Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Memories - Lois Richer - Страница 14

He would have recognized her anywhere.

Oblivious to the May long weekend crowds thronging the Canadian airport in Edmonton, Jake Elliot strode directly toward Gemma Andrews, her gorgeous, waist-length tumble of auburn hair drawing him like a homing beacon.

“Hello, Gem,” he said when he reached her. “Welcome home.”

Her forest green eyes widened as she surveyed him, studying him as though he was a complete stranger.

“Uh, thank you.” The lack of energy in her response bothered Jake.

“Are you all right?” He glanced at the strip of gauze covering her left temple. “Your head...?”

“Wh-who are you?” The pure panic in her words floored Jake.

“Excuse me.” Only then did Jake notice Gemma’s companion. “I’m Celia Shane from the Canadian embassy in Lima. You are?”

Unease skittered across his nerves. An embassy official had escorted Gem? Because she couldn’t manage the trip on her own or...?

“Jake Elliot. I’m here to take Gemma home.”

“I was told someone, um, older would meet us.” Celia’s phone pinged. She checked it and returned a text. “Apparently there’s been a change. May I see some credentials?”

Jake fumbled for his wallet to show her his driver’s license.

“Thanks. Hello, Jake.” Celia’s calm demeanor offered some serenity to Jake’s whirling thoughts and apparently to Gemma, too, because her scared look eased. “Now, let me explain. As we notified the family, Gemma was at Machu Picchu with a tour group when the earthquake occurred. Subsequent to that notification, we learned she’d been struck by tumbling rocks, had fallen and, as a result of that, she’s lost her memory. Because her head injury was minor and she’s otherwise in good health, the hospital released her. They feel she’ll recover best at home. Besides, they need the beds.”

“Lost her memory?” Jake was stuck on that.

“Temporarily.” Celia smiled. “Her doctors are convinced her memory will return in time.”

“Will she—?”

“You two do know I’m standing here, right?” Gemma interrupted indignantly. “I can speak for myself.”

Ah, that was more like the feisty woman Jake had known.

“Sorry, Gemma.” Celia smiled at her. “Hazard of the job. I tend to take over.”

“I am fine.” Gemma’s eyes met Jake’s with the same directness she’d always employed. “I have a cut on my forehead and my brain is a little dinged up, but as Celia said, supposedly things will return to normal soon. In the meantime, I’m sorry but I don’t know you.”

“Sure you do. I’m Jake, your foster aunts’ handyman.” To his dismay, even that brought no flicker of recognition to her lovely green eyes.

“My foster aunts?” She studied him curiously. “Not my parents or my family?”

“They are your family, Gem.” He hesitated, but maybe more information would reassure her. “Some years ago Tillie and Margaret Spenser brought you and three other foster girls to their home, The Haven, in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies.”

“Um, okay.” Gemma’s blank look remained so Jake pressed on.

“Your sister Victoria lives at The Haven permanently, with her husband and family, and the aunts, of course. Your sister Adele and her husband and kids live next door, while your other sister Olivia and her husband and family live on a nearby acreage.” Still no comprehension. Jake added a little desperately, “They can all hardly wait to see you again.”

“You’ve known me for a while?” she murmured, her expression pensive.

“I came to The Haven six years ago when you were seventeen. I’ve been there ever since.” Jake caught Celia checking her watch. “You need to leave?”

“That text said I’m to fly to Ottawa in an hour to accompany someone back to Peru.” She glanced at Gemma. “If you’re all right?”

“She will be as soon as I get her home.” Jake glanced around. He saw only a battered backpack and a small duffel. “Luggage?”

“Duffel’s mine. The other is hers.” Celia indicated the battered canvas with its multiplicity of stickers. “Authorities found it at the site. The hotel where Gemma and—where she was staying was flattened.”

Gemma and Kurt. That’s what Celia had been going to say. Why had she pulled back?

“The embassy will be certain to forward anything else they recover.” She touched Gemma’s arm. “Is it okay for me to leave you with Jake?”

“You have to go. You need to do your job, help someone else. I understand.” Clearly summoning her pluck, Gemma thrust back her narrow shoulders.

Jake noted the thin cotton shirt she wore was far too large for her lithe frame and not at all her usual style. Well, it hadn’t been, but things changed. Then her smile faltered and he forgot about what she wore as compassion for her suffering welled.

“You’re going to be fine, Gemma.” Celia must have sensed her uncertainty, too.

“Yes, I’m sure I will be.” She cast him a sideways glance. “With Jake.”

