by Ginny Baird
****
Chapter Four
Lucy was called out of deep slumber by a piercing white light. She sat up with a start to find William hovering above her with a flashlight. “What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the covers to her chest.
“Checking your pupils.” He grimaced apologetically. “Doctor’s orders.”
Of course, she remembered now. That part, anyway. “Sorry,” she said, settling back on the pillow and opening her eyes wide. “I forgot.”
He angled the beam toward her, causing her to squint.
“Still nothing doing on the memory?” he asked.
She blinked as he turned off the flashlight. “Not a thing. I mean, other than everything that’s happened here.”
“Hmm.”
She watched him study her as fine light filtered in through the window. “Is that the moon out there?”
“Lucky for you, we’ve had a break in the storm,” he said with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be able to get the SUV out tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she said, wondering why that notion depressed her. Of course she wanted to go the doctor and learn what was wrong with her. This wasn’t her house; it was theirs. And they likely wanted her out of it as soon as possible. She brought her hand to her cheek, mildly pained at the thought. Why did the idea of feeling unwanted ring so familiar?
“Bridget,” he said, as her solitaire glinted in the moonlight. “There is a man in your life, isn’t there? Somebody waiting for you?”
“I’d like to think so, yes,” she said, unable to resist the ache in her heart.
His gaze lingered on hers and for a moment she suspected his heart ached, too.
“That’s what I figured,” he said.
“William?”
“Yes?”
“What’s that disgusting thing you do with chocolate?”
He bellowed a laugh. “Your memory’s not all bad, now is it? I’ll never tell.” He stood from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, lie back down and get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes,” he said in a way that made her believe it. His eyes trailed to a photo of a pretty brunette on the nightstand. He picked up the frame a bit awkwardly, and took it with him. “I’ll just... move this downstairs,” he said.
Lucy snuggled under the covers, thinking what a happy woman she must have been to have someone like William for a husband. “William?” she said, as he slowly shut the door.
He paused and looked at her, picture frame in hand.
“Thanks.”
William sat on the living room sofa with a guilty heart. He’d brought a pillow and a blanket downstairs and had taken care to wear a robe, as he knew he’d be checking on Bridget later. He lifted Karen’s photo from the coffee table and addressed it as if she were there. “You don’t know how much I miss you. How badly all of us do...”
His gaze slowly panned toward the stairs. Here he was with another woman in the bed that he and Karen had shared. Although it wasn’t like he was up there with her. William swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what that might be like, he and Bridget together. She was so soft and womanly, with that curvaceous body and those sensuous lips. And her eyes were as blue as the heavens. They were an angel’s eyes, really.
William fretfully stared down at the photo in his hands. “Forgive me, honey. I didn’t mean it. There could never be anybody for me but you. I could never go there. Not in a million years... Not unless the gods sent me an earth-shattering sign.” He settled down on the sofa, laying the frame facedown on the floor beside him. “Like that’s going to happen.”
William awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing. He quickly sat up and swung his feet to the floor, trying to place where he was. The living room, that’s right. That’s where he’d slept, or gotten some semblance of sleep anyhow. Not that he regretted going up to check on Bridget. In fact, he’d sort of looked forward to it. Didn’t matter that he’d had to set his cell to wake him hour after hour. The truth was, even when he’d been sleeping, she’d occupied his dreams. Once or twice, he’d awakened with a start because he’d thought he’d felt his arms around her. In reality, it had just been a throw pillow. William felt himself flush at having these thoughts, especially in light of his late-night promise to Karen.
He stood and something crunched under his slippered feet. William looked down in horror to see he’d smashed the glass on Karen’s picture frame. He sat back down and lifted the broken frame in his hands. Karen’s smiling face gazed back at him. “An earth-shattering sign?” he mused. No way. No earthly way. Clearly it was coincidental, him breaking the glass.
Noises sounded from the kitchen. Someone was cooking in there. William carefully picked the errant shards off of the carpet and set them on the broken frame, which he laid on the coffee table. Then, he slipped on his robe and headed to the kitchen to investigate.
Lucy whisked about the open space, attempting to put together a very fine breakfast. She had bacon on the stove and bread in the toaster. Next, to find the eggs. She whirled toward the refrigerator, nearly colliding with William as he entered the room.
“Good morning!” he said with surprise. His gaze traveled to her bare legs and quickly back up to her eyes. He’d left her one of his shirts to sleep in, but plainly had forgotten about it until he saw her wearing it skimming her thighs, its cuffs rolled up. Lucy had washed out her short dress and it was hanging to dry in the bathroom. That, along with her undies. She’d planned to dash back upstairs and get dressed before the family had awakened. A rash of heat enveloped her as she feared for a second that William might know she’d gone Commando. But no, that was silly! He couldn’t possibly guess. He didn’t have X-ray vision.
“Hello,” she said smiling tightly. His eyes really were flecked with gold, she could see that quite clearly now, and my, were they gorgeous. A man built like that was particularly dangerous in a robe, not to mention that sexy morning stubble. Lucy’s knees buckled slightly, and he reached out a hand to steady her.
