Time Tantrums

by Ginger Simpson

Taylor found her appetite as soon as she spied the biscuits and gravy. She took a seat at the table and hungrily split open two big flaky rolls and smothered them with creamy gravy. Seeing heat vapor rising, she carefully took her first bite. After she swallowed, she paused before a second taste. “Yum! My compliments to the chef, whoever that might be.”

  Frank refilled his coffee cup then pulled out a chair across from her. He turned it around and straddled it. Leaning against the back, he flashed a dazzling smile. “That would be me, I reckon.”

  “Well, you certainly are a good cook.” She wiped the edges of her mouth with her napkin and took another bite.

  “So are you... or you used to be.”

  Taylor wiped a gravy drip from her chin and burst into laugher. “There’s even more proof I’m not who you think I am. I can burn water.”

  The silence deafened her. She glanced around. “Where are the children?”

  “I had my foreman take them to my mother’s house this morning. I figured it would be a little easier for everyone if the they spent a few days away.”

  Her mouth turned to cotton. “Frank, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run the kids away from their own home.”

  “Kids? Oh, you mean the younguns." He blinked away his confused look. "It’s not your fault. Hell, I don’t even know whose it is. Let me tell you, I’ve played this over in my head a thousand times since you woke up. I’ve tried being mad at Jacob for having to pee. I’ve tried being mad at the rattlesnakes. And I’ve definitely been mad at you a few times.”

  Taylor chuckled. “I can imagine. David says I’m not the easiest person to live with.”

  A lump formed in her throat. Mentioning her husband reminded her how much she missed him.

  Frank took the last sip of his coffee and stood. “How about I get the buggy and pick you up out front? I had Lloyd bring it back when he dropped off the…kids.”

  She pushed her melancholy thoughts aside. “You’ve got a deal.”

  He flashed a boyish grin and removed his cowboy hat from the rack next to the back door. Placing his hat at a jaunty angle, he stepped onto the porch. Taylor scurried to the counter with her dirty plate and peered out the window. Frank paused for a moment, unbuckled his belt and tucked his denim shirt in more snugly. She released a long, slow breath.

  As if sensing she watched, he turned around and caught her gaze. She lowered her eyes and backed away from the window, too late to avoid his subtle smile and the flush creeping up her neck. Why did she feel like a child caught opening a Christmas package?

  Unable to resist another peek, she waited a moment then leaned her head over just enough to see out. Frank ambled across the yard and into the barn. Damn, he was a good-looking man; there was no doubt about that. His blue jeans hugged an ass tight enough to bounce a quarter off, and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows gave him a rugged look. With the black hat as a finishing touch, she considered him very, very sexy.

  “Girl, you have a husband at home,” she chastised herself. “Stop slobbering over someone else’s man. You’re thinking thoughts you ought not be thinking, Taylor Morgan.”

  She turned somber again.

  Did she really have a husband at home, or was she making up a whole other life?

  * * * *

  Taylor inspected the quaint little carriage. “So, this is the buggy we’re riding in,” she said with trepidation.

  “Yep.” He leapt down and came around to her side.

  “And… this is your horse!” She cautiously approached the animal and stood close until its eerie stare made her shiver. “I don’t think he likes me. He’s looking at me like I’m dinner.”

  Frank’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t worry, ol’ Gert wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s the best trotter I’ve got.”

  Taylor stared at the yellow, spoked wheels. “What’s the difference between a buggy and a wagon?”

  “A wagon is much sturdier.” He patted Gert’s muzzle. “The wagon would have been my first choice for the rough ground around the ranch, but I haven’t gotten it fixed since…” His voice faded into a whisper until he cleared his throat. “I should have replaced the wagon wheel by now, but I’ve been distracted by other things.”

  “I wouldn’t be one of those other things, would I?” she cooed, holding her head in a coquettish tilt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Denver, Colorado—2002

  With the nurse following, David wheeled Mariah into the hallway. She held steadfast to the arms of the chair and glanced down the long corridor stretching in front of her. The ceiling lights reflected in the highly polished floors and sparkled like a nighttime sky. As David pushed her along, she peeked inside each open door. She wanted to ask questions, but the answers to previous ones only made her more confused.

  David maneuvered her chair around the corner, toward two large doors. He stopped in front and pushed a button on the wall. She sat silently, wondering what would happen. When nothing did, she glanced up at him. “What’s the button for?”

  “The elevator.” He responded like she should know.

  “Elevator?”

  “Yes!” The annoyance in his voice smacked her like a slap in the face. “It carries people from floor to floor—we’re going down.”

  Although puzzled by his attitude, she was more interested in this new-fangled lift. How did someone get carried from floor to floor by it?

  The massive doors slid open to reveal a strange little room. Without a word, David turned the wheeled chair around and, tugging at its resistance to a raised threshold, bumped her up, over, and inside. After the nurse entered, he pushed another button, and the doors came together and sealed them inside. The metal prison sucked every bit of air from Mariah’s chest. She panted in quick gasps, detesting the feeling of confinement in such a small area. David seemed unaffected and obviously didn’t notice her state of panic.

