He had set what he thought was a clever trap, but she was too smart to walk into it.
"You're good," he said with reluctant admiration. "You're damn good."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He harrumphed and picked up the sack. "What's for breakfast?"
He had scarfed down two of the biscuit and pork sausage sandwiches before noticing that she had removed the meat patties from hers. "Did you poison the sausage, or what?"
"Please," she said, groaning.
"Then what's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, I guess," she said, biting into her plain biscuit.
"I just don't eat pork anymore."
"Anymore? Meaning that you did at one time. Why'd you lay off pork?"
"Don't we have more urgent things to discuss?" She licked buttery crumbs from her fingertips. "You should seriously reconsider and let me take you to a doctor."
"No. No," he repeated with emphasis when he saw that she was about to argue. "All I need are some dry clothes and aspirin."
"Okay. Fine. It's your head."
"I'd like to know my name."
"What?" She went perfectly still, gazing at him with stricken eyes that didn't even blink.
"Everyone in the hospital was very careful not to call me by name," he said. "Even when the deputy questioned me, he didn't address me by name."
"Doctor's orders. He didn't want you to become distressed and confused."
"What's my name?"
"John."
"John," he repeated, trying on the name. It wasn't uncomfortable. But it didn't necessarily fit, either. "What's yours?"
"Kendall."
The names meant nothing to him. Zero. He gazed at her suspiciously.
Her tone was almost too innocent when she asked, "Ring any bells?"
"No. Because I'm almost certain you're lying."
She didn't even honor that with a comment. Instead, she started the car. They drove for another hour before reaching a town that had a store open on Sunday. "Give me your list," she said after she had parked.
She jotted down toiletry items as he enumerated them.
"And some clothes," he added.
"Anything special?"
"Just clothes. And a newspaper, please."
"A newspaper?" She hesitated, then nodded and reached for the door. "This may take a while. I've got a shopping list, too.
Before she could get out, he asked, "How are you going to pay?"
"With cash."
"Where'd you get it?"
"I earned it," she replied curtly, opening the car door.
Again he forestalled her. "Wait. You'll need my sizes."
She reached across the car seat and squeezed his knee. "Silly.
I know your sizes."
The wifely, natural, familiar gesture sent an electric shock through his system.
Watching her as she walked toward the entrance to the store, he thought for the thousandth time, Who is this woman, and what is she to me?
Five minutes later, the baby started fretting. At first he ignored the crying, but when it intensified, he turned and looked at the kid, who had no reason to cry that he could see.
He tried to tune him out, but the squalling increased in volume until it was earsplitting. He began to perspire. Sweat trickled from his armpits down to his ribs. It beaded on his forehead. He was burning up, but he didn't risk opening a window because the crying infant would attract attention.
Christ, where is she? What's taking so damn long?
She heard her baby crying long before she reached the car.
She broke into a run and practically pulled the driver's door from its hinges.
"What's the matter with Kevin? What happened?"
She tossed the sacks of purchases into his lap and pushed forward the seat. Seconds later the baby was in her arms and she was crooning to him.
"Why didn't you do something?" she demanded. "Why'd you just let him scream like that?"
"I didn't know what to do. I don't know anything about babies."
"Well, you should, shouldn't you?" She hugged the child tighter against her and rocked him on her shoulder while patting his back. "There, there, sweetheart. It's okay.
Mommy's here now." She cradled him in her left arm and, tucking him against her body, raised the hem of her shirt.
He glimpsed a milk-swollen breast and a jutting nipple a split second before it disappeared into the infant's mouth.
Because he continued to gape at the suckling infant, she shot him a defiant look. "Is something wrong?"
Something was wrong, all right, but he didn't have- a clue as to what it was. He turned his head away and stared out the window. If she was his wife, as she claimed, why had he experienced a guilty thrill at seeing her breast? If she was the mother of his child, his son, why did the whole concept of maternity make him queasy?
Jesus. What kind of man was he?
The disturbing questions made his head throb painfully.
He closed his eyes and tried to block out the conflicting stimuli coming from the other side of the car.
Chapter 5
He pretended to doze even after they were back on the road.
She drove in silence, not even consulting him before she stopped again. While she filled the gastank, he went to the restroom. This time there was a mirror, and, as he had imagined, he looked like a Halloween mask. He considered shaving, then decided against it. It wouldn't be that much of an improvement.
Besides, he didn't want to give her time to take off without him.
When he came out of the restroom, he saw that she was being hassled by a trio of teenage boys. They had cornered her at the vending machine and wouldn't let her pass. She was carrying snacks and canned drinks in both hands.
"This isn't funny, guys," she said irritably as she tried to sidestep the tallest of them.
"I think it's funny," he said. "Don't you think it's funny, Joe?"
"Real funny," Joe answered, grinning stupidly.
"We're just trying to be friendly," the third said.
"Come on, tell us your name, blondie."
"You ain't from around here, are you, cutie?"
