THE HUSBAND SHE COULDN'T REMEMBER Page 5

  "Penny? Honey, what is it? What's wrong?"

  She shook her head slowly, pulling against his hands, but he only held on more tightly. And when it seemed she understood that he wouldn't release her, she stopped fighting and stood there, breathless, staring up at him.

  "Talk to me," he whispered. "Jesus, Penny, say something."

  Closing her eyes slowly, she lowered her head. "I don't know what you want me to say." Her voice was soft, ragged. "I don't know you."

  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you know me, Penny. What are you—?"

  "I don't know you!" Her head came up fast, her eyes meeting his and pinning them there. "And I don't know me. I don't know anything." Her lips trembled, and she caught them in perfect white teeth as her gaze slid past him to fix itself to the headstone again. "Is this … is this grave … is it supposed to be mine?"

  He was too shocked to do more than stand there and nod. His hands seemed to lose their strength and they fell to his sides. Penny moved past him to stand before the headstone, and as he turned to watch, her knees seemed to melt, and she sank into the thick green grass.

  "Penny Lane

  ," she whispered, her fingers tracing the letters chiseled into the granite. "That's almost funny."

  "Your parents thought it was beautiful," he told her. "So did I."

  Her hands moved, fingers pausing on the last name he'd given her, the one they shared. "Brand?" she asked, not looking at him.

  He didn't answer, not sure what to say. What was wrong with her? How could she claim not to know him? He moved closer, so close his legs brushed her back as she knelt there, and he watched her tracing the letters, heard her reading aloud in a soft monotone that held no emotion. "Beloved Wife." She turned and stared up at him. "Whose beloved wife was I?"

  Was? What the hell did she mean, was? "Mine," he told her, and he knew there was a wealth of power behind the word. "And you still are, Penny. I don't know what the hell is going on, how any of this could have happened or why you're pretending not to know me, but you're my wife."

  She nodded, taking his words in without flinching, looking as dispassionate as if she were listening to a news report. "And what about the 'beloved' part?"

  He winced. "How the hell can you ask me that?"

  Gripping the headstone, she got to her feet. Ben vaguely heard the backhoe rumble to a stop nearby, but chose to ignore it as Penny turned to face him squarely. The wind blew from behind her, so her curls danced over her face. "It's not such a strange question," she told him. "I woke from a coma in a clinic in a foreign country to be told I had no one. That my family had washed their hands of me. That they hadn't once called or visited or even shown an interest in knowing whether I was still alive, and I want to know why." She lowered her head, shaking it. "I guess you're right. It was a stupid question." Head still down, she started to walk past him.

  He panicked! She couldn't just leave, not now! Ben gripped her arms, twisting her toward him once more. "We thought you were dead," he nearly shouted. "Dammit, Penny, we buried you. We didn't know—I didn't know!"

  Blinking slowly, she stared at him, and her eyes were wary. "Is that the truth?"

  And gradually the blankness in her eyes finally got through to him. It was as if the love that used to glow from behind them had been extinguished, and Ben searched her face with his heart in his throat. "If you remembered what we had, you wouldn't be asking me that. My God, Penny, you don't, do you? You don't remember…"

  "No." She drew a breath, lifted her chin. "Until I heard you say it, I didn't even know my name."

  "But … but you came here. You found me again…" He didn't want to believe her.

  "I found an address on a piece of a crumpled envelope that had fallen into the lining of my jacket. That's all. I thought … if I came here … I might find some clue who I had been." Averting her eyes, she added, "A husband was the last thing I expected … let alone a grave with my name on a cold granite headstone."

  Ben looked down sharply, then glanced sideways at the backhoe operator, who was watching, looking confused and unsure what to do next.

  "Who's buried here?" Penny asked. "If it's not me, then who?"

  "I don't know," Ben whispered. "Someone who died in your car."

