A Season Of Miracles Page 5

  How, now, could he give up the chance to regain a real life?

  The answer was simple. He couldn’t. Not yet. But that left him with the task of convincing a woman who no longer cared for him—for reasons he couldn’t even remember—that she should take the time to reintroduce him to the life he’d once had. His only hope of doing that lay in refusing her the divorce she wanted so badly until she’d complied with his demands.

  And, truth be told, he wasn’t averse to spending more time in the company of Devon Grayson. She was an attractive woman.

  What had happened to them? he wondered. He wished he could recall something that would give him some clue as to why she wanted a divorce. But he knew the wish was useless On a personal level, it was as though he’d been born two-and-a-half years ago.

  He rolled the name Geoff around in his mind There was no spark of connection. Sighing in defeat. he once again closed his eyes against the blackness of the room, seeking sleep He was just beginning to doze when the sound of a stair creaking startled him and his eyes flew open. For an instant he stared at the night-darkened room in confusion.

  Devon! She wouldn’t be leaving, would she? Sneaking away?

  Rising quickly, he moved silently to the door and opened it a crack Devon, clad in a peach satin nightgown and wrap, was making her way stealthily down the stairs.

  Well, at least it didn’t look as though she was trying to leave. “Is something wrong?” he asked before he’d fully contemplated the effect his voice coming out of the darkness would have.

  Devon gasped, jumped, and barely managed to catch herself as she turned to face him. “Wh-what?” she gasped

  He winced mentally. If he hadn’t been naked he might have rushed out to steady her but, at the moment, that simply wasn’t an option “Sorry about that,” he murmured through the crack in the door.

  She nodded, but her hand was still hovering over her chest as though to contain her leaping heart. “It’s all right,” she returned. “What did you say? Before, I mean?”

  “I asked if something was wrong?”

  She shook her head “No, I just couldn’t sleep and I thought I’d heat up some milk, if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not. Go on down. I’ll join you in a moment.” Jack closed his bedroom door and paused, staring into the darkness as he contemplated the sight of Devon in her peach satin nightclothes “Very nice,” he murmured, and then he flicked on the light and dressed.

  Devon had just put a small pot of milk on the stove when she glanced up to see Geoff leaning against the kitchen doorway watching her. “Hi,” she said with a faint smile

  He nodded slightly but said nothing as his gaze swept her from head to toe, lingering on her bare feet for so long that she felt the urge to try to hide them beneath the hem of her robe. Then slowly, torturously, his gaze moved back up her body until his eyes met hers and locked. She swallowed. There was so much heat in the dark green depths of his irises that they positively smoldered. And, for the first time in a very long time, Devon felt...beautiful. More than beautiful. She felt irresistible and seductive, though she’d certainly not had seduction in mind.

  She swallowed nervously, very conscious of the fact that somehow she had to break this spell. Clearing her throat, she gestured vaguely toward the pot on the stove. “Did you want some?” she asked a bit huskily

  “Want some?” he repeated.

  She indicated the pot on the stove more pointedly. “Some warm milk?”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure. Thanks.” And he moved into the room with a lazy stride. “I’ll get some cups. Do you want some chocolate in yours?”

  She frowned slightly. “No, thank you. Chocolate has caffeine in it, doesn’t it? At least that’s what I was told.”

  He shrugged. “The little bit of caffeine it may have doesn’t bother me as much as the idea of warm milk without some flavoring does.”

  “Oh.” She smiled. She could have told him that he used to drink it without flavoring on occasion, but saw no point

  A minute later she poured warm milk into the two cups Geoff had set on the counter, and then he carried the cups to the table. It felt strangely familiar to sit with him like this, and yet at the same tune somehow awkward. Rather like two friends who had grown apart over time and no longer knew what to say.

  He sipped his chocolate. “So,” he said a second later, “since we’re up anyway, would you be averse to a little conversation?”

  She considered him and all they had to discuss. “No, I guess not. As long as we don’t talk about anything contentious until I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  “All right. I guess I can agree to that.” He offered her a fleeting smile that, for an instant, totally transformed his hard features. But, all too soon, it was gone. “Tell me about Kelowna and Future-Tech. Why did I start the company there rather than in Vancouver?”

  Devon considered “Cost primarily, I guess The shipping is a bit more expensive. I suppose, but commercial property was more reasonably priced. At least it was at the time that we bought.” She went on to describe the company he’d built, the people he’d hired, and the dreams he’d once had of eventually breaking into the U.S market with his security systems. “You were even looking at manufacturing systems for the home secunty market, designing smart houses and that kind of thing.”

  Geoff stared frowningly into his cup for a moment. “It’s a lot to digest.”

  “Yes. I suppose it is ”

  He lifted his shoulders slightly as though shrugging off the concerns associated with a company he didn’t remember “What about the house we designed? Tell me about it.”

  She sipped her warm milk. “It’s a two-story on a hillside overlooking the city and, in the distance, Lake Okanagan. It has a beautiful cedar deck in the back, lots of trees on a large lot, and a studio for me to work in just behind the garage Actually, if I had it to do over again, I’d make the studio larger because, as it is, I’ve ended up using a good portion of the garage as well. But.. I love the house the way it is.”

