants of Prudence. If she was going to make a new beginning, then it should really be a new beginning. She’d start by being real.
She smiled at him, let him see the delight in her eyes.
He looked…bemused. He tugged at his tie, cleared his throat and said, “Well, okay. I’ll do…whatever I can…for you.”
She beamed at him and saw color run up under his face. “I’m going to get a few things and get out of here. I’ll call your office with where I can be reached.”
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 88