Читать книгу My Favorite Husband - Sally Carleen - Страница 9

John made a choking sound.

“Come on, Fred,” she said to him. “Let’s help my husband, John, up off the floor, and then we can get him something for his headache.” John’s—the real John’s—eyes widened. Actually, Katie reflected, popped would be a better description.

“I can get up by myself,” Rider protested, pushing the two of them away.

John jerked his head toward the kitchen, his expression frantic.

“Okay, dear,” Katie said to Rider. “You get up by yourself, and we’ll go find some water and an aspirin for you.” She left the room with John close behind.

“Why on earth did you tell him he’s your husband?” John demanded in hushed tones as soon as she had closed the door to the living room.

“Shhh!” She led him to the far corner of the big, old—fashioned kitchen. “This is my chance,” she whispered. “I can talk to the enemy, explain the story, let him see that I’m really a good person, let him know what an injustice he’ll be doing to Nathan if he sides with my parents. If I get him in the car and on the road, I’ll have a captive audience even after he regains his memory.”

“You’re going to take him to Oklahoma with you? You can’t do that! What if somebody’s looking for him? What if he has a wife?”

“He doesn’t have on a ring, so he probably doesn’t. But what difference would that make? I don’t want to marry him. I just want to borrow him for a little while. I imagine he’d planned to go up there for the hearing anyway, so it’s not like he’ll be going out of his way because of me. And by the time we get there, he’ll be ready to help me, not my parents.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Memory loss like this is usually very temporary.”

“How temporary?”

“Could be fifteen minutes, could be twenty—four hours.”

“Twenty—four hours?”

“Maybe. It could be longer, but the point is, he could regain his memory any minute now. Maybe by the time we walk back out there. Maybe halfway across the Red River. A captive audience, yes, but a hostile one. Katie, you can’t do this!”

Katie hesitated. Everything John said was true. But the alternative was even riskier. “I don’t see that I have much choice. What do you want me to do? Go out there and tell him who he is and why he was peeking in my window and how I whacked him with a skillet, then give him back his tape recorder and let him ruin Nathan’s life?”

John ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I guess not.”

“Good. I knew I could count on you. Now first, do we need to take this creep to the emergency room? Not that I have much sympathy for him, but I’d hate to end up a murderer after all. Not to mention how inconvenient it’d be if he croaked in my car halfway to Oklahoma.”

“I don’t think he’s going to die any time soon. If you take him to emergency, they’ll check his pupils, which I already did, and tell him to take aspirin if his head continues to hurt. You do need to keep an eye on him, and if he passes out or you can’t wake him up, get him to a hospital ASAP. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Great. Now while I take him a glass of water and some aspirin, you go outside and get the tape re corder, that blasted contract and my skillet and take them with you.” Thinking about the contract with its revelations reminded her of Rider’s wallet. She pulled it from her pocket. “Put this in my glove compartment. No, wait.”

She flipped it open and thumbed through.

“Katie, you shouldn’t be going through his personal things,” John protested.

“I almost killed the man. Going through his wallet can’t be more personal than that. No pictures of a wife or kids. In case of emergency notify…Gary Rider. His father. And he lives in Austin. That’s good. Here’s my new husband’s business card with his phone number.” She picked up the telephone and dialed. After two rings, his answering machine picked up.

“This is Travis Rider. I’m not home. Leave a message.”

“He’s not married,” Katie reported, hanging up the phone. “He said, ‘I’m not home.’ If he was married, his wife would have made him say we. So that takes care of that worry.” She handed him the wallet. “Put this in my glove compartment, then load your luggage into the back seat of my car.”

“My luggage? Why do you want my luggage?”

“You’re pretty close to his size. Your clothes should fit. Can I borrow your identification, too, just in case?”

“No, you can’t borrow my identification! And you can’t have my clothes, either.”

