“You’re suffering heat exhaustion and seeing things, my dear. We need to get you to bed.”
“Nonsense,” Rebecca said with a laugh.
“Honey, you hit your head hard enough to not know your own name. I’m sorry, but there was no lady on the beach.”
Rebecca turned and looked, but saw only the two men dragging their skiff onto the sand. The woman was gone. She looked up and down the beach and even let her gaze rove into the rolling waves washing ashore to see if perhaps the lady had gone for a swim, but she was nowhere in sight. “How... odd. She was just this side of those men bringing in the skiff.”
“The sun is too much for you, honey.”
Again Rebecca scanned the shoreline then looked again out into the crystal water of the bay. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said, feeling as if she’d just lost a moment of real beauty in her life. Was it really possible she had imagined the woman?
As her father approached, she looked up into his eyes wishing he could rescue her memories and return her life.
“What troubles you?” he asked, his brows drawn with worry that matched the concern on Adam’s face.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Adam said. He shifted his stance, as if struggling to keep himself from pulling her into the comforting circle of his arms.
“Maybe I did, but the woman was so beautiful and alive, I want her to be real,” she whispered.
“What woman?” her father asked.
Rebecca told him about the exotic woman.
By the change in Adam’s expression, he had just glimpsed that same ghost.
Instead of touring the shipyard and learning about shipbuilding, Rebecca was forced to rest for an hour. Her grandmother suggested she lie down, but Rebecca wasn’t tired. She was eaten up with curiosity... and worry.
The woman on the beach had been so colorful, so vibrantly alive, she had to be a real person—because if she wasn’t real... Rebecca didn’t want to consider what that would mean. The truth pushed its way forward anyhow. Maybe it was another episode like the one with the woman on the train. If Rebecca was indeed seeing things that weren’t real, then her head injury had not only stolen her past but would jeopardize her future as well. People who saw things others did not were sent to an asylum. People who had irrational thoughts about those they loved were considered mentally unstable.
It seemed to be in her best interest to keep her visions and her thoughts to herself—for now.
After her forced respite, she ate a light lunch at the inn with her grandmother. Then, as they walked to Doc Samuel’s residence, she silently debated whether or not to tell the doctor about her odd dreams and the woman on the beach.
Doc Samuel didn’t leave the decision up to her.
The tall and lanky man, gray-haired with a protruding mustache, started his examination by peering at her from above his spectacles that sat halfway down his nose. “Your fiancé paid me a visit late this morning,” he said, gesturing for her to sit on a high padded stool. “He was deeply concerned about an episode you experienced this morning, one that is eerily similar to that of Dawson Crane.”
“What kind of episode?” Rebecca asked. “And who is Dawson Crane?”
The doctor didn’t mince words. “Dawson suffered a severe head injury, much like you have, and shortly after he claimed to have seen a red-haired woman walking along the beach.”
“Then she is real,” Rebecca murmured, feeling immense relief and satisfaction.
Doc Samuel shrugged. “Can’t say. You and Dawson are the only two folks who have seen any such woman—and you have each sustained a significant head injury.”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “Are you suggesting we see things that are not real?”
“I’m suggesting that it is a queer coincidence.”
“Doctor, the woman was real. I can still see her bare feet splashing through the water. Her hair was a long blaze of red flowing down her back. I’ve never seen anyone so... so magnificent.” She faced the doctor with certainty. “I saw her with my eyes not my imagination.”
“All right then, let it rest for now and I’ll see if we can help you sleep better at night.”
“Adam told you about that, too?” she asked, her irritation ratcheting up a notch.
“Your father did. There are many people who love you and want to help you get better.”
“So it appears,” she said.
While her father and grandmother were sitting on the porch where Doc Samuel had asked them to wait, the doctor continued his exam. He asked about her headaches, how often did she have them and when did they tend to occur. Did they nauseate her or cause any doubled or blurred vision?
“How long do the headaches last?” he asked.
She shrugged. “An hour or so up to a day or two.”
“Do you ever feel dizzy or off balance?”
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“When I first get up or if I stand too quickly.”
“Stick out your tongue.” Nodding and talking to himself, he put her through a series of tests to check her speech and balance and vision. “What year is it?”
“Pardon?”
“What year is it?”
“It’s 1890, of course.”
“Who is the president of the United States?”
“Benjamin Harrison as you well know,” she said, growing irritated with his endless examination and ridiculous questions. “I cease to see how these questions are of any relevance.”
Chuckling, the doctor stepped back, giving Rebecca the space she needed. “My dear, you’ve sustained a nasty head injury that very nearly killed you. I’m testing your recall and mental abilities. You’re fortunate in that you seem to have retained your level of intelligence and that you know where and when you are in relation to the rest of the world. Do you remember the accident?”
She shook her head.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
“They tell me I fell off my horse at the sawmill. Adam said—”
“I don’t want to know what you’ve been told,” he interrupted. “I want to know what you remember. Did you remember hearing anything?”
She shook her head again, weary of the questions she couldn’t answer.
