THE HUSBAND SHE COULDN'T REMEMBER

by Maggie Shayne

  "I had to tie her up and leave her in a closet. Mean, I know, but I had no choice."

  He shook his head in wonder. "Maybe the old Penny isn't completely gone after all," he said softly.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because that's just the kind of thing she would have done."

  "Really?"

  Ben nodded, searching her face, wanting to ask her if this new Penny had any sort of feelings about him. Wondering if things like desire or attraction had survived in her memory along with the ability to ride and the tendency to see mysteries around every corner. He wanted to ask her. But he didn't. Maybe because he was so afraid to hear her answer.

  Instead he said, "So you think you were more or less a prisoner there?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. I didn't wait around to find out."

  "And that's why you're so wary of doctors."

  She nodded. "They stick together, you know. If I saw someone, they might just ship me right back to the clinic."

  Ben shook his head. "You think I'd let that happen?"

  She stared at him, but said nothing.

  "They'd have to go through me to take you away again, Penny," he said softly. "And if they managed that, they'd have the rest of the family to contend with. You're safe with us, Penny. No one can hurt you now that you're home."

  She blinked, bit her lip, and he knew she was close to giving in. "Would it help if I told you the doctor I have in mind is the same one who tended your mother when you were born? And tended her again when she and your dad passed on later?"

  Penny's eyes closed suddenly. "My parents are dead," she stated in a flat tone.

  Ben groaned. "I didn't mean to drop it on you like that, Penny. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

  "Was it … while I was … gone?" she whispered.

  Ben clasped her small hand in his large one. "You were by their sides, honey. Your daddy had a yearlong battle with cancer. He died when you were still in college, and your mama had a heart attack a couple of weeks later. Almost like she couldn't live without him."

  She blinked away a few tears that crept into her eyes. "Maybe she couldn't."

  Ben nodded. "I know just what she was feeling."

  Her gaze dropped, touching very briefly on Ben's lips, and he forgot about the time that had passed and leaned closer and brushed her mouth with his. Softly, too briefly. She tasted so sweet.

  Her eyes widened a little, but a second later they fell closed, and her lips touched his again. Ben gathered her close to him, and kissed her. Gently, tenderly, he caressed her mouth with his. Until she drew away shuddering, lowering her head again, rubbing her temples.

  "Penny?"

  "We should get back," she said, getting to her feet.

  He shouldn't have done that. Dammit, he was moving too fast. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean—"

  "No." Her timid whisper stopped him in midsentence, and he searched her face. "It … it's okay."

  She looked up, met his eyes, and he could see her headache had returned. But he could also see the flush of pleasure in her cheeks that hadn't been there before.

  "I'll see this doctor of yours if you think I should, Ben. But only if…" She lowered her head, bit her lip.

  "Only if what?"

  Averting her gaze, she said, "Only if you'll be there with me."

  Didn't she know he'd be with her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week if he had his way? "I'll be there," he promised. He took her hand, and led her slowly back to where the horses grazed.

  What was happening to her? It was frightening, and shook her right to the core, whatever it was. She'd been terrified when the horse had taken off with her like that, scared senseless when she'd seen the fence looming before her. But then something had come over her. Something unfamiliar and strange. Almost like someone else had taken over her body and her mind. She'd felt possessed by some foreign soul.

  But when it happened, somehow she'd known exactly what to do. Her body had acted without her consent, and she'd found herself suddenly at ease in the saddle, anticipating the horse's every move, even urging her forward, instinctively aware she had no choice but to jump the fence. And when the horse sailed easily over it, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And every part of her seemed to remember having done this before. Every physical part. She'd felt all of this before. The wind rushing across her face, carrying the heated scent of the mare. The percussion of thundering hooves on the ground beneath her, the elation of flight and then the impact of the landing. Her body knew those things, recognized them. Her mind didn't. She couldn't remember them. But the knowledge was there. The sensory memories remained.

