Cynthia stared into Kendall’s face with a deprecating look. “Well, I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said sweetly, “but you do need a maid, and it looks like one has just dropped right into your lap. It’s fortunate how things worked out, isn’t it?” Cynthia turned and walked away toward the kitchen table, as if dismissing Kendall, and sat down. She turned and glanced Kendall’s way and added, “Could you get me a cup of coffee, dear?”
“I’ll get the coffee,” Casey stammered as she hurried over to the kitchen counter, then said to Kendall, “Why don’t you go ahead and sit down, too?”
“Actually, I think I’ll go to my room and finish reading that book you loaned me, so you can visit with your friend,” Kendall said. She turned and smiled genuinely at Cynthia, hoping to quell her obvious hostility. She didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with any of Casey Anne’s friends. “It was nice to meet you, Cynthia.”
“Certainly,” Cynthia responded snippily, looking away. “My, isn’t it a beautiful day.” She turned to look out the window, ignoring Kendall as she turned on her crutches to head out of the kitchen.
Casey stopped her. “Come on and sit down, at least for a few minutes,” she pleaded with her. “We’ll all have coffee and get to know each other.”
Kendall hesitated as she looked at Casey. “Okay, for just a while, and then I’ll let you two visit.”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to Jackson. Is he nearby?” Cynthia asked.
“No. He and Tom are out with John and the crew. They’re harvesting today.” Casey carried the coffee over to the table and nodded for Kendall to follow. “He won’t be back until lunch.”
“I wanted to remind him about the party at the Martins this weekend,” Cynthia continued as Casey handed her the coffee. She took a sip from her cup, placed it on the table and stood. “I really don’t have time to visit,” she added, smiling at Casey. “I’ve got tons of shopping to do today. Just wanted to stop by for a minute. Please remind Jackson for me that we have a date. You know how forgetful he is sometimes.”
Kendall wondered if Jackson wasn’t forgetful on purpose. This woman didn’t seem like his type at all. Though she was certainly attractive, Kendall thought Cynthia’s hair and makeup were overdone and her dressy attire seemed impractical for a morning of shopping. She imagined any woman Jackson dated would be much less prim and proper. Cynthia seemed incompatible with the down-to-earth man Kendall had come to know over the last few weeks.
“Sure, I’ll tell him,” Casey said.
“Tell him to pick me up at seven Saturday night and to bring his bathing trunks. And extra clothes in case we decide to spend the night,” Cynthia said as she leered out of the corner of her eye at Kendall. She erupted with a silly giggle and added, “You know how those parties can last all weekend sometimes.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Casey said without responding to Cynthia’s ridiculous display.
“No need. I know my way. I’ve certainly been here enough to know that.” Cynthia smiled at Casey, then glanced haughtily at Kendall as she turned toward the front hallway. “Thanks for the coffee, Sweetie,” she said as she smiled again at Casey, then disappeared through the kitchen door.
Kendall was still standing, propped on her crutches, in the middle of the kitchen floor as she heard the front door open and close. She recovered quickly and hobbled over to the kitchen table to sit down. Casey lowered herself into a chair, a look of disbelief on her face.
“What was that all about?” Casey asked, as if to herself, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kendall, to have put you through that. I should have let you escape when you wanted to. Although I’ve never considered Cynthia the best friend in the world, I never expected her to behave like that. She was absolutely boorish.”
Kendall laughed. “It’s all right, really. Besides, if she’s Jackson’s girlfriend, I suppose I’d better learn to get used to her.”
“Jackson’s girlfriend, hmm. I don’t know if I’d call her that, but the truth is, I don’t know what you’d call the two of them. Partners in crime, maybe?” Casey laughed at her own joke. A look of frustration came over her, though, as she mumbled, “Partners in something that ought to be a crime, anyway.”