“Close your eyes,” he said gently. “Take a few slow breaths and try to imagine riding your horse into the sawmill. Do you smell anything?”
With her eyes closed, Rebecca drew in breath after calming breath.
“Don’t try to think about the accident,” he said quietly. “Just feel yourself riding into the yard at the mill—”
“I smell pine,” she whispered.
“Is that a memory or a fact you’re recalling?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes still closed. “But I smell fresh cut wood and I... I feel very, very happy.”
“What has made you so happy?” he asked, his voice soothing and hypnotic.
She moved her head slightly to indicate that she couldn’t remember. “I feel stirrups beneath my riding boots and... and Star... I remember her smell and the sleek bristly feel of her mane,” she said, her voice dreamy as she floated in the moment with her beloved horse.
“Why were you at the mill?” he asked.
“Because... because I was happy...” And she had been. She felt it deep inside as if she’d clutched that moment to her breast to protect it from the fall that had stolen her life.
“Why were you happy, Rebecca?”
“I don’t know.” She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
He patted her shoulder. “It’s all right. You remember smells and the feel of stirrups beneath your boots and a sense of being happy. That’s a lot more than you thought you remembered, isn’t it?” At her nod, he continued. “The smell of freshly ground coffee still reminds me of my father enjoying a steaming cupful before he went off to work each morning when I was a boy. Smells, sounds and our other senses often convey us back to our past. I suspect if you
experience more with your senses than your mind, you may remember more and worry less.”
The idea excited her and gave her hope.
“Now we need to settle your nerves and help you start sleeping at night. What seems to be the cause of your unrest?” he asked.
His question deflated her. “I’m having odd... dreams,” she said, because she didn’t want to admit that she was wide awake when the most bizarre thoughts tormented her.
“Tell me about them. Are they the cause of your sleepless nights?”
They were the cause of unending worry, but she simply released a sigh and rubbed her temple to ease the dull, ever-present ache. “Sometimes a headache will wake me, some nights it’s a dream or a noise. Mostly, it’s the sense that I’m being suffocated. I feel lost and frightened and I can’t slow my breathing or catch my breath. I just need to get out of bed and find my safe spot on the porch.” She lifted her eyes to the doctor. “I never feel settled. There are so many people around me that I can’t... I can’t breathe. I just wish...” She shook her head, unable to voice her thought for fear of hurting her family.
“You wish what?”
What she wanted was too shocking and selfish to speak aloud.
The doctor placed a calming hand upon her shoulder. “Rebecca, I’m here to help. What is it you wish?”
His soothing voice assured her, encouraged her to confess. “I wish I could stay here,” she said. “In Crane Landing.”
One gray eyebrow lifted above the top of his spectacles as his shrewd blue eyes assessed her.
“No one knows me here. I’m not surrounded by family or by folks in town who have known me all my life. I can’t remember one of them and it... it’s terribly distressing to live among strangers who know me so intimately. I don’t want to go home until I get my memory back,” she said. “I will get it back, won’t I?”
A sympathetic smile slowly lifted his lips as he studied her. “Head injuries are tricky, Rebecca. They can take a long time to heal. I’ll need to observe you for at least a couple of months to better assess your condition.”
“Two months?” She sank back on the stool. “My father can’t even stay a week, Dr. Samuel.”
“I suspected as much,” he said. “But perhaps you and your grandmother can?”
Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, but suddenly understood that the doctor was providing an acceptable excuse for her to escape her family for a while without hurting their feelings. “I don’t know if it’s possible, but I would be happy to remain in Crane Landing for a while. Especially if you think you can help me get my memory back.”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” he said.
She nodded, understanding that he couldn’t promise her anything. “I may need your assistance persuading my father.”
The doctor flapped a hand to dismiss her comment. “Your father is a smart man. He won’t question anything that may help improve your health. I strongly believe that taking some time here at Crane Landing will be a good course of action for you, Rebecca. You need a place that will quiet your nerves and help you heal.”
She agreed wholeheartedly. “I feel more relaxed already.”
“Good. Now let me take another look at your head. Perhaps we can ease those headaches some.”
Chapter Twelve
Adam strolled down the cobbled drive and headed to The Beacon Inn after a short visit with Elias Crane. He was glad to be staying on at Crane Landing with Rebecca and their grandmother, but he was deeply discouraged that Doc Samuel couldn’t determine if Rebecca’s memory would return. All Adam could hope for was better news when Rebecca visited the doctor again next week.
Meanwhile, he would make her stay here as comfortable as possible and do his best to help her remember her life—and their love.
Radford had readily agreed to her staying on at Crane Landing under the care of the good doctor and her grandmother—with Adam’s protection. Radford’s small nod to the caliber of Adam’s character left Adam feeling more sad than grateful. Rebecca wasn’t the only one to lose something of value because of her accident.
Radford had also set up accounts for Rebecca and his mother with the local merchants. The ladies were only too happy for the chance to explore the town and the scenery of the bay and the ocean beyond. So Adam had suggested to Radford that the women might be more comfortable in a small house of their own, especially considering the duration of their stay. Upon Radford’s agreement, Adam had gone to see Elias Crane.
