Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (30 page)

There hadn't been any of the awkwardness she would have expected after they'd slept together, since they'd barely had a chance to touch upon it this morning. The foal's birth had interrupted their conversation, making it easy to avoid asking him, “Now what? Where do we go from here?”

Then Dr. Martinez had provided another diversion when he'd arrived with his surprising revelation.

Chloe found the news almost overwhelming and couldn't begin to imagine how Joe must feel.

Just moments ago, he'd asked her to call Sheriff Hollister and relay the recent development, which was probably because he was still trying to wrap his mind around it and wasn't ready to talk about his thoughts.

So, using the kitchen phone, she dialed the sheriff's office. When he answered, Chloe filled him in.

“Well, what do you know,” Sheriff Hollister said. “But I wonder why my deputy didn't find any links to that family tie of Joe's when he was going through high school yearbooks.”

“From what Dr. Martinez said, Joe must have changed his name to Wilcox after he left town.”

“Is that right? Hold on a sec.” The sheriff's voice drifted when his mouth no longer spoke directly into the receiver. “Taylor, bring me those Brighton Valley High yearbooks you were looking through.” After an unmistakable rustle of pages, the sheriff continued, “Yep, I found him. Joseph Martinez. He's a sophomore here, just a kid, but I'm sure that's him.”

“Joe came to town to deliver Dave's letter,” Chloe said. “But maybe he planned to get reacquainted with his brother while he was here.”

“That would be my guess. He rented that car for two weeks, so that would certainly give him time for a visit.”

She sure hoped that was the case. From what she'd gathered, Joe and Rick had been estranged after a falling-out—a bad one. Otherwise, Joe wouldn't have left town, changed his name and not contacted Rick for ten years.

The fact that he might be the kind of man to hold a grudge was a real possibility. And if so, that wasn't an admirable trait. Had she jumped into a sexual relationship too quickly? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

But last night had been so very different from her only other experience. It had not only been amazing, but it had been special. And, at least on her part, it had been a decision of the heart.

“By the way,” Sheriff Hollister said, “I was going to call him and let him know that we received an anonymous tip. One of the customers at the Stagecoach Inn drives a vehicle that matches the description of the one that hit him. We're still investigating, so we haven't made an arrest, but with that information, coupled with Joe's apparent connection to Brighton Valley, I seriously doubt that he was a targeted victim. So he doesn't need to keep hiding out on the ranch anymore.”

“It's okay for him to go into town?”

“I'm sure it's fine.”

“He'll be glad to hear that.” And while Chloe took it as good news, too, she couldn't say that she was especially happy that Joe was free to leave. Sure, she was relieved to know that no one was out to get him. And it warmed her heart to know that he had at least one family member who obviously loved him—and a local, upstanding citizen at that. But still, at the same time, she found it unsettling.

She'd known there would come a time when he would go back to his old life, but what about the new one he'd just begun to create with her?

“If anything comes up,” Sheriff Hollister said, “or if we make an arrest, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks. Joe will appreciate that.”

Chloe had no more than ended the call when the subject of her thoughts walked into the kitchen and provided her with a brand-new dilemma.

Should she tell him that he was free to leave, that there was no need for him to stay cooped up on the Rocking C any longer? Or did she dare to keep the new information to herself so she could hold on to him a little longer?

Was there really even a choice?

“I came to get some water to take with me out to the pasture,” Joe said, as he hung his hat on the peg near the mudroom door.

She watched him proceed to the cupboard for an insulated jug. Then he carried it to the kitchen sink and turned on the spigot.

While he filled his container with water, she said, “I just got off the phone with Sheriff Hollister.” She went on to relate everything the lawman had told her.

“So I'm free to venture off the ranch now and head into Brighton Valley? I can actually leave?”

“That's what he said. But if you're not feeling up to it—or if you like being here—you're welcome to stay as long as you want to.” She bit down on her lower lip, hoping he'd tell her that he didn't want to go. That he'd come to...care for her. And, that after last night, he...might even love...

That possibility was almost too wild to imagine, although she'd felt her feelings drifting in that direction.

“I'd like to take a look around town,” he said. “It might spark more memories. But if it's all the same to you, I'd feel more comfortable staying here on the ranch for a while.”

Chloe released the breath she'd been holding, but she reined in her enthusiasm. “I think that's a good idea.”

“So what do you have planned for this afternoon?” he asked.

“I'm going to drive out to the nursing home. I'd like to visit Sam Darnell and ask him a few questions about ranching. But I can wait until you're finished helping Tomas. That way, you can come with me—if you want to. And when we're done, we can drive down Main Street. Maybe we can even go to the ice-cream shop near town square.”

