To Have and To Hold Page 3

  turning out to be a lot of fun,” she said as she pul ed the biscuits out of the oven.

  “You love to cook, Ma. You say it’s one of your favorite things to do.”

  Hearing that surprised her, but it assured her that things she enjoyed before she lost her

  memory would be things she’d continue to enjoy and she took comfort in that. Just as she was

  about to ask him what else she enjoyed, Rachel ran into the kitchen with a frog which slipped

  out of her hands and jumped over to the cook stove.

  “Get it out of here,” Mary told her son while she shooed it away so it wouldn’t get near the

  food.

  “Sure thing, Ma!” Isaac hurried after it.

  Dave hurried into the kitchen and picked Rachel up just as Isaac caught the frog before it could

  jump up on the cook stove. “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t see her leave the parlor.”

  While Isaac took the frog out of the house, she pressed her hand to her chest and laughed.

  “Actual y, it was funny. Does that happen often?”

  “No,” Dave replied. “We don’t let Isaac bring animals into the house. I only al owed it this once

  because I wanted the children to stay busy.”

  She was relieved. The idea of frogs hopping around her kitchen on a regular basis wouldn’t be

  as funny as it was for something that just happened once. “Wel , supper is almost ready. I

  was about to set the table.”

  “Then I’l get Rachel in a highchair and help you set the table.”

  She was about to ask him if he usual y helped her with setting the table, but he was already out

  of the kitchen. Curious, she fol owed him and saw that he meant they would eat in the dining

  room. She didn’t even know they had a dining room. Wel , she must’ve known, except she

  forgot. And now she knew again. Sighing, she reminded herself to be patient. The doctor said

  it would take time before she got her memories back.

  On her way back to the kitchen, Isaac returned, and before he could grab the utensils, she

  asked, “Did you wash your hands?”

  Pausing, he blinked in surprise. “You remember saying that?”

  “No. It’s just disgusting to touch forks and spoons if you haven’t washed your hands, especial y

  since you just touched a frog.”

  “Did Rachel wash her hands?”

  Realizing Rachel hadn’t, Mary retrieved a clean cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water on

  the worktable. After she got it wet, she rubbed soap on it and said, “Yes, Rachel washed her

  hands. Now, you go and wash yours, too.”

  “They’l get dirty when I eat anyway,” he muttered as he headed back out of the house.

  Peering out the window, Mary saw her son go to the wel and nodded. Good. He real y was

  going to wash his hands. She went to the dining room as Dave headed back to the kitchen.

  She held her hand out to Rachel who put her hand in hers, and then she washed Rachel’s

  hands.

  “Mama,” Rachel said, her wide eyes focused on Mary.

  Mary stopped wiping the cloth over her daughter’s hands and made eye contact with her.

  “Mama clean,” she added, her lips turning up into a smile.

  Her eyes fil ed with tears because she wished she could remember her children. Mary brushed

  the girl’s wiry dark blond curls away from her face. “You’re such a pretty girl.”

  And Rachel was. Bright blue-green eyes, dark blonde hair, a smile that lit up her entire face.

  Now that she thought about it, both children looked like Dave. They were very attractive. Dave

  came into the room with a stack of plates and utensils. For al she knew, he was the best

  looking man she’d ever seen. Isaac came in next with cloth napkins and two cups. Her gaze

  shifted back to Dave and then Rachel.

  Al of them would never have trouble with people in the same way that someone who wasn’t so

  attractive would. Wondering where that thought came from, she frowned and tried to retrieve

  something that seemed to be right at the edge of her awareness.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Shifting her gaze to Dave who’d set down the last plate, she shook her head. “No. I…” She

  looked at Rachel and the cloth in her hands. “I was washing Rachel’s hands. She touched the

  frog, so I thought they needed to be cleaned.”

  “I washed mine,” Isaac pointed out, showing them to his parents.

  “Good.” Dave ruffled his hair. “Now help me get the rest of the dishes.”

  While the two returned to the kitchen, she forced her attention back to the task at hand, figuring

  that whatever memory had been trying to emerge wasn’t important.

  Chapter Four

  Mary pul ed the nightshirt over her head, exhausted from the day’s activities. She suspected

  she kept busy every day, but it wasn’t every day she lost her memory. Examining her reflection

  in the mirror was like looking at a stranger. Her appearance was unassuming, real y. Nothing

  seemed to stand out. She was a bit overweight. Turning her gaze from her overal

  appearance, she stepped forward to study her face. Her eyes seemed to be a blend of green

  and blue, though it was hard to tel which color dominated more. Her nose stood out a little

  more than she’d seen on other people when she was in town, but she thought it fit her face just

  fine.

  Mousy brown hair she’d pul ed up into a bun, probably because of the heat that morning. She

  pul ed it out of the bun to see how long it was, and it fel to the middle of her back. When she

  realized how frizzy it was, she decided that her habit of pul ing her hair into a bun had more to

  do with that than the heat. After she twisted it back into a bun and secured it with the pins, she

  resumed her examination.

