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After he’d set the kitchen on fire for the third time, their neighbors had stepped in. A Southern staple, the casserole, had begun to show up in its endless varieties, in the hands of their well-meaning friends.
The food, he’d thanked them for. Their looks of commiseration he’d hated so much he’d begun to pretend no one was home at dinnertime. His makebelieve often became the truth once his father decided to drink away his sorrows at a bar instead of in front of Alan.
The elevator doors wheezed open, pulling him out of the past. He glanced at the number painted on the pale-blue wall. Cate’s floor.
At her door, he knocked lightly before he went inside. To his surprise, she was sitting up, reading a magazine. She looked up, stroking the dressing that bulged against the sheet on her thigh.
“Hey,” she said, her tone lush and deep, like the dark river that ran behind her aunt’s home.
“How do you feel?” Idiot, he thought. Idiotic question.
Cate set her magazine aside. “I want to talk to you about how I feel.”
She looked younger than thirty-eight. Far younger. He still saw her as she’d been the day she’d sat in a bed on the floor above this one and held their newborn out to him.
Her wary gaze intimated this wasn’t going to that kind of talk. He steeled himself. “Tell me now if something’s wrong.”
“You’re making me nervous. Can you sit down so we can talk eye to eye?”
Wondering how hard his heart could pound before it exploded, he dropped into the chair beside her bed. “How bad is it? Just tell me.”
Confronted with the threat of another injury she found hard to discuss, he realized once and for all how they’d changed. Not just because she couldn’t remember their past. They’d drifted apart before her accident.
He’d tried to fool himself. He hadn’t preserved their love for each other despite all his protection. He’d feared losing her for the same reasons he’d lost his mother. He’d shut Cate out, because he didn’t trust her to love the part of him that felt so afraid.
“Alan, I need to know you’re listening to me.”
Her demand surprised him. She sounded exactly as she had the day of the accident. “You’re still yourself, after all.”
“Am I?” Interest filled her blue eyes as she held out her hand. “Tell me how.”
“What you just said, that you needed me to listen. Just before you got hurt, you were trying to make me understand exactly what you—”
“We argued?”
“I’m afraid so.” If she’d given him time, he might have tried to paint a better picture of those last seconds. “It wasn’t important.”
“But you didn’t understand me?”
“We’ve been married a long time. We’ve learned a shorthand, but shorthand may not have covered the conversations we needed to have.” Jeez, he sounded like a talk show therapist. “What’s wrong with you, Cate?”
“It’s not serious—I’m not—Oh, I give up.” She pushed her hair behind both ears. “I’m trying to tell you gently because I’m not sure you’ll be pleased, but I’m pregnant.”
He heard but he didn’t hear. Alan leaned forward, seeing her as a stranger. Her watchful blue eyes couldn’t belong to his Cate. “How pregnant?”
“Sixteen weeks.” She spread the gown over her belly, and he saw why she’d begun to avoid his touch.
He’d trusted her with his life, but she’d kept his child a secret. Her betrayal cut deep. “I thought you didn’t even want me to make love to you any more.” The only time they’d still communicated.
“Why didn’t I tell you?” Cate asked.
Rage made him harsh. “Since you didn’t, I can’t explain.” She’d planned to leave, but her decision hadn’t been spur of the moment. She’d planned to take his child. His heart stuttered over a few beats. “I can’t talk any more.”
“But I need to know—”
With his own lie foremost in his mind, he met her tear-sharpened gaze. He didn’t trust her tears, but he’d been no paragon of honesty.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
“Because I don’t understand. Were we unhappy?”
“I can’t guess how you felt. I remember the past twenty years. I remember when you told me about Dan.” They’d celebrated for nine months, until the real party started with his birth. “I would have been happy this time, too.”
“JUST PARK THE CAR. Don’t stop at the door, boy. I’m no invalid.” Uncle Ford’s orders bounced around the roof and doors of Dan’s car.
Ignoring his uncle, he braked beneath the canopy at the hospital’s front door. “I’m stopping here for Aunt Imogen. Will you wait with her while I park?”
“Imogen could best you in a footrace around the parking lot,” Uncle Ford said.
“Glad you recognize my talents, Ford. Now get out and let the boy park. Did you bring your cane?”