  She shrugged, seeking the words to continue. How did you describe home to a man who no longer remembered it? “Inside... well, it’s not perfect by any means. I’ve never been a perfect housekeeper. And the children certainly aren’t perfect little angels. They’re just kids.” She smiled, remembering. “You used to come in the door from work almost every day and call Tyler to pick up his coat and hang it in the closet, yet he never learned. Even now, he tends to just throw it on the floor in the entrance when he comes in

  “Britanny loves to make popcorn, but she sometimes forgets to watch it closely enough so that there are often fluffy white pieces of popcorn someplace on the kitchen floor. Both kids’ rooms look as though they’ve been burglarized, but, in complete contrast to Tyler, Bntanny can find anything in her room in seconds. Tyler’s room is more like a black hole. I’m sure it sends socks to another dimension.”

  Geoff smiled Encouraged, Devon continued. They talked of inconsequential things, things that made a family a family, and then Devon stifled a yawn.

  “It looks like the milk’s working,” he commented.

  She nodded and checked her cup. It was empty “I think I’d better go back to bed while I feel tired”

  “Sure, you go ahead I’ll see you in the morning ”

  Jack watched her leave the room and then drained the dregs of his hot chocolate. He still didn’t know why Devon wanted a divorce, and her demand that they avoid discussing anything contentious had prevented him from asking What confused him was that he couldn’t see himself wanting to divorce her unless there was a side to her he hadn’t seen She was beautiful, intelligent, and interesting. Still, he didn’t know everything yet Hell, he supposed when it came down to it, he didn’t know much of anything. Yet despite the fact that he felt a bit overwhelmed by all he had heard, he was not put off. Not discouraged in the least.

  And not tired. Dammit!

  Still he knew he’d need his sleep so, after setting their cups in
the sink, he made his way up the stairs, past the closed door of the guest room, and into his own room once more.

  Yet back in bed, he found himself staring into the darkness of his room again. Thoughts careened through his mind, delving obstinately into the memories of his recent past as he searched for clues to his present predicament.

  Bill had never said much about the period of time he’d cared for Jack before he’d regained consciousness. Jack had always assumed he’d been unconscious the entire time. But, now he couldn’t help wondering...what if he’d said something in his sleep? Maybe that something could help him piece together the fragments of his past.

  Had Bill ever said anything?

  Jack frowned into the darkness, remembering It had taken an entire month of care after he’d regained consciousness in Bill Johnson’s mountain cabin, before he had recovered to the point where he could actually leave Bill to his privacy. During that time, he discovered very little about Bill, and even less about himself Bill had been a veterinarian at one time. It was his expertise in that area that had prompted him to decide that Jack had a better chance of survival staying put than he would have being bounced and jounced over miles of mountain road in an attempt to reach a town with medical facilities. Thankfully, he’d been right. Beyond that, Jack knew almost nothing about the taciturn old man

  When it came to himself, Jack had come to realize he remembered more about the world around him than he recalled about his personal life He knew guns and how to use them although he didn’t particularly enjoy hunting. He loved to fish though and was fairly accomplished at it. He even knew how to hammer a nail and repair a leaky faucet Neither had it taken long for him to regain the ability to argue environmental and conservation issues, politics, and religion, and he’d done so, at times, from morning to night. But as far as he could recall, Bill had never mentioned him saying so much as a single name while he was unconscious, nothing that could have given him a sense of identity. And, knowing his situation, surely the old man would have said something if there’d been anything to tell. He’d retained only one tiny fragment of personal memory, and that had been of the attractive blond woman whose picture Bill had found in his wallet when he’d discovered him.

  Holly Loring The feelings associated with Holly had been especially strong.

  Jack scowled into the darkness as he was left wondering now about the depths of those feelings. He’d thought them the legitimate feelings of a man for his wife. Now...he didn’t know. Had he been having an affair with his best friend’s wife? Was that, perhaps, the root of the trouble between Geoff and Devon?

  Until today, the back of the photograph in Spencer’s wallet had seemed to reinforce his feelings, for the words All my love, Holly, had been inscribed on the flip side in a neat feminine hand. Now, of course, he knew those words had not been meant for him, but for Spencer.

  Nevertheless, Holly haunted his dreams and his thoughts on a regular basis, her picture flashing into his mind without warning. Holly laughing, trying to snap him with a tea towel while they did dishes together. Holly crying as she stood at his side while they watched a coffin being lowered into the ground. Holly in her wedding gown, smiling, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she faced him. He had thought the wedding had been theirs, assumed her to be his wife. Now he realized he must simply have been remembering fragments of Holly’s wedding to Spencer.

  Abruptly the memory he most hated sliced into his thoughts with the piercing impact of shrapnel. A vision of Holly as he believed he had last seen her her blond hair streaked with blood, her beautiful green eyes sightless and lifeless; her lips cold and blue. She stared at him accusingly from the shadows of his own mind.

