“I hope so,” he said, “but the wait isn’t going to be easy for any of us, especially for my father.”
Adam nodded because there was nothing else to say.
The screen door swung open and Radford stepped onto the porch. He looked years older, and it wasn’t because of the bluish hue of twilight shadows darkening the porch. The man was sick with fear.
“She’s gone again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Doc says there’s no telling how long she’ll be in and out like this, or if she’ll ever get her memory back.” His eyes, raw with pain, drilled into Adam. “She doesn’t even know her own father.”
Despite the pain in Radford’s voice, Adam heard the accusation. This was Adam’s fault. He reminded himself that Radford was in pain, he was scared, and he was angry. Every one of those emotions was justified.
“I know, sir. She doesn’t know her future husband either.” Adam descended the steps, then stopped and turned back. “I’ll return in the morning.” His future wife was here, and he intended to be at her side. But as he headed across the yard, he wondered if Radford would welcome him back.
Adam found Faith asleep in one corner of the camel-back sofa in the parlor, her body curled in slumber. She’d tucked her hands beneath her right cheek and used the sofa’s scrolled arm as a pillow of sorts. That she’d been waiting for him was apparent by the smoldering fire in the fireplace and the pot of coffee he spied on the kitchen stove. He was touched, but not surprised by her concern for him. Faith had always been there for him, especially when she knew he was hurting.
He didn’t want to wake her, but it would be unkind to slip upstairs to bed and leave her sleeping uncomfortably on the sofa.
The smell of coffee, albeit long past fresh, was inviting, so he poured himself a cup of the steamy brew and went to sit in a wingback chair. Scout wandered into the parlor, blinking sleep from his old eyes as he climbed onto Adam’s lap.
“Hey, old friend,” Adam whispered, welcoming the hound. With one hand wrapped around the warm mug and the other stroking Scout’s fur, Adam sat quietly, taking a sip of coffee now and then as his mind and body unwound.
Faith’s soft voice cut into his thoughts. “Any change?” she asked, her sleepy voice hopeful.
He shook his head, noting her loose hair and dark eyes. “Not really. Rebecca woke again, but her words are still confused and... well, she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know any of us.”
Confusion darkened Faith’s brown eyes. “Are you saying she can’t remember names?”
“She can’t remember me. She looked at me as if I were a stranger.” Tears burned behind Adam’s weary eyes. He stared hard at the brown liquid in his cup, willing the stinging moisture away. He couldn’t fall apart. Giving into fear would not help Rebecca. “She doesn’t remember any of us,” he said, settling his aching body deep into the chair.
“Oh, Adam...” Sympathy filled Faith’s voice. Those two words said everything. She was sorry for him, for Rebecca, for her family. She understood that Adam was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. “I should have let your father wait up for you as he’d intended, but I begged him to go to bed an hour ago because he’s working the mill tomorrow. I can’t bear the thought of him working around those saws when he’s so fatigued.”
Adam nodded. “It’s all right, Faith. He needs his sleep. So do you.”
She sat upright and smoothed the front of her dress. “Looks like I’m not the only one around here who has missed you.” She nodded at Scout who lounged across Adam’s thighs, his eyes closed as if he planned to sleep there all night.
Adam scratched his beloved beagle behind the ears. “I’ve missed this little mutt more than I care to admit.” He glanced at Faith. “That sentiment extends to the rest of you as well. It’s been hard to be away from home.”
A melancholy smile touched Faith’s lips. “Likewise, Adam. It’s hard to think that we didn’t know the meaning of the word home until we came to Fredonia. I’m ever thankful that’s the one thing I was able to give you and Cora.”
“As am I,” he said. “I’ll never find an adequate way to repay you for that.”
“You owe me nothing, Adam. You were too young to do anything about your circumstances. It was my job to find a better life for us.”
