pieces of her life may come back gradually, like this morning, or she could be flooded with memories all at once. Other times, she may not be aware she’s remembering. The information will just come out in something she says. I have an appointment with Belle in the morning and we’ll thoroughly go over the details, but she’s read so much and studied PTSD that she’s well aware of what’s happening. She’s become so strong, a pale comparison to the shell of a woman I first saw in the hospital. I have no doubt she’ll overcome all of this.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I hear another ‘but.’”
“Memory loss related to traumatic experiences may serve as a protective function. If Belle feels a strong secure attachment in the present she may never allow herself to remember.”
He swallowed. “So make it clear that we are only friends?”
Dr. Oliver nodded. “Yes. That would help her tremendously. She may not realize it now, but she will later.”
How will he feel later? Hurt and alone. But he’d known that from the start and he wouldn’t change anything he’d done for Belle.
As if sensing his thoughts, Dr. Oliver added, “I know you care deeply for Belle and she was lucky to have someone so unselfish and caring on her side. She has basically overcome the physical abuse of the cult—painful flashbacks and dreams are normal and Belle knows that. But once she becomes aware of the reason why she was shot she has to be able to cope. And I believe she can.”
“Me, too. Thanks for being so honest.”
“Belle’s future is in her hands.” She scribbled a number on the back of a business card. “That’s my cell. Call if you feel you need me, but Belle trusts you and you’re probably the best person to reveal tidbits about her past.”
Caleb tipped his hat and walked out, wondering exactly what the future held—for Belle. And him.
WHEN HE REACHED the Parker house, Belle was waiting for him. He followed her into the living room. Gertie was upstairs.
She turned to him. “Did you find my family?”
He removed his hat and sat on the sofa, trying to find the right words. “Sort of.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He patted the spot beside him. “Sit, and let’s take this slow.”
“Okay.” She did as he asked.
Her dark hair hung down her back and her eyes were bright. How could he tell her? How could he douse that light from her eyes? He had no choice. Taking a long breath, he said, “Your parents’ names are Brett and Marie Beckett.”
Her frown deepened and he waited. Her hands framed her face, her eyes heavy with memories. “Yes. My parents.” Suddenly tears filled her eyes. “They’re dead. I remember the awful car accident. I remember. Oh, no! Oh, no!” She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked to and fro, her hair obscuring her face.
Caleb’s stomach churned with a sick feeling, but he didn’t interfere as she dealt with her parents’ deaths all over again. He wanted to touch or hold her, but he knew it was best not to. So he just gave her time.
Slowly she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “They were too young to have their lives cut tragically short. And they were so much in love.”
“Did you live with them?” Dr. Oliver wanted him to ask questions, so that’s how he started.
Her brow wrinkled in thought and she touched her forehead. “No. I had my own apartment. Daddy didn’t like it, but Mama said I was grown up and since I was a…” Her voice halted as another memory surfaced.
Her eyes grew big. “I was a police officer. Oh, my God! I was a police officer!”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “In Corpus, then in Beckett, Texas.”
Her eyes became even bigger. “It’s my name. Beckett. Beckett.” She repeated the name, testing it, running it through her brain. “My grandfather lives there.” She frowned. “I worked there?”
“Can you remember?”
Her frown became fierce. “Why would I work in Beckett? My parents didn’t even live there. Oh, wait.” She held her head in a vice as memories tortured her. “After my parents died, I went there at my grandfather’s invitation. His name is Boone Beckett.”
“Yes,” Caleb confirmed. “Can you remember anything else?”
She jumped to her feet. “No, and I don’t want to.”
He stood facing her. She was barefoot and she barely came to his shoulder. “I know this is painful, but it’s what you wanted—to know the truth about yourself.”
“Yes.” She looked him in the eye. “Did my grandfather report me missing?”
This was the hard part. He shook his head. “No. No one has reported you missing.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“All I have are facts, no concrete answers. To find those you have to go back to Beckett.”
Fear flashed in her eyes and he was quick to tell her, “I’ll go with you.”
“You will?”
“Yes. I’ll stay with you until your full memory returns.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure I could do it alone.”
“You don’t have to.”
“When can we go?” she asked, her voice anxious.
“How about the morning after the charity ball? That will give you time to get your thoughts together, talk to Dr. Oliver and explain to Gertie.”
“Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll hate to leave her. She’s been so good to me.”
“She’ll understand. We all want you to regain your memory.”
“Yes,” she replied in a melancholy voice.
He restrained himself from touching her wet cheek. “Try not to think about it too much. We have the ball tomorrow night and then we’ll find the answers you need.”
Her face softened. “I’m sorry you got roped into that.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am. I’d never have any fun if I didn’t squire Ms. Gertie around town.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now get some rest.”
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
She licked her dry lips. “How old am I?”
“Thirty.”
“Oh.
