High Lonesome (23 page)

“Were you kidnapped? Do you remember anything about your kidnappers?”

“Were you harmed? Were you assaulted?”

“Who is the man who rescued you?”

“Is it true you don’t remember anything about your life here in Arizona?”

She covered her face with her hands, and Jack marshaled her through the garage. He fumbled with his keys to get the kitchen door open and then pushed her inside. She snuck a peek out the kitchen window as he turned around and faced the throng of media people and other curious onlookers. When he raised his hands, the noise of the crowd died down.

His speech was short and to the point. “Mrs. West will not be granting any interviews, now or ever. The matter of her disappearance is for the Arizona State Police to handle. As you can see, she’s home and she’s safe and that’s all I care about. We request you to respect our privacy and let us get on with rebuilding our lives.”

Jack slammed the back door shut and locked it.

Angela stood in the kitchen, her feet fastened to the terracotta-tiled floor. “Thank you for handling that. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“What’s a husband for, if not for protecting his wife?” He watched her behind heavy-lidded eyes. “Do you remember any of this?” He tossed the keys down on the granite countertop and swept his arm around.

She gazed around the kitchen. The appliances were top of the line stainless steel, and the cabinets were handcrafted cherry wood. There was recessed lighting in the ceiling, a built-in fireplace in the wall, and an expensive looking dinette set. The room was sparkling and neat as a pin, as if no one ever cooked in there. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I’m sure it will all come back to you sooner or later.”

“I hope. Some things have been coming in bits and pieces, just like the doctor in Ghost Rock said. She told me it’s also possible that all my memories could return at once.”

Jack had no comment.

“Where’s Heather?” she asked. Her brusque tone was unintentional, but she was anxious to hold the little girl in her arms. “I’d like to see her now.”

“I thought you’d want to relax and settle in first.” Jack lifted a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with tap water. He gulped it down and then asked, “You want some?”

She shook her head. “I just want to see Heather. She’s the only person I remember. Where is she?”

Jack’s tongue dripped with acid. “I told you she’s with a neighbor.” A muscle ticked along his jaw line. When he stalked out of the room, her mouth gaped.
What was that about? I just want to see my child. Why won’t he let me see her right now?

She trailed him to a room that looked like a den and stood in the middle of it studying the leather furniture, corner bar, hardwood floor, and stone fireplace. Jack ripped a bottle out from under the bar sink against the wall. Ice cubes clinked together as he poured a drink with a shaking hand.

Stung by his harsh manner, and taken aback over his behavior since leaving Ghost Rock, her head began to ache. With no further warning, a picture flashed before her. She and the man were arguing again. This time she saw her face—and his. She held papers in her hand and waved them in front of his nose. Liquor splashed into a cut glass tumbler. He threw the glass against the wall, shattering it. Angela jumped when the man in the flashback yelled, “You’ll always be my wife! It doesn’t matter what some damn judge says!”

“What’s the matter?” Jack barked, drawing her back to the here and now.

She blinked. “Excuse me?” She felt the color drain from her cheeks.

“You’re holding your head. What’s wrong?” He stepped toward her with a drink in his hand and softened. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to our bedroom and lie down and rest? We can pick up Heather later.”

Angela slowly backed away from him. The flashback seemed so real, and the mere mention of their bedroom made her ill. Surely he wouldn’t expect intimacy tonight.

Jack was different from the man who had come to Ghost Rock to bring her home. That Jack was concerned and accommodating. The one in front of her was intimidating and critical. But no matter what he said or did, there was no way he’d bully her into sharing a bed with him.

“I don’t need to rest,” she said. “I want to see Heather, and I’d like to discuss the sleeping arrangements. Is there a guest room in this house?”

“Of course there is.” Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. “I assumed you’d want to sleep there tonight.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I hope you can understand…”

“Don’t mention it.” His sarcasm was blatant and confusing.

“Since that’s out of the way, can we please get Heather now?”

