Mind of Her Own (4 page)

“I have to be organized and make sure I’ve done all the research.”

“So that’s why you don’t come home until late?” In the brightness of the streetlights she saw his lips tighten. “Bad subject?”

“You know it is.” He turned the volume up on the radio.

Feeling fatigued, she didn’t argue with him. She twisted the ring on her finger, and the motion felt oddly familiar. But it couldn’t mean anything. She must have worn a ring before and naturally twisted it like any woman might do.

The diamonds caught the beam from an oncoming car and flashed brilliant red. She shivered as a feeling of familiarity floated through her mind. Déjà vu? No, not possible.
It is pretty.
Maybe she’d written about a similar ring? She wouldn’t mind owning a diamond. She vowed to enjoy it until Louisa returned. Then maybe she’d buy one for herself with her next advance.

“So what are you going to tell your kids?” She posed her diamond-clad hand against the window, where the ring reflected the streetlights as they passed, occasionally sending out prisms of color.

“I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.” Collin slowed the car and turned into a fast food place. He maneuvered the van between two others. “Want to go in or eat in the car?”

The restaurant lights were bright enough for her to count the buttons on a customer’s shirt. “The lights might hurt my eyes.”

“In the car, then. What would you like?” He waited for her order, his fingers tapping on the door handle.

“Fries and a soda.”

“No chicken sandwich? I thought you were hungry.”

He had to be kidding. Animal parts? He still thought she was Louisa. “I don’t eat meat.”

Collin turned the key and silenced the engine. He sat for a moment and pressed his palm against his forehead. “You don’t eat meat?”

“Not since I was twelve and found out where hamburger comes from.” She didn’t care what Louisa ate or that she was wearing her clothes and going home with that woman’s husband. Jazz knew she didn’t eat meat and wasn’t about to start.

He lowered his hands. “What other surprises do you have for me?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. That is, if I’m your wife.”

“You’re my wife. You’re just different.”

Jazz hesitated, afraid of the answer. “Bad different?”

“Too soon to tell.”

She slumped into the seat. How did she respond to that? Why did she care? “Please don’t get me anything. I’m not hungry after all.”

Collin started the car. “Me neither. I thought maybe the kids would be in bed if we waited a bit before going home.”

“How old are they? The kids?” Jazz sensed this question would bother Collin even more, but if she was going to help him, she needed more information.

Help him?
She hadn’t even met the kids, and she was thinking about helping him?
Just for the night,
she reassured herself.
Tomorrow, all of this will be over. By then I’ll remember where I live and what Kristen’s number is.

“Tim is four, Joey five, and Madison twelve.”

“Nice names. A little middle-class boring.”

“And that is why you have a total of two close friends. Not many can stand your thoughtless blurting,”
her mother’s voice burned in her ears.

“You named them,” he shot back.

“Surely not. I would have named my children something more exciting.” Indignant, she stiffened her shoulders and arched her back in her I-am-a-famous-author pose. “Like Chantel in Prairie at Dawn,” she went on when Collin looked at her oddly. “A book that I wrote. Chantel moved west as a mail-order bride. Her new husband had three children. They didn’t like Chantel because she wasn’t their mother. Those kids were mean to her, and they played all kinds of tricks to make her look bad to Ben. In the end it all works out, though. Chantel—”

“What does this have to do with you not remembering you have kids and a husband?” Collin demanded.

“Just that this whole misunderstanding will work out. Your kids will adjust until you find your wife.” Jazz knew her voice sounded calm, but inside she wanted to scream. All she wanted to do was click her heels and go home—to her home, her life, not Louisa’s and not his. “Let’s just go and see what happens. I do have a bump on my head, so tell them I can’t remember anything right now. I’m told kids bounce back from change quite well.”

“Maybe in your world of romance, but not in mine,” Collin grumbled. He slapped on the blinker and made a sharp turn, and the abrupt motion shoved her against the door. “Sorry,” he said with a pinched grimace. “But it’s been my experience that when kids bounce, somebody always gets slammed on their way back down.”

