Читать книгу A Cowboy's Honor - Lois Richer - Страница 9

Gracie swam through the pool with smooth, easy strokes, stretching every muscle, hoping the effort would clear her mind, leave her body limp and ready to rest.

So far it was not working.

Earlier, Elizabeth had insisted her personal physician come out to the ranch, examine Dallas and contact the hospital that had cared for him in Los Angeles. Only after the doctor had certified that Dallas was physically fine had Elizabeth allowed the meeting with her sheriff friend. He’d already been in contact with the L.A. authorities who’d questioned Dallas extensively when he’d first awakened. But L.A. had little to pass on other than that he’d been found unconscious, without identification, and no one had called to inquire. The sheriff left after offering to help locate Dallas’s parents.

Gracie had decided it would be easier, and less taxing on her emotions, if they all ate dinner in the big mess hall with the rest of the staff and some of the regular students. That knocked Misty’s routine off-kilter, so it took a while to answer her many questions and get her into bed. By then Dallas had gone with Elizabeth to inspect his new quarters, and Gracie was alone in her house.

All she could think about were Dallas’s parents and how long it would take the sheriff to find them.

How long she had until her world changed again.

Now, here in the dark, with only a few yard lights glowing in the distance, and a big Texas moon overhead, Gracie could finally admit what a shock she felt.

Dallas was back.

Her entire body recognized him with a burst of longing. Her skin knew his voice. Even her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from watching him. But in her heart Gracie knew this wasn’t the man she’d loved. This wasn’t the husband who knew her thoughts before she said them, who’d shared her dreams.

Gracie had spent the past six years burying memories. She’d worked long and hard to finish her training. She was on the cusp of achieving the future she’d struggled so hard to reach.

Why was Dallas back now, when she’d finally found a safe place for Misty to grow and experience life? And worse, how long would he stay?

Not that Gracie wanted Dallas to leave. She couldn’t stop imagining his arms around her. She yearned to hear his low whispers of love once more, ached to finally have the family she’d dreamed of.

It would have been easier if she could hate Dallas, if he’d done something hurtful, deliberately abandoned her, disowned Misty. But he hadn’t. He’d simply lost his memory.

This afternoon Dallas had gone to great lengths to reassure Misty.

But he wanted more.

Gracie knew it as surely as she knew that six years ago she’d given him her heart.

That was then.

She couldn’t afford to love again.

Nights were the worst.

That’s when shadows crept out from their hideaways and ghosts from an unseen past teased.

Walking was Dallas’s preferred therapy. In L.A. he’d walked through the hottest days, through rainstorms, through the smoke from hill fires. He walked as long as his body would keep going, until he could finally collapse in sleep.

At every bus stop on the way here he’d gotten out and walked. He’d walked as hard and as fast as he could to stop the thoughts from swarming his brain. He’d walked until his body weakened and he had to hide in a corner of the bus stop coffee shop and sip tea while his limbs recouped.

Anything but dream.

Tonight was no different, except that here on the ranch, Dallas felt freer to wander. Elizabeth had said he could go almost anywhere he pleased. There would be a lot of speculation tomorrow. Curious staff would have questions. But he’d gone through that in the hospital. People soon gave up asking questions when you had no answers to give them.

Tonight he walked briskly, savoring the soft night breeze and the scents it carried. The ranch boasted a glass-walled indoor facility with hydro therapies, whirlpools, training pools—he couldn’t remember what else Misty had told him about. He passed that building, came to an outdoor pool surrounded by a fence hidden by prickly rosebushes. Not only would the thorns prevent the seeing and physically impaired from stumbling into the pool, but the heady scent of the paths differed in texture, so that footsteps made distinct sounds on each. Yet all were built to accommodate wheelchairs, crutches, canes and scooters. Sweet-scented floral borders also worked as a signal—lavender to the left, alyssum to the right. Children like Misty would soon learn independence.

Dallas chose a path that bordered the playground. He meandered through it, not bothering to examine the state-of-the-art equipment as he allowed his thoughts to roam where they wanted.

They wanted to think about Gracie.

Beautiful Gracie, who couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself relax. Surely all her fear wasn’t due solely to Misty’s situation. If only he could remember something about their past, something that would help her.

After relentlessly probing his locked brain for answers it wouldn’t release, Dallas glanced up and realized he’d walked in a circle toward Gracie’s house, this time approaching from the rear. He saw glints of pool reflections on the house, heard a lone swimmer cut through the water in a steady rhythm.

So Gracie couldn’t sleep, either.

Dallas didn’t call out, chose instead to muffle his steps on the grass beside the path. She always managed to mask her expression when she looked at him. He needed to catch her unaware, to discern what was really going on behind that beautiful facade, to see whether she hated him for coming back.

Gracie swam with the same lithe grace she did most things. Only her head was visible, her hair a slick silver helmet in the moonlight. The pool lights had been dimmed, the yard light switched off.

