Charlene Sands (2 page)

H
e sat in the kitchen, the effort taking a good deal of strength, yet he was determined not to go back to that bed. Leastways, not too soon. He’d been here for two weeks, letting Jenna wait on him, worry over him, cater to him. He hated it, the being useless part. He wasn’t accustomed to having anyone tend him so, but how he knew that he wasn’t certain. He only knew it for fact.

But Jenna. He didn’t mind having her around. No, sir. He’d spent his time watching her flutter about the room, feeding him, tending to his wounds, her hands on him every day. He sure liked Jenna putting her hands on him. Fact is, he liked just about everything about Jenna Duncan. That was one reason he wasn’t about to take advantage of her good intentions another day. It was about time he did something around here to help out.

He lifted a coffee mug to his lips and sipped it easily enough. Simple things, coming slowly, but
they were coming. For four days now, he’d been out of bed, walking the room when Jenna wasn’t in sight. The stretch of his legs felt good and he’d been getting stronger every day. She’d be bent if she found out, pampering him too much. Like he deserved it or something. Yet he was recovering. Thanks to Jenna.

The woman saved his life.

He owed her.

He still couldn’t get around the marrying part, though. She said he’d come here to marry her. A man should have memory of those feelings, shouldn’t he? Gut instinct told him he wasn’t a marrying man. But that’s all he had to go on these days. He had no real memory of anything. Not one solid thing.

She gasped when she saw him at the table, her rosy cheeks flustered, her eyes blinking wide. “B-Blue, you’re up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sipped his coffee, then narrowed her a look. She was staring at him. Hell, he’d struggled into his pants, but she wasn’t looking there. Her gaze was fixed on his bare chest. Shocking her hadn’t been his intent, yet he didn’t have any choice but to come into her kitchen this way. He had little to call his own, a shirt being foremost on the list.

Slowly, she lowered an overflowing basket of eggs to the table. He’d seen her coming away from the henhouse minutes ago.

“I couldn’t find any clothes,” he said.

Heat rose up her face, her cheeks reminding him of an overripe peach. Her flushed look stirred something in him. And when she drew in her lip, his gaze followed the movement. He thought of all the times she’d sat down on the bed to tend him. If he’d been more than barely conscious, he would’ve enjoyed having her there. He pictured her there now and the stirring became a near physical thing. Made him real uncomfortable.

“I, uh, burned them. Your shirt and underthings. There was too much blood. I should’ve thought…uh, Bobby Joe’s shirts will fit. I’ll bring one to you.”

“Bobby Joe?”

“My brother,” she said, before dashing out of the room.

Hell, she had a brother? Where was he? And why was Jenna stuck doing the work of three men on this farm, when she had a brother? He’d seen her come in after a hard day, her brows furrowed, her skin burnished from the sun’s heat, her eyes weary with fatigue. She’d come at night to tend him, trying to pretend that she wasn’t dog-tired. Being cheerful and positive of his recovery. But he knew what she’d sacrificed to take care of him.

“Here, Blue,” she said, coming back into the room with no real intention of meeting his eyes. She handed him the shirt and backed away. “I’ll
have breakfast ready soon. Eggs and bacon with biscuits.”

It was the same food she’d been offering since he was able to eat anything solid. “I’ll help.”

She whirled around and her gaze fastened to his, pleading. “No need. You should go back to bed.”

He stood and put on the shirt. “I’m gonna help,” he said firmly. He’d been in her care far too long. He needed to do something with his hands, his time. He wasn’t one to allow others to do for him yet how he knew that fact he hadn’t a clue. “I can’t do much, but I’ll be damned to spend another day in that bed, doing nothing.”

She watched his fingers work the buttons of her brother’s shirt and then lifted her eyes to his. “You’re alive, Blue,” she said softly. “And that’s all that matters.”

Oh, damn. He’d upset her, making it seem her fault for keeping him down in that bed for two weeks. She’d done nothing much really, except save his sorry life. She’d come in late at night to tend him. She’d check on him, sometimes in the predawn hours, when she should have been sleeping herself. She’d sacrificed her time and energy to make him comfortable. And he was punishing her for it.