  Her eyes narrowed. So many times he'd seen her look at other people the way she was looking at him now. The old Penny, not the weak, dependent one she'd become once the illness took hold. She'd doubted everything anyone told her back then, until she had proof it was true. And more than once, he'd seen this very look trained on some person she believed to be lying to her.

  But he had never once seen that look trained on him. He'd never expected to.

  "Penny … honey, the car burned. The body…" He shook his head and didn't go on, seeing the horror appear in her eyes, though she hid it quickly. "Whoever it was, they were wearing … this." As he spoke he pulled the chain from beneath his shirt. Penny's wedding band dangled from the end. He'd worn it since the day he'd lost her.

  She touched it. Fingered the onyx and diamond chips. Frowned and tilted her head. Then let it go and squeezed her eyes hard as if her head hurt.

  "Penny?"

  She massaged her temples, scowling. "It'll be gone in a second," she said.

  "You should see a doctor. I can call—"

  "No!" Her eyes flew wide, and she took a step away from him. "No doctors. I won't. You try to make me, and I'll be out of here so fast you'll—"

  "Okay, okay. Take it easy." He spoke softly, frightened by the panic in her eyes, eager to gentle her, calm her, take care of her the way he used to. "Listen, no one's going to make you do anything you don't want to do, I promise you that. All right?"

  She eyed him, wary and ready, it seemed, to take flight at any moment.

  "I want you to come home with me," he said very softly. "To the ranch."

  "No." She looked panicky again.

  Ben pushed a hand through his hair and told himself to slow down or he'd scare her off. There were so many questions, so much he didn't know. But apparently there was a lot she didn't know, either. He had to be careful, go slow with her. He had to remember how fragile she was. How delicate.

  "That didn't come out just right," he told her. "It wouldn't be just you and me there. Half my family still lives there, and the other half are in and out constantly. Penny, it's where we lived before … before you went away." She was still shaking her head, backing away from him. God, she couldn't be afraid—not of him—could she? "Honey, if you're around familiar things, maybe you'll remember … something. Please, just think about it. It's your home, Penny. It's where you belong. I can take care of you there…"

  Her hips backed into the headstone, and she stopped, looking ready to run, maybe feeling a little trapped. "I … I … can't just pretend to be … to be her. I'm not … I'm not your wife anymore. God, I don't even know your name."

  It was as if she'd slapped him. He stopped and stood stock-still, aching and bleeding. He lowered his head, keeping his voice carefully level, hiding the pain and frustration and anger at whatever forces had taken her from him, robbed her of her memory. "Ben," he said softly. "My name is Ben. And I know that you can't just come home and pick up where you left off…" Where they'd left off, despite their love for each other, hadn't been such a good place anyway. She'd been so sick. She didn't look sick now, but he knew all too well that she had good days, as well as bad.

  "Just come home, Penny. You want to know about us—and I want to know what happened to you. And … and take care of you."

  "I can take care of myself."

  He flinched when she said it. But he knew better. She needed him.

  "We have plenty of rooms," he told her. "You'd have your own. You'd be a guest, Penny. Free to … come and go as you please." He chanced a peek at her face. She was studying his. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to shake her until she remembered him. He couldn't believe she could forget how it had been between them. God, she looked half-a
fraid of him now. And one hundred percent distrustful of everything he said.

  If she left him again, he would die. He'd lie down right on this spot with his heart torn out and never get up again. But if he told her that, she'd run screaming. He didn't want to push, to scare her off. So he'd use logic. Penny had always responded to logic.

  "Penny, what options do you have right now? You need me … you need us." He reached for her, then stopped when he heard a low growl from behind him, and looked down to see the funny-looking, filthy dog baring its teeth at him.

  "She's telling you that we don't need anyone," Penny said. "We've been getting by just fine on our own. All I want from you are some answers."

  The dog glanced up at Penny, then seemed to shrug her wide shoulders and returned to chewing the branch that looked as if a beaver on steroids had attacked it.

  Shaking his head, Ben focused on Penny once more. "Listen to me," he said. "You haven't been getting by fine on your own, Penny. You've had to steal. The Penny I know never would have done that unless she were desperate."

