“So I’m getting better, right?”
The doctor smiled a distant smile. “It does appear that way, yes. As to the retrograde amnesia you report, there are a number of other tests we can run…”
“And those tests will do what?”
She considered for a moment. He had the sense that she was choosing just the right words. “Frankly,” she said in time, “the type of amnesia you appear to be experiencing is quite rare. It’s not often a patient forgets his entire life after a brain injury.”
He asked again, “But what will extra tests do?”
“We might find out more…”
“‘More’ meaning…?”
“Mr…” She remembered he had no last name. “Ash. I think for now, we can wait.”
“Wait for?”
“Your body seems to be doing an excellent job of healing on its own.”
He almost laughed. “So I’ve been trying to tell everyone.”
“It’s possible and even likely that over time your memory—or a good portion of it, anyway—will return.” She flipped to yet another page of the ream of paperwork they’d had him fill out. “I see that you’ve recalled some of your past already…”
“A little.”
“Good, good.” She peered at his chart. “You’re reasonably close to us, right? In North Magdalene?”
“Yeah.”
“And you have someone staying with you at all times?”
“I do. Tessa Jones. I’m…a guest at her house.”
“Since your recovery so far has been close to miraculous, I think it’s advisable to let nature keep on doing its excellent work for a while. At this point, I’m going to release you, with the understanding that you will call immediately if you experience any recurrence of your earlier symptoms. By that I mean headache, nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, anything out of the ordinary.”
“All right.”
“Don’t fly unless you call me and get my okay first.”
“I won’t.” He almost laughed. As if he could get on a plane without ID and with no one even being able to vouch for who he actually was.
“If all goes well, I’ll want to see you again in a week. They’ll give you a number for my office at the front desk. Call there and ask my receptionist to set you up with an appointment. I want to be sure you continue to heal as you have been. Next week we’ll discuss further testing and treatment.” Another of those distant smiles. “And that’s it. For now. Unless there’s something else you want to talk about…”
As far as he was concerned, there’d been way more talking than necessary already. “No. I’m good.”
Tessa was waiting in the reception area when they let him out.
She stood when she saw him, her sweet face a portrait of hope. And concern.
He went to her, wrapped her in his arms, whispered, “I’m all right. They want me to see the doctor again next Tuesday, for a checkup. That’s all.”
She clung to him and whispered fervently, “I’m so glad. So relieved.”
He stroked her silky hair, thinking that the whole unnecessary trip to Grass Valley, the endless stack of paperwork, all of it, was worth it if it eased her mind.
When she pulled away, she suggested, “I think we might as well try to talk to a reporter at the Union, since we’re here.”
He only looked at her. Bleakly.
She got the message. “Well, fine,” she conceded after a moment. “Enough for today.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say those words.”
“We do need to stop at the supermarket, while we’re here.”
“Didn’t I see a grocery store in North Magdalene?”
“You did. It’s way pricey and the selection is limited. Everyone in town comes down here to shop once a week or so.”
So they went to Raley’s Supermarket. Ash found it strange, to walk down the wide aisles in the attractive, well-organized store, pushing the cart, passing people with their own carts. So many people, going about their daily lives, buying groceries, going to work or whatever, all of them knowing who they were and where they belonged.
Except him.
Then they stopped at a coffee shop for sandwiches before they hit the highway. When Tessa put the money on the table for the waitress, he thought that he really needed to find a way to repay her for all she’d done for him.
It was dark by the time they got back to North Magdalene. The Victorian-style streetlights were on along Main Street, casting the old buildings in a golden light. In no time, they were out of the heart of town and turning onto Locust Street, where the dark trees loomed above and the snow had been plowed into high banks to either side. The sky overhead was clear and thick with stars.
“Beautiful night,” he said.
Tessa made a noise of agreement—and then let out a moan of distress. “Oh, no.”
Up ahead, there were three vehicles in her driveway. The house was all lit up.
“What’s going on?”
“That’s my dad’s pickup. And Gina’s SUV. They have a key to the house. You know, just in case. And the big gold Cadillac belongs to—”
“Let me guess. Your grandfather.”
“Right,” she said grimly as she pulled in beside the SUV.
“What? You don’t want to see them?”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.” She had yet to turn off the engine.
“Tessa, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I hope.”
The door to the enclosed porch opened. A tall man emerged. In the glow from the porch light, Ash could see the man had brown hair, graying at the temples. He wore jeans and workboots and a heavy camo jacket.
“That’s my dad, Patrick,” Tessa said.
Behind him came Jack Roper and behind Jack, a giant guy with long red-gold hair, also turning gray. And two more men who resembled Tessa’s dad. Taking up the rear was Oggie Jones, leaning heavily on that gnarled wooden cane of his.
Ash got the picture. “All your uncles, your dad. And your grandfather. This isn’t good, is it?” A slim dark-haired woman lingered on the front step. Ash assumed she must be the stepmother, Gina. The men approached the wagon where Tessa and Ash still sat.
Tessa made another low, unhappy sound. “You’re about to meet the men of my family. Oh, Ash. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Twelve
Tessa was furious with them. All of them. How dare they?