It seemed Louisa had fallen asleep or chosen to ignore him after his last statement. He couldn’t blame her; it was harsh. Collin considered how the kids would react to her strange behavior. Madison would no doubt try to use it to her advantage by breaking rules any way she could. Tim and Joey—now those two would either embrace this new person or be afraid. He feared it would be the latter, especially in Tim’s case.

Collin slowed the car to the pace of a lost man looking for a landmark. He would have laughed at the comparison if it hadn’t rung true. He couldn’t be more lost right now.

“We’re almost home,” he whispered, not wanting to wake her just yet if she was asleep.

No answer came from her side of the van, and he didn’t attempt any more conversation.

He turned onto their street, past the Waites’ house, then the Kerns’, where he could see the television flickering through the window. Did they know how lucky they were to have a normal life?

He entered his driveway. The second-story windows were dark, and he sighed in relief. At least the boys were asleep. A quick glance at the illuminated time on the dash told him even Madison should be. Reaching above his head, he pushed a button to trigger the garage-door opener. The van lights reflected on the metal door as it slid up its tracks. The overhead fluorescent light blinked on and flooded the garage with its garish glare. He inched the van inside, careful not to snag the handle of a pink bicycle, before turning off the engine. Gently nudging Louisa’s shoulder, he woke her. She jumped, startled at his touch.

She sat with perfect posture as she glanced at her surroundings.

“Does any of this look familiar?” Collin pointed out the windshield.

Louisa shook her head. “No,” she said, her answer almost inaudible.

“Maybe the crime scene inside will jar your memory.” Collin grinned.

Her face went even whiter, and she seemed to shrink in size. “Crime scene? I thought you said I fell or something?”

“It was a joke. Are you ready to go inside?”
Nice one, Collin. She almost didn’t come home with you to begin with, and now you scare her with your sick humor.

“Not yet. Who’s watching your children?” Louisa sat statue-still with the seat belt tight against her.

“Your best friend, Laurie.” He reached across the middle console and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t tell her you lost your memory.”

Louisa jerked away from him. “Why not? Won’t it be a bit awkward when I don’t even recognize my best friend?”

“I find it a bit
awkward
that you don’t recognize
me
.” He folded his arms. Collin knew he sounded like a pouting husband, but he’d been exhausted before he found Louisa spilled on the floor unconscious, with Cleo licking her face and the kids trying to save her. Tim was crying and Madison trying to do CPR from directions in a book Joey held.

“I’m sorry, Collin. I know this is upsetting to you,” Louisa said. “It’s a nightmare for me, too. Can you even imagine waking in a strange place and being told you’re someone you’re not?”

“Not really. But I do feel like I’ve fallen into another world right along with you. If you don’t figure out who you are by morning, I’ll tell her. Trust me on this: Laurie will not notice tonight. Does that make you feel better?”

“It might be easier like that if I were Louisa, but I’m not. My headache is beating me down, and I’d rather not argue right now, so let’s do it your way.” She continued to sit motionless in the passenger seat. She made no effort to open her door.

She’s scared.
The sudden thought surprised him. Earlier she seemed full of bravado, but he realized it must have been an act. “Are you ready now?” He hoped his voice contained patience.

“I guess.”

He watched her take a deep breath, slide her hand to the handle, and pull. The door gave its creaky groan as it opened. He hustled out of the van and maneuvered around the lawn mower. He waited for her, noticing her face still held a grayish cast that caused her ocean-blue eyes to seem twice their size. “This door goes to the laundry room. It’s just off the kitchen.”

Collin wondered if she realized she had grasped his hand. He missed holding her hand and feeling like her protector. How odd that this quirk of life had Louisa reaching out through someone else inside her mind. Louisa wouldn’t have held his hand. She acted as if she didn’t need him. He could hand over his paycheck on Friday and disappear for all she seemed to care.

Did he dare hope things might be different now?

* * *

Jazz’s steps faltered at the kitchen threshold. She gazed in amazement at the expanse of white glass-fronted cabinets. Small lights beamed from underneath them, casting warm ambient light through the room. For a moment she thought she saw a swash of sparkles, the kind that follow clean sponges in commercials. She took a cautious step into the foreign territory.