  "Maybe I'm not the Penny you knew." But she averted her eyes, and he knew she felt guilty for what she'd done to survive. He also knew she'd had no choice.

  "Of course you are," he told her gently. "Penny, I don't care about what you've done. Just listen to me, what I'm telling you makes sense. The police are looking for you. You know that, right?"

  She didn't admit it, but she didn't deny it, either. Just stared at him with huge brown mistrusting eyes.

  "If you go off on your own, they're going to catch up with you sooner or later. You'll be safe at the ranch. I promise, Penny, it will be okay. Give me some time, and I can take care of all of this. Just try it for a day or two. If you're not comfortable there, if you want to leave—"

  "One day."

  He blinked at the way she dropped the words.

  "I can only think about one day at a time right now. So one day. And you don't need to take care of anything for me. I just need to get my bearings, and then I'll find a job and—"

  "You'll do what?" He gaped at her. What the hell was she talking about finding a job for? She was sick—shouldn't even be alive right now. But the look in her eyes when he questioned her that way made him think twice. Just get her home. Deal with the rest later. "All right," he said finally, carefully. "Whatever you want, Penny. One day. Okay?"

  She nodded. "And the dog comes with me."

  Ben glanced down at the misshapen animal and the pile of sawdust at its feet that used to be a twig. "Dog, huh? I was wondering."

  "She's all I have in the world," she whispered.

  Ben felt a blade twist inside his heart. You have me, he thought. You always have … and always will.

  And damn, he'd never thought he'd see Penny with a dog.

  Aloud he said, "The dog's welcome. Blue could use a little companion." He crouched down and reached for the animal. "You wanna go for a ride, Stubby?"

  The dog crouched, too, and growled at him again.

  "Her name is Olive," Penny said. Then she bent and picked the mutt up, and the dog licked her face.

  Ben felt a rush of irrational jealousy, but quelled it. Stupid to be jealous of a dog. "You can go ahead to the truck," he told Penny. "I'll just tell Joe over here to take the backhoe home until further notice."

  She nodded, and turned to walk toward the pickup. Watching her go, Ben felt a moment of panic, and called after her. She turned, looking over her shoulder at him.

  "You won't run off again, will you?" Dammit, he sounded desperate. He hadn't meant to sound that way. Would she change her mind now about coming home with him? Would she bolt?

  She tilted her head to one side, probing him with her eyes. The little dog looked at Ben, too, then up at the woman who held her, whimpering softly. "I'll wait in the truck," Penny said slowly.

  Ben nodded. "I'll only be a minute."

  How could a man believe his wife had died if she hadn't? Penny wondered. How could a woman be cooped up in a clinic far away for over two years and her own husband never have a clue about it? Someone had to arrange it. Someone had to pay the bills. Maybe there was some reason for getting rid of her. For letting the world think she was dead and shipping her off to Dr. Barlow. Maybe there was some motive here for what he'd done.

  If there was, Ben Brand certainly wasn't showing it.

  She had never been more terrified in her life. Not of him. Not really. She was afraid of herself and of the strange emotions being near him evoked in her. It was not natural to sit beside a perfect stranger and try to imagine what it would feel like if he should kiss her. To keep remembering the feel of his strong arms around her, and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. It was too intimate, too personal. He'd been her husband. He knew things about her that she didn't even know about herself.

  And maybe he couldn't be trusted.

  Damn. It would be awfully easy to swallow every word he said, hook, line and sinker. To believe whatever he told her, because she'd never seen a more honest-looking pair of blue eyes. But she couldn't let herself do that. There were too many unanswered questions. When she got the answers, she wanted to be sure they were the correct ones.

