The Trophy Wife

by Sandra Steffen

  Homesickness washed over her. She wanted to follow that taxicab, to call out to her big sister. Amber, come back. Don't leave me. Please.

  But Emily couldn't do that. Amber didn't know she was here. Only Rand knew. Emily hoped. The fewer people who knew where she was, the better.

  She looked over her shoulder, studying every person on foot, in parked cars. Fear. She shook with it. It was so real, she could taste it. She wanted to go home. She needed to go home. That need welled up inside her, bringing tears to her eyes. Dashing them away, she prayed it would all be over soon.

  Emily had the world's best reason to be in Mississippi. But what was Amber doing here? Driving great distances made her sick; flying did her in.

  Peering into the distance where that taxicab had been, Emily forced her heart back into its rightful place in her chest, and wet her dry lips. She was so tired of running, so tired of being scared. She was twenty years old, far too young to feel so weary.

  The past year had been a nightmare. But in reality, the nightmare had begun ten years ago, when she and her mother, the real Meredith Colton, had been in a car accident. Nothing had been truly right since.

  For ten long years, Emily had tried to make sense of a hazy, out-of-focus image of her good mother being replaced by an evil one. And now, finally, it was all beginning to become clear, for recently, Emily's oldest brother, Rand, had sent word to her in the little town in Montana, where she'd been hiding. It seemed the private investigator Rand had hired had finally found proof that Emily's dream of seeing two mothers at the accident scene hadn't been a hallucination. Emily's dear mother, Meredith, had an identical twin sister named Patsy Portman. Patsy was the evil twin in every sense of the word. Emily hadn't known she had an aunt. Rand hadn't, either. Emily didn't begin to understand why their mother hadn't told them of her twin sister's existence. She must have had good reason. Perhaps one day soon they would have answers, too.

  Patsy had caused that accident. Emily was sure of that much. Then she'd assumed Meredith's identity.

  Emily didn't know why Patsy would do something so horrible to her only sister, but at least the truth was finally close at hand. In her heart of hearts, Emily had always known that something had been gravely wrong with her mother since that accident. Now, Rand had discovered the whereabouts of the real Meredith Colton. Evidently, their poor mother was suffering from amnesia and had taken the name Louise Smith. Rand had already paid a visit to her therapist, Dr. Martha Wilkes. He'd wanted to take the situation by storm. Emily smiled, because that was the way of most of the men in the Colton clan.

  Dr. Wilkes had instructed Rand to go slowly and proceed with caution. Evidently, their mother had been having dreams for years. Sometimes they were so terrifying they brought on horrible headaches and setbacks in her treatment. Dr. Wilkes had told Rand that other times their mother dreamed of a faceless man and children calling her name. That dream always left their mother sad and lonely.

  Emily understood that sadness and loneliness.

  It was Dr. Wilkes's belief that the key to unlocking Meredith's memory lay in the hands of the red-haired little girl Meredith repeatedly dreamed of. Emily blinked back more tears. Her dear mother hadn't forgotten her, at least not in her heart where memories often burrowed, or in her dreams where they were relived.

  Although she hadn't been born a Colton, Emily understood Rand's desire to bring their mother home. Emily, too, yearned for the love of the mother none of them had seen in ten years. That yearning had driven Emily to flee Red River in the middle of the night, hitching a ride across six states. It was a dangerous way to travel, but the real danger lay in the possibility that Patsy might discover her whereabouts. That woman was evil. Even though the past year had been hell, and she feared for her life, Emily would do it all again for the opportunity to gaze into her mother's loving face once again.

  She stepped into the intersection and stuck out her thumb, only to pull it back again when an unsavory-looking man with dirty hair, a scraggly beard and grease-stained clothes slowed down. No matter how tired, or how anxious she was, she'd come too far to throw all caution to the wind now.

  Hungry, thirsty and bone weary, she drew a map of Jackson from the back pocket of her jeans. As near as she could tell, she was two miles from the place where she was to meet Rand. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the map back into her pocket and her hair beneath her baseball cap. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed across town.

