Wife With Amnesia (9 page)

Her eyes filled with tears. “I want that, too. I want to start making those new memories with you, Matt.”

The fist squeezing Matt's heart eased a notch. He brushed his lips gently against hers. “Then that's what we're going to do. We're going to start making those new memories one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Claire repeated against his lips and went into his arms.

And as she offered him her mouth, Matt began the torture of kissing Claire, loving her, wanting her, needing her—knowing all the while that in the end he still might lose her.

“O
h, thank you so much for the jacket and booties,” a very pregnant Maggie Gallagher Reed told Claire the following Sunday afternoon as the shower guests began to depart. “I just love it and so will Daniel or Daniela,” she said, patting her protruding tummy.

“You're welcome, and so is my niece or nephew,” Claire replied, and attempted to return the other woman's hug—no small feat considering Maggie's basketball-size belly stood between them. “But the truth is I had a hard time stopping myself from buying out the store. There were so many adorable things, Maggie. And I wanted them all!”

“Don't I know it. Dan swears I've already bought enough stuff to open my own baby store. And now all of this.” Laughing she gestured to the pile of boxes, baby clothes, toys and gifts stacked in and around the playpen sporting a bright yellow bow. “He may be right.”

“Well, if you do open a shop, you can count on me as a customer.”

Maggie's eyes, so like her brother's, widened. “Claire, do you mean that you and Matt have decided—”

“No,” Claire said hurriedly, realizing at once that Maggie thought she'd meant that she and Matt were trying to have a baby. “I meant that with you expecting a baby and with the twins, I'll have lots of nieces and nephews to buy things for.”

Maggie flushed. “Of course. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean I know that you and Matt…” She paused, gave her head a shake. “I guess I'm so happy about this baby that I think everyone in the world should have one, too. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“You didn't,” Claire assured her sister-in-law.

“Excuse me,” Maggie said and turned to say goodbye to a departing guest.

Her thoughts still on Maggie's misinterpretation of her remark about the baby store, Claire realized she was disappointed that she wasn't planning or expecting a baby of her own. Which was ridiculous, she told herself. How could she become pregnant if she and Matt weren't even sleeping together? But the thought persisted. Did she and Matt want children? Had they planned to have a family? Matt appeared to like children, and they seemed to like him. She'd watched him play with his two nephews and toss the football with little Billy down the street. He would make a good father, she thought.

And what about her? Would she be a good mother? They'd been married over two years and she would soon be thirty. So why was there no room in the house designated for a nursery? Had the woman she'd been before waking up in that hospital been too busy building a business to consider building little bodies?

“Claire, dear, the cake was absolutely delicious,” Maureen Gallagher said, jarring Claire from her musings.

“Mom's right,” Maggie said as she rejoined her. “It was heavenly and I plan to indulge myself with leftover cake when everyone's gone.”

“Assuming there's any cake left,” Maureen told her daughter. “Your father and Dan are back. Last time I saw them they were divvying it up with your sister.”

“Over my dead body,” Maggie declared, and waddled full steam toward the kitchen.

Claire and her mother-in-law both laughed. “You're a wicked woman, Maureen Gallagher. I saw the look you gave Mr. Tommy in the kitchen when he mentioned he might have another slice of that cake.”

Maureen shrugged, but her lips twitched. “Tommy wouldn't pay any attention if I was the one to tell him he'd had enough sweets and needed to watch his cholesterol. Having his baby girl tell him he can't have that cake is much more effective.”

“Were you always so smart?” Claire asked, impressed.

“I'm not sure it's a question of my being smart, but rather simply my knowing my family. And I consider you a part of my family, Claire. I hope you know that. I've always thought of you as a daughter,” Maureen said, her voice soft, serious.

“Thank you,” Claire said, warmed by the other woman's words, unsure what she should say.

“No need to thank me. It just is. And as a mother, I usually know when something's troubling one of my children. You looked like you were having some heavy thoughts a moment ago. If there's anything you want to talk about, I'm a good listener.”

