Twist of Fate (5 page)

“Jill, listen, Rusty told me how you felt from the get-go, and I’m thankful you decided to help anyway.” He rested his hands on her arm. Her eyes still looked like they wanted to send him straight to hell. “Regardless of what happened six years ago, believe it or not, I still care what happens to her. I think she’s in trouble, and I want to help. I want to make things right again.”

Jill backed away and raised her hands in the air. “By lying to her? Since when has that ever solved anything?”

“I’m not lying. I’m just...withholding a few details for a while. It’s for her own good, Jill.”

“She thinks she’s your wife.” Jill crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

“Hey, I tried, but no one at the hospital would listen.”

Rusty piped in from over Jill’s shoulder, “So she thinks they’re married. Heck, they probably would be if things had been different. There are worse things she could be remembering.”

“Russ,” both Sam and Jill said and scowled.

“What?” Rusty’s hands rose in the air, mocking Jill’s earlier actions. “I could be right.”

“Anyway,” Jill said on a whoosh of breath and shook her head. “Don’t you remember how your previous mistake pushed her into the arms of someone else? She’s practically remembered him. How are you going to manage that one?”

“I need some time, that’s all. Look how comfortable she is with you guys here. She remembers this, too, Jill. She needs us all.”

“You’d better know what you’re doing.”

“I think the Santini family had something to do with her accident. If so, she’s in danger. I need to hide her here until things blow over,” Sam blurted, and Jill’s expression softened. “Thanks for not saying anything out there.” He leaned in and kissed Jill’s cheek.

“That’s your job, Sam.”

“Then I can still count on you?”

“Of course you can.” Rusty interjected as he gave his wife a tight squeeze. “Can’t he?”

Jill exhaled then put her arms around both men, patting their backs. “Of course you can count on me. I’ll do whatever I can, within reason of course. Promise me you won’t delay in coming clean with her.”

“I promise. Hell, I would’ve told her immediately if the doctor hadn’t said it was important for her to stay away from stress for awhile. When I feel she can handle it, I’ll tell her.”

Chapter Three

Kate watched the taillights disappear down the driveway. The nervousness of being alone with Sam returned. With everyone at the house, there was no tension, no headaches, no flashes of memory. She’d had a wonderful time. What now? What should have been routine for her was a jumble of mixed emotions. No sooner had Sam taken the trash outside, than the phone rang. She didn’t think twice to answer it.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? This is the Hackett residence.”

There was a ‘click’ then a dial tone.

“Well that’s strange, must be a wrong number.” Kate stared at the receiver in her hand as a familiar feeling crept over her. She couldn’t place the exact memory but knew there was something about late night calls which frightened her. Frightened? That alone was odd. She’d never been scared with Sam. Placing the phone back in its cradle, she dismissed her muddled thoughts. Everything would fall into place, she needed to be patient with herself.

Kate wandered restlessly from room to room. There were items that didn’t make sense, from china stacked neatly in a hutch that she couldn’t remember choosing the patter for to heavy window treatments which weren’t her style. Then she’d come upon a picture of her and Sam and remember the exact location where it was taken. There were pieces of antique pottery and gas lanterns set about the house. She had no problem remembering those either.

Her exploring brought her to the foot of the stairs. Stairs which lead to the bedroom. Their bedroom. Thinking of sharing a bed with Sam made her tingle inside and out. The thought of his messy brown hair and five o’clock shadow had her wishing she could tangle her fingers in it. An uneasy feeling spread from the pit of her stomach to every nerve ending in her body. She knew he wasn’t a stranger, but a nagging seed of doubt emerged once more like it had on the ride home. Something was off. She placed shaking fingers on the end of the oak
banister
. Why was she so hesitant? In an instant, a detail from a memory appeared in her mind.

A flash of stairs, but they weren’t these steep wooden ones, they were spiral and metal. Someone called to her from far away. She tried to concentrate. Was it Sam? She didn’t know. Whoever it was needed her, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Ready for bed?” a deep voice asked, catapulting her back to the present.

“No.” She spun around to face him, one hand on her pounding heart. A confused look passed over Sam’s handsome features. She leaned against the railing for support and to calm her rattled nerves. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

“So yes, you’re ready for bed, or no?” A playful gleam lit his eyes.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could sleep in the same bed with this man. She wasn’t sure if she even belonged in the same house.

He’s your husband. Of course you belong with him, she tried to reassure herself.

Then why did everything feel so wrong?

“I should probably head upstairs and rest.” She took a step, noticing the bare ring-finger of her left hand, and turned to face him. “Do you have my wedding ring?” She watched his gaze fall to her hand.

