“I’ll help you.”
He let out a weary sigh and rested his forehead against hers. Involuntarily her fingers caught in the thick threads of his sweater. So desperately, she wanted him to understand, remember, recapture that fleeting love they’d shared.
One of his hands stroked her cheek, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “You—you’ve got a medical practice—a future, and you’re a gorgeous, intelligent woman. Any man would count himself lucky if you just looked sideways at him.”
“I’m not interested in ‘any man,’ ” she pointed out. “Just one.”
“Oh, Shawna,” he moaned, his voice as low as the wind rustling through the rafters of the old house. Against her cheek, his fingers trembled.
A hot lump filled her throat. “How come I feel like you’re trying to push me away?”
“Because I am. I have to. I can’t tie you down to this!” He gestured to his legs, furious that they wouldn’t obey his commands.
“Let me make that decision.” Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled bravely just the same. “I’ll decide if you’re so horrible that any sane woman wouldn’t be interested in you.”
From the doorway to the den, Melinda coughed. She glanced guiltily away, as if she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but hadn’t been able to stop herself from witnessing the tender scene between Parker and Shawna. “If you want me to, I’ll leave,” she said, chin quivering.
“Not yet.” Straightening, Parker rubbed one hand around his shoulders, as if to relieve a coiled tension in his muscles. “Not yet.” He swung his crutches forward and hobbled down the two steps into the den.
Steeling herself, Shawna followed, only to find that Melinda had already lit a fire in the grate and had placed a carafe of coffee on the table. “You’ve been here a while.”
Melinda shrugged but resentment smoldered in her large brown eyes. “I, um, didn’t expect you.”
Parker met the questions in Melinda’s gaze. “I think we’d better set a few ground rules. First of all, I don’t remember you, not in the way you think I should,” he said to Melinda. “But, if that child is really mine, I’ll do right by you.”
“That’s all I’d expect,” Melinda replied quickly. “I’m just concerned for my baby.”
Shawna’s hands shook. Just thinking that Parker might have a child with someone else, even a child conceived before they had met, tore at her soul.
I can handle this,
she told herself over and over again, trying to convince herself.
“Okay, so how did we meet?” Parker said, leaning forward and cringing a little when a jab of pain shot through him.
“I—I was a friend of Brad’s. I, uh, used to watch him play and you coached him. Brad—he introduced us.”
“How did you know Brad?”
Melinda looked down at her hands. “We went to school together in Cleveland, before he dropped out,” she explained. “We, uh, used to date.”
“But then you met Parker,” Shawna prodded.
“Yes, and, well, Brad was seeing someone else, Parker and I hit it off, and then—” She licked her lips. “We fell in love. Until you came along.”
Shawna exhaled slowly. How much of Melinda’s story was fact and how much fantasy? If only Parker could remember! She wanted to hate the girl but couldn’t. Melinda was afraid of something, or someone; it was written all over her downcast face.
“Do you have any family?” Parker asked.
“Not around here. My dad’s a widower.”
“Does he know that you’re pregnant?”
“I didn’t know until I saw
her
yesterday,” Melinda said, then her shoulders slumped. “Though I guess I kinda expected it. But Dad, even if he did know, he wouldn’t care. I haven’t lived at home for a couple of years.”
“I thought you said he’d kill you,” Shawna whispered.
“I guess I was wrong.” Melinda swallowed hard and Shawna almost felt sorry for her. “Look, I made a mistake. It’s no big deal,” she said, her temper flaring. “The thing is I’m in trouble, okay? And it’s
his
fault. You know I’m not lying; you’re the one who did the test.”
Shawna slowly counted to ten. She couldn’t lose her self-control. Not now. “Fine. Let’s start over.”
“I didn’t come here to talk to you.”
“This involves all of us,” Parker said.
Shawna asked, “Did you finish high school?”
“Yep.” Melinda flopped onto one of the cushions of the leather couch and stared at the ceiling. “I was going to be a model. Until I met Parker.”