He shook his head because he couldn’t accept that statement anymore. “No, Faith, it was our mother’s job to get us out of that dreadful place. I don’t want to imagine what our lives would have been like if not for your tremendous courage and quick thinking.”
A shudder passed through her and she snuggled her pretty knit shawl more tightly around her slender shoulders. “Well, those fearful days are gone now, and I choose not to think about them. We have a warm, happy home together, and now we help others find a safe and loving home. That is a far better way to engage my thoughts than to let our past haunt me.”
Adam agreed. After finding Leo and Benny, two runaway orphans, hiding in their greenhouse ten years ago, Adam and Faith had found them a loving home—and Adam had found a lifelong friend in Leo. A friend he wished he could talk with right now.
“Did Doc Milton indicate when Rebecca’s memory would return?” Faith asked pulling Adam’s thoughts away from Leo and the busy world of Crane Landing he’d so recently left behind.
“He didn’t say when. He used the word if.” Adam swallowed a warm gulp of coffee to unlock his tight throat. Saying those words made it more real, more terrifying. If Rebecca didn’t get her memory back, what then?
“Is the doctor questioning whether her memory will return?” Faith asked, her disbelief apparent in her drawn eyebrows and intent stare.
“He doesn’t know.” Adam released a weary sigh and set aside his coffee mug. “It might come back all at once, or in bits and pieces, or... not at all.”
“Oh, dear...” Faith pressed her fingers to her lips as if she had no idea what to say to him.
There were no words.
There were no memories.
But there was one faithful beagle on his lap reminding him that their connection could weather long separations and remain strong. So, too, would the love he shared with Rebecca. They could make it through this storm of pain and confusion together.
Chapter Seven
Cleaving pain jolted Rebecca from sleep, hacking into her head like a relentless hatchet. Her vision blurred and she buried her face in her pillow to block the light streaming through the curtains. Her scalp felt stretched taut and thin over her throbbing skull.
Drawing her knees up, she huddled beneath the bedcovers, trying to find a position that would offer some relief from her debilitating headache. But her writhing-moaning-nauseated self, found no comfort until the doctor arrived with his dose of laudanum.
Sleep was her friend and she sought it often, losing track of day and night and her many visitors.
When she slept, no one expected her to respond to their conversations. She didn’t have to speak or search for words that dangled in fragments and were too slippery to piece together. No one waited for her to say “I remember you.” They simply held her hand or cooled her burning cheeks with a damp cloth and let her seek peace in her quiet, dark world.
But images floated through her head like leaves on a slow moving stream, bobbing in and out of view, tempting her to pluck them up for closer inspection. She imagined that she was the river and those images were her memories, but... they meant nothing to her.
She observed the images as a compassionate bystander, her emotions mirroring those expressed in the pictures. Everything remained outside of her as if she were watching a theater performance and knew nothing about the performers.
The pain, however, lurked inside, fiercely alive and mercilessly demanding.
She welcomed the doctor’s tinctures and slept.
And slept.
When they woke her, she would accommodate their request to sip some water or take the doctor’s tonic. Then she would close her eyes and slip back into her safe, dark place.
The man—Adam—with the strong, comforting hands refused to let her linger there. His voice, gentle but firm, challenged her to sit up and talk with him, to remember him, to remember them.
She didn’t remember.
She didn’t want to talk.
She wanted to lie there and enjoy the gentle stroke of his fingers over her warm cheeks and her aching neck. Because with her eyes closed she felt connected to him and not so alone... not so afraid.
“I fear the doctor may be dosing her a bit heavily,” the older woman said.
Her grandmother. The woman was her grandmother. Rebecca remembered that. Or rather she had learned that.
“Perhaps,” Adam said, “but I suspect she needs a respite from the pain she’s in.”
The woman’s hand pressed gently against Rebecca’s forehead. “Are you awake, sweetheart?”
Rebecca kept her eyes closed, preferring to hide from the world of strangers surrounding her.
“Rebecca Jean, open your eyes this instant,” her grandmother said firmly.