He slammed his drink down on a side table, causing her to jump again. Alcohol sloshed out of the tumbler. “Damn it. You’re nagging already. Let me make a phone call.” He strode to the other side of the room, snatched up the phone receiver and punched in some numbers. His voice was low as he spoke to the person on the other end. When he hung up, he said, “We can go over and get her now since it seems you won’t let me rest until we do. She’s right next door. You know we’ll have to wade through the paparazzi again. That’s why I thought we should wait.”

Angela’s boots clicked across the wood floors as she hurried to the front door. She didn’t care about the paparazzi. If she could get her daughter and leave without Jack following, that’s what she’d do. He frightened her.

Icy needles pricked her spine when he caught her arm and swung her around. She flinched at his tight grip. Another picture exploded in front of her eyes. In it, he twisted her arm and shoved her to the floor. She saw herself falling and striking her head against the wall. She lay on the floor, moaning from the head injury. Before blacking out, she stared into her attacker’s eyes. It
was
Jack!

Time and space blurred. The vision faded. She peered at the arm that still showed the faint signs of a past struggle. Jerking out of his grip, she cried, “Please let go! You’re hurting me.”

His gray eyes searched her face and he let loose. Softening his tone once again, he said, “I’m sorry, honey. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

She rubbed her arm. “Don’t grab me like that.”

“I said I was sorry. I was just trying to stop you. Reporters are still out on the front lawn. Let’s go out the back door.”

She glared at him, wrought with confusion over his Jekyll and Hyde personality, but followed him to the back door. He stuck his head out to make sure the coast was clear before they scrambled across the lawn to the neighbor’s home.

An older woman answered the door and shepherded them in. A tiny brunette girl sat at a table, coloring. She jumped off the chair when she saw Angela.

“Mommy!” She ran and leaped into Angela’s waiting arms. “Mommy, I missed you.”

Angela’s fist flew to her mouth. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.” Smothering the child with kisses, she cradled Heather in her arms and smelled her hair. “I’m so happy to be with you again!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged her daughter to her breast
.

I do remember her! I remember my child. This is Heather, my baby.

“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Heather touched her mother’s hair and her cheek.

When Angela replied, her voice was tight and choked with emotion. “These are tears of happiness, pumpkin. I’m just so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad too, Mommy.” Mother and daughter cuddled again, and then Heather squirmed out of her arms and ran to Jack. “Daddy, can we go home now? I want to play with my toys.”

“Of course, honey. Thanks for watching Heather, Bev. We’ll see you later.”

Angela smiled at the neighbor she didn’t remember, and she, Jack and Heather snuck back to the house, cunningly avoiding the reporters still camped on the front lawn.

****

Miles away, Scott tucked Willow into bed.

“Why did Beth leave without telling me goodbye, Daddy?” She’d refused to remove her pink cowgirl hat, so she sat propped up in bed against her pillows with the hat tilted across one eye. She tugged on an unraveling thread from her pajama top.

“I explained it to you twice already, Willow. Her husband drove all the way from Arizona to pick her up. They had to get on the road right away because it was going to take them a long time to get back home. They didn’t have time to come out to the ranch. She asked me to tell you goodbye.”

“It’s not the same,” she pouted.

“I know.” He plucked the cowgirl hat off her head, hung it over the bedpost and kissed her forehead. As he patted down tiny flyaway hairs caused by static electricity, he said, “I know Beth didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. She would never do that on purpose.”

“Her name’s not Beth.” Willow’s lip protruded and quivered a bit.

“You’re right. I’m glad you remembered. It’s Angela. Angela West is her real name.” He felt exhausted. “We’ll talk more about this in the morning, baby. You go to sleep now and have sweet dreams about racing Midnight.”

Willow gave him a weak smile before laying down and curling her legs up to her chest. “Okay. Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to miss Angela?”

Scott pulled the comforter up to her neck and tucked it around her small shoulders. “Yes, honey. I’m going to miss her. She was a very nice person.”

“I thought she was going to become my new mother.” Willow’s big round eyes grew wet.

