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“McKringle went upstairs to check on Rosalind. I said I would check on you. Conversation go okay?”
“She needs more proof before she’ll believe me,” Thomas told him.
“Smart decision.”
Yeah, it was, and, as she’d said, one he would’ve made himself. Once she read her history, he had no doubt Rosalind would realize he was telling the truth.
Thomas took another sip. “I can’t believe it, Linus.” He might as well be walking in a dream. “How many times did you talk with McDermott about his factory? And she was right down the road.” Dear God... “I didn’t want to stop for dinner.” If not for Linus’s insistence, he would never have learned that Rosie had survived. When he thought how close the miss had been, he felt sick.
“How did she get here? Her car was on the West Coast.” Linus asked. “Did she say? McKringle wouldn’t answer my questions.”
“She doesn’t know,” Thomas said. “She doesn’t remember anything prior to meeting McKringle on the motorway.”
That included him. Thomas wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. A bit of both, he decided.
So many nights he’d lain awake blaming himself for the accident. She wouldn’t have been at the country house if I hadn’t been such a muleheaded fool.
“And now she’ll be home for Christmas.” He said the words out loud as much for reassurance as anything. “Maddie’s going to be thrilled.”
“What about you?” Linus asked.
That was a silly question. “Of course I’m happy. Don’t be daft.” He drained the last of his drink in one final swallow. McKringle hadn’t undersold; the Scotch was superior.
“I know you’re happy, Thommy-boy.” Thomas winced. He loathed his childhood nickname. “Anyone who saw your face when she walked in would know.”
Thomas still couldn’t believe the moment was real. That an hour ago he’d been a widower, and with one blink of an eye, his family was returned. It was a dream come true.
Making Linus’s question all the more strange. “If you don’t mean happy my wife’s alive, then what do you mean?” he asked.
His brother leaned against a table edge, bringing them eye to eye. It was rare for the youngest Collier to be serious, so the sober expression made Thomas’s pulse pick up. “Are you going to tell her the entire circumstances?” he asked.
“What am I supposed to say? By the way, did I mention I was a lousy husband and that’s the reason you were driving around up north in the first place?”
“You weren’t a lousy—”
But Thomas held up a hand. He knew at whose feet the blame lay.
“We’ve only just got her back, Linus. I’m not ready to lose her again.”
He looked down at his empty glass at the residual ring lining the bottom. Brown could have so many shades to it, he thought. Amber like the Scotch. Grayish brown like mud. Rosalind’s eyes were chocolate with flecks of gold. Darkness dappled with light.
He’d missed those eyes.
“It’s almost Christmas,” he said to his brother. “Would it be so wrong to give Maddie a few weeks of family peace?”
“You’re staying quiet for Maddie’s sake, are you?”
“Okay, for both our sakes,” Thomas replied, his cheeks hot. He should have known Linus would call him on the excuse. “Is that so wrong?”
“No.” His brother shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”
Eventually, Rosalind would remember everything. She’d have to remember, wouldn’t she? McKringle said the doctors were optimistic as to the outcome.
When she did, Thomas would be there to fill in the blanks, warts and all, including the fact she’d gone to the cottage to contemplate their marriage’s future.
In the meantime, the two of them could spend the next few weeks creating new memories. Maybe, with luck, he could show Rosalind that he was willing to change. That he was willing to do whatever it took to make her and Maddie happy again.
Then, maybe, just maybe when Rosalind did remember the past, the problems they’d had wouldn’t matter.
After all, as today proved, bigger miracles had happened.
When Thomas had said he’d give her proof, he hadn’t been kidding. For the next few mornings packages of documents arrived by email. There were articles. Photographs. A copy of their marriage certificate and her birth certificate. In fact, so much information arrived in such a short time, Rosalind wondered if Thomas had a team of employees working with him. Of course, she did her own research too, since she now had names to search online.
For starters Thomas Collier, she learned, was the Collier Soap Company. Part of it, at least. He became president after the death of his father, Preston. Preston had been a busy man, marrying three times and producing Thomas, his brother, Linus, and a half sister, Susan.
When she read about Thomas online, she found herself unsurprised that he was a successful executive. She’d known when she saw him in the pub that he wasn’t an average man. Interestingly, her impression had had little to do with his expensive suit and onyx cuff links.