After their meeting, it took ten minutes for Adam to reach the inn where he joined Radford and Rebecca and their grandmother on the wide porch for a refreshing glass of mint tea.
Taking a seat across from Radford, Adam said, “I secured the house. We can move them in immediately.”
“Excellent,” Radford replied. To Rebecca, he said, “Adam has found a suitable house for you and mother to occupy while you’re under Doctor Samuel’s care.”
“A house?” she asked. “I thought we would remain at the inn.”
“You can stay here if you choose,” Radford said, “but a house will be more private and I suspect a good bit quieter.”
“It’s a lovely home,” Adam interjected. He wanted her to stay in the house because he knew she would love the cozy rooms and the view of the river and the bay. He needed her to stay there because the privacy would allow him to spend more time with her than he could at the inn. He needed that extra time. He had a few short weeks to jog her memory and rescue their love before returning her home to her family. So he lobbied hard. “It’s a small house right on the river that will make a wonderful home while you’re here.”
She hesitated as if undecided. “What shall we do, Grandma?”
“We shall go take a look,” her grandmother said. “The house sounds lovely.”
“We’ve been invited to dinner with the Crane family this evening,” Adam said to Radford. “I took the liberty of accepting as I thought you should like to see Elias again. We could visit the house at that time as it’s just a few minutes past the Crane residence.”
“Thank you, Adam. I would indeed like to see Elias.” Radford got to his feet. “Why don’t you ladies freshen up and then we’ll go see about this house before our dinner engagement.”
Within the hour the four of them were dressed for supper.
“Shall I hire a carriage?” Adam asked, as they gathered on the Inn’s wonderfully deep porch. “I enjoy the walk, but I’m not certain if the ladies prefer to travel by carriage.”
“No, please!” Rebecca stated emphatically. “I should hate to be closed up in a carriage on such a fine day. May we walk?”
Radford glanced at his mother for her response. “What’s your pleasure, Mother?”
“By all means, let’s enjoy the day. Walking will give me a perfect opportunity to snoop in the windows of the mercantile and these other wonderful establishments.”
And snoop she did!
Rebecca and their grandmother paused at more than a few of the business establishments to gaze into the windows that were chock-full of merchandise. They priced handbags and bloomers and ribbons and bows. They oohed over bathing slippers made of white canvas and trimmed with red braiding. They marveled at the bolts of taffeta, chiffon, and silk on display, not to mention the ready-made dresses available. A sign in the milliner’s shop boasted that dressmaker Sadie Gill had just returned from New York where she had studied the latest fashions. Another sign invited all to the dance at the Grange Hall preceding the Independence Day fireworks still several weeks away. There were spices galore in the next window display, along with exotic teas and tinctures. It seemed that whatever the world had to offer could be found in the shops here, and all of it seemed to delight Rebecca.
Seeing the joy in her expression lifted Adam’s spirit.
He had walked Bay Street so often in the months he’d lived at Crane Landing, he could travel it with his eyes closed. Curving and winding gently, Bay Street hugged the inlet and horseshoe
shaped bay. Bay Street became River Road where the river met the bay—and that’s where the Crane mansion sat. Further up River Road just before the first significant rise sat the white two-story house. Big leafy maple trees shaded the front yard and wide-columned veranda.
The Crane family had relatives in last summer and that’s when Adam had first seen the house. He knew what he would find inside, so he was able to watch and enjoy Rebecca’s exclamations of pleasure as she inspected the home. They entered through a small wood paneled foyer and found themselves in a cozy parlor wallpapered in a garden pattern with fussy meadow flowers of yellow and blue.
“It will be as if we’re sitting in a peaceful garden,” Rebecca said, trailing her fingertips across the textured walls.
Her pleasure was so obvious that Adam couldn’t wait for her to see the back porch.
She made her way to the kitchen, admiring the small maple table, exploring the cupboards that were stocked with dishes, and drawers filled with utensils.
“Grandma, everything one could need is already here.” Rebecca took an apron off a hook beside the sink, shook it open, and tied it around her slim waist. “What shall I prepare for supper?” she asked, a smile on her face that stopped Adam’s aching heart from beating.
To see a hint of her former self shining through the shadow of her injury gave Adam hope that she might yet find her way back to him.
“A cup of tea to sip while sitting on that lovely porch would suit just fine,” Grandma said, gazing out the window above the kitchen sink.
Surprise lit Rebecca’s eyes and she turned to peek out the window. “Oh!” She whipped off the apron and laid it on the counter. Without a word she headed straight to the door and stepped outside. “Oh... my...” Adam heard her say.
He grinned. He knew the back porch would be her favorite place.
“Grandma... you must come out here,” she said.
They all joined her there, each of them taking in the breathtaking view of the river. From high up the mountain the Crane River cut a winding path down through thick green forests where it emptied into the bay just beyond the Crane mansion. And just outside the door to this little house, crystal clear water tumbled over river rocks, creating a song that calmed the spirit.
My Forever Love Page 12