A Thanksgiving To Remember

by Margaret Watson

  “I’d love to. I think I’ll go crazy if I stay in this apartment for another minute.”

  The reserve faded, replaced by warmth. “I understand, I think. You assume that your belongings should help you figure out who you are, but it’s just frustrating you. Right?”

  “Absolutely. And the harder I try, the less I remember.”

  She thawed even more and laid a hand on his arm. “Dr. Mellon warned you about that, didn’t she? I know she told you not to try and force it.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been good at following orders,” he said, then froze. “There, I did it again. I have no idea where that came from.”

  “Another small piece of the puzzle,” she said lightly.

  “And another suspicious one.” His voice was grim. “Add that to the fact that I thought I was a good liar, and it’s not a pretty picture that’s emerging.”

  Tina shook her head. “There are a lot of people who aren’t good at following orders, and most of them aren’t criminals.” She watched him for a moment, and he thought her expression softened. He wondered if she was even aware of it. “Get your coat,” she finally said. “You can pick out some healthy food to eat.”

  Tina relaxed as Tom turned away to find a jacket. She’d told herself all day to stay away from him. After last night, spending time with Tom would be asking for trouble. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him alone in that barren, lifeless apartment. And when she’d left to do her errands, she’d found herself turning into the parking lot without ever consciously making the decision to do so.

  It didn’t mean anything, she told herself firmly. She was just trying to be a good neighbor. The way his kiss had made her feel had nothing to do with it. She’d already decided that she would forget about it and move on.

  Except that she hadn’t been able to forget about it. Tom had haunted her dreams the night before and shadowed her thoughts since she’d woken up. And she hadn’t been able to suppress the excitement that built inside her as she’d walked up to his door.

  “I’m ready,” he said with a smile, and her heart lurched.

  “Let’s go, then,” she said lightly. Settle down, she told herself. Don’t be a fool. She knew she couldn’t allow herself to get involved with Tom. He was everything she had warned herself against for far too long.

  But he was also everything she had secretly dreamed of for even longer. And that frightened her even more than the kiss.

  “On your day off, I thought you would do something more exciting than go to the grocery store,” Tom said, as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  She relaxed a little bit. Maybe he wasn’t going to say anything about last night. “I have to eat,” she said lightly. “And I want to stop by a bookstore later.”

  He turned to her, an arrested expression on his face. “Would you mind if I came along?”

  “To the bookstore? Of course not.” She glanced over at him, and the expression on his face made her chest tighten. “Did you remember something?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “No. But I have this strange feeling that I want to go to a bookstore.”

  “Do you want to go there right now?”

  “I don’t want to disrupt your schedule.”

  Tina laughed and slowed down to make a turn. “Trust me, I’ll take any excuse to go to a bookstore.”

  “I do trust you,” he said quietly. “Completely.”

  The smile faded from Tina’s face. “You shouldn’t do that,” she answered. “You really know nothing about me.”

  “I think I know everything I need to know. You’re kind, you’re generous to a fault, and you’re a warm, loving woman.”

  His words were small darts that embedded themselves in her heart. She shook her head. “Believe me, Tom, there’s a lot more to me than that.”

  “Then fill me in. Tell me what I’m missing.”

  Tina saw the bookstore and pulled into the parking lot, infinitely grateful for the distraction. “It’s a long, boring tale, and there are a lot more interesting stories in here,” she said, trying to make her voice light and teasing. “Let’s go find some of them.”

  She felt him watching her as she parked the car, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she jumped out of the car and came around to open his door. He got out of the car a lot more easily this morning.

  They started heading for the store, and Tom said quietly, “I want to know everything about you, Tina. Both what’s on the surface and what’s underneath.”

  “I don’t want to bore you with my life story,” she said as she pulled open the door.

  “Believe me, I won’t be bored. That’s the last word I would associate with you.”

  She knew he was watching her, but she didn’t dare look at him. She shoved her hands into her pockets and looked around the large bookstore instead. “Here we are. What do you want to look for?”

  Tom continued to stare at her for another moment, then looked away. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have no idea, really. But when you said bookstore, it felt like a place I wanted to go.”

  Hoping she could maintain her composure, she finally looked at him. “You tell me what you want to do. Do you want me to stay with you? Do you want to roam around the store by yourself?”

  But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring around the store, an arrested expression on his face. “Why don’t you go ahead and get what you came for? I’ll look around for a while by myself.”

  “Fine. I’ll look for you when I’m finished.”

  Tom wandered off, but instead of looking at the romance and mystery sections of the store, as she had planned, she watched him move through the aisles. Every once in a while he stopped to pick up a book. He would look at it for a few moments, then replace it on the shelf.

  Finally, he came to a stop in front of a tall bookcase. He reached out, picked up another book and stood reading it, apparently absorbed in the story, for a long time. Tina looked up to see what section it was, and her heart sank.

  It was the true crime section.

