Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Memories - Lois Richer - Страница 16

For the next two days, Jake stayed away from The Haven, trying to catch up with his work and hoping to give Gemma time to absorb everything in her world. But with each day that passed, his concern about her ramped up. Somebody had to do something.

Though he’d called the local doctor after Gemma had fainted, though she’d been given a thorough checkup and she had pooh-poohed his concern, he worried. She did look and sound fine, yet she seemed somehow diminished. Apparently her interest in Alexa had also lapsed because she remained silent on that issue.

“Want to check out our fishing hole this afternoon?” Jake had asked yesterday when he’d seen her sitting on the deck. He’d pointed out the spot, expecting she’d jump at the chance to resume her favorite activity.

“I just showered. I’ll get dirty scrabbling down that hill,” she’d mumbled, barely meeting his gaze. “Anyway, Adele’s a chef. She doesn’t need me to bring home supper.”

Excuses made, Gemma had resumed staring across the valley.

It seemed to Jake that she couldn’t muster the strength to move on with her life. Since Tillie and Margaret gave the impression they were perfectly content to let their foster daughter float through the days, Jake felt it was up to him to help her snap out of it. Which was why when he found Gemma in the kitchen near noon today, still swathed in her bathrobe, he discarded his white-glove treatment.

“Since you’re not busy, can you help me out?” He was relieved that his peremptory tone jarred her from her vacant stare through the massive window to the distant mountains.

“Help you out with what?” Though Gemma looked at him, her gaze was hazy, unfocused.

“With my work here at The Haven.” It was the only thing he could think of to motivate her. “I’m behind.”

“Because you took time off to come get me.” As he’d expected, Gemma immediately jerked upright. Twin dots of color appeared in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?” She sounded more like herself. “I don’t know that much about your work, or anything else for that matter. But I’ll help however I can if you’ll show me what to do.”

“For starters, get dressed. Old clothes. We’ll be working in the dirt.” Jake lifted one eyebrow when she simply sat there. “Well?”

“Dressed. Got it.” Gemma rose and strode across the room. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned. “Will you wait here, or should I find you?”

“I’m already late,” he told her in a brusque tone that he despised but used because it seemed to be shocking her out of her dazed lethargy. “Find me in the garden.”

“The garden.” She didn’t move. “Uh, the garden is...?”

He pointed.

“Right. I’ll be there in five minutes,” Gemma promised.

“Wear a sun hat,” he called after her retreating form.

“Do you think that was wise, dear?” Tillie murmured.

Jake whirled to find the aunts standing behind him, both wearing disapproving frowns. They’d obviously overheard his less than gentle tone. Jake mentally grimaced, hating that he’d caused that look of strain on their sweet faces.

“Gemma needs to be busy, to be doing something,” he explained gently. “Sitting around, waiting for her memory to return isn’t helping her.”

“What if it doesn’t return?” Margaret’s hushed tone revealed her concern.

“Ladies,” Jake chided with a smile. “Where’s your faith?” He was rewarded with their nods. “Until Gemma’s memory returns, she needs a purpose. Maybe gardening will give her that.” Did he sound more certain than he felt? “It’s better than doing nothing,” he offered belatedly.

“Yes, it is,” Tillie agreed.

“Thank you for trying to help, Jake,” Margaret added. “We’ve been afraid to push Gemma. Shame on us for our lack of faith in God.”

“It’s time we prayed about this in a different way, sister.” Tillie slipped her hand in Margaret’s arm and drew her out of the room. A moment later Gemma appeared clad in raggedy jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie and a sun hat he hadn’t seen for years.

“I thought you said you weren’t waiting,” she accused, her megawatt smile flashing. “The aunts,” she guessed. “They waylaid me, too.” She waved a piece of delicate pink notepaper.

“A Bible verse?” Jake guessed as he held the door for her to exit The Haven.

“Uh-huh.” She handed it over so he could read the spidery script.

Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.

“Psalm 139.” Jake handed back the note which Gemma folded and tucked into her back pocket.

“You know it?” She seemed surprised, yet her stride matched his and she never faltered.

“Sure, I know it.” Jake hesitated to say more, but being Gemma, he figured she’d keep pressing for the why. “It’s a good verse. I looked it up after someone said it to me once.” He glanced her way and almost smiled at her raised eyebrows. She’d always been full of questions.

“Why did they quote that verse to you?”

