With This Ring

by Patricia Kay

  * * *

  Lark was disgusted with herself. She'd tried on at least six different outfits before finally deciding she'd wear her favorite black jeans and a long lacy tunic top in a soft shade of peach combined with her one indulgence of a pair of black patent Jimmy Choo stilettos and be damned with the whole thing. Who cared what she wore, anyway? Certainly, Justin wouldn't. Hell, no. She wasn't kidding herself he wanted to take her to dinner because he missed her company or anything. He just wanted, in Amy's absence, to be able to talk about her to someone who would listen.

  Lark felt like throwing something. Why had she said she'd go tonight? Why was she letting herself in for this misery? She was so fucking stupid! She could see the entire scenario now. All night Justin would slop and glop about Amy, and Lark would have to listen and smile and say appropriate gushy things back.

  Well, she'd be damned if she would. If he started in about how wonderful everything was, Lark might just say a few choice things, like he was a damned fool if he thought Amy really loved him the way a woman should love a man and that she would never love him that way.

  Lark continued to mutter and curse even as she picked up her perfume and gave herself four good squirts and put extra mascara on her eyelashes and brushed her cheekbones with a darker blush than she normally used and defiantly made up her lips in a dark lipstick that matched her outfit.

  Then she glared at herself in the mirror. Starkly unhappy eyes looked back at her. "I hate him," she said. "I don't know why I'm going tonight. I'm crazy."

  Seconds later, the doorbell rang.

  When she saw him standing on her doorstep—dark hair slicked back, blue eyes depthless and filled with warmth, smiling down at her—she knew exactly why she'd said she'd go. Because being with him, having his smile and his eyes and his warmth all to herself, even if only for a few hours, was worth all the pain and unhappiness she would feel when the hours were over.

  He gave a low whistle. "Wow. You look nice."

  "Well, gee," she said dryly, "don't act so surprised. I really do clean up well."

  He laughed and bent down to kiss her cheek. "I've missed you, smart mouth."

  "And whose fault is that?"

  "Mine. I know."

  "Good. Now that we've got the apology for your shameful neglect out of the way, let's go eat. I'm starving."

  The evening turned out to be both easier and harder than Lark had expected. It was easier in that Justin did not talk about Amy much except to say he hoped she had a good time in Washington. It was harder in that Lark realized all over again just what it was about Justin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.

  He was so damned nice. Why couldn't he be a horse's ass, like so many of the men she met? Why couldn't he be selfish and thoughtless and totally wrapped up in himself? Why did he have to be so honest and sincere and really sweet?

  He actually cared what she said. He asked her questions, and he listened to the answers, and his eyes didn't stray the way a person's did when they weren't really hearing you but thinking about what they were going to say next.

  And he laughed at her jokes. When she made one of her smart remarks, he grinned, and she knew he was amused and entertained, and that he liked being with her.

  And, oh, God, she loved being with him.

  She pretended, as the evening drew to a close, and they ate their flan and drank their coffee, that they were a couple. That when they left to go home, he would come inside, and they would go into her bedroom, and he would slowly undress her, and she would slowly undress him, and then they would make love.

  She knew it was stupid. She knew she was only hurting herself, but she couldn't seem to help it. The wanting and needing were too strong. Suddenly, she could no longer stand her feelings and the terrible emptiness in her heart. "I . . . I'll be back," she said, standing. "I'm going to the Ladies'."

  He smiled. "Okay."

  Once inside the restroom, Lark put her hands over her feverish face. She was shaking, as close to tears as she'd ever been. She knew she had to get herself under control before she went back out there. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was let Justin see how she felt about him. Wouldn't that be fucking wonderful?

  She finally managed to get herself calmed down. She splashed cold water on her face and repaired her makeup. Then she took several deep breaths.

  It had been a mistake to come tonight. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle being with him. Her emotions were too raw.

  But she'd learned her lesson.

  From now on, she would stay as far away from Justin as she could get.

  Chapter Nineteen

  July, 1994 - Western Nepal

  The dream came and went.

  It was always the same. He was in a maze, and he kept walking and walking, but he could never find the way out. He knew it was there, probably just around the corner, but it always eluded him. Just as his name and where he'd come from and what had happened to him eluded him. Somehow the two were tied together, and he knew, if he ever found the way out of the maze, he'd also find himself.

  He fingered the plastic-enclosed picture of the beautiful girl with the laughing eyes. The picture and the clothes he'd worn when the villagers found him, were all he had of his former life.

  He knew the girl was important to him. Sometimes, when he looked into her green eyes, he felt as if he were almost there. Something . . . some tiny memory buried deep in his subconscious would tug at the corners of his mind. He'd strain, trying to reach it, but it would drift away.

  At times like these, his head would hurt unbearably, and he would moan. Within moments, Reena would come, with her sympathetic dark eyes and soothing, cool hands and gentle words of comfort. She would stroke his forehead and give him water and sit with him until his headache went away. Sometimes she would sing, and he would fall asleep.

  He had figured out early in his sojourn that Reena was the matriarchal head of the village. The other women looked up to her and deferred to her opinions.

