Chapter Two

      Emily reluctantly allowed Jesse to draw her toward the house. He’d asked if she’d done something wrong. The question had triggered a response in her brain—one that made her stomach clench. She swayed a little with dizziness, grateful that Jesse held her arm so she wouldn’t fall.

      She tried not to think of all the things she might be guilty of, but it made her head pound. “Jesse, wait.” She pulled him back.

      Jesse faced her, his expression so kind that she couldn’t swallow. “Everything is going to be okay.”

      “I don’t know that. Just as I don’t know who I am or what I’ve done. I don’t even know who Mikey is. My son? A friend’s son?” A word hovered in the back of her mind. A word that described Mikey. She almost captured it, but then it slipped away. The wind stung her eyes and made her shudder. Not knowing was the worst feeling in the world.

      “Emily, I know you’re frightened. Remember the verse you quoted? ‘What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.’ Do you believe it?”

      She didn’t have to think to nod a yes.

      “That says to me you are a child of God.”

      She nodded again. “I belong to Him. Have since I was a child.” How did she know that and yet couldn’t recall her name or her relationship to Mikey?

      “God will not abandon you now. Do you believe that?” His gaze held hers, full of assurance and faith.

      “I do.” She sucked in air until her lungs would hold no more. “I’m ready.” She gripped his hand with all her strength as he led the way up the path to the front door of a welcoming-looking house. He opened the door and called, “Gram, I got company for you.”

      A dog barked from somewhere inside.

      Mikey pressed to Emily’s legs. He vibrated and she squeezed his shoulder. “We’re going to be just fine, Mikey.” The doctor had assured her that her memory would return, though he couldn’t guess as to when. In its own good time, he’d said. Be patient, he’d warned. Not that she saw she had much choice.

      They stepped through a tiny entryway with oval-shaped glass in both the outer and inner door. The beveled edges of the glass would refract the light and make rainbow colors on the floors and walls that children would admire.

      She gave the room a sweeping glance, hoping something would trigger her mind into remembering. The front room in which they stood was welcoming. A dark green couch had a knitted afghan in variegated greens on one arm, and an overstuffed armchair sat on either side of the couch. A yellow canary sang in a cage close to a window.

      Mikey noticed it and pointed. “Bir, bir.”

      “Bird. That’s right,” she murmured as she continued her study. One big window overlooked the street, another on the far wall revealed a wide-branched tree with a garden table and two wrought-iron chairs beneath its leafy arches. A fine place to sit and read or sew. A fireplace, a full bookcase and a china cupboard of knickknacks all combined to make the room warm and welcoming.

      But nothing triggered a sudden remembrance of who she was.

      Three doors led from the room. One revealed a set of stairs, the second gave a glimpse of a kitchen. The third flew open and a small, older woman flew out, a little brown dog that looked to be part Chihuahua barking at her heels.

      “Muffin, be quiet,” the woman ordered, and the dog immediately settled down. “Company. What a pleasant surprise. Do come in. I prefer to serve tea in the kitchen.” She hesitated. “But if you prefer the living room, that is fine with me.”

      Jesse chuckled. “Gram, I’d like you to meet Emily and Mikey. Emily, Mikey, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Whitley.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” Emily offered her hand.

      The petite woman had twinkling brown eyes and white hair in a loose bun. Something about the spry lady brought a smile to Emily’s lips.

      Mrs. Whitley took Emily’s hand between her own. “It’s my pleasure, for sure.” She touched Mikey on the head and dropped her hand again before Mikey could respond. She shifted her gaze to Jesse. “Bring your guests to the kitchen, then you can tell me what’s going on.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      The note of fondness in his voice eased the strain gripping Emily’s heart. She knew that Jesse was the sheriff and this lady was his grandmother. From their short interaction, she knew nothing more except they were genuinely fond of and respected each other. It was enough to know she would be safe here until her memory returned.

      They made their way to the kitchen.

      She studied this room as carefully as she had the other. A worn, wooden table sat by big windows that gave a view of the backyard with a garden in its full glory, a row of raspberry bushes along the fence and flowers blooming in a riot of reds and pinks and white in wide rows. Vegetable plants were visible beyond the flowers.

      Another window over the kitchen sink looked out on the side yard and the same leafy tree as she’d seen from the living room. There were also generous cupboards and a polished stove.

      Emily held back a frustrated sigh that, although she knew the name of everything in the room and what its use was, nothing triggered her memory.

      Mrs. Whitley bustled about preparing tea. She served milk and cookies to Mikey and waved Emily to a chair. Jesse sat beside her.

      In a low voice he explained about the stagecoach robbery and accident.

      Emily shuddered.

      “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you.” He patted her arm.

      Mrs. Whitley touched her arm on the other side. “You must feel all out of place, not knowing who you are, but not to worry, my dear. You’ll soon be right as rain in June. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.” She shifted her attention to Mikey and brushed his hair off his forehead. “It will be nice to have a little man around again. It’s been some time since Jesse here was small.” The glance she gave Jesse revealed a wealth of love and affection.

      Emily turned from watching them to study Mikey. She felt a fondness for him that soothed her, but shouldn’t she know if he was her son? She couldn’t imagine forgetting a child she’d carried for nine months.

      She didn’t realize how long she’d been looking at the boy, nor how worried she’d become, until Jesse touched her shoulder. She jolted as if he’d awakened her from a dream. If only he had.

      “Don’t fret. Remember what the doctor said.”

      “I know. Don’t push it.”

      “Grandma, Emily, I hate to rush out but I must get back to the stagecoach and look for clues before it rains.”

      “You