Leave it for the Rain: A Love She Couldn't Remember—A Woman He Couldn't Forget (Grayson Brothers Book 6) (7 page)

o0o

Adam’s grandmother took the three youngest children home with her to spend the night. Will and Josh tended to chores in the livery while Adam talked with Radford.

They waited in the parlor while Evelyn freshened Rebecca’s bedding and gave her a sponge bath, neither of them having much to say.

Throughout the last decade, Adam had spent many hours in this parlor talking with Radford about the sawmill business. They had discussed Adam attending university and how he planned to build a house for Rebecca. They talked about helping neighbors and just about every subject one could think of. Their conversations had always come so easily. Now, they seemed to have nothing to say to one another, each of them lost in thought and emotionally exhausted.

Will came inside and joined them in the parlor. He told his father about a loose shoe on one of their horses and that he had gotten the last stall repaired. After getting a nod of thanks and little response from his father, and even less conversation from Adam, the boy gave up and headed outside to the porch.

The hours deepened into dawn. By turns, Radford and Adam drifted off until their chins hit their chests or their loud snoring jerked them awake. The silent house smelled of over-brewed coffee, but Adam got up and poured himself a cup. He took it to the porch where Will was asleep on the porch swing.

Adam sat in a wide chair at the opposite end of the porch and watched the sun rise. The pale light lit the apple orchard between Radford’s home and his mother’s house on the other side. Evelyn Tucker and her parents had been neighbors with the Graysons for several decades and had raised their children together. They must have faced hard times like this, times when they were scared and the future was uncertain. Maybe that’s why Grandma Grayson was able to keep everyone from falling apart. Maybe those other times had taught her how to handle the fear and uncertainty.

Maybe it was simply age that helped a person learn that skill. Doc Milton had that ability to take charge and tend to the necessary without the jangled nerves and emotional upheaval that Adam and the others were experiencing.

Or was it simply because they weren’t eaten up with guilt?

The dark coffee settled like acid in Adam’s empty stomach. He should have never let Rebecca come to the mill.

She came awake slowly, to the fragrant smell of coffee and an unbearable ache lodged deep in her head. Something cold touched her lips, and she searched with her mouth, welcoming the coldness that wet her tongue.

“I’m here, Rebecca...”

His calm voice and cool hand flowed over her like a deep, soothing river. She concentrated on the gentle stroke of his fingers, willing the claw around her head to unlock its painful talons.

“I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.”

She fought to open her eyes, to resist the shadows that flickered at the edge of awareness. Coolness washed over her face, and she licked the dew from her lips.

“Please... wake up while I’m with you,” he requested, a gentle urgency in his voice.

She basked in the comfort his hands offered, instinctively seeking his tender touch.

His voice drew her, compelled her to see the man stroking her cheek. She peered at him through slits, as though peeking between the cracks of an old horse stall.

His image burned into her mind like an etching on a daguerreotype plate. Sculpted cheekbones. Proud nose. A solid chin in need of a shave. Brown almond-shaped eyes that seemed to look into her soul.

She glanced beyond his shoulder to the fading light outside the curtained window and then returned to her surroundings. She lay in a bed in a pretty room with floral wallpaper and three tall doors that led to who knew where? To her right was a small vanity with a small mirror and a nightstand holding a pretty lamp. Beyond that stood an armoire and on the floor beside it sat a heavy wooden chest of some sort.

“Rebecca, please talk to me. I need to hear your voice.”

Rebecca?
The intensity in his eyes kept her silent.

She struggled to push herself upright, but a jagged bolt of pain cut through her head. She fell back on the pillow, panting, her skull feeling as if it was splitting into two halves.

“I’ll get the doctor,” he said.

She grasped his hand, but she couldn’t hold onto him as he stood. “Who you are?” she croaked, her voice strained and hoarse. She rolled her throbbing head, wondering at her jumbled words, her muddled thinking.

His eyebrows lifted as if she’d just surprised him. “Who am I?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Are you playing with me, Rebecca?”

She shook her head, but the movement sickened her and the edges of her vision grew black. Dizziness washed over her and her head lolled.

o0o

Somewhere a door closed and slow footsteps approached. She struggled to open her eyes, but her lids were weighted. Her fingers twitched and she tried to lift her arm, but it, too, felt leaden. The footsteps stopped beside her.

“My love, you have a lot of people waiting for you to awaken.”

The man's voice came to her like soft rain upon her face, cool... soothing... gentle. An image appeared in the mist. Brown, compassion-filled eyes beckoned her, compelled her to trust him.

