The Texan's Future Bride. Sheri WhiteFeather
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Then Tammy looked up and said, “There’s Mike,” as her fiancé strode toward them.
Jenna got to her feet, with Tammy on her heels.
Doc said to them, “The results were normal, but we’re going to keep him overnight for observation.”
“Then what?” Jenna asked.
“Then we’ll reevaluate his condition in the morning.”
“Do you think his memory will return by then?”
“It’s possible. Oftentimes these sorts of lapses only last a day or two. But it could continue for a while. It’s hard to say.”
“Can I see him?”
“Once we check him into a room, you can visit him.”
By the time that happened, the stranger was asleep. Doc and Tammy went home, and Jenna sat in a stiff plastic chair beside his bed and watched him. She used the opportunity to study his features: dark eyebrows, a strong, sharp nose, cheekbones a male model would envy, medium-size lips with a bit of a downward slant. That made her curious about his smile. Was it bright? Crooked? Brooding? She noticed that he was harboring a five-o’clock shadow. The sexy scruff made him look even more like the cowboy she assumed he was. The hospital gown, however, didn’t; it robbed him of his edge.
He stirred in his sleep, and she frowned. Although he had a semiprivate room and the curtain was drawn, the TV of the older man next to him sounded in her ears. A game show was playing, a program that had been on the air since she was a kid. She’d never actually seen it, not all the way through. But she’d gotten used to hearing the noisy show in the background when her dad used to watch it, much like she was hearing it now.
Tuning out the sound, she studied the stranger again. Because she was tempted to skim his cheek and feel the warmth of his skin, she kept her hands on her lap. She even curled her fingers to keep them still. Being this close to him while he slept wasn’t a good idea. She should go home, but she stayed for as long as the hospital would allow, already anxious to return the following day.
In the morning, Jenna had breakfast with her sister in the main house, surrounded by retro-style gingham accents in the kitchen. Unfortunately it was too early to head over to the hospital. With the exception of spouses and significant others, visiting hours were limited.
She’d barely slept last night, wondering if the stranger would recoup his memory today.
She glanced across the table at Donna, but her sister didn’t look up. She was busy texting, in between sips of fresh-brewed coffee and bites of a Spanish omelet, courtesy of the soon-to-retire cook.
Jenna continued to study Donna. They’d always been different from each other. Jenna, a certified horseback riding instructor, loved everything country, and Donna, a magazine writer turned marketer, loved everything city. As soon as the B and B was off the ground, Donna would be returning to New York, where she lived and worked. Jenna, on the other hand, planned to stay at the ranch and help run the B and B with Tammy.
Donna finally glanced up. “What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Then why were you staring at me?”
“I was just thinking about how opposite we are.”
“We’re siblings, not clones.”
“Yes, but you’d think that we would have more in common. Or look more alike or whatever.” Although both were blonde, Donna was a year older, three inches taller and wildly curvy. She had the figure of a 1940s pinup, while Jenna was small and lean.
Donna shrugged and went back to texting, and Jenna considered how distant their relationship was. Her sister had trouble connecting with people on an emotional level, but Jenna could hardly blame her. They’d been raised in a go-your-own-way environment.
Tammy entered the room, and Jenna immediately said, “Hi.”
“Hello, yourself.” Their cousin sat down and greeted Donna, as well. Then she turned back to Jenna and said, “Mike left a couple of hours ago to check on our patient.”
Her stomach fluttered. “He did? Any word?”
“From Mike? No. But I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”
Donna quit texting. “What patient? Who’s sick?”
Jenna answered, “I found a man yesterday. He was wandering around on the road with a concussion.” She went on to explain the details. “Hopefully he’ll be better today.”
“Wow,” Donna said. “Can you imagine losing your memory?”
No, but Jenna wouldn’t mind forgetting about the mess their dad had made of things. But he’d been notorious for disappointing her, even when she was a child. He’d never been there when she needed him. He’d been too busy with his corporate job. He rarely attended parent-teacher conferences or planned birthday parties or took his daughters to the movies or engaged in the types of activities that would have made them seem more like a family.
She glanced at Donna. Funny thing about her sister. Before the skeleton in Dad’s closet had surfaced, Donna used to idolize him. He’d been her hero, the person she often emulated, particularly with her workaholic, career-is-king habits. Not that Donna would ever admit how deeply he influenced her. But Jenna was keenly aware of it.
Clearing the Dad-clutter from her mind, Jenna said to Tammy, “I was planning on going to the hospital later, but maybe I should wait for Mike to call.”
“It might take him a while to check in,” her cousin replied. “He has a lot of rounds to make. Why don’t you head over to the hospital now and look in on the man? I can tell you’re still worried about him.”
“I can’t see him until noon.”
“Says who?”
“The hospital visiting hours.”
Tammy waved away the rules. “They probably won’t notice if you slip in a little early.”
“I think it would be better if I went at noon.” She wasn’t comfortable taking liberties. She preferred to play by the book.
Tammy didn’t push her out of her comfort zone and neither did Donna. They allowed her to be her regimented self.
When the time rolled around for her to get ready, she donned classic Western wear: a broomstick skirt, a feminine blouse and a nice pair of boots. She freshened up her face and fluffed her hair, too. Not that it should matter what the stranger thought of her appearance. If he was better today, this would probably be the last time she saw him.
She arrived at the hospital at twelve o’clock sharp and went to the nurses’ station, where she inquired about the patient’s condition. They informed her that he was awake and coherent, and once everything was in order, Dr. Sanchez would be releasing him.
So, he was better.
She thanked them for the information and continued down the hall. A moment later, she stalled. She was nervous about conversing with him.
Pushing past the trepidation, she proceeded. She entered his room and passed the TV-watching patient. Today he was engaged in a sitcom from the seventies. He didn’t glance her way, and she left him alone, too.
She moved forward and came face-to-face with the stranger. He was sitting up in bed. His gaze zeroed in on hers, and her heart went bumpy.
“Good morning,” she said, keeping a calm voice.
“You’re the girl from yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“The blonde I thought I was dating. I’m sorry about that.”
Dang. Did he have to go and mention it? “It’s okay. You were out of it.”
He nodded, and she took the