He approached her, watching her eyes flutter nervously, like a butterfly ready to wing away. Slowly, carefully, he put his hand to her cheek and
let the softness seep into his skin. “I’m sorry. I haven’t even thanked you for saving my life.”

Her lips quivered, from fear or from something else, he didn’t quite know. “What else would I do, Blue?” Her eyes, not so guarded now, shone bright and filled with a shimmering glow.

He backed away, suddenly realizing the full impact of what his touch evoked from her. The look on her face told all. Jenna had real feelings for him. Feelings he didn’t have, or couldn’t remember. Feelings he wasn’t sure he was capable of sharing. Everything inside his head was gray and clouded like a threatening thunderstorm. Nothing was sky-blue clear. Not one blasted thing.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked, pouring her a mug of coffee, attempting to let that unguarded moment slip away. He grabbed a knife to slice off bacon for the griddle she was preparing.

“Bobby Joe? Gone. He comes home from time to time. It’s been more than a year since I’ve seen him.”

“Why isn’t he here, working the farm? Helping you?”

He noticed Jenna beat the eggs faster and harder while she shook her head. “He’s not one for farming. I share my crops with Ben and his wife. We’re partners now. We manage.”

“Still, your brother, he should be—”

She turned to face him then with a defensive lift
of her chin. “I don’t like talking about Bobby Joe, Blue. You know that.”

“I do?”

“Yes, well… I mean, you should know from the letters.”

“Oh? You’re talking about the letters I don’t remember?”

Her face fell instantly and he hated putting that look there. Jenna, it seemed, needed him to remember his past as much as he did. They were strangers in nearly every sense, until his memory returned.

“I’m sorry, Blue. This can’t be easy on you. But, it’s just that we shared so much and now, it’s as though you’re a, a—”

“Stranger?” He said the word she’d been reluctant to admit.

“Yes, a stranger.”

“Maybe I am, Jenna. Maybe I’m not Blue Montgomery at all.”

Jenna’s eyes danced then and her face lit with joy. The transformation was instant and quite remarkable. It made him want to smile. “Of course you’re Blue. How’d you think you got that name? I’ve never seen a body with more blue in their eyes. They struck me when I first met you years ago. Nobody’s got eyes that color, Blue. Nobody but you.”

“And then there’s the Bible with my name in it, right?” he asked, wanting so much to be Blue
Montgomery for Jenna. Wanting to remember everything.

“Right,” she said.

And he sat down to share the morning meal with the woman he was supposed to love, the woman he came here to marry, pushing aside the doubt that shoved its way through his gut.

Jenna sat that night alone on the porch, looking out over the land ready to be cultivated and planted and felt a pang of pride in her farm. Twin Oaks was
her
farm. Not Bobby Joe’s. He hadn’t put in so much as one short day’s work on this farm since her daddy died some years back. Bobby Joe had no rights where Twin Oaks was concerned. None. With the help of Ben and Rosalinda, she’d worked the land, toiled until her back ached and her hair hung down damp from sweat to make this land prosper. She had crops of corn and soybeans growing, hogs in the pen, more than two dozen chickens, a tough Percheron plow horse and a big beautiful milk cow named Larabeth. Soon, the land would be ready to nurture their main crop of wheat. It wasn’t much as far as farms go, but they made do and one day, Twin Oaks would prosper again.

“It’s my farm, Bobby Joe,” she whispered into the still night. “You have no claim.” The farm was hers by rights. She wouldn’t think about it again. Heavens, she hadn’t given her brother a
thought in months, thankfully. She’d been able to put what he’d done in the past, where it belonged. She wanted to look forward to a future. With Blue. She wanted to see her life filled with children, thriving on this farm. All she’d wanted now, all she’d yearned for, was a family to call her own. She’d dreamed of nothing else, besides a healthy crop, of course.

Her mama and papa had been taken from her early in her life. And as painful as it was true, Bobby Joe wasn’t much of a brother. Her only relation had disappointed and betrayed her more times than she could count. And his most recent act of betrayal had been the last straw.

He’d gambled the farm and lost, causing Jenna nothing but heartache. How many times had she prayed for Bobby Joe’s soul? She wished and hoped he’d change his philandering ways. She’d like nothing better than to have a brother who shared the same love of the land as she. What relief she’d feel to have someone sharing in the decision-making. To know that no matter what freak of nature or manner of fate occurred, that they’d find their way.