“I only want to borrow them. You packed for a couple of days, right? So you have plenty more at home. If I’m going to convince Travis Rider he’s my husband, how am I going to explain to him why he doesn’t have any clothes here? And what’ll he do for clothes once we get up there? He can’t go to court in that outfit he’s wearing. At least, not if he switches to my side. If he won’t listen to reason, he can go naked for all I care.”

John expelled a long sigh. “All right. You can have the clothes, but not the identification.”

It was more than she’d hoped for. “Deal. I’ll figure out something on the ID if it comes up.”

“Don’t forget the ring.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Katie reached into her purse, took out the imitation—gold wedding band and slipped it onto her finger.

John shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m helping you.”

“I’ll do the same for you.”

“I know. You’ve always been there when I needed you. I just hope you never have occasion to repay this kind of a favor!”

“Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. You go on out the back door and take care of things, and I’ll get this cad a glass of water and two aspirin. And if he’s remembered who he is, I’ll pour the water over his head. With plenty of ice. It can’t hurt matters at this point.”

John. Somehow the name didn’t seem to fit, but that was what the woman—his wife—had called him. He settled on the sofa, leaning back to ease the throbbing in his head.

Why the hell couldn’t he remember who he was? The sensation of being lost in his own body was strange and awful. He couldn’t remember who he was, couldn’t remember his wife, couldn’t remember his home…and he didn’t particularly like his home now that he looked around.

The house itself was small and old while the furni ture, pictures and area rugs appeared new though inexpensive. He must not make very much money as a…well, as whatever he did. And his wife wasn’t much of a housekeeper. The place definitely had a lived—in look with its books, magazines, a pair of running shoes, a suitcase and garment bag—were they taking a trip?—a pencil and notepad…

“Here, John. Aspirin.” His wife approached, tentatively holding a glass of ice water in one hand and two white pills in the other, both at arm’s length.

Maybe she wasn’t such a good housekeeper, but he could certainly see why he’d married her. She was a looker. Short, honey—colored hair, big eyes the shade of bluebonnets, full pink lips, fair skin with a golden glow as if she spent a lot of time in the sun, thin cotton shirt outlining round breasts that would just fit in a man’s hand, and faded blue jeans wrapped snugly around a rear to match those breasts. Damn! How could a man forget a woman like that?

He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he accepted the water and the pills. “Thanks, uh, honey.” Her enormous eyes got even bigger. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he didn’t normally call her honey. But he didn’t know her name.

He tossed the aspirins into his mouth, washing them down with the cold water. The sensation of a cool liquid trickling down his throat was real and tangible and familiar in this strange, unreal, out-of-focus world.

She sat beside him. “How do you feel?”

“Weird,” he said. “But much better with you here.” He did sense some sort of connection between the two of them, but it was only a feeling. He couldn’t pull the facts out of the mist of his memory. He moved closer, wanting to strengthen that connection. “You smell good. Kind of like…uh…”

“Honeysuckle,” she supplied, inching away from him as if frightened. “You still don’t know who you are, do you?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He couldn’t blame her for being a little freaked out with the whole thing; he certainly was. “I know there’s something between us, but I still don’t remember you. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Katie Logan. Katie Logan Dunn. That’s your name. Dunn. John Dunn. We’re married. Two days ago.” She held out her left hand to show him the plain gold band. A pretty cheap—looking gold band. Was that the best he could afford?

“Katie.” He tried the name, rolling it off his tongue. “John Dunn. Katie Dunn.” Neither name rang any bells. In fact, they both sounded kind of flat to his ears. Oh, well. Most people disliked their names.

He brightened at that thought. At least he remembered generalizations. Things could be worse.

He smiled, his gaze sweeping from her shiny blond hair down the length of her slim body. “I certainly do have good taste, wife.”

She fidgeted nervously for a moment, staring at her hands in her lap, then took a deep breath. “Look, maybe we better take you to emergency and get an X ray or brain scan or something.”