“After Brad.”
“Right.”
Shawna wondered how much, if any, of the girl’s story were true. “And then you were swept off your feet?”
“That’s about it,” Melinda said, her smile faltering.
Parker’s expression was unreadable. He stared at Melinda, his lips pressed together, as if he, too, were trying to find flaws in her words, some key to what had really happened. “Then you won’t mind if I have a friend of mine look up your father, just to verify a few things,” Parker said slowly.
Beneath her tan, Melinda blanched, but said, “Do what you have to do. It won’t change anything, and at least then maybe she’ll believe me.” Disturbed, she slung her purse over her shoulder and left, the heels of her boots echoing loudly on the tiles of the foyer. A few seconds later Shawna heard the front door slam.
“Does anything she said sound true?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Parker sighed heavily and, groaning, pushed himself to his feet. “I just don’t know.” Leaning one shoulder against the stones of the fireplace, he stared into the glowing red embers of the fire. “But she seemed pretty sure of herself. That seems to be a trait of the women I knew.”
The firelight flickered on his face, causing uneven red shadows to highlight the hard angle of his jaw. He added, “You know you can’t stay here.”
“I have to.”
“You don’t owe me any debts, if that’s what you think.”
“You need someone to look after you.”
“Like hell!” he muttered, his eyes blazing with the reflection of the coals. “What I don’t need is anyone who thinks they owe me.”
“You just don’t understand, do you?” she whispered, so furious she was beginning to shake again. “You just don’t understand how much I love you.”
“Loved. Past tense.”
Standing, she tossed her hair away from her face and met his fierce, uncompromising stare. “One accident doesn’t change the depth of my feelings, Parker. Nor does it, in any way, shape or form, alter the fact that I love you for life, no matter what. Legally, I suppose, you can force me out of here. Or, you could make my life here so intolerable that I’d eventually throw in the towel and move. But you can’t,
can’t
destroy the simple fact that I love you and always will.” Into the silence that followed, she said, “I’ve made up the guest room for you so you won’t have to hassle with the stairs. I’ve moved all of your clothes and things down here.”
“And you—where do you intend to sleep?”
“Upstairs—for now. Just until this Melinda thing is straightened out.”
“And then?”
“Then, I hope, you’ll want me to sleep with you.”
“As man and wife?”
“Yes. If I can ever get it through that thick skull of yours that we belong together! So,” she added fiercely, “if we’re finished arguing, I’ll make dinner.” Leaving him speechless, she marched out of the room, fingers crossed, hoping that somehow, some way, she could help him remember everything.
Parker stared after her in amazement. Nothing was going as he’d planned. Ever since she’d bulldozed her way back into his life, he seemed to have lost control—not only of his past, but of his future.
Unfortunately, he admired her grit and determination, and even smiled to himself when he remembered how emphatic she’d become when she’d told him she intended to sleep with him. Any other man would jump at the chance of making love to her—but then any other man could jump and make love. So far he hadn’t done either since the accident. He was sure he couldn’t do one. As for the other, he hoped that he was experiencing only a temporary setback. He smiled a little. Earlier, when he’d fallen on the ground and he’d kissed Shawna, he’d felt the faintest of stirrings deep within.
Now, he found his crutches and pushed himself down the hallway toward the kitchen. Shawna was so passionate, so full of life. Why would he betray her with a woman who was barely out of childhood?
He leaned one shoulder against the wall and watched Shawna working in the kitchen. She’d tied a towel over her wool skirt, clipped her hair loosely away from her face, and kicked her shoes into a corner. In stocking feet and reading glasses, she sliced vegetables near the sink. She was humming—actually humming—as she worked, and she seemed completely at home and comfortable in his house, as though their argument and Melinda’s baby didn’t exist.
Watching her furtively, listening to the soft sound of her voice, seeing the smile playing upon her lips, he couldn’t help feeling as lighthearted as she. She was a beautiful, intriguing woman—a woman with determination and courage—and she gave her love to him so completely.