  And they had been there again when Ben's soft lips had brushed hers. Her body had come alive. It knew the feel of those lips even if her mind didn't. She'd tingled all over, and something … something was teasing at the edges of her mind—something she couldn't quite grasp. Just as it had with the horse.

  And just as it had then, her head began pounding like a jackhammer, feeling as if it would split at any moment.

  Was she starting to remember? Would this continue? Did she want it to, when each hint of memory seemed to bring on such intense pain?

  Yes. It would be worth anything to get her identity back. She knew that. Besides, it wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter. But she didn't tell Ben any of this. She could just imagine the way his eyes would light up with hope if he knew. And how disappointed he'd be if nothing more came of it. She had more than sufficient reason to believe nothing would.

  She'd asked Dr. Barlow if her memory would return. He hadn't said maybe. He hadn't said time would tell. His reply had been a sad but simple "No." And though she suspected the man might have lied to her about other things, she couldn't think of a single reason he might lie to her about that.

  But could he have been wrong?

  Ben helped her back into the saddle. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "It's like riding a bike," he said. "Once you learn, you never forget."

  She shook her head as he mounted his own horse. "I've read about people with amnesia who have to learn to walk and talk all over again. I imagine they forgot how to ride a bike."

  "But you didn't," he said, gathering the reins and looking at her, and even though she hadn't told him the truth, she saw that gleam of hope in his eyes all the same. "It's gonna come back to you, Penny. All of it. I know it is."

  "What if it doesn't?"

  He'd nudged his horse into a gentle walk, and Penny rode along beside him. Though it was early autumn, the sun beat down, warming her. It felt good. All of it. The breeze that cooled the sun's hot kiss, the saddle creaking beneath her and smelling of leather.

  "What do you mean?" Ben asked.

  She lowered her head. "I'm different now," she said.

  "Not in any way that matters."

  "How have I changed?" It wasn't what she really wanted to know. What she wanted to ask him was whether he thought he could learn to like her again, get to know her as the woman she was now, rather than the woman he remembered. Because this new Penny might be all she could ever be. The one he longed for so much might be just as dead as if she really were in that grave she'd seen.

  But maybe not. Because being with him, here in this place, felt so right.

  He thought about his answer. "You never used to throw your towels on the floor after a bath," he said.

  She felt her cheeks heat and bristled a little defensively. "I did pick them up when I got around to it."

  "Before, you'd have wiped the tub dry, and the floor, and folded the damned things before you put them in the hamper."

  So he thought she'd turned into a slob. She glanced at his face and found him grinning.

  "Used to drive you crazy when I'd toss mine aside after a shower. And your neatness obsession used to drive me just as nuts."

  She blinked in surprise. "Then it doesn't bother you if I'm sloppier than I used to be?"

  "Bother me?" He looked at her sharply.
"You saying you'd be upset if it did?"

  Penny quickly averted her gaze, not knowing how to answer that. It would upset her, she realized, but she wasn't certain she understood why.

  He saved her from having to reply, though. "You could trash the whole place, and I wouldn't mind, Penny."

  She tried not to smile, but smiled anyway. His voice was deep and soft. It made her feel warm inside. "How else am I different?"

  He shrugged. "You never had a dog before. I told you that, though. Then there's the music."

  "Music?"

  He nodded. "You were listening to some rock station when I came into your room this morning."

  "And I didn't used to?"

  "Never. You were strictly country. Knew all the words to every song Reba ever did."

  She frowned. "Reba who?" Then she wished she hadn't said it, because he looked at her again, and his eyes were so sad it cut like a knife. But he covered it quickly.

  "You, uh, you cut your hair."

  "You let yours grow," she said.

  Ben's eyes widened and, drawing his horse to a sudden halt, he stared at her, gaping. "Did you hear what you just said?"

  Penny blinked, searching her mind. "It just came out," she said. "I don't know where it came from, Ben, it just sort of spilled out of me without warning." Her head ached a little harder. She closed her eyes.