Her dad tapped on the driver’s side window.
She whispered to Ash through gritted teeth, “We could just back up and drive away…”
“Not unless you want to run over your grandfather.”
She glanced in the rear-view mirror. Sure enough, Oggie had hobbled on back there without her noticing. The old coot could move pretty fast when he wanted to.
And he was grinning. In the glow of her brake lights, his eyes gleamed devil-red.
“Roll down the window, Tessa,” Ash said. He sounded kind of amused. Which she guessed wasn’t all that surprising. After the hell he’d been through, facing four overprotective middle-aged men and one really old guy with a cane probably didn’t seem all that scary.
Little did he know.
She pushed the button and the window slid down. “What?”
Her dad had his reasonable face on. Tessa knew it was just an act.
“We got worried,” Patrick said.
“About what?”
Instead of an answer, he fired back a question. “Where have you been?”
She stuck out her chin at him. “To the hospital in Grass Valley. Which you should already know if you’ve talked to Uncle Jack.” She sent a glare past her dad’s shoulder at her interfering uncle, who stood back a little with her other uncles, Sam, Brendan and Jared.
“We got a little worried,” her dad said again. As if she hadn’t heard him the first time. “You didn’t answer your phone here at the house or your cell.”
“Dad. I haven’t been at the ho
use to answer my phone, if it’s even working. Which it hasn’t been since Saturday. And I forgot my cell. But everything’s fine. If you’ll step back from the door so I can get out of the car, we can all go inside and…have some coffee or whatever.”
Her dad ignored her words—again—and nodded across the seat at Ash. “Hey. How you doin’?”
“Under the circumstances, not bad at all.” Ash held out his hand.
Her father’s work-roughened paw came through the open window. Tessa had to scrunch back in the seat so they could reach across her and shake. Once that was done, her dad said, “Jack tells us you got amnesia.” Tessa was not the kind who hit people. But she wanted to pop her dad a good one for that, for the way he said it so casually. Like amnesia was something people got every day. On the level of a head cold or a hangnail.
But Ash wasn’t offended. He shrugged. “Sad but true.”
“You’re starting to remember, though?”
“Yeah. Some of it is coming back.”
“Well, good. How ‘bout poker? You remember how to play poker?”
“Oh, no,” said Tessa.
Both men ignored her. Ash said. “Yeah. I remember.”
“Texas Hold’ em?”
“Can do.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Tessa, go on inside with Gina. Your friend here is coming with us.”
Ash found the whole situation humorous.
Too bad Tessa didn’t. She seemed determined to protect him from her family, whether or not he needed protecting. When her dad told her to go inside, she refused to get out of the car.
Ash had to lean across and whisper in her ear. “Tessa. It’s okay. I’ll play a little poker, get to know them. It’s going to be fine.”
She searched his face, her eyes anxious. “You’re sure?”
He held her gaze as he nodded.
So finally, with reluctance, she got out of the car. “You treat him right, you hear me,” she growled at her father.
Her dad played innocent. He raised his arms wide to the side, as if to prove he carried no weapons. “Come on, Tessy. Settle down.”
“Call me Tessy again and you won’t like what I do next.” She slammed the car door harder than necessary. Then she turned and marched toward her waiting stepmother without once looking back.
Ash watched her go, thinking she was one hell of a woman and he was honored to know her.
Then the door on his side swung open and the cold night air came in and wrapped itself around him. Oggie Jones leaned in close. “Come on, son,” the old man said. “You can ride with me.” Ash looked into those all-knowing black eyes and wondered if he was making a mistake. Maybe he should have listened to Tessa and refused to go with them.
But it was too late to back out now.
Patrick, Jack and the guy with the long hair who Ash assumed must be Delilah’s husband, Sam, took the pickup, with Jack squeezing into the back of the extended cab. The other two men got in the back seat of the Cadillac. They were Jared and Brendan, Ash found out during the short drive to The Hole in the Wall Saloon.
A tall, handsome woman with strawberry hair came forward to greet him when they all went inside. “I’m Eden, Jared’s wife.” She took his hand and smiled at him in a reassuring way.
“Man’s got a cash shortage,” said Oggie. “He’s gonna need a little advance. A couple hundred oughtta do it. And if Tessy calls, you tell her we are in the back and not to be disturbed.”
The place was nice and dim, with dark wood walls and round tables, bentwood chairs and a molded ceiling like the one at Tessa’s store. The few people at the bar turned to look when they entered, but then quickly went back to minding their own business.
“This way.” Jared headed for a green curtain at the rear. The others, including Ash, followed.
In the alcove beyond the curtain, a round table with a felt cover waited, a deck of cards and a single ashtray in the center of it. The men took seats. Oggie claimed the ashtray and lit up a cigar. Smelly gray smoke curled toward the hooded lamp above. A bartender came in, put a small stack of bills in front of Ash and took their drink orders. They all had beer or whiskey, except for Jared, who ordered club soda.
The men put their money down and the drinks came within a few minutes.
Oggie offered a toast. “Here’s to you, Bill.”
