Rocky Mountain Memories. Lois RicherЧитать онлайн книгу.
quite easily manage a little walk across a parking lot. Right?” One auburn eyebrow arched imperiously.
“But you’ve been—right.” He stifled his objection and pointed. “I’m parked over that way.”
Gemma walked beside him, her head swiveling from right to left, taking in the sights of fully leafed trees scattered here and there, and the sound of chirping birds. “It’s summertime.” She sounded surprised.
“Late May. Springtime in North America and not quite summer in the Rockies,” he explained. “The days are much longer but remember our nights are still chilly.”
“That’s the thing—I don’t remember.” She sighed. “So many things I’ve forgotten.”
“So many things to rediscover now that you’re home.” As they reached her foster aunts’ big, roomy SUV, Jake hit the unlock button and opened her door.
His phone dinged with a text which he ignored. Someone needing his help, no doubt. The community had gotten in the habit of calling on him for aid with lots of things, but he was busy helping Gemma right now and she came first. He waited until she was comfortably seated with her backpack on the floor, before he closed her door and took his own seat.
“It’s not going to be a fast trip out of the city,” he warned.
“Rush hour in Edmonton is never fast.” Gemma blinked. “I have no idea how I know that,” she muttered. “Actually, I’m not sure about a whole lot of things. I know what they told me, but I can’t recall any personal details, like my birthday or when I started leading tour groups or—anything.”
“I can tell you a little,” Jake offered. “After you graduated from high school, you studied languages. You were always good at French in school.”
“Le printemps à Paris est le meilleur moment pour visiter,” Gemma murmured. Her eyes flared with surprise. “Uh—”
“See? Your memory is there, Gem. It just needs to wake up.” He grinned at her as they sat at a red light.
“But why do I remember that when I can’t remember my own name or where I live?” She sounded irritated. “Or these aunts you mentioned. Or the sisters. Or this haven place.”
“You’ll love The Haven. It’s a big old stone manor house perched on the top of a hill with the most wonderful view of the valley and in the distance, the Rockies. It’s surrounded by untouched forest.” He felt the intensity of her focus on him. “That’s what makes it such a perfect place for your aunts’ ministries.”
“Ministries?” She blinked. “Like they lead a church there or something?”
“No.” Jake chuckled. “The ladies have faith—very strong faith—in God. They spent years as missionaries in Africa. Now they’re using their home and land as a place for troubled foster kids to come for respite. Your sisters run the programs for them.”
“How old are these aunts?” Gemma asked.
“Seventy-six, but you’d never know it. They are very active and extremely involved in their community. I doubt Tillie and Margaret Spenser will ever truly retire because they love helping people.” Jake paused before adding, “I should know. They saved my life.”
“I’d like to hear that story.” Gemma pressed back against the seat, as if she was finally comfortable with him.
“Maybe some other time,” he said, trying to gird himself for adding to her pain. “First there’s something I need to discuss with you.”
* * *
The serious note in Jake’s voice warned Gemma that whatever he wanted to talk about would not be pleasant. Internal warning signs flared. She was so weary of bracing herself for the unknown. Yet what alternative did she have?
Just then Jake’s phone rang. She waited while he answered it.
“Hey, Marv,” he said after pressing a button on the dashboard.
“Hate to bother you, Jake, but I’m at Gerda Brown’s place, trying to fix her water heater. Except it can’t be done. The thing’s finished and she can’t afford a new one. I already used the spare one you found at O’Shea’s place for someone else last month. Any ideas?”
“I’m tied up at the moment, Marv. Why don’t you go pick up one at the hardware store? Put it on my tab. I’ll figure it out later.” After a few moments he ended the call. “Sorry about that.”
“You’re buying a water heater for somebody who can’t afford one?” When he nodded, she asked, “Why?”
“Because they need it.” He shrugged his wide shoulders as if it didn’t matter. “Anyway, as I was saying. I need to tell you—” His phone rang again and then a third time. His lips pursed but he didn’t answer either call. When Gemma tilted an eyebrow at him, his face reddened and he muttered, “They can wait till I get back.”
She giggled when the phone rang again. “Maybe not.”
“It’s from three different callers. Probably three different issues.” Jake sounded impatient. She guessed he wanted to say whatever was on his mind.
“I’m listening.” She shifted when he didn’t immediately speak. “Tell me what you need to, Jake.”
“It’s sad news, actually.” He licked his lips and then pressed them together. “You were married, Gem. To Kurt Andrews. You eloped about eight months ago.”
The way he said it, in short staccato bursts, revealed his distress in telling her. But she didn’t feel distressed. She felt...empty? The yawning unknown threatened to overwhelm her until she looked at Jake, and some part of her brain calmed. He was a nice guy who bought water heaters for needy women. He’d probably been pressed into duty on her behalf, though he obviously wasn’t comfortable with explaining this. She touched his arm.
“Just tell me,” she murmured. “Then I can deal with it.”
“Kurt was killed in the earthquake.” Jake huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Gem. I don’t have any details. Celia only told me that the embassy is certain he did not survive.”
“Oh.” Gemma frowned. It didn’t feel as if they were talking about anyone she knew, let alone a husband. What did it mean? “Does his family know? Will I have to tell them?”
“You are his family, Gem. His parents died in a car accident just after you were married.” Free of the crush of traffic and now on the divided highway, Jake accelerated.
“No siblings?” Gemma mused, struggling to sort through her building questions.
“You are Kurt’s only remaining family.” Jake frowned when she didn’t immediately respond. “Are you all right?”
“Actually, no.” Gemma couldn’t control her burst of irritation. “I was married less than a year to a man I loved?” She glanced at Jake, relieved to see his firm nod. “I was his wife, yet I feel blank. I’m sad that he died, of course, but it doesn’t feel personal. Isn’t that shameful?”
“No. It’s part of your injury. Truthfully, I’m sort of relieved you don’t remember him yet,” Jake said, a hint of sternness coloring his voice. He looked embarrassed by his admission.
“You are? Why?” Gemma’s curiosity about this unusual man grew.
“Because you’re going to need your strength to deal with your living family,” he told her, his voice very gentle. “Mourning will come later.”
“Did you know Kurt?” Gemma sensed something in Jake’s responses that didn’t jibe with her impression of him as open and honest. It felt like he was hiding something.
“I knew Kurt the same length of time as I’ve known you. He was a local, born and raised in Chokecherry Hollow, that’s the town near your foster