  "No," he said gently, and his hand came to rest on the side of her head, right where it ached. Easing, comforting her. His touch was magic to her. And each time he stopped touching her, she found herself wishing he'd touch her again. "Don't try to force it. Just let it go, pretend it didn't happen. Seems to me more comes back to you when you aren't trying than when you are."

  She shook her head, opened her eyes. "Please don't get your hopes up, Ben. It wasn't a memory. I don't know what it was—it was just there."

  He nodded slowly, clicking his tongue at the horse, and both animals began walking again. The steady plodding of their hooves over the lush, grassy ground was soothing somehow. The house was in sight now. And Penny felt an odd twinge of regret that their ride together was coming to an end.

  "So, about the hair," Ben said, sending her a sideways glance. "Do you think I should cut it again?"

  She smiled at him, but her throat went dry as she studied his dark gold hair, pulled back with a band, and thought about how it would feel to run her fingers through it. "I … kind of like it the way it is."

  He turned his head so she couldn't see his reaction to that. "I like yours, too."

  "Better than before?"

  He faced her, and his smile was gone. His eyes, deep and solemn as his gaze moved over her. "I liked it long. I like it short. I'd like it even if it all fell out."

  Her stomach tied itself into a painful knot.

  "It isn't the hair, Penny. It's the woman underneath who gets under my skin. Always was."

  She closed her eyes. "The woman underneath," she whispered, wondering why his words hurt so much. And then she knew. Because there was no woman underneath—not the one he knew, at least. Not anymore. And there might never be again.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  They sipped iced tea on the porch swing, and Ben studied her face, searching for signs of fatigue. But he saw none.

  "What are we going to do now?" she asked eagerly.

  "Haven't we done enough?" She'd insisted on brushing down Agatha herself. She should be exhausted by now, but wasn't.

  "Not by a long shot." Then she frowned, searching his face. "You must have things you should be doing, though. The dojo…"

  "Elliot and Adam are handling things there for me," he said softly.

  She tilted her head. "They're into martial arts, too?"

  Ben smiled at her. "They're clueless. But they'll be fine. Fact is, there's only one class left today." He glanced at his watch. "The preschoolers should be arriving in a half hour for their lesson, and then the boys are done for the day."

  She sat up straighter. "Let's let them off the hook."

  Ben frowned, not sure what she meant. "You want me to go in and teach that class?"

  Smiling softly, she nodded. "If I can come, too. I mean … if you don't mind…"

  "Are you sure you're not too tired?" He couldn't get over how much energy she had. He'd expected her flat on her back in bed by now.

  "I'm not tired at all. And I want to see that place … from the inside, I mean."

  Ben stroked her cheek. Partly because he couldn't seem to resist touching her at every opportunity, but mostly because he wanted to be sure she didn't have a fever. She didn't. Her skin was warm and soft, and her eyes sparkled. "Okay," he said. "If you insist, we'll go teach the class. Together." In truth he'd always dreamed of showing his wife what he'd built from what had once been a grain warehouse. He was proud of the dojo. But not being able to share it with her had always detracted from his joy in it.

  They arrived twenty minutes later, and he saw Penny admiring the dragon painted on the red door as he opened it for her. They entered the huge main room, stepped over the mats scattered on the floor and stopped in the center.

  On the far end Elliot executed a clumsy spinning back kick, while Adam shook his head and said, "No way. I've seen Ben do it, and that's all wrong."

  "Is not," Elliot countered. "I know I'm doing it right."

  "You are if you're supposed to look like you just stepped on a banana peel."

  Ben laughed. "You two ought to sign up for lessons if you really want to learn."

  His brothers both turned to face him, Elliot looking surprised, while Adam sent a worried look toward Penny. "What are you two doing here?"

  "Relieving you both of command. Penny and I will take the final class. You can go home."

