To Have and To Hold (3 page)

Chapter Three

Mary stared at the kitchen, thinking it should be familiar, but it wasn’t. She felt like she was in

someone else’s house, looking at their things. When she turned her gaze to the man and two

children staring at her expectantly, she wasn’t sure what to tel them. Obviously, she was the

one who made the meals, but she didn’t remember what those meals were or how she made

them.

The man who cal ed himself Dave stopped the girl named Rachel before she could climb on top

of the worktable. “Do you feel up to cooking?” he asked.

“Wel …” Pushing aside her unease by the way they continued to stare at her, she shrugged.

“What do I make?”

“Brown sugar candy and apple pie!” the boy—Isaac—said, his eyes glowing with excitement.

Dave patted him on the shoulder. “You do make the best apple pie around, but no one expects

you to go through al that trouble. You have recipes over here.”

She fol owed him to one of the shelves where a tin can sat next to the window. After he took it

down, he opened the lid and handed it to her. Accepting it, she pul ed out the blank cards

where instructions were written on how to make each meal. With an uncertain breath, she

scanned the shelves and was glad to see the containers were labeled. Reading through the

cards, she decided to try one of the meals that required only a few ingredients and didn’t look

complicated.

“Alright. I’l try to make something.” She placed two cards on the worktable and put the rest

into the can.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. “Good because al I know how to make is jerky or fruit.”

She frowned. “Fruit? You mean you make something from the fruit?”

“No. I usual y get something from off one of the trees.”

For some reason, the imagery struck her as funny, so she laughed. “You grab fruit off the tree

and hand it to the kids to eat?”

The corners of his lips turned up and there was a sparkle in his eye. “No, but I can do it. I’m

just saying what I can do as far as cooking goes.”

“And the jerky?”

“Oh, I just buy that from the mercantile. I rarely eat it since we got married, but when you were

expecting Isaac and Rachel, you couldn’t get enough of it.”

“Is it that good?”

“I don’t think so, and usual y you don’t either.”

“That’s strange that I’d want to eat something al the time when I’m expecting a child.”

He shrugged but grinned. “I thought so, too, but you assured me you needed it. I’m not saying

it was a life or death situation, but you’d get cranky if there wasn’t any in the house.”

“That’s sil y that I’d be that way because it wasn’t here to eat. Why didn’t I make something

else?”

“I asked you the same thing, but you said there was something in the jerky you needed. So, I’d

go into town and bring back a whole box of it.”

“A whole box?”

“Yes, and it would be gone in two weeks.”

She couldn’t imagine eating that much but decided she’d have to take his word for it since she

couldn’t recal being pregnant, let alone what jerky tasted like.

“I should get some jerky from the cel ar. Maybe if you eat it, you’l remember something,” he

said.

Maybe. She’d like to remember something, even if it was minor. Deciding it was worth a try,

she nodded. “I’l eat some.”

Isaac came over to her and placed his hands over his stomach. “I’m hungry, Ma.”

Her stomach growled, and she smiled. “I’l get started.” Glancing at the two cards, she added,

“I hope I can do it.”

Dave kissed her cheek. “No one cooks better than you.”

“Real y?” she asked, her skin tingling from where his lips had been.

“Real y. You’re the best there is.” He patted the smal of her back and scanned the room.

“Isaac, where’s your sister?”

He shrugged. “I think she’s in the parlor.”

“I better find her,” Dave told Mary. “Isaac, stay here and help your mother if she can’t find

something.”

“Is this important?” Isaac asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Very.”

At his father’s reply, Isaac straightened up, his grin widening. “I’l do a good job, Pa!”

Dave hurried out of the room, and Mary turned her gaze to her son. Unsure of what to say, she

offered a shy smile and then read from her card. “Let’s see. I think I know where everything is

except for the lard. Do you know where that is?”

“Sure.” He lifted his arms, and it took her a moment to understand he wanted her to pick him

up. When she did, he pointed to the shelf to her right. “Over there.” Stil holding him, she

stepped to the shelf. “It’s in the white container.”

Scanning the containers on the shelf, she realized it was the only white container and wondered

why he didn’t just come out and say that instead of making her pick him up. Amused, she

thanked him and set him down. “You’re a big help.”

Looking proud, he said, “I can find anything in here, especial y cookies.”

Why did it not surprise her that he’d be aware of where the cookies were? “Should I add a

couple of cookies for dessert tonight?”

“That’s a great idea, Ma!”

“Which container do I keep cookies in?”

He lifted his arms again, so she picked him up. “That one!”

She put him back down so she could get the stepstool from the corner and set it next to the

shelves.

“Be careful, Ma. Don’t fal again.”

The warning alarmed her. “Did I ever fal while on the stool?”

“No. You fel on the porch.”

With a slow nod, she took care as she grabbed the containers she needed and put them down

on the worktable, one at a time. When she was done, she put the stool back and released her

breath. Good. She hadn’t fal en again.

Isaac watched her as she set out the pots she needed and placed them on the cook stove.

Biting her lower lip, she asked, “How do you help me in here?”

“I can stir. You say I do real wel at that.”

As she grabbed the bowls and spoons she needed, she couldn’t help but notice how important

it was to him that he help her. He’d been proud to assist her with changing Rachel’s diaper. It

was cute how much he wanted to do. “Is there anything else you help me with?”

“Sometimes I pour things.”

“Things?”

