A Husband Worth Waiting For. Grace Green
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a name like that? “Oh, sure,” he said brightly. “A wife.”
“Good,” the doctor said. “Now take it easy for the next few days. You’ve had a nasty knock. No drinking, no driving. And stay quiet. Take a break from work.”
“Sure.” Work? Did he work? Or was he perhaps a dilettante playboy? Surreptitiously, hopefully, he turned over his hands and stole a glance at his palms—
Hey, would you look at those calluses! Those were not the hands of a man who lived a life of glitz and glamour.
But they were the hands of a man who didn’t ask for directions when he was lost. That much he knew, and the knowledge was innate. It probably went all the way back to caveman days, when no caveman worth his salt would have asked another caveman where the best buffalo were roaming.
“Any questions?” The doctor stood poised to leave.
“Nope.”
“Remember anything of the accident?”
Jedidiah shook his head. And winced as pain sliced through it.
“It might come back, but probably won’t. Most people find that because of the trauma it’s blocked out of their minds permanently. You may also find that the swelling around your brain will have caused further memory loss. As the swelling subsides, those memories—your personal memories—should eventually return.” The doctor was halfway to the door. “Any problems, just give me a call.”
“Will do. And thanks.”
After the doctor left, the nurse said, “You’ll find all your clothes in that locker by your bed.” She headed for the door.
Jedidiah said, “Hold on a minute.”
She turned.
“Has my…wife called this morning?”
“She called first thing and then she called again, just after ten. I told her I’d phone back after the doctor had seen you. I’ll call her now and tell her she can come pick you up.”
“Call me a cab instead.”
“But your wife—”
“I want to surprise her.”
The nurse beamed. “I’ll call you that cab. And I’ll come back shortly to wheel you downstairs.”
As the sound of the nurse’s brisk footsteps faded along the corridor, Jedidiah swung his legs off the bed, then paused as a wave of giddiness assailed him. When he finally stood, the floor seemed to tilt. He grasped the bed rail, and once he felt steadier, he moved to his locker.
When he looked at his clothes, they were unfamiliar to him. Blue jeans, denim shirt, navy jacket. It was as if he’d never seen them before.
Yet he knew what they were called; and when he withdrew his black leather wallet from his hip pocket, he knew it was called a wallet. Odd how his mind had retained that kind of information, yet all his personal memories seemed lost.
He unfolded the wallet and riffled curiously through its contents. He found over seventy dollars in bills; a few credit cards; a receipt for gas. And his driver’s license. He noted his address—Morgan’s Hope, Whispering Mountain, B.C. He checked his birth date against the date on the gas receipt and figured he was almost thirty-five. Looking at his photo was like looking at the face of a stranger—a stranger with dark hair and an even darker scowl.
He searched further, hoping to find a picture of his wife, but no luck. He slid the wallet back into the pocket, his mind swirling with questions.
When he got home, he’d get his wife to answer them.
He scraped a rueful hand through his hair. His wife.
He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like!
“Mom, how come you’re unloading all that stuff from the car and bringing it into our uncle’s house?”
Over the bulky bag in her arms, Sarah peeked at Emma and Jamie, who were zooming Jamie’s Tonka trucks over the foyer carpet. “When I called the nurse she said that when your uncle gets home, he’d need taking care of for a few days. I plan to look after him.”
Even if he didn’t want her to, Sarah reflected as nervousness churned her stomach. But she hoped he wouldn’t be up to arguing. In fact, she was counting on it. She desperately needed time to regroup, time to decide where to go when she left Morgan’s Hope.
“When are we going to the hospital?” Jamie asked.
“The nurse promised to phone me after the doctor had made his rounds. I’m surprised she hasn’t called yet.”
“It’ll be a lovely surprise for our uncle,” Emma said happily, “to find that we’ve moved ourselves in!” “Need a hand, buddy?” The cabdriver squinted against the sun as he peered up through his open window at Jedidiah, who was tucking his wallet away. “You seemed a bit unsteady on your pins, back there at the hospital.”
“Thanks, I’m okay.”
“Nice place you got here.”
“Mmm.” Jedidiah’s attention was fixed on the rusty blue Cutlass parked by the front door. His wife’s? How come she drove a dilapidated old vehicle when apparently his own vehicle had been a latemodel Range Rover?
The cabbie gestured toward Max, who had also been a passenger in his cab but was now standing by his master. “Amazing that your dog was hanging around waiting for you in the hospital grounds. He must’ve followed the ambulance all the way to town yesterday. Lucky you had a name tag on him, prove he was yours. Sure are faithful, those mutts.”
“Yeah.” Jedidiah set a hand on Max’s head and the animal looked up at him adoringly.
“Better’n a woman any day!” With a quick grin, the cabbie put his vehicle in gear and drove away.
Jedidiah’s eyes were thoughtful as he walked with an unsteady gait to the house. Inside waited his wife. Her name was Sarah, according to a remark dropped by the redheaded nurse when she’d wheeled him down to the entrance. And Sarah had visited him yesterday, the nurse had confided, though he’d been too out of it to know it.
If he had seen her, would he have recognized her? He doubted he would….
He remembered nothing of her. Nothing of his past.
Remembered nothing of this house.
“Nice place,” the cabbie had remarked, and he’d been right. It was a very nice place indeed, with clean lines and an attractive symmetry to it. He liked the pink brick walls, the white trim, the indigo-blue door. And he liked the arrangement of potted shrubs set around the entrance.
Everywhere he looked, he saw order.
And money.
He glanced at his palms again, and frowned. Those calluses. What the heck kind of work did he do that he could afford such a place?
Squaring his shoulders, he said, “C’mon, Max. Let’s go inside and find out.”
But Max had loped away into the forest.
The front door was unlocked.
Jedidiah opened it. Closed it. Took off his shoes. Stepped forward into the foyer.
And that’s when he saw them.
Two children, a boy of around three and a girl maybe a couple of years older, sitting on the carpet over by the staircase, playing with blocks. They were so intent on what they were doing they didn’t notice him.
He stood, watching. Fascinated.
The boy was slightly built, with a sweep of ash-blond hair. He was wearing jeans and a red sweater. The girl was sturdier, but her hair was equally blond and styled in a long braid. She, too, was wearing jeans, but her sweater was blue with a pattern of snowflakes.
He cleared