Trusting A Texan (Try to Remember)

by Leann Harris

  “So, I’m not wanted for a crime.”

  A smile broke across her face and she raced into his arms.

  “Oh, I’m so grateful.” She buried her face in his chest and took several deep breaths.

  His hands stroked her back.

  “I still don’t have a name.”

  He tilted her chin up. “Yes, but you’ve cleared one hurdle. And have one less thing to worry about.”

  “But what about my dream?”

  “Maybe your amnesia isn’t only caused by the knock on your head. Maybe you saw something that you couldn’t handle, and your mind’s way of dealing with the situation is to shut it out.”

  The color drained from her face.

  “That’s just a theory.”

  “But with someone shooting at me, that sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?” she added softly.

  “It fits.”

  She backed away from him. “That means I’ve also put you in danger, haven’t I?”

  “April, my job is to protect. And what has happened to you is right up my alley.”

  “But—”

  He laid his fingers across her mouth. “But nothing. Trust me, April. I’ll protect you.”

  “I just wish I could tell you what you’re protecting the from. It would help.” She walked back to the table and sat down.

  “Rafe, about last night,” she began.

  He steeled himself. She looked up at him, her eyes huge and dark. “I needed someone. And I think you were kind enough not to leave me alone and hurting. But until I know who I am, I don’t think we should do—” she waved her hand “—that again.”

  Well, he’d heard sex referred to by a number of different terms from crude to flowery, but that was a new one to him. But she did have a point. One he had been thinking about while he was feeding the stock.

  “I agree.”

  Shock raced across her face. “You do?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t exactly professional behavior on my part.”

  “Oh.” For someone who’d told him she didn’t want to do that again, she sounded disappointed he’d agreed.

  “Do you want help cleaning up here?” he asked, hoping she’d refuse.

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll go check the missing persons reports to see if there’s anything new there.”

  When he left the room, April looked like a child who’d gotten her wish—and wished she hadn’t.

  April dried the last spoon and pulled out the silverware drawer. What a mess. She pulled out a couple more drawers. Chaos.

  Since the afternoon loomed ahead of her, she thought, why not straighten up this jumble?

  Walking down the hall, she stopped before the open door of the library. Rafe sat at his desk. Before she could open her mouth, he looked up.

  “I was wondering if you’d mind if I reorganized the drawers in the kitchen? You know, put all the silverware in one drawer and the cooking utensils in another.”

  “Fine with me.”

  Relief swept over her. It shouldn’t have been surprising, but his laid-back attitude was welcome. As she turned to go, his voice stopped her.

  “April, why don’t you turn on the TV and tune it to CNN in case the piece on you is run?”

  “Sounds good to me.” On her way to the kitchen, she turned on the TV.

  She continued her cleaning. In the third drawer she opened, there was a collection of odds and ends: twine, nuts, bolts, out-of-date warranties, and several envelopes of pictures. April opened the first one, and there before her was a small boy on his tricycle. He was smiling broadly, proud of some deed he’d done. In another photo, a woman was holding the boy. April recognized her as Rafe’s mom. And the little boy was obviously Rafe himself.

  She went through the other pictures in the envelope. They were snapshots a proud mother had taken of her child.

  Eagerly, she opened the next set of pictures. Her hands stilled when she pulled out the first one. They were Rafe’s wedding pictures. The wedding couple was attractive. Carmen was a beautiful woman, with eyes that sparkled as she looked up adoringly at Rafe. And he was exceptionally handsome. They appeared to be the perfect couple.

  She went through the pictures. They were the traditional ones of the family, mothers, fathers, attendants. Rafe’s mother beamed with pride.

  “I wondered where those pictures were.” Rafe’s voice startled April so badly that she dropped the pictures onto the counter. His hand came around her and he picked up the photo of him and Carmen standing in front of the altar.

  “She’s a beautiful woman, Rafe,” April said, unable to help herself.

  Rafe held the picture at arm’s length. After several moments, he set it down. “I guess so.”

  She stared at him incredulously.

  He glanced down at her. “Do you know what I see when I look at that picture?” he quietly asked.

  “No.”

  “I see a woman who griped and complained that she wasn’t getting the creature comforts that she needed and deserved, and how lonely she was, and what a lousy companion I was—always working at the damned job. She wanted the money, and I don’t know how she thought I was going to get it. Rob a bank?

  “It was the most miserable eighteen months of my life.” He took a deep breath, then laughed. “I’m telling you, after Carmen, I think of marriage as a curse.”

  Well, that certainly smashed any fantasies April might have had about a future with Rafe.

  He motioned to the stack of envelopes on the counter. “Are these all pictures of the wedding?”

  “No.” She pulled out the first one she’d looked at and handed it to him. “These are pictures of you.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. Pulling out the photos, he slowly went through the stack. He came to the picture of himself on the tricycle, smiling into the camera.

  “That’s my favorite,” she commented, reaching out to touch the picture. “You look mighty proud of yourself. What had happened?”

