Mind of Her Own Read Free Page B

confused. His gut clenched. She really didn’t know who she was. “Never mind, it’s not important. Once you get home, I’m sure you’ll be back to normal.”
    “Go find your wife. Maybe she’s in the next room.” She waved her hand at him as if to dismiss him. The diamonds on her finger caught the overhead light and winked at him.
    Collin grasped her hand out of the air. He felt a tug at his heart as she struggled to pull away from him. “Wait. Look at your hand. See, you have a wedding ring; it belonged to my great-grandmother.” He traced it with his finger. “Honey, you’re not a writer. And you live with us in Hazel, Illinois.”
    She brought her hand close to her face and inspected the ring as if she had never seen it before. She jerked her face toward his, and comprehension of the plural word rode across her face. “Us? How many people make an us ?”
    “You, me, and . . .”
    She tapped her lower lip with two fingers as she concentrated on the information he was giving her.
    “. . . the kids.” He leaned back in the chair, confident she would remember the children.
    Louisa splayed her hand against her chest. “Kids? What kids?” she squealed as if he’d said she lived with a rowdy bunch of sailors. “I think I had better call Kristen now.”
    Collin grew even more confused, starting to doubt that he was looking at his own wife. Louisa loved those kids. How could she not remember them?
    “Who’s Kristen?” he managed to ask while massaging the back of his neck with his hand.
    “She is my assistant. She’s organized and knows all my plans. I can’t keep any deadline without her.” She peered around him. “Is there a phone in here?”
    Collin looked at the ceiling and counted the white tiles over the bed. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’ll call Kristen if you give me her number.”
    “I–I don’t know it,” Louisa stuttered. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she whipped her face away from him. The tension in his shoulders eased. This was a behavior he recognized. Louisa never let him see her cry.
    “Then for now, why don’t you come home with me?” He used the persuasive voice he typically saved for jurors.
    “But . . .”
    He placed his fingers on her lips to silence her. “I know you’re my wife, even if you can’t remember. So I’m thinking, why not come home with me and see if your memory returns?”
    “You really think I’m your wife?” She glanced at the door expectantly as if waiting for someone to come and tell him differently.
    “I know it. And I can prove it when we get home. I’ll show you our wedding pictures.” Louisa had organized their photos in matching albums. It wouldn’t take any effort to find the right year.
    “Did we get married on the beach?” Uncertainty shone on her face, but her voice held confidence that he would say yes.
    Collin took another punch to his gut. She didn’t remember the expensive wedding—her very own fairy-tale day, she’d called it. He shook his head. “No, Louisa. We were married in your parents’ church.”
    “Again, not me.” Louisa swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She grabbed her head with both hands. “Ouch. What happened to me, anyway?”
    “The indoor grill fell on your head.”
    She snorted. “Right, like I own one of those.”
    “You do. While you were getting it off the shelf, Cleo knocked you down.”
    “Is Cleo your daughter?”
    Collin rubbed his chin with his hand and held back a groan of frustration. “Cleo is our dog, a Great Dane, our gentle beast.”
    “Collin?” Her voice softened, and he leaned in closer to hear. “How many kids are there?”
    “Just the three,” he said.
    “Three? Just three? Do you—we—have a nanny?” She rubbed the side of her face with the palm of her hand.
    Collin laughed at the absurdity of the question, then sobered, realizing she didn’t know the answer to her own question. This could not be good. He summoned his patience before