He would look exceptional in an orange jumpsuit. It was the way he carried himself when he walked across the room. Tall and regal, the way a man who owned the room would walk.
How on earth had she managed to marry him? From what she could tell, she was the daughter of world-renowned geologists. You couldn’t get more removed from Collier’s world. When she asked, Thomas said they met at university. Hard to believe a man like him would have given her a second glance. But he had. She saw the wedding photos that proved it.
By the end the week, she knew enough of her life story to believe Thomas even if she still didn’t remember a thing. Problem was, being trapped in that nebulous knowing-not-knowing zone was worse than not knowing anything at all. Facts and figures answered her questions, but they couldn’t provide the assurance her gut needed to fully commit.
Except, that was, for Maddie. Every time she saw a photo of the little girl, her heart swelled with longing. Maybe because she hated to see such an adorable creature going without a mother. The reason why, however, didn’t matter. If she went back to London with Thomas, it would be to give that little girl her mother back.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said to Chris and Jessica one night after the dinner rush. “How do I go back and be some man’s wife when I can’t remember him?”
The two of them hadn’t talked again since that night. Having agreed to give her space, Thomas limited his contact to the emails accompanying his daily document delivery. While the notes were friendly and upbeat, often filled with anecdotes relating to that day’s documents, she could read between the lines his eagerness to have her home. Especially when he included the words “We miss you” in the text.
“Who says you have to?” Jessica replied. “Just because you know your name and identity doesn’t mean you have to immediately rush back and start living your former life. You wouldn’t rush a baby into walking, would you?”
“No.” Sighing, she rested her forehead against the heels of her palms. “If only I could remember him. Reading those papers is like reading a book about someone else. I know facts and dates, but I don’t feel real. Does that make sense?”
“You need to give yourself time, sweetheart.” Jessica reached across the table and clasped Rosalind’s hand between her two pudgy ones. For a woman who spent her days working in a kitchen, her skin was soft as silk—Collier’s lavender skin cream. Thomas was everywhere, Rosalind thought. “Eventually, your heart will remember.”
“And if it doesn’t?” What if she never remembered Thomas Collier beyond his soulful eyes and commanding presence?
“Who says you have to stay with him? You start a new life with your little girl,” Jessica replied. “I know you won’t have to worry about your feelings for her.”
Rosalind blushed. She was already in love with the girl from her photos and, at the end of the day, was the best reason for returning to London. “She deserves to have her mother home.”
But Jessica’s argument stuck with her. The older woman was right. There was no reason Rosalind had to stay with Thomas if she couldn’t remember him.
That gave her an idea.
“What do you mean, a ‘trial visit’?”
It was a few nights later and they were walking in the village center, Thomas having shown up unannounced for a visit. Since the restaurant wasn’t busy Chris gave her the evening off so they could talk. It was, Rosalind figured, as good a time as any to share her plan.
Needless to say Thomas hadn’t embraced the idea with enthusiasm.
“I mean exactly what it sounds like,” she replied. “I’ll come to London.”
“You mean home. You’ll come home.”
Rosalind sighed. “No, I mean London. This village is the only home I remember. Surely you can’t expect me to slide back into my old life simply because you’ve sent me a few emails full of facts and dates?”
The way he turned away said that was exactly what he expected. Which led to other questions as to what else he expected.
In keeping with the season, the trees on the common had been wrapped in strands of blue and white lights. A patriotic illuminated forest with branches that danced and sparkled in the wind. It was romantic, magical and no doubt the reason why Rosalind was acutely aware of Thomas’s shoulder moving beside her.
She looked sideways at his silhouette. He wore the same expensive clothes as before and exuded the same command and self-possession, while she wore flannel and boots. Night and day. Top and bottom. Hard to imagine them ever fitting together. They had though. She’d seen the marriage certificate that proved it.
“What about Maddie?” Thomas asked after a moment.
“Maddie is the reason I’m willing to go back at all.” Wouldn’t matter if Rosalind had a zillion doubts, the notion of that child going another day thinking she’d died was intolerable. “She needs her mother.”
“You don’t think I need you?”
“You’re not a little girl.” On the contrary, there was nothing little about him. “And, there’s no guarantee you and I will be able to reconnect. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. I’d feel better going in if I knew I had the freedom to...”
“Leave.”
“Yes. I mean, no. I wouldn’t leave Maddie.”
