So he’d gone. And he’d stayed gone. And no one had missed him, because they didn’t realize he was the one who’d left.
“I’ll see you later.” Tom headed back to the house, his entire outlook changed, his whole world changed. He remembered his life.
He was Thomas Beckett. And he had one up on the rest of the family: He knew he was Thomas Beckett. They didn’t realize he’d regained his memory.
He savored the knowledge, keeping it to himself for the time being. Something strange was going on here and he wanted a better understanding before they became aware of his recovery.
Just who all knew, he wasn’t sure. Dan, obviously. And probably Lorrie. No doubt that’s where the uneasy vibes he’d picked up on came from. He observed them for days, watched their awareness of one another. Sometimes it seemed they forgot whatever strained their relationship. They’d be sitting at the table or playing with one of the kids, and then a casual touch or a laugh would remind them and their faces would change. The uneasiness was so subtle, Tom was sure none of the others picked up on it.
Tom studied Lorrie one afternoon, as she folded clothes and stacked them on the kitchen table. It had been such a long time ago that they’d dated. He probably could have liked her better—maybe even fallen for her—if Gil hadn’t pushed her on him.
But since she’d been his father’s choice, she hadn’t been his, even though she had appealed to him. Teenage hormones had prevailed, however. After that incident, he’d gotten scared. Scared of getting trapped. Scared of becoming what his father wanted him to become. Scared of missing out on everything life had to offer.
So he’d left. Taking off hadn’t been fair to her. It hadn’t been fair to Dan. But life wasn’t fair, and he had to live with himself.
Now that he saw her, knew her, he couldn’t help wondering what his running out on his unbearable life had done to her. Apparently she hadn’t missed him too much because she’d immediately married Dan. Why had she done that?
A dawning possibility made the hair on his neck stand up.
Had she been pregnant? He couldn’t recall more than maybe one time with her. Rapidly, he tallied Thad’s age and tried to remember when Dan had said his birthday was. It was possible. But why would they have pretended that Dan was him? That blew his mind more than anything.
“Did you and Tom go out very long before you got married?” he asked.
Lorrie smoothed a neatly folded T-shirt without looking at him. “Not really. We’d known each other since we were young, though.”
He remembered. Gil had dragged him to every boring veterans’ shindig, yapping the whole way about the Loring girl and how he should treat her nice and spend time with her. “Did you have a big wedding?”
She shook her head. “Your mother wasn’t up to it, and Gil was occupied with taking care of her.”
His mother. The memory was like a fall that knocked the wind out of his lungs. The day he left, he’d gone to her bed in the dining room and sat beside her for an hour, holding her hand, telling her his dreams. What he hadn’t told her, what he didn’t have the courage to tell her, was goodbye.
Like a coward, he’d left that up to Dan.
“When did she die?”
Lorrie looked up at him. “The March after you left.” Unthinkingly, she folded the fabric-softener sheet into a square. “I remember it rained lightly the morning of her funeral and cleared off before the service. It turned into a pretty day, with the orchards ready to blossom.”
“So, you, after you were married, you moved into the house and took care of her?”
“Not entirely. Your father did most of it. I took over the house. It was in pretty bad shape, what with just the men knocking around in it, needing all their time in the orchards.”
So Gil got the daughter-in-law he’d wanted, after all. “And then Thad came along?”
“A couple of weeks after your mother died. I wish she could have seen him.”
Tom imagined Dan and Gil and Lorrie going through his mother’s things, taking down the bed she’d spent her last days in. A new baby must have been a welcome diversion. “I'll bet it helped Dad, getting a new grandson so soon after she died.”
“Thad was good for all of us,” she replied.
Tom saw Thad with new eyes, too. He couldn’t help wondering. Was Thad his? Was that the discomfort he sensed between Dan and Lorrie? They’d probably felt safe in thinking that Tom wouldn’t be back and no one would ever know the difference. And no one would. Hell, how could they? Thad looked just like both of them!
And Gil. Tom observed the old man’s frustration at being unable to help Dan. He saw his pride in the orchards, in Dan, in his grandchildren. How hard it must have been for such a proud, unyielding man to care for a bedridden wife, to wonder what would become of the orchards after he himself died. Perhaps seeing his wife’s mortality had made his own clear, and he’d taken measures to secure the property and the business for future generations.
Tom wasn’t ready to forgive him, but maybe, just maybe, he could understand him a little better.
He was sure Gil didn’t know about Dan’s masquerade. There would have been no purpose in him instigating it. And certainly no good would have come of Dan telling him. How could Gil have been so blind to the fact that Dan had assumed a new identity?
None of it made sense.
And then there was Cedra
Having his memory intact where Cedra was concerned was pure torture. Having known her as a stranger these past weeks only made him appreciate her more.
On the outside, she was fun-loving, slightly outrageous, frank and completely comfortable with her sexuality. But Tom knew her on the inside, too. Knew the knocks life had dealt her without scarring her warm heart and her giving nature. Tom hadn’t been long out of treatment when he’d met her. He’d been sitting, nursing a Coke at a company Christmas party, when she’d zeroed in on his loneliness and paused in serving drinks to speak with him.
