It’s more than you knew before, he told himself, but it didn’t help. He was a Ranger. Yes, that was useful. But now he was also wide-awake and steaming mad in the middle of the night.
He heard Bug’s snorting little whuffs—that dog always sounded as if he had a head cold—and the faint jingle of the poor guy’s ridiculous Christmas collar from the downstairs hallway. Poor Bug. The combination of his fat belly and his short legs imprisoned him on the first floor as sure as Luther’s bad knees. Amelia was right; Finn had often gotten to the top of the stairs to find Bug staring up at him with what could only be described as a jealous longing in the pug’s bulging eyes. Bug wasn’t much in the way of company, but it was better than staying up here wondering what to do with himself. Maybe a snack would settle him enough to get some more sleep.
Finn opened his bedroom door and padded to the landing to find Bug with two feet planted on the bottom step, staring sadly up. Finn had the odd thought that maybe Bug could mount the steps when he was younger and leaner, and he remembered the victory of being at the top of the stairs. Now you’re turning everything into remembering and forgetting, he chided himself as he made his way down the stairs to the grateful dog. He’d tried not to like the strange little beast, but Bug was always so happy to see him, the fat little guy had won him over.
Finn sat on the bottom stair and gave Bug a series of scratches. It made the Christmas collar jingle a bit, and Finn looked up to see Luther standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The fridge door was open, throwing a wedge of bluish light across the kitchen floor behind him. Luther had a brownie in one hand and his cane in the other.
“Howdy, sleepless,” Luther said, holding up the brownie. “There’s three more. Want to join me?”
Bug turned and waddled into the fridge, clearly thinking the invitation included him. “Absolutely.” Finn exhaled as he rose, glad not to be alone with his storm of thoughts right now. Brownies sounded excellent.
Luther snapped on a small light from under one cabinet, casting the kitchen in a dim warm glow. He had a glass of lemonade out on the counter with another brownie on a napkin. “Grab a few for yourself and join me at the table.” Luther narrowed his eyes and gave Finn a long look as he walked over to ease himself into a chair. “You look like someone just walloped you. Nightmare?”
Finn poured himself a glass, debating how much to share. He took two of the three brownies—despite feeling hungry enough to eat all of them—and sat down across from Luther. “Not exactly.” He was grateful for the semidarkness; it made it easier to talk.
“You remembered something, didn’t you?” Luther took a bite of brownie.
“How’d you know?”
“You’re wide-awake and so annoyed you nearly twitch.” Luther said. “Call it a good guess.”
Finn didn’t like feeling so transparent. Still, Luther was right—the discovery was humming inside him, needing to get out. Luther seemed as good a person as anyone—and certainly a better choice than Amelia given what she’d shared earlier this evening.
He elected to blurt it out. “I’m a Ranger. Or at least, I was. I think I still am, but it’s all fuzzy.”
Luther, thankfully, didn’t seem fazed by the news. “Well, that explains the police talk Amelia mentioned.” He paused slightly, adjusting the napkin in front of him before adding, “I take it you know Amelia has a bit of...history...with them?”
“She told me about Rafe, yes.” Finn ran his hands down his face. “I could know him, you know. We could be in the same company if I’m still on the force. Except, of course, I don’t even know my own name.”
“You’re Finn.”
“Sure, but is it my first name? Last name? Nickname? Nobody’s reported a Finn missing.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
Why was everyone always asking him that? “First name or nickname. It’s what everyone calls me. I know that much.”
“So things are coming back to you. Granted, not all you want, but some things, so I expect it’s only a matter of time. I’ll ask a favor of you, though.”
“Sure. Anything I can do.”
“Think hard about how and when you tell Amelia this. I know her—she’ll go to Rafe if she thinks he can help. That wouldn’t be such a good thing for her, if you know what I mean.”
He hadn’t thought about that. “Sure. I’ll be careful about it. Maybe just hold off and see what comes back on its own. I can tell Dr. Searle at my next appointment and see if he can access force records.”
“Amelia puts up a good show, but she’s still hurting over what that man did to her.” Finn saw such love for his granddaughter in Luther’s eyes. The old man had every right to hold his place on the Rangers against Finn—and Amelia still might—but there was no judgment on Luther’s face. Only regret and understanding. “It’s a hard thing you’re going through, son. You’re in my prayers.”
That felt good to hear. “Thank you.”
“Are you a praying man, Finn?”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Might be a good time to start. Something this big happening to you? Seems to me God’s up to something. When Amelia takes on a person as one of her projects—and you’re one, if you haven’t already figured that out—God’s always up to something. She’s got a sense. It’s her gift, you know?” He broke off the corner of his brownie. “Ain’t no stopping her once she gets it in her mind to help someone—I reckon you figured that out, too.”
Finn actually felt himself smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. Now eat up and let’s try and get on back to bed. Tomorrow’s comin’ whether we like it or not.”