Dan shot her a grateful glance in the rearview mirror, and she smiled back while Uncle Ford wrestled himself out of the car. He insisted he just used the cane to lure the ladies to his supposedly helpless side.
“We both know I don’t need it,” he grumbled in what he always assumed was a whisper no one else could hear. People came out of the hospital’s vestry to see about the commotion. “Imogen, get out of this car. I’d like to visit my niece before tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t mind him.” Imogen waved a bottle of vanilla-scented perfume, which she dabbed behind her ears. “He’s worried about your mother, but he’d rather snap at us than admit he cares.”
Thanks to Aunt Imogen, he was the only guy his age who recognized vanilla at a hundred paces. “I don’t mind, but don’t go up to her room without me. Okay?”
“I’ll hold Ford back, but you hurry.” She shoved her perfume back in her purse and followed his uncle to the curb.
Dan parked in the first spot he found and dashed through the lot. Thank God for Aunt Imogen and Uncle Ford. He wouldn’t have to talk to his mom with them around. They were still arguing when he joined them.
“Don’t tell me not to shout, Imogen. I never shout. Are you suggesting I’m not considerate of sick people?”
“I’m suggesting you put a sock in it before that guard throws us all out.”
Trying not to laugh, Dan herded them toward the elevator. That guard wouldn’t tell Ford Talbot to put a sock in anything. Uncle Ford’s wild life made him a legend to every man and boy in town.
They crowded into the elevator and Aunt Imogen opened her beaded purse. With pale, pink-tipped fingers, she drew out a small brown paper package.
“Your mother’s favorite cookies,” she said. “Oatmeal raisin macadamia nut.”
Dan made a face. Worst combination he’d ever tasted. “She’ll be glad to see you, Aunt Imogen.”
“Watch out your face doesn’t freeze like that. I made some chocolate chip for you. Remind me to pack them up before you go over to Ford’s tonight.” She made a tsking sound. “Chocolate chip. That’s a plain cookie.”
“Not the way you make them.” He meant it. He could earn a fortune off her cookies if he sold them.
Aunt Imogen looked pleased. “You may look like a Palmer, but Cate passed you the Talbot charm.”
Yeah? Most of the time he saw himself as a stiff shadow of his inhibited father.
At his mom’s room, Uncle Ford used his cane to open her door. His mom was standing at her window. Dan followed his uncle and aunt inside. Just in time to catch the way his mother’s bewildered smile lingered on his aunt. When she saw him, her smile faded.
“Dan.”
She sounded different. She seemed less worried, but she still looked at him as if she barely recognized him. He’d always wanted her to put a little distance between them, but now, he needed her to know him. Even though he was eighteen—a man—deep in his heart, he wanted his mom.
“I’m glad to see you,” she said. “Come in. Let me ask for more chairs. Uncle Ford, take this one.” She offered him the only seat in the room, but he pushed it toward Aunt Imogen.
“I’ll go to the nurse’s station and ask for more. They should have brought more chairs in here anyway. They know you have a big family. Sit down, Imogen.”
“No, I’ll go with you.” She nodded encouragingly toward his mom as she hurried after Uncle Ford. “Dan and Cate might enjoy some privacy.”
Good thing he was a man, or he’d have grabbed Aunt Imogen’s skirt as she passed him. Rocking on his heels, he looked at his mom. Tried to think of something worth saying. She limped toward him, and for a second, he thought she was going to try to hug him. Instead, she kept going. He lurched out of her way as she closed the door.
“I have to ask you.” She held the door shut. “Why does Aunt Imogen wear a strip of cellophane tape down the middle of her forehead? I swear I saw gold graduation caps and diplomas on this piece.”
Was that all? He shrugged. “I graduate in three weeks.”
She waited. When he didn’t go on, she tossed up her hands in an I-still-don’t-get-it gesture.
“Oh, the tape,” he said. “She always wears it.” He put his finger in the middle of his eyebrows and frowned to show her the kind of wrinkles Aunt Imogen was trying to avoid. “Reminds her not to frown.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventy-something. No one’s ever told me. Why?”
She dropped her hands to her sides. “Well—” she cleared her throat “—I shouldn’t say this, but she has some wrinkles. And the tape—”
Dan forgot they didn’t know each other any more. “Mom, that’s rude.”
She raised both eyebrows. “I guess it was. Sorry.”
