Found: His Perfect Wife

by Marie Ferrarella

  Feeling restless and needing a little space between them, Alison rose and crossed to the same window he’d been looking through. She stared at the beads of moisture on the pane. Rain tears racing one another down to the bottom of the sill. It seemed as if it had rained a little almost every day of her life.

  “There’s something to be said for that. I’m about ready to leave.”

  “The room?”

  “No.” Alison looked at him over her shoulder. “Seattle.”

  Leaving. Everyone’s always leaving, moving somewhere else. But that’s not for me.

  The sound of his own voice echoed in his head. But he hadn’t said that just now. When? When had he said it? Rousing himself, he realized she was looking at him. Waiting. He tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.

  “Where are you moving to?”

  She shrugged, letting the curtain fall back into place. “I don’t know yet.” Alison thought of the letters on her desk in response to her inquires. Letters from all over the country and beyond. She had her choice of places, but none felt exactly right yet. “Some place where I’m needed. Some place where I can make a real difference, not just be one of a crowd.” Crossing back to him, she noticed that he hadn’t even attempted to put his hands on the keyboard. Probably didn’t figure in prominently into his life, then. The computer enthusiasts she knew took their laptops to bed with them and fell asleep typing. “I’ve put in applications to various isolated areas where nurses are really needed.”

  “Isolated?” The word shimmered in front of him, on the verge of triggering something. He could only hang on for the ride if it did.

  “Yes.”

  It was still out of reach. He needed help, a push in the right direction, but he had no idea what that was. He kept her talking. “Like how?”

  She ran the addresses she’d typed through her head. “Like Third World countries, like the Appalachians.” She’d seen brochures that wrenched her heart. “There are places even in this country that desperately need medical professionals.”

  Luc stopped trying to remember. He focused on her. “So you’re volunteering.”

  Volunteers worked without being paid. Well, wouldn’t you almost be doing that? Alison heard Lily’s voice in her head.

  “It amounts to something close to that,” she allowed. The people who answered her letters tried to paint the best pictures they could, but there was no denying that conditions there made the words low pay sound synonymous with affluence because there was really so little that the local residents had. “Room and board, minimum wages, awful conditions.” In some cases, running water was a luxury. She hoped she was up to it.

  She seemed a little uncertain about it, despite her words. The computer and his own mental odyssey were put on hold. “Then why do it?” he asked.

  For a number of reasons. She gave him the most practical one. “To get my credentials.”

  He had no idea what was involved in becoming a nurse, but it didn’t seem to make sense to require this kind of hardship. “Has to be an easier way.”

  There was. She could have applied to work at a local clinic, or with someone in private practice. Jimmy had made the suggestion more than once. “I’m not interested in easier, I’m interested in helping.”

  He smiled. “People in Seattle get sick, too.”

  That was exactly what Kevin had said to her. She gave Luc the same answer she’d given her brother. “People in Seattle have choices as to who they want to go to. Some of the places I applied to don’t even have one medical person to turn to for—”

  “A hundred-mile radius.” Again, he was echoing something he’d heard, something that had hooked up with the words that came before. Something out of a life he still didn’t remember having.

  “I was going to say miles and miles, but yes, for a hundred-mile radius, if not more.” He had that same look again, as if he were existing on two different planes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not just second-guessing me?” She studied his expression, wishing she knew how to help. “Do you know one of these places firsthand?”

  “Maybe.” But if he did, he didn’t know he knew. “Or maybe you’re just making all this so vivid for me, I can see it through your eyes.” He rose from the chair slowly, feeling that same spark again. Wondering why it echoed with loneliness when he did. “You’ve got beautiful eyes, you know that?”

  Lifting her shoulder in a careless shrug, she looked away. Telling herself she wasn’t afraid to look into his eyes. “They serve their function.”

  “They do more than that.” Being very careful to only touch the point of her chin, he drew her eyes back to his. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you before.”

  He seemed so sincere. The fear drifted away. “You didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Because he wasn’t.

  She wasn’t eleven anymore. There were times she had to remind herself of that. She’d taken a great many precautions to prevent being in that sort of situation again. She could take care of herself now. Not like then. “If I’d have thought you were trying to take advantage of me, you would have found yourself hermetically imbedded in the floor.”

  The way she’d raised her chin almost made him laugh. Instinctively he knew that would have been the worst thing he could have done. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am more than a little taller than you are. And more than a little bigger.”

  She’d noticed, all right. Noticed far too much about this man she’d taken into her house. Noticed more than made her comfortable. And now that he’d kissed her…

  Nothing. Now that he’d kissed her, there was no change, no impression, no veering off course, she insisted silently. “That can be used against you, you know. Height and weight.”

  “Martial arts?”

  The mind really was a mysterious thing, arbitrarily selecting what it chose to remember and not remember, she thought. “You know about that. Interesting. I feel like I should go trolling through your brain just to find out what else is hidden in the recesses of your mind that you don’t know about.”

  “As long as you promise to be gentle.”