"No," Kendall replied icily. "And from what I've seen, I'm glad of that. Now are you going to let me by, or"
"Or what?" Joe asked, thrusting his jeering face close to hers.
"Or I'll stomp the shit out of you."
Of the four who turned around, Kendall was by far the most surprised. Ignoring the boys standing between them, she said imploringly, "Don't do anything. Please. I can handle them."
"Yeah," one of the boys said. "She can handle us." He cupped his crotch. "I'll bet she's pretty good at it, too."
Joe and the other boy thought their friend's double entendre was extremely clever. They burst into laughter.
"You can barely stand up," one chortled, pointing at him.
"Yeah. She do that to you?"
"You're gonna hurt us? I don't think so."
"Which leg you gonna stomp us with, crip?" Joe taunted.
Their laughter was abruptly halted when he swung his right crutch up and rapped Joe's shins with it. The boy's knees buckled and he went down, bellowing. The other two turned white-faced.
"Get out of her way," he said calmly.
They moved away from Kendall. Joe continued to roll on the ground, yowling and clutching his smarting shins. Kendall stepped around him and walked swiftly to the car.
"I suggest you boys learn some manners," he said, then joined Kendall in the car.
She drove away quickly. He was feeling better now that he knew he wasn't entirely useless. So he was flabbergasted when she launched her verbal attack.
"That was brilliant. Just brilliant. Thank you very much. I That's just what I needed, a knight on crutches to rescue me from some harmless flirting. I could have handled it. But no, you had to barge in and give them something to remember!"
"You're angry?"
"Yes, I'm angry. Why did you butt in? Why di
dn't you just mind your own business?"
"When my wife's being sexually harassed by three men, it is my business. Isn't it?" Her combative flare fizzled. She now looked flustered and annoyed with herself for losing her temper. "You didn't want a scene, right? Because you didn't want us to be remembered if anyone should come asking. Guess it's a goo d thing I didn't throw these away." He held up the OR scrubs he had been wearing. "They won't leave a trail."
She didn't take the bait. Her eyes remained on the road, but she sighed and pushed back her hair. "I'm sorry. Thank you for rushing to my defense. Do the clothes fit okay?"
"Yeah," he said, glancing down at his new shorts and T shirt. It occurred to him then that she really had known his sizes.
They were traveling a narrow state highway that cut through dense forests. As they passed flooded fields and crossed bridges spanning swollen creeks, he was reminded of their accident.
His amnesia was her most valuable asset, because it kept him in the dark. Her word was his sole source of information.
She could tell him anything, and he had no choice but to accept it because he couldn't disprove it. He had no way of finding out what the real picture was.
"You forgot to buy me a newspaper," he remarked. "Was that an oversight?"
"No, but there weren't any. I checked several dispensers.
They'd sold out."
For once, she might be telling the truth, he thought. The dispensers at the gas station had been empty, too. He had made a point to check. He had hoped that a headline or even a small filler item would spark his memory.
On the other hand, he dreaded reading about a notorious character and realizing it was himself. Before the accident, had he been involved in some criminal activity?
Instinct told him that his authority was being challenged.
But what authority? Professional? Marital? That couldn't be it because he didn't believe for a second that they were a married couple. He would know somehow he would know if he had slept with her.
No man alive could forget those breasts, shapely and sexy in spite of their nurturing function. The shape of her ass hadn't escaped his notice, either. She had arresting eyes and morning after hair that seemed to have a will of its own.
She wasn't classically pretty, but even from his hospital bed he had noticed her voluptuous mouth. It was full and provocative, the kind you'd gladly pay a thousand dollars to spend the night with.
When he had watched her licking buttery biscuit crumbs from her fingers earlier, he had been convinced that his self diagnosis was correct. He wasn't that sick.
His reactions to her were distinctly masculine, conditioned reflexes. He had responded the way any heterosexual man would to that stimuli. He would bet his life that his response was not founded on recognition and familiarity.
Made restless by the track his thoughts had taken, he switched on the radio, hoping to catch a newscast. "It's broken," she told him.
"Convenient for you," he said. "How much farther do we have to go? And where in hell are we going anyway? And don't you dare say Tennessee."
She didn't. She said, "We're going to Grandmother's house."
"Grandmother's house," he repeated caustically.
"That's right."
"Your grandmother or mine? Do I have a grandmother?"
He envisioned a stereotype gray hair captured in a neat bun, a benign smile, admonitions to keep your jacket buttoned even when it was seventy-five degrees outside, someone who smelled of lavender soap and kitchen spices. He grasped the concept, but he couldn't imagine himself being coddled by such an individual. Or coddled by anyone, for that matter.
"It's my grandmother," she said.
"Have you notified her that we're coming?"
"She won't be there." Her voice took on a soft huskiness
"She died four months ago. Just a few weeks before Kevin was born.
He digested that. "Were you with her?"
"No. I was . . . away. And too close to attend her funeral."
"You two were close?"
"More than close. We shared an extraordinary relationship."
