by Jillian Hart
Since the small piece of paper was folded in two, she brushed it open. There was a message, in strange, wobbly handwriting. Looking forward to our date.
Jonas.
She knew he was there before the pad of his gait on the carpeted entrance, before the faint clink of his cane, and before she refolded the paper to see him watching her with a question. Her spirit turned toward him like a star faced the earth’s pole, for he had always been her center, her anchor, her guiding light.
“Me, too,” she told him, his note clutched in her hand. She was breathless as he came toward her. She was captivated, unable to move, as he knelt down before her.
“Do you like the flowers?” he asked.
But he was inquiring about more than the flowers, she knew. “You don’t remember giving me these roses after our first date, but you brought me a bouquet anyway.”
“Seemed the gentlemanly thing to do.”
That was her Jonas, always a gentleman. She stared down at the bouquet picked from the bushes outside, from the bushes Jonas had planted for her as a surprise after Tyler was born. A sign of his devotion to her, he had said at the time. She had to stop herself from wishing that he could remember.
“Your mom is going to watch Madison and Tyler tomorrow. She told me a few things.”
“I’m afraid to ask what.”
“You should be very afraid.” Humor brightened him. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven-thirty sharp.”
She loved that he still had his sense of humor intact. The bullet had not taken everything. “I’ll see you in the physical therapist’s waiting room at eleven-thirty.”
“Lucky me.” It was not humor that darkened his eyes as he leaned close to press a kiss to her cheek, but it made her laugh all the same.
“No, lucky me,” she said, wondering if, somehow, her Jonas was on his way back to her.
The waiting room was busy when Danielle’s cell phone rang. She put down her pen, checked the screen and her heart lit up. “Hi, Mom.”
“Baby, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.” Dorrie sounded happy; she loved taking her granddaughter to swimming class. “Hold on.”
Danielle closed her checkbook, the enormous pile of unpaid bills forgotten. There was a shuffle and Madison’s singsong voice chattering in the background, and then suddenly, filling her ear.
“Mommy! I swimmed on my own!”
“That’s great, bubbles. You are such a good girl.”
“I know.” Madison had no problem with underconfidence. “Now I get minty cream.”
Peppermint ice cream. Danielle could only hope Mom would know what that meant when they got to the ice cream shop. “You be sure and point it out to Grammy, so she knows.”
Jonas. She looked up to find him watching her. How long had he been standing in the middle of the waiting room, pinning her with his intense gaze? Everything within her stilled. He might be leaning heavily on his cane, and he was trying to mask the pain on his face, but he was here. He was hers.
“Madison, do you want your daddy?”
“Yiiiip.” Excitement drew out that one word.
“Hold on, cutie.” Danielle stood, taking the phone to her husband. “There’s a pretty brunette who wants to talk to you.”
“There isn’t a problem?” One eyebrow crooked up into a question.
“No. Mom’s going to keep her for lunch and drop her by after our lunch date.”
“Good. I worried something had changed.” Jonas took the cell from her, his warm strong fingers brushing hers as she released the phone. His gaze never left her face. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun swimming?”
Jonas loved his children. It was on his face, in his voice, gentle and unbreakable. That was something the bullet hadn’t taken. Danielle hiked her purse strap onto her shoulder, remembering the day he’d come out of his coma. Not fully awake and his thoughts confused, as if the coma were trying to pull him back in. He’d stared up at her without a hint of recognition.
Now, when he gazed at her, his eyes were full of gentleness.
“Okay. Bye-bye, Madison.” He closed the phone, and he looked steady. Stalwart. Invincible. “Whew, she’s cute but she’s a talker.”
“I can’t imagine where she gets it.” She took the phone he offered and slipped it into the outside pocket of her purse. “I never talk on the phone like that.”
“I didn’t think so.” His eyes were laughing at her, not at all fooled. He held the door open for her. “She must take after me.”
“That’s it. Every time she misbehaves, that’s what I say. She must get that from you, because it isn’t me.”
“That’s not what your family says. They say she is just like you.”
That had them both laughing and they stepped outside. She pulled her sunglasses from her purse. “Since I can’t deny that, I’m not going to say anything. It’s safest.”
“I just happen to like you, so I think Madison is perfect. Like her mother.” He stopped to open the van’s passenger door, stealing a little more of her heart.
“I happen to think you are pretty fine, too, handsome.”
“Good, because I’m taking your keys.”
And, to her surprise, he plucked them right out of her hand. “Hey, give those back.”
“No way. This is a date, this is my vehicle, too, and I’m driving.”
“You can’t drive yet, can you?”
“Sure. And it’s easier this way, since I know where we’re going and you don’t.”
“I’m not going to surrender my beloved minivan just like that. You can give me directions.”
“No. I always used to drive, and I’m up to it. So, get in.” He smiled, more handsome than ever for his steely stubbornness.
She knew he’d been working so hard in his appointments. The physical therapist had said so over and over. And she knew why he pushed himself beyond pain and endurance. She laid her hand on his arm, desperately needing to touch him, to draw his strength into her like air. Sunshine fluttered through the trees lining the parking lot, impossible to hold, but visible all the same. Like grace. Like faith. Like hope renewed.
