The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride

by Joan Elliott Pickart

“Good, that’s settled, then. We should have discussed this before I left the house this morning. I’ve put in one helluva long day beating myself up about it.”

  “So have I.” Josie paused. “Max?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What about tonight?”

  “Tonight?” he said, raising one eyebrow.

  Josie got to her feet and began to pace the floor in front of the table.

  “Unless you want me to leave the Single C,” she began, “turn myself over to the police as a missing person in reverse or whatever, I’d like to stay here until my memory returns.”

  Max’s gaze was riveted on Josie as she went from one end of the table to the other.

  “As I told Sally Wilson,” she continued, “I don’t think my family, if I have one, is frantic about where I am. If I set out to find an old school chum, I must have told my parents or whoever that I didn’t know how long I’d be gone.”

  “You said something to me along those lines,” Max said, nodding.

  “Yes, well, I don’t believe it’ll be a great deal of time before I remember everything, because I’m already getting flashes of this and that. So, I’m treating this like...oh, I don’t know, like a slice of hours, days, that are mine to do with as I choose.”

  “I see.”

  “I have no idea what type of responsibilities I might have back Where I live, but for now I’m just me, Josie, with no last name.”

  Wentworth, Max’s mind yelled. She was Josie Wentworth of Wentworth Oil Works. He was going to tell her that right now. He couldn’t live with his duplicity any longer.

  But...

  If he divulged her identity, Josie would be gone, probably within the hour. He’d never see her again. He’d get to know the Wentworth attorneys all too soon, but Josie would be removed from his life forever.

  Damn it, no. Not yet.

  Josie stopped her trek and looked directly at him.

  “May I stay here on your ranch until my memory is restored, Max?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’re back to the question—what about tonight and tomorrow night and... We’re consenting adults. We need to have a mature, calm discussion about...about...” Josie’s voice trailed off and she frowned.

  “About?” Max prompted.

  Josie stomped back to her chair and sat down, folding her arms across her breasts and scowling.

  “Something tells me I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d help me out a bit here.”

  “Oh, sure thing.” Max cleared his throat. “We’re discussing—maturely and calmly—whether or not we’re going to sleep together for the duration of your stay at the Single C.”

  “Exactly,” Josie said, smiling brightly. “Do we or do we not want to have an affair while I’m here? No strings attached. No commitments. When I’m fully recovered, I’ll just ride off into the sunset.”

  Max frowned. “That sounds a tad cold.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said, flinging out her arms. “Not if that’s what we agree to. Neither of us can possibly get hurt if we understand the rules.

  “We’re extremely attracted to each other and we seem to care about each other. We would make love, Max, create beautiful memories, then I’d leave and that would be that.”

  “We’d never see each other again,” he said quietly.

  A sudden chill swept through Josie as though a dark cloud had appeared and was hovering over her.

  “No,” she said, her voice a near whisper. “We’d never see each other again.”

  Fine, Max thought. That was fine. Hey, he knew guys who would kill for a situation like this one. For a stretch of time he could have a gorgeous, sensuous, delectable woman in his bed every night, with no worries about her making demands on him or getting fanciful ideas about snaring him into marriage and babies.

  So why was he hesitating? Why wasn’t he shouting, “You betcha, babe!” then concentrating on getting some food into his empty stomach?

  We’d never see each other again.

  Those words, which seemed to hang in the air like shadows of gloom, were unsettling him. That was because he’d never done anything like this before, he told himself.

  He could handle this. He’d be a fool not to agree to the plan. He didn’t want a wife and babies. Josie was willing to be his lover with no plan to rope him into anything more.

  It just didn’t get better than this.

  So? Go for it, Carter.

  “Okay?, Josie,” he said. “I see no problem. We’ll be lovers while you’re here at the Single C. No strings. No commitments. Oh, and I’ll take care of the birth control, since you don’t know if you’re protected. When your memory is restored, you’ll leave. I understand and accept those rules.” Max paused. “Could I add one little item?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Our dinner is burning.”

  Late that night Josie lay next to Max in his bed, absently twining her fingers in the moist, dark curls on his chest.

  They’d made beautiful, exquisite love that had left them sated and inching toward sleep.

  “Max?” Josie said.

  “Hmm?”

  “When I leave here, I guess I’ll continue to search for your cousin, Sabrina. I will have remembered why she and I were such close friends, what made me decide to seek her out. Do you have any idea where she is?”

  Max frowned into the darkness. “Josie, did it ever occur to you that if Sabrina wanted to keep in touch with you, she would have done so?”

  “Well, people lose track of each other, even close friends. I want—”

  “There’s the clincher,” he interrupted. “You want. You were bored or whatever, and you decided to find Sabrina. Maybe she doesn’t want you to find her.”

  “What are you getting so grumpy about?” Josie asked, flattening her hand on his chest.

  “I just think that people have a right to their privacy, that’s all. I certainly don’t like my privacy invaded.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Josie wriggled out of Max’s embrace and sat up, covering her bare breasts with the sheet.