He shrugged. “Flour, sugar, water.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And sometimes you have me play with Rachel.” He grimaced. “But I don’t like that because

she’s a baby.”

She paused as she was removing lids from the containers and considered his point. “I suppose

it’s not fun for a big kid to play with a little one.”

“You got that right.”

“But I bet it real y helps me.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he peered up at her.

While she resumed the task of removing the lids, she said, “Rachel had a hard time staying stil

at the doctor’s. And then she ran out of here to go to the parlor. Your father had to go find

her.”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice uncertain about where she was going with this.

“It makes sense that she doesn’t want to sit stil while I cook. So, maybe I need you to keep

her out of trouble.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

Smiling, she grabbed her measuring cup and looked at him. “Sometimes it’s the things that

don’t seem to make a difference that are the biggest ways we can help someone else.” She

brought the stepstool over to the worktable and held out the cup to him. “Do you want to get a

cup of flour for me?”

With an enthusiastic nod, he climbed up on it and took the cup from her. Parts of what had

been her life seemed to be coming natural y to her. She didn’t remember how she used to

make meals, but it felt as if the knowledge on combining ingredients and cooking the food was

embedded somewhere in her mind. That meant the memories had to be somewhere. The

problem was, how was she going to get to them?

While she and Isaac cooked the supper, she realized she was enjoying it. “You know, this is

turning out to be a lot of fun,” she said as she pul ed the biscuits out of the oven.

“You love to cook, Ma. You say it’s one of your favorite things to do.”

Hearing that surprised her, but it assured her that things she enjoyed before she lost her

memory would be things she’d continue to enjoy and she took comfort in that. Just as she was

about to ask him what else she enjoyed, Rachel ran into the kitchen with a frog which slipped

out of her hands and jumped over to the cook stove.

“Get it out of here,” Mary told her son while she shooed it away so it wouldn’t get near the

food.

“Sure thing, Ma!” Isaac hurried after it.

Dave hurried into the kitchen and picked Rachel up just as Isaac caught the frog before it could

jump up on the cook stove. “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t see her leave the parlor.”

While Isaac took the frog out of the house, she pressed her hand to her chest and laughed.

“Actual y, it was funny. Does that happen often?”

“No,” Dave replied. “We don’t let Isaac bring animals into the house. I only al owed it this once

because I wanted the children to stay busy.”

She was relieved. The idea of frogs hopping around her kitchen on a regular basis wouldn’t be

as funny as it was for something that just happened once. “Wel , supper is almost ready. I

was about to set the table.”

“Then I’l get Rachel in a highchair and help you set the table.”

She was about to ask him if he usual y helped her with setting the table, but he was already out

of the kitchen. Curious, she fol owed him and saw that he meant they would eat in the dining

room. She didn’t even know they had a dining room. Wel , she must’ve known, except she

forgot. And now she knew again. Sighing, she reminded herself to be patient. The doctor said

it would take time before she got her memories back.

On her way back to the kitchen, Isaac returned, and before he could grab the utensils, she

asked, “Did you wash your hands?”

Pausing, he blinked in surprise. “You remember saying that?”

“No. It’s just disgusting to touch forks and spoons if you haven’t washed your hands, especial y

since you just touched a frog.”

“Did Rachel wash her hands?”

Realizing Rachel hadn’t, Mary retrieved a clean cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water on

the worktable. After she got it wet, she rubbed soap on it and said, “Yes, Rachel washed her

hands. Now, you go and wash yours, too.”

“They’l get dirty when I eat anyway,” he muttered as he headed back out of the house.

Peering out the window, Mary saw her son go to the wel and nodded. Good. He real y was

going to wash his hands. She went to the dining room as Dave headed back to the kitchen.

She held her hand out to Rachel who put her hand in hers, and then she washed Rachel’s

hands.

“Mama,” Rachel said, her wide eyes focused on Mary.

Mary stopped wiping the cloth over her daughter’s hands and made eye contact with her.

“Mama clean,” she added, her lips turning up into a smile.

Her eyes fil ed with tears because she wished she could remember her children. Mary brushed

the girl’s wiry dark blond curls away from her face. “You’re such a pretty girl.”

And Rachel was. Bright blue-green eyes, dark blonde hair, a smile that lit up her entire face.

Now that she thought about it, both children looked like Dave. They were very attractive. Dave

came into the room with a stack of plates and utensils. For al she knew, he was the best

looking man she’d ever seen. Isaac came in next with cloth napkins and two cups. Her gaze

shifted back to Dave and then Rachel.

Al of them would never have trouble with people in the same way that someone who wasn’t so

attractive would. Wondering where that thought came from, she frowned and tried to retrieve

something that seemed to be right at the edge of her awareness.

“Is something wrong?”

Shifting her gaze to Dave who’d set down the last plate, she shook her head. “No. I…” She

looked at Rachel and the cloth in her hands. “I was washing Rachel’s hands. She touched the

frog, so I thought they needed to be cleaned.”

“I washed mine,” Isaac pointed out, showing them to his parents.

“Good.” Dave ruffled his hair. “Now help me get the rest of the dishes.”

While the two returned to the kitchen, she forced her attention back to the task at hand, figuring

that whatever memory had been trying to emerge wasn’t important.

Chapter Four

Mary pul ed the nightshirt over her head, exhausted from the day’s activities. She suspected

she kept busy every day, but it wasn’t every day she lost her memory. Examining her reflection