Remember My Love

by Elise Dee Beraru

  "He played an occasional game of poker, but he was always disciplined enough to stop after a few hours. Even if he lost all his money playing cards, he could still have wired here collect."

  Conlin's eyes narrowed. "Could there be any reason he wouldn't want to be found?"

  Stephen started. "Such as?"

  "Have you discovered any irregularities in the books?"

  Indignantly, Stephen responded, "Carroll Enterprises is not a publicly held corporation. Blair, my father and I each have equal interests. For Blair to steal from the company would be to steal from himself. It's out of the question."

  The detective took that in dispassionately. "Then the only remaining possibilities are either he met with an accident on the road and was found or he met with foul play. If your brother was robbed, it's likely the robbers killed him and left his body out on the range. If it was an accident, whoever might have found his body merely robbed it of any valuables. If nobody found the body and buried it, I would guess animals got it."

  Stephen felt intense pain in the vicinity of his heart. He did not want to believe that Blair was lying in some grave in the wilderness or had been left like carrion to rot on the plains.

  "Any description of who sold the watch and ring to those shops?" he asked Conlin.

  "No, both merchants described the man or men as of average height, average weight, no distinguishing features, but then these types are known to pay bottom dollar and not ask too many questions, nor to have long memories."

  Stephen ground his teeth in frustration. "So whoever robbed him is going to get away with it."

  "Well," said Conlin, "if anything else readily identifiable as your brother's turns up, it might give us something to go by."

  "All of his luggage except one valise arrived in San Francisco when the rail line was reopened. Other than a small amount of cash, a letter of credit only he could use and his watch and ring, Blair wouldn't have been carrying anything of intrinsic value except his clothing. I'm not even sure whether he used a wallet or a money clip."

  "Did he have a gun you could identify?"

  "Mr. Conlin, what possible use would my brother have for a gun? He's a San Francisco shipping magnate. He didn't even serve in the War. I doubt he's ever even fired a gun. Have your people checked at nearby towns or farms?"

  "Most of the roads are pretty impassable this time of year. Some of those farmers don't see strangers from October to March. We'll send operatives back to Wyoming and Colorado once spring comes. If Mr. Carroll is alive, he should be safe enough if he's at one of those farms. It's possible he's snowed in and unable to get a message out."

  Stephen agreed. He had to. It was the only hope he had left. "I understand. When it's your brother, you don't want to think of him as lying dead on some lonely prairie a thousand miles from home. Go ahead and send your interim bill to our office, to the attention of Owen Winslow. And let me know if anything breaks."

  Conlin made a polite closing remark and left the office, closing the door behind him.

  Stephen put his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. Two months and no word from Blair.

  Stephen never asked to be a businessman. He'd never even wanted to be the company's attorney. In law school he'd served as a clerk in a legal clinic for indigents. With Blair gone, Stephen's dreams would die.

  Stephen did not want to believe Blair was dead.

  But then, where was he?

  ADELE KNEW she was in love with Brian, even if she had not told him so. She knew Brian had no place to go and was unlikely to set out in the dead of winter, but she did not want to burden him with a declaration when she was not sure it was returned. She was also afraid that when spring arrived, he might just leave.

  Brian knew he was in love with Adele, but he had not said the words to her either. How could he confess his love to a woman when he did not know who he was? How could Adele accept in her life a man with no past? Besides, Brian was not certain Adele returned his affection. He did not want to make her uncomfortable with his continued presence when he knew she would not ask him to leave the Stoddard property until the safety of spring.

  As spring approached, the farm work became more demanding. The melting of snow meant it was time to hone the plow and uncrate the seed and repair the harnesses. Some nights Brian and Adele were so exhausted that they fell into bed, asleep before they hit the mattress. Other nights they would massage each other's sore muscles until they were languorous and drowsy. Very often, the contact of the massages led to lovemaking.

