A Memory Worth Dying For (12 page)

“We’re fine, love. How about you? Have you seen Daniel yet? And, what do you mean you’re not at a hotel?”

“I’m staying at the house. When I got here, Gerald begged me to stay here.”

“He did
what
?”

Marti frowned and explained the situation to Sandra.

A few minutes later, Sandra’s voice blared through the phone again. “He did
what
?”

“Shh, Sandra.” Marti glanced fearfully at the men feeding hay to horses inside fences on this side of the barnyard. She stood up and stepped closer to the back of the balcony overlooking the stables below.

“You heard me. He lied when he said Daniel was dying.”

Marti explained the long conversation she had with Gerald and what he had asked her to do.

Sandra’s voice was two octaves higher than normal. “He did
what
?”

“Sandra, you’re beginning to sound like someone with a repetitive speech disorder. You heard me. Gerald wants me to pretend I’m here to paint a portrait of Daniel so he’ll realize he’s not in . . .” Marti stumbled over the word, “love . . . with Veronica.”

“How are you going to pretend you don’t know Daniel? That’ll be impossible. I saw you when you met him at the gallery; remember what a basketcase you were?”

“I know, Sandra. Hashtag: disaster.”

“There’s no way in this world anyone will believe you’ve never met him before if they see you together, especially not Daniel. And what about all the other people at the house and around the area?”

“Gerald said if I decide to stay, he’ll tell everyone to keep the secret. I don’t know how I’ll do it either, but I have to try. Gerald asked me to. He actually apologized for sending me away.”

“What about Veronica? You know she won’t keep it secret. She doesn’t want you there stealing Daniel away from her, and I don’t have to know her to know she’ll fight you with everything she’s got.”

“I know, Sandra. But, I think Gerald’s hoping Daniel will remember me immediately; then that won’t be a problem. If she does tell Daniel, it won’t be any worse than what she’s already told him. Gerald said she made up all kinds of stories about our marriage. Daniel already thinks his first wife was trouble. Hashtag: witch.”

The phone was quiet for the space of a minute. “Well, duck, it’s your decision to make, of course. If Daniel lost his memory, that means he doesn’t remember the accident either. That also means he can’t tell you what you went there to find out—what happened the day he threw you out.”

“I could always ask Gerald, but I’d rather hear it from Daniel.”

Sandra was quiet, but Marti sensed she wanted to say more. “I guess no matter what happens, it can’t be any worse than what you’ve been through already.”

“So you’re okay with it?”

“You know I’m behind whatever you decide, love.”

Marti sat down on the straight chair at the back of the balcony and dropped her head. “I know there’s no future for us. If he gets his memory back, he’ll never forgive me, and if he doesn’t, he’ll end up marrying Veronica anyway. But, if I don’t help, and they get married, I’ll never forgive myself for not trying.”

Sandra’s voice, uneasy and worried, finally came back across the phone line. “What about your stalker?”

Marti shivered and struggled to keep her voice from giving away the attack she’d had on the road.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t find me out here. You and Wade still be careful, okay?”

“We’ll be fine, Marti. If this is what you want, Wade and I are behind you one hundred percent. When you left, you went to find out why Daniel threw you out and planned to hightail it back home. Now, you’re talking about staying longer. That’s a big change of events. Make sure this is what you want to do.”

“I don’t know what I want to do, Sandra. I’m hoping Daniel’s memory will return soon. Then . . . we can talk, and he can tell me why he was so angry over an accident that was surely just an accident. Maybe I won’t be here long enough for the creep threatening me to do anything. I just want you and Wade to be careful as long as I’m here. Please?”

Sandra grunted. “Don’t worry about us, sweetie. Wade knows how to handle things. He installed a timer on your lamp above the gallery so it comes on at the usual time you have off—just as if you were here. And I think one of his men patrols outside every night.”

Marti felt guilty for misleading Sandra, but Sandra couldn’t do anything to help now.

Marti pulled at the skin on her chapped lips with her teeth. “Okay, Sandra. Thank you. I’ve been praying, and—”

“You what? Did I hear you say you’ve been praying?”