The gentle touch of his palm on her forehead eased the tension in her shoulders. Coolness washed over her face, and she tasted water on her tongue. She sucked the wet cloth into her mouth, wanting more of the precious liquid.

“Just a little for now.” Cool water dribbled over her dry lips into her parched mouth. “Does that help?”

She tilted her face and welcomed the dribble of water that crossed her lips. Sighing, she lifted her lashes and looked into his dark, worried eyes.

“It's good to see your eyes open. You’ve been sleeping a very long time.”

She blinked, but his image remained blurry. Who was this man sitting on her bed, gazing at her, all rugged and handsome? And who was the woman standing behind him who seemed to be on the verge of tears?

He set the water glass and cloth aside and smiled down at her. “You think you might remember me now?”

She didn't dare answer.

His smile faded. “Rebecca, you’re scaring me to death. Please tell me you know who I am.”

She struggled to sit up, gasping in pain as her head throbbed and the muscles in her aching body protested. She gritted her teeth and forced herself up on her elbows.

He and the woman assisted her and then propped two fat pillows behind her shoulders. “Lean back and rest,” the woman said, her voice kind and comforting. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

In too much pain to argue, she watched the man as intensely as he was regarding her. “What happened to me?” she asked, her voice little more than a croak.

“You were unseated by your horse and cracked your head on an oak log.”

It felt as if her head had been split in half. She tried to remember, but everything was a jumble, and her mind was as empty of memory as her body was full of pain.

She couldn’t remember one single thing from before the man had awakened her. Not one thing. She lurched upright, trembling with weakness and fear as her thoughts ran straight into a black hole. She began to panic.

The room began to spin.

Sick to her stomach, she sagged forward against him. Questions rolled through her like the waves of nausea creating havoc in her stomach and her mind.

He held her gently as her head lolled against his chest. “I’ve got you, darling.”

As waves of dizziness washed over her, she clung to him, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. Sweat prickled her face and neck. Her head lolled forward and her stomach rolled. She gaged and raised shaking fingers to her mouth, sagging fully into his arms.

“Are you ill?” He reached out and lifted an empty wash basin from the nightstand.

She gritted her teeth against her rising nausea, but lost her battle.

Deftly, he lowered her to the mattress and held her hair as she retched bile into the hand basin.

“I'm sorry, love.”

Sweat burst from her pores and washed her with chills as dry heaves overtook her. Fire shot through her ribs each time her stomach contracted with long, agonizing shudders that stole her breath.

He stroked her shoulder and arm, whispering apologies each time she moaned from the excruciating pain that wracked her body. Even when she fought to keep the sound inside, he seemed to know, to touch her, to cup his palm over her tender shoulders. Tears streamed from her eyes and cannons seemed to explode in her head.

An eternity passed before the dry heaves subsided. Finally she wilted onto the mattress, wasted.

He wiped the perspiration and tears from her face with his bare palm.

She placed a trembling hand on her chest. “Who I am?” she asked, struggling with the slippery words.

His eyes darkened. “You don’t know?”

For several seconds she frantically tried to summon her name, but every query for an answer disappeared into the black void where her memories should be. Every piece of her life that came before she’d opened her eyes with this man at her side was gone... including her name.

She rolled her head from side to side as pain hammered her skull.

His face paled and a sick look filled his expression. “Oh, Rebecca...”

“You are who?” she asked, keeping her breath shallow to spare her aching head. She needed to know who he was, and more importantly who
she
was.

He sighed and moisture brimmed in his eyes. “You’re Rebecca Grayson, and I’m Adam—the man you’ve promised to marry.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think past the gut-punch of shock. She’d never seen him before in her life. Everything was sideways and mixed up in her head and she hurt so badly she wanted to weep from the pain.

A pretty woman entered the room dressed in a plain spring green, day dress. “The doctor will be right up.” She clasped Rebecca’s hands in her own, her eyes filled with tender concern. “You have given us a terrible scare, Rebecca.”

Rebecca... Her name was Rebecca
? The throbbing pain in her skull made it difficult to think, but apparently she belonged here with these kind people.

A very tall, very handsome man entered the room and stopped cold when her eyes met his. “Sprite...” He’d whispered the name as if he couldn’t get his breath. He leaned down and cupped her cheek in his large, warm palm. “You have scared twenty years off my life.”

Her gaze bounced between the three of them hovering over her. Confused, overwhelmed, and filled with pain, she shrank back into the damp bedding.