* * *
Amelia watched Finn bang around the house Tuesday morning until his irritation and impatience were too much to ignore. She’d made him a hearty breakfast, and even let him do the dishes when he offered, but by lunch it was clear to the entire household that his day stretched too wide and empty before him.
He had just taken Bug for a walk—proof Finn was willing to occupy himself doing just about anything—when she stopped his pacing around the living room. “You’re not used to sitting around doing nothing, that’s clear enough to see.”
Finn shrugged. “If I sit still I start thinking about everything I don’t know.”
Amelia knew that feeling too well. “I know what you mean. I’m the kind that needs to stay busy, too.”
“Well, it’s kind of hard when you don’t know what it is your supposed to be doing.”
This man needs a task, and quick. “Well,” she said as brightly as she could, “maybe you just need to do whatever job’s right in front of you. Why don’t you come down to the church with me to the Here to Help office. I’ve got loads of stuff that needs doing for the upcoming Christmas party. And even more things that need putting away from the Thanksgiving event at the Lonestar League.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you the chairperson of every holiday in Little Horn?”
She laughed. “Well, now, I never quite thought about it that way, but I suppose it’s true.” She pointed at him, glad to see a hint of a smile on his features. “Don’t you sell that brain of yours short, Finn—you’re a clever one.” She fished into her handbag and jiggled the car keys, which sent Bug to running frenzied circles at her feet. “Come on, Bug, let’s go show off one of the best parts of Little Horn to our new friend.” She’d wanted to get Finn inside Little Horn Community Church, and this seemed like the ideal way to introduce him to the little white church that was the heart of this small town.
Amelia often walked to her “office”—really a small room down the back hallway of the church basement—but she had several boxes of toys, clothes and food that needed to be delivered to the storage room. Finn was the perfect candidate to help her load the little trolley cart and take it downstairs, where Here to Help kept its resources.
“If you need something in Little Horn,” Amelia said as she gestured around the room tha
t was a food pantry, a lending closet, a store and a library all rolled into one, “it’s my job to see that you get it. And if you’ve got something to give, it’s my job get it to whoever needs it. After Daddy died, I realized I had more money than I could ever spend in two lifetimes, so naturally I just started buying things for folks in need.”
She touched a baby blanket on the shelf beside her as Bug settled down onto the bed he had in one corner.
“Most people I knew would just find more ways to spend money on themselves if they had your problem.”
Amelia smiled. “Clearly, I am not ‘most people.’” She loved her role facilitating folks’ natural generosity.
“You buy all these things to give to people?” He sounded impressed.
“Of course not. I suppose I could, but it’s much better that these come from lots of people. I just got things started. The good folk of Little Horn took it from there.”
Amelia walked over to a shelf. “See these chemistry books? They came from Doc Grainger because Dora Peterson’s boy couldn’t afford the textbooks for his classes down at the community college.” She patted the thick texts. “Now he’ll be all ready to start after the holidays.”
She moved one shelf over to hold up a San Antonio Spurs jersey. “Carson Thorn pulled a string or two to get this for Daniel Bunker’s boy. He’s going through chemo, poor soul, and this’ll be waiting for him after his last treatment.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Sometimes,” she continued, “it’s nothing so dramatic. Sometimes it’s just an electric bill paid, or a bag of groceries at the end of the month, or a package of diapers and some formula.” She looked at Finn. “I meant what I said when I told you Little Horn is a good place for you to be.” She picked up a soup can from the the cart Finn had just wheeled in and placed it on the shelf with half a dozen others. “Sure, this little town can make me crazy some days, but I wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else or doing anything else.
Finn picked up a can of black-eyed peas and did the same. “You run this all by yourself?”
“Of course not, silly.” She picked up a box of spaghetti and put it next to several jars of sauce. “I have a whole committee helping me. And now I have you. Which is just perfect, because none of us can ever reach those top shelves where we keep the toothpaste.” She handed him a tube and cast her eyes up to the higher shelves to illustrate her point. “Who needs a step stool when I’ve got a long, tall cowboy like you to lend a hand?”
Finn actually smiled. It didn’t take a medical degree to see that his best treatment right now was to feel useful.
Amelia decided it was safe to take things a bit further. “If you master this, you’ll get to help with the really fun part—Christmas shopping Friday night out at the mall by the highway.”
Finn stilled, a can still in one hand. “What?”
She chose to ignore the look Finn gave her. “We have to shop out of town so nobody sees what they’re getting for Christmas. Oh, I know you’re not a big fan, but I need someone to help me lug all those toys home from the store. You’ll help, won’t you?”
“You want me to go to a toy store with you? Christmas toy shopping?”
Amelia plucked the can from his hands. “I see no one else lining up to make sure the children get their gifts at the League party. You’re looking at Santa’s chief helper, and I just deputized you into service.”
“Amelia...”
“I promise it won’t be more than four or five hours, tops. Four stores at the most. And when you see those children’s faces...”
“Didn’t you say you have a committee that works with you?”
