by Kelly Moore
“It was all my fault.” He says the words like he’s been holding them in for years and they’ve finally been released.
“How was the wreck your fault or the fact that you assumed I…she was dead?” Something buried inside me wants to comfort him so badly.
“You talked yourself out of going the night before. Emmalyn was only an infant, and you weren’t ready to leave her. I convinced you to go.” He’s trying to brush his tears away as fast as they are falling, but he’s failing miserably as they slide onto the front of his shirt.
There it is. The guilt this man has been holding on to all these years. His tears turn into sobs, and I draw him into my arms. I’m caught up in the depths of his emotions and tears sting my eyes. I don’t know what to think. How is any of this possible, that I find my life after all these years from a man who wrote me letters from the other side of the country? How could I forget a love like this or a daughter? My head starts to throb trying to recall anything. There’s nothing, not the first memory, but I feel something that I shouldn’t for this man. Maybe in a way, the feeling is a memory like the music was to me. My mind can’t grasp anything else from it. It is simply not possible.
How do I walk out of his world again, back to my life? The only life I know. His sobs finally slow and he moves out of my arms.
Chapter 10
Keegan
My world is spinning on its axis. I know without a shadow of a doubt that this woman sitting next to me is my wife. I keep wanting to reach out and touch her to make sure she isn’t a ghost and that I haven’t really lost my mind. If I were her, I’d want to run, but I need to convince her to stay.
I clear my throat, regaining my composure. “I’m sorry I broke down, but God have I missed you. I know this has to be completely overwhelming. But, I know you are my wife because I see it in the depths of your dark eyes.”
She abruptly stands, interrupting my words. “This is all too much.” She rubs her temples and closes her eyes.
“You have a birthmark on the inner side of your right thigh. It’s in the shape of a heart,” I shout in a rush, trying to think of anything that might make her believe me.
Her eyes pop open, and she turns toward me but starts walking backward with her mouth gaping. She stumbles into the kitchen table. “What did you…say?” Her voice quakes.
I stand and slowly step toward her. “You have a heart-shaped birthmark. You used to tell me that it was put there just for me.” I lower my voice, trying not to scare her any more than I already have.
She shakes her head and tries to dart around me, but I move, blocking her path. I raise my palms in the air. “Look, you’ve admitted that you lost your memory twelve years ago. The same time I lost my wife. Why is it so hard for you to believe that you being her is a real possibility? How else would I know about your birthmark?”
“I never said I have a birthmark.” A deep line creases her brow.
I take one step closer. “Do you?” I want to reach down and touch it, but I’m sure I would get slapped.
She shakes her head no again, but she barely breathes out the word, “Yes.”
I take another step closer, and her hands cover her ears.
“Please, just go.” Her lip quivers. “I need time to take all of this in. I need to think through how I would not remember my husband and daughter.” Anger fills her voice now, but I’m not sure it’s directed at me.
“You were injured, you had no control over your amnesia.”
“Just leave.” Her body turns rigid, going into a defensive mode.
“I will go if you promise me you will not leave. Please say you won’t let go.” I will get on my knees and beg her if I have to.
“You mean, say I won’t go.” Her dark eyes dry with determination.
“No, I said what I meant. Please say you won’t let go. Of us,” I add.
She walks to the front door and opens it. The chilled air rushes inside, causing the flames in the fireplace to flicker. “I don’t know you other than your letters. That’s the only us, I remember.”
I grab my jacket and pull it on. “I remember everything, every moment of our lives together. The heartache of burying you. I won’t give up easily.” I step out into the cold.
“Keegan.”
I turn when she calls my name, hoping like hell she wants me to stay.
“I’m not asking you to give up, just give me some time.” She slowly shuts the door.
I get in my truck and crank up the engine, but I’m frozen in place. I don’t want to leave her. I’m afraid if I go, I’ll never see her again. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking. I know my regret, but for her to feel guilty over something she had no control over is crazy. I picture her waking up scared and alone after the accident. She must have gotten thrown from the car and rolled down the mountainside. No one thought to even look for her, myself included. She must have felt abandoned when no one was searching for her.
“Goddamn it!” My fists connect with the dashboard, making it rattle. I dig my phone out of my pocket. “What the hell am I going to tell Emmalyn?” I speed-dial, my dad.
“Hi, Son.”
“Dad, I need a favor. Something has come up, and I have to go out of town for a few days.”
“Like what kind of something?” He sounds suspicious.
“I have a lead on Wolfe’s sister, and I need to chase it down now before it’s lost.” I hate lying to him. “I told Emmalyn that I would take her away for a few days. Is there any way you could do something with her for me?”
“Yeah, but how long are you going to be gone?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I promise I will be back as soon as I can. Please explain it to Emmalyn. I don’t know if I will have phone service or not.”
“Okay, David. I’ll handle things on this end, but whatever trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, fix it.” He ends the call.
