Long Gone Lonesome Blues

by Maggie Shayne

  “You’re alive, Penny. How could that possibly be a letdown?”

  “If it’s not, then why do you look like that? What’s wrong, Ben?” She studied him with sharp, probing eyes.

  What, besides the fact that I’m standing here talking to my wife as if she’s a total stranger?

  “Nothing,” he said. “I, uh, brought you some things.” He nodded toward the basket on the bed. “Chelsea sorted through her closets for you.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, mainly to keep himself from touching her.

  “That was really kind of her.” Penny walked to the bed and pawed some of the clothes in the basket. “I’m glad,” she said. “Jessi said I could use her stuff, but this robe is way too big for me.”

  “Jessi’s a bit more than a size six, petite.”

  Penny looked at him quickly, a flash of surprise in her eyes for just a moment before she blinked slowly and banked it. “It seems strange that you know so much about me.”

  “That’s funny,” he told her. “It seems strange to me how little I know about you now.”

  She turned, sat down on the edge of the bed. “This has to be pretty hard for you.”

  He stood closer, reached down to take hold of her hand, and as he held it, his thumb glided lazily up and down the back of it. “I’ve done hard before, Penny. I can handle it. And I’m well aware it’s twice as hard for you.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She cleared her throat, and he thought she’d pull her hand away. But she didn’t. Instead she studied it, enfolded within his. “I had no expectations when I came here. And your family has been more welcoming than I could have hoped for. But I’ve just been…just been a huge disappointment to all of you.” She lowered her head, shook it. “Maybe it would have been better if I’d stayed away.”

  Ben moved forward impulsively, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her head up, and then forcibly resisting the urge to kiss her lips just once. He’d missed her taste so much, dreamed of kissing her again. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not now. Or…not yet.

  “Don’t say that, Penny. You belong here. This is your home, and everyone here is family.”

  “Maybe they were once,” she said, looking around her. “Now, I don’t know.” She met his gaze again. “Ben…your family…did they always like me as much as they seem to now?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  She averted her eyes, and he got the feeling she was hiding something. Or maybe just not saying everything she was thinking. “I mean I couldn’t have been perfect. No one is. They’re all being really sweet, but I can’t help but wonder…if I had any…unresolved issues with any of them.”

  His frown grew deeper. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was on one of her fishing expeditions, probing a witness for clues the way she used to when she was sixteen and seeing a conspiracy around every comer.

  He touched her cheek, just with his forefinger, and turned her face toward his so he could look for the telltale mischief in her eyes. But she kept lowering her lids so he couldn’t be sure if it was there.

  “Penny, you never had a quarrel with anyone in this family, unless it was with Wes for leaving the seat up in the bathroom or Jessi for getting into your favorite lipstick. They love you just as much as I–” Ben bit his lip, averted his eyes. “They love you, Penny.”

  “Loved me,” she said softly, and when he glanced her way she was looking into his eyes and there was something there in hers. Longing, he thought, and it made his stomach convulse. And then she looked away.

  “Give it some time,” he told her. “You’ll feel better once your memory starts coming back…and I’m convinced it will come back, Penny.”

  “Maybe…I just hope it doesn’t turn me back into the woman who needed waiting on hand and foot.”

  “What makes you think you were like that?” he asked quickly. Had someone let something slip?

  She shrugged. “The way everyone seems to want to wait on me hand and foot now,” she said. “Especially you. Why is that, Ben?”

  “I always…liked taking care of you.” He searched her face. “You never minded it before.”

  She frowned at that. And he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.

  “So when do I get my tour?”

  He thought she asked just to change the subject “After lunch, if you—”

  “If I feel up to it, I know.”

  He had to stop saying that. She seemed almost offended by it. “If you don’t mind waiting until after we eat,” he said instead.

  “Depends. When do we eat?”

  “Just as soon as you can get yourself dressed and downstairs.”