  She struggled to regain control of her breathing and composed herself. The movement stopped with a thud, but her stomach didn’t. She swallowed the bitter taste of bile and took a deep breath when the doors opened. No longer afraid of using up all the air inside the cramped quarters, she exhaled and willed her body to relax.

  When she focused beyond the doors, Mariah gaped in awe. Before her was not the long corridor, but a large, open, airy room busy with people. David pushed her out into their midst and she tightened her grip on the armrests of her chair. Small and unobtrusive, she sat while people passed all around her. Her head whipped from side-to-side, taking in the wonder of the different styles of dress, hair, and skin color.

  Her eyes fixed on one certain woman. She wore something very similar to the scant piece of material the nurse had provided as clothing. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  "Oh my goodness. That was the bottom part,” she whispered, aghast at so much exposed skin.

  Mariah’s gaze dropped to the shoes the woman wore.

  Father in heaven, she thought. How did someone walk on toothpicks.

  She vaguely heard David say something about leaving the wheeled chair at the front desk, and looked up only long enough to wave as the nurse walked away. Her attention snapped right back to the amazing sights.

  Beyond the crowd, Mariah noticed another bustling world of people outside huge windows. Her heart raced as so many of the colorful vehicles David called ‘cars,’ whizzed by. They looked quite different from this angle--moved by themselves, without horses or mules.

  She looked up at David and put her hand to her bosom. “Do we have a car?”

  “Yes, we do. We had two before your accident. The Lexus was totaled, but thank goodness we have good insurance.”

  “Lexus? Insurance? He might as well speak in gibberish.

  He clenched and unclenched his lips. “I keep forgetting you don’t remember things. Lexus is the kind of car you had. Don’t you recall? You loved driving it so much.”

  Mariah lowered her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have any rec
ollections of a car. I can tell by the tone in your voice you’re tired of me asking so many questions, but try to imagine what it feels like to be in my place. I don’t remember any of this and it scares me to death.”

  “I’m so sorry. I should be more considerate.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I want so badly for you to remember." His fingers clamped into her skin as his remorseful tone turned urgent. "I want you back the way you were.”

  She understood his distress, but had no idea of his meaning. She’d always been Mariah and she liked herself… but in the place and time she remembered.

  Her life couldn't be only a dream. Every part of it was etched in her memory--Frank, the kids, the ranch—how could she make it all up?

  She looked at David through teary eyes. “I’m trying. That’s all I can say for now. I’m trying. Please be patient a little longer.”

  He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I know you are . I am, too. We have to give it more time.”

  Startled by his spontaneous kiss, Mariah pressed back in the chair. Before he attempted another, she turned her head and stared out the window.

  Kisses? Definitely not, but time? She could give him that. In fact, time was about the only thing she had left.

  He steered her chair to a counter and stopped. She glanced up at him. “What now?”

  “You sit tight and I’ll go get the car.” He pulled keys from his pocket. “I’ll park in the loading zone and come get you.”

  At the thought of being left alone amidst strangers and riding in a strange conveyance to who knew where, Mariah’s heart rate quickened. “I’ll be right here,” she responded with a bravery she didn't feel. Besides, where else could she go?

  She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying about what was yet to come.

  * * * *

  David wheeled her outside into the brightness. Despite the sun peeking through the tall buildings, the air felt crisp and cool. David's narration got lost in the loud din of the city—a city of which she’d never seen the likes.

  He pushed the wheelchair toward a shiny, black car, and after pushing the brake lever on her chair forward, helped her stand. “Here we are. Let me get the door.”

  Mariah held her hospital gown closed, bent, and peered inside.

  Her eyes widened at a big round wheel, levers on the floor—more strange gadgets. "God, please help me," she whispered.

  A shiver of apprehension quivered through her as she sat on the seat's edge, turned and put her feet inside. David leaned in, stretched a belt across her body and locked it into a coupling of some sort. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and closed the door, sealing her inside. She prepared for the same feeling she’d experienced in the new-fangled elevator, but the surrounding windows provided a much more open feel.

  Afraid to move, she scanned the interior further. She touched the soft material overhead with one hand, while her other one caressed the seat cushion. She splayed her fingers against the cold glass window, then eyed the meters and knobs before her. How could someone forget such things?

  David interrupted her inspection when he slid in beside her. “Are you ready?”

  “I suppose.” Her heart pounded, partly in anticipation and partly from fear. He pulled his own belt across his lap and locked it, then inserted a key into a slot and turned it. The conveyance came alive. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and she jumped. “What’s that noise?”

  “Don’t be scared, it’s just the engine.” His laughter began to annoy her. She saw nothing funny in her logical questions.

  “Is it supposed to sound like that?”

  “Yes, dear, all cars sound this way. I just had ours tuned. Remember?”

  Remember, remember. Is that all you can say? If I remembered, would I ask? I’m going crazy. I don’t remember, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.

  Using both hands, she pushed her hair behind her ears and forced herself to be calm. “No, but it’s not important.” She blew a silent blast of air through pursed lips. Cars, Lexus, tuned: too much to consider.