She climbed into the seat, loving that he took hold of her arm to help her, although she didn’t need it. It was him she needed. How good it was to see him standing there, stronger, straighter.
He closed the door, walking around the front of the minivan, washed in dappled light, his shoulders once again a broad dependable line. God had not forgotten them, no. She’d known from the moment she’d first received his supervisor’s call that God was holding them all in the palm of His hand.
Jonas slid in behind the wheel, seeming eager to drive again. “Don’t worry. I remember driving. I remember the day I got my license. My dad took me.”
“You told me he was more nervous than you were.”
“He was afraid I was going to pass and he and Mom would be nervous wrecks every second I was out driving.” There was no mistaking the dip of affection in his voice for the parents who had loved their only child so dearly. He had lost them three weeks after he’d graduated from high school to a head-on Fourth of July car accident, and he had been minorly injured, buckled safely in the backseat. “Their deaths were the reason I wanted to be a trooper.”
She nodded, already knowing that, too. “You wanted to repay the kindness the troopers had shown you that evening coming home from watching the fireworks. You wanted to help others, the way you had been helped.”
He nodded put on his seat belt and turned the ignition. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be driving if I wasn’t able.”
“I trust you, Jonas.” She had never trusted anyone more. She watched while he checked the mirrors and the lot behind them before smoothly accelerating along the street. He was afraid, too, she realized. He might not admit it and he wasn’t about to show it, but she knew. These secrets they kept from one another, her fears and his. “You’ll be able to work again. I know it.”
“Not on patrol. I intend to walk without a c
ane, but I’ll never be strong enough to pass the physical requirements.” He put the car in gear and they rolled through the lot toward the street. “I don’t like it, but I can accept that.”
“You aren’t upset?”
“No. When I look at you and the kids, it seems so little to lose. I’m just grateful to be here, Dani.”
She smiled. Dani. What he always used to call her. “You’ve been talking to someone. Doing research on our past.”
“Guilty.” He grinned as he checked for traffic and made a right-hand turn. “Your brother was most helpful.”
“You talked to Spence?”
“Why? You look surprised. Did he and I not get along or something?”
“You two were great buddies. On the volunteer board for the city churches. Doing charity stuff. Playing golf together.”
“I play golf?” He chuckled at that.
“I hope so, as there’s a brand-new set of quality clubs in the basement storage.” A Christmas gift from her.
“Nice. What other hobbies do I have?”
His eyes were twinkling. This was amusing him. Fine, she could have fun with his amnesia, too. “You love classical music.”
“I do?”
“Sure. And theater. You love theater, especially Shakespeare.”
“You mean the dudes in tights?” His nose crinkled with dismay. “That doesn’t seem very manly.”
It was nearly impossible to keep a straight face. “The city symphony has a summer series I could get tickets for. Oh, and I think the college is putting on King Lear. There was a notice posted at the bookstore, the last time I was in. We could do both. What do you think?”
“No, that doesn’t sound right.” He laughed. “Are you trying to deceive me?”
“Never. I just couldn’t resist. The look on your face is priceless.” It felt wonderful to laugh together, to feel the rumble of his happiness roll through her like a spring breeze.
He stopped for a red light and turned to her. “Something tells me we did this a lot.”
“We laughed nearly all the time.”
“I can see that about us.”
“Even when we disagreed, we would wind up laughing. Not all the time, mind you, but mostly. You would say something funny and it would be impossible for me to be mad at you any longer.”
“I can’t imagine you getting mad.”
“Believe me, I did. You are a very maddening man at times, Jonas Lowell. And I’m your wife. I ought to know.” She said the words with love, because she’d stopped caring about his stubbornness and his unfailing ability to put off her “to do” list the moment she’d seen him hovering near death in the ICU. “I love you for those things.”
“Love does not demand its own way. It keeps no record of when it has been wronged. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance…”
She heard what he did not say; what only could be felt with the heart. Tears filled her eyes and she turned away so he couldn’t see them.
The blinker ticked, and he swung the minivan into a fast-food place’s drive-through lane.
“Chicken?” he asked while she laughed with delight.
He was reenacting their second date.
“There was a lot that Spence couldn’t tell me,” Jonas explained as he packed the leftover bucket of chicken and offered her the contents of a small bakery box from Ava’s bakery. “Your sister swung by when you were in the shower with more information and these. She says they are your favorite.”
“Are they ever. Fudge peanut butter brownies. These weren’t on the second date menu, but this is a good improvement.”
He was sure glad she thought so. He took one for himself and recovered the box. He set it down so he could sidle a little closer to his wife on the blanket he’d put down in the grass for their picnic. “She said this was a monumental date for us.”
“Spence wouldn’t know the details, so I wasn’t sure if you knew.” She blushed prettily, looking at the gurgle of the swiftly moving river in front of them. “You are a good investigator. I wouldn’t have thought you would have gone to so much trouble.”