  “You mean that if we were just talking, attempting to get to know each other better, and I asked you why you’re so dead set against getting married, you’d refuse to answer me?”

  “Got it in one.”

  “And your crummy attitude about people with money? You’d pass on commenting on that subject, too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither topic is a deep, dark secret of mine, Josie. It’s the principle of the thing. You’re talking about my private beliefs and opinions. They are, quite frankly, none of your business.” And to be honest, he was scared to let her get too close to him, to his heart, his soul.

  “Well!” she said indignantly. “So much for sharing.”

  “There’s a fine line between sharing and being plain old nosy.”

  “But—”

  “Come here,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Let’s quit gabbing and indulge in the kind of sharing you and I do best.” He pulled her down and rolled her on top of him. “Agreed?”

  “For now,” Josie said, as heated desire shimmered through her.

  “Good. You’re good. We’re good... together.”

  Josie laughed. “That’s a whole bunch of good.”

  “You betcha, babe.”

  Then no more words were spoken.

  The following two weeks flew by so quickly it was as though a magical wind was whipping the pages of the calendar, one after the other.

  Josie and Max began their day early, sharing breakfast duties. Josie burned the bacon. Max produced runny scrambled eggs and perfect toast.

  Then Max set out to tackle the chores of the day, while Josie, to her own fascination, spent her time thoroughly enjoying weeding, trimming and generally sprucing up the front yard.

  She had no real interest in housework, she discovered, but once outs
ide she had to be called more than once by Max to come into the house for lunch. She filed down her nails and dug her hands deep into the soil, removing the unwanted intruders and revealing lush, green grass.

  The nights were heavenly, full of passion never fully quelled, leaving embers of desire that were ignited once again with a look, a touch, a smile.

  Each day brought new flashes of memory to Josie.

  She now knew that her favorite color was blue.

  She lived somewhere high above the ground in a place that was cool, peaceful and inviting, dominated by somewhat confusing images of fluffy, white clouds.

  She saw the rich leather of the binding on rows of books, but couldn’t decipher where they were actually located, often getting the impression they were in two different areas.

  There had been one image in her mind of a weeping little girl wearing saddle shoes, knee socks and some type of uniform. She’d been surrounded by two boys and a man, whose faces she couldn’t see clearly. The taller boy had leaned toward the child she assumed was her, then the tears had stopped and a smile materialized.

  Did she have a brother? Josie wondered. Two brothers? Was the man her father? Where was her mother?

  Whenever her mind skittered to the thought of a brother, a feeling of foreboding swept through her. She mentally struggled for more details, but none would come.

  Each evening Josie shared with Max whatever she had remembered about herself that day. He listened intently, but made few comments.

  What Josie did not mention was the memory of the purse she knew she’d had with her when she’d climbed onto the wagon with Rusty that first day on the Single C.

  She knew she could broach the subject of the purse with Max without sounding as though she was accusing him of hiding it from her. She’d simply say she must have dropped it during the ride to wherever she’d gone, and could they travel that route slowly and look for it?

  But she didn’t.

  Because she had no wish to find a purse holding the identification of who she was and where she lived. She didn’t want to return to reality, leave the Single C and Max Carter.

  Not yet.

  This was stolen time, precious time, she told herself over and over. It would all end. Max and what they’d shared would become memories to be cherished during long, lonely nights in the future.

  But not yet. Not yet.

  On Halloween Max carved a huge pumpkin into a jack-o’-lantern. They delivered it to the Wilson children, who responded with shrieks of delight.

  As Josie watched a smiling, laughing Max playing with the youngsters, a soft smile formed on her lips, and her heart felt as though it was melting like ice cream in the sun on a summer day.

  “I told you,” Sally said as the two women sat on the patio and sipped lemonade. “A whole different side of Max surfaces when he’s with the kids.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Josie said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Josie,” Sally said, looking directly at her, “are you falling in love with Max?”

  Josie shifted her gaze to the ice cubes in the glass.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to know. I refuse to let myself find out. I’m remembering more each day, Sally. When it all comes back to me, I’ll have to leave the Single C and Max. What’s the point in discovering my true feelings for him?”

  “Where is it etched in stone that you have to leave? Why can’t you two consider having a future together? There’s a gentleness, a peacefulness, about Max when he’s with you.

  “And the way he looks at you? Goodness, the man is crazy about you. It’s written all over his face. Why, Josie? Why are you so certain you have to go and never return?”

  Josie sighed and looked at Sally. “Max and I are so different, Sally. It’s obvious from my clothes that I have money. How much or how I came by it, I don’t know, but it would be a major stumbling block in a relationship with Max.”

  “That’s a problem that could be solved,” Sally said decisively.

  “Then there’s the way we approach life in general,” Josie went on. “I’m a talker. I like to share my feelings, find out how other people view things and what’s happened in their past to make them who they are today.”

  “That’s reasonable. Lovers should be best friends, who share everything.”