  Their lovemaking had developed into a comfortable, sensuous habit. It was rare for one of them to pass the other within an arm's length without a touch, a caress, a kiss, either quick or lingering. Brian continued to quilt, bending over the frame opposite his lover, but, unlike the first time, when he would reach for her hand she would not pull away. Their knees would make contact, or their hands on each other's thighs or they would play with each other's toes. Adele, who had been plying a needle since she was five years old, was sure that this was the slowest, but most enjoyable way to make a quilt. Unfortunately, she joked, they would never get the silly thing done because the playing usually ended them up in bed, where they would revel in the constant discovery of each other's bodies and in experimenting with new ways to arouse each other.

  Brian is right, Adele would think to herself, this is fun.

  Brian kept his promise to Susannah and taught her to ride using the altered saddle. After her chores in the house were done, Susannah would ride out for short rides as she became used to horseback riding.

  Finally, March arrived. For the first time since Tom Stoddard had taken sick, Adele had someone to help with the backbreaking task of plowing the fields. She and Brian loaded the freshly-honed plow, seed and compost into the rickety wagon and, hitching the jenny, hauled it out to the fields.

  Hitching the jenny to the plow the first time every spring was always a challenge because the beast would grow accustomed to the winter's inactivity. More than once the mule tried to kick out, but Adele knew her old tricks and got her bridled.

  At Adele's instruction, Brian pulled the plow bridle across his back, also narrowly avoiding a well-placed kick from the mule. He left off his shirt to save wear and tear. Commanding with the reins, he urged the mule forward as the plow cut deeply into the still muddy earth. Large puddles from melted snow caked mud on the plow, requiring occasional halts to clean the blades with feed bags and a hoe.

  Adele followed along behind the plow, spreading seed into the furrows from a load in her apron and covering them with dirt using her shoe as she followed along.

  She watched Brian's back as his muscles worked beneath his skin, which was becoming bronzed, even from the cool spring sun. A sheen of perspiration coated his torso and separated his lengthening hair into damp curls against the nape of his neck.

  Day after day this backbreaking work continued, punctuated only with respites devoted to shoveling compost on the previously planted seed. Brian painfully discovered new muscles previously ignored. His respect for his slender lover deepened with the knowledge that for nearly three years she had undertaken this dreadful but necessary task single-handedly. Days later he was still aching deep in the muscles of his back, stomach, arms and legs, while she was nearly pain-free. Never before had her healing fingers on his shoulders and back been more welcome. More often than not he fell asleep right after dinner and slept like a log until morning. But even if his need to be inside her was diminished by exhaustion, his pleasure at finding her cuddled up against him in the morning more than made up for it.

  Even without his memory, Brian knew he was working harder than he had ever worked in his life. He could not imagine that whatever kind of job his forgotten self had performed could have made him feel more alive than this manual labor did. He barely noticed the development of strong, defined muscles and bronzed skin that, with his now shaggy mustache and longish black hair, made him almost unrecognizable from the man who had awakened
with no past.

  While occasionally he made sarcastic remarks whose source he could not identify, in general Brian Strange was a lighthearted man who treated life as if it had begun on the day he gained consciousness.

  Brian made the decision not to dwell on his memory loss, but to deal with his past if and when it returned to him. His world was bounded by Stoddard land and Adele's love and yet he was serene and content, with one small exception.

  He chose the day the planting was finished to deal with that.

  Having finished the last furrows, Brian and Adele stooped over the plow, removing the last of the mud, when Brian suddenly threw a clod of mud at Adele. The mud splattered on her old calico dress and Adele looked up to see Brian grinning with mischief.

  Not to be bested, she grabbed a clod of her own and threw it at him. It spattered on his nose.