  He was big, powerful, and there was a pit of emotions boiling inside that man, emotions he was keeping well contained. But despite all that, she didn't think he would hurt her. Not physically. In fact, he seemed to act as if he thought she'd break in a strong wind. He helped her into the truck, buckled the seat belt around her as if she were a child, kept asking if she was too cold or too warm. But there was a need burning in his eyes that frightened her in its intensity. She felt as if everything she said or did suddenly had enormous power. As if he were the fragile one here. As if the big blond man's very life hung from a thin thread—a thread she held between her fingers. Or so he wanted her to believe.

  Facing his family was frightening, too. A houseful of strangers who must know her nearly as well as he did. It might almost have been better if she could have been alone with him.

  She glanced across the pickup at him, recalling the power and passion in his embrace when he'd crushed her against him before. No. It was better to face the family. Being alone with him would certainly be far more dangerous.

  As he drove, Ben pointed out landmarks as they passed, looking at her expectantly each time as if he thought she was going to remember. The diner where he'd bought her dinner on their first date. The school where he'd carried her books. The scraggly pasture full of cows that had been the drive-in they'd frequented fifteen years ago. They passed another truck, and she recognized the driver and passenger as the two men who were with Ben in El Paso. The dark, smaller one gaped, wide-eyed as they passed, and the driver stared so long he wound up on the shoulder throwing up dust. Ben motioned at them to follow, and soon the big truck was pulling a U-turn and coming up behind them.

  More people to face. How could she do it? All these strangers who knew so much about her, while she knew absolutely nothing about any of them. She felt naked, and blindfolded, and surrounded by a crowd of people she couldn't trust. Damn.

  "It'll be okay," Ben said softly. "They love you. They all love you, Penny. They're your family, too."

  "Loved," she said. "Past tense. And not me, but the woman I was. They don't even know me." She lowered her head. "How can they, when I don't know myself?"

  He looked at her strangely. He couldn't understand. How could she expect him to? Ollie crawled onto her lap, sat facing her and lowered her head to Penny's shoulder. Ollie understood. She hugged the dog close and lowered her head to let the dirty fur absorb her tears and at the same time hide them from the stranger beside her.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

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  Ben pulled into the driveway of the ranch, beneath the arch, and stopped in front. There were already several vehicles parked there, and the other truck pulled in behind them. She looked up only briefly before hiding her face in Ollie's fur again. So many people. "You're scared,
" Ben said.

  She shook her head against warm fur. She could already hear the screen door banging, and knew people were piling out of the house onto that wide front porch, gaping at her. That pickup truck's doors slammed, too, and she felt the eyes of its passengers searing her. She wanted to curl into a dark corner and hug her dog until they all went away. "I'm not scared," she lied.

  "We can turn around and leave if you want," Ben said. "Or I can make them all leave. It's up to you. Just tell me what you want. Penny?"

  She lifted her head and stared down into Ollie's brown eyes. "You wouldn't run, would you, Olive?" she asked. "No, you'd dive in headfirst and come up with a juicy bone in the process." She sniffed, grated her teeth and thought there was no better way to learn about her past—find out what had happened to her and who was involved—than to begin meeting the suspects. "Let's just get this over with," she said.

  Ollie barked as if in approval. Ben was watching her, looking a bit hurt, maybe because she spoke to the dog and all but ignored him. Maybe he wanted to help her through all this. But he couldn't. He didn't even know her.

  She grasped the door handle, shoved it open and got out. Ollie leaped to the ground and waited for her, then stayed at her side as she made her way around the vehicle and faced the crowd of people who stood on the porch. Ben came close to her other side, and though he was a stranger to her, it did bolster her somehow when his big warm hand closed around her small one. His grip was strong but gentle at the same time.

  "Penny?" a female voice whispered. "Oh, my Gawd, Penny!" A tall, slender young woman with short-cropped auburn hair bounded down the porch steps, and in the blink of an eye Penny found herself wrapped tight in her arms. The girl was crying, hugging her hard, kissing her face. She stood back a little, her hands smoothing Penny's hair back, her big eyes wide and wet and happy. "I can't believe it. Penny, you're home! Oh, you're home." Her watery smile trembled.