“Sure.” He squeezed her hands and gave her another tight smile. Then, finally, he leaned over and did what she’d been waiting for—he kissed her.
Except it was a small kiss, a mere brushing of his lips against hers. Not a passionate, soul-consuming kiss. Not the kiss she’d dreamed about.
Why not?
“I’m going to go check on Grace,” Jake said when the too-short kiss was over. “Your sister has her.”
“Yes, Lark. Because you weren’t here?” She shook her head, which was not the best idea she’d ever had. Her head began to hurt. “I missed something, didn’t I? You had a job in New York, right?”
“New York?” He looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. Or maybe a third one. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a haircut—a good one—right about now. She wanted him to look at her with the love he’d always had in his eyes. “I did have a job there.”
Oh, good—she’d gotten that part right. Suddenly, she was tired—the excitement of Jake’s arrival had worn off, apparently. She yawned and tried to hide it behind her hand, but she didn’t do a very good job. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m just so tired of being asleep.”
Finally, Jake looked at her with the tenderness she recognized. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll talk to the doctor and do what I need to in order to get you set up.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You rest up. Grace needs you to get better.”
“Okay,” she agreed, having trouble keeping her eyes open. “But you’ll come back for me, right?”
There was another one of those long pauses as he stared at her. “I will always come back for you, Skye.” He squeezed her hand. “Now get some rest. I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
“Good,” she told him as she squeezed back. Then his warmth was away from her.
Jake was here, she thought as she drifted. He was going to get Grace. And he’d come back for her.
Everything was going to be perfect.
Two
“What’s wrong with her?”
Both the doctor and his research assistant looked at Jake with raised eyebrows. Okay, maybe that had been a little gruff—but seriously?
She was different. Or rather, she was the same as she’d once been—but not the same woman she’d been the last time he’d seen her. Skye hadn’t looked at him with that kind of adoration in a long time. And when was the last time she’d wanted sex? When was the last time she’d wanted him?
Jake had only taken one job in New York. And that had been two years ago. It’d been a small job, but it’d led to bigger and better things.
Two years ago. That’d been the last time things had been good between them. After Jake had started getting those bigger and better jobs, things had begun to fall apart.
“Skye had a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor explained. “I’m her surgeon. Dr. Lucas Wakefield,” he added, sticking out his hand.
Jake shook it. “But what does that mean?”
“It means that, as near as we can tell, Skye was driving into Royal when the tornado hit. We suspect her car was picked up and tossed around.”
“And?” Jake demanded. Julie’s eyebrows went up again, but Jake was past caring.
Skye had driven into a damn tornado. Why? That wasn’t like her. She was more careful than that. She knew how Texas weather could be. She would have taken shelter or gotten off the road or something.
“Think of it as a concussion—only the most extreme kind. We kept her under for a few months to allow her brain to heal and it took her some time to wake up after we cut back on the drugs we were using to induce the coma. Her memory is...compromised.”
“And what does that mean?” Jake demanded. What was it going to take to get a straight answer out of the man?
“She’s got what the layperson might call amnesia,” Dr. Wakefield explained. “She doesn’t seem to have the last two years, although her long-term memory is mostly intact. Anything that happened right before the accident is probably gone for good.”
For the second time that day, Jake had to lean on something to keep his legs underneath him. “Will she—will she get those two years back?” Would she remember how things had broken between them? Would she remember the fight? The divorce papers?
When he’d seen her just now, she hadn’t had her ring on. She hadn’t had her earrings in, either—the big diamond studs he’d bought her just as things had started to go south on them. He wondered where they were—lost in the storm or left behind on purpose?
“Hard to say. The brain is an amazing organ. For now, we recommend keeping any shocks to the system to a bare minimum. Obviously, she knows about your daughter.”
Grace. His daughter, Grace.
“But,” Dr. Wakefield went on as if Jake weren’t on the verge of collapse, “if there were...other surprises, I’d keep those close to the vest.”
“You want me to, what—lie to her?”
Julie said, “Not lie, no. Think of it as glossing over. She’s going to be confused for some time. Too much too soon would be a severe shock to her system. We don’t want her to have a setback.”
Jake shook his head, hoping to get the world to stop spinning. None of this was right. None of it.
Skye didn’t remember how they’d broken up. Why they’d broken up.
And he couldn’t tell her.
God, what a mess.
Julie handed him a packet. “She’ll have to do physical therapy to regain her muscle strength. This is a preliminary list of stretches and exercises you’ll need to help her with at home during her recovery to rebuild her strength to a point where PT will be helpful to her. In a week or two, you’ll need to bring her into the office so she can work with a therapist.”
He stared at the sheet. The top one had a photo of a woman in a spandex unitard laying on the floor and another woman in hospital scrubs stretching her leg so that it pointed straight up. “Me?”