  Soon they were having a mud battle royal, running to a nearby mud puddle and splashing the murky soup at each other until they were both soaking wet and brown from head to foot and shaking with laughter like a couple of children. Plopped near the side of the mud puddle they clung to each other panting with mirth and lack of wind and trying to scrape the mud off each other's faces. Before long Adele was lying on her back on the muddy ground with Brian lying next to her, groping a muddy hand under her skirts and sliding up her calves and then her thighs. Her pantalets were made without a crotch seam for convenience and she felt him try to slip his fingers into the opening.

  Then, abruptly, Brian stood up and began to walk away.

  Right on his heels, Adele crawled upright and followed him.

  "What's the matter?" she asked, amazed at his sudden withdrawal. They had never started to make love before that they had not finished.

  "It's not enough," Brian replied cryptically.

  "I don't understand."

  "Us being lovers."

  "But I like making love with you. It's wonderful, Brian. It's more than I ever dreamed was possible."

  "I don't want to be your lover anymore," Brian said as he continued to walk in the direction of the house.

  Adele felt as if something inside her had died. "Why?" she questioned as she followed him, voice thick with emotion.

  "I want to be your husband."

  Adele stopped dead in her tracks. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

  Brian turned to face her. "I suppose it's an awkward way of proposing."

  Adele stood facing him, arms akimbo. "Why on earth would you want to marry me?"

  "Why? Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

  Adele felt her breath stop. "You love me?" she choked out.

  "Yes, my darling, practical Adele. I love you."

  Adele ran into his arms, tears in her eyes that had nothing to do with the mud. "Oh, Brian, I do love you."

  For a long time they embraced, Adele cradled in the shelter of Brian's arms. She could feel his warm breath ruffling loose strands of her hair; feel the pounding of his heart against her chest; smell the strong, masculine scent as she pressed her face against the hollow of his neck.

  She paused, a serious cloud passing over her face. "How do you know you aren't already married?"

  Without pausing, Brian responded, "I think I would know such a thing. I don't think I'm married. I don't feel like I've ever been married. When I first came here, I caught myself saying some pretty unflattering things about women. Besides, Brian Strange is most certainly not married since he's only five months old."

  Adele chewed on that for a minute. "I'll marry you on one condition; that you wear a wedding ring and never take it off."

  A shadow crossed Brian's face and his mouth compressed. "I don't know if I want to do that." He held up his right hand. "Seems I already lost a finger over a ring I must have been wearing. Is it that important to you?"

  Adele's hand flew to cover her mouth. "Oh, Brian, I wasn't thinking. It's just that you're so handsome I don't want any women to get any ideas they can steal you from me. And, if your memory ever comes back, I want you to remember my love for you."

  "As if I ever could forget my sweet Adele," Brian intoned solemnly. "I'll think about the ring. You know, I didn't do this right, did I?" Brian dropped down to one knee and took her hands in his. "Adele Stoddard, will you marry me?"

  "I would be honored to be your wife...Brian...."

  "Yes, sweeting?"

  "You've got your knee in a mud puddle."

  THEY DECIDED to marry in May. Adele had been saving fifteen yards of bleached muslin "for a rainy day" that would turn out to be saved for a sunny day instead. She made herself a wedding dress, full-skirted, modestly cut bodice trimmed in self-fabric ruffles from shoulders to waist in rows of V's. Ruffles also trimmed the ends of the long sleeves. The back buttoned with little buttons Brian carved from a venison bone.

  She used the rest of the muslin to make Brian a new shirt especially to be worn on that day. If one can express love with a needle, Adele put every ounce of her love into that shirt, wishing deep in her heart it could be of fine linen instead of cheap muslin. The scraps she fashioned into roses that Susannah helped her dye with a wild berry infusion until they were a pale pink. She would wear them in her hair instead of a veil.

  She attacked her father's black broadcloth Sunday suit, cutting down the jacket to make a vest and using the sleeves to lengthen the pants. She could not really hide the seams at the bottom of the pants, but since they were of the same fabric the extensions were far less visible unless one looked closely.

