Kitabı oku: «A Rancher To Remember», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Olivia shot out a hand out, grabbing Bella by the arm before she could follow her sister. How had Olivia done that—completely missed Lizzie disappearing? Tears of panic rose in her eyes.

Lizzie stood next to the irritable stallion, and it was like time slowed to a crawl and Olivia could see every single, painstaking detail as the toddler reached her hand out toward the stallion’s leg. He lifted his hoof and brought it down in a sharp stamp, dust billowing up from the ground around his hoof.

Olivia pulled Bella up into her arms and had taken a step toward the corral when Sawyer’s iron grip caught her by the shoulder.

“No,” he snapped. “Stay here.”

His tone was so authoritative that she stopped in her tracks, watching as he ducked down under a rail, easing his body through. Sawyer straightened to his full height and walked slowly toward his daughter.

The stallion snorted and pawed the ground, eyeing Sawyer with an irritable glint in his eye. Lizzie reached out and touched the stallion’s knee, and in response, the big animal reared up, hooves pawing the air.

Sawyer dashed in, caught Lizzie up in one arm, and put a protective hand up as the stallion came back down again.

“Whoa...” Sawyer intoned. “Whoa now... Hey...”

The stallion made another couple of little jumps with his front hooves, but didn’t rear again. Sawyer stayed facing the horse and backed slowly toward the fence again. When he got there, he handed Lizzie over the rails into Olivia’s arms, then ducked down and eased himself through.

Olivia held both girls tightly, her heart hammering in her chest.

“That was close—” she breathed.

“Yeah—a little too close,” Sawyer said, glancing over his shoulder toward the stallion once more. “That horse is in a mood. I doubt he’s even ridable.”

He sounded like himself again—knowledgeable, confident.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “But you did. Sawyer, you knew what to do!”

Sawyer’s gaze flipped toward her, and he smiled weakly. “I did. You’re right. I knew what to do. I knew the signs. I know what an angry horse looks like...”

“Do you remember anything else?” she asked hopefully.

Sawyer licked his lips, glanced back toward the corral. Then he sighed and took Lizzie from her arms.

“Nah. I’m trying. I don’t know why I knew what to do, I just—”

“You reacted,” she said.

“I guess.” He started toward the road, and Olivia grabbed the diaper bag and caught up to him. He was a tall man, and she almost had to jog to keep up.

“Sawyer, slow down,” she said with a low laugh.

“Sorry.” He cast her a rueful smile.

“Horsey!” Lizzie said, leaning her entire body toward the corral.

“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” Sawyer said.

They walked together in silence for a few paces, and Olivia eyed Sawyer.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was the one who had Lizzie, and I got distracted for a minute there—”

“It’s okay.” Sawyer glanced down at her, those dark eyes catching her gaze and holding it. “I guess we just found out how fast these kids are.”

“I guess,” she agreed. “I’m new to this, too.”

“Not a bad thing to know.” Sawyer looked down at Lizzie grimly. “Fast and cute. I’m in trouble.”

Olivia was tempted to laugh, but Sawyer’s solemn expression hadn’t changed a bit.

“My heart nearly stopped,” Sawyer said, turning toward Olivia. “When I saw her in there next to that horse, I thought I was going to throw up. I mean, like more than just regular panic when a kid’s not where she should be...”

“Like a dad,” Olivia said softly.

“Is that what it’s like to be a father?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said. A memory of her own dad rose in her mind—foggy, maybe even mostly made up at this point. She had a couple of pictures of her father, but he’d left them when she was eight and her brother wasn’t much older than the toddlers were.

“I feel really bad that I don’t know my daughters,” Sawyer went on. “What kind of a dad forgets his kids?”

“This accident wasn’t your fault,” she countered. At least with Sawyer it had been an accident. Her father had just walked out—done with all of them, apparently.

“I know, but—” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t remember how I felt when they were born, but I do know how I felt when I saw Lizzie in that corral. I don’t think I’ve forgotten everything.”

The toddlers both began to squirm, and they put them down to let them run ahead. Sawyer was somber.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked after some silence.

“Was I a good man?” he asked, and the question seemed to come out of the blue. She eyed him for a moment.

“Of course!” She started to smile, but then saw the seriousness in his gaze. “Sawyer, you were an upright guy. You worked hard and loved hard. You were honest. You were a real salt-of-the-earth type.”

“Thing is, I don’t remember my wife,” he said. “At least I don’t think so. I remember a black coat. Did she have a black coat?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “But honestly, Sawyer. You don’t seem to remember much of anyone. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“When I saw you, I didn’t know you, but you felt...familiar. Like with my instincts with Lizzie just now, I sensed that you were someone who mattered to me.”