  She glanced down at the floor where Olive sat patiently beside the chewed-up clock cord, watching the two of them and waiting for someone to take up her challenge again. “Can Ollie come with us?”

  “Does she chase cattle?” Ben glanced up from the dog to Penny.

  Penny shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Damn, but she didn’t like the idea of being away from the funny-looking dog for a minute. He could tell by the look in her eyes. How did she get so attached to the animal?

  Maybe, he thought, because she hadn’t had anyone else.

  “I guess we can rig up a leash for her and take her along.”

  Penny nodded, looking relieved. “Okay.”

  He stood there a second longer. It was so hard to leave. So hard, when all he wanted to do was hold her, kiss her, tell her how glad he was she’d come back to him. Make the most of whatever time he could have with her.

  And beyond that, he had so many questions…unanswered questions. His mind was hopping with them, but it would do no good to ask her. She couldn’t know the answers.

  Her gaze lowered, dancing across his lips for the briefest moment, making him wonder if she was feeling some of the same things…and he felt his blood heat. Then he made himself get to his feet, turn toward the door.

  A muffled bark made him turn back to see Olive sitting at his feet, behind him. She had the alarm clock in her mouth, and when he looked down she shook it as if she was trying to scramble its insides. He reached for the clock, and the fat little dog immediately crouched and began growling, daring him to try to take it from her.

  Ben shook his head and smiled grudgingly. “She’s cuter than any old cat anyway,” he said.

  “I’m glad you think so, seeing as how she’s about to multiply.”

  Ben looked at Penny with his brows raised. Then he sighed slowly and eyed the dog once more. “I guess we’d better buy some more alarm clocks.”

  Chapter 6

  Ben led Penny all around the house first, then took her outside to show her the barn and the stable, and the pasture where the horses grazed. Aside from a dull headache, she felt no reaction to the place other than admiration. It was beautiful.

  He led her back to the house, sat her down on the porch swing and took a seat beside her. “Surely you remember this?” he asked her.

  It was probably the tenth time he’d uttered the phrase, and it was getting to her. “No,” she said as she’d said each time he’d asked it, and she knew he’d next tell her exactly why she should remember it. The man was developing a pattern. Not that she could blame him for hoping.

  “We used to sit out here after dates. For hours we’d swing and talk…make plans for the future. Neck a bit, until Garrett would see us and flick the porch light. That was always our cue to knock it off.”

  He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to snap her fingers and yell, Oh, yeah, I remember all that. It was like facing a kid on Christmas morning and telling him Santa had forgotten to stop by, and she was beginning to feel like a real grinch for having to do it to him over and over again. He seemed so vulnerable right now.

  But she had felt something when she’d first spotted this swing on the broad front porch. Hadn’t she? Had it been a memory…or just a fantasy? She didn’t know. How could she know? She looked at Be
n’s expectant eyes and realized how cruel it would be to give him false hope.

  Sighing, she said, “I’m sorry. I just don’t remember.”

  And with his heartbreak in his eyes, he said, “That’s okay. You will sooner or later.” Just as he’d said every time they’d repeated this little dance.

  She was really beginning to doubt he could have deliberately plotted to rid himself of her. He seemed to want her back very much.

  Olive sat on the porch beside the swing, her leash still in Penny’s pocket. Ben got to his feet. “I’ll get the horses saddled up. You can wait here.”

  “Okay.” But as she watched him go, she wasn’t sure she was ready for another verse of the “remember this?” song. Still, maybe he needed this as a sort of confirmation that she didn’t remember, that she maybe wasn’t going to. She pulled Olive up into the swing beside her, stroked the dog’s head and swung very slowly.

  Pretty soon Ben came out of the stables with two nearly identical horses saddled and ready. He stopped near the porch and held out a hand to her.

  “I’m not real sure about this,” Penny said, getting to her feet. “I don’t know the first thing about riding one of these things.”