Everything appeared to be in meticulous order, nothing like her home. Above the counter, white plates played bookends against yellow and blue saucers in a plate rack hanging on the wall. The surface of the kitchen island held only a bowl of glossy red apples. Had she stepped into a kitchen makeover show?

She ran her hand over the cool, gray soapstone counter as she continued the inspection. No mail resided there, no empty glasses next to the sink, nothing to show real people lived here. The door of the stainless-steel refrigerator sparkled. Not even a child’s fingerprint graced it. Footsteps on wood followed by a clicking noise caused her to glance up to see a huge dog and a woman hurtling toward her.

“You’re home! Oh, you poor thing. I always thought making dinner should be classified as hazardous.”

A mass of curls flowed around the shoulders of a woman she didn’t know. The woman enveloped Jazz into her arms for a quick hug. Jazz felt herself stiffen. She wasn’t free with hugs, at least not with people she’d never met.

“Don’t worry about a thing, dear. The kids are sleeping, even Madison. Tom said he would take the big kids to school tomorrow. Collin, you bring them to my house before you leave, and let Louisa sleep in. I’ll keep Tim until around noon. Then, Louisa, I thought we could take Cody and Tim to lunch at McDonald’s. They can play on the indoor playground while we figure out what to do next Friday night. Well, I’d better scoot home. I’m sure you’re tired.” She took a step toward the door and turned back. “Oh, I put the chicken in the fridge. I didn’t know if I should put it in the freezer, but then I thought maybe you had already taken it out of the freezer, so it wouldn’t be a good idea to put it back in.”

Laurie peered at her reflection in the stainless-steel refrigerator door and patted her wayward curls. “I must look a fright. I came right over as soon as Collin called. I’ll probably scare Tom. Be good for him; maybe he’ll notice me.” She laughed and headed for the door. “I’m out of here,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

“Thanks for coming,” Collin said as the last of her curls bounded away.

“Who was that tornado?” Jazz said.

“Laurie, your best friend.”

“Are you sure?” Jazz tried to process a friend that talkative. Her friends were introverted, always thinking about their characters or words to use that had angry alliteration.

“Positive.”

“Is she always so . . .”

“Energetic? Yes.”

She didn’t care for the way he answered her question before she finished asking it. Too much like a married couple, which they weren’t. “What’s next Friday night?”

“They’re having some kind of girls’ night out. You and a few other friends are having a sleepover at Laurie’s house.”

Jazz leaned against the counter, exhaustion overriding her concerns about the strange way her life seemed to be going. “Seriously?”

“Yep. They’ve been talking about it for weeks. Come on, stay home with me instead.” Collin grinned at her.

“I think not.” Though Collin was charming, Jazz didn’t care for the grin on his face. Didn’t he want his wife to have fun with her friends? If she was still here that night, she planned on going to Laurie’s girl party. No way would she miss this night out. Girlfriends—good ones, anyway—knew a lot about each other’s marriages. She wanted to know about the one she might be participating in. Right now Collin could tell her anything, and she would have no choice but to believe him.

“I think I’ll go. Might be fun.” She ran her hand along Cleo’s back as the dog passed by her.

“They’ll be surprised if you do.”

“Why? They asked me to come.”

“They always ask you to come, but you never do.” Collin opened one of the cabinets and retrieved a box of dog bones. He pulled one out. “Sit, Cleo.” He waited for her to obey his command and then tossed the treat to her. The dog caught it in her mouth and trotted off.

“I wonder why? Maybe your wife is too busy to go? Or you aren’t home to take care of the kids?” She yawned. Collin didn’t answer her questions. That seemed odd, but right now all she wanted was to crawl into a bed and sleep for days. She’d figure it all out tomorrow. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Our room, upstairs, first door on the left. Come on, I’ll show you.” He held his hand out to her.

Now that she stood in his house, she again wondered at the wisdom of her choice to come here with this man. She kept her hand by her side, refusing to reach out to him.

“Look, I can take you to a hotel for the night if you want.” Collin scratched his chin as if that would help his confusion.