She sat down on a crate—she was not going to let him give in on this. The man needed to be occupied and she needed the help. “And have to make six people keep secrets so that all the gifts stay a surprise? It was easier last year when Gramps could still push the cart, but Here to Help has always bought the kids’ gifts and that’s not going to stop just because I’m a little short of manpower. Not when I’ve got an able-bodied man with nothing else to do standing right front of me.”
“I hate Christmas.” His declaration grew more Scrooge-like every time he said it.
“I hate doing the paperwork, but it has to be done. It might actually be good for you. Maybe facing down whatever gave you all those bad memories will unlock some good ones. I remember every Christmas gift I ever got—surely you’ll remember one or two as we go.”
“A plaid scarf.” The words seemed to fall out of his mouth, as if his irritation spilled it from somewhere in the back of his brain.
Amelia blinked. “What did you say?”
“I got a plaid scarf one Christmas. Ugly, scratchy thing that I hid in the garage and made up a story about losing it in the woods.” Finn put his hand to his forehead as if struck by the memory. “Why do I remember some stupid detail like that? Why not something important?
Amelia put a hand on his arm. “Go on—what else do you remember?”
He shut his eyes, and she could watch him push past the block in his brain. “Red. I liked whoever gave it to me. Red,” he said again, as if the repetition would command his brain to yield up more.
He pushed out a breath. “Nothing,” he ground out through clenched teeth with his eyes shut. “It’s gone. Nothing.”
“Hey,” Amelia consoled. “It’s not nothing. It’s just not as much as you want.”
“Not even close to as much as I want.” He opened his eyes to look at her, impatience and frustration pulling his features tight. “Why can’t I remember more?”
Amelia tightened her hand on his arm. “You will. Every little bit seems to unlock more. Isn’t that how Dr. Searle said it would be?”
“I can’t stand not knowing.”
“Come with me on Friday. I need your help, and maybe that memory just now means all those presents might trigger more.” When he shook his head, she tugged on his arm like an insistent child. “I need your help, and I think it would be good for you.”
She stood there and waited until he threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, you win. I’ll go. But it’s because you need the help, not because I think it will be good for me.”
Chapter Seven
Amelia had never met anyone who didn’t like Christmas shopping. She had been sure Finn would warm up to the idea as Friday night’s gift hunt went on. After all, she was having loads of fun. “That red one, over there. And two of the blue ones.” She pointed to a display of baseball hats in the sporting-goods section as she consulted her list. “Look at that, we’re almost halfway done.”
Finn looked at the cart, already piled gloriously high with toys, clothes and books. He ran his hand across the back of his neck. “Almost halfway?”
“With this store, yes.” Maybe three stores had been too much. He was still recovering from an accident. Perhaps a stop in the store’s little cafeteria might smooth things over. “Except, I need fries.”
Finn looked around. “I think I saw the grocery items over there.”
“No, silly, I mean I need to eat fries.” She didn’t, really, but Amelia knew suggesting Finn, maybe you need to sit down and rest for a bit would get her nowhere. “They make really good ones here.”
“I suppose I could use a bite to eat and maybe a drink.”
Amelia grabbed the handle of the cart and spun it resolutely in the direction of the snack area. “That settles it. We can finish the other half after I’ve recharged on grease and sugar.”
He stared after her. “I’ve never met a woman who thinks the way you do about food.” He caught up to her and took over cart pushing duties. “’Course, how would I know, right? It’s not like I remember.”
Finn had helped every day this week to stock the shelves at Here to Help, and it had definitely improved his spirits. Maybe he was finally making peace with his condition. He’d still put up a fair show of resistance over shopping tonight, saying he’d already done enough “community service,” but most of that b
luster had worn off in the first hour. He took pot shots at cheesy decorations, but he was genuinely helpful, just like he’d been in the church storeroom. He’d even made thoughtful suggestions for some of the boys. Amelia was glad for his assistance—the cart was heavy and she’d have never made it this far without his help. “Oh, look, there are the DVDs—I’m supposed to get two John Wayne movies for Darren Taylor.”
“There’s a kid who likes John Wayne movies? Do kids these days even know who John Wayne is?”
“Everybody knows who John Wayne is. Even amnesia patients.” A comfortable ease had developed between them over the past few days. She tried not to think about how much she enjoyed his company—there were too many unknowns. Lord, couldn’t I just get an eye for an uncomplicated man for once? Finn belongs to B—or at least he might. Help me guard my heart here. She forced her focus back to the task at hand, scanning through the category dividers. “Westerns, please, not war movies.”
It was wrong that she found Finn’s exaggerated sigh so adorable, and Amelia bent her head over the movie selection even as she heard him flipping through the next rack over. She looked up when she heard him stop, only to see him staring at one, holding it up with an odd look on his face. It had a brash photo of John Wayne in a ’70s suit pointing a gun. “Definitely not that one.”
Finn didn’t move. He just kept staring at the DVD. His breathing sped up and his knuckles went white from clutching the DVD so tightly. She stepped closer to him, alarmed. “Finn, what?”
A Ranger for the Holidays (Lone Star Cowboy League) Page 6