  He knew he was lucky, because Reena had obviously adopted him. It was clear she considered him a son of sorts, because she mothered him and fussed over him.

  In the first days after they'd found him, when he'd been nearly delirious with pain, she had directed the men to move him into her ghar, and she'd nursed him day and night. She'd fed him endless cups of tea, which she called chiyaa and a type of gruel made of potatoes called aalu, and then, when he got stronger, maasu mixed with cooked banda kobi—meat and cabbage.

  "Ramro, ramro," she would say when he finished his food. She would give him a wide smile, and eventually, he figured out she was praising him, that the word ramro meant good.

  During that first winter, when the blizzards, followed by the terrible avalanches, cut the village off completely, she had tended him gently and lovingly.

  Gradually, he had healed. Not completely. Not the way he imagined he had been before, but enough so that by spring, he could walk with the aid of handmade crutches. Now the only help he needed was a cane.

  At times he wondered why the villagers had not sought help for him, had not tried to take him to one of the bigger cities where surely someone would know who he was. But eventually he had realized that the villagers were simply wary of outsiders, although they did not seem at all wary of him. In fact, he was treated as if he were an honored guest. At first, he couldn't understand why. Later, he realized his status had nothing to do with him but everything to do with Reena and her position in the village.

  During the long summer that followed, as he learned to communicate more easily, he became friendly with a young boy who seemed to be an orphan and was watched out for by several of the male villagers.

  The boy, whose name was Jamuna, spent long hours sitting at his feet and teaching him words from the Nepalese language. Patiently, Jamuna would point, then say the word, and he would repeat it until he knew what it meant. In this way, he learned that he was an American and that the villagers revered America
ns and considered them all to be rich and powerful.

  After he'd healed to the point he could walk with the cane, he wondered if he should try to find his way back to some kind of civilization, but each time he considered going, he became frightened.

  This village, these people, and especially Reena, were the only people he knew. Here he was safe. Outside, who knew? When he'd been hurt and lost his memory, maybe he had been involved in something illegal. He had no idea. Maybe, if he left the village, he would be arrested and thrown in jail . . . or worse.

  If only he knew. If only he could make his way out of the maze and recapture the lost pieces of his life.

  Then maybe, he could go home.

  Chapter Twenty

  July, 1994 - Houston

  "Amy?"

  "Hmm?" She stirred from her comfortable niche in Justin's arms and twisted so she could see his face.

  "Remember what we talked about after we got back from Las Vegas?"

  "Yes." She'd been wondering when he would reintroduce the subject. Lately, she'd felt deeply contented and more than ready to move on to the next phase of their relationship.

  He bent his head and kissed her, a lingering kiss that spoke not so much of desire as of love. "I love you so much," he whispered against her mouth. "You know that, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "You've been happy with me, haven't you?"

  She smiled. "Yes."

  His gaze clung to hers for a long moment. "Amy, I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

  She tried not to think about the last time someone had asked her to marry him. She tried not to remember her soaring happiness, and the eagerness with which she'd given her answer. It wasn't fair to Justin to compare him with Sam or to compare this situation with the other. They were nothing alike, and she was nothing like the girl she'd been two years ago, either.

  Sam had been the love of her heart. She would never again feel the same way about anyone.

  Justin was her friend and her lover, someone she cared for deeply, someone who would always be there for her.

  She caressed his cheek. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll marry you."

  His smile nearly broke her heart, it was so filled with joy. She wished she could tell him, without reservation, that she loved him the way he loved her, but she couldn't, and she wouldn't pretend.

  "What do you think about October?" he said after another lingering kiss.

  "October? But October's only three months away, and I don't get any time off in October." And Sam died in October.

  "I thought we could postpone a wedding trip until your Christmas break."

  Amy involuntarily stiffened. She knew he hadn't realized the significance of a wedding trip over the Christmas break, but that had been when she and Sam were supposed to get married. "Justin," she said slowly, "I really want everything about . . . about our wedding to be different."

  "Different?" For a moment, he seemed confused, then realization dawned. "Oh." He grimaced. "That was pretty stupid of me, wasn't it?"

  She shrugged.

  "Well, then, why don't we get married over Thanksgiving and just go somewhere for a three-day weekend?"

  Four months.

  Was she ready to get married in four months? It seemed so soon. Then again, why not? She wanted to marry Justin, didn't she?

  So there really wasn't any reason to wait.

  * * *

  "Please be happy for me, Lark. I know you don't approve. I know you don't think I love Justin the way I should, but I do love him. And I think I can make him happy."

  Lark tried to ignore the pain that had come so swiftly and with such intensity. She had thought she was ready for this announcement, but obviously she wasn't. "I am happy for you, Amy. My only concern in all of this is that Justin deserves one hundred percent."

  "And I'll give him one hundred percent."

  Lark looked at Amy's eyes—at the honesty and sincerity she saw there. Amy really believed she would do what she said, and maybe she would. Lark hoped so. Taking a deep breath, she gave Amy her best smile. "Congratulations, then."

  Amy rushed forward, and they hugged.