“Just me.”
Did he have to say the words in such a flat voice? It left a guilty knot in her stomach. “The plan sounded much better in my head.” Certainly less callous. She needed to remember that as far as he was concerned, she was the woman he loved. “I don’t mean to imply that I’m not going to try. I’m just...”
“Scared.” The softness in his voice allowed the word to wash over her with relief.
“Terrified,” she replied. Trading the known for the unknown? Who wouldn’t be? “I have no idea what I’m jumping into.”
“So you want an end date in case things don’t work out.”
“More like a potential end date. A point where both of us can step back and reassess. You’ve got to admit it’s not your run-of-the-mill situation.”
“No, it definitely is not.”
Rosalind let out a breath. He understood. This was the only way she could think of to maintain some control.
“How long do you envision this trial visit of yours lasting?”
“Over Christmas and New Year at least,” she said. “I don’t want to do anything until after the New Year. Giving Maddie a happy Christmas is my first priority.”
“Mine too.”
“Then we’re agreed. We’ll spend the next few weeks focused on our daughter and Christmas and see where things stand in January.”
“That gives us three weeks.” It was clear he didn’t like the idea. To his credit, however, he didn’t argue. Their daughter’s Christmas clearly was a priority.
“Twenty-one days,” she replied. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll remember everything as soon as I walk through the front door, and this whole conversation will be moot.” Stranger things had happened, right?
“Have you remembered anything?”
She shook her head. “No. Not really. A few of the photos felt familiar, but I think that was more wishful thinking. I’m sorry.”
The ground crunched beneath their feet. “You have nothing to apologize for, Rosalind.”
But she felt like she did. She felt terrible that she couldn’t remember her family and even more terrible that she wasn’t bouncing with excitement over having found her way home.
“It’s not like I don’t want to remember. I do.” Ever since he’d appeared in the restaurant, she’d been praying for the floodgates to open and erase the blankness. The only response she’d received was her heart pounding with anxiety.
“I believe you, and I’ll try not to push.”
“Thank you.” The tension in her shoulders started to ease.
“But...”
And, tensed right back up again. Stopping beneath a large blue branch, she turned to look him straight on. Her heart was starting to race. “But what?”
“I won’t push about your memory, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and win you over. You should know that between now and Christmas, I plan on charming the socks off you. You’ll be too enamored by me to even think of leaving.”
“Is that so?” She crossed her arms and did her best to sound unimpressed. Difficult since his cocksure attitude actually was impressive. And charming.
“Oh, most definitely, Mrs Collier.” He upped the charm by saying the moniker with a silky-smooth lilt. “Most definitely. In fact...”
His blue eyes bore into her. Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind saw him raise his hand making her think he planned to reach out and touch her. She held her breath.
He kept his distance. His stare didn’t waver. “In fact,” he repeated, “I’m going to start tonight.”
CHAPTER THREE (#uab103296-b176-52df-b521-9e58b9005e55)
NO ONE WOULD ever accuse Thomas of giving less than 100 percent. If anything, people accused him of being overly dedicated. When he committed to something, he went all in. Right now, that something was wooing his wife. He intended to do his damnedest to win her over before the New Year. Before she recalled the cracks. Back in the beginning, he’d been a pro at grand romantic gestures. While his inner romantic might be rusty, it was still there. Somewhere.
Taking Rosalind’s hand, he led her back the short walk to the town limits where McKringle’s sat empty as ever. Honest to God, how the business survived was beyond him.
The restaurant owner, of course, was more than happy to help. He packed a small bag while Rosalind did her best to make him insist she stay to work. Unfortunately for her, the restaurant was nearly empty. The only customers were a pair of short, reedy gentlemen drinking beer at the bar. When the older man rushed Rosalind and Thomas out the door with a cheery smile, she looked practically panicked.
“Relax,” Thomas said as they walked to his rental car. “I promise I’m not about to take you into the wilderness and chop you into little bits.”
“I know that,” she replied.
Could have fooled him. She looked about as excited as a serial killer victim. Seeing her reluctance stung. When had his own wife become afraid of him?
Since she forgot she was your wife, that’s when.
As far as she was concerned, he was a stranger, and one prone to impetuous embraces at that. “Would it help if I promise not to wrap you in my arms either?” he asked. Much as he wanted to.