Dallas watched wordlessly until she finally climbed from the pool, toweled herself off.

“You don’t have to stand in the shadows, Dallas. There’s a latch on the gate at this end. You can come in if you want.”

Now he knew where Misty got her acute hearing.

“Sorry.” He let himself into her yard, shame burning his cheeks. “You must think I’m a Peeping Tom.”

“I think you probably have a thousand questions and couldn’t sleep because of them.”

“Is that your excuse?”

“I like to swim at night.” She pulled on a thick terry robe, motioned him to a chair. “I made some mint tea. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thanks.” He watched her pour steaming liquid from a thermos. “Do you swim at night a lot?”

“If I can.” She cupped the mug between her hands, studied him from behind the steam that rose from it. “I’ve always loved the water, and this is the first time I’ve had a pool in my own backyard. My days are filled, and when Misty comes home I’m busy with her. Nights seem the best.”

“Surely you have some free time?” He couldn’t accept that she’d been locked away from life for the past six years, not a beautiful woman like her.

“Misty is a full-time job.”

One he’d missed.

“Misty is five now, right?”

“Her birthday was in February.”

“Surely that’s old enough to allow you some freedom. From what I saw today, the children who use this facility are taught to become independent.”

“There is always someone watching them. Maybe you missed that.” An edge crept into Gracie’s voice, a defensiveness he hadn’t counted on. Or maybe he was the problem.

“Did I do something wrong, Gracie?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because it feels like I’m walking through a minefield.”

“It’s not you, Dallas.” Defeat weighted her shoulders, added to the dullness of her eyes. “It’s just…” She shook her head, sipped her tea. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I’m her father. Your husband.” How strange that sounded. “I want to know if I said or did something that was out of place or hurt her. Or you.”

“It’s not you, Dallas. It’s Misty. She’s blind.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I know.”

“But do you realize what that entails?” Gracie set down her cup. “I’m her security. I’m who she turns to when something’s wrong in her world. I can’t decide one afternoon that I need a time-out, and disappear.”

“You did this afternoon.”

She shook her head. “That was different. And besides, Elizabeth was here. Misty is always cared for when I work. I never leave her alone.”

“I’m sure you’re a great parent. But I’m here now. I can help.”

“You’re the problem.”

Her comment hit him squarely in the chest. She didn’t want him here.

“Fine. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, if that’s what you want.” Dallas clenched his jaw, swallowed his anger. “But I will continue to see my daughter. Now that I’ve found Misty, I’m not walking away from her.”

“I don’t want you to go!” Gracie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then you’d better explain,” he snapped, frustrated by the dead ends he kept running into. “Because I am completely lost. As usual.”

Her quick gasp, the way she huddled into her chair, her drawn miserable face struck him deeply, and his heart relented.

Dallas knelt in front of her, wrapped his hands around hers and waited for her to look at him. When she did, tears glittered on her lashes. He released one hand, lifted his fingers and brushed the wetness away, fingertips tingling at the contact with her skin.

“Gracie, I’m not trying to push you out of the way or take over. You’ve spent five years raising our child and I haven’t been here much more than five hours. I wouldn’t dream of undermining you. Why would I? You’ve done a wonderful job. She’s a daughter any man would love to call his own.”

A tremulous smile curved Gracie’s mouth briefly. “Thank you.”

He touched the damp strands that tumbled forward, pushed them away from her eyes so he could see more clearly. “I only want to share Misty with you.”

“I know.” She cupped her palm against his jaw. “I understand you want to help. But that brings its own problems.”

“Why?” Using every ounce of strength he had, Dallas resisted the urge to lay his head on her knees.

“Because Misty will want more.” Her hand pulled away from his, the other dropped from his cheek.

A keen sense of loss washed over him.

“From the time she could speak, Misty has talked about wanting a family. I try to give her everything, but I can’t give her that.” Gracie stopped, chewed her bottom lip. When she spoke again her voice had dropped. “I also can’t guarantee that you won’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.”

“Not intentionally, maybe, but when your memory comes back…” She met his gaze and did not look away. “I don’t want my daughter to suffer, Dallas.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he declared angrily, then told himself to calm down. She was a mother protecting her baby. “But nobody gets through life without some scars, Gracie.”

“I know that. Yet it’s hard to explain to a five-year-old.” A winsome smile tilted her lips up at the corners. “Awfully hard.”

“I’m sure. But your point is moot. I’m not going anywhere. And we already are a family.”

She shook her head slowly. “We were never a family,” she murmured, a note of sadness lacing her voice. “We didn’t have time.”

The words were devastating to hear.

Dallas had longed for things to be the way they had been before—when he assumed his life had been normal, had made sense. But did he even have what it would take to be a father to Misty, to one day be the kind of husband Gracie wanted, needed?

The past months had taught him many things, foremost that he was not a quitter.