Without a second’s hesitation, Rebecca obeyed.
“Well, then,” her grandmother said, releasing a relieved sigh, “I see you’ve been intentionally avoiding us these past three days. I don’t blame you, sweetheart, but it’s time to get up and face the day before it’s over. Come on,” she said, slipping an arm beneath Rebecca’s shoulders. “Sit up and talk to this handsome young man while I get you some supper. You’re going to start eating and get out of that bed.”
And that was that. For a small woman, her grandmother was quite hardy and efficient. Before Rebecca knew it, she found herself propped in a sitting position with a small glass of water in her scraped hand.
“Sip that until it’s gone,” her grandmother instructed. “I’ll be back shortly.”
A second later, Rebecca was alone with the man who claimed to be her fiancé.
Lifting his eyebrows, he gave her a slanted grin, making him quite charming and approachable. “The longer I know Grandma Grayson, the more I understand how she managed to raise four sons. She apparently got tired of asking long ago and just started giving orders—and woe to those who don’t fall in line.”
Rebecca released her breath, not realizing she’d been holding it. “I’m glad I want to drink this,” she said, glancing down at the water glass in her sore hand.
His warm laugh drew her eyes back to his face. She noticed that when he smiled it was at a slight angle, somewhat boyish and charming. When he laughed, though, he revealed even rows of white teeth and a wide, gorgeous smile. To think that she was engaged to this man stunned her. And terrified her.
She had no reason to doubt that these people were her family, or that she and Adam were engaged as he’d stated, but to her they were all strangers.
“I’d be pleased if you might talk with me a while before your next nap,” he said.
Talk?
“What do you wish to talk about?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse although her words were ordered and coming with a relative ease that pleased her.
“Anything you like,” he said. “We talk about everything, Rebecca. What’s on your mind?”
Gripping the water glass in her left hand, she pressed her fingers to her right throbbing temple. “Sleep. I can’t think of anything just now. It... it hurts my head.”
“That’s all right,” he said, slipping his warm palm over her clenched knuckles. “We won’t have time to talk much. Your family will finish supper soon and they’ll want to spend time with you. I just wanted to hear your voice for a few minutes before I leave.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I shall take pity on you this evening and tell you a story instead.”
Her grip eased on the glass and she lowered her other hand to her lap. “All right,” she said because it was kinder than asking him to leave.
“It was the month of June, when the morning glories twined high around the fence post and the scent of ripe strawberries filled the air,” he began. “We all celebrated your sixteenth birthday at Grandma Grayson’s house. The two of us were nearly giddy because you were finally old enough to court. I was your first and only suitor, of course. We pledged ourselves to each other at thirteen years old, but that night it was as if we’d met for the first time. My Aunt Dahlia chaperoned our outing a couple days later, which your father wasn’t happy about. Your mother won that debate, probably because she had Grandma Grayson on her side.”
Probably, Rebecca thought, remembering and admiring the woman’s take-charge manner.
“We attended a barn dance at the Caveney’s. Do you remember that?” he asked, hope shining in his brown eyes.
Carefully, she shook her achy head, winced, and then reached up to touch the nubby shaved area around her head wound. The bumpy feel of sutures made her stomach queasy, but she was glad to be rid of the linen that had wrapped her head until this morning.
“Several years ago we helped rebuild their house after a kitchen fire. That’s where we came up with the idea for our Sleigh of Hope run that we do each year during the Christmas holiday. You must remember that,” he said, as if the possibility of her not remembering was ludicrous. “Each year Leo and I both come home for our sleigh run, no matter what,” he said. “The three of us take a turn at managing the sleigh and team while the other two deliver the baskets and pails filled with food and herbal remedies and clothing, even bedding. Our whole family gets involved. Do you recall what we delivered at Mrs. Redburn’s house last year?” he asked, his eyes sparkling as if they were about to head out on that exciting sleigh run right now.