“Bridget?”
What was it about that name that still felt wrong. “Huh?” she said, noting his waist tie had come loose and his robe gaped slightly. Beneath it he wore plaid pajama pants and no shirt, just a broad and muscled chest sporting a perfect smattering of light brown hair.
“Are you sure you should be up doing all this?” he asked, glancing around.
“Oh yes, I really am!” she said, turning toward the coffeepot, needing to redirect. “I’m feeling so much better. Honestly.” What had she been doing ogling William’s pecs? Is that the sort of woman she was? One that took advantage of every opportunity to pounce on a man? She had pounced before, hadn’t she? She lifted a mug to pour, spotting the ring on her hand. Of course she had, rightly so. “Coffee?” she asked weakly.
“Coffee would be super, thanks.” He glanced down and saw that his robe had slipped. “Sorry,” he said a bit uncomfortably, before retying it and covering that marvelous chest.
She handed him the mug and he took a sip. “Delicious, thank you.”
“As long as I was the first one up, I thought I’d make breakfast.”
“I still don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be so active.”
“Why don’t we let the doctor be the one to decide about that?”
“All right.” He studied her thoughtfully over the rim of his mug. “This is really nice. I haven’t had anyone make coffee for me since... in a very long time.”
Fine lines creased his brow, and Lucy suspected he was remembering his late wife. “I’m really sorry about your wife, William. Has it been long?”
He pursed his lips a beat, then met her eyes. “Karen died of ovarian cancer three years ago. It came on very quickly. There was nothing the doctors could do.”
The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. He clearly wasn’t over it. But then, how could he be? What an awful thing that must be, to lose someone
... Lucy felt a sharp tightness in her chest, stirring some recognition. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?” she asked softly.
“More than she knew.”
Lucy hated to think of someone as wonderful as William being alone. Certainly there were boatloads of women who would eagerly snap him up. “You’ll find somebody else. One day. Don’t you think? I mean, some day when you’re ready.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Well, Carmella apparently has. And I’m betting Justin has, too.”
“Justin?”
“Boys his age need a woman to talk to just as much as a father.”
He set down his mug and leaned into the counter. “How do you know so much about kids and family?”
“Probably from watching too much late-night television,” she said, laughing.
“The Classics Channel?” he asked with pleased surprise.
“Why, yes! That’s right! I know it is!” She stared at him and grinned. “You mean, you watch those shows, too?”
“Well, sure.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, when the kids are with me and they insist.”
Lucy struggled with a murky memory, the odd refrain coming back to her. “But real life isn’t like fairy tales.”
William blinked, then asked with mock offense, “Who told you that?”
This part, Lucy knew absolutely. “Gus!”
“Gus? Who’s Gus?”
“I don’t know. Someone from my past. Yes, that name. It’s important, for certain.”
William drew nearer. “Your father? Brother? Fiancé...?”
Lucy felt mildly sick to her stomach. “Fiancé? No!”
“Well then?”
“Argh! This is driving me nuts! It’s like something’s right around the corner, but I can’t quite grasp it. None of this makes sense. How can I remember the Classics Channel and not even recall my own name?”
“It’s Bridget, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“I have no idea, sweetheart. But I can tell you one thing. Whatever that old cynic Gus had to say was way off base.”
She watched him wide-eyed, still stuck on the fact that he’d called her sweetheart. Sweetheart. Ooh, she liked the sound of that, especially coming from his warm, expressive mouth. Was she swooning? Was that even a word?
“Because let me tell you something, “ he continued, stepping closer, “when a guy finally meets the right girl, the whole world becomes a fairy tale.”
Their eyes locked and Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. Yep. She could buy that, every word of it, and she was staring straight at a prince.
“Bridget?” he asked, his gaze diving into her. He smelled so good and manly, like sandalwood and spice. Oh God, she didn’t remember this. Couldn’t recall ever feeling this way. Surely, she would recall emotions like this.
“Huh?”
“Do you smell something burning?”
A smoke alarm blared and Lucy brought her hands to her head and yelped. Black smoke curled from the toaster, which immediately burst into flames. “Oh no!” A split second later, the frying pan caught fire.
William looked around in shock. “Jesus.” He raced beside the refrigerator and yanked a fire extinguisher from its holder on the wall. In a flash, he’d pulled its pin and doused the toaster and the whole stove in white foam.
An hour later, Lucy sat in a family-style breakfast place with William, Carmella, and Justin. The snow had let up long enough for the plows to get through, and the one-lane bridge leading to the Kinkaids’ suburban neighborhood had been cleared. The day’s forecast called for nothing more than light flurries.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have breakfast at home,” Justin complained.
Carmella looked up from the kiddie placemat she’d been coloring with crayons. “Because the elves didn’t build in cooking skills, silly.”
Lucy turned toward the little girl. “Build in?”
“Sure, you know, like how some dolls have built-in talking machines. Things like that.”
