“No. Why?”
“Because Doc put some chicken in the oven, then got a better dinner offer and took off. Do you want to join me?”
“Sure, why not? I have some vegetables I can make. I’ll bring them over to Doc’s and fix them there. Just give me a minute.”
As John scanned the inside of her living room, with its new pale green love seat and the matching chair upholstered in a floral print, she realized he hadn’t been inside the guesthouse before.
“You can come in, if you like, but I’ll just be a minute.” She lifted the telephone receiver she still held. “Oops, I’d better put this away first.”
“Did you want to make a call? I can take the vegetables with me, and you can come over when you’re finished.”
“Actually, the call just ended. It was the private investigator Carla hired to find me.”
“Carla?”
“My biological mother. I guess she wasn’t happy with the answer I gave her attorney a couple of weeks ago- that I didn’t want to set up a meeting just yet. She’s eager to talk to me, but I told the investigator the same thing I told her attorney. I’m stretched to the limit right now and don’t want to set a date or time.” Betsy put the receiver back in the cradle. “Wait here. It’ll just take me a minute to get the veggies.”
She went into the kitchen, picked out a ripe tomato, an onion, several zucchinis, a small package of frozen corn and some low-fat cheddar cheese.
When she returned, John was still standing on the porch. “I’m surprised you put off meeting her. If I was approached by a family member, I’d jump on it.”
Under the circumstances, she was sure that he would. But her situation was different.
As they headed outside, the sun was setting, taking away the last bit of warmth in the day.
“I’d like to meet her,” Betsy admitted, “but my life is complicated these days…” And, truthfully, she wasn’t sure when it would be any better.
A bevy of goose bumps lit on her arms, which she suspected was a result of the half-truth she’d told the investigator and had just repeated to John.
He didn’t question her comment, and she was glad that he hadn’t. The fact was, she was downright afraid to meet Carla and open up her life-and that of her parents-to a complete stranger.
How would she feel upon meeting the woman who’d given her up? How would any of them feel?
She stole another glance at John, realizing that one stranger at a time was about all she could handle, all she would risk.
But the call from Mr. Adkins had given her another idea, and she’d pondered hiring her own investigator to search for John’s roots. But at this point, she wouldn’t go that far. Still, she was eager for his memory to return. Maybe when he found his identity and remembered his past, it would settle her uneasiness about getting physically-and
As they crossed the front lawn, John pointed toward the pasture. “Do you see that palomino mare and the roan gelding grazing over there?”
“Yes, that’s Buck and Sadie. What about them?”
His steps slowed, and as he studied the horses in the pasture, a look crossed his face that she almost considered a yearning. And an appreciation for horses maybe.
“I talked to Doc about this already,” John said, “and one of these days I’m going to take the gelding for a ride. Sadie would be perfect for you, if you still want to go along.”
“That sounds like fun. But where did you learn to ride?”
He shrugged. “I…don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re from Texas,” she said. “Maybe.”
Of course that was still anyone’s guess.
“I was working with them yesterday,” John said, “and I had a… Well, I can’t exactly call it a memory, but it was a piece of one. I remember riding along an equestrian trail, enjoying a sunset and feeling the ocean breeze on my face.”
“You might have experience on a ranch.”
“It seems like it.”
“And ocean breezes would limit the states that you’re from.”
He turned to her, that sense of yearning gone. “But not nearly enough. There are a lot of states that border an ocean. And I could have been on vacation.”
So they still had nothing concrete to go on.
They continued on their way. Once inside Doc’s kitchen, Betsy checked the chicken roasting in the oven, as well as the potatoes Doc had added, deciding dinner was nearly done.
Next, she washed the vegetables, chopped them into chunks and sauteed them in olive oil with a little salt and pepper. As the veggies were starting to soften, she added grated cheese on top and covered the skillet with a lid.
“I’ll set the table,” John said. “And since Doc suggested we try the pinot grigio with dinner and put it in the refrigerator to chill, I’ll uncork the bottle.”
“That sounds nice. I can’t remember the last time I had a glass of wine with dinner.” Or when she’d had a quiet meal with a man whose smile seemed to turn her inside out.
Before long, dinner was ready, and they were both seated at Doc’s dining-room table, where John had lit a couple of tapered candles. It was a romantic touch, and she wondered why John had lit them.
Was he a romantic at heart?
Or was he just trying to provide her with a special evening?
She ought to ignore the romantic aura, but she couldn’t help appreciating it-and even basking in it.
“The chicken is really tasty,” John said. “And while I’m not usually a big fan of vegetables, these are really good.” He looked up, his gaze catching hers. Instead of the usual heart-strumming intensity in his eyes, she could see frustration on his brow.
“I keep remembering all kinds of insignificant things,” he said, “but nothing that’s actually helpful.”
“Your memory will come back to you.”
“Yeah. But when?”
Betsy rested her forearms on the table and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I wish I had the answer.”
With the truth of her statement ringing in their ears, they continued to eat and enjoy their wine in relative silence. When they finished, Betsy helped John with the dishes.
“I have next Sunday off,” she finally said. “So unless something changes and I get called in to cover someone’s shift, I’m going to have my parents over for an early dinner. Do you want to join us? I’ll be inviting Doc, too.”
“Thanks, I’d like that. But make a grocery list and let me pick up the food for you. I owe your dad a meal, and I’ll have my first paycheck by then, according to Doc. He’s insisting on paying me for fixing the truck and being his ranch hand.”
“I’m not going to let you spend your first check on groceries. Maybe next time, okay?”
He hesitated a moment, then finally said, “All right.”
Betsy really hadn’t planned to include John in activities with her family again, especially when there was so much she still didn’t know about him. But because pieces of his past had already come back to him while being on the ranch, like a familiarity with horses, she found herself thinking that being around her mom and dad might stir his memory about his own parents.
At least that’s the excuse she gave herself. But as they stood at the sink together, he lifted a handful of bubbles and blew them at her, showing her a playful side of him. She couldn’t help flicking her fingers, splattering water droplets and foam his way.
They both laughed, and she realized that her efforts to keep him at arm’s distance were failing miserably.
She was becoming emotionally involved with John, whether she wanted to or not, and she struggled with what she ought to do about it.
When they had the kitchen put back in order, she was tempted to make an excuse to stick around awhile longer. But instead, she told him she was going to go home, that she wanted to turn in early for the night.