  Jack bolted upright to click on the bedside lamp as his chest swelled with agonizing pain. The urge to fight, to crush something became almost unbearably strong. “Dammit to hell!” He dragged his hand down his face and then rubbed his scalp with both hands, closing his fists around clumps of hair, tugging on them as though inducing pain there could lessen the pain in his heart.

  Then, with a sigh, he opened the drawer of his bedside table and withdrew her picture A smiling, happy Holly stared back at him.

  There was one thing he knew for certain he had loved Holly Lonng. Her death still hurt, after all this time. Whether that love had been the platonic love of friendship or something more, he didn’t know.

  What did that mean for him? For his future?

  What if he had been responsible for Holly’s death? For Spencer’s? Had the crash occurred through some fault of his? Perhaps it wasn’t the blow to his head that had caused his loss of memory as the doctors concluded Maybe he couldn’t remember because some part of him couldn’t bear to remember.

  His thoughts skittered away from the idea, looking for someone or something else to blame for his suffering. But, it was like looking into a void, for there was no one there. No name No face. No memory. With the exception of old Bill Johnson and the fragmented memories of Holly, he had no recollection of anyone that he had known prior to his arrival in Northridge.

  Needing to move, to dispel the awful restless tension within him, Jack rose, heedless of his nakedness, to pace the room. Sleep would be a long time coming this night

  It was eight o’clock the next morning when Jack awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon Late for him; he was usually up at six. After a hasty but bracing shower, he was about to head downstairs the way he always did in the mornings: barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but his jeans, when he remembered his guest and paused long enough to shrug on a shirt and don a pair of socks. Halfway down the stairs, it occurred to him that, if they had been married, his concession to modesty was probably unnecessary, Devon had undoubtedly seen him wearing much less.

  The thought was a bit disconcerting

  When he reached the kitchen, he halted in the doorway to observe Devon She was wearing the same peach satin wrap and nightgown she’d worn earlier. Her face was completely devoid of makeup and her long hair was slightly mussed from her night’s sleep. Yet, she looked...delicious.

  Turning to grasp the egg carton that she’d placed on the counter, she caught sight of him and jumped slightly “Oh! Good morning. Um..” She flushed slightly in apparent embarrassment, and Jack found her heightened color intriguing. “I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep so I came down to make coffee and I saw the bacon, and, well, I was hungry ”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t mind.” He wondered why she was so nervous “I told you to make yourself at home.”

  She nodded. “Good. Um, I’m sorry I’m not dressed. I was going to go for a quick shower and get dressed as soon as I got the bacon broiling, but when I looked upstairs you were using it, so...I’ll just go after breakfast if that’s all right.”

  “Sure, that’s fine” He moved into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and then leaned back against the counter to observe her. Why would she think he’d care if she wasn’t dressed? Were the truth to be told, he liked that peach wrap of hers better than a pair of jeans any day. It didn’t reveal any more—probably less—but it was softer. Sexier. He noticed a nervous pulse pounding in her throat, and, as she mixed up the eggs for an omelette, her hands trembled. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked.

  Releasing the fork with which she’d been beating the eggs, she dropped her hands to the countertop and closed her eyes long enough to take a deep breath. Then, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, she turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, Geoff. I’d hoped it wasn’t obvious, but this is just so awkward for me. I keep forgetting that, to you, I’m a stranger. I mean it seemed pretty natural for me to come down and start breakfast this morning...until I remembered that you don’t know me anymore. And then I started wondering how you’d feel about it and other things, and...I don’t want to be presumptuous, so—”

  “Devon—” He interrupted her rapid flow of words.

  “Yes?”

/>   “I understand. Don’t worry about it. Yes, you are a stranger to me, but that will change. And, as far as breakfast is concerned, I certainly don’t mind not having to eat my own cooking. Just relax. Okay?”

  She sighed and some of the tension left her shoulders. “I’ll try.”

  “Good. I’ll make some toast to go with the omelette,” he said, changing the subject.

  Jack followed Devon’s lead, speaking only of inconsequential things as they enjoyed a companionable breakfast—Devon’s omelette was delicious. Having cleared the table and started a fresh pot of coffee brewing, he was just about to broach the subject of their marriage when there was a knock at the door.

  Devon tensed. “Oh, heavens! If you’re getting company already I’d better get upstairs to shower and dress.” And, before Jack could think of anything to say, she was gone.

  The knock came again. Frowning slightly, wondering who it could be this early in the morning, Jack answered it. He was stunned to see one of the local Mounties standing there. He knew him by sight as Sergeant Tom Kane, but they’d never spoken. Jack normally avoided cops, although he had spoken to one of Kane’s colleagues the night of the explosion. In that instance, it had been unavoidable.

  In his early-to-mid-thirties, Kane was tall, with Nordic blue eyes, sun-bleached blond hair and an athlete’s physique. The kind of guy women got all flustered around and men wanted with them, not against them, in a brawl.

  “Jack Keller?”

  Jack nodded shortly. In a fraction of a second, all his paranoia returned. Maybe he was Spencer. Maybe Devon, if that was her real name, had come here to entrap him. Maybe the two years he’d spent avoiding any and all association with the law had been for naught, and this man was here to arrest him.

  “I’m Sergeant Kane. I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?”