And now, she’d hoped that she’d find that solace with Blue Montgomery. Things hadn’t turned out as planned with him. It wasn’t his fault he’d been shot and left for dead. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember the loving words he’d sent to her, the comfort he’d lent, the offer he’d made to
make Twin Oaks what it once was. No, it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember those things. Oh, how she wished he could.

And then a thought struck and Jenna giggled aloud. How silly of her not to have thought of it before this. How silly, indeed. “Jenna, you’ve gone and lost half your mind over Blue Montgomery,” she sang out happily.

Why, maybe Blue only needed a nudge, something familiar to help him regain his memory. Maybe all Blue needed was to see firsthand the letters he’d sent her.

Jenna was up off the old rocker on the porch faster than a wily jackrabbit and dashed to her room, her mind spinning with hope-filled thoughts. She bent down and dug out a small hand-carved burl-wood chest. It had been her mama’s and it was Jenna’s most prized possession. That Blue’s letters were stored in there made it all the more exceptional.

With great care, she lifted the packet of those twenty-seven letters, wrapped lovingly with bright yellow ribbon and brought them close to her heart. She recalled all of the times she’d pull a letter out of the stack randomly, like picking a flower from a full bouquet, and read the words that brought her so much joy. It was her way, to ease the toil of the day, to gift herself with Blue’s thoughts until another letter would arrive from him.

Jenna smiled with satisfaction. How could Blue,
after reading his own words, not remember her? Or the feelings they shared? This would work, she was sure of it.

When Jenna reached Blue’s door, she held back. While he was recuperating, she’d made herself at home in his room, free to enter and exit as she pleased. But now that he was up and around, she’d grant him his privacy. Lord above, after seeing him this morning, looking virile and manly, without a covering to his chest, she was certain barging in on him wouldn’t be wise for a young female who was deeply and hopelessly in love.

No, not wise, she thought as heat traveled the length of her. Soon, Blue would be her husband. And the thought nearly stole her breath. Although she’d tended him and seen most of his body, covering up the male parts that needed covering, it had been different this morning in the kitchen. More intimate, and more appealing. Blue was a fine specimen. All male, rugged and handsome with rough stubble on his face that he’d be wanting to shave off soon. She’d known his heart through his letters, but seeing him this morning had made her nervous. A good kind of nervous, she mused. She wanted to know his body.

Jenna’s heart raced thinking about lying with him. She was sure that she wanted all the intimacies that went along with being married. If only Blue would remember.

She knocked on his door.

The door thrust open quickly and Blue stood there, watching her, a half smile playing on his lips. “Come to give me a bath?”

Startled by his quick response and by his question, Jenna drew back. Good heavens, he looked handsome, with those intense blue eyes fixing on her. And good heavens again, he looked dangerous tonight, but not the kind of danger that put fear in her heart. This danger was different, exciting. “No, I uh, I came to…” She glanced down to the letters she held tightly to her chest wondering now if he’d think her foolish. “I, uh, thought if you read these, you’d remember,” she said and thrust the cherished packet into his hands.

“Remember?” He lifted the letters up and gave them only a cursory glance before the heat of his gaze returned to her.

“Me. Us. The letters might jar your memory.”

He laughed then, a good solid laugh that brought a smile to her lips. “What’s funny?”

“Letters won’t make a man remember a woman, sugar.”

“No?” Baffled Jenna could only stare up at him. What did he mean? Being on a remote farm, miles away from town, and little reason to venture there, Jenna had little experience with men in general, but even less experience with the way Blue was looking at her now. Her heartbeats sped up though and she knew one thing, all right. Blue Montgomery made her insides quake.

He shook his head. “A man remembers a woman in different ways.”

“But we only met once, when we were children.”

“Don’t matter none, Jenna.” He stared at her lips and stepped closer, coming out of the doorway. “There’s ways a woman can jar a man’s memory. Fact is, I’ve been thinking plenty about it.”

Jenna took a swallow. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah.” Blue reached out and touched her cheek and before she knew it, that same hand wrapped around her neck, drawing her close. “Plenty.”