Just like that, she looked like his mom, except laughter tugged at her mouth, and for no reason he could think of, he laughed with her.
She eased the door open. “She was thoughtful to choose tape to fit your occasion.”
“You should see the Santas at Christmas.” She laughed again, and he did, too, but he felt guilty about it. Aunt Imogen didn’t like to be laughed at.
“I’m glad they left us alone,” his mom said. “I was dying to ask, but I didn’t want to hurt Aunt Imogen’s feelings.”
“I think she uses the tape and the hats and stuff to hide how she feels about the gossips in this town. People still spread rumors about that Navy guy.”
“Navy guy?” She obviously didn’t know. “My whole life is on the tip of my tongue. Not remembering baffles me. I even wondered if I was imagining Aunt Imogen’s tape.” She tightened the belt at her robe and then offered her hand. “What a relief. Good to see you, Dan.”
Dan shook hands with her. “I’m glad to see you, too.” For the first time since she’d come out of that coma he meant it. “Mom?”
“Huh?”
He chewed on his lip. He wasn’t a guy who clung to his mother, but he’d been so scared she was going to die. “Can I hug you?”
She tilted her head back, startled. “Well,” she said, “yes.” She opened her arms, but he could see she felt funny about it, too. Then as soon as he put his arms around her, she hugged back. Tight.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.
“Thanks.”
They both moved to neutral corners and avoided looking at each other. But he felt better.
CHAPTER THREE
SHOCKED AT Cate’s pregnancy and the fact she’d hidden it, Alan avoided his family that night. He couldn’t have hidden his panic at the uncertain future of his marriage, but he realized he had to keep fighting. Dan and Cate and the new baby needed him to save the business and their family.
The next morning, Alan parked in front of Caroline’s small cottage. Several miles down the beach from his and Cate’s house, the cottage bore the loving stamp of the Talbot women in its neatly maintained appearance and glinting windows. Like all the Talbot homes, the cottage welcomed visitors.
Until today, anyway. He might not be so welcome once he suggested Caroline was neglecting her sister.
He opened the car door and strode up the walk to rap on the door. It swung open. Caroline peered around it and Alan got to the point. “Why haven’t you visited Cate?”
“And good morning to you.” She stood aside. “Come in, Alan, and tell me what makes you so surly.”
Yesterday’s news about the baby gave him plenty to be surly about, but he still wouldn’t discuss his growing family with Cate’s twin. A new thought made him uneasy. As close as the sisters had been, she might already know. He couldn’t ask. He didn’t want to know if Cate trusted Caroline more than she trusted him.
“Cate needs to see everyone who might help her remember. You didn’t go to the hospital yesterday.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice but she screamed when she looked at her own face after seeing mine.”
“She’s been there for you, Caroline. All your lives.”
“I know. She pretended to be me when I played hooky from school. She helped me run away with my bad husband, and then she picked up the pieces when he left me. She’s baby-sat Shelly when my childcare fell through, and she does more than her fair share for Aunt Imogen and Uncle Ford.” Caroline paused to draw breath. “None of what she’s done changes the fact that my face scares her.”
“She sees your face every time she looks in a mirror.” He stepped inside the small house. It wasn’t so welcoming to a man. Only women lived here, and he felt too large for the narrow hall, the dainty French furniture. “Are you afraid to see her?”
She met his gaze. Not for the first time, this woman who looked so much like his wife but thought so differently disconcerted him. In silence, Caroline led him to the kitchen. She poured a cup of strong black coffee and set it on the counter in front of him.
“I’m terrified. Cate is part of me. We share so many of the same memories I’m not sure who I am without her.”
Her frankness only emphasized their serious fix. Caroline had become his friend as he’d fallen in love with her sister. He’d helped her and Shelly when he could, but she’d never confided in him this way.
And now they were going through the same crisis. Who were they when Cate, the glue that had held their family together, no longer knew them?
He closed his eyes. A shout rose in his throat. Pure pain that no one but Cate could alleviate. Only his Cate no longer existed.
“I understand why you’re reluctant,” he managed to say. “She may not remember you, but she needs you. You are part of each other. You can tell her things about her past that the rest of us don’t know.”
“I don’t know her better than you do, Alan.” She took another coffee cup from the cabinet. “I’m only her sister. You’re her husband.”