“Uh, no.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “You know, it must have gotten left behind at the hospital. I’ll swing by tomorrow and pick it up.”

“Oh, okay. I can’t wait to get it back.” She absently rubbed her finger while glancing up the stairs. Turning to face Sam, she asked in a soft voice, “Are you coming?”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” He seemed to sense her hesitation, and he appeared to be as nervous as she felt. “I want to watch the news for a few minutes. Do you need any help?”

“No,” she said abruptly, then added, “I mean, no, I’m fine. Take your time.” She watched him walk away and relief washed over her. She’d have a little time, anyway, to get used to their room and the fact that he would be joining her in their bed.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she wasn’t quite sure which room was hers. There were three doors down the paneled hallway, two of which were open. Bypassing the closed door, she went to the end of the hall. Peeking through the threshold like a child, she felt for a switch. With a click, a bedside light came on, and a warm glow flooded the room.

At least she’d chosen the right room. The king-sized bed loomed before her, its blankets still ruffled from the night before, from Sam. But this wasn’t only Sam’s bed, it was hers as well. She took a deep breath. This was silly. Sam had slept here, and now she would, too.

With him.

She crept forward and sank onto the bed’s edge. It didn’t mean they had to do anything, regardless of the hormones that shot into overdrive whenever he looked at or touched her. She could do this. Again, she assured herself that everything would work out in due time.

Two dressers stood side-by-side against the wall. She crossed the room and ran her fingers over the deep, rich, wood. No flashes of memory to help her. She felt like a thief as she carefully opened each drawer to inspect its contents.

“Oh my!” She pulled out a pair of silky bikini panties that she couldn’t imagine wearing judging by the size, anyway. Upon further inspection, she found some other questionable items.

What could she have been thinking?

Maybe it had been a phase she’d gone through. On the other hand, maybe ‘trashy’ lingerie was a phase Sam had gone through. Either way, the phase must have long since passed. There was no way they would fit her now. Thank God.

She fumbled her way through a few more drawers before giving up in frustration. Everything would look better in the morning. For now she would borrow one of Sam’s T-shirts. He wouldn’t mind.

The wood and spice smell of Sam filled her senses as she slipped the worn material over her head. She hugged herself as if his shirt alone would ease her anxiousness. Burrowing deep within the downy covers, she pulled them under her chin. Her eyes scanned the enormous room. The wood plank walls, the post and beam ceiling, nothing rang a bell. She felt so alone.

Burying her head in the pillow to stifle her sobs, she rolled over to the edge of the bed and faced the window. If Sam came upstairs, she didn’t want him to know she’d been crying. He seemed so pre-occupied earlier. The last thing he needed was to know how insecure she felt.

Kate yawned as the day finally took its toll. There was so much to try to understand, so much that should be natural, yet wasn’t. She started a list of questions.

“How could we afford a Jag?” She rolled to the left.

“When was I ever a size two?” She rolled to the right.

“Why did you shave your mustache?” She yanked the covers tight while another big yawn escaped.

“What’s behind door number three?” The warmth of the bed along with the smell of Sam’s shirt lulled her to sleep, though her mind was far from resting.

**
*

Kate’s eyes darted about the dimly lit room. Her heart beat so fast she thought for sure it would rip through her chest. When the covers stirred beside her, she scrambled out of bed putting a trembling hand over her mouth to suppress a scream.

Sam’s sleeping face peeked out from under the blanket.

“What in the world?” She dropped into a nearby chair, trying to rub the grogginess from her mind. “Could I have been dreaming?” Another glance around the foreign room did nothing to calm her nerves.

Her dream had seemed so real. A man, who was definitely not Sam, seemed like he was reaching out to her. From where, she had no clue, but his intensity still stuck with her even as she became more alert. A shiver worked its way through her body as she scanned the room once more.

See? No one is there. You always did have an overactive imagination.

Standing on wobbly legs, she knew her body was too wired to go back to bed. Although Sam’s tousled mop of brown hair made for a very tempting invitation. Should she slip undetected back under the blankets and snuggle up to him? What was wrong with her? She’d been scared out of her sleep by a dream, yet had this overwhelming urge to touch the skin of the man nestled under the covers. As if of their own will, her legs propelled her forward. The moment she reached the side of the bed, she received the most spectacular view of a long, muscled leg and very firm, very bare, backside.

Kate flew back to the safety of the chair. “I am so not ready for this.”

