the house, she didn’t know what or whom she was expecting to see. In the twilight only a peaceful scene of water, sand and sky greeted her eyes. She saw that Andrew’s house was nestled in a small cove isolated from other structures whose roofs she could glimpse in both directions some distance away.
Andrew was puzzled by the visible signs of a struggle going on inside her as she stood there, her eyes searching in every direction. Had she expected to see something or someone? She was certainly attractive enough to have a man chasing after her. Had she been fleeing from a lovers’ quarrel when she got lost in the storm? By this time, the poor guy was probably frantic from her disappearance.
Andrew suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth. This kind of speculation didn’t sit well with him. Her reluctance to go back and face the situation gave him the feeling that she was just using him.
He said rather stiffly, “Have a seat. I’m sorry it isn’t more. I’m afraid my bachelor life is lacking in the finer things of life.”
She shot him a quick look as she sat down on the bench facing him. He’d never used that tone with her before, and she knew what was coming. She had over-stayed her welcome. Her stomach tightened. If only he would give her a little more time to remember why she had a deep fear of someone knowing where she was. Any story she’d been able to think of had too many holes in it to convince him to let her stay. If she lied about being on vacation alone, her belongings would have to be somewhere. No doubt, he would offer to drive her back to her lodgings, and then what?
Sitting across the table from her, Andrew watched her pick at her chicken and salad, really not eating but just going through the motions. Was she putting on an act? He’d been taken in by manipulating women when he first came to the city, but he’d learned his lesson. Hadn’t he? Looking at her appealing femininity, he wasn’t sure.
He set down the chicken leg he’d been eating, wiped his hands and then leaned toward her. “I think it’s time you leveled with me, Trish, don’t you?”
She deliberately took a drink of water, delaying the moment when she’d have to speak. She wished now that she’d told him the truth in the beginning, but she’d been too frightened to think clearly. Like a hunted animal, a deep protective instinct had warned to protect herself.
“All right. Let me guess,” he said when she was slow in answering. “You’re running away from some unpleasant situation that you don’t want to face.”
“Maybe.” I don’t know. I don’t know.
“Maybe?” he repeated, with a disbelieving edge to his voice. “Either you are or you aren’t, Trish. Frankly, I suspect that some man is beside himself wondering where you are.”
“Do you think so?” she asked almost in a whisper.
The anguish that flashed across her face made him soften his tone even though he was getting impatient with her evasiveness. “Trish, I’m thankful that I was around when you needed rescuing, but hiding out here isn’t going to work for you—or for me, either.”
“I know.” She sighed. “You’ve been more than patient, and I don’t know what I would have done if…if you hadn’t found me.”
“You’ve got to face up to whomever, or whatever you’re running away from, Trish.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Why don’t you tell me about what was going on?”
She laced her fingers through his, drawing strength from the contact. Maybe he would accept the truth. Or would he just think she was making everything up in an effort to wring enough sympathy from him so he’d let her stay?
“What is it, Trish? I have to know.”
She drew in a deep breath to settle the quivering in her chest. “The truth is that I don’t know who I am. And I need a little time to figure it out.”
His mouth quirked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or let his irritation show. “That’s the metaphysical question for this generation, isn’t it? Who am I? I can’t believe how many people get on this quest—”
“That isn’t what I mean.” She jerked her hand away from his. Her eyes flashed as she said each word with loud emphasis, “Don’t you understand? I don’t know who I am.”
Andrew simply stared at her.
“I’ve lost my memory. I remember your rescuing me from the beach. But that’s all. Nothing before that.”
“I see.” An inner voice warned him to be careful. “You have amnesia.” Skepticism laced the statement.
Trish could tell from his tone that he didn’t believe her. He obviously thought she was trying to put something over on him. Her hopes that he would understand took a sickening dive. Any lie she could have dreamed up would have had a better response from him than the truth.
“Yes, I have amnesia,” she repeated firmly.
“Well, that is a problem, isn’t it?” he said as if he were addressing a child who had just told a whopper of a lie.
“Don’t patronize me,” she flared. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t remember anything from the moment I opened my eyes and saw your face bending over me.”
“But you said your name was Trish,” he protested. “Did you just make that up?”
She hesitated, and then answered thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. The name just kind of floated up and seemed familiar.”
“And you don’t remember anything else?”
“I know I have a blue-and-yellow cosmetic bag with butterflies on it. I remember that,” she said triumphantly.
He watched as her blue-green eyes lost their flatness. There was such joyful thankfulness in her face when she said she had remembered the bag that he had a hard time believing it was just an act. Still, it was a stretch to accept this bizarre story as the truth.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” She sighed, watching his brown eyes narrow as he looked at her, and deep lines furrow his forehead.
“Frankly, I don’t know whether I do or not,” he answered honestly. He’d heard of retrograde amnesia when a person would remember things after a trauma and nothing before. Clearly she’d been in a state of shock when he’d found her on the beach, but keeping such a frightening state to herself didn’t seem rational. Was this very appealing woman cleverly manipulating him to her own ends?
“I’m telling you the truth,” she insisted, reading the skepticism in his expression.
“You have to admit that you’ve been rather adept at keeping your loss of memory from me. I mean, I would have thought you would have told me right away.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…because I had to protect myself any way I could.” Her gaze dragged his face with pleading intensity. “Deep down I knew that I was being threatened by something or someone. By keeping quiet, I was just trying to protect myself—and you—until I could remember and know what to do.”
Andrew’s thoughts whirled like dry leaves