“It was after a funeral.” Two funerals, actually. Change the subject, Jake. “Did you think more about Kurt’s stepdaughter?”

“Alexa. I haven’t been able to think of anything else. I’m almost certain she’s the child in that picture I found in my wallet. Maybe Kurt told me about her or maybe I found out.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll never know.”

“Either one sounds plausible.” Relieved she hadn’t brushed off the orphaned child, he asked, “Are you going to apply for her guardianship?”

“Me?” She gaped at him. “What do I know about kids? I was thinking more along the lines of bringing Alexa here for a visit. I’ve been watching the kids who come. They all seem to have a wonderful time.”

“Yes.” Jake had hoped for more, hoped for Gemma to interact with the child. Maybe if her focus wasn’t on what she’d forgotten...

“You want me to weed?” Gemma stood at the fenced entrance to the garden, surveying it.

“Do you want to?” He smothered a laugh at her eager nod.

“Yes! I love weeding.” As soon as the words were out, her forehead pleated. Her expression faltered. “Don’t I?” she asked hesitantly.

“You did.” He handed her a pair of work gloves she’d left behind long ago, and grinned as she slid them onto her slender fingers. “You’ve loved weeding ever since the first time the aunts sent you out to weed as punishment for some misdeed. You were supposed to work an hour. You were here for three and I didn’t have to do it again for a week. You used to beg them to send you out to weed.” He chuckled. “I often wondered if you sometimes broke a rule or misbehaved just so you could get your fingers in the dirt.”

“Sounds like I was a brat.” Gemma knelt and with a touch born of long experience, eased a thistle out of the ground from between tender carrot shoots. “Was that why I eloped, do you think, to break a rule?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Gem. You never said.” Jake sank to his knees in the next row and began extricating the unwanted green invaders from around his beans.

Silence stretched between them, a comfortable peace The Haven always seemed to engender in him. At least it had until Gem’s return. For some reason Jake now felt like he had to keep up his guard, had to keep reminding himself of his vow to Lily.

“There’s something wonderful about weeding,” Gemma murmured more to herself than him. “It’s exciting, like you’re preparing the way for something. You can’t see exactly what’s happening, but you know the end result will be so good. We’ll have carrots.” She said it almost triumphantly.

“And peas and beans and...” Jake let it trail away, amused by the satisfaction filling her face.

“I remember once when I was in Italy—” Gemma stopped, blinked and stared at him. “I remember something!”

“Good. What is it?” He kept on weeding, waiting to hear whatever thought was emerging. Listening to Gemma speak about her travels had always fascinated him.

“I was in a garden there.” She leaned back on her heels, her gaze on some far distant place. “There were the most massive tomatoes and I was picking the best.” She stopped and grinned at him. “To make sauce for lasagna. Or rather, Mamma Francesca was teaching me how to make it. Those tomatoes were so delicious.”

“Cool,” he murmured, watching the wash of sun light up her face. Gemma was gorgeous. Then shadows filled her eyes.

“I don’t know what else happened,” she murmured. “I can’t—”

“Remember,” he finished for her and winked.

“Exactly!” Gemma exclaimed. She burst out laughing and the tense lines dissipated.

They worked together for a while in a genial silence that required no speaking. Jake had a hunch she was remembering more, but he remained quiet, loathe to interrupt.

“I must have been to Italy several times,” she eventually murmured. “In my mind I can see the Coliseum, the tower of Pisa and a spot on a mountain where there was an eruption.”

“Vesuvius,” Jake offered.

“No. Mt. Etna. Three days after Kurt and I left, there was an eruption. It was a big tour group and we were so glad we hadn’t delayed...” Gemma blinked several times, then twisted her head to look at him. “Why can’t I remember my husband, Jake?”

“You will. But you have a lot of memories tucked in that lovely head. I guess they can’t all come at once.” He kept working.

“What am I supposed to do until I do remember?” A hint of bitterness colored her voice. “That’s part of what bothers me with the whole Alexa thing. What do I have to offer her? I don’t remember how to lead a tour anymore, but even if I did, how could I travel and care for a child? Or am I supposed to stay here and freeload off the aunts until I remember my life? If I ever do, that is.”

“Gemma,” Jake scolded. “Last year your sister was injured while rock climbing. Nobody thought she was freeloading when she stayed in bed to let her leg heal. Olivia happily took over her job.”

“Victoria always did love scaling the most treacherous places,” Gemma muttered, apparently unaware that she’d identified which sister without any prompting. “But this is different. I don’t work here.”

