she strapped herself in, he noticed her attention go to the police radio fastened to the dash and the low, intermittent crackle of a dispatcher’s voice. This was his job, his life. And something she’d never wanted to be a part of.
Trying to push the dark memories from his thoughts, Vince took his place behind the wheel, and after the nurse bid them farewell, he reached to the backseat for the bouquet of mixed flowers he’d picked up on the way to the hospital.
“Maybe these flowers will help take the forlorn look off your face,” Vince told her.
Her eyes wide, she stared at the bouquet.
“Flowers! For me?”
“For you. I’m glad you’re well enough to leave the hospital, Geena.”
A smile started in her eyes, then quickly spread to her lips. The happy expression lit up her face, and Vince was shocked at how good it made him feel to think he’d pleased her. That he’d given her even a tiny spark of pleasure.
Accepting the flowers, she bent her nose to the colorful blossoms. “How beautiful. Thank you, Vince. I—”
Her voice abruptly ended on a choked note and Vince realized she was crying. And though he knew her emotionally wrought state was no fault of his, her tears tortured him in a way he didn’t understand.
“Geena, it’s going to be okay.”
She sniffed, then gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry about the waterworks. It’s just that I—I have the feeling that it’s been a long time since anyone gave me flowers. Thank you, Vince.”
The need to assure her, to comfort and protect her hit him all at once, leaving a strange, hollow ache in the middle of his chest. Damn Evan and his idea for the flowers! He should’ve had better sense than to follow his partner’s advice. Now Geena was in tears and he was feeling like a helpless sap.
But she was clutching the bouquet like it was a precious possession. Which was understandable, he thought bleakly. At this moment, the only things that belonged to her were the baby she was carrying, the items in her tote bag and the flowers.
Clearing his throat, he put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I’d better get you on home. I have work waiting on me back at the office.”
He pulled onto the nearest street and mixed in with the traffic. When they finally reached the main thoroughfare, he noticed Geena was looking around her with interest.
“Does any of this look familiar?” he asked.
“No. Everything looks new to me.” She glanced over at him. “You said we used to live in Reno. Did we ever drive down here for any reason?”
“Not here. We drove over to Virginia City a couple of times, but that’s the closest we got to Carson City.”
“Hmm. Maybe this town looks new to me because I’ve never seen it before. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Very possible,” he agreed, then suddenly remembered the piece of jewelry he’d found at the accident site. While keeping his eye on the traffic, he fished the dainty necklace from his shirt pocket and handed it over to her. “Here. I found this dangling from a limb of sagebrush.”
“That’s mine! That’s my cross!”
Her unexpected reaction had him glancing across the console to see her gripping the piece of silver.
“You recognize it?”
“Of course I do! I’ve had it for years!”
Nearly eleven, Vince could have told her. Ever since he’d given it to her for their first Easter together. But he held that information back. He didn’t want her to think there was some special reason she’d been wearing the necklace or why it was the only single thing she remembered, other than her age. He didn’t want to think it himself.
“That’s good. That means your concussion is healing. Are you still having headaches?”
She lifted a hand to her left temple. “There’s still a bump and a cut, but the headaches seem to be gone.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her studying the necklace dangling from her fingers. A confused frown marred her forehead, and he realized she was straining to remember the significance of the little cross.
In a soft, thoughtful voice, she asked, “I wonder why I remember this necklace being mine. What does it mean?”
He stared straight ahead, and a feeling of tremendous loss washed over him.
“Probably that you like silver. And that you have a deep faith.”
“Hmm. Maybe so.” She fastened the chain at the back of her neck, then adjusted the cross in the hollow of her throat. “There. I have a piece of my old life back. And it tells me everything is going to get better.”
Better for her. Yes, Vince wanted that very much. As for himself, nothing could get better. He was stuck in a past that she’d totally forgotten.
The next day Geena was sitting on the couch, staring at a credit card and set of truck keys lying on the coffee table. Before he’d gone to work this morning, Vince had left the items there with the suggestion she drive downtown and do some shopping for herself. When he’d asked if she remembered how to drive, she’d assured him she’d not forgotten. She’d even promised to be extra safe while driving his truck.
Yet, two hours later, she’d not made a move to pick up the card or the keys. Instead, she’d turned the television on and off, gone outside and walked around the house three times, then tried to read a magazine she’d found lying on the bar in the kitchen. But the subject of lawmen and the tactical gear they used on the job was hardly her taste of entertainment.
No doubt when Vince returned home, he’d want to know why she hadn’t accepted his offer to replenish some of her lost things. Especially when she desperately needed a change of clothes and some toiletries. But something about spending his money made her feel like a leech.
With a mental groan, she started to reach for the television remote when the sound of the doorbell caused her to pause.
Since Vince worked during the day, she didn’t expect he had people stopping by just to say hello. More than likely someone was going door to door trying to sell or promote something.
Leaving the couch, she walked out to the foyer and, for the sake of caution, peered into the peephole on the door.
“Marcella!” She practically yelled the nurse’s name as she quickly jerked open the door. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you! Please, come in. What in the world are you doing here? I’m not supposed to need a nurse’s care!”
Laughing, the red-haired nurse stepped into the foyer. She was carrying a large denim tote in one hand and a smaller canvas bag in the other. “I’m not here as a nurse. I’m here as a friend.”
Geena gave the woman a grateful hug. “This
