The gentle stroke of her mother’s hand over her sore shoulder made Rebecca choke back a sob. She was a mess inside and out.
“Get dressed, sweetheart. After I send Adam off, I want to show you something.”
Rebecca cast a surprised look at the gentle, loving woman whose loving care had kept her from breaking into a million pieces. “You’ll send him away?” she asked.
“Yes, but I think you’ll want to see him again, and probably soon,” her mother said, her voice reassuring.
Rebecca doubted it, but she said, “All right. I’ll be down shortly.”
“Do you need help dressing?”
“No, Mama. I can do it myself.”
Her mother’s soft laughter floated across the bedroom like the spring breeze drifting in the open balcony door. The sound surprised Rebecca and lightened her spirit in an odd way.
“You used those same words when you were a little girl learning to dress yourself. Hearing them now reminded me what a little darling you were and how lucky I was to be blessed with such a beautiful daughter.”
Stunned, Rebecca sat on her bed gazing up at this woman she gladly called mother. “I suspect I was the lucky one,” she said, softly, “but thank you, Mama.”
Her mother kissed the top of her head and then left the room.
Rebecca sat alone for several minutes, rubbing the patch of clipped hair on the back of her head, absorbing what had happened and how the exchange with her mother, albeit a bit awkward, made her feel less alone. Not recognizing the people around her made her feel lost. She wanted to withdraw from their watchfulness and the hopeful gleam in their eyes. She wanted to place her palms over her ears and shut out their stream of stories and past conversations she was supposed to remember but couldn’t. Only her mother kept the conversation in the present moment, except for her most recent comment. She didn’t push Rebecca to remember anything. She gave her space to think and seek signs that she truly belonged in this family.
Gingerly, Rebecca eased out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. The thick rug felt nice beneath her bare feet. After making use of the pedestal lavatory, she turned brass knobs to draw a bath in the enameled tub. When she’d finished bathing, she wrapped herself in her robe and then parted the tasseled drapes to peek outside. A sunny day greeted her. Family friends and neighbors had brought food throughout the week to express their concern and wish Rebecca well, but the parade of people had undoubtedly made more work for her mother. Tomorrow Rebecca would find a way to help her mother. The thought of having a few chores to occupy her mind brightened Rebecca’s mood. She just needed to get out of bed and do something. Helping her mother would be a benefit for both of them.
But dressing herself unaided proved to be much more of a challenge, however, when her head pounded and she wobbled on her feet. She’d been out of bed to use the water closet and to sit in the parlor for a spell each day, but always with the assistance of her mother. Managing to bathe and dress herself was exhausting. She fumbled with her garments and grew frustrated. But when she thought about herself as the little girl her mother remembered, her ineptness made her smile. She could dress herself, even if she didn’t do a very good job. Perhaps she could relearn everything. For a moment, the thought excited her.
Then she realized the enormity of the task and tossed her brush onto the dressing table in resignation.
Her mother leaned in the doorway. “Ready to go?”
“Is Adam gone?” Rebecca asked, not wanting to face him after begging her mother to send him away.
“Yes, darling. He understands and says he’ll call again tomorrow.”
A reprieve of one day was less than Rebecca had hoped for, but she was glad for whatever moments of peace she was granted.
Her balance was still precarious, but she made her way downstairs with the assistance of her mother’s arm and the sturdy oak railing. Three of her siblings sat in the clean, sunshine-filled kitchen. They greeted her with smiles and then hurried outside to play. Her mother made her eat a hardboiled egg and a biscuit slathered with butter before they, too, went outside.
For the first time in more than a week, Rebecca enjoyed her first step outside.
Seconds passed as she stood on the painted pine slats of their wide porch with her eyes closed, feeling the sunshine on her face and the lilac scented air filling her lungs. The sound of her siblings giggling and calling to each other drifted to her, but they were distant and non-threatening.
So this was the sound of home...
Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw the man who claimed to be her father leading a horse out of the livery.
He looked up with surprise and gladness filling his expression.
Instinctively, she drew back worried he would greet her with the warmth he bestowed on all his children. Knowing her lack of recognition would wound him made her feel sick inside. She didn’t want to hurt any of the kind people who were doing their best to help her recover.
“It’s all right, Rebecca,” her mother said, taking her arm and guiding her down the steps. “I’ve already told your father that this is our time. He’s happy enough just knowing you’re up and around today.”
So together they walked toward the paddock attached to the livery. As they passed him, her father nodded to acknowledge her and winked as if to say he’d gotten the message to stay away.
Her face heated and she felt small for pushing him away. She was pushing them all away, but she couldn’t help it. Being in the midst of so many strangers, however warm-hearted and kind was... stifling. She couldn’t think, or breathe, with so many conversations and details assaulting her brain.
“Where are we going?” she asked, pulling her thoughts back to the glorious day and the small respite she’d been granted.
Her mother stopped beside the split rail fence of the paddock. “Right here,” she said, leaning her elbows on the fence and gazing into the paddock where several horses roamed.