He didn’t think Gemma looked or sounded fine. She appeared nervous and uncertain, but in these circumstances, who wouldn’t? Though Jake had wished many times for God to blank out the horror of his own past, he couldn’t begin to imagine how it must feel to have forgotten everyone and everything. It would take time for Gem to feel secure again.

“You’ll feel better once you’re home.” He hoped she could relax. “It’s a long drive to The Haven. If you need to make a stop here, get some coffee or lunch, we’d best do that before we leave.”

“All I want is to freshen up. The flight was long and tiring.” She automatically headed for the ladies’ room, as if she’d done it a hundred times before.

“How did she know where to go?” He stared at her retreating figure.

“Some things she does from rote. I guess that part of her memory is intact. Recent events are a blank though.” Celia shrugged. “She can recite tons of information about lots of different locales she’s taken tours to, but she can’t tell you anything about the earthquake, what happened before or after it, or her personal past. Which reminds me, I need to talk to you before she returns.”

“Okay.”

“Gemma doesn’t remember that she was married,” Celia warned in a low voice. “She doesn’t remember Kurt at all.”

“How could she forget her own husband?”

“It’s part of her injury, I guess.” Celia shrugged. “Anyway, you need to be aware that she also has no idea that he died in the earthquake. My office contacted her family as soon as they found out, but apparently you’d already left to come here. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell her,” the woman explained.

“Why not?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“I couldn’t gauge what her response might be. I was worried that if she reacted badly, there wouldn’t be anyone to support her.” Celia chewed her bottom lip. “Of course, hearing of Kurt’s death might trigger her memories, too. Either way, I believe she needs someone who knew them both to help her through her loss and grief. The important thing, according to her doctors, is that with her type of brain injury, the fastest way to recovery is no stress.”

“You want me to tell her.” Jake’s heart sank as he read between the lines. “You don’t think her aunts should do it?”

“It’s your decision, of course, but I do think it should be you, for several reasons.” Celia frowned. “Gemma will find it difficult enough to deal with the family she doesn’t remember. Four sisters, aunts, nieces and nephews. It’s a lot. I believe it would be simpler for her if she’d already faced the complication of her husband’s death when she meets her family.”

Inwardly Jake groaned. How was he supposed to tell Gem that Kurt, the man she’d loved and married less than a year ago, was gone?

“Mostly I believe you should do it because you’re her friend, her very good friend. Aren’t you?” Celia seemed pleased by his nod. “Excellent. To regain her memories, Gemma’s going to need someone she can lean on, depend on and talk to without worrying about offending them. I think that’s you, Jake. Perhaps during the journey home, you can work it in that she’s now a widow. I—” She stopped. “Here she comes.”

Work it in? Like, “By the way, Gem, nobody told you but you’re now a widow?” Jake’s brain scoffed.

He stood by Celia, watching Gemma stride toward them. She moved easily across the space, making her appear confident and assured. Though appreciative heads turned to admire her beauty, Gemma appeared unaware of the attention. Her intense gaze rested on them.

“I’m ready to go,” she announced, though there was the faintest wobble in the words and her eyes were red. “Thank you for everything, Celia. I appreciate your assistance so much.”

“It was my absolute pleasure, Gemma.” Celia hugged her, a trace of her own tears showing. “I put my card in your pack so that we can keep in touch. I want to know how you’re doing. If you need anything,” she added as she drew away, “anything at all, you let me know and I’ll try to help. Maybe one day you’ll return to Peru and we’ll have lunch together. Adiós o hasta pronto, mi querido amigo.”

“Hasta que nos encontremos de nuevo,” Gemma responded in a very quiet tone.

Jake blinked at her automatic Spanish rejoinder before remembering Gemma was fluent in several languages. Another reason why becoming a tour guide had seemed so perfect for her.

Celia waved, picked up her duffel and hurried away. Gemma watched her leave as though she was losing her best friend.

“Things will get better, Gem,” he reassured her, trying to sound cheerful.

“Promise?” She gave him a half-hearted smile and then slung her pack over one shoulder. “I have a hunch they’re going to get much worse first. I’m ready. I guess.”

Jake had never heard Gemma sound so uncertain. She’d always been full of confidence and assurance.

Had been.

“I could take that—” He immediately choked back his offer to carry her backpack when her chin lifted and she glared at him. “Right. Let’s go.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as they walked toward the exit. Outside in the clear sunlight he hesitated, concerns rising at her fragile appearance. “It’s quite a hike to the car.”

“Do you know me well, Jake?” Gemma’s green eyes challenged him.