Casey rose from the table and went to the kitchen sink to rinse out her coffee cup. Kendall remained seated, lost in thoughts of Jackson and Cynthia. Though she had attempted to be hospitable toward Cynthia, she really didn’t like the woman at all. But who was she to judge? This home had been graciously opened to her by a family of kind strangers, and it was more than she felt she deserved, more than anyone would deserve. She had no right to dislike anyone who was a welcome visitor in this home.. After all, it wasn’t her home. And Jackson wasn’t her…
Was that what was bothering her? Was she jealous? She knew she had no right to be, nor did she want to think of him that way. There were more important things she had to consider. It was tearing her apart inside that she had no memory of her life before she awoke in the hospital. What had she been like before? Who was her family? What kind of life had she lived? And where had she lived it? Were there people who were missing her, anguished over her disappearance? Kendall lay in bed every night wondering and crying about these things, begging for sleep that would include at least a dream of recollection that she would remember when she awoke. She desperately wanted to learn of her past, because until she was able to do that, there was no future for her. She had no name, no history. She was nobody now, and she wanted to reclaim her life.
And yet there was something about this family, Casey, Tom and even Jackson, which made her feel as though she would always want them to be a part of her life. She had no memory of the family from which she came, but she knew if she could choose, she would want her family to be like this one. The loyal and supportive relationship between Casey and her brother, Jackson, was a special one. They joked incessantly with each other and ribbed each other mercilessly sometimes, but the love and devotion they felt for each other seemed unconquerable. Perhaps a lot of that was due to their sad history. Casey had told Kendall about the death of their parents. They had both been killed in a car accident when Casey was only 15 and Jackson 19. The irony was that the accident had happened on Highway 42, only a few miles from where Casey’s fate had nearly been decided by a crazed stranger.
No matter what brought about their closeness, however, it was apparent that Jackson’s and Casey’s commitment to each other could never be broken. The same held true with Casey’s and Tom’s marriage, a union that seemed filled not only with passion but also with solid friendship. But the most remarkable thing about this family was the closeness among the three of them. Tom was no mere in-law in Jackson’s eyes. They all shared a special kinship that no one would ever be able to separate.
Was that why Kendall was bothered by Cynthia? Perhaps she felt Cynthia didn’t belong in this special group? No, it was more than that. She didn’t want to admit it, but Kendall knew that something was aroused inside of her every time Jackson was near. There were times when she would catch him watching her and her mind would recall that first day here when he had carried her from the car. The part of her that she couldn’t deny wanted to feel that again, the closeness of him, the strength of him.
She had to use her head, though. It was foolish of her to succumb to thoughts of him in that way. Besides, she knew he didn’t think of her like that. He had been more than kind to her and so generous with his visits while she’d been in the hospital. Since she’d been here at the farm, however, he often seemed as though he wanted to completely detach himself from her. It seemed the only thing he appreciated about Kendall was her cooking. Kendall shook her head back and forth as if in a shudder. Why was she even questioning these things? It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to think of him like that. She couldn’t think of him like that.
“Are you okay, Kendall?” Casey Anne asked as she turned from the sink and caught Kendall’s shuddering.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Kendall r
esponded. “Just had a little chill.”
Chapter 7
>Promptly at six-thirty on Saturday evening, Jackson left the farm to pick up Cynthia for their date. Kendall’s breath had caught in her throat when he emerged from his bedroom. She had never seen him look quite so handsome. She had watched him through the window as he walked across the yard toward the car. He moved with such an easy, confident gait. Though he wore a long-sleeved shirt, she could almost see the muscles in his arms flexing as he reached into the pocket of his slacks for the car keys. Oh, stop it, she admonished herself. Still, she couldn’t look away. Kendall watched as he opened the car door and bent at the knees to get in. He paused briefly and looked up at the window where Kendall sat. She turned her head away, embarrassed that he had seen her. When she looked back again, the car was gone.
