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