“It’s Asher.” Ash raised his beer and the others did, too. “Call me Ash.” Nobody drank. They all sat there, blank-faced, with their drinks raised high.
Oggie cackled. “I coulda sworn you said your name was Bill. From Napa.”
Ash looked at him steadily. “I lied. It seemed simpler than explaining how I don’t know who I really am. But then your granddaughter talked me into being honest, heading over to the sheriff’s station and getting with Jack, here, telling him everything I know…”
The old guy puffed on his stinky cigar. “And how’d that work out for you?”
“Looking around this table, I’m thinking I might have been better off to have stuck with pretending to be Bill.”
That brought a laugh from everyone but Patrick.
Brendan said, “Well, hell. Here’s to you, Ash.” They drank.
“Deal,” Oggie commanded, sipping more whiskey.
Jared grabbed the cards and shuffled expertly. “Cut.” He slapped them down in front of Sam and the giant redhead did the honors.
Jared burned the top card and dealt them each two down.
The game had begun.
Ash won steadily. He realized quickly that he knew the game well, that he easily kept track of the cards and knew the odds of filling out each of his hands, knew when to bluff and when to play it straight, when to go all in and when to stay conservative. But the Joneses and Sam Fletcher were solid players, too. And none of them had more than the one drink they’d ordered at the first. They were all playing sharp.
Lady Luck made the difference. It seemed she sat on Ash’s shoulder.
Oggie remarked on his good fortune more than once. “You’re a lucky sonofagun, ain’t you? Well, other than whatever happened to leave you not knowin’ who the hell you are, that is.” And later, “Unless you hit a losin’ streak, remind me not to play cards with you again…”
After several hours, Ash had cleaned them all out. He counted out the two hundred he’d started with and left it on the table along with another hundred for a tip. Yeah, he felt marginally guilty about taking their money after they had staked him. But like all the other things he knew without knowing how he knew them, he understood that you didn’t beat a man fair and square at poker and then insult him by offering to give his money back.
They shook hands all around. Sam even clapped him on the back.
Oggie said, “Having met some of Tessy’s other boyfriends, I’m pleased to say you are a definite improvement, whoever the hell you turn out to be.”
Patrick scowled. “Watch what you say about my little girl, Dad.”
“Been calling it as I see it for ninety-one years and counting.” Oggie blew smoke at the ceiling. “Can’t see any reason to change now.”
“Take my brothers on home,” Patrick said in a voice that invited no discussion.
“Always glad to help,” Oggie replied. They filed out into the main room, which was deserted. Only a couple of lights were on over the long, gleaming mahogany bar and the bentwood chairs had been upended on the tables. The clock above the door said it was 2:32 a.m.
The Cadillac and the pickup were both parked in front. Oggie, Sam, Jared and Brendan got into the El Dorado.
“Don’t hurt him too bad,” Oggie called out to Patrick before ducking into the driver’s seat. “We promised Tessy we’d bring him back in one piece.”
“Shut up, old man.” Patrick spoke more or less automatically as he climbed into the pickup and pulled the door closed.
Feeling only slightly apprehensive, Ash got in on the passenger side.
Patrick stared out the windshield, making no move to start the engine, as Oggi
e gunned the Caddy’s big motor, and then pulled out and drove away. The car’s taillights disappeared as it turned a corner.
More silence. The street was deserted, quiet as the end of the world, the snow on the sidewalk roofs sparkling in the glow from the vintage streetlights. Even the brown road-salt slush on the pavement seemed to glitter.
Finally, still staring out the windshield, Patrick spoke. “You seem all right. I like the way you handle yourself.” He turned then and leveled his gaze on Ash. “You understand, we needed to get a sense of you. Just to be on the safe side.”
Ash didn’t let his gaze waver. “I’ve got no problem with that.”
“Tessa takes care of herself and does a pretty fair job of it. I know I got no right to interfere in her life. But a father has got to do what he can to be certain nothing bad is going to happen to his kid.”
Ash nodded. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
“I’m gonna say this, because I have to. Because this whole amnesia thing you have going on makes for what I would call special circumstances, given that there’s no damn way any of us can get inside your head and know what’s really happening in there. So this is what I have to tell you. You be straight with my girl, do the best you can in your dealings with her and you’ll hear no complaints from me or mine. But if I find out you stole from her or turned out to be lying this whole time—”
Ash put up a hand. “I get the picture. And it’s fine. It’s fair.”
Patrick Jones nodded. “Just so we understand each other.”
“We do.” The strangest thing happened then. Patrick’s face faded. Ash was looking at his own father, at thick silver hair and still-black brows. Green eyes. A square jaw with a cleft, same as his own. A certain air of pride. And command.
Davis, he thought, and knew it was his father’s name.
And then, in an instant, the illusion faded. He was once again staring into the blue eyes of Patrick Jones.
“Well, all right.” Tessa’s dad actually smiled. “We better get on back then. Those women will be gettin’ riled and a riled woman is the last thing a man needs in the middle of the night.”
Tessa and her stepmother were sitting at the table when Ash and Patrick entered the house.
The Stranger and Tessa Jones Page 13