“Oh, Willow,” Scott drawled. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I thought she loved us. I thought she was going to stay with us forever.”

He sighed and hugged her tight. “I think she did love us, the way good friends love each other. But she has her own family. They missed her terribly. They wanted her back home. That’s where she belongs. We did the right thing by taking care of her while she was here. She will never forget us. And we’ll never forget her.”

“Are you going to marry Joanna now? Is she going to be my mother?” Willow gazed into her father’s eyes with expectant anticipation.

Scott’s face grew war,. A nervous chuckle bubbled up from his throat. “You say the darndest things sometimes.”

“What’s so funny about asking if she’s going to be my mother?”

He shook his head. Sometimes Willow sounded much older than her seven years. “Nothing, I guess. You just surprised me with the question.”

“Well, what’s the answer?”

“To be honest with you, I hadn’t given it much thought. You need to get to sleep now. It’s been a long day for all of us.” When he kissed her cheek, she didn’t even comment about his scratchy bristles.

“I don’t want you to marry Joanna. I don’t like her, and I don’t want her to be my mommy. I want Beth. I mean, Angela.” Willow scooted up in bed again and crossed her arms in a defiant fashion.

“Willow, it’s not nice to speak about Joanna like that. She’s been kind to you, and I already told you, Angela has her own family. I can’t marry her.”

She started to cry. “Why did she have to leave, Daddy? We love her. It’s not fair. When do
we
get to have a mommy again?”

Scott folded his daughter into his arms and rocked her back and forth until her sobs subsided. He had no answers for her, but he could understand how her heart was breaking, because his was, too.

Chapter Thirteen

Angela spent the night in Heather’s canopy bed, snuggled against her daughter’s soft, warm little body. She was so thankful and glad to be reunited with her child. She couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from her again. However, sleep evaded her. Her mind replayed all the beautiful memories of the moments they’d spent together—moments that had come back to Angela in a burst of memories—and none of which she ever wanted to forget. There were no longer any gaps in Angela’s life when it came to Heather. What kept her tossing and turning was the knowledge she couldn’t erase of Jack twisting her arm and pushing her against the wall.

Doctor Coleman had told her that with head trauma, it was possible for true memories to mix with dreams or even images she’d seen on television or in the news. She’d said the brain was a complicated and fascinating organ, and amnesia worked in strange and unusual ways.

Angela desperately wanted to believe the terrifying flashbacks had been just that, mixed up signals in her brain. The possibility of her husband, the father of her child, intentionally hurting her was hard to bear. But could she forget the terrifying visions? The knot on her head had been real, as well as the bruising on her arm. Who did that to her, if not Jack?

Did anyone know the truth about their relationship? Who could she turn to? Why didn’t Jack seem happier to have her home? She’d been missing for four days. He acted annoyed with her, not like a loving husband, relieved to have his wife back safe and sound. His strange split personality gave her serious pause and made her more than reluctant to trust him.

It had to be difficult for a man to see his wife on television, bring her home, and then realize she remembers nothing about him and won’t let him touch her. Still, a caring man would be sensitive to what she’d experienced. He’d do anything to find out the truth of what happened. Was Jack that kind of man? He certainly wasn’t coming across that way.

She wished she could push the flashbacks out of her mind and start over, now that she was home and with Heather again. But how could she forget them? It was going to take Jack bending over backwards and being considerate and kind for her to set her fears to rest and stop suspecting him of abuse. She was determined to try, for Heather’s sake, though he hadn’t made it easy on her first night back home.

Angela eased herself away from Heather’s sleeping little body, pulled a pair of jeans and tee shirt on, and padded down to the kitchen to start some coffee. She surprised herself when she walked straight to the cabinet where the coffee can was stored. As she spooned coffee grounds into the filter and added water, she wondered what kind of mood Jack would be in that morning.

He entered the kitchen moments later wearing jeans. “I’m staying home from work today.”

She’d thought they’d spend the day together, the three of them, but was mystified when he proceeded to spend the morning in the office behind closed doors, away from her and Heather.