fingers, tucked it behind her ear so he could get a better look at the gash on her head. It had stopped bleeding at least. But it needed tending to. “Can you tell me who you are?”
“No.” There was that whisper again. Not quite as desperate, however. This time, tinged with a bit of anger. “I’ve been trying and trying, but I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She winced, then pressed a hand against the bridge of her nose. “All I have is this headache that won’t go away. There’s nothing else. Not in here.” She poked a not so gentle finger against her temple. “Why can’t I remember?”
“Okay, let’s not add to the damage.” He caught her hand and pressed it gently back to her side. “We’ll come back to that later. Sit back down. Let’s get you some more water.” He poured another glass and watched as she finished it. Ollie followed him to the sink and back, as if verifying what he was doing was for the best. Leo pulled a chair over so they were knee to knee. “Do you remember my name?”
“Leo. Your name is Leo. That’s Ollie.” She pointed to the dog.
“Nice that you didn’t get us confused.”
She smiled a little. “How can I not know who I am? It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know...anything.”
Shock. Trauma. And that bang on the head couldn’t have done much to help. “You will. You’ve had a shock. Something you aren’t able to process right now.” He held his hands out palm up, and after a moment she dropped hers into them. “How about for now I call you Jane?”
“Like Jane Doe?” She let out the most unladylike snort he’d ever heard. A sound that lightened his heart more than anything had in a long time. “That’s original.”
“My grandmother was the writer, not me.” Essie’s letters had been a continuous gift while he’d been working in Alaska. He still had them all bundled, no longer in his duffel, but on his dresser. “I didn’t get one ounce of her creativity. Is Jane okay?”
She shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”
“A rave review indeed,” Leo joked. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some eggs I can cook. And, um, some steaks. I bet you don’t eat steak much.” Given her slight figure, he’d bet she didn’t eat much of anything. A good summer breeze would probably blow her off the property.
“Eggs sound good. I can help.”
Leo glanced down at her ragged and broken nails, but given the high shine on that coral polish, he’d bet she’d had her share of manicures. “I’d prefer you didn’t. Not until we know what’s going on with that knock on your head. How about I run upstairs and see about finding you some clothes? Then you can take a shower and we’ll tend to that gash on your head. And your wrists.” He turned her hands over and tried not to wince at the angry welts, scrapes and cuts marring her skin. “I’m betting those feet of yours hurt a bit, too.”
“Not really.” She scrunched her toes into the wood floor. “They’re numb.”
He was afraid of that, but toward the end of summer she was less likely to end up with frostbite, something he’d become more than acquainted with up north. “All the more reason to get you into the shower. Sound okay?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes. Okay. Thank you, Leo.”
He led her to the bedroom closest to the kitchen, the small guest room his grandmother had always kept made up. It had its own small bathroom with an old-fashioned, claw-foot tub, pedestal sink and a corner shower stall he could never fit into. The bed was old, nothing fancy other than the simple wooden headboard, but serviceable and comfortable with its thick handmade quilt thrown over the double mattress. The added photographs of Leo and his family from various stages of the last twenty-seven years added to the homey feel. “Are you okay by yourself?”
“Yes.” Ah, now there was a genuine smile. One that sparked her previously dormant eyes as she looked up at him. “I’ll call if I need help.” She looked down at her ripped shirt. The frown was back. “Why can’t I remember what happened to me?”
“You will. Don’t push it,” Leo urged as he backed out of the room. “It’ll come, Jane. Whoever you are, whatever happened, you’ll remember. And we’ll deal with it together. Give me a few minutes to find you some clothes.”
He nearly stepped on Ollie when he turned to head upstairs. “Well, boy. Looks like we have company for a little bit. Hope that’s okay with you.”
Ollie chuffed as he circled Leo and sank to the floor, stretching across the doorway into Jane’s room.
“You let me know if she needs anything.”
Ollie blinked up at him and Leo sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
Today was definitely going to be one for the books.
If only the water could wash away the fear.
Jane—she didn’t feel like a Jane—scooped warm water into her hands and pushed it over her tangled hair. She turned one side of her face into the spray of the shower, then the other, grimacing as the gash on her head protested. Looking down, she saw the water turn dark, tinged with blood as it cascaded off her body, swirling into the drain as if taking what had happened to her with it.
But something had happened. Something she couldn’t remember. She tucked her arms tight around her waist. Whatever did happen had robbed her of her memory, and now she had no inkling of who or what she was.
It crossed her mind to bang her skull against the white tile wall in the hopes of jarring something loose, but she didn’t want to alarm Leo or Ollie.
Leo.
Jane moved deeper into the spray and let the water pound over her ears. Finding the barn last night had seemed like heaven on earth. A solitary floodlight had blinked on as she’d approached from the cover of the trees and she’d stopped, frozen as if caught in a spotlight. But the flash of light had given her enough to see by so she could squeeze through the open door. The night hadn’t cooled off much, but she couldn’t stop shivering as she’d made her way into the back corner, digging and pushing her way through the hay until she’d collapsed.
Jane had lost track of the miles she’d walked. And had no clue of the direction she’d come from. If anyone were to ask her where she’d been held, she’d never be able to tell them, other than that it was near a road that led...somewhere.
When she fell asleep, she’d fallen hard and deep, and hadn’t awakened until she’d heard Ollie’s bark cutting through the peaceful silence.
“Jane.” A gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door. She jumped and nearly slipped. “I’ve left some clothes for you to wear on the bed, okay?”
“Yes.” She gripped her fingers against the tiles. Leo. It was just Leo. Leo Slattery, who, for whatever reason, didn’t evoke that sense of unrestrained fear she’d been harboring since she awoke in that shed.
Leo with the kind, dark, soulful eyes. The slightly unkempt, slightly curly hair that tempted