Marti smiled a thin line. “Yes, I’ve been praying. There’s something about this place that draws me closer to God. I asked Him to show me a sign . . . whether I should stay. I think your being okay with it might be what I needed to help me decide.”

Sandra’s sigh could be heard through the line. “That’s jolly good news, believe me. Thank you, Lord. I’m glad something good is coming from this.”

Marti smiled. Trust Sandra to speak her piece. “Please pray for me, Sandra. If you do, I promise, I’ll hang your next exhibit all by myself.”

Sandra laughed. “You’ve got a deal, but I got a bargain because I’ve been praying for you for a year. Listen, love, be careful, okay?”

When Marti finally hung up the phone, she shivered and rubbed her bare arms in the cool mountain air. She’d lost the stalker on the road long before she got here, so hopefully he wouldn’t be able to find her here—unless it was someone she knew. She couldn’t think of a single soul who wanted her to stay out of Texas bad enough to try and scare her away. Except maybe Veronica. No way could Daniel be involved. It had to be someone else. But Veronica? Maybe she wanted Daniel enough to go to such lengths. It could be her behind all the attacks.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Marti’s neck prickled. A feeling of being watched tingled through her already sensitive emotions. Someone was watching her. She was sure if it. The same feeling she felt in Landeville traveled the length of her spine.

The landscape around the house seemed still, but the trees swayed, hiding the barn’s open doors. As the leaves blew with the breeze, she could just make out an orange glow down by the stables.

A cigarette?

There it was again. It looked like the slow steady pull of a cigarette. She edged in behind the large curtains and closed the balcony doors, never taking her eyes from the pulsating glow. Sliding the lock into place, she checked it twice to make sure it was secure.

A chill traveled through her body as she jerked the curtains closed and peeked through them one more time. The orange glow was gone. Maybe her imagination had switched into overdrive. It could have been a ranch hand taking a break, not even looking her way. She shook her head as she turned away from the doors.

She felt a nervous tingling as she made her bed and prepared for the day. If she was going to stay, she needed to start thinking about the role she would play—a portrait artist who would paint Daniel’s portrait.

Before leaving the room, she peeked out the sliding doors one more time. Everything seemed normal, but staying in Texas might not have been her best decision.

What have I done?

TWENTY-TWO

DANIEL TOWEL-DRIED HIS HAIR.
When he heard his cell phone ringing in the other room, he ran to pick it up and punched the call button.

“Morning, Veronica.”

“Hey, darling. When are you coming home? This trip has been entirely too long.”

“I’m home. Got home late last night. The rain started the last day of the auction, and we decided to leave a day early.”

Veronica’s squeal came through the phone. “Oooo, wonderful, darling! I’m coming over as soon as I can. I told the architect to come a day early so I . . . I mean, so
we
could
get the project started. Now that you’re home, that works even better.”

“Dad said Mr. Reimes called this morning and said he couldn’t come today. He said he’ll be back in this area one day next week and he’d see us then. Something about a new barn going up over in Gale County.”

Veronica was silent for a moment. “If he wasn’t the best architect in the state, I’d consider hiring someone else. This is the second time he’s postponed.”

“Well, I guess he thinks remodeling and adding new stalls isn’t as important as building a whole new barn. I’m sure he’s thinking about his commission.”

“Obviously not enough. He has to realize this is a paying job as well. He’ll probably work half the time and still charge us enough to build a whole new barn. That’s what they all do, isn’t it?”

“Now, Nikki—”

“I told you not to call me that. You know I hate it.” Her voice was strong, but the pout she thrust into the words hid the anger. “That’s upsetting, his not coming today. I had my heart set on getting these stalls built in a hurry and moving Stripes and Narnia over to your barn as soon as possible. Since we’re spending so much time together, it’d be nice to have them close.”

Daniel waited to see if Veronica was through before he asked, “Hey, you’re bringing Chris over when you come, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so. Sometimes I think you love seeing him more than me.” Her pout could be heard over the phone. “It doesn’t matter, darling. Chris is excited to see his new ‘daddy’ anyway. I think my dad is coming too so he can evaluate the mares you bought last week. He wants to see if you chose wisely.”