  There was special emotion in making over the suit. It was the last of her father's clothes. Everything else had already been made over or pieced together for the taller, broader-shouldered Brian. She remembered arguing at the time of her father's death that it was foolish to destroy a perfectly good suit by burying Tom Stoddard in it. Fortunately, she had prevailed over the undertaker who settled for an overpriced shroud.

  During plowing, the axle of the old wagon finally cracked from twenty years of wear and weather. This repair was well beyond the skills of anyone on the Stoddard farm. They got the plow back to the barn, but it was apparent that the wagon would not carry three adults a few yards, much less the twenty miles to Green River.

  Attempts to saddle the jenny were fruitless. The old mule bucked and battled any attempts to put a saddle on her.

  Susannah volunteered to stay home.

  Adele protested, "But it's my wedding day. How can I get married without you? You're my sister."

  "How can you get married without the bride and groom? Put Pa's saddle on Esmeralda; Brian can straddle and you can ride in front of him across his lap. Esmeralda can handle the two of you."

  "The only other solution," Brian offered, "is to hold off the wedding until we can get someone out here to repair the wagon."

  Adele looked ready to make that decision, but Susannah stopped her.

  "It's okay, Sissy. I'll make the best dinner you ever ate. I'm sixteen. Lots of girls are already married at my age. Surely I'm capable of spending the day at home alone."

  Brian put his arm around Susannah's shoulder and gave her a squeeze. "I'll miss having you with us, little matchmaker." Adele felt such a flood of love for this man that tears of joy filled her eyes. How lucky she was to have Brian Strange in her life!

  Early the next morning, Brian and Adele set off. Although not the most graceful means of transportation, having Adele sitting across his lap as he guided Esmeralda was certainly the most sensual journey Brian reckoned he would ever take. Dressed in their new clothes, Adele felt almost like a princess.

  Because they were riding double, it took four hours to reach Green River, arriving at nearly eleven. Adele only went to town a few times a year since the town had expanded with the building of the railroad. As they approached the mercantile, Adele was greeted by one of the most familiar faces in town, Mr. Duneagan, the factor.

  "Good morning to you, Miss Stoddard," the bandy-legged Irishman greeted in his Limerick brogue. "And
to you, sir."

  "Mr. Duneagan, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Brian Strange."

  Mr. Duneagan reached up his hand to shake Brian's. Brian was immediately self-conscious of his missing finger. No one except the Stoddard sisters had seen him and until now, he had nearly forgotten its lack, but the factor didn't seem to pay it much mind. It was clear that the man had never seen Brian before.

  "Well, Miss Stoddard, it's pleased I am to see you're going to have a man around again to run that place."

  Adele stiffened. "I've done my best."

  Brian interrupted, "Adele still runs the place. I'm just the brawn of the outfit."

  "Excuse me; `twas an unfortunate slip of the tongue. Last year I marveled at the crop there was to buy, considering this little lady put it in virtually single-handed. Her father was a tireless worker until his last illness, and there are just some things a woman isn't physically strong enough to do. It had nothing to do with brains or heart. Miss Stoddard has both of those in spades."

  "In that I agree," Brian observed.

  "You'd better be prepared to pay a good price this fall, because this year's crop will be even better," Adele bragged.

  Mr. Duneagan assessed the large, handsome man. He seemed to be a good catch. He had known Adele for years and could not remember seeing her look this pretty in a long time. Being in love certainly agreed with her. "You know," he said, "if you were ever to decide that you wanted to sell or lease that farm of yours I could find you a buyer on the spot."

  Brian responded, "Actually, I'm beginning to like being a farmer."

  "Mr. Duneagan, I really don't know anyone else in town that well. I'd be pleased if you and maybe your wife would stand as witnesses for our wedding. We figure to get to the justice of the peace about one-thirty, get married and head on back home."

  "Sure, and I'd be pleased to see you get hitched to this handsome specimen. One-thirty it is."