I knew he didn’t believe me, but at least he didn’t grill me on it. I turn off the engine and grab my bag I keep for emergencies in the cab of the truck. You never know when you might get stuck in the weather, so I keep essentials in a backpack. I have a blanket stored in the compartment under one of the seats. There is water, beef jerky, nuts, dried fruits, and a protein bar. The only other things that are always in my truck are a gun, a baseball cap, and my old guitar that Timber bought me the first year we were married. She taught me how to play, and I keep it with me at all times.
I lie my seat back to where I can still see the house and pull the blanket up over me. Just as I get comfortable, the front door of the cottage opens.
She zips her jacket up and marches to the driver’s side door. I turn the key enough to be able to roll down the window.
“Do you plan on sitting in my driveway all night?” Her brows are creased together.
“Technically, this is my driveway. I still own this house,” I say with a lopsided grin, trying to make light of the situation.
“Why would you have held on to it all these years?”
“You…my wife loved this house, but I needed help raising a baby, so I moved in with my parents. Emmalyn loves it there. I didn’t have the heart to take her away from it. I figured one day after she was grown, I’d come back here.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You can’t stay out here all night. You’ll freeze to death.”
“I’m not going anywhere if there is a possibility that I’ll never see you again.” My jaw is set.
“Suit yourself.” She stomps off in the snow.
I push the button to let the window back up and pull the blanket to my chin. I used to love her stubbornness; now it’s a pain in the ass. We would get into the biggest yelling matches and then spend hours having makeup sex. We were two stubborn people trying to make it work. We loved and fought fiercely together. I loved that about us. I’ve mellowed some through the years, but what I wouldn’t give to fight her then fuck her like crazy right about now. My desire for her hasn’t waned one bit. No other woman has ever ex
cited me like she does. I want nothing more than to hold her and make up for the years we’ve lost together.
A thought sears my brain, causing my head to ache. She doesn’t remember me. What if she never does? My stomach rolls loathing the idea. I need to find a way to make her remember and fall in love with me again. That gives me an idea. I reach behind me and grab my guitar. I pull on my baseball cap and zip my jacket just in case she doesn’t let me inside.
I hop out of the truck, taking my guitar with me. I throw the strap over my shoulder and knock on the door. I wait and knock again when she doesn’t answer. I see her peek outside from between the curtains and then close them together.
“Have it your way!” I yell as a cloud of white releases from my words. It is so frigid out, I know I’m going to regret this. I position myself in the middle of the yard, straight in line with the living room window. I strum a few times trying to get the right pitch.
I start singing “I Cross My Heart.” I sang this George Strait song to her on our wedding day. I sing every word until I get to the chorus.
She peeks through the curtains. I strum the cords and belt out the chorus.
The front door flies open, and she storms toward me with her coat on. “What do you think you’re doing?” For a split second, I see a hint of a smile.
“I’m serenading you.” I continue to strum the guitar.
“Well stop it. You’re scaring the deer.” She almost laughs.
“Would you like another song?” I switch tunes to “You’re beautiful.” She always loved James Blunt.
“You are persistent, aren’t you?” This time a full-fledged smile covers her face.
“I could sing to you some more.” I change tunes again, but she holds up her hand to stop me.
“Seriously, you are scaring the deer, but how long have you played?”
“You taught me. You bought me this guitar and taught me how to play.”
Her beautiful smile fades.
“I sang I Cross My Heart to you on our wedding day.” I change back to the tune.
“I…I don’t remember.” She blinks back tears.
“Do you remember this?” I reach down and grab a handful of snow and lob it at her, hitting her square in the chest. At first, she stares at me in disbelief. Then, a crooked grin plays on her face as she swiftly bends down and scoops up two handfuls of snow. They come flying at me at lightning speed before I can duck. Cold, icy snow flies into my mouth and eyes. I take a few steps over to my truck and rest my guitar on a tire. I sputter, getting the snow out of my mouth and then rub my eyes. I wipe my hand down the front of my hair and watch as little tiny flakes fall in front of me. I turn to look at her and her dark eyes grow wide.
I stalk toward her, and she takes off running to the back of the house. I chase after her, catching her as she skates around the corner of the house. I slip when I grab her and we both fall to the snowy ground with me on top. Her laughing stops when she realizes she’s pinned beneath me. Her eye color changes right in front of me from a deep black almost to an amber color, like a light is filling them. She licks her sensual lips and then bites down on her smile.
“You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful…” I sing softly. I can’t help myself; I dip down and lightly kiss her lips. Her eyes never leave mine and it tears at my heart. She would always keep her eyes open anytime we kissed. It freaked me out at first, then I found it such a turn-on that she wanted to watch what she did to me.
I kiss her again, this time opening my mouth. She doesn’t resist, and her tongue slips in for a taste. Then she jerks her head back like something shocked her. The next thing I know her hands are on my chest, pushing me off her.
Chapter 11
Shay
What the hell was that? For a split second, I wanted him. It’s a bond unlike any other I’ve ever felt with anyone. He’s utterly charming, that’s all. I brush the snow off my coat and out of my hair before I open the front door, but he stops me.