He seemed to give the idea some thought before shaking his head. “I'd better pass. Tomas has a lot of work to do, and I know he'd appreciate my help. Maybe we can go into town next weekend.”

Chloe wondered if Joe was trying to avoid being with her or if he was reluctant to bombard his brain with too many memories all at once. But she hated to confront the issue head-on right now. They'd probably both feel better about discussing it later this evening—before bed, when it would be impossible to avoid asking him what their next step should be.

Ten minutes later, after changing her clothes, she grabbed her purse, climbed into Ol' Greenie and drove to the Sheltering Arms.

She stopped in the lobby, where Christmas music played softly in the background—the toe-tapping tune of “Jingle Bell Rock.” She took a moment to appreciate the holiday decor and the faint scent of pine. Then she continued on her way to the elevator, humming along with the spunky beat and thinking that December was, indeed, a “swell time.”

When the doors opened, she rode up to the third floor, where Merrilee Turner was manning the nurse's desk again. She smiled when she spotted Chloe. “You're back. It's good to see you.”

“Thanks. I stopped by to visit Sam and Ethel.”

“Sam is in his room, watching TV. But Ethel is probably sleeping. At least, she was the last time I stopped by her room. She's picked up a cold and has a nasty cough.”

“That's too bad. Does Sarah know?”

“I mentioned it to her, and she said she'd put a call in to the doctor.”

“That's good.” Chloe just hoped Sarah hadn't forgotten. The woman was often scattered and forgetful—not a good trait for the third-floor nurse to have. But she had other habits and traits that Chloe found even more troublesome.

When Chloe had worked at the Stagecoach Inn, she'd often seen Sarah partying with her friends and throwing back quite a few beers, keeping late hours on nights when she was supposed to be at work early the next day. It wasn't like she would call in sick, but she'd often come in late and hungover. And she had a tendency to snap at the aides, as well as the patients.

But since Merrilee was the one who'd picked up on Ethel's illness, at least it had been noted. So Chloe wouldn't stress too much about it.

“If Ethel is resting,” Chloe said, “I'll let her have a few more minutes to sleep.”

“Good idea.”

Chloe's first stop was Sam Darnell's room, where the retired cowboy lay in bed, his head propped up with pillows, his lunch still on the portable bedside table.

“Hey,” she said, peering at the food he'd yet to touch. “What are you doing? Having a late meal?”

“Nope. I'm done. They just haven't come in to haul the dishes away.”

“But you've hardly eaten a thing.”

“I wasn't hungry. A fella doesn't burn up too many calories when he's laid up in bed.”

She glanced at an untouched slice of three-layer cake with gooey frosting. “I can't believe you didn't eat your dessert. You love chocolate. And you never sent sweets back to the kitchen when I worked here.”

“That's because you used to force me to eat, and I didn't have the heart or the energy to wrestle with you.”

Chloe laughed. “I did no such thing.”

They made small talk for a while, then Chloe told him about the offer she'd received for the hundred head of cattle.

Sam clucked his tongue. “Don't take it. That price is way too low. The guy might as well come onto the ranch in the middle of the night and rustle the entire herd.”

“I had a feeling he was trying to take advantage of me.”

“A lot of folks will do just that if you don't stand up for yourself.”

Sam had said as much to her before, so she gave him the same response. “You know that I don't really like confrontations.”

“But sometimes you gotta stand up for what's right.”

“I know. And I will.” After a beat, she added, “I don't suppose you'd come out to the Rocking C with me and negotiate that deal.”

Sam brightened. “I'd be happy to. But do you think you can spring me from this place?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “I'm not sure. Do you think you can eat your lunch?”

“You drive a hard bargain, missy. How 'bout I just eat that cake?”

Chloe laughed. “Are you sure you don't want to come out of retirement? The Rocking C could sure use your help. And I could, too.”

Sam let out a harrumph, but his tired eyes sparked and glistened in a way she hadn't seen since his wife passed away.

“You don't want me,” he said. “I'll be eighty-two on my next birthday. You'd be better off with a younger man.”

“I already have one. But Tomas told me himself that he's not foreman material, and while I like him a lot, I'd have to agree. Besides, I need someone who's savvy about things like this, someone I can trust.”

He seemed to consider her suggestion. “I couldn't give you a full day's work anymore, but I wouldn't mind coming out to the ranch and having a little look-see. And I'd actually like to talk to that cattle buyer. I'd let him know that he ain't messing with a fool greenhorn.”