  She laughed and pointed to the computer. “Just see if anything feels familiar to you.” When he merely looked back at the screen, she placed her hands over his and put them on the keyboard.

  The electricity that tiptoed through her was unexpected, waking up every nerve ending in her body from point of origin outward. Rousing something formless and shadowy within her, something she didn’t understand and didn’t want to examine.

  “Maybe touching it will remind you of something,” she coaxed, trying to keep her voice from sounding shaky.

  It reminded him of nothing. But the feel of her hand on top of his stirred that same bittersweetness inside. And there was more. “What kind of perfume is that?”

  “What?” When she turned her head, she realized that their faces were much too close. That she was much too close.

  “The scent you’re wearing.” He took a breath and let it fill his head. It soothed the dark corners that existed. “It’s been teasing me all day.”

  Without meaning to, she sniffed. Alison couldn’t detect anything unusual. If there was perfume in her clothes or on her skin, she’d long since become oblivious to it. She tried to remember if she’d put any on this morning before dashing out of the house. Nothing gelled. “I don’t think I’m wearing any.”

  Maybe it was her hair that smelled so enticing. Or just her skin. “Then I think maybe you should put a dead bolt on your door because if that’s just you, someone’s going to try to kidnap you for your secret.” The scent was captivating and just the slightest bit distracting. Not unlike the woman herself, he thought.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” Alison murmured. Tapping the monitor, she drew his attention back to the business at hand. “The computer.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He leaned back in the chair, preferring to look at her than the computer. “Why don’t you run a program or
a game for me and I’ll see if anything seems familiar.”

  It sounded reasonable enough, she supposed. Bringing up the list of programs, she selected a popular one that was dedicated to word processing, thinking it might be familiar to him.

  “What do you call it?”

  She indicated the top of the screen where the name was written. “That’s—”

  “No, I mean your hair. What do you call it?”

  “Hair?” she suggested innocently.

  His smile was wide and engaging. “No, the color. Is it sable? Chocolate? Chestnut?”

  She pulled a curly strand in front of her, examining it as if she’d never seen it before. “I don’t know, I never gave it much thought. Chestnut, I guess.” Her eyes met his. “You’re not paying attention.”

  “Yes,” he contradicted, “I am.”

  The answer made her feel fidgety.

  When morning arrived, it found her groggy. Though she’d turned in fairly early, Alison had amassed less than four hours’ sleep, having spent most of the night searching for a comfortable spot on her mattress. And failing.

  They’d made no progress last night, at least not so far as his memory was concerned. When her brothers came home, they each had tried their hand at prompting Luc’s memory, also to no avail. When they finally all went to bed, Luc’s past was still a sealed mystery.

  But it wasn’t his past she was thinking of when she’d gone to bed. It was the very near present.

  The kiss they’d shared preyed on her mind, unearthing a multitude of emotions that loomed even larger in the dark. She felt ill equipped to greet another day.

  What she needed more than anything was a shower.

  As she stumbled out into the hall, she heard her brothers’ voices coming up through the vent. They were in the kitchen, deep in discussion over the Mariners’ chances of making the play-offs this year or at least landing in the wild card position. She heard Kevin complain that life hadn’t been the same since their star pitcher had left the team.

  Good. If they were talking, that meant she would have the shower all to herself. Neither Kevin or Jimmy could form a coherent word until after their morning showers. When it came down to it, none of the Quintanos had ever been known to hit the ground bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It took the combined effort of a cold, bracing shower and a large mug of hot, black coffee to bring them around to the world of the living.

  Right now she felt light-years away from her goal.

  Wishing her mouth tasted of something other than sawdust, Alison placed her hand on the bathroom doorknob and turned it. The door didn’t give. Terrific, it was stuck again. For about the last month or so, the door had been giving her more and more trouble, and in both directions. She was just as likely to get stuck inside the bathroom as well as outside it. Busy studying for finals, she’d asked Kevin, then Jimmy to see about fixing it. She should have known better.

  If you want a thing done…

  She’d play handywoman later, Alison told herself. Right now she needed that shower or she was going to curl up and die. An extra-cold one. Because in addition to spending a mostly sleepless night, when she’d finally fallen asleep she’d had a dream about Luc. It was the kind of a dream she didn’t have. Ever. A warm, physical dream. Those were for other women who looked forward to the physical aspect of a relationship, who looked forward to marriage and a happy life.

  There’d been a time when she’d actually thought about it, believed she was even capable of it. Of being normal. She felt that all her inhibitions and fears would disappear once she was married. But then she’d married Derek and he’d proven her wrong. The marriage had been a disaster from the moment the vows were exchanged. She’d been a disaster, cringing at his very touch. The whole marriage ran aground within a few months. But only after she’d amassed an endless supply of soul-wrenching belittling that always began in their bedroom and escalated from there.

  She didn’t need to do this to herself again, especially not when she was only half-conscious, half-capable of warding off the waves of inadequacy that accompanied the memories.

  Putting her shoulder to the door, Alison pushed hard. The door flew open.

