Leave it for the Rain: A Love She Couldn't Remember—A Woman He Couldn't Forget (Grayson Brothers Book 6) (28 page)

Scout went to work with Adam each day. For three weeks, the dog prowled the vast shipyard making friends with the crew, begging scraps from their lunch tins, and sleeping the day away while Adam worked himself to exhaustion. Any minute that his mind wasn’t occupied with work, thoughts of Rebecca took up residence.

Thinking of her was excruciating.

Leo had told Adam to accept the fact that he would be worthless for a long time, and it wasn’t far from the truth. Adam could work his way through any problem or challenge at the sawmill, or in the shipyard, but the minute his thoughts turned to Rebecca he was lost in a world of heartache.

He wondered if she was healthy and happy, as he hoped she was, but he didn’t write to ask. Even one word to her would open a floodgate of emotion that would drown both of them. He couldn’t do that to her again. It was enough that he’d pushed her away with his incessant talk of the past. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to lose his best friend Rebecca Grayson who knew him better than he knew himself. He wanted the girl who knew about his past and loved him anyway.

Hard work was the only way for him to escape her, and so he worked until dark. Then he would bathe the sweat from his aching body and spend a couple of hours at The Crowe’s Nest listening to his friends’ conversations. He would stop at two mugs and head home to Scout. Ever faithful, the dog would be curled up on his bunk, alone or with Blue, awaiting his return. Every night Adam fought for his share of the mattress—and for sleep. Every morning he woke choking on the grief lodged like a bone in his throat.

He and Scout haunted the river at night, walking the path he’d worn between the bunkhouse and the little home Rebecca had occupied while she stayed at Crane Landing. The house was dark now, the back porch empty. She wasn’t there to greet him with her sweet white smile and starlit eyes. There was only the howl of a timber wolf giving voice to the aching loneliness Adam felt.

Scout sidled closer to Adam’s leg, too old to fight now.

“It’s okay, buddy. He’s looking for a mate, not a fight.” He bent down to give Scout some reassurance with a scratch behind the ears, and a light from the other side of the river caught his attention. “Who else but Dawson Crane would be awake at two o’clock in the morning?” he asked himself.

Scout nudged his leg.

“Yeah, I know. You and me.” After a few seconds of peering at the distant light, Adam ruffled the fur on Scout’s back. “Let’s make sure Dawson is all right.”

They backtracked to the bridge where Adam and Rebecca had lingered one evening talking about what it might be like to live in Crane Landing. Dreamy-eyed, Rebecca had plucked bright yellow petals from one of the wildflowers he’d picked for her and dropped them from the bridge where he had kissed her and told her he loved her. She made a wish and watched the colorful petals drift away. What she’d wished for he never knew.

“Come on, boy,” he said, picking up his pace to put the bridge and painful memories behind him. At one time he’d been overwhelmed with sympathy and heartache for Rebecca because she had lost her memories, but now he wondered if she wasn’t the more fortunate of them to not be tormented by their past as he was.

As he neared the small house on the hill he spied Dawson sitting on the porch smoking a cheroot. Lazy swirls of smoke drifted in the night air. The field around the house was alive with crickets and the sound of peepers coming from the river just two hundred feet away.

“Wondered when you were going to stop by,” Dawson said, his graveled voice sounding loud in the night.

Scout yelped a greeting, and Adam quickly shushed him.

“Saw your light on,” Adam said. “Thought I’d make sure you were all right.”

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I fell on my head twenty years ago. Haven’t found a suitable answer yet, least wise one I can agree with.”

The man’s peculiar ways made Adam smile. Dawson had always been an eccentric and interesting man. He had the Crane name and the Crane fortune and he didn’t care a whit about either. He cared about the animals that found sanctuary on his property. He cared about the stars in the night sky and what might be up there with them. From the dimmest star above to the smallest creature on earth, Dawson Crane cared enough to document his interests in pen and ink or in living color on canvas.

“Mind if Scout and I rest our sorry selves on your porch for a spell?” Adam asked.

Dawson tapped his cheroot against the porch railing to knock off the ashes. “Company would be nice. Haven’t had any callers this time of night since your gal was staying in the house across the river.”

Stunned, Adam stared at Dawson, wondering if the man was imagining things.

“She stopped by a couple of times. Once to say hello. Once to say goodbye.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?” Adam asked, giving Dawson a gentle reminder that it was the middle of the night when most people were in bed sound asleep.

“As I recall it was just before three o’clock in the morning when she walked up the hill to say hello and have a neighborly chat. Came by half past midnight to say goodbye.”

“Dawson, are you sure about this? I suspect Rebecca would have been asleep like everyone else during the night.” But Adam knew about Rebecca’s restless wandering at night. He just assumed she had done her wandering in her house or on her porch.

Dawson took a long drag on the cheroot and released the smoke in one big puff. “We’re not the only ones who wander in the night, Adam. Your gal had a head full of worry when she sat on this porch the night before she left for Fredonia.”

Flabbergasted, Adam sat mute. Rebecca came here? To talk with Dawson? In the middle of the night?

“About what?” he finally asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Dawson shrugged. “Same worry that’s plagued me for twenty years—
am I crazy
?”

“What?” Adam stared at the man. People had found Dawson eccentric and even questioned his tales at times, but never in Adam’s presence had anyone questioned Dawson’s sanity. For Dawson to question his own mental stability was unsettling and... sad. To think Rebecca was having those same concerns tore Adam’s heart out.

He had thought her lost memories and his inability to let them go at the root of her unrest. He hadn’t realized she had deeper concerns. It simply hadn’t occurred to him that her confusion was causing her to question her mental stability.