She touched Maureen's arm. “I appreciate the offer.
But I'm not sure
heavy
is the right word to describe my thought processes these days. I find myself wondering about a lot of things. Unfortunately, I still can't remember much about my life before…before I was hurt. Sometimes it can be a bit frustrating.”

“I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. Is there anything I can do to help? Or am I being one of those meddlesome mothers-in-law one always hears about who sticks her nose in her children's lives instead of minding her own business?”

Claire grinned at the image Maureen painted because it was so totally off the mark. “You're a great mother-in-law, and I appreciate your concern. Really I do. But I'm afraid there isn't anything you can do—not unless you can give me my memory back.”

“That, I'm afraid, I can't do. But if I could, I would. I hope you know that.”

“I do. Thank you for offering.”

“Anytime,” Maureen told her, and patted her hand.

“Looks like Matthew's here,” the woman who'd been introduced to her as Aunt Rosie said from her position at the window. Within moments Claire heard the sound of the front door opening and male laughter spilling inside.

“That's some wind blowing out there. You ladies better watch your skirts.”

Claire's pulse jumped at the sound of Matt's voice. Her glance went immediately to the doorway and him.

“Holy cow, Dan! That's some belly Mag's got on her. You sure she's carrying a baby and not a whale?”

“Watch it, pal,” Maggie snarled. “That's your future niece or nephew you're insulting.” She ran one hand over her stomach and wielded a cake knife in the other.

“Just kidding,” Matt said, flashing his sister a quick grin.

“You had better be,” Maggie told him, and swooped a finger of chocolate frosting from the knife and popped it into her mouth.

“Hey, is that from Claire's chocolate cake? If there's any left, I want some—”

Maggie blocked his path and held up her cake knife like a sword. “Not a chance, buster. Go sweet-talk your wife into baking you one of your own.”

“Good idea.” The grin he gave his sister was lightning quick and lethal, Claire thought as he turned it in her direction. Claire's breath hitched as he started toward her, his eyes dark, hungry, intent.

“Not so fast, Matthew Gallagher. Come give your aunt Rosie a kiss.”

“Poor Matthew,” Maureen said, chuckling as Rosie snagged Matt. “I suppose I should go rescue my son.”

Claire's jaw dropped as his colorful aunt snared Matt. With her tinted blond hair, red lipstick and flamboyant clothing, the ninety-something Rosie Gallagher was an unusual addition to the refined, respectable family Claire found herself a part of by way of marriage to Matt. “Um. She certainly is interesting,” Claire said, not sure how to respond to her mother-in-law's comment.

Maureen laughed. “I don't think I've ever heard anyone describe Aunt Rosie quite so nicely before,” Maureen told her. “One thing's for sure, you can always count on Aunt Rosie to liven things up at family gatherings.”

“Yes, I noticed.” The woman had raised more than one eyebrow with her gift to Maggie—a skimpy black teddy with instructions that it be worn after the baby was
born when Maggie was ready to hit the sheets again with her husband.

“But she's got a good heart, and Aunt Rosie adores her nieces and nephews. Of course, Matt being such a charmer, he's always been her favorite.”

“It certainly appears that way,” Claire replied, unable to miss the way the older woman beamed as she clung to Matt.

“Oh, look at those pleading looks he keeps shooting at me.” Maureen sighed. “I guess I really should be nice and go save the boy before Rosie tries to con him into taking her down on Bourbon Street again.”

Claire nearly choked at the very idea of Rosie Gallagher on the infamous New Orleans street noted for sex, sin and strippers. She cut a glance at her mother-in-law's face. Surely the woman was joking.

“On second thought, sometimes I think it's a lot more fun being wicked. So I think I'll just let Matt handle Aunt Rosie by himself, and you and I can chat a bit longer before he sweeps you off and keeps you all to himself again.”

Mention of Matt keeping her all to himself made Claire flush. “I have to admit I feel a little foolish having Matt play chauffeur for me. I mean, I really could have driven myself today. But he insisted it didn't make any sense for us to take separate cars since he was going off with his father and the guys and would be back when the party was over, anyway.”

“Why should you feel foolish, child? It sounds perfectly reasonable to me—especially since Tommy and I came together for the same reason.”