  The next thing to open was her mouth. Wide. The bathroom wasn’t empty the way she’d thought. Luc was in it. His presence filled out every corner. He was toweling his hair dry and wearing only beads of water.

  For the first time in years, she was completely, utterly wide-awake without the benefit of water. Alison might have been a nurse and accustomed to seeing people without their clothes on, but that was within the framework of a hospital where she was putting textbook knowledge and hands-on experience into play. It certainly had never been within the confines of a steam-filled bathroom in her own home.

  The word magnificent shrieked across her brain like the whine of a plane breaking the sound barrier.

  Somewhere, Michelangelo’s David was slinking off in shame.

  With a strangled sound, Alison pulled the door shut, blocking out the view and leaving herself on the other side. Her heart was pounding like a drum.

  It took her a second to find her tongue and another to get it into working order.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I was half-asleep—the door—I thought it was just stuck.”

  She heard him laughing on the other side of the door. Her stomach tightened, clenching. Refusing to let her breathe. How could that sound so sexy to her, given the situation?

  It sounded sexy because of the situation, she pointed out silently, irritated with herself for stumbling in like that. More irritated with herself because of the reaction she was experiencing. She’d wanted to remain in the room, to stare at him until every hard contour of his muscular body was indelibly etched into her brain.

  It probably was anyway.

  That man was missing and no one was trying to find him? She couldn’t make herself believe that.

  A weakness crept into her knees. Needing support, she leaned against the door and almost fell in when it opened again the next minute. Her first thought was that she really should close her eyes.

  They stayed open.

  Luc’s hair was still wet, plastered to his head. The change of clothing she’d given him last night, courtesy of Jimmy, had been hastily thrown on a body that was faintly damp. Everything clung to him. It made him almost as unsettling to look at as he’d been a couple of seconds ago.

  He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. If she were any pinker, she’d look like cotton candy come to life. The way the realization affected him, he figured he had to have a weakness for cotton candy. “It’s all yours.”

  Her mind was a blank. As blank as his probably had been yesterday. “Mine?”

  Luc gestured behind him at the room he’d just vacated. “The bathroom.”

  “Oh. Right.” She felt like the embodiment of a dimwitted Valley Girl. “Um, thanks.”

  Unable to say anything coherent, she quickly closed the door and locked it. The next moment, she moved the hamper up against the door. It wasn’t much of an impedance, but it would make a warning noise. Just in case.

  Embarrassment was still shadowing her every move when Alison entered the kitchen. Embarrassment for him and for herself. And at what her brothers would say once they got wind of what had happened. If they hadn’t already.

  Braced, she kept her head high as she walked in.

  Kevin and Jimmy merely nodded in her direction, too busy eating to verbally acknowledge her presence. Maybe Luc hadn’t said anything.

  And then she noticed the table. Instead of the customary toaster waffles or bowls of cereal that they normally had for breakfast, there were huge, plate-sized pancakes, melting pats of butter and absorbing rivers of syrup on each of their plates. Another platter stood on the warming tray Lily had forgotten to take with her when she moved out. The smell permeating the kitchen was heavenly.

  Alison glanced around, jumping to the only logical conclusion. “Is Lily here?”

  “No, bu
t Luc is.” Finished, Jimmy helped himself to a second serving. “Did you know Luc could cook?”

  Luc dismissed the enthusiasm in Jimmy’s voice. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Kevin snorted. “Hell, if you were a woman, I would have proposed by now.” Sighing his contentment, Kevin moved a plate aside and reached for the French toast.

  Now that she noticed, there were waffles on the counter, too. The kind made from scratch. Almost dreading what the sink had to look like in the aftermath of this cooking fest, she slowly slanted her eyes toward it. And got another surprise. Unless he’d thrown them all away, there were no dishes, no dirty pans, nothing.

  The man was a wizard in more ways than one.

  He also had that strange look on his face again.

  “Luc, what’s the matter?” Kevin asked, concerned. Luc’s jaw had slackened and he was staring at Kevin in the strangest way, as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

  “Hey, I was only kidding about that proposing thing. I didn’t mean for you to think that I was—”

  But Luc didn’t hear him. He was hearing something else, a voice in his head, triggered by what Kevin had said.

  The voice belonged to his cousin Ike.

  Chapter Six

  Like someone caught standing beneath a giant house of cards that had suddenly come tumbling down, everything came flying in at Luc from all different directions. Faces, words, whole sections of memories rushed at him.

  He remembered.

  Everything.

  “Luc, are you all right?”

  The voice, melodious and sweet, broke through the elation encasing him. Luc raised his eyes to see Alison looking at him. For just a second, he found himself captivated by the light and the concern he saw in her eyes.

  Slowly a smile curved over his lips. The smile of a man who knew exactly who he was again. “I’m terrific.”

  “Is that you bragging, or—?” Alison’s question faded away as the look in his eyes registered. The same empathy she’d felt for him before now brought with it a surge of excitement. “You remember, don’t you?”