Daniel’s smile slipped, and a frown deepened the lines in his face. “Funny, funny.”

“Believe me, darling, there’s nothing funny about it. You know how he is about buying mares from a new supplier.”

Daniel paced the bedroom floor, trying not to let annoyance creep into his words. “Yeah, but these are
my
choices and
my
mares—not his. It doesn’t affect him at all.”

The phone was silent for a few seconds. “If it affects me, he thinks it affects him, and it will affect me once we’re married. It’s his way of coping with his misery, darling. Let him have his fun.”

Daniel made a conscious effort to be patient. Shane Duke had been struggling with depression since his wife died last year, and Veronica seemed to use that excuse for her father’s behavior more and more lately. “All right, Veronica. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“By the way, darling, I’m bringing over a new magazine I found yesterday with perfect ideas for our wedding. Some of the decorating themes are gorgeous, and I know you’ll just love them.”

Something in the pit of Daniel’s stomach prickled, but he summoned a hint of enthusiasm.

“Okay, great. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“You love me, don’t you darling?”

“Of course.”

“And . . . you’re excited about the wedding; I can hear it in your voice. See you soon, darling.”

After Veronica hung up, Daniel stood at the window and waited for the mountains to calm his spirit. His father’s words about accepting God back into his life came into his thoughts and haunted him. It would be nice to feel God’s presence. Nothing felt right in his life. He’d love to rest in the knowledge that there was a God who loved him and was there to guide him. Not being able to remember that feeling of surrender made him uneasy about stepping closer to something he didn’t understand.

Thoughts of Chris coming over made him smile. That little kid had worked his way into Daniel’s heart. Shane’s despondency since his wife’s death made him a poor excuse for a father, but Chris always seemed to enjoy the time Daniel and Veronica spent teaching him about horses and ranch life.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and combed his fingers through his hair. Then he hooked his cell case onto his belt and picked up his wallet on the way out the door.

As he rounded the corner of his bedroom door, he glanced into the remodeled art studio. A woman stood at the open windows. Her hand covered her eyes as if she were in pain. Skidding to a stop, he glanced back around the doorway and took in the thin form of the woman with her back to him. Her auburn, shoulder-length hair blew in the slight breeze coming in the window and swirled around her face. She was not very tall and looked painfully thin. Her shoulders were rounded in sadness.

As he watched, she turned to the side, staring sadly out the tall windows. A chord of something beat in his heart. Familiarity? Was his memory returning? He studied her carefully.

No. He did not know this woman, but some kind of awareness flitted through his mind, hovering just out of reach. His neck prickled, and he reached back to rub the tickle. That flicker of awareness caught him off guard, and an uneasiness settled on his shoulders. He shook his head. The doctor said it would take time, but it was maddening—not being able to remember. As he stood watching the downcast set of her shoulders, the young woman turned and caught him staring.

TWENTY-THREE

MARTI STOOD AT THE STUDIO
windows, once again studying the distant mountain range. Suddenly she felt something touch her cheek, as if the wind had blown hair across her face. She raised her head and turned.

Daniel stood in the open doorway, looking at her.

He cleared his throat and emptied his eyes of any emotion. “You must be the artist my father hired.”

Daniel’s deep penetrating voice did funny things to Marti’s heart, and surprise rattled her already shaky resolve to remain calm and detached when she met him “for the first time.” The unexpected sight of his handsome features and damp hair in the familiar setting nearly brought her to her knees. The room around her faded into waves of shadow, and she grasped the back of the chair close to her.

How could she stay here and come into constant contact with the man whose appearance made her heart turn to jelly? And yet, even as the thought struggled to take root, Gerald’s pleading face swam before her, and she knew she would stay
.

Lord, help me.

“Are you all right?” Daniel’s voice sounded strained.

Marti nodded her head clumsily, her gaze landing everywhere but on Daniel’s eyes.

“Yes. You startled me.”

He stepped closer but stopped halfway across the room. “I thought you were supposed to be here next week.”