“Isn’t that good to have it start to come back?” she asked tentatively.

“Did you have a black coat?” he asked.

“Maybe?” She eyed him uncertainly. “Why?”

“I think I remember a woman in a coat. Whatever. It’s not much more than that. It could be anyone. But I’ve looked at my wedding album,” Sawyer said. “I’ve held the wedding rings in my hand. I looked at the engagement ring I bought for her...and nothing. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Did you feel anything when you saw my picture?” she asked.

He hesitated. “No.”

“Maybe it’s just that—I’m a real person. A picture is different.”

Olivia put a hand on his arm and they slowed to a stop. The girls stopped ahead to investigate some buttercups at the side of the road.

“Sawyer, you were a good guy,” she said firmly. “And you loved each other. Mia knew you inside and out, and she trusted you.”

“Then why did you back off?” he asked pointedly. “You’d think we could have emailed, kept up on social media...something.”

Why did he keep picking at this? Why did he want to know every uncomfortable detail about their friendship? In some ways, they had been too close. In other ways, they’d never opened up enough. It had been a painful balancing act toward the end, and it was a relief when Mia had gone all moon-eyed over him, because Mia had been willing to throw herself into a relationship with Sawyer. That was the way these things were supposed to work—fall for each other, and then go for it! When it came to Sawyer and Olivia, they’d fallen for each other, and then held back.

“I was leaving town. I hated this place, Sawyer! What do you want me to say? I couldn’t make my life here—I needed the city, where no one knew me so I could figure out who I was from scratch. This town is gossipy and can be downright cruel. I was ready to shake the dust off my boots and get out of here. Beaut couldn’t be my home. You knew that. Besides, you had Mia. So maybe that was a bit painful for me.”

Sawyer paused. She’d said too much already.

“Why was that painful?”

“I backed off after your wedding because you told me to,” she said, tears misting her eyes, and she remembered what it felt like to have Sawyer look her in the eye and ask her to go away for a while. It had hurt—it had felt a whole lot like betrayal. But she’d understood, too. “You asked me to give you space, and I did.”

Sawyer nodded. “The thing is, I don’t think I would have asked you to back off unless my feelings for you were a threat to my marriage.”

There it was—his worry. He was wondering if he was the kind of guy to be emotionally unfaithful to his wife. Well, she could set him straight there.

“Feelings—what do they matter?” Olivia demanded. “They come and they go. A vow—that matters! You chose the right woman, and every choice after that was in defense of your marriage. Those choices matter. You weren’t untrue to her. The fact that you guarded your marriage means it was worth guarding, not that I was any threat. I promise you that.”

“You sure?” he asked quietly.

“Positive. I’m not that kind of woman, either. Trust me.” She’d been Mia’s best friend, after all. And just because she’d backed away from Sawyer didn’t mean that her friendship with Mia had been over. “Mia had your heart, and was confident in that. You were not in love with me. Maybe I was a little too close, but it wasn’t more than that. She would have cut me off if it were. Trust me. She guarded those boundaries, too.”

Sawyer was quiet. “Good.”

“You were faithful, Sawyer. In every way. You were in love with Mia. You’ll remember that soon enough. I know it.”

“So why don’t I remember her?” he asked. “If she was the woman I was in love with—”

“Maybe because it was easy with her,” Olivia replied. “She didn’t fight with you like I did. Maybe you remember more of me because I made you so mad.”

“I thought we got along,” he said.

“We did...but I could still drive you nuts.” She shot him a grin. “Like no other.”

Most of all, she’d driven him crazy because she couldn’t be what he’d wanted. Not even if she’d tried to be. Olivia believed in God working all things together for good. She’d come to Beaut to help her own family on this trip, but maybe God had sent her to help Sawyer, too. In some mysterious way. She’d never been the wife for Sawyer, but maybe she could help him to remember the good guy he’d been. He deserved that.

* * *

That night, after the twins were asleep and the disconcertingly pretty Olivia had gone to bed, Sawyer sat in the kitchen, his elbows resting on the table. He couldn’t sleep. It was possible that he’d had coffee too late in the day. Was that a problem for him normally? He had no idea.

The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of a clock behind him on the wall.

I’m scared. I don’t know who I am.

Sawyer sent the thought out there into the unknown, and he felt a little better, somehow, for having done it.

He wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it felt familiar, putting his feelings into words...into a plea. Having his head empty of memories was a strange burden. He was flapping in the wind with nothing to nail him down. He remembered a few odd things—like that marker, or how to make coffee, or how to deal with an angry horse. He wasn’t completely helpless, exactly, but he had no people in his head, no connections beyond what he’d formed over the last couple of days. He desperately wished he could remember Mia, because while losing his wife must have been a horrible blow, the loneliness of forgetting her was deafening.