  * * *

  "Martha tells me you're married?"

  Emily heard Rand's sigh all the way from her side of the small garden table. "Yes," he said, to the beautiful woman that neither of them could take their eyes off, and who obviously viewed them as strangers.

  Those first few moments when Emily, Rand and their mother had come face-to-face again after all these years had been awkward. Emily was tearful and frustrated. She'd fantasized about this reunion for years. In her daydreams, her beloved mother always instantly recognized her. She did not stare at her with a distant, troubled expression. Emily had wanted to throw herself into her mother's arms. Rand, who rarely showed any emotion, had cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. Their mother's eyes had remained dry.

  To her, they were strangers.

  No, Emily screamed inside her head. She and Rand were her children, and not her only two. Emily had come so far, had hoped for so much, yearned for so long. She wanted to cry. Dr. Martha Wilkes gave her head the barest shake, giving both Emily and Rand a stern look. She'd warned them that it might take a while for this woman she called Louise to remember.

  "My wife's name is Lucy." Rand shifted in his wicker chair, clenched and unclenched his fingers.

  Meredith and Joe Colton's firstborn, Rand was an overachiever. As an attorney, he was accustomed to taking charge, being in control, getting things done. Emily thought this sitting back and waiting must be killing him. She understood his frustration and his disappointment. Rand looked so much like his father. She'd been sure their mother would take one look at him and remember everything.

  "A pretty name," Meredith—Emily refused to think of her as Louise—said.

  "She's incredible," Rand said. "I'd love the two of you to meet. Some time. Someday. That is…" Again, he tugged at his collar. "When you're ready. When everything finally gets back to normal."

  Emily could have kissed her big brother for saying "when," and not "if."

  Meredith's gaze flickered around the table, alighting on each of them for but a moment. Her beautiful brown eyes were blank, fearful almost and somehow sad. Emily was beyond words. Luckily, Rand had his wits about him. "Lucy has a five-year-old son," he said in an obvious effort to keep the conversation going. "His name is Max. Wait until you meet him."

  There was something familiar about the way Meredith fingered a fold in her inexpensive, though lovely dress. There was gray in her hair now, and a few lines in her pretty face. She was no less beautiful than she'd ever been. And inside, she was the same woman who had taken one look at the toddler with the flyaway red hair, tattered dress and scraped knees, and loved her. From that day forward, Meredith had accepted Emily as her own.

  There had to be a way to reach her, to help her remember.

  "Rand is in the process of adopting Max, Mom," Emily said. "The way you and Dad adopted me."

  Meredith's gaze caught on Emily, studying her face, as if searching for a hint of something she might remember. Birds twittered in the small, lush garden. Bees buzzed around a fence covered with honeysuckle in full bloom near the back of the property. Without taking her eyes off her mom, Emily said, "This garden reminds me of how the one at home in Prosperino used to look when you were tending it."

  It was Dr. Wilkes who said, "That would explain why you've always been so drawn to plants more native to California than Mississippi, Louise."

  Meredith nodded. "I've dreamed of a garden, lush and large, and of people, faceless for the most part, and voices and laughter. And I've always suspected that the s
ound I heard in the background was the ocean." She put a hand to her forehead, as if her head was beginning to throb.

  Martha Wilkes reached over. "Don't try to force it, Louise. It'll come back to you when you're ready. It might return one memory at a time, or it could return in one fell swoop."

  Meredith wavered a small smile at her therapist. Emily knew she would be forever grateful to the lovely, dark-skinned woman for the care she bestowed on her mother.

  "All these years," her mother said in a voice so quiet both Emily and Rand had to lean forward to hear, "I've been terrified my memory would never return. Sometimes I was almost as afraid it would, because I was pretty sure I wouldn't like the woman the clinic said I was. But I'm not her."

  She cringed at the shooting pain in her head.

  "Would you like to lie down?" Dr. Wilkes asked.

  Meredith blinked. Laying both hands flat on the table, she said, "No. What I'd like to do is serve tea." She glanced around, as if suddenly shy. "Would either of you care for some?"