  Ben looked blank for a second. Then, his voice unbearably sad, his eyes averted, he said, “You’re the best rider I know, Penny.” He sighed deeply, hid his heartache and faced her again, stroking the brown mare’s nose. “This is Agatha. You claimed her the day she was born, named her even.”

  Blinking in surprise, Penny came down from the porch to stand in front of the mare. She searched the huge brown eyes, and ran her fingers through the thick, nearly black mane. “After Agatha Christie?” she asked, not looking at Ben.

  His breath escaped him in a rush. “You remember?”

  “No,” she said quickly, turning toward him. “I guessed.” He lowered his gaze, and she impulsively touched his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you think….”

  “Don’t be sorry.” His hand covered hers where it rested on his face, and then he turned and pressed his lips softly to her palm.

  She caught her breath at the touch of his lips. But then he released her hand. And she felt, oddly, as if she hadn’t wanted him to. She bit her lip. She should leave here before she broke this big man’s heart beyond repair. But instead she walked around to the horse’s side. She gripped the pommel and let Ben help her into the saddle. She settled her feet in the stirrups and gathered the reins into her hands. She didn’t remember. But it didn’t feel unfamiliar to be sitting here this way. Her headache thudded harder.

  “They’re twins, you know,” he told her, looking again at the horses. “This one’s Brutus.”

  “Their names are almost as bad as Olive’s,” she said in an effort to lighten things. “Oh, I almost forgot Olive!” She reached for the leash.

  Ben took it from her, but glanced worriedly at the little dog. Olive didn’t notice. She was standing at the top of the porch steps looking down at the horses, ears perked, head tilting from one side to the other.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, bringing her along for the ride,” Ben said. “With those stubby legs of hers she’ll be winded in ten minutes, and she looks like heart-attack material to me.”

  Penny frowned down at the fat little dog. “You’re right. Besides, she shouldn’t be straining herself if she’s going to be a mother.”

  “I agree, and I think Jessi would, too. I’ll just put her inside.” He looped his reins around the rail that stood in front of the porch, and started up the steps. But as soon as he reached for her, Olive seemed to read his mind, and she darted under his hands, between his legs and down the steps, quicker than lightning.

  Penny’s mount danced when the dog raced around its feet, and the horse’s dancing seemed to excite Olive all the more. She barked, crouching low and looking up at the horse with a “let’s play” kind of gleam in her eyes.

  The horse reared, no doubt with an “I don’t think so” kind of look in her own eyes.

  “No!” Penny shouted, jerking the reins and turning the mare in midair. “Don’t trample my dog!”

  The hooves landed hard, barely missing Olive, who thought the whole thing was a riot and wanted to do it again. Olive barked and lunged, the horse bolted and Penny held on for dear life.

  Penny’s horse was off like her tail was on fire, and the dog’s legs were throwing up dust as she raced after the spooked mare. Ben snatched up the dog just as Chelsea came running out the front door, onto the porch. He shoved the mutt into Chelsea’s arms, leaped into the saddle, whirled his mount around and dug in his heels. Damn! Ahead of him Penny bounced up off her saddle every time her horse’s flying hooves touched the ground. She wobbled from one side to the other as if she’d never been on a horse before in her life. And the way her legs were slamming against Agatha’s sides with every impact would only urge the mare to run faster.

  Ben leaned over his own horse, pushing for more speed. He was gaining on her, but too slowly. Damn! Two years ago she’d have been able to sit a runaway mount without even thinking about it. Now….

  She was coming up on a fence. And dammit, the horse was still charging full speed—too fast to stop in time. And if Agatha tried to turn, Penny would be thrown for sure. She’d probably break her neck. Ben’s heart jumped up to block his throat, so that when he shouted her name no sound came out. He had the horrible feeling that he was about to lose her all over again.