“For a little bump on the head like this? No way.” He couldn’t remember any details, but he sensed that his experiences with hospitals hadn’t been pleasant. He definitely had no desire to go to one for something as minor as this injury. “Don’t worry. Like that other guy said, I’m just a little confused after the accident. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”

He reached to take her slim hand in his. Her fingers were as icy as the water he’d just drunk. Could be from carrying the glass. Or could be from concern about him. He kind of liked that.

The screen door opened. Katie jerked her hand away as the other guy—Fred, she’d called him—charged in, his face flushed. “Okay, Katie, you’re all set.”

John frowned. Was his injured mind playing more tricks? “Didn’t you go through there a few minutes ago?” He jerked his thumb toward the rear of the house.

“Back door,” Katie supplied. “He went out the back door and came in the front.”

“Why?”

“He was…putting up the ladder. The one you fell off of.”

“I fell off a ladder? At night? What was I doing on a ladder in the dark?”

“You were…” She hesitated, giving Fred a desperate look. What the hell could he have been doing on a ladder that she didn’t want to tell him about? “Rescuing the cat,” she finished. “He got stuck on the roof.”

“We have a cat?” The very thought made him want to sneeze.

“I have a cat. I had it before we got married.”

“So where is he now?”

“He ran off when you fell. But he’ll be back. You know what they say about the cat always coming back.”

He lifted a hand to the lump that was forming on his head and frowned. She sounded a little off, her words too bright, out of sync…he wasn’t sure. Something was wrong, though he couldn’t say exactly what.

Well, hell, losing his memory was wrong. What more did he want? Katie was doing the best she could. He had no reason to be suspicious of her.

Katie cast Fred a worried look. “Maybe we ought to get him to a doctor after all.”

“I may not remember my name right now, but I’m pretty sure I’m an adult male of legal age and capable of making my own decisions, and I said I don’t need to go to a doctor.” The very idea set his teeth on edge. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind. And don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here.”

Fred shrugged. “There’s not much they could do anyway. If the pain gets worse, you probably ought to see a doctor, but you seem to be doing okay.”

“Fred’s a doctor,” Katie explained. “So are you. You and Fred work together. You’re residents at Springcreek General Hospital.”

“I’m a doctor?” That surprised him. More strongly than ever, he felt an instinctive aversion to hospitals. But maybe that was why—working with sick people all the time. “Do I like being a doctor?”

“You love it,” Katie declared. “Except the long hours you put in as a resident.”

He supposed that would explain the aversion. Still…

Fred shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I need to go, Katie. I’ve got to get back on duty at the hospital.”

“Don’t worry about me,” John assured him. “I’m feeling better already.”

Katie bounced to her feet. “Great. Then we can get started. We’ve got a three—hour drive tonight, and it’s already nearly ten. Bye, Fred.”

“Bye, Katie. Bye, uh, John.” Fred left in a hurry.

“I hope he doesn’t get to work late because he stayed to take care of me.”

“He’ll be okay. Well, are you about ready to hit the road?” She stooped and picked up the suitcase and garment bag.

John rose, too, and took them from her. “Where are we going?”

“Hillsdale, Oklahoma. We’re in Dallas now. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way up there.”

He followed her out to the small blue car parked on the street in front of the house—a new car. If he was only a resident, probably with a heavy debt load, and they’d just gotten married, he could understand why they couldn’t afford the best. But why was everything so new? Hadn’t either of them had a life until re cently?

Again he had that nagging sensation that things were just a little awry, like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces forced in where they didn’t fit.

“You can throw my bags in the back seat with yours,” Katie instructed. He started toward the driver’s side, but she laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Under the circumstances, I think I’d better drive.”

He didn’t much like the idea of someone else driving, but he had to admit she was right. He nodded and tossed her bags into the back, then climbed in beside her.