The peaceful destination of their outing relieved Rebecca. She draped her forearms on the fence rail and admired the gleaming, magnificent animals grazing and frolicking in the greening field. A black mare lifted her head, flared her nostrils, then pivoted on her shod hooves and trotted across the pasture toward them.
Rebecca’s heart soared and she extended her hand to the approaching horse. “Hello, girl,” she said, as the mare pressed its white-starred forelock into her waiting palm. Rubbing her hands over the mare’s firm, sleek neck, Rebecca placed a kiss in the center of the white star, her heart filled with love and relief. “I’ve missed you.”
For several seconds she and the horse nuzzled each other, and for the first time since awakening to a world of strangers, Rebecca felt connected to another living being. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping them away. “I’ve just been feeling so... so lost.”
“I know,” her mother said quietly, rubbing her hand over Rebecca’s back. “I had a feeling you would remember Star. She’s yours.”
Sniffing, Rebecca, dragged her fingertips beneath her eyes, wiping away her tears. “I didn’t remember her name.”
“But you remembered her essence. You felt a connection with her. You knew her, Rebecca.”
She had felt all of that, but she hadn’t remembered her mare’s name. It was the same feeling she experienced with Adam—until she’d opened her eyes. “Why I can’t remember anything? I can’t even remember my family or... or my fiancé,” she said, slapping her palm on the railing.
The horse flinched and back-stepped three paces.
“I’m sorry, girl. It’s all right,” Rebecca cooed, instantly regretting her outburst. She lifted her hands to the horse and clucked softly. “Come, Star. Come on, girl. It’s all right.”
As the horse moved back to the rail, showing her trust, Rebecca lovingly stroked the mare’s neck.
“She knows you,” her mother said. “She doesn’t know your name either, but she knows you. And you know her. Perhaps
instead of trying to remember our names you should simply feel your connection with those around you. You are surrounded by love, Rebecca, and there’s no need to feel anxious or afraid.”
The idea filled Rebecca with hope. If she could connect with others as she had with her mare, perhaps she could begin to remember them. Perhaps she could anticipate her fiancé’s visits with joy rather than dread. She wanted to feel like the girl— like the woman—he talked about with such devotion rather than like an imposter intruding on his private life.
For three days Adam had been turned away at Rebecca’s door. She needed a few days to herself, her mother had said, but Adam wondered if Radford might have something to do with that decision. They had worked the mill together without incident, but they, and their crew, carried on without their usual lighthearted banter. Every man there understood the seriousness of Rebecca’s injury and the pain it was causing her and her family.
All Adam understood was that the woman he loved needed to be rescued from the fear and sense of loss she was experiencing. She didn’t deserve any of this pain or heartache.
And so he’d stayed away to give her time to rest and recover without feeling she was being hauled back into their relationship. Putting himself in her place, Adam realized how unnerving it must feel for her to be engaged to a man she didn’t know. It unnerved him, too, but in a much different way. What if she never got her memory back?
The thought was unbearable, so he shoved it from his mind. He lifted three long planks onto the pallet and grunted from the effort.
Boyd stopped to help stack the last few pieces of lumber. “You’re going to get a sore back working like this.”
“I need the hard labor today.”
“But you won’t want the backache tonight, so ease up.” Boyd nudged Adam’s shoulder. “Don’t be a hardhead like me. Manhandling this lumber isn’t going to solve anything.”
“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that,” Adam said. “With that skill you might have made a good lawman like Duke.”
Boyd laughed, his teeth catching the sunlight as he shoved his damp brown hair off his forehead. “Can you imagine me a lawman?”
“Based on your character? Yes. Based on your personality? No.”
Boyd laughed again. “Sad but true. I’m more likely to cause trouble than stop it.” His smile faded and he locked his perceptive gaze on Adam. “Rebecca’s accident wasn’t your fault. Stop punishing yourself over this. It won’t help anything.”
Boyd could have smacked Adam with one of the eight-foot pieces of cut lumber and stunned him less.
“Adam, she came to the lumberyard on a busy day,” Boyd continued, “and she made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not her fault. Not yours. It was an accident.”
Adam shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let her come here—”
“That wasn’t your decision,” Boyd said, cutting him off. “Rebecca’s been coming to the mill since she was four years old. She knows the dangers. She’s been told numerous times to stay near the gate or to make sure she’s with one of us. She’s as hardheaded as her father.”
“Radford knows that Rebecca came here to bring me lunch. She wouldn’t have been here if not for me.”
“Radford is scared sideways. He can’t think past the end of his nose right now, and that’s why Kyle, Duke, and I are going to send him back to the livery tomorrow. Until his head is clear, it’s too dangerous for him to be here.”
Adam’s gut clenched, knowing this would be another thing Radford could blame him for. “Why not just put him on a safe job?”
“Because we couldn’t enforce that without a fight, and we’ve had enough of those brotherly dramas. None of the crew will argue with Radford about where he can work. With Rebecca unable to manage the livery, it makes sense for Radford to step in there full time, plus he’ll be at home with her, so we’ll use that excuse and hope he goes along.”