“Pretty well,” he said. Not that well, his brain rebuked. You never thought she’d elope. “You’ve been away for a while, but I used to,” he clarified.

“If you know me at all, then you know that I can quite easily manage a little walk across a parking lot. Right?” One auburn eyebrow arched imperiously.

“But you’ve been—right.” He stifled his objection and pointed. “I’m parked over that way.”

Gemma walked beside him, her head swiveling from right to left, taking in the sights of fully leafed trees scattered here and there, and the sound of chirping birds. “It’s summertime.” She sounded surprised.

“Late May. Springtime in North America and not quite summer in the Rockies,” he explained. “The days are much longer but remember our nights are still chilly.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t remember.” She sighed. “So many things I’ve forgotten.”

“So many things to rediscover now that you’re home.” As they reached her foster aunts’ big, roomy SUV, Jake hit the unlock button and opened her door.

His phone dinged with a text which he ignored. Someone needing his help, no doubt. The community had gotten in the habit of calling on him for aid with lots of things, but he was busy helping Gemma right now and she came first. He waited until she was comfortably seated with her backpack on the floor, before he closed her door and took his own seat.

“It’s not going to be a fast trip out of the city,” he warned.

“Rush hour in Edmonton is never fast.” Gemma blinked. “I have no idea how I know that,” she muttered. “Actually, I’m not sure about a whole lot of things. I know what they told me, but I can’t recall any personal details, like my birthday or when I started leading tour groups or—anything.”

“I can tell you a little,” Jake offered. “After you graduated from high school, you studied languages. You were always good at French in school.”

“Le printemps à Paris est le meilleur moment pour visiter,” Gemma murmured. Her eyes flared with surprise. “Uh—”

“See? Your memory is there, Gem. It just needs to wake up.” He grinned at her as they sat at a red light.

“But why do I remember that when I can’t remember my own name or where I live?” She sounded irritated. “Or these aunts you mentioned. Or the sisters. Or this haven place.”

“You’ll love The Haven. It’s a big old stone manor house perched on the top of a hill with the most wonderful view of the valley and in the distance, the Rockies. It’s surrounded by untouched forest.” He felt the intensity of her focus on him. “That’s what makes it such a perfect place for your aunts’ ministries.”

“Ministries?” She blinked. “Like they lead a church there or something?”

“No.” Jake chuckled. “The ladies have faith—very strong faith—in God. They spent years as missionaries in Africa. Now they’re using their home and land as a place for troubled foster kids to come for respite. Your sisters run the programs for them.”

“How old are these aunts?” Gemma asked.

“Seventy-six, but you’d never know it. They are very active and extremely involved in their community. I doubt Tillie and Margaret Spenser will ever truly retire because they love helping people.” Jake paused before adding, “I should know. They saved my life.”

“I’d like to hear that story.” Gemma pressed back against the seat, as if she was finally comfortable with him.

“Maybe some other time,” he said, trying to gird himself for adding to her pain. “First there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

* * *

The serious note in Jake’s voice warned Gemma that whatever he wanted to talk about would not be pleasant. Internal warning signs flared. She was so weary of bracing herself for the unknown. Yet what alternative did she have?

Just then Jake’s phone rang. She waited while he answered it.

“Hey, Marv,” he said after pressing a button on the dashboard.

“Hate to bother you, Jake, but I’m at Gerda Brown’s place, trying to fix her water heater. Except it can’t be done. The thing’s finished and she can’t afford a new one. I already used the spare one you found at O’Shea’s place for someone else last month. Any ideas?”

“I’m tied up at the moment, Marv. Why don’t you go pick up one at the hardware store? Put it on my tab. I’ll figure it out later.” After a few moments he ended the call. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re buying a water heater for somebody who can’t afford one?” When he nodded, she asked, “Why?”

“Because they need it.” He shrugged his wide shoulders as if it didn’t matter. “Anyway, as I was saying. I need to tell you—” His phone rang again and then a third time. His lips pursed but he didn’t answer either call. When Gemma tilted an eyebrow at him, his face reddened and he muttered, “They can wait till I get back.”

She giggled when the phone rang again. “Maybe not.”

“It’s from three different callers. Probably three different issues.” Jake sounded impatient. She guessed he wanted to say whatever was on his mind.

“I’m listening.” She shifted when he didn’t immediately speak. “Tell me what you need to, Jake.”

“It’s sad news, actually.” He licked his lips and then pressed them together. “You were married, Gem. To Kurt Andrews. You eloped about eight months ago.”