  Emily doubted that her mother understood why she and Rand both grinned suddenly. Rand was strictly a coffee drinker, strong and black. Normally, Emily preferred cola.

  Both said, "I would love some tea."

  Their mother hadn't changed. She was still kind, warm, welcoming. And she still served tea this time of the afternoon.

  Emily and Rand gazed longingly at her until she disappeared inside her little house. The moment she was out of hearing range, Rand began firing questions at Dr. Wilkes.

  "Is there anything wrong with her besides her loss of memory?"

  Before Martha could answer, Emily said, "She seems frail."

  "She gets headaches, oftentimes severe. She may seem fragile, but I've witnessed her strength time and time again."

  Rand nodded. "A weaker woman would have given up."

  Emily said, "I always knew that if Mom was alive, she would fight to find her way back to us."

  Martha nodded sagely.

  "I understand how Patsy could have caused that car accident, then switched places with Mother," Rand said. "But how did Mom come to live here?"

  Martha Wilkes looked at Rand with unblinking eyes so brown they appeared black. "According to the report I received from the private investigator you hired, Louise—or should I say Meredith, your mother—had somehow turned up at a clinic in Monterey. She was suffering from amnesia, but her driver's license said her name was Patricia Portman. Patsy Portman was a former patient of theirs. Your mother spent six months there. Knowledge of her supposed mental disability and her prison record must have been a horrible blow to her self-esteem. All this time, her therapists, myself included, have believed she was suffering from multiple personality disorder. Your Patsy fooled us all."

  Rand jerked to his feet and paced to an arbor covered with roses. Patsy Portman was his aunt, but he hated her with a ferocity that staggered even him. "The thought of my mother…" he had to clear his throat before he could continue "The thought of her believing those morbid lies all these years, and living here, so far from the people she loved and who love her, turns my stomach."

  "I can see that."

  The straightforward reply reminded Rand that Dr. Wilkes was a very talented therapist. She was still their best bet in finding the fragile string and strumming it in a manner that would bring Meredith's memory back.

  He glanced around him, ran a hand through his dark hair. "I still can't believe how much this yard looks like the gardens at Hacienda de Alegria. It's amazing when you think about it. And fitting. Look at what she made out of nothing. She may not remember us, but inside she's the same person she always was. There has to be a way to trigger her memory."

  Emily remained quiet, listening, thinking. Wondering. Without conscious thought, she jumped to her feet and started for the house.

  "Where are you going?"

  She stopped suddenly. Glancing over her shoulder at the beautiful woman with smooth black skin and short, cropped hair, she turned slowly and said, "I always helped Mom make tea."

  The therapist started to shake her head slowly.

  Holding up one hand, Emily said, "I won't do or say anything to upset her. I promise."

  She glanced to Rand. Before he opened his mouth, Dr. Wilkes said, "I'm on to you, girl. You want your brother to distract me so you can make a run for it. Go ahead. Help your mother. But remember, I'm holding you to that promise."

  Emily twirled around again, the simple summer dress she'd changed into in Rand's hotel room tangling around her legs. Behind her, she heard her brother say, "When this is over, we're taking you out on the town."

  Dr. Wilkes said, "I can't remember the last time I brushed the dust off my high heels and went out on the town."

  "Well, get out your dusting cloth, because when Mom finally goes home, my father is going to want to throw a party. And he'll want you and your husband to attend."

  Martha didn't bother telling this sharp young attorney that she'd never taken the time for things like husbands or flights to California. She hadn't even dated since she was much, much younger. Now she was forty-five, and her biological clock had stopped ticking. She hoped she was never sorry.

  The door closed behind Emily. Beyond the window, Martha could see Louise—no, her name was Meredith—moving about her kitchen. Her children wanted to take her home. And sooner or later, she would go. And Martha would move on to try to help her next patient.

  This was the life she'd chosen. And she wasn't sorry.

  "Where are you going?" Rand asked.

