Montana Mail-Order Wife. Charlotte Douglas
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Sinclair smiled and shook her head. “Not that kind of hysteria. Amnesia caused by psychological trauma. Imagine what she experienced, plunging into that deep ravine in a tumbling, burning railroad car.”
Wade nodded. Rachel had been air-lifted to Libby, partly because Wade was there, but mostly because the Kalispell hospital was filled to capacity with other wreck victims. He jerked his wandering attention back to the doctor.
“Her mind may be protecting her from reexperiencing that nightmare by shutting down her memories.”
“But she’ll get them back?”
Sinclair patted his hand, reminding him of his long-dead mother. “In a few days, if her memory loss is due to physical trauma.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“When she’s strong enough to face the memories.”
“Soon?”
The little doctor shrugged. “Maybe the next time she awakens, maybe in a few days.” Her voice had an upward inflection, hinting of things left unsaid.
“Or?”
Dr. Sinclair avoided his eyes. “Maybe never.”
“Never? But you said there’s no permanent injury to her brain—”
“In spite of medical advances, many mysteries of the human mind are still unsolved.” Her smile didn’t hide her weariness. “But you’re worrying prematurely. She may recall everything when she awakes again.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Her memories could come rushing back anytime, or they could return gradually in bits and pieces.”
He glanced into the room at the sleeping Rachel. If she didn’t remember soon, she’d be in for a rough time. She’d need care, attention and reassurance. The prospect of providing for her warmed him—until his common sense kicked in.
Feelings played no part in their relationship, and Jordan was enough to worry about. Rachel was supposed to ease his troubles, not add to them.
He hardened his heart and looked away. No point in worrying about what only time could cure. He glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he might reach home before Jordan’s bedtime. “What about her family?”
Dr. Sinclair shook her head. “The local authorities traced her to Atlanta, then back to Missouri. Her parents are deceased. She was their only child.”
“No aunts or uncles, cousins?”
The doctor shook her head. “Not that they could find.”
“What about close friends?”
“There’s no one.”
The tenderness he’d tried to suppress surged through him. “Poor kid.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Dr. Sinclair patted his hand again. “After all, she has you.”
Chapter Two
“Rachel.”
Sitting up in bed, she shaped the alien name with her lips, but it lacked familiarity.
She grimaced in disgust. So what else was new? Nothing seemed familiar. Nothing except her face in the mirror. She choked back a derisive laugh. What a big help. She recognized herself.
When she’d awakened this morning, she’d thought at first she’d dreamed Wade Garrett and her amnesia, until she had to admit her encounter with Wade was the only memory she possessed.
He’d said they weren’t related and had never met. But who was he?
Some religious zealot dedicating his life to visiting the sick? She quickly rejected that idea. The man had too much devil in his deep brown eyes.
Maybe he was a plainclothes policeman. Had she been fleeing some crime when her train crashed? After her heart stopped thundering in her chest, she discarded that possibility, too. Although she couldn’t remember, she could still feel, and she didn’t feel like a criminal.
In frustration, she pounded her pillow with her fists. No use wondering who Wade Garrett was when she’d probably never see him again.
The thought gave her no comfort.
“Rachel. Rachel O’Riley.”
She repeated the name, hoping to trigger a response, but her mind remained a wasteland, barren of any recollection except the most mundane.
“The doctor says fresh air will do you good.” Wade Garrett lounged in the doorway of her room, one elbow propped against the doorjamb, the thumb of his other hand tucked in the low-slung waistband of his jeans.
His sudden appearance delighted and annoyed her, immobilizing her with indecision. “Who are you?”
His intriguing face crumpled with dismay. “Don’t you remember?”
“I know you’re Wade Garrett,” she said with impatience, “but what do you have to do with me?”
“You feel up to a walk around the grounds?” His slow smile heated up the room.
“If I walk with you, will you answer my question?”
He regarded her solemnly for a moment, then nodded.
A younger, more handsome version of the Marlboro Man, that’s who he reminded her of, with his chiseled features, sun-streaked hair and wind-burned skin. Another useless bit of information remembered. She clenched her fists in frustration at the quickening of her pulse and the flush that seared her cheeks.
Hoping to fill the emptiness with his presence, she couldn’t deny she’d been waiting for him all morning. But only for what he could tell her, she assured herself. Her racing blood and somersaulting stomach at the sight of the stranger were due strictly to her thirst for information. Neither Dr. Sinclair nor the nurses would tell her anything, but maybe Wade could furnish the facts she couldn’t recall.
She forced a smile with more bravery than she felt. After all, he’d promised answers. “I’d take you up on that walk, but my legs are a bit shaky.”
They’d gotten a whole lot shakier since he arrived.
His gaze scanned her legs, from the bottom of her short hospital gown to her ankles, crossed atop the covers. “They look fine to me.”
Her misgivings melted as the heat in his dark eyes transferred to the pit of her stomach. In a futile effort, she tugged at the hem of her gown. No sense going all warm and snuggly over Wade Garrett, when, for all she knew, she had a husband and three kids somewhere, waiting for her to come home.
Home.
Where was home? And what was she doing here, fighting the desire to throw herself into a tall stranger’s arms and have him take care of her?
She swung her legs off the bed on the side away from Wade and tugged on the shapeless cotton robe the hospital had provided. Shaky legs or not, she’d accompany him until he’d given her some explanations. She slid her feet into frumpy hospital slippers and stood on wobbly limbs.
In an instant, Wade was beside her, gripping her elbow to steady her. “Lean on me.”
She jumped at his touch and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her.
What was the matter with her? Why had she hopped like water on a hot griddle at the pressure of his hand? She glanced into bottomless brown eyes that registered his confusion at her reaction. He’d offered a simple gesture of help and thoughtful words. She’d responded as if he’d electrocuted her.
Bewilderment brought tears to her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. Undeterred, Wade reached for her elbow again, but she shook off his assistance, hesitant to be indebted to a man she knew nothing about.
“I’ll