The way he said it, in short staccato bursts, revealed his distress in telling her. But she didn’t feel distressed. She felt...empty? The yawning unknown threatened to overwhelm her until she looked at Jake, and some part of her brain calmed. He was a nice guy who bought water heaters for needy women. He’d probably been pressed into duty on her behalf, though he obviously wasn’t comfortable with explaining this. She touched his arm.

“Just tell me,” she murmured. “Then I can deal with it.”

“Kurt was killed in the earthquake.” Jake huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Gem. I don’t have any details. Celia only told me that the embassy is certain he did not survive.”

“Oh.” Gemma frowned. It didn’t feel as if they were talking about anyone she knew, let alone a husband. What did it mean? “Does his family know? Will I have to tell them?”

“You are his family, Gem. His parents died in a car accident just after you were married.” Free of the crush of traffic and now on the divided highway, Jake accelerated.

“No siblings?” Gemma mused, struggling to sort through her building questions.

“You are Kurt’s only remaining family.” Jake frowned when she didn’t immediately respond. “Are you all right?”

“Actually, no.” Gemma couldn’t control her burst of irritation. “I was married less than a year to a man I loved?” She glanced at Jake, relieved to see his firm nod. “I was his wife, yet I feel blank. I’m sad that he died, of course, but it doesn’t feel personal. Isn’t that shameful?”

“No. It’s part of your injury. Truthfully, I’m sort of relieved you don’t remember him yet,” Jake said, a hint of sternness coloring his voice. He looked embarrassed by his admission.

“You are? Why?” Gemma’s curiosity about this unusual man grew.

“Because you’re going to need your strength to deal with your living family,” he told her, his voice very gentle. “Mourning will come later.”

“Did you know Kurt?” Gemma sensed something in Jake’s responses that didn’t jibe with her impression of him as open and honest. It felt like he was hiding something.

“I knew Kurt the same length of time as I’ve known you. He was a local, born and raised in Chokecherry Hollow, that’s the town near your foster aunts’ home.” He shrugged. “I liked him a lot and I know he loved you very much.”

“Oh.” There were a hundred questions roiling inside her head, but suddenly Gemma didn’t want to ask them. She needed time to absorb the fact that she had been a wife—and was now a widow.

To escape the miasma of her whirling brain, she retrieved her backpack. She knew her passport was tucked into the exterior zippered pocket because she’d put it there. She saw Celia’s card there, too. But she’d been too tired and too muddled to open the pack that had been handed to her right before she’d left the hospital.

Now curious about what might lie inside, she unzipped the main cavity and began withdrawing the contents. A wallet of soft white leather came first. A driver’s license tucked under clear plastic revealed her own face staring back at her. She looked so happy. Behind it was a small snapshot of her and a blond-haired, blue-eyed man.

“Is this Kurt?” She held the photo so Jake could see.

“Yes.” A muscle flickered in his jaw. “He’s—he was very attractive. You two looked good together.”

Gemma didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at another photo that was partially stuck to the back of Kurt’s, as if the wallet and pictures had been damp. A little girl, also blonde, also blue-eyed, gazed back at her. She wore a fancy dress like children wear at Christmas or on their birthdays. Perhaps four or five, she appeared happy as she clutched a small brown teddy bear and grinned at the camera as if it was her best friend.

“Do you know who this is?” She held up the photo.

“No. I’ve never seen her before.” Jake glanced at her before suggesting, “A foster child you adopted maybe? You used to support several.”

It was a good guess, but it didn’t feel right to Gemma. Since she had no idea why, she set the photo on the console between them while she checked out the rest of the contents in her backpack, including a metal tag with her name embossed on it. Gemma Andrews, Tour Director, WorldWide Tours. It bore deep scratches.

“I think I was wearing this when they found me,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the marks. “I have a bruise this shape near my shoulder...”

A memory flickered on the fringes of her subconscious. People gathered around her, laughing as she told them a story, but she couldn’t quite recall the entire memory.

“That tag is probably how they identified you. Anything else that’s interesting in there?” Jake asked.

“A sweater.” She drew out the lime-green cardigan and fingered the soft wool. “Alpaca. I’m guessing I got this at Arequipa. That’s where you find the best alpaca garments.” The words spilled out spontaneously, shocking her.

“Did you often take your tour groups there?” Jake’s question shook off her surprise.

“Usually. They always gave our guests these wonderful gift packs of Peruvian coffee” Gemma stared at him. “Hey, I remembered that and I didn’t even try.”

“Perhaps that’s the way it’s going to be,” Jake murmured. “The less you strive to think about it, the more relaxed your brain will be, and you’ll recover quickly.”