The man named Adam got to his feet and spoke to the tall man at her bedside. “You should know that Rebecca doesn’t remember me,” he said, as if someone had just died. “I don’t think she remembers any of us.”

The tall man’s jaw dropped.

The woman’s green eyes widened. “You know us, don’t you, sweetheart?” she asked.

The only thing she—Rebecca—knew was pain. Her head pounded and her words were so jumbled all she could manage to say was, “No.”

o0o

Adam stood on the porch, staring into the twilight with his thoughts whipped into chaos like debris in a whirlwind.

Rebecca didn’t know him.

She didn’t remember their love or the million small moments they had shared together.

There was no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him, no friendship, no playful flirting, no love. To her, Adam was a stranger. They had never met, never shared their dreams, or laughed together. All he’d seen in her eyes was pain.

“Am I interrupting?” her brother, Will, a dark-haired, brown-eyed younger version of Radford, asked as he sat on the porch railing across from Adam.

Shaking his head, Adam released a weary sigh.

“I know Doc Milton warned us that head injuries are tricky, but I never expected this.” Will shoved his fingers into his bark brown hair. “It just seems... impossible.”

Adam nodded. “I know.”

“I can’t forget my father’s expression when Rebecca said she didn’t know him. I stood in the doorway with Doc Milton feeling as if I’d been punched in the forehead. That look on my father’s face was... it was just...” Will shook his head as if to snap himself out of his stupor. “I’ll never forget it.”

Neither would Adam—because he felt that same terrifying despair that had been in Radford’s eyes.

“Doc Milton warned us to take this a day at a time,” Will said, “but it’s like being trapped in a nightmare. All I want is for it to end.”

It was worse than a nightmare because it was real. Adam’s mind flashed back to Rebecca’s accident, seeing her tumble backward, being too far away to save her, and he wanted to weep with regret. Instead, he met Will’s concern-filled eyes. “There is nothing easy about this, but we have to be strong and help Rebecca. She’s hurt and scared. Hopefully a couple days of healing and bed rest will put her mind right and ease her pain.”

“I hope so,” he said, “but the wait isn’t going to be easy for any of us, especially for my father.”

Adam nodded because there was nothing else to say.

The screen door swung open and Radford stepped onto the porch. He looked years older, and it wasn’t because of the bluish hue of twilight shadows darkening the porch. The man was sick with fear.

“She’s gone again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Doc says there’s no telling how long she’ll be in and out like this, or if she’ll ever get her memory back.” His eyes, raw with pain, drilled into Adam. “She doesn’t even know her own father.”

Despite the pain in Radford’s voice, Adam heard the accusation. This was Adam’s fault. He reminded himself that Radford was in pain, he was scared, and he was angry. Every one of those emotions was justified.

“I know, sir. She doesn’t know her future husband either.” Adam descended the steps, then stopped and turned back. “I’ll return in the morning.” His future wife was here, and he intended to be at her side. But as he headed across the yard, he wondered if Radford would welcome him back.

o0o

Adam found Faith asleep in one corner of the camel-back sofa in the parlor, her body curled in slumber. She’d tucked her hands beneath her right cheek and used the sofa’s scrolled arm as a pillow of sorts. That she’d been waiting for him was apparent by the smoldering fire in the fireplace and the pot of coffee he spied on the kitchen stove. He was touched, but not surprised by her concern for him. Faith had always been there for him, especially when she knew he was hurting.

He didn’t want to wake her, but it would be unkind to slip upstairs to bed and leave her sleeping uncomfortably on the sofa.

The smell of coffee, albeit long past fresh, was inviting, so he poured himself a cup of the steamy brew and went to sit in a wingback chair. Scout wandered into the parlor, blinking sleep from his old eyes as he climbed onto Adam’s lap.

“Hey, old friend,” Adam whispered, welcoming the hound. With one hand wrapped around the warm mug and the other stroking Scout’s fur, Adam sat quietly, taking a sip of coffee now and then as his mind and body unwound.

Faith’s soft voice cut into his thoughts. “Any change?” she asked, her sleepy voice hopeful.

He shook his head, noting her loose hair and dark eyes. “Not really. Rebecca woke again, but her words are still confused and... well, she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know any of us.”

Confusion darkened Faith’s brown eyes. “Are you saying she can’t remember names?”

“She can’t remember
me.
She looked at me as if I were a stranger.” Tears burned behind Adam’s weary eyes. He stared hard at the brown liquid in his cup, willing the stinging moisture away. He couldn’t fall apart. Giving into fear would not help Rebecca. “She doesn’t remember any of us,” he said, settling his aching body deep into the chair.