  “I had just gotten the tricycle. I was feeling like a grown-up.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing the things that make us happy when we’re young.” His eyes met hers, and he added softly, “But you don’t have those memories, do you, April?”

  “No.”

  “Coming up on CNN news—the story of a woman without a past. Maybe you can identify her,” said a commentator.

  Immediately, Rafe and April’s attention focused on the TV.

  “That’s terrific,” he said. “I was expecting several days’ wait.”

  They both walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. After the commercial, the piece documenting April’s predicament ran. Once it was over, Rafe sat back. “Let’s pray that it will bring some results.”

  “I hope it brings the results we want,” April murmured as she walked back into the kitchen.

  He snagged her arm. “You said you trusted me, didn’t you, April?”

  “I do. It’s just that I don’t like being the center of attention. Makes me feel like I’m standing there in my underwear. It’s not a good feeling.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s quite a picture.”

  “You know what I mean. I feel vulnerable.”

  “I know. And if anything else was working, I wouldn’t have done the TV interview. But we have to take advantage of the opportunities that come our way.”

  She nodded, but from her expression, it was obvious she didn’t like it. He wondered why.

  The phone rang about an hour later.

  “Rafe,” Derek said, “we found the lady’s car—or at least we think it’s the lady’s car. It was in an arroyo on the eastern edge of Dick’s ranch. He found it when he was out checking his cattle this afternoon. It’s a little red foreign job, and it’s pretty banged up. I called the wrecker in Alpine to come out and pull it out of the ditch.”

  “We’re leaving right now.” After Rafe hung up the phone, he turned to April. “They found your car. Let’s go.�
�

  They saw the cars parked alongside the road, and Rafe parked his pickup behind the sheriffs car. After helping April out of the truck, he walked with her to the edge of the arroyo.

  “Hey, Rafe, how’s it going?” Dick asked.

  “Things are clicking, Dick.”

  “I heard that you did a television spot about April,” he commented, glancing at her.

  “Sure did. We’re hoping we can get some more leads. Maybe we’ll discover something new from the car.”

  Dick shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s pretty beat up. I don’t see a license plate on the back, but then again, there isn’t a bumper to hang a tag onto.”

  Sure enough, the little car was battered, missing the doors and rear bumper. The trunk had been sprung and flapped open.

  April came to the edge of the arroyo and looked down at the wrecked car, then at Rafe. Derek was at the bottom, looking into the car.

  “It’s like someone took a sledgehammer to it and went nuts,” April mumbled. All the windows were broken.

  “I think you’re lucky you weren’t in that car when it got caught in the flash flood.”

  April shivered at Rafe’s words. She wrapped her arms around her middle and watched as Derek reached through the broken passenger’s window into the glove compartment “Damn, there’s nothing here.” He glanced in both the front seat and back seat for the insurance papers. “There’s nothing here now.” Derek started back up to the top of the trench, then paused long enough to look at the front of the car. “There’s no license—no bumper on the front, either.”

  “How can we be sure it was my car?”

  Rafe looked at her. “We’ll locate the Vehicle Identification Number on it and run it through the state’s computer. Hopefully, something will come back.”

  “How long will that take?” She looked at Rafe, then Derek.

  “We can get that info today—tomorrow morning at the latest.”

  “But that doesn’t tell me what I was doing on that stretch of road,” she said.

  “I think, April, from the clues you’ve given me, you were looking for me,” Rafe answered. The longer he had thought about it, the surer he was that she had come searching for him. Though he had yet to figure out why.

  She didn’t argue with him, but watched in silence when the wrecker arrived and pulled her car out of the ditch.

  Once the car was secured on the wrecker, the driver gave April his card. “I’ll keep it in the salvage yard ‘til you make up your mind what to do.”

  From the look on April’s face, it was obvious that she was overwhelmed with the situation.

  “Thanks, Frank,” Rafe answered. “We’ll be in touch in a couple of days.”

  The man nodded, got in his truck, and drove off.

  “Well, I hope y’all are hungry. Alex has dinner waiting for us,” Derek informed them.

  Glancing at April, Rafe asked, “Would you like a break from your cooking? And some pleasant company?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “All right, Derek, we’ll be there.” Rafe turned to Dick and shook his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Hey, that’s what neighbors are for.” Dick waved at April and Rafe, then hopped in his car and drove off.

  April looked down into the arroyo and a shiver passed over her. “I’m lucky that I’m alive.” The words slipped from her lips. Turning, she said, “And you finding me was a miracle.”

  He didn’t know about the miracle part, but he was beginning to think he’d been the lucky one.

  After seeing her car, battered the way it had been, a dark cloud settled over April. How had she gotten out of the car? How close had she been—

  Rafe laid his hand over hers.

  “Quit worrying, April.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “How did you know that I was—”

  “It was written all over your face.” He touched the middle of her forehead. “You tend to get a wrinkle right there when you worry.”

  His answer surprised her. Was she that easy to read? “Well, it’s hard not to worry.”