So how could he have betrayed her? Deep inside, he knew he wouldn’t have cheated on her. Yet he couldn’t dismiss the fact that he vaguely remembered Melinda James.
She glanced up sharply, as if sensing him for the first time, and she blushed. “I didn’t hear you.”
“It’s okay, I was just watching.”
“Well, come in and take a center seat. No reason to hide in the hall,” she teased.
Parker grinned and hobbled into the kitchen where he half fell into one of the caned chairs. “Don’t let me disturb you,” he said.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” She pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and continued reading a recipe card. “You’re in for the thrill of your life,” she declared.
“Coq au vin
à la Shawna. This is going to be great.”
“I know,” he admitted, folding his arms over his chest, propping his bad leg on a nearby chair, and grinning to himself. Great it would be, but he wasn’t thinking about the chicken in wine.
C
HAPTER
9
Shawna eyed the dining room table critically. It gleamed with a fresh coat of wax and reflected the tiny flames of two creamy white candles. She’d polished the brass candlesticks and placed a fresh bouquet of roses and baby’s breath between the flickering candles.
Tonight, whether Parker was agreeable or not, they were going to celebrate. She’d been living with him for over three weeks in a tentative truce. Fortunately, Melinda hadn’t intruded, though Parker had spoken with her on the phone several times.
“Buck up,” she told herself, as she thought about the girl. Melinda was pregnant and they couldn’t ignore her. Even though neither she nor Parker had brought up the subject of Melinda’s baby, it was always in the air, an invisible barrier between them.
In the past weeks, Parker had spent his days in physical therapy, either at Mercy Hospital or here, at the house.
Shawna rearranged one drooping flower and frowned. As a doctor, she knew that Parker was pushing himself to the limit, forcing muscles and ligaments to work, as if regaining full use of his leg would somehow trip his memory. Though Shawna had begged him to slow down, he’d refused to listen, mule-headedly driving himself into a state of utter exhaustion.
Finally, at the end of the third week, he’d improved to the point that he was walking with only the aid of a cane.
To celebrate, she’d taken the afternoon off and had been waiting for him, cooking and cleaning and feeling nearly as if she belonged in his house—almost as if she were his wife.
She heard his car in the drive. Smiling, she hurried into the kitchen to add the last touches to the beef stroganoff simmering on the stove.
Parker opened the back door and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. His hair was dark with sweat and his face was gaunt and strained as he hung his cane over the back of his chair. He winced as he lifted his bad leg and propped it on a stool. Glancing up, he forced a tired smile. “Hi.”
Shawna leaned over the counter separating kitchen from nook. “Hi, yourself.”
“I thought you had the late shift.”
“I traded so that we could have dinner together,” she said.
“Sounds good.” But he really wasn’t listening. He was massaging his knee, his lips tightening as his fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again,” she said softly, worried that he would do himself more damage than good.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m a doctor.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t I know it?”
“Parker, please,” she said, kneeling in front of him and placing a kiss on his sweat-dampened forehead. “Take it easy.”
“I can’t.”
“There’s plenty of time—”
“Do you really believe that?” He was staring at her suspiciously, as if he thought she was lying to him.
“You’ve got the rest of your—”
“Easy for you to say,
Doctor,”
he snapped. “You’re not facing the rest of your life with this!” He lifted his cane, then, furious with the damned thing, hurled it angrily across the room. It skidded on the blue tiles and smashed into a far wall.
Shawna wanted to lecture him, but didn’t. Instead she straightened and pretended interest in the simmering sauce. “I, uh, take it the session wasn’t the best.”
“You take it right, Doctor. But then you know everything, don’t you?” He gestured toward the stove. “What I should eat, where I should sleep, how fast I should improve—all on your neat little schedule!”