Justin eyed Lucy suspiciously over his glass of orange juice. “Yeah, and others are made plain lucky.”
William shot Justin a stern look. “I’ll ask you to remember your manners.”
A waitress appeared with a notepad and Lucy felt a twinge of familiarity. “Do I know you?” she asked, puzzling at the woman.
The gal, who looked to be in her fifties, turned her eyes on Lucy. “Don’t think so, love.” She returned her attention to the table. “You folks ready to order?”
“Bridget?” William prodded.
“I’m not really sure what I’d like. Why don’t you all go first?”
Justin set aside his menu. “I’ll have the Western Omelet with extra sausage and hash browns.”
“I’d like the chocolate chip kids stack,” Carmella said. “With bacon.”
William twisted his lips, scrutinizing the menu. “Could you make mine the tall stack of blueberry pancakes?” He glanced sheepishly at the waitress. “And bring some chocolate syrup, please?”
Lucy abruptly set down her water, sloshing it sideways. “Make that two of those!” Her eyes met William’s. “With whipped cream.”
His jaw dropped, before his lips tugged into a grin. “Can’t forget the whipped cream,” he told the astounded waitress.
“Are you folks serious?” she asked with a disgusted look.
Lucy and William locked eyes.
“Yes,” she said.
“Most definitely,” William followed.
“Suit yourselves,” their waitress said, “just don’t expect me to bring the Tums.”
She departed as William stared at Lucy, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you like your pancakes that way.”
“But only on blueberry,” she said, feeling herself smile.
“Only on blueberry,” he said. “There’s something about that fruit and chocolate mix.”
“Yes!”
“How did it happen for you?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She studied the table a beat. “It may have had something to do with my mixing up the pancake syrup and—”
“The chocolate meant for your milk?”
Her eyes flashed in recognition. “I think that’s right.”
“No way,” he said, sipping from his coffee. “That’s what happened to me, too.”
Carmella turned smugly to Justin. “You see, Bridget’s made just the way she’s supposed to be. Just right for Daddy.”
“Find me a bucket. I think I’m going to hurl.”
Lucy tried not to be stung by Justin’s constant barbs, searching her heart for understanding. The boy was hurting more than he let on and covered those wounds in a patina of sarcasm. It must be terribly hard to lose a parent at such a young age. In some ways the absence of his mom troubled him even more than Carmella, because he’d had more time to spend with her before she’d gone. Lucy felt a lump in her throat as an old familiar ache arose. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was there deep inside, telling her not to judge Justin too harshly. His father, however, filled another role.
William sighed and frowned at his son. “I’d appreciate it if you revised your attitude. Especially since I need your help later this morning.”
“Help?”
“I want you to watch Carmella—”
“But, Dad—”
“So I can take Bridget to the doctor.”
“Why’s Bridget going to the doctor?” Carmella’s face clouded over. “Is she sick?”
“Who knows?” Justin said with a smirk. “Maybe she’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” both William and Lucy said together in shock. He stared at her.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” she said, laying a hand on her belly.
William shook a scolding finger at Justin. “You, young man, have been spending way too much time online.”
A little while later, William sat with Bridget in the physician’s office. She’d alread
y had a complete check-up in private. Now they were awaiting the results of the examination. “Dr. Mass? Please tell me,” Bridget asked with concern, “is it bad news?”
The big-bellied, white-haired physician removed the stethoscope from around his neck. William noted it still had the same small stuffed reindeer attached that it had sported for years. “Please, call me Chris, dear,” he told Bridget with a warm smile. “All my patients do. Except for ones like him” he said, tilting his head toward William, “who I’ve been treating since they were in diapers.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” William urged.
Dr. Mass steadied his small circular glasses above his plump round nose. “I’m afraid it’s a clear-cut case of amnesia. The bump on the back of her head, combined with the memory loss, can point to nothing else.”
Bridget lifted her brow with concern. “How long will it last?”
Dr. Mass stroked his snowy beard. “That all depends. Sometimes these things resolve themselves in a matter of days. Then again, they can drag on for months.”
“Months?” William blurted involuntarily. He’d been prepared to help Bridget out temporarily. But for the long term? He just didn’t know. He met her blue-eyed gaze and thought he heard angels sing. William shook his head, thinking he’d had one too many hit of bourbon pecan pie. But wait a minute... That was yesterday.
“Have you tried the police?” Dr. Mass asked him. “The missing persons bureau?”
“Everything I could think of,” William assured him. “I plan to follow up more when we get home today.”
“That’s good, son,” Dr. Mass said. “Might even want to try one of those Internet postings. I hear they can be very helpful. Someone’s bound to be looking for her.”
William glanced at Bridget, regret brimming inside him. “I’m sure of it,” he said, wondering where that sentiment had come from. It’s not like she could stick around forever. She had a life—and a fiancé—to return to, after all.
“Chris,” Bridget said. “It’s very strange. There are some things I remember, little things really, that don’t make any sense. But the bigger picture is all a blur.”