  Penny and Ben came forward, and Adam said, "Are you sure you're up to this, Penny?"

  Penny tilted her head. "Why is everyone always asking me that?"

  Adam shrugged. "We get overprotective of our sisters. You don't believe me, just ask Jessi." There was affection in his eyes as he studied her face, looking, Ben knew, for signs of fatigue just as he'd been doing himself all afternoon.

  "To hell with asking Jessi," Elliot said. "Ask Lash." Ben lowered his head when Penny sent him a searching look. "We weren't exactly … gentle with him."

  "Poor Lash," Penny said.

  "He came out okay." Ben glanced toward the door as it opened and a few four- and five-year-olds came inside. "I'd better go change. Be right back." He headed toward the locker rooms, but inclined his head at Elliot as he went. When they were out of earshot he said, "On your way home, stop at Garrett's office and tell him the clinic was called the Barlow Hospice, and the name of the doctor in charge was Barlow, as well. Maybe he can check it out."

  Elliot nodded. "Hope he can find something," he said.

  Ben did, too, but he saw Penny looking at them, and knew she'd be curious as to what they were discussing. He didn't want her worrying about it. So he slapped Elliot on the shoulder, and muttered, "Stay with her until I get back out here, okay?"

  "Sure, Ben."

  Ben headed into the locker rooms, leaving Penny in the care of his brothers.

  Elliot greeted the children, while Adam drew Penny aside. "You sure you feel okay?"

  "Fine. Shouldn't I?" She should grill him, she really should. But she didn't think he'd tell her a thing. She'd have to get her information from Ben. And she would. Soon.

  Adam nodded. "Did you get any answers today, Penny? Are you any closer to knowing what really happened to you two years ago?"

  Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't know much more than I did when I got here." She studied his face, wondering at his interest. But saw only caring and concern in his eyes.

  "You will," he told her. "You just relax and try not to worry. I'm gonna take care of this for you. Okay?"

  "Adam, do you know something you're not telling me?"

  He lowered his head. "I know someone who might." Then he met her e
yes again. "But like I said, I'll see to it." He searched her face and smiled. "Damn, it's good to have you back home where you belong. I don't know if I've told you that." Then he hugged her, and she thought it was impulsive and unplanned, and she hugged him back.

  If Adam was keeping something from her, she realized it wasn't that he'd plotted to get rid of her. He couldn't. His caring was genuine, she felt it right to her bones. "Thank you, Adam," she said as he stepped back.

  "Hey, what's this?" Ben called. "I turn my back for a minute and find my wife in my brother's arms." But there was humor in his voice.

  "That's what you get for leaving her alone with such a handsome devil," Adam told him with a wink. "C'mon, Elliot, let's get out of here before he decides to demonstrate that spinning back kick on my face."

  When they left, Penny found a vacant mat in the corner, and sat down there to watch Ben work. He'd emerged from the locker room dressed in the same white uniform the children all wore, but his was decorated with a black belt. The children lined up in front of him, pressed their palms together in front of them and bowed, and Ben did likewise. She saw his eyes glow as he talked them through several simple movements, saw the way the kids responded to him. He suppressed laughter when they messed up, and patiently helped them get it right. They called him "Sensei" and looked at him with adoration in their young eyes.

  He loved these kids, and they him, she thought. And then she thought it was no wonder. Ben Brand would be an easy man to love.

  When the session ended and the mothers arrived to collect their kids, Ben waited until the last one had gone. Then he shut off the lights, locked the place up and walked Penny back to the pickup truck.

  She got in, turned to face him and said, "So where do I sign up?"

  He glanced toward her, startled. "Sign up?"

  "For lessons," she told him. "It's so beautiful, what you do. I want to learn."

  His smile was gentle, but unbearably sad, as he reached out to stroke her hair. She expected him to ask her if she was sure she was up to taking lessons from him. But he didn't. And it made her wonder…

  "Is this something I knew before? Something else I've forgotten?"