“Are you two married?” Julie eyed him. Closely. “If so, you’re her next of kin. We had planned to release her to Lark Taylor, but if you’re here, you’ll be the one in charge of her care.”
“We are married,” he said, feeling the full impact of those words. He’d sworn vows to her, vows to be there for her in sickness and in health, until death parted them. She’d wanted to break those vows, but because she’d been in a coma and he’d been in a different hemisphere, they hadn’t managed to do that just yet.
Then something else dawned on him. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I can’t take her back to Houston?”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” Dr. Wakefield said, giving Jake a suspicious look. “I’d like to continue to monitor her recovery. I have colleagues in Houston that I could refer you to, but I’d prefer to remain her primary. Consistency of care can’t be overestimated at this point.”
He was going to have to take care of her. He was going to have to look at her and know he’d lost her and not tell her that. He couldn’t tell her about the slow way the spark had died or how she’d had him served with papers.
Instead, he was going to have to take care of a woman who thought she still loved him because she couldn’t remember how she’d stopped loving him.
And to do that, he was going to have to stay in the pit that was Royal, Texas.
How could this get any worse?
* * *
Jake had broken the cardinal rule. No matter how bad things were, never, ever ask how they could possibly be worse.
Because a man never knew when a dog was going to try and break through the door to get to him.
Jake stood on the front porch of a nondescript house in a nice part of town. He was pretty sure this was the address Keaton had given him. On the other side of the door, the dog was howling and scratching like a crazed beast. Jake debated getting back
in the car. If the dog got out, Jake would prefer to have a layer of metal between the two of them.
Seconds ticked by more slowly than molasses in January. His fingers started twitching toward the doorbell to ring it again. They knew he was coming, right?
The dog still going nuts, Jake was just about to start pounding on the door when he heard the lock being turned. “Nicki!” Keaton shouted. “Knock it off! Back up!”
The barking ceased almost immediately, then the door cracked open and the first thing Jake heard was the wailing of a baby. An unhappy baby.
“About time,” Keaton grumbled, opening the door and standing aside. “You woke her up. Next time, just knock. That doesn’t seem to set Nicki off nearly as badly as the doorbell does.”
“Sorry.” And truthfully—with all that screaming? Jake actually was sorry.
Keaton got the door closed behind him. Jake’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The blinds were down and in addition to the screaming he heard the sounds of...classical music?
“This way,” Keaton said, stepping around Jake. “Watch out for Nicki.”
Jake eyed the dog that was now sitting next to the door. The dog’s hackles were up and it was growling, but at least it hadn’t attacked. “Nice doggie,” Jake said as he stepped around the animal. Man, he hoped that thing was well trained. “Good girl.”
“Yeah, we just got her a few weeks ago. Australian shepherd. Nicki goes with me out to the ranch—I’m training her to keep tabs on the cattle. She’s really good at it.” As Keaton spoke, he walked confidently though the house. He led Jake—and Nicki—past large framed landscapes of Texas in all the seasons—bluebells in one, the bright summer sky in another. They walked past shelves that seemed to overflow with books, all of which looked uniformly well-read. This was not the pristine, almost sterile kind of house that Skye had grown up in. This was a home that seemed lived in. But it didn’t seem particularly feminine.
“This your place?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
“It’s Lark’s. We’re building a place of our own.” Keaton didn’t offer any more details.
Jake had a lot of questions from that one statement, but before he could figure out how to ask them, they entered a room that had probably once been a tidy great room. Except now there were baby blankets draped everywhere, mats with mirrored things attached spread over the floor and more stuffed animals than Jake could count. There were bookshelves in here, too, but the books had been cleared off the lower ones and bins full of toys and things that Jake didn’t recognize now filled the space. Plus, there was an absolutely huge television along one wall that seemed out of place in the worst sort of way.
In the middle of it all, on a couch that was piled high with cloths and diapers, sat Skye’s sister, Lark, with a small, squalling baby in her arms. Lark was wearing medical scrubs. Maybe she was a nurse?
At the sight of them, Lark got a mean look about her—a look Jake recognized from days long gone. It was a look he’d seen more often on Vera Taylor’s face than on Skye’s, but the hatred was unmistakable.
“Babe,” Keaton said, crouching down in front of her. He rubbed his hands over her thighs. “You remember Jake, my—my brother?”
“No,” Lark said. But it didn’t sound as if she was answering Keaton’s question.
“Lark,” Jake said, trying to be polite about it.
The baby cried even more. Jake wouldn’t have thought that was possible, but it was. This morning, he hadn’t been a father. Now he was faced with a wailing infant.
Skye wasn’t supposed to have any shocks to her system. He wished someone had given the same orders for him because he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
“Where have you been?” Lark snapped. Her eyes filled with tears, and Jake noticed the dark circles underneath.
“Babe...” Keaton said, touching her face. It was a tender gesture.
