Page 31 of Shielding His Heart
I slump against her, my heart breaking a little. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t go anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers. I think I may have preferred if she’d screamed it at me. But she says it like it comes from the deepest wells of her fears. And rightfully so, considering what this precious little soul has been through.
All I can say is, “I’m right here.” Because while the sudden urge to protect her at all costs is the strongest thing I’ve felt since I woke up, I also have Alec’s words warning me not to make any promises I can’t keep.
Clearly sensing the tension, Tracy swoops in with a stack of pancakes for me and a fresh glass of ginger ale for Gemma. “Sip on this, sugar, and let’s see how your tummy tolerates it this morning.”
“Okay, Gramma,” Gemma says sweetly and climbs onto the barstool next to me.
She’s got a little more color to her, which, according to my frantic internet searching, must be a good sign. It must have been some freak twenty-four-hour bug. Poor babies. Hard to believe I used to do this every day with both girls when I can barely keep it together for myself now.
“What have you got planned today?” Tracy asks as she rinses off her breakfast dishes.
“I’m not sure, really. I guess I’m at loose ends, trying to figure out who I am now and what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Why don’t you take my car and go out for a little while? Alec mentioned you got the all-clear to drive. I’ll help Alec with the girls. It sounds like you can use some fresh air.”
“I don’t know. . .”
“Don’t you argue with me now. You can’t spend all your time cooped up here waiting on your life to fall back into your lap. From what Alec told me, the doctors don’t even think your memories are going to come back. Which means you have to figure out your new way forward, and the only way you can do that is to get started.”
“But what if I can’t—”
Tracy levels me with a look, and I see where Alec gets his iron sense of will. “Can’t never could no nothin’, little girl. Now get out of here.”
It’s not until I’m in the car and driving around Battleboro that I realize I have no idea where I’m supposed to be going. I just didn’t want to face Tracy’s wrath by telling her that. After driving around for a while, I find myself at the park by the river where Alec kissed me. I didn’t even realize that’s where I was going until I’m out of the car and sitting at the picnic bench under a tree.
Thumping my head against the table as though it’ll rattle the memories out, I try to get a hold of myself. I’ve been waiting for my next step to hit me in the head when that may never happen. Like Dr. Rennen said, my memories maynevercome back. It’s time to figure out what that’ll mean for my future.
First: I need to figure out a job.
I know Alec would let me leech off him forever. It’s just the kind of guy he is, but that’s not who I am. I need to support myself and have the freedom that provides should things go south.
Second: I need to figure out what to do about the girls. It’s not fair to them to be wishy-washy in their lives. I need to decide once and for all if I want to put in the work to be there for them or to bow out now.
Which leads me to the third thing: what to do about Alec.
That may be the most difficult of them all. My body tells me yes. Clearly, it has no trouble remembering him. It screams at me to beg for more kisses, more touches. . . more, more, more.
But I’m terrified that he only wants his wife back, notme. And what happens when he snaps out of his grief and realizes we’re not the same.
Not anymore.
I couldn’t handle it if he were to push me away. So, for now, I won’t do anything about Alec. I’ll focus on the first two points of my plan and move from there.
Feeling decidedly better, I push to my feet when a high-pitched sound catches my attention. I look for the source when movement catches my eye. A gasp bursts from my chest when a little black head lifts from a bed of grass a couple dozen yards away. It’s a cat, a beautiful, dark tortoiseshell, I think. God only knows how I remember whatthat’scalled and not anything important. Stupid brain.
The cat gets to its feet and begins moving toward me slowly and off-centered. Then I realize its front legs are deformed. They can’t extend fully, so the poor thing is a limping, hoping mess all the way over to me. When it gets close enough, I realize it’s all skin and bones. It can’t weigh more than a couple pounds if that.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim as I drop to my knees. “What happened to you?”
Its responding mewl is pitiful, and I hesitate to pet it, worried it may have been hit by a car, which is why its legs are so deformed. But it presses against my legs and doesn’t seem to be in pain. I don’t know if that’s better, though, because that would mean its legs had healed like this.
I gently pull it into my lap, its purrs vibrating in my chest. “Did someone leave you here?” A spurt of anger heats my veins. It presses its head into my wrist, and I look around as though I’ll find answers, but there are none. “What are we going to do with you?”
My mind races for a few minutes before I think to pull my phone out of my pocket. I do a quick Google search and find a local rescue. I hit the call button with the cat curled happily in my lap as though it’s where it’s always belonged.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling up in the rescue’s front parking lot. It’s a little rundown building with dozens of cages in the back. A cacophony of dogs barking greets my ears as I gingerly retrieve the cat and head inside.