  She had pale skin, which was unlike the man she’d married who was tan. Perhaps she didn’t

  spend much time outside because she did a lot of cooking and sewing and tending to the

  children? From what her husband told her, those were the things she loved doing the most.

  She figured if his job was taking care of the animals and crops, then he had to spend most of

  his time outside so it made sense that his skin was darker than hers.

  Yes, she was unassuming. She guessed that she was the type of person who blended into a

  crowd. With a shrug, she decided she’d get no answers about who she was or how she came

  to be in this house, married to Dave Larson and having his children.

  The wind blew in from the window, cooling her off. She was relieved it was windy and that the

  bed was positioned in the right location to keep her comfortable. At first, she dreaded the idea

  of being in here because she feared she might spend the night burning up from the heat, and

  there was no way she could bring herself to take off her nightshirt in front of Dave. Sure, he

  might be her husband and maybe he was used to seeing her without her clothes on, but she

  didn’t remember any of it.

  Strol ing to the window, she peered through the parted curtains and saw Dave leaving the barn.

  He was whistling and she wondered if she should recognize the tune. Sighing, she turned and

  went to the bed. She was used to sleeping in it with him. She shouldn’t be nervous about it,

  but how could she not be? If she retained even a smal memory of him, perhaps everything

  would be easier.

  She pul ed back the thin blanket and sheet and settled into the bed. Releasing her breath, she

  closed her eyes for a moment.
This was where she was used to being every night, and yet,

  nothing about the bed seemed familiar to her. She opened her eyes and scanned the room in

  the fading sunlight. A dresser, a mirror, a table with a bowl and pitcher on it with a dry cloth

  hanging on the wal nearby, and the bed with a brass frame. The wal paper had a lovely

  pattern of blue flowers on a white background, which she admitted to liking as soon as she saw

  it. But then, why wouldn’t she? She probably had a part in picking it out.

  The door opened and she turned her attention to Dave as he entered the room. She had to

  keep reminding herself that he was her husband, so he had every right to be with her in bed.

  “You’re in bed early,” he said.

  Worried because she wasn’t sure why he was heading in her direction, she pul ed the blanket

  up to her neck despite the fact that it was too warm in the room. “I’m tired. Besides, the sun is

  setting. Don’t I usual y go to bed in the evenings?”

  He sat on her side of the bed, and she shifted so that his body wasn’t touching hers. If he

  noticed the way she pul ed away from him, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “Usual y

  at this time, you’re doing some sewing. It relaxes you.”

  “Oh.” She’d take his word for it. It was a bit alarming to know other people knew more about

  her than she did, but she decided not to state the observation. Clearing her throat, she asked,

  “What do you usual y do?”

  “Talk to you while you sew.”

  “Then I’m disrupting the routine.”

  He chuckled. “No. There are days when we go to bed early.”

  She didn’t understand the suggestive smile on his lips so she opted to ignore it. “I don’t think I’l

  remember how to sew.”

  His expression turned serious, and he leaned forward to brush a stray strand of hair from her

  cheek. “You just need to be patient. I’m sure knowing how to sew wil come back to you in

  time, just like everything else.”

  “I hope so. I hate the thought I won’t get my memory back.” Just the thought of that happening

  brought tears to her eyes.

  “Hey, it’l be alright. No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Judging by how great

  supper was, I think you’l pick up sewing in no time. You seem to be able to do the things you

  did before.”

  Wiping a tear that slid down her cheek, she shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “The important thing is that you’re feeling alright. You’re not dizzy or nauseous, are you?”

  “No. I feel fine.”

  He lowered his head and gave her a soft kiss. “Try not to worry about it. It was a shock for al

  of us, but we’l get through it. Considering how many things could have gone wrong, we got

  lucky. I’d rather have you lose your memory instead of you breaking your neck.”

  Yes, she supposed that was a way of putting a positive slant on things.

  He stood up and went to the dresser. “I forgot to bring up the kerosene lamp. I’l be right

  back.”

  Once he was out of the room, she threw off the blanket and let the breeze coming in through

  the window cool her off. She couldn’t sleep with that blanket covering her for the entire night.

  She’d end up turning into a pool of sweat. Sitting up, she waved her hand over the back of her

  neck. It helped a little but not enough.

  She stood up and checked her reflection in the mirror with what little sunlight filtered in through

  the room. The nightshirt concealed her wel enough. She could probably get away with

  sleeping without the blanket over her. When she heard Dave coming up the stairs, she hurried

  back to the bed and settled into it, resisting the urge to pul the blanket back up to her neck.

  Instead, she rol ed onto her side so she was facing the door. Her arm fel over her breasts,

  and she brought her knees up. There. Now he couldn’t see anything private. She knew it was

  ridiculous to cover herself from him. They had two children, after al , but she couldn’t bring

  herself to expose anything personal to him, at least not yet.

  He came back into the room with two cups. “I brought you some water.” He set them on the

  dresser and started to unbutton his shirt.