“Maybe.” It sounded good, but Gemma couldn’t shake an ominous sense that things were going to get a lot tougher. She replaced everything in the pack, except the sweater which she pulled on, and the picture. The little girl’s joyful face gazed back at her. “She looks so happy, as if she loves whomever she’s looking at.” A wave of wistfulness swamped her.

What was it like to feel so loved? To love someone and know they loved you? Frustrated by her inability to recall anything personal, Gemma tucked the photo into her pocket while she searched for a topic of conversation. Jake beat her to it.

“You must be wondering why I came to get you instead of your family. Your aunts intended to come, as if anything could have stopped them.”

“They’re not here and you are, so something must have,” she pointed out.

“True, though I would have driven them anyway because Margaret—well, let’s say city driving’s not her thing.” He chuckled.

“So they changed their minds.” Gemma shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, they didn’t change their minds. Tillie woke up with a sore throat and a fever.” Jake paused to ask if she wanted to stop for anything. When Gemma declined, he continued. “Margaret intended to come until a guest showed up unexpectedly, a military man she’d been corresponding with for some months. He was desperate to speak to her and she was worried about his mental state. She sends her apologies.”

“Oh.” Gemma didn’t understand what he was talking about. Jake must have realized that because he explained.

“For years your aunts have conducted a letter-writing campaign to our overseas military troops to offer them encouragement, prayers and someone to talk to. The ladies have a huge list of correspondents.” He shrugged. “When they get leave, those folks frequently come to The Haven for a visit, to talk to the ladies personally.”

“I see.” So her aunts had several ministries. Which didn’t explain why one of her foster sisters hadn’t come in their place. Gemma had no sooner had the thought than Jake addressed it.

“Your sisters wanted to be here, too,” he told her.

“But?” Was it wrong to feel disappointed that her family had sent their handyman to get her, even though Jake seemed a very nice man?

“Victoria’s going through a difficult pregnancy. She struggles to deal with anything before eleven o’clock in the morning.” Jake grimaced. “Best for her to be sick at home. Adele offered to take Margaret’s place until she got an emergency request to foster two orphaned infants who’d just lost their parents. Olivia’s in hospital because yesterday she gave birth to a brand-new baby daughter. So you’re stuck with me.”

“Not stuck,” Gemma protested. “It’s very kind of you to sacrifice your time—say, what exactly is it that you do at The Haven, Jake?” It felt strange to say those words, as if she should know. But Gemma couldn’t form a mental picture of her family’s home or his work.

“I do whatever your aunts need me to do.” A muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw. “I owe them big-time for saving my life, so fulfilling their needs is my job and my pleasure.”

Saving his life.

Gemma was about to ask about that when she realized they were taking an exit off the highway. And his phone was ringing again.

“Sounds like somebody else needs you,” she said.

“Apparently.” He checked the number before letting it go to voice mail. “I don’t think it’s serious, but I’ll get some coffee and call them back. I was up very early,” he said, obviously aware of her curiosity. “How about you?”

“I don’t mind stopping.” She knew it was an excuse so he wouldn’t have to say more about his past, but that didn’t mean she intended to let the subject go.

Gemma was stymied by her reactions to him. Why did she feel so comfortable with him? What was with this keen interest in Jake? And why did she feel compelled to discover why this strong, competent man would need two elderly women to save his life?

It was natural that she had a lot of questions about herself, important knowledge like who she was, where she’d grown up, her childhood, her foster aunts and sisters, especially her husband. She couldn’t remember any of that. What kind of a woman forgot her own wedding?

But now Gemma also had growing questions about Jake Elliot. A good-looking man, he was tall, solidly built and radiated an empathetic aura of strength and confidence. Rather like a young John Wayne in a very old movie, though this handyman was definitely not old. He was probably close to her age, which was twenty-three according to her passport. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his well-fitting jeans, cotton shirt, cowboy boots and battered leather jacket, while his mussed brown hair and piercing blue eyes made him seem vibrantly alive, unlike the dull blankness that hung over her mind.

Besides all that, Jake was apparently the go-to guy for the community’s needy folks.

A strange combination to be sure, though why he should intrigue her so was a puzzle Gemma couldn’t fathom. The only thing she did know was that Jake wasn’t like her. He knew exactly who he was, where he was going and, unlike her, exactly where he belonged.

It might take time, but she was determined to discover exactly who this poised, handsome handyman was behind the friendly, self-effacing smile.

And somehow she intended to learn why he had needed saving.