“It’s for you, Dani. Why wouldn’t I?” He ached to brush the worry from her face and all the fears she hadn’t told him about. He could see how it was, how well she’d held things together while he’d been fighting that coma. How she had kept the kids’ world as normal as possible while he’d been far away in rehabilitation. How she had faithfully supported him with all of her heart when he returned to her, unable to remember a single thing about the life they had built together. “I wanted you to know that I’m in this all the way. I’m not going to leave you alone shouldering everything. That’s why I’m working so hard to get back.”
“I know. For me and the kids.”
The kids. They were sure something, too. God had richly blessed him. Jonas might not remember much, but he knew what a rare gift he had. He eyed the bag Danielle had put into the van that morning, the one she had brought with her now. “You brought the pictures?”
“Every one.”
“I thought we might want to look at them instead of going kayaking. I’m not up to that yet.” But there were things he could do; he could listen to his wife.
“I was never as outdoorsy as you, so I don’t mind that we’re skipping the water sports.” She finished her brownie and, after licking her fingers, reached for the bag with the pictures in it.
Every little thing she did captivated him. He wondered if after being married for so long, he had stopped noticing the way she bit her bottom lip when she was thinking, or watched him through her lashes to see what he was up to. Had he taken her for granted? These were things he could not ask her.
Her movements were like poetry as she pulled the book from the bag, each movement graceful and deliberate. The sweet scent of the wild grasses, the whisper of the overhead leaves, the music of the river and the blue sky framing her were things he might forget, but not her. He memorized the slope of her cute nose, her wide-set eyes with long lashes, the cut of her cheekbones and her generous mouth, so ready to smile and offer a kind word.
Hers was the first face he’d seen when he’d opened his eyes. Even when he hadn’t been able to recognize his own wife, he’d been rendered speechless by the sight of her. She’d made his heart start beating again.
Now, watching her in the simple act of opening the photo album and brushing her fingertips across the plastic-covered pages, he was fascinated by her. By the small smile on her lips, by the glitter of secret happiness in her eyes, by her posture so fluid and straight and her kind goodness that he could not get enough of.
“Here’s the first picture I took when we were driving away from Gran’s house.” She stretched out on the blanket and laid the white album in front of her. “See? There’s the family waving to us. You’d left the window open since you had been hanging out of it as we drove away.”
“Me? Hanging out of a window? That doesn’t seem too dignified.”
“Welcome to your life, Jonas. I hate to break it to you, but you are far from dignified.”
He stretched out beside her. “That’s a hard blow. Here I was hoping to find out I was this really cool, sophisticated guy.”
“Sorry to disappointment you, but had you been, I doubt I would have been interested enough to marry you.”
He saw himself, young and whole and fit, suntanned and looking like the happiest man in the world in that limo. “Then I’m glad I’m just an unsophisticated, undignified guy.”
She shook her head, amusement making her eyes a deep cinnamon. “I liked you that way. Right after I snapped this picture you put your arm around me and gave me a big kiss.”
“That sounds like me.” He grinned and leaned closer as she turned the page.
There were more pictures of them arriving at the Bozeman airport and waiting at the gate. It was late; the airport had that overly bright look to the lights against black windows. She must have had a timer and
squeezed in beside him at the last second. He looked at the image of his younger self, so tall and straight, with both arms around his bride and how he gazed at his new bride with complete adoration and one hundred percent pure love.
“This is in the Seattle hotel’s lobby.” She tapped the ribbon-framed image. He was still grinning, as if he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. “We had this beautiful room. We were so exhausted that after you ordered room service for us, since neither of us had hardly eaten all day even with tons of food at the reception and at Gran’s house, we fell asleep.”
He leaned closer to study the well-appointed suite. He hardly noticed the rich colors and textures of the room because Danielle was in the picture. He must have taken it of her. She looked so bubbly and carefree in a pretty cotton summer dress and sandals. Her hair was a soft fall of curls around her face, different from the Danielle he knew now.
It didn’t take a genius to know why. For her face, as she studied these images and remembered the better times of their marriage, had changed, looked less like a woman who was worried, strained and fighting to hide her fears. He could see the woman from the pictures, alight with hope, made even more beautiful with love.
“Here’s where we were waiting for our shuttle to the airport. At five-thirty in the morning. See how grumpy I look.” The breeze from the river ruffled through her hair and she pushed a lock of curls behind her ear, an innocent gesture.
“You don’t look grumpy.” Not at all. “You look pretty amazing for five-thirty in the morning.”
“I’m glad you still think so. I don’t think I photograph well at all. Unlike you. There you are, grinning at me.”
He saw more than the picture showed. He saw a young strapping man holding out his hand to his beloved wife. The tenderness in his eyes had changed. Deepened with their love.
He quietly studied the snapshots of their private cottage on the beach in Maui. Somehow she was even more beautiful than ever, translucent with life and love.
He had been the man who had loved her like that, and it was impossible to remember. Impossible to feel now. He groped in his mind and searched deeper in his brain but there was nothing. No hint of a memory. No trace of an image. No whisper of what was past.