Sawyer heard boots on the step. The side door opened and Lloyd came in. The older man was dusty, and one pant leg was coated in half-dried mud. He pulled off his trucker hat and tossed it onto a peg. Without the hat, Lloyd looked softer, somehow. And a little goofier. That beaten-up hat seemed to give the man credibility.

“Fourteen new calves,” Lloyd announced.

“Yeah?” Sawyer cast about in his brain, looking for an appropriate reply. This used to be his work. This used to be second nature to him.

“Do you remember what that means?” Lloyd asked. “It’s the spring calve.”

Sawyer shrugged. “Sorry. Wish I was more help. I assume that’s a good thing—the calves.”

Maybe if Sawyer was tossed into a calving emergency, something would come back.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing.” Lloyd cast him an indulgent smile. “There’ll be more tonight, too. And tomorrow. So far so good. No complications. The ranch hands are working hard...not that I’m trying to make you feel bad.”

“I could come out with you,” Sawyer offered.

“Nah. Not yet. I can’t be keeping you out of trouble while doing my own work. Don’t worry about it. You just rest up and get better. How’s the head feeling?”

Sawyer reached up and touched the bandage. “It’s still bruised. It doesn’t ache like before, though.”

“That’s something,” Lloyd said. “You shoulda seen you drop. I thought you’d cracked a bone in that thick skull of yours.”

Sawyer chuckled. “I remembered something today. Sort of.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd stopped, fixing him with a hopeful look.

“Olivia and I went out with the girls. Lizzie got into the corral, and I knew what to do. This big, angry stallion was rearing, and I was able to get her out of there. I just...knew what to do.”

“That’s excellent.” His uncle grinned. “Do you remember the chores? What to do in the barn?”

“I—” Sawyer tried to think, push through the dark fog. “Maybe I would if I was faced with them. I don’t know... I mean—”

“It’s okay. It hasn’t been that long since the accident.” Lloyd shook his head.

“I figured out which kid was which,” Sawyer added.

“You remembered?” Lloyd asked. “The doctor said that when it starts to come back, it might happen fast—”

“Not exactly,” Sawyer admitted. “We...got them to say their names. And then I wrote their initials in permanent marker on their hands.”

“Olivia didn’t stop you?” Lloyd asked with a low laugh.

“Nope.”

“Well... I guess we’ll be clear on who’s who, then.” Lloyd shook his head. “That’s like you, though. Pragmatic. It’ll wash off eventually.”

“Yeah, but for now, I need it. Their father should at least know them apart, right?”

Lloyd looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “It’ll come back, you know. The doctors both said you’ll remember again.”

“I know,” he replied.

“So, this won’t be forever, this...this...purgatory you’re living in.” Lloyd squinted at him.

“Sure hope not,” Sawyer said. “I don’t like not knowing who I am.”

“You’re still you,” Lloyd countered. “You’re still my nephew, whether you remember all the years we worked together or not. You’re family—that’s just a fact.”

Like his girls—they were still his. His memories didn’t cement them to him...not fully, at least. There was something deeper that connected them. Blood. Or a wedding vow. Olivia had said that counted for more than feelings, and maybe she was right.

“I appreciate it,” Sawyer said, and when he looked up at the older man, he saw tears glistening in his eyes.

Lloyd cleared his throat and blinked back the emotion. “I’ll get you out working with me again, even if I have to teach you from scratch.”

“I could start now,” Sawyer said. “If I’m beginning to remember a couple of things, it might help.”

“After calving,” Lloyd said. “When it slows down a bit. Then I’ll show you the ropes. Once the doctor gives you the all clear. If you toppled over out there—”

“I’m not going to topple over,” Sawyer retorted.

“Didn’t think you’d get kicked in the head the first time,” Lloyd said. “That happens again, and you might be dead. So no, not yet. After calving.”

Sawyer nodded. The thought of getting out there and learning to be useful again was appealing. Maybe by then, he wouldn’t have to be taught from scratch anymore, and he’d remember his job.

“Say, if I drink coffee too late in the day, does it keep me awake?” Sawyer asked.

“Yup.” Lloyd glanced toward the pot. “You never drink it after noon.”

“Good to know,” he said, then smiled wryly. “I guess I’ll be up for a while.”

Lloyd peeled off his boots, then headed for the kitchen sink. He turned on the tap and squirted some dish soap into his hands.

“Olivia said I used to drink my coffee with cream and sugar,” he added.

“You used to. That was a while ago. Then your doctor warned you about all that sugar, and you went cold turkey and learned to like it black. Why...you going back to the old way?”

“No, I still like it black,” he said.