  Her hands shook as she fumbled with some books in the mystery section. She grabbed a few more selections from the romance shelves, then went to pay for her books. When she had finished, she looked for Tom. He was still in the true crime section of the store.

  “Did you find what you wanted?” she asked as she walked up to him.

  He looked up with a start. “I’m not sure. I got this far and found this book, and I haven’t been able to put it down.”

  “A high recommendation,” she said lightly. “Are you going to buy it?”

  He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. “I think so. But I’m still not sure why I wanted to come here.”

  “Maybe it’s as simple as the fact that you like to read.”

  “Maybe so.” He didn’t look like he believed that. “Do you mind if I look around a little more?”

  “Of course not.” She smiled, although it was an effort. “I never complain about spending time in a bookstore.”

  They walked around for a while longer, then Tom stopped and shook his head. “I have no idea why I wanted to come here. But it seemed important at the time.”

  “You found a book,” she said, nodding at the volume under his arm. “Maybe that’s all it was.”

  “I have several books in my room.”

  “Maybe you’ve read them already.”

  “How would I know?” He gave her a grim smile. “I guess that’s one of the positive things about amnesia. You can read your whole library again, and enjoy it just as much the second time around.”

  “I like a man who looks at the positive side of things,” she said lightly, her fear for him receding. His choice of reading material didn’t seem as important as the pain he was suffering. So what if he liked to read true crime books? There were a lot of other people who enjoyed them, too. And they weren’t criminals, either.

  He bought his book with one of the credit cards in his wallet, and they walked out of the s
tore. “Why do you think I went straight to the true crime section?” he asked.

  “Because you like to read that type of book,” she answered promptly. “Just like I go to the romance and mystery sections.”

  His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “I should have figured you’d say that. Of course you aren’t going to tell me it’s because I’m a criminal and want to read about my exploits.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice was firm. “You’re clearly a reader and you simply wanted a book. Don’t make more of it than that.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  They headed for the grocery store, talking about the town of Grand Springs. Tina was careful to avoid the topic of his choice of reading material, and was even more careful not to say anything about the night before. When they had finished shopping, she took him back to his apartment and helped him carry his groceries into the tiny kitchen.

  He stood back and looked at the groceries lining the counter. “I’m never going to be able to eat all of this,” he said. He turned to her. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight and help me out?”

  Tina told herself to say no. Tom was getting better. He was able to manage on his own. It was time to back away.

  But she nodded and said, “I’d love to.”

  Chapter 7

  Tina gripped the steering wheel as she drove toward Tom’s apartment that night. What had she been thinking?

  It was the same question she’d been asking herself all day. After last night, she needed to stay away from Tom. He tempted her far too much. And he was the last man she should get involved with.

  If she got involved with anyone, it would be someone safe. Someone she had known for a long time, someone she knew everything about. Someone who would never surprise her.

  Some nice, dull man who would bore her to tears within a month, a small voice inside her said.

  Boring was good, she told herself firmly. Boring was safe. And Tom was anything but boring and safe.

  Which was why she needed to stay away from him. She would never get involved with a man who reminded her even a little bit of her father.

  Not that Tom was anything like her father. She didn’t think Tom would hurt her, and he was certainly not an alcoholic. But Tom was dangerous in his own way. She suspected that she wouldn’t be able to predict everything he would ever say or do. And she wouldn’t be able to control him.

  It hadn’t been smart to accept his dinner invitation.

  But he had seemed so alone that morning when she walked into his apartment. So lost in a strange town. She couldn’t force herself to abandon him.

  It would be easier to be at his apartment, she told herself. She would be less vulnerable there. There would be no memories to haunt her, no ghosts lingering in the air. She wouldn’t be tempted to break down and tell him her life story. And she could leave whenever she felt like it.

  By the time she pulled into his parking lot, she felt much better. Filled with confidence, she walked up to his door and knocked. But when he opened the door and smiled at her, her confidence vanished in a flash. Her breath whooshed out and her heart slammed against her chest. She swallowed once, hard, before she walked in.

  He no longer looked like a hospital patient. In fact, he looked like the picture of health. His pallor was gone and there was a spring in his step. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned at her, and a dimple flashed briefly in his right cheek. “Come in,” he said. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for ages, and I’m looking for an excuse to put my feet up.”

  When she walked into the apartment, she smelled the heavenly scent of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. “It smells wonderful in here,” she said.

  His smile dimmed. “I wish I could say it was Mother Flynt’s secret recipe, but I’m afraid I just threw it together.”

  “I’m sure it will taste fine.” She stood and looked around. Even the apartment seemed to have lost some of its desolate air. “Something is different in here.”

  He came to stand beside her. “I walked across the street to that discount store and bought a few cheap pictures. At least the walls don’t look so bare now.”

  “I like it,” she said, turning to him. “It feels more like a home.”