Guilt swept over her as she sat and stared at her husband’s form. Any normal woman would be back between the sheets, waking her man up with a little foreplay. So she wasn’t normal, nothing new there. For now, she preferred to stare and fantasize about what else was under those covers. In spite of the fact that she couldn’t recall the most recent details of their life together, she couldn’t deny she wanted him. Early morning light crept through the window, casting shadows on a robe draped over the poster of the bed. Sam must have put it there. Kate chewed her lower lip, glanced toward the bed, and contemplated one last time...

You’re such a chicken.

The clock on the end table read five a.m. This was going to be a very long day. Stepping to the foot of the bed she slipped on the robe, more than ready to make an exit. “Flannel?” Kate rubbed the fabric between her fingers. “Why on earth would I have bought flannel?”

A steaming cup of espresso was precisely what she needed to clear the cobwebs. Paulie would already be awake. He would know exactly how to make it. She could almost feel the hot cup in her hands and smell the hearty aroma.

Her gaze lingered once more on the bed. She sighed and tiptoed out. At the top of the stairs, she paused before the closed door. None of the other doors were shut. Kate stole a glance over her shoulder to make sure Sam wasn’t awake, then reached for door number three.

“It’s just a room, right?” No need to be nervous.

The door was locked.

Her hand shot from the knob to her head as an intense pain coursed through her skull. She saw those smoldering eyes again, dark and beckoning just as they had in her dream. The image of jet-black, curly hair and a beard would not go away. She leaned against the wall, squinting from the pain, the locked door temporarily forgotten.

“I must be having caffeine withdrawal. I need my morning crutch.” The pain subsided to a dull throb and Kate eased herself away from the cinnamon-colored wall.

She could already taste the espresso as she padded down the stairs. All was quiet in the kitchen, so where was Paulie? Maybe he hadn’t come in yet. She hoped he would be thoughtful enough to stop at the market and pick her up something special for her first morning home.

“I hope he brings those chocolate chip muffins I love so much.” She bounced up and down on her toes, happy she’d at least remembered something. “Which means I’m on my own for a while, so where is that espresso machine?” While glancing over the bare counters, a thought struck her. “Ugh, don’t tell me it’s broken.”

She rubbed her hands together in the chill of the room. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to make do with coffee. Not a problem, I’ll make it strong.” Taking another look around, she didn’t see a coffee maker, either.

“This isn’t funny, Paulie. If you’re hiding, you can come out now.” She remained alone in the kitchen. “If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.”

She stomped her foot and crossed her arms in a pout. Her behavior was childish, but she didn’t care. She’d never claimed to be a morning person. The wood floor felt cold under her bare feet. Not only did she need coffee, but now she needed her slippers. She didn’t dare tempt fate by going back upstairs. Feeling rather embarrassed by her outburst, she started looking in the cupboards for a coffee maker.

“It’s got to be here somewhere. I can’t believe that it’s broken, too. All I’m asking for is one stinking cup of coffee.” Cupboard doors banged left and right while she searched. She thumped from door to door and became increasingly aware there wasn’t much food in the house, either.

Not that I would even know where to look. She slammed the final door as hard as she could, and slapped both hands on the counter. “Damn it.”

“What’s all the noise? Is something wrong?” Sam stood in the doorway, tying the belt to his robe and looking like a bear who’d had been awakened from his winter slumber.

“Wrong?” her voice cracked an octave. “Yes, I’d say something is most definitely wrong. There is no coffee in this house, and I really need a cup. I can’t find the coffee maker. I can’t even so much as find a stinking loaf of bread. This is my house, and I can’t seem to find a damn thing in it.” She spun to face him, yelling at the top of her voice, “Where is Paulie? I know it’s early, but he should be here by now. The big oaf is always up at the crack of dawn. I thought for sure he’d be here to make my first morning home more bearable, but noooo...Does he have the day off or something?” Kate massaged her forehead, taking a couple slow breaths, knowing her rant was about a lot more than coffee. It was about how helpless she felt over the situation she was in. Coffee was simply easier to deal with. “God, I need that coffee.”

***

Sam rubbed his neck, trying to make sense of her rambling. He thought her quite comical with her wild morning hair and eyes full of fire as she left an echo of slamming doors in her wake. Comical that is, until she brought up Paulie.

How was he going to explain this one?

Boy, he could use that cup of coffee himself with a little whiskey thrown in, but it would have to wait. He needed to nip this in the bud before things got out of control. Sure she was upset, and rightfully so. He could understand her frustration, but he had to keep her safe at any cost. Poor Kate, she’d never been in the house before, and he seriously needed to stock his shelves. Taking a cleansing breath, he guided her to their modest butcher-block table.