Reclaiming His Past. Karen KirstЧитать онлайн книгу.
messed up enough.” Shadows passed over his face. “Plus, I’m uncomfortable with the idea of not being in control of my actions.”
A stilted silence blanketed them. When he’d polished off half the contents and handed the bowl back to her, he rested his folded hands on his middle.
“I didn’t expect to wake and find you watching over me.”
The muted mischief in his eyes needled her. “That’s not what I was doing,” she huffed.
“Why don’t you tell me the true reason, then? Afraid I might swipe something of your sister’s?”
She arched a brow at him. “It’s been decided that you will remain here until you’ve recuperated.”
“I can tell you’re pleased.” Wry humor touched his mobile mouth.
He would laugh at her, would he? Her movements measured, she made a show of removing the Colt Lightning from her ankle holster. Barrel pointed to the wall, she lazily spun the full chamber. “I have no problem protecting what’s mine.” She smiled tightly. “A benefit from growing up with three competitive, slightly overbearing males.”
Her warning didn’t shock or anger him. If anything, his humor increased, joined by open admiration. “A woman who can take care of herself. I like that. So you have brothers?”
“Cousins. Their family’s property adjoins ours.”
“And you have one sister?”
“Four, actually. I’m the youngest.”
“Are you the only one still living at home?”
The question was innocent enough, yet it unleashed a rock slide of hurt and disappointment. She was the last unwed O’Malley sister. Growing up, Jessica hadn’t obsessed over boys, hadn’t daydreamed about her future husband. She’d wanted a family of her own, of course. Someday. Once she’d reached marriageable age, she’d become friendly with a few interesting men. Nothing serious had developed. She’d been content with her single life until a dashing young man from Virginia moved to town. Suddenly, love and marriage became a priority. She’d wanted it all.
She replaced her weapon. “My life’s details aren’t important. Yours are. Doc thinks you should think up a name for yourself.”
His expression altered, and she almost felt sorry she’d introduced the subject.
“Right. I suppose I do need one.” His exhale was shaky. “Nothing comes to mind.”
“You could choose something classic, like John or James. Or you could go with a decidedly Biblical name, like Hezekiah. Or Malachi.”
The softening of his mouth gave Jessica a strange feeling...something akin to satisfaction that she’d lightened his burden.
“Any more suggestions?” he said.
She strove for something unexpected. “Wiley? Fentress?”
“This is too bizarre.”
“If I were you, I’d settle on something simple. You don’t want to get too attached.”
“On the other hand, I might be saddled with this name for the rest of my life.” He absently rubbed the knot behind his ear.
“You remind me of a boy I went to school with. His name was Grant Harper.”
That startled him out of his melancholy. “I do?”
“He had the same fair coloring as you.” And the same roguish streak cloaked in innocence.
“What happened to him?” His eyes narrowed.
“Nothing dramatic. His family moved away about five years ago to be closer to his grandparents.”
He stared up at the rafters, quiet for long minutes. “Grant, huh?”
“What do you think? Can you live with it?”
“It’ll do. Just don’t expect me to answer to it right away.”
“Understood.” She rose to leave.
“Jessica?” His expression turned earnest. “You have nothing to fear from me. I won’t harm you or your mother.”
She didn’t answer. Nodding, she left him, all too aware of how convincing a person could be when the stakes were high.
* * *
He stared at the doorway his intriguing hostess had vacated rather abruptly. He wondered what or who was responsible for the guardedness in her eyes. His arrival on her doorstep couldn’t be the sole cause.
Nevertheless, she didn’t want him here.
He’d rather be anywhere but here, at the mercy of strangers, an unwelcome guest with no past and an uncertain future. His sole possessions were the clothes on his back. He had nothing with which to repay their kindness. No matter what type of man he’d been before, it galled him now to be a recipient of charity.
So he was to be called Grant. He had no strong feelings about those particular five letters. It was nice and ordinary. A simple name, Jessica had said. But it likely wasn’t the one he’d been born with.
What am I supposed to do, Lord Jesus?
His heart rate doubled. That had been a spontaneous prayer. He must be a man of faith. Wasn’t difficult to believe in a divine Creator. All a man had to do was look around and see the evidence... Someone hung the stars in the sky, molded the mountains, carved the riverbeds, imagined the vast varieties of animals into being.
He squeezed his eyes shut and offered up a plea. Heavenly Father, I’m in desperate need of Your guidance. The doctor’s not sure if I’ll ever recover my memories. I’m lost. Alone.
“Grant?”
Mrs. O’Malley approached his bedside, her eyes kind behind the spectacles.
“I hope it’s all right that I call you Grant. Jessica told me you’d settled on it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was little resemblance between her and her youngest daughter. Short and plump, the woman had liberal amounts of gray streaked through the brown hair she wore pinned into a thick bun. She was dressed conservatively in a serviceable blouse and black skirt, a ruffled apron with pockets covering the entire front. She possessed a maternal air he’d missed growing up.
Hold on a minute. How had he known that?
“Is your head paining you, son?”
He realized he’d been gripping his head. “I—I think I’ve remembered something.”
“Oh? That’s wonderful.”
Alice didn’t press him. “Nothing specific. It was just an impression.”
“Any progress, no matter how big or small, is a positive thing.” Smiling, she eased into the chair. “Doc said to tell you he’ll bring a cane when he checks on you tomorrow. You’re not to put weight on that ankle.”
“I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to stay, Mrs. O’Malley. I regret putting you out like this.”
“Call me Alice, please. You’re not a burden. The good Lord has blessed us, and we’re eager to pass those blessings on to others. We’re happy to aid you in any way we can.”
Her daughter didn’t share in that particular sentiment. “As soon as I’m able, I’ll work off my debt.” He’d show Miss Jessica O’Malley that he wasn’t a lazy, no-good excuse of a man who preyed on women’s generosity.
“Don’t worry about that. Concentrate on getting well.” Cocking her head to one side, she lifted a finger to stop her spectacles’ downward slide. “How has Jessica been treating you?”
“She’s been very attentive.”