  And then something happened. She settled into the saddle. Her legs stopped flopping like wet rags and suddenly clamped tight to the horse’s sides. The horse charged right at the fence, and Penny leaned over the pommel, weight in the stirrups, backside lifting slightly from the saddle as the mare launched herself. Like a pair of well-matched dancers, Penny and the horse sailed over the fence, landing easily—and safely, thank goodness—on the other side.

  Ben followed, unsure what to think. Penny’s horse was still running, but its pace slowed now, and he could see her easing back on the reins, stroking the sleek, sweat-damp neck, leaning close to speak softly. He caught up in a few seconds, but by then she had slowed the animal to a trot, and then a brisk walk, and finally drew her to a stop there in the middle of the south pasture.

  Ben drew his horse to a stop, as well, sliding quickly to the ground and hurrying over to Penny. She leaned forward in the saddle, her head in her hands, pale and trembling. Without even thinking about it first, he reached for her and lifted her down. But he didn’t set her on her feet. Rather he cradled her like a child in his arms and searched her face.

  Her brows were bunched up tight, eyes closed. But she didn’t argue about being held this way. Instead she let her head rest against his shoulder.

  “You’re hurt?”

  “No.” She pressed both hands to her forehead again. “Damn, it’s my head. God, it’s throbbing.”

  “All right. All right, Penny.” He held her closer, massaging the base of her neck with one hand, kneading her scalp with his fingers. Gently, rhythmically. “You’re okay.”

  She released what sounded like a pent-up breath. “That feels good.”

  “Then I’ll keep on doin’ it.”

  He carried her closer to the stream, a crystal blue strand that ran through this pasture and kept on going all the way to Wes’s place, bisecting his land, as well. Choosing a grassy spot close to the water’s edge, Ben sat down. He arranged Penny so she was reclining against his chest, and began massaging her head with both hands now. Fingertips rubbing gentle circles at her temples while his thumbs curved around to press at the base of her skull. Slow and steady he worked, half-amazed that she didn’t object. Her headache must be pretty bad for her to let him touch her like this. He hated that she was hurting—but loved that he could hold her.

  “Is it any better?”

  “A little.”

  He peeked down to study her face. “Close your eyes,” he told her. “Relax. You’re scrunching up your face
so much you’re starting to look like that dog of yours.”

  “Hey!”

  “That’s better. At least you stopped scowling. You always did have a killer scowl.”

  “Did I?”

  She flinched a little. As if the pain was suddenly worse again.

  “Forget it. I want you to try something for me, Penny.”

  “I’ve been trying,” she told him, tensing up all over again. “I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t remember, Ben.”

  He sighed softly and shook his head. “You just did, sweetheart. Whether you know it or not, you remembered how to ride. If you hadn’t, you’d have never made that jump without a few broken bones at the very least.”

  A long, slow breath escaped her. “I didn’t remember. Not really. I just…I just did what seemed best.”

  He nodded. He knew better, of course, and suddenly he had more hope than ever. Horsemanship was lurking somewhere inside Penny’s mind, and the knowledge had come to the surface when she’d needed it. Who was to say that all the rest of her past wasn’t still there some-where, as well? Who was to say it wouldn’t emerge just as subtly as this bit of memory had? He might have her back—all of her—even if it would be for a brief time. Too brief.

  “Doesn’t matter right now anyway,” he told her. “I wasn’t going to ask you to try to remember. I had something else in mind.”

  She turned her head, glancing up at him with a hint of alarm in her eyes.

  “Relax,” he told her. “And listen.” He gently turned her head around to its former position, and resumed massaging her headache away. “You hear the stream?”

  She frowned a little, but then the frown eased away. “Yes. It’s like…laughter.”

  He wanted to kiss her so much it was like a pain inside him. But he didn’t. It was too soon. She’d remembered how to ride that horse, how to jump the fence, how to control the animal and calm it. He had to believe the rest would come, too. He just had to give her time.

  And he refused to listen to the voice inside, reminding him that time was something she did not have.