A Time to Love Read Free Page B

memory.
    But for what? she asked herself. For what?

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    R aspberries," said Jenny, then she stopped, shaking her head."No, strawberries." Frustrated, she rubbed her temples. "No, that's not the word."
    Tears sprang to her eyes, and her lips trembled. Unable to look at him, she stared at her plate, feeling humiliated. Days like this, she wondered if she would ever get better.
    "It'll come," he said quietly. "Don't force it. Give yourself time to heal."
    She looked up at him, saw the kindness in his eyes, then looked away. "It's like wires get crossed in my brain and I can't get the right word out."
    "Give yourself time to heal," he repeated.
    "Easy for you to say," she muttered.
    He smiled. "Did you know what my Annie calls them? Boo berries."
    "Annie?"
    "My youngest. She's had some trouble talking."
    "It's taking forever." Frustration warred with despair. "I can't go on camera looking like this, talking like this. Having trouble with my memory."
    Matthew got up to get more coffee for them. She caught the scent of hay, of horses, of the outdoors. It was a pleasant, familiar smell of man and work.
    "You look fine to me," he told her.
    Her hand went to her cheek before she could stop herself. She shook her head. "You're just being nice."
    "Eat," he said. "You're as tiny as a sparrow. Frail, too."
    I've never been described that way, she thought, stirring her tea. A memory came to her, a cloudy one, of being carried through the cold and dark night. There had been movement and a voice she couldn't quite place and yet she had felt safe.
    Looking up, she found he was watching her. "I'm sure I was heavier than a little bird when you carried me in."
    He shook his head. "You don't weigh much more than my older daughter Mary." "David could have helped me."
    "The Englischer wanted to, but he had on city shoes. The walkway was slippery. I feared he'd take a fall and hurt you both."
    "You should have woken me. I could have walked," she repeated. Then she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I must sound ungrateful. Thank you for helping last night."
    Matthew nodded. "Sometimes we need to let someone care for us."
    He glanced in the direction of her grandmother's bedroom, hesitated, then looked at Jenny. "Phoebe has faith that God is watching over you, but it's good that you came. I think she needs to take care of you."
    Her grandmother hurried back then and gave Matthew a list and some money. She insisted on filling a metal thermos with hot chocolate for him and Annie, saying it was a cold morning and they might want a hot drink.
    He got to his feet and put on his outdoor things. As he opened the door to leave, he glanced back at Jenny. And then he was gone.
    "You haven't eaten much," Phoebe said when she came to sit at the table again.
    "Oh, it's not your cooking," Jenny said quickly. "I just haven't had much of an appetite."
    Making an effort, Jenny spooned some of the preserves on her bread and bit in. The sweet taste of blueberries flooded her mouth, flooded her memory.
    A hot summer day. Her fingers stained blue and dripping juice from picking the bucket of berries in her hand. A young blond man, his eyes as blue as the berries, standing there looking at her and laughing.
    Matthew.
    And her first kiss, so innocent and so sweet.
    No wonder he had looked at her the way he had, as if he wanted her to remember something. She hoped she hadn't hurt his feelings.
    Her grandmother was speaking. Jenny pulled herself back from the memories that once started, wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
    "You're looking pale. Maybe after breakfast you should lie down on the sofa before the fire."
    Her back was aching, and the headache was beginning to be one she couldn't ignore. "I just hate being like this. I want to get back to normal."
    "Patience, Jenny. This will take time."
    "I wish I had your faith that everything is going to be all right," Jenny said as she walked slowly toward the sofa in the living room.
    With a grateful sigh she sank