The Stranger She Married

Chapter Three

H ours later, under the dark canopy of a June night, Rachel was still distracted by the thought of Matthew’s kiss.

As she peered out the kitchen window at the covered, candle-lit dining terrace where her dinner guests were seated, her gaze fell directly on him. In order to greet his siblings during dinner, he’d showered and changed into a fresh set of jeans and a plaid shirt. She’d even convinced him to take off the hat. It’d been a battle, but well worth it, she thought, as the breeze ruffled his dark hair, making his cowlick stand at attention.

A flush burned down her body. He looked like a kid, as gosh-golly full of humor as he’d been during college, when they’d first met with all the bang of a starry-eyed first love. She’d been three years younger than he was, a freshman, light-years more naive, thinking he was the moon and sun all wrapped into one.

Even though they’d gotten married shortly after her graduation, Rachel’s adoration of him had lasted for years. It’d outlived their honeymoon, outlived her usefulness.

Tamela scampered into the kitchen, carrying an empty water pitcher. “Where’d you go, Mommy?”

Rachel straightened, taking the pitcher and setting it on the counter. She glanced away from the window, away from her husband. “I’m going to serve dessert. Strawberries over ladyfingers.”

Rachel waited for the little girl to stop bouncing on her heels before handing her the first dish.

She smiled at her daughter. “Serve the guests before anyone else.”

“Is Daddy a guest?”

Zing. Rachel didn’t even know the answer to this one. “Um, he’s the reason we’re celebrating. Sure, he can have the first one.”

Tamela lingered, now swiveling back and forth, making her maroon jumper flare at the knees, making Rachel nervous about her daughter dropping the crystal, shattering it all over the floor.

Tamela gave a saucy little whistle for attention.

In spite of her angst, Rachel held back an exasperated grin. “Yes, Tam?”

“How long is Daddy staying?”

“Oh. Well. We haven’t discussed that yet.” Rachel nodded to the crowd outside. “Time to serve, honey.”

“Is he going on another vacation? Will he find his memory this time?” Tamela wrinkled her nose. “What does he think with right now if he doesn’t have all of his brain?”

Rachel wondered what her husband had been thinking with when he’d left her for New Orleans, but she didn’t mention it. “It’s complicated. Not much is understood about amnesia. It’s different for different people.”

Tamela nodded. “I sure wish he’d find his memory. He used to bring me those stuffed teddy bears. I’d really like some more of those.”

As if on cue, private detective Chloe Lister and Lacey Vedae, Matthew’s stepsister, entered the kitchen just in time to spare Rachel from Tamela’s inquisition.

Lacey took the dish from the young girl. She was a petite woman in her late twenties, all eyes and lips. When folks around Kane’s Crossing talked about the “strange one” in the Shane family, Lacey’s name always tipped their tongues. She had a propensity to change images at whim—much like Madonna and her sense of chameleon-restless style. Everyone attributed Lacey’s eccentricities to her time in “that home for disturbed girls.” Her life was just one more item on Kane’s Crossing’s gossip list.

This month, she’d adapted a Laura Ashley exterior, her dress flowered, her neck-length dark hair breezy. “My brothers are absolutely dying for some sweets. We need to feed the creatures.”

“It’s coming,” said Rachel, topping off another batch of strawberries with homemade whipped cream.

Chloe Lister stepped farther into the room. “You need more help, Ms. Shane?”

As Rachel handed another full dish to Lacey, it slipped out of her hands, crashing to the floor. Rachel shook her head, trying to keep her cool. “Great. That’s just wonderful.”

And suddenly, with that one last irritating straw, it was all too much for Rachel. She bent down to clean the mess, and tears clouded her vision.

“Mommy?”

Rachel didn’t move, merely held a hand over her eyes. Two long years of waiting. Two long years of lost hope with no answers, even with the return of the man she’d married.

She’d held up pretty well until now.

Lacey’s voice floated over the room. “Tamela, why don’t you go ahead and serve the men? Leave us with your mom a moment.”

As the girl’s footsteps faded away, Rachel felt a hand on her shoulder, comforting, calming. A sob heaved through her, embarrassing her. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” asked Lacey.

Rachel looked up, seeing her sister-in-law, her hand wiping away a tear from her cheek. Chloe shut the door, every inch the calm-blooded career woman. Rachel wouldn’t have been surprised if the detective could stand her ground beneath the attack of a steaming stampede of rhinos, never batting an eyelash.

Rachel said, “I’m sorry for breaking down like this. It seems I can handle everyone else’s problems, but when it comes to my own, I’m useless.”