He stood close enough for her to hear the roughness of his beard under his thumb. She took a few steps back even though he was giving her a reason to think he wouldn’t harm her.

He arched his eyebrow but didn’t mention the space she’d put between them. “The problem is, I can’t leave you there alone. I’ll have to stay with you so I can wake you every two hours.”

“Doctor’s orders—I remember.” She gave the kitchen another quick look, hoping to discover something familiar. Nothing there assured her of being in the right place.

“Maybe Laurie would stay with you? Or you can stay in their guest room? I can call her.” Collin reached for the phone on the wall.

Jazz shuddered. She’d be the first to admit she was shallow enough to jeopardize her reputation for a peaceful night. She had a feeling a night with Laurie wouldn’t include any sleep. “It’s late. I don’t think we should ask her.”

He nodded in agreement. “And you seem tired, so why not stay at least the rest of the night?”

Tired of arguing with him and with herself, she gave in, deciding to trust God to look after her. “Upstairs on the left, right?”

“Let me walk you upstairs. I want to make sure you don’t pass out or take a tumble down the stairs. You don’t need a broken arm or leg too.” Again he held his hand out to her.

This time she grasped his outstretched fingers and wound hers through his. It felt right, familiar. “You can show me the bedroom and pick up your pillow to bring back down to the couch.”

Collin let go of her hand. “My pillow is already down here, remember?”

At the release of his hand, she felt a shock of abandonment. “No. I don’t remember. I have no idea why your pillow would be downstairs, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. So leave me out of it. Don’t bother showing me upstairs. I think I know my left from my right hand, and I’ll hang on to the banister.” She didn’t want him to know how much the removal of his hand bothered her. She took a few steps forward, stopped, and straightened. She wouldn’t ask. The last few hours weighed on her. She squeezed her eyes tight against the sting of fresh tears.

“Keep walking, past the couch, and look to your right. You’ll see the stairs. They’re hidden behind this wall.” Collin tapped it with his fingers.

“Thank you—” she trailed her hand along the top of a wooden counter stool, refusing to look at him—“for not making me ask.” She crossed the wood floor, barely taking in the surroundings other than to notice the lack of clutter.

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll be up to wake you and make sure you’re doing all right a few times tonight, like the doctor said. I’ll knock, so you’ll know I’m at the door.”

“I don’t know if you should do that.” She squinted her eyes against the sudden pain that sparked in her head. Right now she couldn’t handle the thought of a strange man waking her in the middle of the night. It didn’t feel right; it felt . . . what? She poked around her gut. What did she feel? Her stomach churned. She couldn’t answer her own question.

“I won’t come in the room unless you don’t respond when I call your name. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay. How would it look if you slipped into a coma or something? I may have to go to jail for life, and then who would take care of the kids?” The tilt of his head, with his wide brown eyes and puppy-dog look, caught her heart and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re a lawyer; surely you’d find a way to get a reduced sentence.” She smiled to soften her words so he wouldn’t think she was anti-lawyer. She slid her hand up the white railing and climbed a few steps.

“Jazz?”

She stopped but didn’t turn to face him. “Yes?”

“Good night.” His voice was as soft as a summer breeze on her cheek.

“Night.” Unexpected happiness rose within her chest, and she smiled. She didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good to hear someone say that, someone male.

In the upstairs hallway, a pool of light ebbed from the first room she came to. She peeked in. A night-light in the shape of a train bathed the room in warm peach. Books were lined by size on shelves, a basketball hoop had been painted on the wood floor, and a small table decorated with a wooden train sat at the end of the bed. She shuddered at the magazine layout. Yet it was a real child’s room. The evidence lay in the bed tangled in sheets, brown hair in soft spikes across the pillow. A miniature hand dangled over the side. With great stealth she walked past, afraid to waken the boy within.

She found the master bedroom. The lack of personal belongings made her feel as if she’d stepped into a hotel room. No opened books were sprawled on the bedside table, no stray socks were on the floor, and the carpet still showed signs from a recent vacuum-cleaner attack.