Katie held her breath as she watched Rider squeez ing his big frame into the passenger seat of her car. Was she really going to be lucky enough to get away with this? If it worked, she’d know for sure Becky had sent down a guardian angel to protect her son. Any other explanation was too far out to believe.

“This car wasn’t made for people my size,” he observed, one leg still outside the door.

“I know. I bought it before we got married.”

“Where’s my car? Is it bigger?”

“Yes.” That was a safe answer. Most cars were. As to where it was, that was a good question. Parked up the block, hidden from view of her house? “It’s…it’s in the shop.”

“Oh.” He flinched as he tugged his second leg into the car, drawing the knee up fairly close to his chin.

“You’re really uncomfortable, aren’t you? Maybe you should ride in the back. Sit sideways.” Much as he deserved to be uncomfortable, she wanted him to be receptive to what she had to tell him.

“I’m okay. It’s just that I seem to have some bruises on my, uh, backside, too. I must have taken a heck of a fall.”

With only the barest trace of guilt, Katie remembered the way she’d lugged him across the ground before dropping him onto the floor. “I’ll drive fast, get there as quickly as possible.” Even in the faint glow from the streetlight, she could see the disapproval on his face. “Just kidding.” She hadn’t been, but she supposed stable people drove the speed limit. “Just relax and lean back. Everything’s under control.” For the moment.

She started the car and headed down the deserted street toward Highway 75. This was her chance. Even if he regained his memory in the next five minutes, he was now trapped with her inside a moving car.

“We’re going to a custody hearing,” she began. “For my orphaned nephew, Nathan Anderson. It’s critical that I win and not my parents.”

“Whew. We just got married and already we’re going to have a son.” He laughed nervously. “I suppose we talked about this before we got married.”

She cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Obviously, the role of father wasn’t comfortable for him. Thank goodness he wasn’t going to be Nathan’s father for real! “Oh, yes. You knew all about Nathan.”

“How old is our potential child?”

“He’s eight, and he’s a sweetie. Let me tell you the story from the beginning, so you’ll understand why this is so important.”

“Fire away. Maybe when I hear familiar stuff, my memory will start coming back.”

That might be, but she’d be willing to bet Travis Rider wasn’t familiar with anything she was about to tell him.

Katie wheeled around a corner, and Rider grunted. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Though he couldn’t have been slung around too much the way he was wedged in. “Okay,” she began. “Twenty—eight years ago, I was born to Ralph and Nadine Logan in Hillsdale, Oklahoma. My impending birth was the reason they got married. I’m not quite sure how I happened. I know they don’t believe in birth control, but I’d have sworn they didn’t believe in sex, either. Anyway, they must have lost control a couple of times because I had a sister three years later. Katherine and Rebecca, they named us, though we go by Katie and Becky. At least, she went by Becky until she died three months ago.”

Katie bit her lip. It was still hard to talk about Becky without crying. Too bad she hadn’t inherited her parents’ stoic control.

No, she corrected herself, it wasn’t too bad. She’d rather cry her eyes out than be like them.

“How’d Becky die?” Rider asked softly.

“Defective space heater. She and her husband, Darryl, died in their sleep. Nathan was spending the night with one of his friends. But I’m getting ahead of my story.”

She checked the traffic, then accelerated up the entrance ramp onto Highway 75.

“Central Expressway’s always busy,” she grumbled. “If you’ve forgotten the traffic jams on this highway, you’re really in bad shape!”

He laughed. It was a nice laugh. Without his mem ory, Travis Rider seemed to be a decent fellow. “I guess I’m in bad shape, then. I don’t remember. So tell me the rest of your story.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sure my parents loved us in their own way.” Actually, she wasn’t at all sure of that fact, but it might be true. “However, neither of them ever forgave the other or me for what happened. The humiliation of having to get married and then the arrival of a seven-month-old baby.”

“Your parents must be pretty old—fashioned. Even as little as I remember, that doesn’t matter to most people anymore.”