Jake wasn’t sure what part of this scene made the least amount of sense. Keaton had always said Lark Taylor was a stuck-up bookworm who thought she was better than everyone else—and Jake had never argued that point much. Lark hadn’t liked Jake. The feeling had been mutual.
“I was in Bahrain. I came back for Skye and for our daughter.” The words were coming easier now. But he stared at the little baby still crying in Lark’s arms and the room began to feel smaller.
“Oh,” Lark said. “So glad to see that you’ve decided to acknowledge her. Where have you been since she was born? Do you even know how old she is? Do you know anything about her?”
Before Jake could reply, Keaton spoke. “Lark,” he said in a soft voice, trying to draw her attention back to him. “We talked about this.”
“But you know him, Keaton. You know he’s going to take Grace and disappear. Just like he always does.”
Yeah, that stung. “I promise, I’m not going to walk off with that baby.”
“Because you keep your promises, right?” Lark shot back at him. The baby was really letting loose now. “I wouldn’t trust you farther than I can throw you.”
Okay, that stung more. Jake nervously eyed the baby—his daughter—and fought the urge to cover his ears. Unfamiliar panic began to build in his chest. “I don’t know where you think I’m going to go with an infant, not when Skye’s doctor insists she needs to stay local. Despite what you assume about me and Skye, I do not disappear. I had a job in Bahrain, but it’s over now. I’m going to take care of my family.”
Keaton and Lark exchanged a look. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the baby. She was small and bald and an interesting shade of red—although he hoped that was from all the screaming and not her natural color. “How old is she?”
“Three months.” Lark began rocking and patting the baby on the back. She wasn’t looking at Jake, but that was okay. At least she was telling him what he needed to know. “She was eleven weeks premature—that’s their best guess. She was in the NICU for two months. And since Skye was still under when Grace was ready to leave the hospital, she was turned over to her next of kin.” She looked at Keaton. The anger she’d directed at Jake was gone from her eyes; now he saw something else there. “That’s us.”
Jake recognized the emotion. Lark looked at Keaton the way Skye used to look at him. It’d been a while, though.
He sat in a nearby recliner and dropped his head into his hands, trying to keep his emotions in check. When had Skye stopped looking at him like that? And why hadn’t he noticed when she did?
“Since she was so early,” Lark went on, “she’s got a bunch of health risks that full-term babies don’t have to worry about. She shouldn’t be outside in this weather and she shouldn’t be around strangers. If she got sick, she could wind up back in the hospital. Or worse. She’s a full-time job right now.”
Jake knew that shaking his head wasn’t going to help a damn thing but he did it anyway. He had jobs waiting now—Bahrain had been very good for him. He couldn’t take an infant with health risks out of the country. Hell, he couldn’t even take Skye to Houston.
Trapped. He was trapped in this town.
“Keaton said he told you about the blood tests,” Lark said into the silence.
“He did.”
“He said you didn’t know about Grace.”
“I thought...” He didn’t know what to do. His entire world—everything he thought he knew—had been turned inside out in the space of about four hours.
He didn’t trust his brother and he didn’t trust the Taylors—with the exception of Skye.
He thought that his brother would never trust a Taylor either. Yet here Jake sat, in Lark Taylor’s house, watching her and Keaton cuddle and soothe a fussy baby. Together.
“What did you think?” For the first time since Jake had walked into this house, he heard the attitude in Keaton’s voice.
He didn’t want to tell them this. But his back was against a wall—a wall covered in four-inch spikes. As much as he hated it, he needed both Lark and Keaton right now. He had a bunch of questions and they had the closest thing to answers.
“Skye and I...” He absolutely could not tell them about the divorce papers. “I had that big job in Bahrain coming up. It was a yearlong contract and she decided she didn’t want to spend that much time in a foreign country. Bahrain may be richer than sin, but it’s not exactly a progressive state.”
All of that was true enough. She hadn’t wanted to go to Bahrain and she hadn’t wanted to stay home alone. She’d wanted him to stay with her. And he’d picked the job over her. That had been the proverbial straw that had broken the camel’s back.
“Is that it?” Keaton said with a snort.
“Yes.” And since Skye might never remember the fight, there was no one to contradict Jake’s lie.
Lark looked victorious, but strangely, it didn’t make her seem any happier. “Were you married? Skye said you were but she didn’t have her ring on and who knows, with that memory of hers.” She looked at Jake’s hand.
Jake spun the plain gold band around his finger. It’d been the only ring they’d been able to afford when they slipped off into the night together four years ago.
“Yes. We got married three days after we left.”
Silence followed this statement. He and Skye had driven to Houston and found a preacher who would marry them. He’d been wearing his old boots and a pair of jeans, but Skye had been in a simple white skirt and a bright blue top. She’d been so beautiful that day...
“So what are you going to do now?” Keaton finally asked. “Because Lark is right. We’re not going to stand aside and let you disappear off into the night with this baby. We’re not going to let you do anything that would put her at risk.”
His Lost and Found Family Page 3