His words stung, and she gasped before stiffening her back and pretending he hadn’t wounded her. The tension between them had been mounting for weeks. He was disappointed, she told herself.
But he must have recognized her pain. He made a feeble gesture of apology with his hand, then, bracing his palms on the table, forced himself upright.
“I wish things were different,” he finally said, gripping the counter with both hands, “but they’re not. You’re a good woman, Shawna—better than I deserve. Do yourself a favor and forget about me. Find yourself a whole man.”
“I have,” she whispered, her throat swollen tight. “He’s just too pigheaded to know it.”
“I mean it—”
“And so do I,” she whispered. “I love you, Parker. I always will. That’s just the way it is.”
He stared at her in amazement, then leaned back, propping his head against the wall. “Oh, God,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “You live in such a romantic dream world.” When he dropped his hands, his expression had changed to a mask of indifference.
“If I live in a dream world,” she said quietly, “it’s a world that you created.”
“Then it’s over,” he decided, straightening. “It’s just ... gone. It vanished that night.”
Shawna ignored the stab of pain in her heart. “I don’t believe you and I won’t. Until you’re completely well and have regained all of your memory, I won’t give up.”
“Shawna—”
“Remember that ‘for better or worse’ line?”
“We didn’t get married.”
Yet, she thought wildly. “Doesn’t matter. In my heart I’m committed to you, and only when you tell me that you remember everything we shared and it means nothing to you—then I’ll give up!”
“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, “ever again.”
“You won’t.” The lie almost caught on her tongue.
“I wish I was as sure as you.”
Her heart squeezed as she studied him, his body drenched in sweat, his shoulder balanced precariously against the wall.
As if reading the pity in her eyes, he swore, anger darkening his face. Casting her a disbelieving glance, he limped down the hall to his room and slammed the door so hard that the sound echoed through the old house.
Shawna stared after him. Why couldn’t he remember how strong their love had been?
Why?
Feeling the need to break down and cry like a baby, she steeled herself. In frustration, she reached for the phone, hoping to call her brother or her friend Gerri or anyone to whom she could vent her frustrations. But when she placed the receiver to her ear, she heard Parker on the bedroom extension.
“That’s right ... everything you can find out about her. The name’s James—Melinda James. I don’t know her middle name. She claims to have been living in Cleveland and that she grew up with Brad Lomax.”
Quietly, Shawna replaced the receiver. It seemed that no matter where she turned or how fiercely she clung to the ashes of the love she and Parker had once shared, the winds of fate blew them from her fingers.
Dying a little inside, she wondered if he was right. Maybe the flames of their love couldn’t be rekindled.
“Give him time,” she told herself, but she knew their time was running out. She glanced around the old Tudor house, the home she’d planned to share with him. She’d moved in, but they were both living a lie. He didn’t love her.
Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she turned toward the sink and ran water over the spinach leaves in a colander. She ignored the tears that threatened to form in the corners of her eyes.
Don’t give up!
part of her insisted, while the other, more reasonable side of her nature whispered,
Let him go.
So intent was she on tearing spinach, cutting a hard-boiled egg, and crumbling bacon that she didn’t hear the uneven tread of his footsteps in the hall, didn’t feel his gaze on her back as she worked, still muttering and arguing with herself.
Her first indication that he was in the room with her was the feel of his hands on her waist. She nearly dropped her knife as he bent his head and rested his chin on her shoulder.
“I’m not much good at apologies,” he said softly.
“Neither am I.”
“Oh, Shawna.” His breath fanned her hair, warm and enticing, and her heart took flight. He’d come back! “I know you’re doing what you think is best,” he said huskily. “And I appreciate your help.”
She dropped the knife and the tears she’d been fighting filled her eyes. “I’ve done it because I want to.”
His fingers spanned her waist. “I just don’t understand,” he admitted, “why you want to put up with me.”