Chloe smiled. “I'd like that, Sam. Let me see what I can do about getting you out of here in the next day or so.”

“Call my nephew. He'll give the okay. He's also a fancy city lawyer who likes to throw his weight around.”

“I'll do that.” Chloe watched Sam dig into the cake. And when he'd swallowed the last bite, he chugged down his milk.

Maybe all he needed was to feel useful again. She'd have to keep that in mind.

After saying goodbye and promising to come back, she headed down the hall to check on Ethel, only to find the frail, silver-haired lady dozing, the blankets pulled up to her chest.

Her arms were uncovered, her hands at her side. She wore a long sleeve flannel gown, but her wrists were in plain sight—and completely bare.

Apparently her allergy alert bracelet, which was supposed to be on order, hadn't come in yet.

Not wanting to disturb her dear friend, especially if she was sick and needed her rest, Chloe remained in the doorway a minute longer. Then she turned away and left the room.

As she walked to the elevator, she spotted Sarah Poston at the nurse's desk, standing over Merrilee and complaining about something.

“I take it that Ethel's allergy alert bracelet hasn't come in,” Chloe said.

Sarah crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. “It should be here any day. Besides, like I told you, her allergy is noted in her chart.”

If Chloe still worked here, she'd peek at Ethel's chart herself. But she'd been let go, terminated unfairly for speaking her mind about Sarah's disregard for protocol and her attitude toward certain patients.

Too bad Ethel didn't have a family to insist that she get the best quality care possible. For a couple of beats, Chloe considered her options at this point.

One came to the forefront.
Sometimes you gotta stand up for what's right
.

Yes, but how far did she want to go in challenging Sarah? Did she want to take it up with the administrator—again?

She really didn't have any solid evidence against the woman. Was she prepared for the fallout if her accusation didn't prove true?

Chloe hated confrontations, especially those she didn't think she could win. Besides, there was another confrontation awaiting her at home—one she was dreading, but one that had to be faced.

Because she and Joe needed to talk about the sexual turn their relationship had taken last night.

Chapter Eleven

T
hroughout the day, while working with Tomas, Joe's memories continued to return sporadically and in no particular order.

Sometimes he'd get a vision, a brief glimpse into the past. At other times a feeling would wash over him—a righteous anger or just plain sadness—which only frustrated him more.

At first, he'd assumed that he'd been angered or hurt by something his brother had done. And that's why he'd left town and never looked back. What else would have compelled him to change his name and lose contact with his family?

Yet each time he'd looked at Rick yesterday, he'd sensed a strong brotherly bond. And while he was more than okay with that, he couldn't just accept everything at face value.

Even more troubling was the fact that, in spite of his life slowly coming back to him, he still didn't have a handle on his true identity, either, and that left him more unsettled than ever.

For that reason, after dinner, he thanked Chloe for the meal and turned in early, giving himself a chance to sort through the mixed-up feelings alone.

She was so understanding about it, too. Which confused him all the more. Most women would want to know why the man they'd spent the previous night with all of a sudden wanted to sleep alone. But not Nurse Chloe.

He rose early the next morning, when he was sure she'd still be asleep. Then he went outside to check on Lola and her foal. There'd been plenty of chores to do, so he kept himself busy until Rick arrived.

Joe greeted his brother in the yard, then walked with him to the barn, where Rick examined Lola and the foal.

“They both look good,” Rick said.

Joe thought so, too. “I checked on them earlier this morning. Lola sure seems to be a good mother.”

Rick glanced at his boots, then back to Joe. “You and I weren't so lucky.”

“Somehow, that doesn't surprise me.”

“Do you remember any of it? That apartment complex where we lived? The fighting? Dad running off with that stripper? He'd said she was a professional dancer, but I didn't buy it. And neither did Mom.”

“I have a vague recollection, but nothing solid.”

“What about moving in with our aunt and uncle after Mom died and Dad took off? Do you remember that?”

“Last night, when I undressed for bed, I noticed that scar on my arm. You'd told me what happened, but I was able to remember it—the yelling and screaming. The huge sense of relief I felt when the police arrived before our uncle beat the crap out of her. The feeling that it hadn't been the first nor the last time something like that had happened.”

“Things were pretty bad at times. I don't blame you for wanting to put it all behind you. I might have run off, too, but Mallory had been sent to Boston to finish out her pregnancy and have our baby. And I'd wanted to wait for her to come back. Then I met up with Hank Lazarro, who helped me turn my life around.”

Joe wondered if he'd found a mentor of his own along the way. Had Conway, the retired marine, stepped in and befriended him? Had Joe gone on to find new friends and a family in the corps? The answers to his questions seemed to be yes.