“Shay!” He comes up from behind me. “Please let me come in so we can talk.” He braces his arm on the doorframe.
“One hour, not a minute longer,” I say, and he grins like he just won a prize. It’s sexy and boyish at the same time. He reaches past me and opens the door for me.
“You build the fire. I’m going to go get a hot shower.”
I run up the stairs and hear him yell, “My hour doesn’t start until you are back down here.”
I strip out of my clothes and take my time in the hot spray of the water. My mind drifts. I don’t remember him, but something in me recalls the feel of him, his taste. When I kissed him back, it was like he reached inside and ignited a deep-seated desire that’s been hidden for years. If I can feel him, why can’t I remember him? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stick around to see if being here brings back memories. Perhaps being a million miles from where I belonged kept me from recalling who I am. If I really am Timber, then I owe it to him and his…my daughter to try to kick around the idea that I might really be her.
I wash the nape of my neck, trying to scrub my scar off like it will make me remember. I finish up before the water turns cold. Brushing my long, thick black hair, I weave it into a braid. I pull on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black turtleneck. I’m feeling much more enthusiastic about talking to him than I was a few hours ago.
As I tiptoe to the top of the stairs, I hear him strumming his guitar. He must have gone back outside to get it. He’s softly singing a really sad tune, but I can’t make out what it is.
I walk midway down, and I can clearly hear him singing “Life Ain’t Always Beautiful.” My breath hitches in my throat. Gary Allan is one of my favorite artists. I was in the studio with another musician the same day he was recording this song. The words struck a chord with me. “Life ain’t always beautiful, but I’ll be fine.” I’ve thought about the words to this song a million times, and now I’m hiding on the stairs, listening to a man that claims to be my husband sing and play the words to the song. If I were to ever believe in signs or fate, what have you, this would be the time.
He stops singing when he sees me at the bottom of the stairs. His brows that were creased with a deep sadness fill in when he gives me a sweet smile. He’s really very good looking. His broad shoulders straighten watching me check him out. It’s the first time that I’ve noticed that his chiseled face looks haggard. He looks down, running his hand through his mop of hair, then over the light stubble on his jawline. His full bottom lip is adorable. I touch my open lips recalling his taste.
He puts the guitar down and swaggers his muscular frame toward me. Reaching out with his left hand, he takes my hand and walks me to the couch to sit with him. He doesn’t release my hand. My gaze shifts to his ring finger. On it, is a tattoo.
“Was this your wedding band?” I run my finger over the top of the tattooed cross.
“No. I had this done a year after you died. People kept telling me it was time to move on, that I needed to take off my wedding ring. This was kind of a way to say, ‘go fuck yourselves.’ It was a way of keeping you with me, forever.” He turns his hand over and the black band going around his finger is the name Timber.
“What you went through must have been very difficult. I don’t remember losing someone that I loved like you loved…Timber.” I’m not ready to admit that I’m her.
His hand leaves mine, and he braces his head with it on the back of the couch. “When I had to walk through those church doors, my knees buckled. It was all so surreal up until that point. I couldn’t even breathe. My mom took Emmalyn out of my arms, and my dad steadied me. I made it through the service, but graveside, I lost it. I had wanted forever with you. My reality was that you weren’t coming home ever again. I kept thinking it was a bad dream and I’d wake up at any moment. When the casket was lowered down, it was like a bullet straight through my heart. I had been tangled up in you since the first day I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t fathom a life without you and how I would ever raise our daughter without
her mother.” He’s had to take breaks, swallowing back pain as he tells me his story.
He continues with a quivering smile. “Thank God for my parents. I fell into such a depression that I didn’t want to get out of bed. I’m ashamed to say, that there were days I couldn’t even look at our own daughter. Even as an infant, all I saw was you.” He continues after a deep chuckle. “My mom gave me a swift kick in the ass. She forced me to survive. She left me alone for two days to take care of Emmalyn by myself. She hasn’t left my sight since, except for when I went into the military. It was a difficult decision to make, but I needed to get away, and I had already committed to it. I wanted our daughter to be proud of me and see a man that was strong and focused. It forced me to grow up in ways that I had never imagined. I loved being in the service.” He rubs his thigh.
“Is that from the ambush with Wolfe?” I point at his leg.
“Yeah, I got off pretty easy in comparison. It’s taken some time to recover, but my military days are over.”
I instinctively reach over and place my hand on his thigh. I want to comfort him even if it’s only in a small way. “It still hurts you?”
His gaze is glued to my hand. “Some days are worse than others.” He picks my hand up off his thigh and laces our fingers together.
“You have to understand that I don’t have any of those memories. You talked about me being dead. You thought it was a nightmare; this feels like a dream to me. I need time to process what you are telling me and some proof.”
He turns his head away from me. “I guess I was hoping being here with me would make you remember.”
I turn his chin toward me. “I want to, but it’s not something I have control over.”