She wanted to explain, but he cut her off, his arms encircling her waist, her body drawn to his. His breath was hot on the back of her head and delicious shivers darted along her spine as he pulled her close, so close that her back was pressed against the taut muscles of his chest. A spreading warmth radiated to her most outer limbs as his lips found her nape.
“I—I love you, Parker.”
His muscles flexed and she silently prayed he would return those three simple words.
“That’s why I’m working so hard,” he conceded, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to be able to remember everything.”
“I can wait,” she said.
“But I can’t! I want my life back—all of it. The way it was before the accident. Before—”
He didn’t say it, but she knew.
Before Brad was killed, before Melinda James shattered our lives.
“Maybe we should eat,” she said, hoping to divert him from the guilt that ran rampant every time he thought about Brad.
“You’ve worked hard, haven’t you?”
“It’s a—well, it was a celebration.”
“Oh?”
“Because you’re off crutches and out of the brace,” she said.
“I’ve still got that.” He pointed to where the cane still lay on the floor.
“I know, but it’s the final step.”
“Except for my memory.”
“It’ll come back,” she predicted, sounding more hopeful than she felt. “Come on, now,” she urged. “Make yourself useful. Pour the wine before I ruin dinner and the candles burn out.”
During dinner Shawna felt more lighthearted than she had in weeks. At the end of the meal, when Parker leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, she thought fleetingly that together they could face anything.
“Thanks,” he whispered, “for putting up with me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She could feel her eyes shining in the candlelight, knew her cheeks were tinged with the blush of happiness.
“Let’s finish this—” he said, holding the wine bottle by its neck, “—in the gazebo.”
A dimple creased her cheek. “The gazebo?” she repeated, and grinned from ear to ear as she picked up their wineglasses and dashed to the hallway where her down coat hung. Her heart was pounding with excitement. Just two months earlier, Parker had proposed in the gazebo.
Hand in hand, they walked down a flagstone path that led to the river. The sound of water rushing over stones filled the night air and a breeze, fresh with the scent of the Willamette, lifted Shawna’s hair.
The sky was clear and black. A ribbon of silver moonlight rippled across the dark water to illuminate the bleached wood and smooth white rocks at the river’s edge. On the east bank, lights from neighboring houses glittered and reflected on the water.
Shawna, with Parker’s help, stepped into the gazebo. The slatted wood building was built on the edge of Parker’s property, on the ridge overlooking the Willamette. The gazebo was flanked by lilac bushes, no longer fragrant, their dry leaves rustling in the wind.
As Shawna stared across the water, she felt Parker’s arms slip around her waist, his breath warm against her head, the heat from his body flowing into hers.
“Do—do you remember the last time we were here?” she whispered, her throat swollen with the beautiful memory.
He didn’t say anything.
“You proposed,” she prodded.
“Did I?”
“Yes.” She turned in his arms, facing him. “Late in the summer.”
Squinting his eyes, fighting the darkness shrouding his brain, he struggled, but nothing surfaced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his night-darkened eyes searching hers.
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered. Moonlight shifted across his face, shadowing the sharp angles as he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
Gently, his fingers twined in her hair. “Sometimes I get caught up in your fantasies,” he admitted, his lips twisting cynically.
“This isn’t a fantasy,” she said, seeing her reflection in his eyes. “Just trust me.”
He leaned forward again, brushing his lips suggestively over hers. “That’s the trouble. I do.” He took the wine and glasses and set them on the bench. Placing his palms on her cheeks, he stared into her eyes before kissing her again. Eagerly she responded, her heart pulsing wildly at his touch, her mouth opening willingly to the erotic pressure of his tongue on her lips.
She felt his hands quiver as they slid downward to rest near her neck, gently massaging her nape, before pushing the coat from her shoulders. The night air surrounded her, but she wasn’t cold.
Together, they slid slowly to the weathered floorboards and Parker adjusted her down coat, using its softness as a mattress. Then, still kissing her, he found the buttons of her blouse and loosened them, slipping the soft fabric down her shoulders.