  Martha turned in nearly the same place Emily had moments earlier. Smiling warmly, Martha said, "Let's go see if your mother and sister need any help with that tea, shall we?"

  * * *

  "Mama?"

  Louise—or Meredith, or…Lord, she didn't even know what to call herself anymore—looked up from the jar where she stored her tea bags. The sight of the lovely, red-haired young woman standing in the doorway took her breath away. Or had being called "Mama" done that?

  "Yes?"

  Emily moved closer slowly, shyly. "I see green is still your favorite color."

  Meredith looked at the green curtains she'd made herself and at the moss green walls she'd painted her kitchen. Green was her favorite color now. She hadn't known it was always the case. Motioning to the girl's dark green dress, she said, "Is it your favorite color, too?"

  Emily shook her head sadly. "I like it, but my favorite is blue. Amber loves yellow, and Sophie likes red." Steadily moving closer, she said, "I thought you might like some help. Where do you keep the tray?"

  "In this cabinet." Gesturing to a low shelf, Meredith leaned down. But Emily beat her there, going blithely to her haunches.

  A sense of déjà vu washed over Meredith. She straightened, her heart in her throat. She didn't know why she reached a hand to gently touch a lock of Emily's hair. The young woman tilted her face up, her blue eyes delving Meredith's. There was moisture in those eyes as she reached for Meredith's hand. "Oh, Mama, don't you remember me at all?"

  Meredith was rocked by a powerful wave of emotion. It was more than a flashback. It was as if some vital electric link between her conscious mind and her dormant memory had been jump-started and was pushing outward, like a seed coming to life.

  Staring deeply into Emily's face from this angle, she caught a glimpse of the red-haired little girl who had haunted her dreams and had given her a reason to go on. Tears coursed down Meredith's face as she clasped Emily's hand and drew her to her feet. "Yes, I do remember you…Sparrow."

  For the first time in ten long, lonely years, Emily flung herself into her mother's arms. "Oh, Mama, I've missed you so!"

  A movement in the doorway drew Meredith's gaze. As if seeing the dark-haired young man for the first time, she whispered, "Joe?"

  She staggered, and Rand and Martha rushed forward.

  The tea kettle whistled. Meredith covered her ears and closed her eyes. In a daze, she felt herself being lowered into a kitchen cha
ir. When she was certain she wouldn't faint, she opened her eyes. Slowly, she reached a hand to her firstborn son.

  "Of course, you couldn't be Joe. You're Rand, aren't you?"

  There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Emily sobbed openly. Rand's eyes swam. Martha sniffled, although she would probably never admit it out loud. Bristling, she bustled to the stove and lifted the tea kettle off the burner.

  The horrendous whistling stopped.

  In the silence that ensued, the enormity of the love in Meredith's heart made her head swim all over again. "I'm afraid I need to lie down."

  Three people were suddenly pulling her to her feet. Helping. Getting in the way. Rand swung his mother into his arms. "Emily, get the door. Martha, which way to her room?"

  "Rand, put me down this instant, do you hear me?"

  Everybody stopped in their tracks. Meredith smiled through her tears. "I mean it, young man."

  Rand did as his mother instructed.

  "Martha," Meredith said, her voice seeming to come from miles away in her own ears, "would you help me to my room? Emily, you can make the tea." She paused. "You never liked tea. Rand, you, either."

  "Lie down, Mama," Emily said. "Rand and I will learn to like tea while you rest."

  Meredith glanced behind her. Two of those faceless people she'd been dreaming about were no longer faceless. Her memory was still hazy, and she felt as if a light breeze might blow her off her feet, but she didn't want to close her eyes for fear that they would disappear. "You won't leave?"

  Emily bit her lip and smiled through her tears as she shook her head. A sense of joy that Meredith had only dreamed existed flowed into her. So much didn't make sense, but now she needed to rest her body and her mind so she could take it all in.

  "Come along," Martha said, taking Meredith's arm.

  Moments before turning away and heading into the narrow hall that led to her bedroom, Meredith heard Rand say, "Just try to get rid of us, Mom. I dare you."

  * * *