Was she still struggling with this, or had he alone been the cause of her confusion? He needed to know. He wanted to board the morning train for Fredonia and assure Rebecca in person that she was whole and beautiful and perfectly sane. But seeing him again might make matters worse. Seeing her again would torture him. Not knowing would kill him.

“How’s your grandmother getting along?” Dawson asked, interrupting the battle Adam was waging in his mind. “She’s a fine lady. Made me feel like a young man again. I might like to see her again one day.”

“Then maybe you should take a trip to Fredonia.” And maybe he should, too, Adam, thought. But then he remembered why he left, to release Rebecca from the pressure of his consuming and perhaps overly demanding love, and he knew he couldn’t go back. But he
could
call Radford at the mill.

“Dawson, I have to go. I need to be at the C&G office early tomorrow. I’ll tell my grandmother you asked about her.”

Dawson glanced at Adam. “I understand. Morning’s going to come early for you.”

“Doesn’t usually come early enough,” Adam replied honestly. Sleep brought dreams, and dreams brought Rebecca in all her ages and stages. From skinned knees to hair ribbons and marriage plans, Rebecca danced through his dreams, turning him round, wringing him out, shaking him awake with her name on his lips and his heart in shreds.

Dressed in her night clothes, Rebecca sat alone in her room looking in Princess Cecily’s hand mirror while she brushed her hair. She preferred the soft light of her oil lamp at night and its calming flicker that reflected in the mirror. Holding the heirloom made her feel closer to Adam, even though it was his final parting gift. Like Princess Cecily who must have felt utterly lost in a new world so unlike her homeland, Rebecca felt adrift.

“How did you find your way, Princess?” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the ribbon of beautiful gemstones, wishing she could talk with the courageous princess. For a long while she gazed at the mirror without seeing, letting her thoughts wander. Images of Adam filled her mind and reflected in the silvered pool of the mirror. He twirled her slowly in his manly arms, once... twice... their bodies flush, their hearts beating with love for each other... and around they turned again as if winding back a clock until she was gazing into the eyes of a skinny boy with a contagious laugh and feet that were two sizes too big for his growing body. Warmth and joy suffused her and she clung to his neck, dizzy from their playful spin and giddy with love.

As if watching from the top of their willow tree, she observed the young sweethearts absorbed in their moment of joy and love for one another. Days swirled by as they dashed along the rocky shore of the creek, splashing barefoot through the shallows, throwing stones, sitting on rocks with their bare feet in the water, talking and laughing and dreaming. Adam grew into his feet and Rebecca filled out her dresses and still they met and played beneath the willow. They danced in the moonlight beside the shimmering creek, gazing into each other’s eyes, their love too big to convey with words. Their spinning made Rebecca dizzy and she felt herself falling, hurtling toward the rock-strewn ground below.

With a gasp, Rebecca dropped the mirror to her lap and splayed her hands beside her on the bed, trying to maintain her balance while the spinning motion in her head calmed and finally... blessedly stopped.

“Oh, my...” she whispered, gripping her head, feeling woozy. Whatever happened was both frightening and exhilarating. She didn’t know if she had seen the images in the mirror or in her mind, if she was remembering or hallucinating, but it no longer mattered.

As her heartbeat slowed and her mind cleared, she sat up and returned the mirror to the velvet lined box.

Then she opened another box—the one her mother said Adam had made for her.

She turned on the lamp on her nightstand and snuffed the oil lantern. She needed enough light to read. Instead of prowling the house from dark until dawn, Rebecca read through the letters and notes Adam had written to her. Hour after hour she immersed herself in the sweet words of a boy enamored by a girl he couldn’t have, and of a young man setting off to become the sort of man worthy of her. In one letter he referred to her as “Birdie,” a nickname that made Rebecca laugh. It apparently didn’t stick, thank goodness, because the next letter began with his usual salutation of
My dearest Rebecca
. At twenty he’d become a man in full possession of himself, assured and confident and more deeply committed to his lifelong love—
her
. He wrote about the university and his ideas and the plans he had for them. His words were filled with longing and honest, undecorated confessions of love—for her. Everything was always for her.

She wept and she laughed throughout the night as she read through a decade of their loving each other. At dawn she heard her father and brother leave for the mill, and she continued to read. Adam’s letters helped her understand him and his desperate desire for her to remember their past that contained so many dreams and so much love. She wished she had read them sooner, but she had been a frightened, hurting mess before she went to see Doc Samuel, and she couldn’t have read anything at that time without making her head pound. She didn’t have the box of letters at Crane Landing—she had Adam. And she’d forgotten about the letters until now.

Now she understood Adam’s inability to let go of their past love, and with that understanding came a surge of regret and pain that cut through her.

She’d lost their love when she’d lost her memory—and she’d thrown it away when Adam had tried to give it back to her.

Trembling and hoping she wasn’t too late, she threw on her riding habit and slipped out of the house.

Seated on the strong back of her mare, she and Star rode as one being. They knew each other to the most minute movement and had been together for years. Of this Rebecca was certain. She didn’t have to
remember
it, she
knew
it. Just like she knew she loved Adam Grayson. She always had and she always would.

Star balked at the entrance of the mill and the noise in the yard, and Rebecca stopped there. She dismounted and left her skittish horse safely at the gate.

She strode across the mill feeling more desperate with each step. When she spied her father, she ran toward him waving her hand above her head to get his attention. The surprise in his eyes was immediately replaced with fierce concern. Rebecca didn’t stop. She needed her father—fathers fixed things. She ran straight into his arms and burst into tears. “Daddy, I need your help.”