  David’s foot applied pressure to a lever on the floor. He looked over his shoulder and pushed harder, and they surged forward into the line of other cars. Mariah held her breath and grasped the side of the seat. She forced herself to keep her eyes focused straight ahead as they approached the car in front of them.

  The ride wasn’t as scary as she’d expected, in fact, a lot smoother than a wagon, and David appeared to know what he was doing. Despite wondering how they moved so fast, she sagged into the seatback, loosened her grip and relaxed.

  From the corner of her eye, the scenery outside seemed to move instead of the car. Her stomach rolled, and she felt ill. The feeling lessened if she looked directly through the front window. She focused on the road ahead.

  The landscape changed the farther they traveled. Houses rather than tall buildings now lined the streets. Beautiful homes decorated with shrubs and grass. She always thought her home beautiful, but these were very different. She looked from one side to the other, not wanting to miss a thing.

  The car slowed before houses situated so close together, they reminded her of the buildings around the mercantile. David turned into an opening in front of a brick building and stopped. “We’re home,” he announced with a grin.

  She stiffened at his announcement.

  His was a two-story, just like her home on the Rocking C but larger. David got out, came around ad opened her door. She stood, clutching her hospital gown, and stared wide-eyed at the sea of green, evenly cut and separated by a brick walkway that matched the house.

  David looked at her. “If I’d known you weren’t going to wear your clothes home, I would have brought your robe. Let’s get you inside.” He led her past a door labeled 1A.

  He stopped at 1B, inserted a key, pushed open the door and stepped inside. With a bow, he made a sweeping gesture. “Here we are. Welcome home.”

  Shouldn’t she remember this? Her mind reeled. Cars, houses of all colors and sizes, buildings taller than the hills around the Rocking C. Her hard swallow pushed down the lump that formed in her throat.

  She reached out and touched the plaque on the door. “What does 1A and 1B mean?”

  David’s lips thinned. “Those are the address numbers of the condos. There are two together. Next door is 1C and 1D and so on.”

  Condos? She wasn't asking. She'd just assume condo was a new word for home.

  A shiny, marble floor greeted her in the entryway. She touched the small blossoms on the wall covering, then took two steps and sunk into a downy rug, the largest she'd ever seen. It wasn't even braided and went from one wall to the other.

  She looked at David. “This…this is breathtaking.” She didn’t know what else to say. The room was full of beautiful things—furniture, paintings, plants.

  Could they really be hers? How could she forget such lovely things?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colorado Territory--1872

  Frank, already seated in the buggy, took Taylor’s hand and helped her inside. She tried to manage a graceful entrance, but the hem of Mariah’s long dress caught on the carriage step and Taylor nearly fell backwards. She flailed her arms and struggled to retain her balance, grabbing Frank’s hand in her panic. “Geez Louise, how in the hell do women maneuver in these things?”

  He clasped her hand and steadied her. “Careful!”

  Taylor plopped next to him, pulled her full skirt inside and tucked it under her legs. Once settled, she smoothed the material and folded her hands in her lap. “Okay, give it the gas, I’m ready!”

  He tilted his head and gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m not even gonna ask your meaning. No doubt your answer’ll be just as confusin’.” Frank rippled the reins and the buggy began to roll. Gert’s slow pace was consistent with her age.

  Taylor leaned back and relaxed. She’d never taken a horse and buggy ride before, and she inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. It felt good to be out of the house. Besides an occa
sional birdcall, only the slight creak of turning wheels and the clip-clop of Gert’s hoofs on the hard dirt disturbed the morning stillness.

  A beautiful day loomed. Taylor straightened to view the breathtaking scenery. For endless miles, expansive fields of swaying grass and wild flowers colored the landscape. The sun, inching toward wisps of white clouds floating high in a powder blue sky, created the perfect backdrop. A cool morning breeze caressed her face, and her body moved in sync with the swaying buggy. For the first time in days, she found herself enjoying something.

  Frank hadn’t uttered a word since they passed under the big C on the front gate. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, and held the reins in both hands. He stared straight ahead, seemingly lost in thought. Since the brim of his hat partially hid his face, she had difficulty determining his mood.

  He'd talk eventually, she felt sure. He started the day in a good mood and she hadn't done anything to ruin it.

  Craning her neck to see beyond the crest of the next hill, Taylor's breath hitched. “Oh, this is beautiful. I’ve never seen such a serene setting. Is all this land yours?”

  As if her cheerful statement woke him, Frank leaned back and pushed his hat off his forehead. “Yep, this is all ours.”

  For a fleeting moment, Taylor’s hackles spiked at his inference they were a couple, but she took a big gulp of fresh air and decided to ignore it. Her gaze roamed from side-to-side, her eyes widened. “It’s really beautiful. I’ve never seen such vibrant colors. How did you...we come to own so much property?”

  He made a clicking nose to urge Gert up a small knoll. “My father started the ranch years ago, but it got to be too much for him. I’m an only son, so he passed it on to me.”

  “Where does your family live now?”

  Frank’s jaw tensed. “My father died a few years back.”

  Taylor rested her hand atop his. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine losing a parent. Mine are very dear to me." Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing her own again. She dismissed her worry and focused on Frank. "What about your mother?”