Lloyd finished washing his hands and turned toward him. “See? It’s all in there. Just a matter of getting it back again.”

“Yup.” That’s what Olivia kept saying, too. They seemed to recognize him still, even if he couldn’t recognize himself.

“You used to sit up in the kitchen reading your Bible,” Lloyd went on. “It was your way to unwind and get your mind settled to sleep. You’d drink some warm milk and read a passage or two.”

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You know, if you wanted to go through some motions and see if it helped kick-start anything.”

“Thanks. I might try that.”

“You’re a Christian, Sawyer.”

“Huh.” He sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know that.”

“Hold on.” Lloyd headed out of the kitchen, leaving Sawyer alone. He returned a moment later with a worn, black Bible in one hand. He deposited it on the kitchen table.

Sawyer opened the Bible randomly and saw some blue pen underlines. He flipped another few pages and found more.

“This is mine?”

“Yup.”

Sawyer flipped to the front, and he saw his name printed on the dedication page. Underneath was written, From your dad.

“My dad gave it to me,” he murmured, and he had a flash of something in his memory...an aroma—a mixture of Old Spice cologne and hay. It was a little musky. But he couldn’t recall a face.

“You remembering something?” Lloyd asked.

“I don’t know. Almost. It’s close.”

“Your old man gave you that Bible when you were a teenager. He died before your senior year and you came to live here with me.”

“Oh...” Sawyer nodded a couple of times, sadness oozing up inside of him. Funny to grieve for a man he couldn’t remember, but that scent was in his head now, and it was probably the smell he associated with his dad. It was a start.

“He’d be glad to know you’ve still got that Bible,” Lloyd said. “He was a man of faith.”

Sawyer leafed through the pages again, and he touched a place where there was some underlining in blue pen.

“You underlined the passages that meant something to you,” Lloyd said.

“I guess they wouldn’t mean much to me now,” he said quietly.

“Says who?” Lloyd retorted. “That’s the thing with the Good Book. You read something once and it speaks to your heart. Then you read it again a few years later, and you don’t remember what it meant to you back then, but it suddenly means something a bit different. I almost envy you tonight.”

“Why’s that?” Sawyer asked.

“Because you get to read those passages again for the first time.”

Sawyer looked down at the worn pages. Some had torn and had been taped back together again. He thumbed through some pages, and the Bible naturally opened toward the middle, in the book of Psalms. He smoothed a hand over the words, his calloused fingers making a whispering noise against the rice-paper-thin pages. He didn’t remember how to pray, either, but he knew the concept of it.

I’m scared. I don’t know who I am.

And this time, he knew Who he was directing those words toward in his heart.

“Where should I start—” he began to ask, lifting his head. But Lloyd had left the room. Sawyer was alone again, but he didn’t feel quite so isolated this time. The Bible was open on the table in front of him. His gaze fell to Psalm 121.

The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.

The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for

evermore.

“From this time forth, and even for evermore,” Sawyer murmured.

Whatever was in the past was gone so completely that he couldn’t even remember it. But if God would guide his steps from now on...if Sawyer could face this strange, confusing, memory-less world with God at his side, maybe he could find his footing, after all.

Lord, I don’t remember what You’ve done for me. I don’t remember what I’ve done wrong, or right. I don’t even know if I’m a good man. I have this nagging feeling that I wasn’t as good as I should have been, and I can’t let that rest. I just know that I’m adrift and alone, and I’m scared. Lloyd said I was a Christian. And I want to continue being one. If You’ll take me.

Sawyer felt a warmth around him, and his fears seemed to drift away. In the here and now, he was not alone, and he had a feeling that he never had been. He used to know God, and even if his memories were gone, there was a part of him that had kept on praying out into the void. He flipped the pages of his Bible again, and his gaze stopped at another passage that had been underlined, re-underlined, and even highlighted.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

And with those words, his first memory came flooding back. He was in a drafty room with other children, and a lady was sitting in front of them in a modest dress, her knees pressed together. She had thick glasses and a sweet smile.

“Let’s say it all together,” she’d intoned. “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want...’”

And they’d all recited the words together, monotone and flat in the way kids did when they’d memorized something.

“‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures...’ Mrs. Willoughby,” Sawyer said aloud, and tears pricked at his eyes.

He remembered her! She was kind and smelled like peppermints. She’d always had tissues on hand because she suffered from hay fever, and she sneezed a lot. He cast about, feeling for more memories that were connected to this one, but he couldn’t land on anything. Just the image of that Sunday school teacher sitting in front of the class, a tissue clasped in one hand, as she helped them recite the Twenty-Third Psalm.

But it was something more than a frustrating fragment about a black coat he couldn’t quite place—he had one solid memory!