“I guess you're right,” Claire conceded. But she suspected Matt's reason for insisting he drive her today differed from his father's. She believed his reasons were
rooted in his continued concern about her since the attack. At least, that's the conclusion she'd come to for Matt going to such great lengths to make sure she was never alone at the shop or at home. Not that the stubborn man would ever admit it. He'd even denied it when she'd called him on it. But she'd seen that worried look in his eyes more than once and the way he always made sure he was waiting for her when she got home.

“Oh, look, he managed to get away,” Maureen said.

“I guess you were right about him being able to handle Aunt Rosie on his own,” Claire said, watching with amusement as Matt escaped his aunt only to find himself waylaid by his two nephews again.

“So I was,” Maureen replied.

“Uh-oh,” she said as the two toddlers wrapped themselves around his legs.

“Uh-oh is right. I adore my grandsons, but they are a handful.”

“Matt doesn't seem to mind. He's very good with children,” Claire said more to herself than to Maureen as her thoughts once again turned to babies.

“He always did have a gift when it came to the little ones.”

“I was thinking earlier that he's going to make a great father someday,” Claire murmured.

“Is the thought of having a baby one of the things that's been troubling you?”

Claire opened her mouth, closed it again. “Are you also a mind reader?”

The other woman smiled. “No. But they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Your eyes had that same worried look they had earlier when you were talking to Maggie. It wasn't hard to figure out that whatever's troubling you has something to do with having a baby.”

Claire looked down at her hands, at the wedding ring on her finger. “It's difficult not remembering things, not knowing what kind of personal decisions I've made, that Matt and I have made together.”

“Decisions like whether or not to have a child?”

Claire nodded. “I don't have any idea whether we wanted a family and decided to wait or if we decided not to have children at all.”

Maureen touched her hand. “Can I offer you a piece of advice, dear?”

“Of course.”

“Instead of worrying about when your memory will come back and trying to remember what you wanted in the past, why don't you listen to what your heart tells you that you want now?”

 

Claire listened to her heart during the week that followed. And what her heart kept telling her was that she wanted Matt. She was in love with him, Claire realized. She wasn't sure how or even when it had happened. She only knew that sometime between waking up in that hospital bed five weeks ago and driving to work today, she had fallen in love with her husband. She didn't remember the man she had fallen in love with two years ago.

She only knew that she'd fallen in love with the man she'd come to know these past five weeks. The man who didn't care about ruining an expensive shirt while he put storm shutters on the window for the elderly spinster across the street. The man who found time to toss a football with the fatherless boy who lived down the block. The man who snuck expensive caviar to the stray kitten that had taken up residence as a squatter in their backyard. The man who made her laugh, who bullied her into eating right and who calmed her fears when it thundered,
without making her feel foolish. The man who made her feel cherished simply because he loved her. How a child that nobody wanted could be so lucky, she wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that the stars had kissed her by sending Matt into her life, by making him her husband. And she was in love with him. She was in love with Matt and she wanted him.

And she didn't have a clue how to go about telling him that she was ready to be his wife again, that she wanted to make love with him. The timer on the oven dinged, and Claire removed the pastry shells for the chocolate eclairs and set them on the rack. Shucking her oven mitts, she washed and dried her hands. After slipping on a pair of disposable gloves, she took the pastry knife and proceeded to slice the tops off the empty shells to ready them for filling. And as she worked, her thoughts once again turned to Matt.

She ran through a half dozen scenarios in her head of how to tell him, and dismissed every one of them. Sighing, she began to fill the shells with the chocolate pudding mixture. It would be so much easier, she mused, if they were sleeping in the same bed. Recalling that first night Matt had brought her home from the hospital, Claire smiled as she remembered the way his eyes had nearly popped when he'd seen her wearing that pajama top and nothing else. Perhaps that's where she should start—with a trip to the lingerie store, some chilled wine, soft music and, for a change, she would be the one waiting at home for him.

Caught up in making plans, she hummed as she worked. When she turned around to get the chocolate icing, she shrieked at the sight of the stranger standing in the doorway.