“Hey,” Rick said, placing a hand on Joe's shoulder. “Why don't you ride into town with me? I've been craving Caroline's hotcakes all week. And since I left home early this morning, I didn't get a chance to have breakfast. We can talk in my truck and at the diner. Maybe that will jostle your memory.”

Joe had no idea who Caroline was or what diner his brother was talking about, but he'd slipped out of the house without eating, too. “That sounds good to me.”

Twenty minutes later, they entered the small town eatery, where a middle-age waitress, a woman Rick addressed as Margie, greeted them with a smile. “Good mornin', Doc Martinez. Who have you got here? Don't tell me this is Joey, all grown up.”

“Yep. It sure is.”

“Where've you been, son? We haven't seen you in...well, it's been ages.”

“He joined the Marines after he left town,” Rick said. “And when I went off to college, we lost touch for a while.”

Apparently, Rick hadn't told anyone Joe had run off.

“Isn't that nice? Y'all found each other. And just in time for Christmas.” Margie grabbed a couple of menus and led them back to a corner booth, all the while chattering about how family should be together during the holidays.

When she offered them menus, Rick said, “I don't need one. I'll have the rancher's breakfast—eggs over easy, bacon and a stack of Caroline's hotcakes.”

“I'll have the same thing,” Joe said, “only with scrambled eggs and the country sausage.”

“Coffee?” Margie asked, as she made a note of their orders on a small pad.

“You bet,” Rick said. “Thanks.”

When Margie walked away, leaving the brothers alone, Rick said, “Neither one of us had the kind of past I liked to talk about, so very few people around here know anything about where you went or why.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out some snapshots, one black-and-white, the others in color. “I brought some family pictures for you to see. I thought it might help.”

When he handed them over, Joe looked at each one, then focused on the old Polaroid of a couple in their late twenties to early thirties.

“That's one of the only shots I have of our mom and dad,” Rick said. “You can see that she's blonde. We obviously get one of our genes for blue eyes from the Norwegian side of the family.”

Joe wished he could say that he remembered their parents, but he didn't. “How old were we when mom died?”

“You were six. I was eight.”

At that age, Joe doubted that he'd have too many memories of them anyway. He flipped through the pictures and found one of a dark-haired couple in their mid-forties. He flashed it at Rick. “Is this Ramon and Rosa?”

“Yeah. Do you remember them?”

“Vaguely, but more than I remember our parents. I keep getting flashes of memory—bits and pieces I'm trying to put together. So keep talking. I think it's working.”

“Tío Ramon was Dad's brother. He liked to stop by La Cantina, a little dive in Wexler, every night after work. He was a mean drunk and had some anger issues, especially when he was three sheets to the wind. I'm sure that had a lot to do with him not keeping a job. But for some reason, he always seemed to find a new one.”

“You mentioned the abuse, the domestic violence. It must have been pretty bad.”

“It was. Ramon and Rosa loved each other, but they fought something awful, especially when they'd both been drinking.”

Margie stopped by with the carafe of coffee and filled both cups. Then she left a creamer and sugar.

Rick thanked her, and when she walked away, he continued. “We'd tried to talk Rosa into leaving him before it was too late, but she didn't listen. And one night, he nearly killed her. After Ramon went to prison and Rosa recovered from that last beating, she joined AA and turned her life around. She and I reestablished a relationship, although we weren't especially close at first. I've since reconciled with Tío Ramon, too. But that's been fairly recent. I wanted to be sure that he was serious about his sobriety. And I believe he is. He's due to get his two-year token next spring.”

Joe lifted his mug and took a sip. “I'd think he could use some anger management classes.”

“That was mandated by the court. He took them while he was in prison, but he took a refresher course after his release. He and Tía Rosa have reconciled and are attending church regularly. You'd hardly know them.”

Joe hardly knew them as it was. And something told him he ought to be grateful that he'd forgotten those early years.

Rick took a sip of coffee. “Because Tío kept losing his job, it seemed as though we had to move each time he found a new one. We lived in several different apartments in Houston, a mobile home and a duplex in Wexler, and then a townhome in Brighton Valley. After I met Mallory in my junior year, I spent more and more time away from home. And that left you to deal with all the family dysfunction on your own. I think you felt abandoned, and I can see why you would. I'd like to say that I wasn't much more than a kid at that time, but I won't make excuses. I was all you really had, and I let you down.”

Joe forgave him. At least, the man he'd become after the accident did. And maybe the old Joe did, too. After a ten-year separation, a tour of duty in a war zone, and an accident that damn near killed him and left him with amnesia...well, he was glad to have someone and something to hang on to. And that someone was sitting across the table from him, looking at him with eyes laden with emotion.

