Found: His Perfect Wife

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He said it as if he thought it was the wrong time of day for it. She’d been raised on eggs at night and steak in the morning. Food was food.

“Hey, I’m hungry enough to eat waxed paper. An omelet sounds like heaven.” She paused, not knowing what he needed in addition to the two ingredients she’d put out. “I’d offer to help cook, but that’s a contradiction in terms as far as I’m concerned.” And then she grinned. “I can be your cheering section.”

His cheering section. She’d put into words just how he saw her. “I’d like that.”

She closed her eyes, savoring this bite as much as she had the first and the second. The man was nothing short of a miracle worker. He even cooked rings around Lily. This wasn’t an omelet, it was a minor miracle.

Lily was going to love him.

As if her older sister needed another man in her life. The thought was without malice. Dedicated, hardworking, Lily also knew how to play hard. And to enjoy herself.

Not for you, Alison. You were meant for other things, she told herself.

She held up her empty fork, raising a phantom glass in a toast.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” And then her question hit her. If he could answer that, then he wouldn’t have been here in the first place. She offered him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I was just trying to sneak out another piece of information.”

It was an excuse, a way of covering for herself. But now that she said it, she realized that it wasn’t such a bad way to go. If she talked enough, prodded enough, maybe something else would come back to him. Maybe even everything.

“The subconscious is a strange thing.” She fell back on textbook knowledge. He was, after all, her first amnesia patient. And he was her responsibility, as well, because she meant to have him get better in her care. “It’s all in there, you know, every thought you’ve ever had, every memory you ever gathered.” Her eyes strayed to the small TV set on the counter near the sink. It was there at her insistence. “And every program you ever watched.”

He followed her line of vision and reflected. “I don’t think I’ve watched many programs.”

The concept, voluntarily adhered to, was almost impossible for her to believe. Unless there was a reason. Her eyes lit up. Worth a shot.

“Maybe your parents were disciplinarians. I had a friend whose parents would only let her watch one hour of television a week. Me, I was plugged into a television set the day I was born. Kevin says I’m a walking trivia book on cartoons and sitcoms.”

She stopped to take in another forkful. Every one had been a delight. “This is really great. You know, if this amnesia of yours continues for a while and you need a job, I know Lily would love to get her hands on you.”

Probably literally and otherwise, she added silently. Lily had radar as far as good-looking men went. Luc not only fell into the category, he looked as if he could probably rise to the head of the column.

“Right now, she can’t find a chef to meet her standards, so she’s doing all the cooking at Lily’s herself.” She finished her meal and felt a pang of regret. She was full, but she would have been willing to eat more. A lot more. “If you can make anything else besides omelets, you’d be an answer to a prayer for her.”

“I can cook anything.” He grinned at the cocky way that sounded. But there was no denying the wave of confidence that had come over him. He knew he could cook. It was nice to finally be sure of something, even something as trivial as this. “I can.”

Using her fork as a microphone, she pretended to be a news announcer and declared, “And we’ve established a beachhead.” Her eyes were eager. “Anything else coming back to you?”

“You already asked that.”

“I thought we’d do spot checks every hour, see if anything else drifts back to you.” She propped her head up on her fisted hand. “Like, do you remember saving anyone else?”

He wondered if she knew how genial her smile was. How warm. He shook his head in answer to her question. “I don’t even remember saving you.”

“You did. You were like the U.S. cavalry. Or a Canadian Mountie.” They were near the Canadian border. Maybe he was a Canadian, on vacation in the States. If that were the case, this would probably go down as one of the worst vacations on record, just a few lines below booking passage on the Titanic.

She could tell he wanted her to elaborate. “You hauled that guy out of the cab as if he was some rag doll instead of this stocky pig.” Alison smiled, recalling. “He looked really scared, even though he had a knife and you just had your bare hands.”

None of this was coming back to him. It was as if she was talking about something that had happened to someone else. “Did I hit him?”

She laughed. “Into next Sunday. If he hadn’t had a partner skulking in the shadows, he would have been cooling his heels in jail right now.” Her narrative over, her voice softened. “And you would still have your memory. I’m really very sorry about that.”

He didn’t want her feeling guilty. “It’s not your fault.”

But she didn’t see it that way. “I should have parked in the street.” One little misstep had caused all this. “It was just that I wanted to avoid getting snarled up in traffic.”

He dismissed it with a shrug, wanting her to do the same. Leaning over, he picked up her empty plate as well as his own and rose to his feet. “Logical.”

A smile curved her lips as she watched him. “You do dishes, too?”

He looked down at the plates and realized that he was bringing them over to the sink. He’d done it automatically, as if he’d been preprogrammed. “I guess I do.”

The man was single. If she hadn’t decided the matter earlier, this would have convinced her. “Well, memory loss or not, you’re not going to be on the market long.” Getting up, she pushed in her chair. “You cook, clean up after yourself and put yourself on the line to rescue damsels in distress. Most women go to bed every night praying to meet someone like you.”