  “Yes, but Max doesn’t believe that. I never ask him personal questions, because he views it as an invasion of privacy. I don’t know if he has ever been in love or why he’s so dead set against getting married. I actually know more about myself now than I do about him, which isn’t saying much.”

  “But you care about each other,” Sally said. “Anyone seeing you together could tell that in a second.”

  “That’s true, but it’s not deep enough, rich enough, to stand against the rigors of time. We’re operating on the surface, because we both know this relationship is temporary. It’s working for us, but it isn’t real. It doesn’t have a foundation of...well, forever.”

  “Darn that Max Carter,” Sally said, shaking her head. “If he’d just lower those walls he’s built around himself and share with you, bare his soul...”

  “Sally, don’t,” Josie said quietly. “It isn’t going to happen. I’ll be leaving. I’ll have to go.”

  “I hate this,” Sally said. “I really hate this.”

  October slipped into November.

  On the day Josie had been at the Single C for a month, she stared at the calendar, acutely aware that during those four weeks she hadn’t had a period.

  She splayed one hand on her flat stomach, wondering...

  Was she carrying Max Carter’s baby?

  She waited for an emotional reaction to the unanswered question, but none came. Her mind, she realized, was refusing to address the issue right now. In the fantasy world where she was living with Max, the possibility of complications simply didn’t exist.

  Josie sighed and turned away from the calendar on the kitchen wall. She walked to the sink and stared out the window, absently noting the dark clouds building on the horizon.

  Fantasy world, her mind echoed. Cinderella at the ball, forgetting that the clock would strike at midnight.

  Tick...tick...tick.

  Today in a flash of renewed memory she’d seen an enormous house with beautifully maintained grounds. An elderly man had been standing on the wide porch, holding out his arms as though beckoning her to come to him.

  Granddad.

  She’d known that the man was her grandfather and that she called him Granddad. She had no parents. There were two brothers whose images faded in and out, never allowing her to see them clearly.

  And once again the thought of brothers... No, it was more distinct than that. The thought of one of those brothers caused the now familiar chill to course throughout her.

  These men were her family, and there was something wrong, something dark and ominous, connected to one of her brothers.

  How could she have gone blissfully off to find an old school friend when there was something obviously upsetting or threatening her family? What had happened to that one brother to cause that cold fist to tighten within her whenever she had a fleeting thought of him?

  Was she needed at home? Had she deserted her loved ones in a time of turmoil? Dear heaven, what kind of woman was she if she had actually done such a selfish act? Had she really decided to have a reunion with Max’s cousin, Sabrina, instead of standing by her family as she should have?

  Tick...tick...tick.

  “Oh, God,” she said pressing trembling fingertips to her lips.

  The clock was going to strike midnight. Her wonderful fantasy life with Max was about to end. She had to search her mind harder for details about herself, her Granddad, her brothers.

  She had to discover who she was.

  She had to go home.

  And leave Max.

  Forever.

  Josie blinked away sudden tears, then turned from the window. She checked the roast in the oven, which
she’d prepared as per Max’s instructions.

  She was actually learning how to cook, she thought, striving to push away the depression setting over her. She was turning into a Henrietta Housewife. She enjoyed getting the evening meal on the table, but still had no enthusiasm for cleaning the house.

  She picked up four of Max’s shirts from the table and headed down the hall to hang the freshly washed garments in his closet. She’d instinctively known how to operate the washer and dryer the first time she’d stood in front of the machines with a laundry basket of clothes.

  In the bedroom she removed hangers from the closet and placed the shirts on the bed, smoothing them onto the hangers one at a time.

  It was all coming together, she thought. The man she knew as Granddad had raised her and her brothers in that huge home. And she had no doubt that a housekeeper had done all the cooking and cleaning.

  At some point she’d moved to the place high above the ground that was peaceful, inviting... and hers. It was there that she’d probably taken on the chore of washing her own clothes, but hadn’t bothered to learn how to cook.

  Someone must come in to clean the spacious, airy rooms she called home. Yes, she’d arranged for that to be done, because she was wealthy and had grown up surrounded by opulence in the big house with her Granddad. She took money for granted, because it had always been there.

  Strange, Josie thought, glancing around Max’s small bedroom. She was so comfortable here in this shabby little house. It was cozy, wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket.

  And Max lived here.

  He came in each evening, dirty and sweaty... and smiling. Oh, yes, Max Carter smiled a great deal now. It softened his rugged features and lit up the dark pools of his eyes.

  On three different occasions he’d brought her wildflowers that he’d found blooming late in the season.

  Another day he’d delayed his chores to take her to the barn to witness the miracle of kittens being born.

  One sunny afternoon, he’d come in early, saddled a horse, settled Josie on its back and led the animal around and around the corral. She had laughed in delight and hung on for dear life.

  Little by little, Max had revealed the softer, gentler side of himself, the caring, thoughtful man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he was very glad to see her at day’s end.