  “I figured I might be here for a while.” He searched her face, but didn’t say anything more. “Would you like a glass of wine, or a beer?”

  “No thank you,” she said. “I don’t drink.”

  “I don’t either right now,” he said, turning back to the stove. “There were some beers in the refrigerator, but I don’t want to muddle my brain any more than it already is.”

  “What can I do to help?” she said, moving into the tiny kitchen. It brought her disturbingly close to Tom, but it would have been churlish not to offer.

  “Why don’t you slice the bread?” he said, nodding toward the loaf of French bread he’d purchased earlier. “Everything else is just about ready.”

  Her arm bumped into him occasionally as she worked, and every time she pulled away with a jerk and muttered an apology. She felt her face flushing and heat swept up from her toes, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. When she found herself wishing that Tom would move closer, she stopped slicing the bread and stepped abruptly out of the small kitchen.

  “That should be enough bread,” she said.

  Tom nodded. “Why don’t you put it on the table?” he said without looking at her. “I’ll get everything else.”

  The width of the table separated them at dinner, and Tina relaxed a little. Again they talked about Grand Springs, and Tom encouraged her to talk about her life here. He said it would make it easier for him to visualize the town.

  After dinner, they moved to the couch. Tina carefully sat at the far end, and watched as Tom sat down in the middle. She let out the breath she’d been holding. He was far enough away that it would be hard for them to touch accidentally.

  “How long have you been a nurse?” he asked, leaning back against the cushions.

  “For about four years now,” she said, some of her tension disappearing. This was a safe conversational topic.

  “And you like it?”

  “I love it,” she said simply. “It’s a wonderful job.”

  “You’re very lucky,” Tom said quietly. “You’re fortunate to love what you do.”

  “I know.”

  There was silence for a while, but it was a comfortable silence, and Tina felt herself relaxing even more. Then Tom said, “Do you want to talk about your mother?”

  Tina was surprised by the question, but was even more surprised to find that she did want to talk about her. “Why do you think I would?”

  He shrugged. “You take care of people every day, but I wondered if there was anyone to take care of you. You live alone, you don’t have any siblings, so you probably haven’t had anyone to talk to about your mother.”

  “That’s very perceptive of you.”

  He took her hand. “You’ve done a lot for me, Tina. It makes me wonder who takes care of you.”

  Tears thickened in the back of her eyes. “You know, if someone had asked me this morning if I wanted to talk about my mother, I would have told them no. But I want to tell you about her.”

  He turned to face her on the couch, holding onto her hand. “I want to listen.”

  She spoke slowly at first, telling him how close she had been to her mother. “It was just the two of us,” she said. “We’ve always been closer than most mothers and daughters. I grew up relying on her.”

  “Especially after your father died, I imagine.”

  “It was just the two of us even before he died.” She clamped her lips together, appalled that that had slipped out. She wouldn’t discuss her father with Tom.

  “She got sick about three years ago. She had breast cancer, and it was very aggressive. She found it pretty early, but it had already spread.” She stopped speaking, trying to compose herself. “I began working the evening shift about a year and a half
ago. That way I could be with her during the day, and we had a nurse in to stay with her while I worked. She mostly slept during the afternoon and evening, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, moving closer and wrapping an arm around her. “I wish I had known you then.”

  She found herself wishing that he had, too. The weight of his arm on her shoulders was solid and comforting. It felt wonderful to tell him about her mother. “It was hard. She was always cheerful, and that made it even worse. Right before she died, I took a leave of absence from work. I’ll always be grateful to the hospital for being so understanding.”

  “And you’ve had to get over her death on your own.”

  “I love my job,” she said. “That helped.”

  She didn’t tell him that she would have done anything for her mother. Her mother had protected her from her father when she was younger. It had forged an unbreakable bond between them.

  “But there was no one to hold you,” he murmured, and he reached out and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “No one to comfort you. I’m sorry about that.”

  She leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, for the solid feel of his chest against hers. He held her gently and smoothed his hand down her hair. She hadn’t known how comforting a man’s arms could be.

  Tom’s hand moved down her back, soothing and reassuring. But Tina felt his fingers trembling, then realized that Tom’s muscles were tense against hers. She leaned back to ask him why, but the words died in her throat. Even though she had very little experience with men, she had no trouble reading the expression in his eyes.

  It was undiluted desire, hot and potent. When he met her gaze, his eyes darkened to a deep brown.

  “Tina,” he whispered.

  Instead of pulling away, she stared at him. Her heart pounded in her chest and thundered in her ears. She was certain he could hear it, certain that he knew how he was affecting her.

  She ignored the little frisson of fear that trembled through her. She trusted Tom. He wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that much, at least.

  “Aren’t you going to move away?” he asked.

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No,” she said, in a voice she barely recognized as her own. She might be making a huge mistake, but she didn’t want to move away from Tom. She wanted to feel his hands on her, to feel his mouth on her lips again.