His evident interest encouraged her to continue. "My mother and father were killed in an accident when I was five. Grand mother became my guardian. My grandfather had already died, so it was just the two of us. The bond between us was very strong."
"Did I know her? Have I been to her house before?"
She shook her head.
"How much farther?"
Sighing, she rolled her head around her shoulders. "Please stop asking me that. It won't get us there any sooner. I'd like to get there before dark, and the time would pass much faster for you if you would sleep. You need the rest."
He had taken three aspirins, which had dulled his headache and reduced the soreness of his muscles, but he still felt like he had been tenderized with a meat mallet. With the intention of resting his eyes for just a moment, he relaxed back against the headrest.
Hours later, when he woke, it was dusk and they had reached their destination.
The house was situated at the end of a lane that was lined with grapevines and honeysuckle bushes. The rain had abated, so as they approached the house, Kendall rolled down the car window and breathed deeply of the mingled fragrances, the sweet smells of summer. Memories of her childhood assailed her. Homesickness for her grandmother squeezed her heart like pincers.
It had grown dark beneath the trees in the surrounding forest. Lightning bugs winked at her from the leafy shadows.
She almost expected to hear Grandmother's voice calling her to come see this galaxy of glowworms.
The house was a frame structure with a composite roof that extended over a wide porch. It could have used a coat of paint, and the yard needed attention, but otherwise it was remarkably unchanged since her last visit.
Except that her grandmother wasn't there and never would be again.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as she brought the car to a stop. He woke up, yawned, stretched, and peered through the gloom to get his bearings.
Kendall opened her door and got out, for the moment leaving Kevin asleep in his infant seat. She jogged up the front steps, then stood on tiptoe to reach the key that had always been kept above the doorjamb.
She located it and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open. Hoping for the best, she reached for the light switch on the wall. When the lights came on, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ricki Sue had continued paying the utilities bills.
Swiftly she moved through the rooms. Sheets covered the furniture, and the house smelled musty from being uninhabited, but she would shortly have it livable for only as long as she and Kevin would be there.
She returned to the living room. He had followed her inside and was standing propped on his crutches, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Like it?"
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
"I know it doesn't look like much now, but I'll fix it up."
The statement evoked a memory that was realistic.
Almost word for word, it echoed a statement she had made on her wedding night.
Chapter 6
Matt swung open the front door. "What a wonderful wedding! The muscles of my face are aching from smiling so much." When he realized that Kendall hadn't followed him into the house, he looked back at her curiously. "What is it?"
"Call me a foolish romantic, but I've always dreamed of my bridegroom carrying me across the threshold."
"You are a foolish romantic." Smiling, he scooped her into his arms. "But that's just one of the many things I love about you."
He carried her inside. Kendall placed her hand behind his neck and drew him down for a long, meaningful kiss, one she knew she would remember for the rest of her life their first kiss in their first home.
Gibb had presented them with the house as a wedding gift fully furnished, mortgage-free, everything paid in full.
Kendall had been astounded by his generosity, but, in keeping with his cha
racter, Gibb had dismissed her effusive thanks.
He had hounded the contractor to have it ready by their wed ding day, and he had accepted no excuses. It had been completed and ready for occupancy three days ago.
Now, Matt set her down in the wide entryway. "Mind if we get rid of this?" he asked, fingering her bridal veil.
"Not at all."
With some assistance from her, he lifted the veil from her head; then, holding her with a possessiveness she relished, he kissed her again. When he finally released her, she was breath less and giddy with happiness.
Flinging her arms wide, she pivoted a full 360 degrees, absorbing the beauty of her new home, from the skylight overhead to the wood grain of the floor.
It was an environmentally friendly frame house, designed to blend in to its rustic setting with the Blue Ridge Mountains as a backdrop. The interior was contemporary but warm and embracing. The rooms were spacious and bright. It smelled of new lumber and fresh paint.
This moment held special significance for Kendall. This was to be her home, she hoped for the rest of her life. She and Matt would rear their children here. In this house they would live and grow old together, a simple privilege her young parents had been denied. She wanted her happiness to be so abundant that it would make up for their loss.
She hugged herself. "I love it."
Matt had shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and was standing with his hands in his pockets, taking in the appointments of the house. The furniture still had factory tags attached. The rooms hadn't been accessorized. "It's a little stark, isn't it?"
"It's not a home yet," she said. "We'll put our stamp on it, make it more than just a house. I know it doesn't look like much now, but I'll fix it up. I can't wait to get started."
Moved by her own speech, she laid her hands on the pleats of his tuxedo shirt and leaned in to him. "Oh, Matt, I love my life here."
He slid his arms around her waist. "I'm doing okay myself," he teased. He gave her a quick, hard kiss. "But I'm starving.
Dad said there'd be food in the fridge."
He released her and made his way t o the kitchen. Kendall caught up with him as he was removing a bottle of champagne from the wide refrigerator. "I'll pop the cork and pour. You read the gift card. Good Lord, when Dad said there'd be food, he wasn't kidding. Most supermarkets don't have this much inventory."
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