  Furrowing her eyebrows, she said, “I thought you were going to get the kerosene lamp.”

  He paused on the fourth button of his shirt and sighed. “Right. I was going to do that. I’l be

  right back.”

  As he left the room a second time, she couldn’t help but giggle. And here she thought she was

  the one with the memory problem. Laughing helped her relax so that by the time Dave returned

  with the lamp, she wasn’t as nervous as before.

  “I even remembered the matches,” he proudly stated as he set them by the lamp on the

  dresser. “Would you like me to light it?”

  “No. I just want to go to sleep.”

  He nodded and shut the bedroom door. “It’s been a long day.” As he resumed the task of

  unbuttoning his shirt, he asked, “Do you stil feel alright?”

  “You asked me that a moment ago.”

  He shrugged out of his shirt. “I know, but I worry about you.”

  When he pul ed his undershirt over his head, her cheeks grew warm and she averted her gaze

  from him. Surely, he didn’t intend to get completely undressed in front of her! She chanced a

  glance in his direction and saw him unbuttoning his pants.

  “I was going to ask you if you wanted to visit my sisters, but I suspect they’l be coming out

  tomorrow to see how you’re doing. Maybe they’l say or do something that wil spark a

  memory.”

  She watched as he took off his pants and socks. How could he undress in front of her as if it

  was no big deal? Wel , of course, it wasn’t a big deal. Not to him. He probably did this out of

  habit. Even so, she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see if he took off his underwear.

  She heard him walk across the room and then felt the bed shift as he settled next to her. Since

  her back was to him, she opened her eyes, glad the daylight was quickly fading into night. Now

  if she had to rol onto her back or anything, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

  “Can I hold you?” he whispered. “Ever since we’ve been married, I got used to holding you at

  night. I don’t know if I can sleep otherwise.”

  She glanced over her shoulder so she could look at him, surprised he wanted to hold her when

  it was warm in the room. Was it wise to let a man who was either ful y naked, or almost

  naked, hold her in bed? She saw the hopeful look in his eyes and it occurred to her how much

  it would mean to him if she said yes. “You can hold me.”

  He smiled and snuggled up to her, pressing her back against his chest. “Thank you.”

  She expected the experience to be an awkward one, but it wasn’t. In fact, it was comfortable,

  as if she was supposed to be in his arms. She even remembered that being with him like this in

  the past had been peaceful.

  After a couple of minutes, she closed her eyes. The breeze drifting in through the open window

  did cool her off as she’d hoped. As she was drifting off to sleep, she heard him murmur, “ I love

  you, Mary.” Her skin warmed in pleasure, and though she was now wide awake because of his

  words, she didn’t mind it.

  ***

  The next day just as Mary was col ecting dishes to wash after lunch, there was a knock at the

  fron
t door. While Dave and Isaac went to answer it, she placed the remaining plates on the

  worktable. She checked the water in the pot on the cook stove. It wasn’t hot enough yet to

  dump into the two sinks so she turned to Rachel and wiped her hands clean.

  Isaac ran back into the kitchen. “Can I help Pa look for bugs in the corn?”

  Glancing up from Rachel as she wiped her mouth clean, Mary asked, “Shouldn’t you ask him

  that?” After al , she didn’t remember if he usual y did that or not.

  “If you ask him, he’l say yes,” Isaac replied. “He can’t tel you no.”

  Surprised that she should have so much influence over Dave, she shrugged. “Alright. I’l ask

  him.”

  “Good. Aunt Sal y and Aunt Jenny brought babies, and I don’t want to be with babies.”

  “Aunt Sal y and Aunt Jenny?”

  “Pa’s sisters. You like them.”

  That was good. If she liked them, then there shouldn’t be a problem with seeing them. Helping

  Rachel down from the highchair, she decided to go to the parlor where she could hear her

  husband talking. Her steps slowed as Isaac and Rachel fol owed her.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said.

  “She doesn’t remember anything at al ?” one of the blonde women asked as she shifted a ten-

  month-old girl from one hip to another.

  “No,” he began, “but she’s stil the same wonderful person as before, so she hasn’t changed.”

  Mary’s cheeks grew warm at his words. It was nice she was married to a man who thought so

  wel of her. She fol owed Isaac and Rachel into the parlor, and the two women and their

  children looked at her.

  Dave turned around and smiled. “Mary, these are my sisters, Sal y and Jenny.”

  She nodded at them, noting that Sal y was the older one of the two women.

  “Sal y has a son named Greg and a daughter named Laura,” he continued.

  “I’m ten,” Greg said, his chest puffed out with pride.

  “And I’m eight,” another boy said, standing next to Greg.

  “That’s Jeremy,” Dave added. “He’s Jenny’s oldest son.”

  Greg put his arm around Jeremy and grinned. “We’re as close as brothers.”

  Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about me?”

  “You’re like a brother, too, squirt,” Greg said and gave him a light punch in the arm.