“Can I get you something?” she’d asked, a tray of empty glasses on her hip. Her warm brown eyes took in his hair and skimmed his face.
“Not unless you have a time machine that’ll end this party quicker.”
“Sorry, I just served the last one.” She smiled. “Not having a good time?”
“Oh, it’s okay. It’s just that... ”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Nearly all the employees had brought a spouse. Those who hadn’t were already well on their way to being drunk and disorderly.
After that Tom had visited with his boss and his wife for a half hour or so, and the next time he saw the little waitress, she brought him a fresh Coke. “Worked here long?”
“A couple of years. Em is a close friend of mine.”
“Em’s the owner?”
She nodded. “I tend bar, but tonight I’m filling in for one of the girls.” She stuck her free hand out. “I’m Cedra.”
“Buzz.”
“Nice to meet ya, Buzz.”
“You involved, Cedra?”
She shook her head and her silver earrings swung.
“Want to grab a sandwich with me later?”
“I can’t leave till one.”
“I’ll wait.”
Her lips had turned up at his words and she’d given him a thoughtful look. “You’re on, Buzz.”
Meeting Cedra had been worth the wait. Knowing her would have been worth any wait.
He didn’t want recovering his memory to cause problems with anyone, not his family, and not the woman he thought he’d fallen in love with.
School had started that week and the boys were full of tales about kids and teachers and pranks on the school bus. Jori had joined a soccer team, so the family was practicing with him in the side yard.
Tom maneuvered getting on the same team as Cedra, and used every opportunity to touch her, stooping as low as bumping into her and then catching her.
“Buzz, be careful of your arm,” she said, laughing.
“M
y arm’s fine,” he declared, tightening it around her to show her just how fine. “Check out these biceps.”
Her eyes widened. “Buzz... ”
“Let’s go for a ride tonight,” he said so the others couldn’t hear.
She blinked.
“All right?”
She gave him a curious look, but she agreed with a nod. “Yeah. All right.”
Dan and Lorrie put the kids to bed and Tom saw that Gil was settled in the family room. “Cedra and I are going into town. Don’t wait up.”
Outside, Tom motioned for Cedra to hand him the keys to her car, got in and rolled down the windows. She climbed in beside him and fastened her seat belt.
She crossed her bare legs, and Tom forced his attention to the road. Fireflies danced in the tall grass along the sides.
“Buzz, you’re speeding.”
“Uh-huh.” The wind tore through his hair and he glanced over to see her short locks in charming disarray. She’d changed into fresh clothes after their soccer game, and wore a short pair of pink-and-white-striped shorts and a barely there pink top with a formfitting little sport-bra-thing underneath. The effect was as appealing as peppermint candy to a hungry man with a sweet tooth.
She slid one of her Keith Urban CDs in the player and leaned back in the seat, seductively tapping her red nails on her bare knees.
Tom drove to the Lied Center and careened into a parking spot beneath a light pole. “Wait here a minute.”
He ran in and returned ten minutes later, then grabbed a bag he’d tossed in the back. He opened her door.
“What are you doing?”
“I have a surprise for you. Come on.”
Chapter Eleven
With a curious lift of her brows, Cedra swung her legs around and got out. He led her along the well-lit walkway, into the tile-floored lobby, past the registration desk and down a corridor of hotel rooms. The same enormous timbers that stood floor to ceiling in the high- ceilinged lobby stood beside each room’s door.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
They came to a set of stairs and Tom led her up and into another hallway. “You’ll see.”
“I smell a pool. Are we going to swim? I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Maybe later.”
“Buzz—”
He took her hand and pulled her forward, along the corridor, finally stopping to slide a key in a lock.
Cedra stepped inside and surveyed the nicely furnished hotel room. Tom dropped the bag on the floor and moved toward her.
She placed her hand against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He flattened his palm on her arm and ran it up to her shoulder.
“It looks like you brought me here with an ulterior motive.”
Tom slid his thumb under her top near the upper swell of her breast and savored the silky skin he’d been thinking about for days. “It does look like that, doesn’t it?"
Her dark eyes took on a sultry glow. “But you said it wouldn’t be fair.”
He delved his hand into her hair and lowered his face to hers.
“You said it wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” she objected, less than an inch from his lips.
His other hand slipped up the back of her shorts and discovered the satiny scrap of underclothing beneath. “I remember,” he said.
“That you said that?”
“No.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember the way you kiss.”
Her sultry, dark eyes widened. “You do?”
He pressed her against his thigh. “I remember your….”
“Oh-h-h... ” Her breath rushed out against his chin.
“And I remember how good it feels to make love with you.”
Her trembling eyelids drifted closed.
“I remember I love you.”
She opened her eyes and framed his cheeks, pushing his face from hers. “Are you just saying this because you know how badly I need to hear it?”
“No.”