Lacey laughed. “Nonsense. I’m just surprised this minibreakdown didn’t happen sooner. See, that’s what you get for thumbing your nose at my offer to help with money for this farm. Even Meg Cassidy, your best friend, for heaven’s sake, wanted to help.”

“It would be humiliating to take your money, Lacey.”

“Have it your way, trooper.” Lacey rubbed a hand along Rachel’s back. “It can’t be easy with this amnesia deal. I almost didn’t believe Matthew when he came out with that whopper.”

Chloe spoke up. “You can never tell. Ms. Shane, if you need me to look into it more, I can. And you can defer payment for a while—”

“Thank you, but no.” Rachel took a deep breath. A woman couldn’t ask for much more than good friends, and Rachel had a whole stockpile of them right here in Kane’s Crossing. How could she think of going back to New York, giving up on the farm, giving up on the people who cared?

Her mother used to take advantage of loved ones’ feelings, choosing to consider herself the center of the universe instead of extending the same courtesy to others. Rachel would never, ever turn out to be a carbon copy.

Lacey helped her up, to the sink, then turned on the faucet. Rachel splashed some cold water over her eyes, her cheeks. There. A little relief.

Her friend said, “I hope my rascal of a brother has grown up, has changed into the husband he was always capable of being.”

“Things were fine,” said Rachel, wishing Lacey wasn’t quite so astute. Were their dinner-party appearances so strained, so obviously frayed? How many people had noticed the way they rarely spent weekends together? She tried to pretend her heart wasn’t breaking apart at the thought of her shattered marital wishes. Just before Matthew had left, their union had faded like the colors of an old wedding cake decoration.

“Uh-huh, absolutely, things were fine,” said Lacey. Chloe shifted in the corner, probably wishing she could go outside to do more digging into Matthew’s mysteries.

Lacey continued. “You know that men never change, right, Rachel? They just go on and on until somebody puts the screws to them. Well, maybe somebody did a little body work on Matthew down in New Orleans. Maybe somebody did you a favor.”

Rachel wanted to ask, But what if this new Matthew changes back into the old one? The one who fell out of love with me?

But she didn’t. She kept her tongue, hoping Lacey was right about the new man. Wishing that this Matthew Shane could see how much she’d always wanted to win back his love.

Outside, night creatures buzzed and chirped with the deepening shade of the sky. The evening felt like the tepid breath of a watcher, keeping time over the world.

Matt sat by himself and finished the last of his dessert, hardly tasting the summer fruit. He wanted Rachel out here, not hiding in the kitchen as if she wanted no part of him.

He’d sneaked a few peeks at the window, just to see what was keeping her. Lacey and Chloe had gone inside, probably attacking Rachel with girl talk.

Damn. Why couldn’t the only person whom he felt halfway familiar with be here, keeping him anchored, sane? He hadn’t even remembered his brother and stepsister, and that had made dinner even more awkward.

Matt cast one last glance at the kitchen, then stood, walking away from the house. After ambling around a few minutes, he reached a cool expanse of grass overlooking the white-fenced pond. The sky was purple, graced with streaks of faint star white.

He didn’t realize that someone had been following him until he heard a deep voice break the silence.

“The old man wouldn’t believe a word you’ve said about amnesia.”

He turned around to see a tall, dark shape. There was a scraping sound, followed by the flare of a match. Faint light skidded over the face of Matt’s brother, Rick, emphasizing the hidden darkness in the younger man’s gaze.

Rick noticed Matt’s scrutiny. “Cigar?”

“No, thanks.” God, shouldn’t he feel at ease with his own little brother? Shouldn’t there have been memories or some kind of emotional pull to ground him? All Matt knew was that Rick flew planes and generally holed himself up in a cabin just off Lacey’s wooded property.

There was nothing else Matt knew about his own flesh and blood.

Rick cocked an eyebrow in the star-palled light. Not for the first time, Matt noticed that his brother’s hair was the same deep chocolate shade, though Rick wore it a bit longer, scruffier.

The siblings watched the night together, and Matt was positive that they didn’t have a damned thing to say. Rick hadn’t uttered more than ten words tonight, hadn’t even shown much emotion when he welcomed his big brother home.

And then there was his stepsister, Lacey. After jumping into his arms and hugging him near to death, she’d come right out and told him not to worry, that she wasn’t as crazy as Kane’s Crossing made her out to be.

But who was worried?

Rick blew a plume of smoke in the air. The scent of brandy and shaded alley corners overcame Matt, making him think of laced grillwork, neon-lit bar signs shining over midnight streets. New Orleans, the place of his rebirth.

