Carbon Copy Cowboy. Arlene JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
with fluffy pillows, centered each of the side walls, one looking out over the compound, the other over the courtyard below. A small desk and an overstuffed chair in a complementary flower print comprised the only other furnishings, giving the room a clean, airy feel.
Violet returned, her arms full of clothing, the plastic bag of toiletries and the bridal veil, which she dumped on the bed. “Shorts and tops,” she announced, “and a few other essentials. The closet is through the bathroom.” She pointed to a door beside the one through which she had just entered. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you. You’ve all been very kind.”
“It’s no problem,” Violet told her in her soft drawl. “Do you mind if I ask how you came to meet my brother?”
“I’m told that he came on the accident right after it happened and called for help.”
“I see. Funny, he never mentioned that part.”
“The first time I remember seeing him was when I woke up at the clinic yesterday.” Kendra looked inward, remembering that moment. He had seemed so familiar, and yet she hadn’t known him—or anyone. “At first, I thought he must be someone connected to me personally. But then I realized that wasn’t the case.”
“It must be so awful to lose your memory,” Violet said, shaking her head. “You don’t remember your family, even?”
“No.”
“A boyfriend?”
“No one,” Kendra said solemnly.
Violet dithered for a moment before saying, “There is that bridal veil.”
Kendra closed her eyes. “I don’t remember anything about that. Jack says I was wearing it when he found me, but...” She waved a hand at her casual clothing. “That doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes any sense.”
“Well, don’t you fret about it now,” Violet advised, patting her shoulder. “We’ll pray on it, and it’ll all come back to you.”
Kendra nodded, doing her best to smile, but she couldn’t be quite so certain as Violet sounded. What if she never figured out who she was or where she belonged? What if she’d run away from an ugly past?
She shook her head, thanked Violet again and watched the other woman leave the room.
“Now you rest,” Violet said, gently closing the door behind her.
Kendra stood for a long moment, feeling so very alone.
Oh, Lord, why is this happening to me? What if my memory never returns? What will happen to me? As kind as they had been, she couldn’t expect Jack’s family to offer her shelter forever. Please return my memories to me, and please don’t let there be anything in my past to shame You or me.
She ended her prayer a few minutes later, and once again loneliness swamped her. Desperate to shake it off, she grabbed the plastic bag of toiletries and carried them into the bathroom. Creamy white with splashes of sage and coral, it offered ample storage, a small shower and a lovely tub. The closet had built-in drawers, where she stowed her borrowed clothing and the puzzling veil. Picking out a pair of soft knit shorts and a sleeveless top that could be worn as pajamas, she decided to run a tub of water and take a long, hot soak.
Finding bath salts in a pretty container on the side of the tub, she poured some into the steaming water before taking fluffy towels from a stack in the small linen cabinet. Making a note to get some rubber bands and clips for her hair, she twisted it up inside one of the towels and slid into the steaming water. A pleasant lethargy invaded her tired muscles, and she became aware of soreness in places she hadn’t realized had been strained, but she couldn’t quite seem to relax. She simply had too many questions circulating around and around in her mind.
The sun had set when she returned to the bedroom in her borrowed pjs. She sat in the window seat, staring down at the softly lit courtyard, trying not to cry. This was a beautiful place, and these were kind people, but this was not her place and these were not her people. Where did she belong? she wondered. With whom did she belong? And what if she never remembered?
Laying her head back against the wall, she whispered, “What is to become of me?”
She thought suddenly of Jack, of seeing his handsome face when she awoke at the clinic. The urge to talk to him came over her, but she shook her head, determined not to impose. She couldn’t cling to a man just because he’d been kind to her, no matter how handsome he was. Besides, Jack seemed to have enough troubles of his own. He didn’t need—or likely want—hers added to the heap. Curling into the window seat, she sighed and prepared to endure a long, lonely evening. She could only pray that it would not be a harbinger of evenings to come for the rest of her life.
* * *
The peace of early morning slowly invaded Jack’s troubled soul as he sipped from his coffee mug. The weather held a hint of fall at dawn, though he knew that the sun would blaze later in the day. Sitting in a comfortably cushioned chair beneath a spreading oak tree at the very edge of the courtyard, he let the coffee do its work and mentally went over his plans for the day.
He still hadn’t finished riding fence on the Franken Road section, and the boys had quarantined some cows that seemed to have a worm infestation. Some question existed as to the specific pest, and he needed to try to figure that out today, so he’d probably be taking a sample to the vet over in Wichita Falls. First, though, he had to feed all the animals in the barn.
Normally, Violet handled the farm, pecan grove and vegetable stand in town, Jack tended the ranch and cattle and their mother usually took care of the finances and the livestock at the compound. With Belle out of commission, however, Jack had taken over many of her duties. He wondered how much longer that would be the case. Unfortunately, when he’d called the nursing home before heading down to breakfast this morning, the charge nurse had told him that nothing had changed.
He closed his eyes, remembering with a pang the day that his mother had fallen. The argument had started at breakfast with Jack demanding to know why she objected so vociferously to answering his questions about the past. Growing up, he’d realized that other kids had fathers and grandparents, aunts, cousins...whole family trees. All he and Violet had ever had was their mother’s terse assertion that “knowing wouldn’t make any difference.”
She had ridden out to where he was working with a thermos of iced tea in an attempt to make peace, but he’d been stewing all morning that fateful day. “How,” Jack had demanded, following her back to her horse, “could knowing my father’s full name not make any difference?”
“Jack, drop this,” Belle had pleaded. “Trust me when I tell you that you’re better off not knowing.”
“How can I be better off not knowing my father or my grandparents?”
“Your grandparents are dead, Jack. You can’t blame me for not knowing them!”
“But there has to be other family,” Jack had insisted.
Belle had blown up at him then, throwing up her arms and bawling at him. “All I’ve ever done is protect and provide for you and your sister! Don’t you think that if I could give you more than I have, I would?”
“I don’t know, Mother,” Jack had responded coldly. “Would you?”
He had seen that he’d hurt her, but he’d closed his heart to her pain, determined to get some concrete answers for once.
“How dare you?” she’d breathed, gathering her reins into her hand. Sensing her distress, her grulla mare, Mouse, had shied, but Belle, an experienced horsewoman, had ignored the animal’s nervousness. “I gave up everything for you and your sister!” she’d declared. “And all you can do is complain that it isn’t enough!”
“So tell me, Mom,” Jack had harangued, “what exactly did you give up? And why?” She hadn’t answered him as she’d calmed the horse with a quiet touch. “Has it occurred to you