Sawyer was quiet. “Good.”
“You were faithful, Sawyer. In every way. You were in love with Mia. You’ll remember that soon enough. I know it.”
“So why don’t I remember her?” he asked. “If she was the woman I was in love with—”
“Maybe because it was easy with her,” Olivia replied. “She didn’t fight with you like I did. Maybe you remember more of me because I made you so mad.”
“I thought we got along,” he said.
“We did...but I could still drive you nuts.” She shot him a grin. “Like no other.”
Most of all, she’d driven him crazy because she couldn’t be what he’d wanted. Not even if she’d tried to be. Olivia believed in God working all things together for good. She’d come to Beaut to help her own family on this trip, but maybe God had sent her to help Sawyer, too. In some mysterious way. She’d never been the wife for Sawyer, but maybe she could help him to remember the good guy he’d been. He deserved that.
That night, after the twins were asleep and the disconcertingly pretty Olivia had gone to bed, Sawyer sat in the kitchen, his elbows resting on the table. He couldn’t sleep. It was possible that he’d had coffee too late in the day. Was that a problem for him normally? He had no idea.
The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of a clock behind him on the wall.
I’m scared. I don’t know who I am.
Sawyer sent the thought out there into the unknown, and he felt a little better, somehow, for having done it.
He wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it felt familiar, putting his feelings into words...into a plea. Having his head empty of memories was a strange burden. He was flapping in the wind with nothing to nail him down. He remembered a few odd things—like that marker, or how to make coffee, or how to deal with an angry horse. He wasn’t completely helpless, exactly, but he had no people in his head, no connections beyond what he’d formed over the last couple of days. He desperately wished he could remember Mia, because while losing his wife must have been a horrible blow, the loneliness of forgetting her was deafening.
Sawyer heard boots on the step. The side door opened and Lloyd came in. The older man was dusty, and one pant leg was coated in half-dried mud. He pulled off his trucker hat and tossed it onto a peg. Without the hat, Lloyd looked softer, somehow. And a little goofier. That beaten-up hat seemed to give the man credibility.
“Fourteen new calves,” Lloyd announced.
“Yeah?” Sawyer cast about in his brain, looking for an appropriate reply. This used to be his work. This used to be second nature to him.
“Do you remember what that means?” Lloyd asked. “It’s the spring calve.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Sorry. Wish I was more help. I assume that’s a good thing—the calves.”
Maybe if Sawyer was tossed into a calving emergency, something would come back.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing.” Lloyd cast him an indulgent smile. “There’ll be more tonight, too. And tomorrow. So far so good. No complications. The ranch hands are working hard...not that I’m trying to make you feel bad.”
“I could come out with you,” Sawyer offered.
“Nah. Not yet. I can’t be keeping you out of trouble while doing my own work. Don’t worry about it. You just rest up and get better. How’s the head feeling?”
Sawyer reached up and touched the bandage. “It’s still bruised. It doesn’t ache like before, though.”
“That’s something,” Lloyd said. “You shoulda seen you drop. I thought you’d cracked a bone in that thick skull of yours.”
Sawyer chuckled. “I remembered something today. Sort of.”
“Yeah?” Lloyd stopped, fixing him with a hopeful look.
“Olivia and I went out with the girls. Lizzie got into the corral, and I knew what to do. This big, angry stallion was rearing, and I was able to get her out of there. I just...knew what to do.”
“That’s excellent.” His uncle grinned. “Do you remember the chores? What to do in the barn?”
“I—” Sawyer tried to think, push through the dark fog. “Maybe I would if I was faced with them. I don’t know... I mean—”
“It’s okay. It hasn’t been that long since the accident.” Lloyd shook his head.
“I figured out which kid was which,” Sawyer added.
“You remembered?” Lloyd asked. “The doctor said that when it starts to come back, it might happen fast—”
“Not exactly,” Sawyer admitted. “We...got them to say their names. And then I wrote their initials in permanent marker on their hands.”
“Olivia didn’t stop you?” Lloyd asked with a low laugh.
“Nope.”
“Well... I guess we’ll be clear on who’s who, then.” Lloyd shook his head. “That’s like you, though. Pragmatic. It’ll wash off eventually.”
“Yeah, but for now, I need it. Their father should at least know them apart, right?”
Lloyd looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “It’ll come back, you know. The doctors both said you’ll remember again.”
“I know,” he replied.
“So, this won’t be forever, this...this...purgatory you’re living in.” Lloyd squinted at him.
“Sure hope not,” Sawyer said. “I don’t like not knowing who I am.”
“You’re still you,” Lloyd countered. “You’re still my nephew, whether you remember all the years we worked together or not. You’re family—that’s just a fact.”
Like his girls—they were still his. His memories didn’t cement them to him...not fully, at least. There was something deeper that connected them. Blood. Or a wedding vow. Olivia had said that counted for more than feelings, and maybe she was right.
“I appreciate it,” Sawyer said, and when he looked up at the older man, he saw tears glistening in his eyes.
Lloyd cleared his throat and blinked back the emotion. “I’ll get you out working with me again, even if I have to teach you from scratch.”
“I could start now,” Sawyer said. “If I’m beginning to remember a