Rick said, “Dad would’ve questioned you up and down about this amnesia, thought you had some angle.”

Was he accusing him of something? Matt turned to him, his dander up. “Let me guess. We don’t have a very good relationship, do we?”

A grim smile flickered over his brother’s lips. “Not after the way you’ve treated your family the past couple of years. And I don’t give much credence to this tragic amnesia story, either.”

Before either of them could fire another verbal shot, the roar of a souped-up engine cut the air, followed by jubilant shouts and horn blasts. Both Matt and Rick turned to the commotion.

A cherry-red Camaro zoomed up their drive. A man dangled out of the passenger-door window, waving a ball cap.

“Mattie!”

Rick asked, “You still have questions about your past, Matt?”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the approaching spectacle. “What the hell do you think?”

Rick chuckled and started sauntering away. He said, over his shoulder, “You’re about to get some answers.”

And without even a good-night, Rick left.

Matt started to wonder if he should’ve just stayed in Texas, training horses under his adopted “Matt Jones” name.

As the sports car squealed to a stop outside his home, three bodies tumbled out.

“Mattie!” they all cried in chorus.

He knew he’d regret this, but he approached the car anyway.

Two burly men, attired in tobacco-stained T-shirts, grimy jeans and tractor-logo ball caps flanked a person whom Matt first thought was a young boy. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the third party was actually a tiny woman dressed in tomboy clothing.

“Yee-haw!” cried the female, as she launched herself on Matt. Whiskey fumes washed over his senses as she wrapped her legs around him, smacking a kiss on his cheek.

The other males hefted some liquor bottles out of the car. One said, “We heard ya come back, Mattie! See, I told ya, Sonny, all them rumors are true.”

Without missing a beat, the bigger man—Sonny?—stumbled from the driver’s side of the car to Matt.

“Aw, lookie here, Junior. Mattie finally decided to throw away them hoity-toity business scrubs. Is your neck red, partner?” He slapped Matt on the back, almost knocking him over with the weight of the wild girl hanging all over him.

Matt tried to laugh off this ridiculous situation. Surely the old Matthew didn’t spend time with these people. “Listen, you all. I’m not sure—”

“Duh, Mattie,” said the girl who’d, by now, jumped off of him and grabbed the liquor bottle from Sonny. “It’s us. Remember?”

They must have seen the fill-in-the-blank of his gaze.

Laughter echoed through the night. Sonny knocked on Matt’s head. “Hello in there? Can you believe this, you all? He’s ignoring us!”

Matt’s hackles rose. This was a nightmare. Or a joke. Yeah, that’s it. Rachel had sicced these clowns on him in payment for over two years of her own personal hell.

“All right, you’re the Kane’s Crossing welcoming committee.” He stopped there, noting the trio’s miffed expressions.

The girl hung on his arm. “Come on, Mattie. Now that I’m back from Tennessee, we’re here to catch you up on all those drinking days you’ve lost. Farmer Fred’s got a bonfire going tonight. And there’s a keg there.”

“And college girls,” said Junior.

A swift kick from the girl clamped Junior’s mouth shut. Both Sonny and she muttered, “Damn, Junior.”

Matt was starting to get a really bad feeling about this. “Maybe I need to explain something to you all.”

Rachel’s voice interrupted him. “Junior, Sonny, Mitzi? I thought we’d come to an agreement about this before.”

Matt watched his wife emerge from the house. Watched the way her summer dress flowed around her slim body, clinging to the curves of her waist and breasts. As she patiently waited for Junior and Sonny to remove their caps and lower their heads, something primal and unexplainable shot to life in his soul. Something he’d been missing for years.

Mitzi wasn’t having any of this respect stuff. “Aw, come on. If Mattie stays home, you’ll make him boring. Just like you.”

Matt thought boring sounded like a great idea.

Rachel merely sighed, and Matt caught on to her game. A sheriff’s Bronco had stealthily pulled up their driveway, sirens and lights off. As a law enforcement officer stepped on to the pavement, the party crashers tried to hide their liquor.

The towering, football-shouldered sheriff came to stand behind Junior and Sonny. His gaze took in Matt before settling on Rachel. “Evening, Rachel.”

“Hi, Sam. Back from your honeymoon, I take it?”

Sam. Sam Reno.

Matt’s anger at himself burned. Why did he know this name, this insignificant detail?

Rachel still seemed calm, but she was bunching her dress with a fist. She added, “We seem to have a problem here.”

Sam glanced at Matt again, and he could feel himself bristling. Was he—the husband—the reason for Rachel’s agitation?