That evening after supper Kendall, Casey and Tom had watched television in the den for a while, then retired to their rooms. Kendall lay in bed reading for hours. She had attempted sleep twice, but feeling restless, had given up each time and turned the light back on to resume reading. Now she was having a hard time concentrating on her book. She looked at the clock on the bedside table. 2:00 a.m. She had not heard Jackson return that evening. She supposed he had decided to spend the night at the Martins after all, as Cynthia had hinted they might. Kendall didn’t like to think it bothered her, but nonetheless, something was keeping her from sleeping.
She laid the book on the bed beside her and got up. She would go to the kitchen and make herself some hot cocoa. Perhaps that would make her drowsy enough to fall asleep. She put on one of Casey’s robes, grabbed her crutches and left her bedroom through the door to the rear hallway. She stopped just outside her room and glanced across the dark corridor at Jackson’s bedroom. The door stood open, a small lamp burning inside, dimly illuminating the interior. No sign of Jackson. Well, if he wanted to sleep with the likes of Cynthia, what business was it of hers? She didn’t care. Who was she to care about such things, anyway?
Kendall continued down the hallway to the kitchen and turned on the small light over the stove. The shadowy illumination of the room gave her a momentary feeling of loneliness. It occurred to her that whether she was in a sunlit room or one of darkness, the fact remained that she was absolutely alone. As kind and sympathetic as this family had been, they weren’t her family. She was alone and might remain that way for the rest of her life. She shook the thought from her head and reached into the refrigerator for the milk.
After making the cocoa she sat down at the large wooden table. She sipped the cocoa while thoughts of her predicament invaded her mind once again. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stay with these people forever. So far there had been no breakthroughs of her subconscious. Her life was buried in there somewhere, and she desperately wanted to dig it up. She at least wanted to dig up a part of it, anyway. Hopefully, a happy part.
She had an appointment with Dr. Sheila Adams, a psychotherapist, on Monday after the removal of her cast. Kendall had been wary of meeting with her at first. What if Dr. Adams managed to bring forth memories of the day of the accident? Kendall wasn’t sure she was ready to learn about the details. Dealing with the results of what this man had done to her was bad enough. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with the gory facts right now. But Dr. Morrison had suggested this particular therapist and had urged her to go. Since Kendall had come to feel a great deal of respect and admiration for Dr. Morrison, she decided to trust that he knew what was best for her.
Perhaps through Dr. Adams’s guidance, Kendall would be able to recall something from her past life other than the imagined horror of that fateful day on Highway 42. Still, without remembering everything, how could she truly regain her life? But what if her life prior to the accident had also been one of tragedy? Why had no one seen her picture on the Internet and contacted the Logan City Police? Was there truly no one who was missing her? Who was she? And what kind of person had she been?
Frustrated by doubts of herself and of the future, Kendall began to cry softly. She didn’t want to risk waking Tom and Casey, but as her emotions mounted, Kendall felt unable to control the tears. She pushed her cup of cocoa aside and folded her arms on the table. She leaned forward, her long auburn hair tumbling around her. She buried her face in her arms to muffle the sound and wept. Her shoulders trembled with each heartfelt sob, her thoughts now only of the anguish she felt at her dilemma.
Unexpectedly, she felt a hand smoothing the back of her head and heard that deep familiar voice murmur softly, “What’s wrong, Kendall?”
She raised her head to see Jackson standing beside her. Her heart lurched, not out of fear, but because of his mere presence and the feel of his hand in her hair. The dimly lit room cast sensual shadows across his face. His hand still caressed her hair.
“Unh,” she managed to say, the sound choking her and making her hiccup. She tried to suppress her crying and utter something intelligible. “I-I’m sorry,” she said brokenly.
Jackson removed his hand from her hair and sat in the chair next to her. He waited silently while she tried to compose herself.
She sniffled between deep breaths and repeated, “I’m sorry. Really.”
He looked at her, confusion and concern showing in his eyes. “What are you sorry about?”