Adam nodded. Radford enjoyed blacksmithing and doing a little of the livery work, but his heart was at the mill. Adam knew this because of the many conversations he’d had with Radford about the Grayson lumber mill. But maybe, hopefully, he would find comfort being home with Rebecca close at hand.
Boyd clapped Adam’s shoulder and gave him a small shake. “You listening to me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Adam stepped back and gave his uncle his full attention.
“Radford and Rebecca are scared and neither of them can think clearly right now,” Boyd said. “You need to lead them through this. Be strong and be solid. For both of them.”
Boyd’s advice made sense, but Adam wasn’t sure how to lead when he felt as lost as the rest of them.
“Ease up now so you don’t injure yourself,” Boyd said. “We don’t need another accident.” With that, he shouldered his hand ax and headed across the yard.
Turning back to the cut lumber, Adam began stacking another pallet of quartersawn oak for the Wyatt Furniture job. He would call on Rebecca this evening—and he wouldn’t be sent away without seeing her.
For the balance of the day he immersed himself in stacking lumber and moving timber, planning what he would say to Rebecca, what he might do to assuage her discomfort with him and their relationship, what he would do if Radford tried to send him away.
Men talked and shouted across the mill. Horses snorted, their harnesses creaking as they worked. Saws and hammers and rattling chains, undercut by the intermittent scream of the circular saw, created a familiar backdrop at the mill, and Adam lost himself in his work. By day’s end, beads of sweat streaked down his forehead and his shirt was drenched, but he was full of purpose and determination as he laid down his hand maul and walked home. He would clean up, eat supper with his family, and then introduce himself to Rebecca Grayson.
The porch had become a haven for Rebecca, especially during the night when her family slept and she crept through the house, her mind barraged with images and fragments she couldn’t understand. Nightly she was driven from her bed by nauseating headaches. Doc Milton said her sleepless, restless nights were a symptom of her injury and that they would lessen as she healed. But she wasn’t healing.
She was harassed by headaches and tortured by disturbing thoughts and her own inability to remember any part of her life from before her accident.
Nightly, she sought sanctuary on the porch, finding herself there more often than not.
This evening, the scent of lilacs and fresh air and birdsong soothed her nerves and eased her headache. Everyone had returned to work or school, leaving her home alone with her mother and little Emma during the day and in a much calmer state of mind when they returned home at day’s end.
Today had been a repeat of all other days. Awake before dawn, her day was well underway when the others got up. She spent some time in the livery grooming horses while her father managed their customers and the heavy chores like cleaning stalls. Afterward, she took a nap and then helped her mother prepare supper.
Conversation was a bit overwhelming during supper, but there was something endearing about each of her siblings that made Rebecca feel connected to them whether she actually remembered them or not. Will and Joshua were quite the young men, each filled with big dreams that made their father laugh and their mother cringe. Tyler and Hannah listened with one ear trained on the adult conversation and the other on the giggling chatter between Sarah and Emma whose main topic focused on catching frogs and crawfish in the creek that ran through the apple orchard.
Rebecca had nothing to say. She had no memories and no dreams to share.
She had only emptiness and pain, which would have further burdened them.
So she’d said nothing.
The awkwardness and discomfort had driven her to the porch after supper. From the porch, she studied the world around her, hoping she might recognize the massive oak in the yard or the rope swing Emma and Sarah were playing on. Her gaze traveled beyond them to the orchard and low-limbed apple trees. Apparently, she had spent
many hours of her life playing there, her parents assured her, but she didn’t remember a minute of it.
The sound of someone climbing the porch steps broke her reverie. The pace was too slow for the girls, who seemed to run wherever they went. She expected to see Tyler, who was a deep thinker and moved through his day with a studious, keen attention that required a slower pace. But it wasn’t Tyler or any of her siblings.
It was Adam.
She started to stand, thinking she would tell him that she was unwell and must retire to her room, but not a word crossed her lips because the truth was she was curious about him.
He reached out and clasped her hand in his warm grip. “Hello. I’m Adam Dearborn. I’m thirteen years old and I’ve never seen a more beautiful girl than you, ReBECca,” he said, his voice breaking in an odd manner. “My voice is changing, my feet are too big, and I don’t feel worthy of even touching your hand.” He grinned. “Thankfully, you have no reservations about befriending a mop-haired, clumsy boy who has nothing to offer you.”
“W-what?” she asked, at a loss.
“Today I hauled firewood for our stove, washed my face, and tried to get out of the house before Faith combed my hair. I pulled on my torn jacket and headed to the gorge, because that’s my favorite place and because I wanted to get out of working the greenhouse. The sheriff was there again, and I didn’t want him to see me and give me another lecture.”
“Adam, I’m not following.” Rebecca shook her head, wondering if her thoughts were scrambling again.
“Your uncle Duke is trying to court my sister, Faith. I don’t like him much because he caught me stealing a brush from Brown and Shepherd’s store.”
“Perhaps it’s my headache,” she said, touching her temple.
A crooked grin tilted his mouth. “I’m thirteen years old and all I can think about is a brown-eyed girl named Rebecca Grayson.”
My Forever Love Page 8