  "You'll be my maid of honor, won't you?" Amy said as they broke apart.

  "I'd be hurt if you hadn't asked me."

  They smiled at each other.

  "Have you told your parents yet?" Lark asked.

  "Not yet, but we're planning to tomorrow night."

  "Your mother will be happy."

  "I know."

  "Justin's mother will be happy, too," Lark said, remembering Claire's concern for Justin.

  "I hope so. I really like her." Amy hesitated. "Sam thought the world of her, too."

  "I never told you, but at the New Year's Eve party she talked to me about you and Justin."

  "Really? What did she say?"

  "Not that much. Just that she was worried because she knew Justin was in love with you and she was afraid he might get hurt."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" There was no criticism in the question, only curiosity.

  Lark shrugged. "What was the point? By the time I saw you again, your relationship with him had obviously changed. I figured I'd laid enough on you with my worries. You sure didn't need to feel guilty about Justin's mother."

  "Now that my life is settling down, we've got to work on yours," Amy said. "There's got to be a guy out there for you."

  "Oh, no! Forget that. I told you once before. No more fixed up dates for me. I'm perfectly happy the way I am."

  Later, as Lark drove home, she wondered if the day would ever come when she could be completely honest with Amy again.

  She certainly hoped so.

  Because when that happened, she would no longer feel this pain.

  * * *

  "Amy, darling, I'm so happy for you!" Faith exclaimed. "And Justin . . . this is wonderful." She gave him her warmest smile.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Carpenter. I'll do my best to make Amy happy."

  "I know you will," Faith said.

  "Congratulations," Alan said, shaking Justin's hand.

  Faith hoped Justin didn't sense Alan's reserve, which was so obvious to her. Well, Alan was very like Amy. A complete romantic, whereas Faith was more realistic. Yes, she and Alan had been meant to be, but if something had happened to keep them apart, Faith had no doubt she would have eventually met someone else with whom she could have been happy.

  Justin would make Amy a wonderful husband. And one of these days, Alan would be just as enthusiastic as Faith was. She looked at Amy. "So have you picked a date?"

  "Yes. We thought we'd get married on Wednesday night, the day before Thanksgiving."

  "Perfect," Faith said, glad they weren't waiting too long.

  Later, after Amy and Justin had gone over to her apartment, Alan said, "Well, you got your wish."

  Faith smiled. "Yes, thank goodness."

  Alan nodded, but his eyes were concerned.

  "Alan, darling, don't worry. This is the best thing that could have happened to Amy."

  It was awhile before he answered. "No, it isn't. The best thing that could have happened would be for Sam not to have died."

  Faith held her tongue. She still firmly felt that Sam would have eventually made Amy unhappy. Justin was a much better choice for her. Much more settled and mature and certainly more dependable. But why argue? Sam was dead, and Justin was alive.

  And nothing Alan believed or wished would change those facts.

  * * *

  That Sunday, Justin brought Amy to his mother's for dinner. The day before, the two of them had gone shopping for rings, and today Amy wore the square-cut diamond he'd given her on her left hand. He was so proud of her. And she looked so beautiful today, in a green flowered dress made out of some kind of silky material that floated when she moved. He couldn't wait to see his family's reaction when they made their announcement. They didn't disappoint him.

  His mother was obviously thrilled. "I couldn't be happier," she said, hugging Amy.
r />   "Thank you, Mrs. Malone."

  "Please, call me Claire," his mother said. "Mrs. Malone makes me feel too old."

  Amy laughed. "You sound like my mother."

  When his mother turned to him, there were tears in her eyes. She laughingly brushed them away. "Don't mind me. I'm being silly."

  "No, you're not," he said, putting his arm around her. He felt a bit choked up, himself.

  Jessie hugged Justin hard. "Good for you," she said.

  Katie laughed happily. "This is great!" she enthused. She threw her arms around Justin. "Sam would've liked this, too, don't you think?"

  Her words caused a twinge of uneasiness, and Justin quickly looked at Amy to see if she'd heard his sister's remark, but she was laughing and talking to Susan and Lisa. Then he got mad at himself for falling into that old guilt trap again. There was no reason for him to feel the least bit guilty. He had not stolen Amy from Sam. Sam was dead, and Amy and Justin were alive.

  He looked at Amy again. She fit in with his family perfectly. And they all loved her, just as he'd known they would.

  He thought about everything he and Amy had been through together. All the pain, all the sadness. But that was all behind them.

  From now on, things would only get better.

  And in November, when Amy was finally his wife, life would be perfect.

  Part Three - Amy

  Chapter Twenty-one

  October 2, 1994 - Western Nepal

  It was a stupid accident.

  One minute he was walking along the path to the stream where he did his daily bathing. His leg was feeling good; he was hardly limping at all, so he was barely using his cane. The next minute he had tripped over a protruding root of a larch tree. He fell hard, hitting his head on a rock, and he lay sprawled on his stomach. Pain stabbed at his temples, and for a moment, he was afraid he was going to pass out. He called weakly.

  Several of the villagers heard him and came running, Reena among them. "Sahib," she murmured, "sahib."