“I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I don’t want to cause any of you any more trouble than I already have,” Kendall said earnestly. “I didn’t know you were here, or I would have…”
“What? Gone to your room and cried there?”
“Yes, I mean, no, it’s just that,” Kendall sputtered, embarrassed and unable to finish her sentence.
“I hear you crying in your room at night sometimes,” Jackson said gently. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her, a concerned tenderness in his eyes.
Kendall, ashamed that he had heard her crying all along, lowered her head and looked at her hands. She intertwined her fingers to try to stop her hands from trembling and held them in her lap. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I didn’t mention it because it bothered me. I’m just concerned about you. Have you talked to Casey about what’s upsetting you?”
Kendall, still gazing into her lap, shook her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Thanks, but it’s not fair that I should trouble you with any of this. I’ve imposed on all of you enough.” She placed her hands on the table and pushed back her chair to leave.
Jackson put his hand on her arm. “You’re no imposition,” he said.
She looked into his eyes as the tears welled up in her own again. “How can you say that? I’ve turned your lives upside down.”
Jackson emitted a small laugh. “How? By feeding me? Do you have any idea how many of Casey’s Rocky Horror biscuits I was forced to eat before you came here?” His face became serious again and he added, “But that’s not why you’re here and you know that. And we appreciate your being here. We’re not the least bit put out by it.”
“That’s kind of you to say. You’ve been generous in so many ways, but your generosity can’t continue forever,” Kendall said.
“That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it? You don’t know where to go from here.”
“What if nothing ever comes back to me?” Kendall stuttered and looked at him in earnest. She paused, her shoulders shaking, and looked down at the table. “And what if it all comes back and I was better off not knowing.”
“You’re afraid of what you might find out?” he asked her.
“I’m afraid of knowing, and I’m afraid of not knowing. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Why hasn’t someone missed me?”
“Maybe they have, maybe they’re missing you right now, but they don’t know how to find you,” he answered her.
“Or maybe there’s no one. Maybe the only thing I’ll remember is what happened on the side of that road. I’m scared of seeing that right n
ow. I have an appointment with Dr. Adams on Monday, and I’m afraid to go.”
“Then don’t go. Cancel it,” he said.
“But it’s like I said, I’m also afraid of not knowing. I have to try and find out something, even if it’s just the bad stuff.”
“You’re a strong woman. You’ve proven that with all you’ve been through. You’ve survived, physically and emotionally. And things will get better, Kendall.”
“Kendall,” she repeated, looking glum. “See, that’s part of it. I don’t even have a name. You call me Kendall, but that’s not my name.” She started to cry again. “It came off of a stupid box of g-gauze.”
“Hey,” he lifted her chin so that she could look at him. “It’s better than Johnson isn’t it?”
She laughed, a tiny sorrowful laugh at first, then she giggled and hiccupped, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I feel like such a big baby, crying and carrying on like this.”
“You’re not a big baby, Johnson.”
“Stop it.” She laughed again as she looked at him, her tears drying. “I’m too tired to laugh.”
“I think we both could use a good night’s sleep. Come on.” He rose from his chair and took her hand to help her up.
She stood and hobbled on her cast to reach for her crutches that lay against the wall. As she reached out, she swayed and lost her balance. Jackson grabbed her around the waist with one arm and held her against him.
“Careful,” he warned.
As she stood there next to him, she was lost momentarily in the nearness of him. His strong arm around her, his breath on her face, the warmth of leaning into his chest made her forget everything else but him. “Jackson?” She looked up at him. Then she smelled the scent of a woman’s perfume on him, reminding her that she didn’t belong to him. Cynthia’s presence still stood between them. It was Cynthia he wanted. Kendall didn’t belong to anyone.
“Yes?” Jackson answered her as he grabbed the crutches from the wall. He looked down at her, a sudden expression of intensity in his eyes. He held her against him tighter as he continued to gaze at her.
Jones, Beverly R Page 8