  “I understand. But I found you and you’re okay. You’re getting stronger every day and it appears that some of your memory is returning.”

  He was right. Snatches of her life were beginning to surface. But she didn’t just want pieces. She wanted a past—one that she could remember. She wanted to know if what she felt for Rafe was free and clear of complications. How could she live with herself if she was married to someone else?

  But oddly enough, he seemed to understand her dilemma and hadn’t pushed. She suspected that he was as confused by what had happened between them as she was. It appeared that nothing was going to be easy for them.

  “What are you thinking about now?” Rafe softly asked.

  A guilty flush stained her cheeks.

  “Uh....”

  He waited patiently for her to respond.

  “I’m glad we found the car.”

  He threw her a look of disbelief, letting her know that he didn’t buy her answer. But he didn’t press her.

  “What kind of cook is your sister?” April asked, eager to refocus the conversation.

  “Well, for a doctor, she’s pretty good.”

  April stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Alex isn’t as good a cook as Mabel, but considering that her main goal in life was to be a doctor, she turned out to be a real good cook, too.”

  “That’s the oddest compliment I do believe I’ve ever heard. She didn’t want to learn to cook but is okay now.”

  “Now, I didn’t say that, April.”

  “What exactly did I miss?”

  He shook his head. “I can see that putting something past you would be difficult.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know how good I am at reading people, but with you—”

  “Yes?” His voice was soft, but she recognized the pit she was about to fall into.

  “I seem to know.”

  He didn’t respond verbally, but she felt him withdraw.

  They had plunged over the edge already, and both of them desperately wanted to get back to solid ground. The trouble was that each time they said or did something, the ground under them seemed to disintegrate, leaving them grappling to gain their balance.

  Before she had time to reply, the town of Saddle came into view. Rafe drove to the last house on the last street of the small town. Oddly enough, a helicopter sat across the road.

  April looked questioningly at Rafe.

  “It’s George.”

  “George? As in your father?”

  He nodded.

  April whipped around and stared at the black-and-red helicopter. Sure enough, “Anderson Oil” was written on the tail in red letters.

  April’s stomach clenched. “Why’s your father here?”

  Shrugging, Rafe opened his door. “Can’t say. But I’m sure we’ll know before too long.”

  She followed him out of the car. “How can you be so blase about this?”

  “What can I do? George’s a grown man with lots of money. He does what he wants.” There was a bleakness in his voice.

  She frowned.

  “Maybe he wanted to see Alex or the baby,” he said. “Or maybe he wanted to make sure you were okay after the shooting,” suggested April.

  Rafe shrugged off that possibility.

  April also had a suspicion that the man wanted to see this stranger Rafe had found, but she didn’t voice her thoughts.

  Rafe walked around his car and took her arm. “Don’t worry, April. George may be loud and pushy, but he’s a fair man. And he respects the person who stands up to him. Also, if Toni came with him, I thought I might explain to you that she’s my half sister, too, just like Alex. Dad went through several wives. His first wife gave him one daughter, J.D. Wife number two gave him Alex and Toni. George wanted a son.”

  “Are you warning me?”

  “I am. Don’t let him bully you. And don’t think he
won’t try.”

  “Terrific,” she grumbled as they walked to the door.

  A girl in her mid-teens with long blonde hair greeted them at the door. “Uncle Rafe,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hi, sweetie,” he answered, giving the girl a big hug. Sarah was Derek’s daughter by his first marriage. Amazingly, his sister Alex had taken her role of stepmother as easily as a bird flies. Rafe stepped back, he looked at Sarah. “My, my, you are growing. Your dad must want to pull his hair out, worrying about the young men who want to date his daughter.”

  She giggled, then playfully punched him on the arm. “Dad said I can’t date until I’m at least sixteen. Can you imagine that?”

  Rafe grinned. “I share your father’s view. Don’t be a heartache to him.”

  Alex entered the room with an older man. “Rafe, you’re here.” Immediately, she walked to Rafe and gave him a hug.

  “Where’s Derek?” she asked.

  The door opened behind them. “Here I am.” Derek hugged Alex, then his daughter Sarah. “I see we have company.” Derek nodded toward the older man standing in the living room.

  “Dad and Toni came down to check on Rafe and meet the mystery lady,” Alex informed him, stepping to his side.

  George Anderson shook Derek’s hand, then turned to Rafe. There was a smile of pride on the old man’s face. “You’re looking good, Rafe.”

  Son. Although George didn’t voice the word, it was there, shimmering between them. And pride was in George’s eyes when he viewed the tall man that was his son.

  Another young woman, in her mid-twenties, strolled into the room. She was carrying a toddler.

  “Rafe, I thought I heard you.” She walked over to him and hugged him, too. The baby cooed at Rafe and lifted her arms to him. It was obvious that the baby had recently had chicken pox; the lesions were in varying stages of healing.

  Much to April’s surprise, Rafe took the little girl in his arms. He seemed quite at ease with her.

  “How are you, chica?” he asked, smiling at the little girl.