“Maybe you could for a while,” he suggested.

“Doing what?” she asked, eyebrows arched. “Showing people around? Kind of hard since I don’t know my own way around the place.”

“You’ll figure it out. Give it some thought. I’m sure you’ll find a niche in The Haven’s ministry that only you can fill.” He paused before asking, “What will you do about Alexa?”

Gemma rose. She studied the group of kids playing dodgeball nearby in a grassy meadow. Then she considered the circle of stones they’d gathered around last evening to roast marshmallows. Lastly she surveyed the play equipment her sisters used for their own children. She remained silent for some time. When she did speak there was a hesitancy to her words that told Jake she was struggling to sort out her emotions.

“I think I’ll ask Victoria to find out if Alexa can come here for a visit.”

“That’s a great idea.” Jake hoped she wouldn’t change her mind. A lonely child could be exactly what Gemma needed to take her mind off her own problems.

“We can get to know each other. I don’t want to abandon this child whom my husband apparently cared for so deeply,” she murmured, forehead pleated. “But what if—?”

“I’ll help you,” he interrupted, wondering why he was doing this when he’d spent the past six years basically isolating himself at The Haven. Now he was going to help with some orphaned little girl he didn’t even know? Yes.

“Thank you, Jake.” Gemma’s smile somehow made it all make sense. “What will we do with her?”

“Help her join in the activities with all the other kids,” he said, glancing over her head at a group of kids now flying kites. “There’s always something to do here.”

“I suppose.” The way Gemma dragged out the word proved he’d missed the intent of her question. “I actually meant what will I do with her? What kind of things would help me get to know Alexa?”

“You were always good with kids, Gem. You’ll think of something. And you do have Kurt in common. But I’m not sure you need to plan it all out ahead of time,” he cautioned. “Maybe you wait, watch to see what she enjoys and build on that.”

“How did you get to be so smart about kids, Jake?” Gemma moved farther down the row, annihilating weeds as if driven.

“I’m not smart about kids,” he denied as the familiar surge of loss bloomed inside. I didn’t get that chance. Don’t go there. “Hey,” he challenged, desperate to change the subject. “Are you doing the corn rows or am I?”

“You take forever. I’ll do it.” She shot him a cheeky grin. “You always baby the seedlings too much. Once they’re out of your greenhouse and in the ground, they’ll toughen up. You have to be strong to live in the foothills of the Rockies.”

“So now you’re the gardener who’s giving me advice?” He relaxed, comfortable with their familiar banter. “Any suggestions you want to share about the rhubarb? Your aunts want three more plants.”

“What on earth for?” Gemma’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “It’s so sour.”

“Not when Adele mixes it with my strawberries and adds a big dollop of ice cream. What?” he demanded when she hooted with laughter.

“You can’t grow strawberries here, Jake.” She looked so alive, so vibrant, so...Gemma.

He’d forgotten she hadn’t visited last summer because she’d been escorting a group on a cruise through the Northwest Passage. So now, of course, she razed him mercilessly about trying to grow delicate strawberry plants at this elevation. Jake endured it for a little while, but with his pride at stake, he finally rose and beckoned.

“Follow me, oh doubting one,” he ordered.

Gemma had always been lousy at hiding her emotions and right now her curiosity was in control. She dusted off her grubby gloves against her dirty knees and hopped across the rows to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“Wait for it.” He led her around an outcropping of stones. “Feast your eyes on my strawberry garden, doubter.” He drew one fat red fruit off its stem and ensured it was relatively clean before setting it on her palm. “First berry of the season.”

Wide-eyed, Gemma inspected the fruit before popping it into her mouth. A flush of satisfaction filled Jake when she slowed her chewing to allow the flavors to permeate her taste buds. Her zest for life, her eagerness about everything it offered, that’s what he wanted her to recover.

“Well?” he demanded, stupidly eager to hear her opinion.

“Amazing.” Her big expansive smile did funny things to his stomach. “How did you get them to survive?”

Jake figured his explanation probably went into too much detail and droned on for too long, but Gemma seemed to listen to every word. This was the old Gem. This intense interest in life was what had first drawn him to her.

“So by packing those stones around to soak in the heat, and by raising the beds, you create a warmer, sheltered area.” She clapped her hands together. “Bravo, Monsieur Horticulturalist.”

He’d missed her enthusiasm.

“Yield?” She bent to study the way he’d laid the new runners.