“You really remember?”
“I do.”
“What, then?” she demanded, her voice catching. “Tell me what you remember.”
“We met when you worked the Christmas party at Em’s. We had a sandwich at Denny’s and we drank coffee until early in the morning. The next week I called you and we drove to Nashville for a day.”
She gaped at him in disbelief.
“The first time we slept together was at my place and you cried afterward,” he went on. “I thought I must have done something wrong, but you told me your past had been so messed up that you didn’t think you’d ever meet a man who would make you feel good about yourself.”
She cried then, just as she had that night. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. She held his face in both hands and kissed him hard. “You remember! You really remember!”
Tom inched her top up until she helped him pull it over her head, and then unfastened her shorts and she kicked them away, standing in her tiny top and bikini. She crossed her arms, elbows pointing at him and tugged the sport bra over her head.
“You have too many clothes on,” she said, her voice a husky promise.
Tom took care of the problem in a heartbeat while she stripped the spread from the bed and knelt in the middle.
“I’ve missed you, Cedra.” He joined her, running his fingers over her skin.
“I’ve missed you.” She rose on her knees and he joined her, their bodies touching in an arousing first taste of the pleasure to come.
He kissed her, remembering why he loved her, why she’d become the woman he needed and wanted. He kissed her, knowing he had to say the next words before anything else passed between them. “I want to marry you.”
Her breath fanned his lips. Her heart thudded against his chest. She tightened her fingers on his shoulder.
“Cedra?”
“Yes.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
And like the first time, she cried afterward.
Cedra’s bed hadn’t been slept in, Lorrie noted when she dressed Autumn that morning. Usually, they tiptoed around, letting her sleep, but today Lorrie took extra time with Autumn’s hair and they giggled over silly girl things. Either Cedra hadn’t come back last night or she’d gotten up awfully early, and Lorrie highly doubted the latter.
“Where’s Uncle Buzz?” Jori asked at breakfast.
“He must have gotten up early this morning,” Dan said. He and Lorrie exchanged a glance that included Gil.
“This crap doesn’t even melt into my toast,” the old man complained, as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Get over it, Dad,” Dan said in exasperation. He slammed the butter dish on the table. “There. Eat that if you want to. Clog up those arteries you just got cleared out. Have another heart attack. It’s your body and it’s your life.”
Dan stomped out the door.
The children looked at their mother. “Get rolling, boys,” she said. “The bus will be on our road in three minutes. Grab your bags."
Gil looked up. “I was just making conversation.”
Lorrie waved her sons out the door and returned to the table with a cup of coffee. Autumn finished her cereal and skipped off to watch her morning cartoon.
“It’s hard for him to hear how unhappy you are with your diet. And we know you’re frustrated that you can’t do as much as before, but there are still plenty of things you can do.”
She didn’t think he’d answer. He wasn’t one to admit his feelings or talk things out.
“Like what?” he finally asked.
“Spend time with the kids. Tell them your stories about your parents, about the grandmother they never knew. Grandparents give children a sense of family and belonging. You can share things with them that no one else can.”
“I taught that husband of yours everything I know about growing apples.”
“I know you did.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And he studies, too,” he went on. “That’s how he got interested in that fancy hybrid stuff he works on with the university. He’s a smart boy.”
Lorrie had to smile at his reference to Dan as a boy. “Well, you gave him his love for the orchards,” she said. “Maybe one of our kids will love them, too."
“I hoped Thad would,” he said, the past tense the first she’d heard him admit that maybe it wouldn’t happen.
“It might not be Thad.” Lorrie took a sip from her cup. “Maybe it’ll be Bram.” She smiled. “Or Autumn.”
“Maybe I want to live long enough to see that,” he said and took a bite of his now-cold toast with the unmelted, pale spread.
Lorrie grinned. Too bad Dan hadn’t stuck around. She couldn’t wait to tell him about this conversation. He wouldn’t believe it.
“We won’t have to do that too many more times. A few more weeks and we can get the pool ready for winter.” Dan had come up from the barns and found Lorraine cleaning the pool in her suit and a pair of shorts. Dan observed the wavy white distortion of her legs and feet through the water and watched her sweep the vacuum attachment across the bottom of the pool.
“What do you think Tom and Cedra are doing?” she asked.
“Probably doing the wild thing and not giving a moment’s thought to calling us.” He perched on the deck, slipped off his boots and socks, rolled up the legs of his jeans, and stuck his feet in.
“Do you really think so?” she asked. “Tom doesn’t even remember who she is.”
“So you think he’s changed? From what I remember, he doesn’t have a real big conscience in that department.”
She didn’t look him in the eye and a blush tinged her cheeks. Dan hadn’t meant to embarrass her. He hadn’t even been referring to her.
“And she’s crazy about him,” he went on to cover his blunder. “How long could he resist?”
Lorraine unhooked the vacuum hose and wand, laid them on the deck and waded to where he sat. “Think she’s sexy?”
A Husband By Any Other Name Page 15