“No, wrong problem,” said Rachel. “Remember Matthew?”

Matt kept his gaze on her, feeling Sam’s stare, wondering how close Rachel had gotten to this man in Matthew’s absence. Jealousy filtered through him, making him stiff with anger.

Then he locked gazes with Sam, who nodded slowly in his direction. There was a total lack of respect written on his face. In a sense, Matt couldn’t blame him. If his life turned out to be half as awful as what he suspected, Rachel had every right to hate him.

The tension abated slightly when Sam addressed Sonny, Junior and Mitzi. “I saw the car weaving down the road. You’re all stinking drunk. I can smell you from the nearest dry county.”

Mitzi grinned. “We’re welcoming home our Mattie.”

A bottle crashed to the pavement, and whiskey pooled around Junior’s feet. “Why, look at that,” he said, worming a finger under his hat to scratch his head.

Sam narrowed his eyes as Sonny slapped Junior upside the head. “Junior Crabbe, Sonny Jenks and Mitzi Antle—”

The tiny girl interrupted. “That’s Madcap Mitzi—”

Sam continued without a hitch. “Nobody’s driving that hot rod home. Let’s take a trip to the office.”

Matt could feel the weight of Rachel’s stare as Sam herded them into the Bronco. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t take her disappointment.

He was even disappointed in himself. God, had the old Matthew spent time with friends like this?

Sam glanced at Rachel as he prepared to reenter his vehicle. “Maybe you’d both like to come over to my place in a few days? Everyone will want to see you and Matthew, I’m sure.”

Rachel looked at Matt, silently asking if he was up to going.

He nodded, knowing that he’d have to deal with the rest of Kane’s Crossing soon anyway. There was no escaping the curiosity.

She smiled at Sam. “We’ll be there. Tell Ashlyn and Taggert hello.”

“I will. Night, Rachel.” Sam’s grin disappeared. “Matthew.”

From the way Sam looked at him, Matt knew he’d be in for a real test when he met Rachel’s friends. Hell, the whole town probably thought he’d gone off and cheated on his wife.

The picture of the blond woman with the little boy plowed into Matt’s brain again.

He only wished he could be sure that he hadn’t cheated.

As the sheriff drove away, leaving the blazing-red Camaro in their driveway, Rachel said, “Let’s go inside.”

A comment escaped his lips before he could stop it. “The sheriff was awfully interested in your comfort.”

“Jeez, Matthew.” Rachel suddenly seemed so tired, her eyes reddened as if from crying, her voice weary. “Sam’s a friend. You’d be mortified if you could see how much he loves his wife and son.”

Matt couldn’t move, didn’t want to come in the house after revealing his damned insecurity. “You go on in, Rachel, to the guests.”

She stood there for a moment more, but Matt turned away from her. He knew she wanted to talk about Sonny and his friends, but what the hell could he say? He couldn’t even apologize for this mistake.

He felt her leave, missed the jasmine in the air, missed the opportunity to say he was sorry once again.

Even if Matt Shane had come home, he was lonelier than ever.

Chapter Four

T en minutes later, their company had cleared the house. Rachel almost missed the crowd already, feeling just about naked without their sheltering small talk, the excuses to work in the kitchen or kick the party crashers’ tails back to the nearest jail cell.

She was just descending the stairs after making sure Lacey had readied Tamela for bed before leaving. Matthew sat on a couch in the family room, his head down.

Rachel walked behind him, peering over his shoulder.

He started, noticing her presence, a guilty cast to his eyes. A scrapbook lay in his palms, opened to shots of holly, Christmas ribbons and discarded gift wrap.

She knew he was sorry for what he’d said about Sam Reno. Sam was a good friend who’d just gotten married to the former Ashlyn Spencer, a woman Sam had considered to be the daughter of his worst enemy, the daughter of the man who’d been responsible for the factory death of Sam’s father.

Rachel had supported Sam while he’d come to terms with Ashlyn, while he’d fallen in love with her. In return, she and Matthew were going to need all the support they could get from friends like Sam and Ashlyn.

But for the time being, she could ignore Matthew’s discomfort and how it had made him jump to conclusions.

Rachel nodded toward the pictures. “The Christmas book. We record every Yuletide season for Tamela.”

His lips tightened, and Rachel couldn’t help noticing how lost he seemed. He flipped past another page.

“I wasn’t in too many pictures, was I?”

She didn’t want to tell him that he’d usually come home late from the office on Christmas Eve, bringing Tamela and Rachel generous presents as an apology for being tardy. He’d usually find some excuse to make himself scarce during the Christmas festivities.