“Last year was good. It’s too early to tell this year.” Funny how pleased he was by her interest. “I’m hopeful we’ll get enough for Adele to freeze for next...”

Suddenly Gemma wasn’t listening. She gazed over the valley, but Jake doubted she was seeing the meadow with its wildflowers waving in the wind. Something else was going on inside that auburn head.

“Why do I keep thinking about roses, Jake?” She turned to frown at him, green eyes dark and swirling. “Is it something to do with my past?”

He shook his head.

“Mine,” he said very quietly. Of all things, why did she have to remember that?

Eyes stretched wide, she waited for an explanation.

“I grow roses in the greenhouse.” He pushed past a tide of memories. “I experiment with them.”

“The Lilian.” Her frown deepened. “I keep hearing that name.”

“We should finish up weeding. It will soon be time for dinner.” He wanted to walk away, to ignore her question, to retreat to the silence that he should never have left.

Jake wanted to leave, but he couldn’t ignore Gem’s question, not when she was so desperate to learn about her past. Besides, The Lilian was part of her past, too.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong.” Her hand touched his fleetingly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. The Lilian was a prototype of a rose that I used to work on when you lived here before. In memory of—someone,” he substituted at the last moment.

“Which has to do with the funeral you mentioned, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.” Gemma said it so quickly that Jake figured he must have visibly reacted. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

She walked to the corn rows and began industriously weeding between stalks. Jake watched her for a few minutes, but he couldn’t stay. Mention of The Lilian had brought back his old restlessness along with a wealth of excruciatingly painful memories. He had to get out of here before they overwhelmed him and turned him into a weeping wimp.

Take them tomorrow, Jake. Don’t go today, please? What does one more day matter?

Lily’s voice.

Teeth gritted, he wheeled around and strode out of the garden enclosure, carefully latching the gate to keep out invaders before he race-walked to his small cabin. Inside he made himself a thermos of strong coffee, grabbed a couple of protein bars and changed into his hiking boots. Backpack secure and walking stick in hand, he stepped onto the trail he hiked whenever he needed to break free of his past.

When Jake reached the top of the first incline, he ignored the voice in his head and turned back. Gemma was still in the garden, but now she stood, one hand shading her eyes as she looked directly at him, motionless for several moments. Then she knelt and continued with her weeding, as if she understood that he wanted to be alone.

Wanted to be alone? No.

But that’s the way it was. Would always be. Had to be.

* * *

Gemma set the foil-covered dishes on the counter in Jake’s cabin and moved toward the door. She didn’t want to look around, didn’t want to invade his personal space when he wasn’t there. But she couldn’t help noticing how clean, how sterile everything seemed.

No pictures of loved ones. No books on side tables. Nothing left lying around. Nothing to hint at the intriguing man who’d abandoned her in the garden earlier and hadn’t yet returned.

Her fingers were reaching for the door handle when it opened.

“Hi.” Jake stood there, studying her.

“Hi. You missed dinner, so the aunts sent me over with some,” she blurted, feeling the heat singe her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not. But you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. I’m not very hungry.” He stepped inside, set his pack on the tiny table and faced her. “Thank you though.”

“It’s Adele’s lasagna and it’s amazing.” She blinked, then grinned. “You probably already know that. See you.”

Gemma scurried back to the house, feeling like a frightened rabbit. The barrenness of Jake’s quarters and his earlier reticence after she’d asked about The Lillian frightened her. Was that because subconsciously she knew that if he answered all her questions, if he was completely honest with her, she’d know for sure that she didn’t belong at The Haven?

But if she didn’t belong here, then where did she belong? Certainly not in the cheap Toronto apartment the aunts had described. Not anymore. From their description she’d figured it was a tiny place where newlyweds constantly ran into each other and enjoyed it. That romantic place belonged to another newly married Gemma.

This Gemma didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to feel even more out of place, even more distanced from the woman whom everyone but she remembered. More than that, she didn’t want to not belong anywhere else. So during dinner she’d asked her aunts how she could have her things moved without physically traveling to Toronto. Of course they had a friend who had a friend and by next week everything she and Kurt owned would supposedly arrive here at The Haven. And then what?

Her mind immediately turned to Jake. He’d help her deal with it. She didn’t know why she was so sure of that, she just knew it was true. But was it fair to ask him?

Gemma had so many questions about her rescuer and very few answers. So far Jake was the only one who’d expressly said she belonged here.

If only she could believe him.