“My parents are old—fashioned, stern, rigid people, especially my father. And Mother goes along with anything he says. They were both determined that neither of their children would make the same mistake they made. We worked hard, studied hard, came straight home from school, had no friends, ate everything on our plates, didn’t talk at meals, or between meals for that matter, didn’t make any decisions, not even what to wear to school or how to wear our hair. We had no affection, only rules.”

She paused, wondering if she was saying the right words to make him understand the cold, lonely world she’d grown up in.

Rider laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she flashed him a quick smile.

“How did you ever get the courage to escape?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very old when I figured out that the way we lived wasn’t normal. I saw how other kids lived, and I wanted to be like that. At night, Becky and I would huddle under the covers and talk. I became pretty rebellious. As soon as I graduated from high school, I ran away from home. I promised Becky I’d make enough money to send for her.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah, kind of. I made my way to Dallas and worked as a waitress, two jobs at a time, and by the end of a year I had a tiny apartment, a car with four bald tires and no heater and a little money in the bank. But by then Becky was pregnant. How she ever managed to accomplish that while living in the same house with Mother and Father is beyond me! But she did, and she and Darryl ran away and got married and moved in with Darryl’s parents until he graduated from high school.”

“Nathan,” Rider guessed.

Katie smiled, her eyes on the yellow line of the highway, but her thoughts going back to the first time she’d seen the wrinkled red baby. “Yep. Nathan came into the world. They let Darryl and me both be there for his birth. Becky said she wouldn’t go through with it if they didn’t.” She blinked back the sudden mist that threatened her vision. “You never saw three prouder parents! All the time she was pregnant, Becky swore she’d see to it that her baby always felt loved. After he got there, it wasn’t even a matter of choice. Nobody can help but love a baby. Well, nobody but my parents.”

“Who love in their own way,” Rider reminded her.

“Yeah, well, sort of, I guess. Anyway, Becky was happy, and I decided I would be, too. I made up my mind to do everything I’d always thought about doing, to live life with no restraints and no one telling me I couldn’t do something. I got a job as a flight attendant and flew around the world for a couple of years.

That was fun. Then I spent a year in the Amazon rain forest with a study group. After that, I backpacked across Europe, went on a fossil dig in Africa, helped with a housing project for the poor in Mexico, learned to ski in Colorado and to surf in California, and anything else I took a notion to do. It was great. Whenever I got bored or started feeling hemmed in, I’d just go on to something else. And in between, I worked at odd jobs in Dallas and always managed to make time to spend with Nathan.”

“Sounds like you and Nathan are pretty tight.”

“Yeah. He kinda likes his Aunt Katie.”

“So what’s the custody deal about? Wouldn’t your sister have wanted you to have custody?”

“She and Darryl always said if anything happened to them, I should take Nathan.” Her hands gripped the steering wheel convulsively, hanging on. “But they were so young, they thought they were invulnerable. They never got around to putting it in writing. Darryl’s parents know, and they’re going to testify for me.”

“That should work, shouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. My parents are determined to get custody so they can correct the frivolous, permissive way Becky was raising their grandchild. They’re pillars of the community. My father’s a vice president at the bank and a deacon in the church. I wasn’t there when Becky and Darryl died, and my parents snatched Nathan up and filed a motion for temporary then permanent custody. Darryl’s parents heard about it in time and intervened to at least get visitation for me and for themselves.”

“Are they trying to get custody, too?”

“No, they’re testifying for me and they don’t want to muddy the waters. Anyway, they’re in their sixties, retired, and they’d never say they’re too old, but they did say they thought Nathan needed a younger parent. So my father managed to snare temporary custody, and then he refused to let me see Nathan.”

“How could he refuse if the court gave you the right?”