“I love you,” Rick said. “And I missed you something awful. Now that we've both grown up and moved on, I'd like to establish a better relationship.”

“I'd like that,” Joe said. “I'd like it a lot.”

Margie returned to the table and placed their meals in front of them. Just a whiff of the sausage triggered another memory. Joe paused, allowing it to unfold.

Seated at the kitchen table, Joe watched Tía frying breakfast meat, her bruised eyes nearly swollen shut, her bottom lip split. The words Joe said to her that morning.
You gotta leave him, Tía!

I know,
mijo
. But deep inside, your
tío
is a good man. And I love him.

But next time, he could kill you. And me...

The memory faded. And while it really wasn't a whole lot for Joe to go on, it validated the things Rick had told him.

Yet that simple vision and the feelings it triggered stirred up even more bits and pieces, allowing him to cobble some of them together.

“You're right,” Joe said. “I felt abandoned and left alone to weather the storms at home. I remember trying to talk some sense into Tía Rosa. I'd beg her to leave him, but she wouldn't listen. It used to make me so angry because it wasn't just her life she was ruining, it was mine. I'm not sure that she even cared that each time I stepped in to protect her, I'd get beat on myself.”

“I should have been there to protect you.”

Joe shrugged a single shoulder. “Maybe, but I wasn't looking for protection as much as a backup. If you'd have been home one of those nights, we could have stopped him and knocked some sense into him.”

“You're probably right. But in retrospect, that might have landed you and me in juvenile hall—or worse.”

Joe reached for his fork, only to have another memory kick in, one that he'd never forget again. And along with it, more emotions: anger, frustration, grief.

“What's the matter?” Rick asked. “Did you remember something else?”

“Yeah. Going home after what must have been their last fight. Red lights were flashing all around the neighborhood. The sheriff was there. Not Hollister, but an older man—heavyset, graying hair. He had
Tío
cuffed and locked in the back of the squad car.
Tía
was already in an ambulance, and they wouldn't let me see her.”

“She nearly died that night. She spent two weeks in ICU and nearly six months in rehab.”

“I remember thinking that it was all my fault,” Joe said.

“There's no way. You weren't even there when it happened.
Tío
was a brute when he drank.”

“Yeah, but if I'd been home, I might have stopped it.”

Rick reached across the table and placed his hand over Joe's. “You were only fifteen. And if you
had
been there, you would have tried to stop it. But then you might have been the one hauled off in the ambulance or the squad car.”

“Maybe so.”

Joe didn't bring it up because he didn't think it was necessary, but he also remembered that he and his brother had both been sent to different foster homes that night, separating them when Joe had needed him most.

“I can't fix what happened in the past,” Rick said. “But I want you to know that I'm sorry for whatever I might have done to you—or whatever I failed to do for you. You're my brother, and I don't want you to leave town without knowing how I feel.”

“Speaking of leaving Brighton Valley,” Joe said, “do you have any idea why I might have changed my name after I left?”

“I can't be sure, but I think it was because you wanted to put our lousy past behind you. Ramon and Rosa made newspaper headlines for a while, and the whole mess was pretty embarrassing. I found it hard to deal with and didn't speak to either of them for years. But Ramon learned a hard lesson while he was incarcerated. You might find this hard to believe—I know I did—but now that he's quit drinking and gone through some intensive counseling, he's like a new person.”

Joe wished he had something to say to that, some feelings to go along with it, but he dug into his breakfast and let his scattered thoughts and memories simmer.

By the time they'd finished eating, a lot of things had begun to come together for him.

The foster parents Joe had to live with weren't too bad, but Darrell, one of the other kids, used to bully the smaller boys. And since Joe had seen more than his share of abuse—and hated it—they butted heads more often than not.

One day, when Darrell began picking on one of the band geeks in the school cafeteria, Joe confronted him. A fight broke out, and even though Joe's reason for getting involved was noble, the principal suspended them both.

Rick hadn't been around that day, which led Joe to think he'd probably ditched school to spend time with his friends. And more than ever, Joe began to feel helpless and alone—with no one to care about him.

He had, however, earned the undying support of the band geek he'd stepped in to help—Dave Cummings.

Pieces of his ranch memories began to come together, and Joe soon realized when he'd been on the Rocking C before.

On several occasions, he'd run away from home and had ended up on the Cummings ranch. Just being around Dave and his parents had given him a glimpse of what a real family was supposed to be like, and he'd found himself drawn there.