Reclaiming His Past. Karen KirstЧитать онлайн книгу.
distinguished and a stranger to frivolity—entered the kitchen after being closeted with their visitor for more than an hour.
Jessica gave the vegetable soup a final stir, the aroma of potatoes, carrots and pungent greens causing her stomach to rumble.
“How is he?” Alice poured hot, black coffee into a blue enamel mug and carried it to him.
Depositing his scuffed medical bag on the table they used as a work space, he accepted her offering and sipped the steaming brew. “He’s a fortunate young man. If the cut had been any deeper, I would’ve had to perform surgery. Now, if we can stave off infection, he should heal without complications.”
“Poor man.” Alice twisted the plain wedding band on her fourth finger. Jessica’s pa had been gone for many years, but her mother liked the reminder of him. “We heard his suffering clear out here, didn’t we?”
Jessica clamped her lips together. His pitiful moans still echoed through her mind.
“He refused my offer of laudanum,” Doc said.
“It’s quiet now.” Jessica busied herself slicing up the corn bread, trying not to think of the agony he’d endured. For all she knew, he’d been the one to instigate the violent encounter. He could be a thief. He could’ve ambushed someone, and that person fought back.
“He eventually lost consciousness.” Silver hair gleaming in the midmorning light streaming through the kitchen window, Doc cradled the mug in his bear-paw hands.
Jessica shook her head to dislodge the image of the blond stranger in Jane’s old bed, as weak as a kitten and vulnerable.
“He claims to have lost his memory,” she said. “Do you believe him?”
“While I haven’t personally treated any patients with amnesia, I’ve read about numerous cases. Each one is slightly different. The young man has suffered head trauma, so it’s plausible.”
Her ma’s age-spotted hands rested on the chair back. “Not everyone has a hidden agenda, Jessica.”
Tired of the vague references to Lee and his perfidy, she sighed. “We know nothing about him.” Wiping the crumbs from the knife, she addressed the doctor. “Besides, it’s hardly our problem. You’ll be moving him to your residence right away, I assume.”
He grimaced. “My rooms are occupied with other patients, I’m afraid. If you’re uncomfortable with him here, I can look for another family to take him in.”
“What about his injuries?” Alice asked.
“At this point, moving him would exacerbate them.”
Jessica hugged her middle to calm her churning insides. “Ma, he could be a dangerous criminal. He could have enemies searching for him.”
“Or he could be an upstanding young man who met with an unfortunate accident. Would you turn him out on the slim chance he’s pretending to have amnesia?”
As much as she hated to admit it, her mother had a point. There was no way to know for sure. What if he was one of the good guys, and they turned him away? His further suffering would be her fault.
“Would one of your nephews be willing to spend a few nights here?” Doc shifted his weight. “Having another man around might ease your concerns.”
“They’ve got their own families.”
“Will might do it.” Her cousin Nathan’s young brother-in-law wouldn’t mind. Will Tanner was always up for an adventure, but levelheaded enough that he’d be helpful if danger presented itself.
“Good idea. I’ll go and speak to him after lunch.” Pulling serving bowls from the hutch, Alice addressed the doctor over her shoulder. “Would you care to join us, Doc?”
“Next time, perhaps. My wife’s expecting me.” Draining his mug, he gathered his bag. “I’ll come tomorrow and check on the patient. If you have any problems before then, you know where to find me.”
“Jessica, would you mind seeing Doc out while I deliver soup to our young man?”
Our young man? She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother’s never-ending well of compassion was admirable most days. Today was different.
“I’ll take it to him.” This was the perfect time to deliver a warning. He’d soon discover she’d do anything to protect her family. Past mistakes had carved lessons onto her heart that she wasn’t about to repeat.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Jessica didn’t miss her look of surprised approval. No doubt she thought Doc’s assessment had erased her misgivings.
“What are we supposed to call him?” she asked Doc. “If he’s going to remain here for any length of time, we can’t keep referring to him as the patient.”
He stroked his chin in thoughtful concentration. “I suggest you discuss the matter with him. Let him choose a name.”
Ma’s smile held a world of sympathy. “Hopefully he’ll remember his true name before long.”
Jessica wished she’d inherited a smidgen of her ma’s positive outlook.
While the pair conversed on the porch, Jessica assembled his meal.
He appeared to be asleep when she entered the room. Sliding the tray onto the bedside table, she brought a chair from the dining room and sat, prepared to be patient. She noticed Doc had cleaned up his hands. Pink and raw in places, one knuckle was busted, indicating he’d used them in the scuffle. For fending off an attacker? Or for inflicting damage?
Uncertainty waged war inside her. He didn’t look dangerous. Lying there in her sister’s old bed, he looked forlorn. In need of a helping hand. And if they didn’t help him, who would? They had ample space, food to spare, and, unlike many households in these mountains, there were no children underfoot. He’d have peace and quiet to speed his recovery.
This blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger was someone’s son. Possibly someone’s brother or cousin or even husband. If one of her loved ones was in the same predicament, she’d be begging God to keep him safe. To place him in the path of decent people.
While Jessica wasn’t pleased with her mother’s decision, offering him shelter and meeting his basic needs didn’t mean she had to suspend caution. Even before her life became entangled with Lee Cavanaugh’s, her outlook hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. Now it was positively morose. She anticipated the worst. Expected people to fail her. Or deceive her.
God was no doubt displeased with this manner of thinking, but she wasn’t sure how to undo what had been done.
He stirred, the quilt covering his lower body sliding low on his waist. His bloodied shirt had been disposed of, and a long-sleeved white cotton undershirt hugged his shoulders, sculpted chest and flat stomach. Thick padding covered his wound beneath the fabric.
The man would benefit from a bath and a shave. He wore his fair hair short on the sides, with slightly longer strands sweeping over his forehead. The brown cast of his skin indicated he worked outdoors.
“How long have I been out?”
His raspy inquiry snapped her out of her inspection. “Nearly an hour. I’ve brought you soup and some buttered bread. Do you feel up to eating?”
Hefting himself up so that the headboard supported his back, he studied the tray’s contents. “I’ll try the bread first, thanks.”
When he’d finished, she handed him the still-warm bowl. “The soup is rather strong. If it’s not to your liking, I can make a thin broth.”
“No need to go to any extra trouble.” His disconcerting gaze locked on her, he tested it. “It’s very good.”
“Did Doc give you anything for that busted lip?”
The