He really did have amnesia, she thought wryly. “Men like my father have no problem defying court orders. He didn’t bring Nathan to Becky and Darryl’s funeral, and every time I drove up there, he wouldn’t open the door. The permanent custody hearing was scheduled for sooner than 1 could have gotten a contempt motion on the docket. Tomorrow the judge decides the permanent custody. And my parents are saying my life—style shows I’m flaky, irresponsible and not stable enough to raise a child.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Rider said carefully, “but I have to admit, it doesn’t sound as if you could ever be a member of the PTA and coach the soccer team.”

Katie clenched her teeth. He might have amnesia, but he was still a jerk.

“I can do whatever it takes to make sure Nathan is happy. Since Becky and Darryl died at the same time and I was secondary beneficiary on both policies, I had enough money to buy a house.”

“So if they made you secondary beneficiary, doesn’t that prove they intended for you to take care of their son?”

“My lawyer says it shows intent, but it’s still not legal proof.” Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, squeezing the hard surface in frustration.

“They thought they were being so careful. They were worried that if they made Nathan the beneficiary, if anything happened while he was a minor, our parents might somehow get control of the money as courtappointed trustees or something.”

“If they were worried enough to take out insurance policies and think it through to that extent, why didn’t they make a will?”

“They didn’t take out the insurance policies. They both worked at the same plant, and the insurance came with the job. They thought it all out because it was right in front of them, a choice they had to make. Writing a will, finding a lawyer, getting an appointment—that’s different. That’s something you have to think about and plan, and they weren’t planning to die.” Flooring the accelerator, she swung around a car that was going entirely too slow.

Rider touched her forearm. “Easy, honey,” he said. “I don’t plan to die any time soon, either.”

“Sorry.” She raised her foot a good quarter inch, forcibly reminding herself that speed for fun was one thing, but speed to release anger wasn’t very smart. “Anyway, to continue with my respectability saga, I’d been friends with Jo—with Fred for years, and he helped me arrange to take a crash course in being a medical transcriptionist, then he helped me get a job at Springcreek General Hospital.”

“Where I’m a resident. Is that where we met?”

Katie swallowed hard and kept her eyes riveted on the road ahead. She’d become so engrossed in making Travis Rider understand and believe the truth, that telling a lie—even in a just cause and even after she’d told so many tonight—suddenly didn’t feel right.

“If not for this custody thing, I’d never have met you.” That was true enough.

“Katie…” He sounded oddly tentative. “Did we get married just for this hearing? Is this a marriage of convenience?”

“I’d never marry anyone for that kind of a reason.” In fact, she’d never actually marry anyone—give up control of her own life—for any kind of a reason. When the caseworker had admitted that being single would be a strike against her, she’d impulsively told the woman she was engaged, knowing she’d have to lie because it would never happen for real.

“I sure am glad to hear that.” Rider lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking gently with his knuckles, then letting his fingers trail lazily down her neck, over her shoulder and along her arm. To her surprise and chagrin, she didn’t flinch from his touch. Instead, she found herself enjoying it, wanting more, her breath coming a little faster as currents of electricity zigzagged through her body. The sensation was insane and wonderful. She could only compare it to the first time she’d caught the crest of a wave and surfed in to shore.

How was that possible? How could she enjoy the touch of a man who worked for her parents, a man who’d set out to ruin everything?

Travis Rider might give her the same sensations as surfing, but she suspected these feelings were a lot more dangerous.

“Where are we spending the night?” he asked.

“In the Sleepy Time Motel.” She was barely able to squeeze the words up through her throat. She’d made reservations for John—the real John—and herself. She had a sleeping bag in the trunk of the car, which John had gallantly offered to use. No problem. He was like a brother. They’d gone camping and shared the same tent before.

But this wasn’t the real John Dunn. This was a man who believed he was her husband. This was a man she feared and disliked. This was a man to whom, it seemed, she was as strongly drawn as she was to speeding around a sharp curve so fast she could feel two wheels lift off the ground.

Okay, Becky, she thought frantically, call off the angel. I got our message across. Give him back his memory. Fast. Sometime before we reach Hillsdale. And that motel.