“No, Adam.” Gingerly, she shook her aching head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
His smile faded. “You don’t remember what we delivered? Or you don’t remember our annual Sleigh of Hope run?”
“I can’t remember anything,” she said with exasperation. “What happened to me?” Frustration choked her. She studied her scraped hands. “I hurt everywhere. The woman—my... mother—said I fell off my horse.” She met his eyes, feeling an urge to lean into his arms and shelter within them. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Oh, darling...” He captured her free hand in his. “You were bringing me lunch at the mill. Your horse got spooked and you tumbled off backward and hit your head.”
He ran his thumb over her knuckles as if he’d done it hundreds of times. It felt nice yet decidedly awkward, as if she were allowing a stranger the liberty of fondling her hand. Yet he wasn’t a stranger really. They’d known each other for years. Years she didn’t remember. “Did I bring your lunch often?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his dark gaze roving her face. “I was away much of the last six years. You brought lunch to the mill to celebrate with me. I was finally home for good and we were planning to move up our wedding to that evening, but...”
He let the words trail off, and she sat open-mouthed. She’d been told that he was her fiancé, but not that she’d missed their wedding day. To know they were so in love and were going to marry that very evening was... unnerving. She had no memories of this man. She didn’t know him.
He leaned back on the dressing table bench that he’d placed beside her bed. He straddled the seat, his long legs and manly body dwarfing the spindle legged stool. “You initially wanted to get married beneath the oak tree out front. You planned to invite most of the village to attend our nuptials,” he said, grinning and shaking his head. “But when I came home we decided we didn’t want to wait another month to marry. We planned to tell your parents and take our vows that evening.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “We were going to spend the first month of our marriage at Crane Landing.”
Heart pounding, she asked, “What is Crane Landing?”
Again, she could see the disappointment in his eyes. “It’s a beautiful place you’ll love the minute you see it,” he said. “When we marry, I’ll take you there for a few weeks. I know you’ll need some time to heal, Rebecca, but is it still your wish to keep our origin
al wedding date? That’s only three weeks from now.”
Her wish? This man was incredibly handsome and kind, but... she didn’t want to marry anyone. “My only wish is that my head would stop pounding,” she whispered, wanting to sink back into the peaceful darkness where she wouldn’t be ordered about or have to participate in conversations that made her stomach queasy.
“I’m sorry,” he said tenderly. “However unintentional, I’ve been thoughtless. You need rest, not a dozen questions from me. I’ll let you be now, Rebecca.”
Before he could stand, her grandmother bustled into the room with two supper plates in her hands. She ordered Adam and Rebecca to eat while she tidied up the room.
Rebecca picked at their meal of roast venison, pickled beets, and boiled potatoes, while Adam told her about some ship he’d helped build at a place called Crane Landing.
She had nothing to say because her mind was a black void littered with fragments of meaningless images. She couldn’t marry him.
She wouldn’t.
Chapter Eight
“Mama, please send him away,” Rebecca pleaded, when her mother announced that Adam was waiting in the parlor for her.
Ten days had passed since her accident, and although her pain had lessened and she was growing stronger each day, she was restless and irritable. She simply couldn’t bear another day of witnessing the disappointment in Adam’s eyes when she couldn’t remember their past or him—because it made her ache to know she had lost so much.
“Are you certain you can’t visit with him for a while?” her mother asked, standing in the doorway of Rebecca’s bedroom, a damp, kitchen linen draped over her forearm. “He says he’s excited to share something with you.”
Rebecca raised her hands as if to ward off any more love stories from the fiancé she didn’t know. The man was breaking her heart and making her head ache. “I can’t breathe when I’m with him, Mama. He tries so hard and... I want to remember, but nothing comes. It’s just a black hole of... nothing.” She buried her face in her shaking hands, her level of distress making her want to weep. “Please, Mama. I can’t bear to see him today.”
My Forever Love Page 7