his way and reached for the bottle. “Childproof cap,” he grumbled. “More like adultproof.”
“Um, Collin. You don’t have any pajamas on.”
He glanced up in time to see her backing away, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Sorry.” He retrieved the blanket and covered his legs before remembering it was his wife who stood before him. “I never wear pajamas. I guess you still think you’re Jazz?”
“Who else would I be?” She rubbed her forehead with her hand. “Don’t answer.”
Collin lined up the arrows on the cap and squeezed. The lid popped off in his hand. He shook out two caplets and handed them to her.
She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed, without water.
He could feel the edges in his own throat. “Don’t you want something to drink with those?”
“No, I never do. I learned how to take pills without liquid in Mexico. Good water is precious there.”
“Mexico?” He felt like he’d been surprised by the prosecution. “When did you go there?”
“Long time ago, before my parents died.”
“Your mom is still alive—or, rather, Louisa’s mom is.”
“No. I’m sure my mother is dead.”
He had to admit this new Louisa fascinated him with her imagination. He patted the cushion next to him. “Want to sit and tell me about Mexico while you wait for the pills to kick in?”
Hesitation flashed across her face. Shades of Louisa not wanting to be near him? Then she surprised him by plopping down next to him.
“My parents were missionaries.” She yawned and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I was about twelve when we went there.”
He couldn’t picture Louisa’s mother as a missionary. She seemed cold to him, almost uncaring—even when it came to her daughter. “Can you speak Spanish?”
“Sí.” She tilted her head and rested against his shoulder.
Collin blinked in surprise. The only Spanish Louisa knew came from Sesame Street . Of course, she hadn’t really spoken the language. One word everyone knew hardly counted as conversational. She relaxed against him. It felt nice to have her there again, her Eve to his Adam.
“I saw the wedding photo in the bedroom. It’s my face, but I don’t remember any of this,” she said. “Were we happy together?”
He realized she couldn’t know the depth of pain her question caused. He didn’t know how to answer it. If he said yes, what if her memory returned in the morning? But if he said no, she might demand to leave him right now. He couldn’t take that chance. Even if she never remembered being Louisa, he didn’t want to lose her.
He glanced over, and her eyes were closed. Her smooth, even breathing eased his anxiety. Saved by the sandman! He wouldn’t have to answer her question. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Five
Sounds of scurrying squirrels outside the door woke Jazz from an excellent dream she thought would make a great novel. Keeping her eyes closed to contain the idea, she reached for the pad of paper and pen she kept on her nightstand. Her hand slid across the smooth surface—nothing. It wasn’t where she’d left it yesterday.
“Stop it. It’s mine!”
A high-pitched voice shattered her idea, and the fabulous plot flew out of her mind. That wasn’t a squirrel. As much as she wanted to keep them closed, she wrenched open her eyes. Bright sunshine caught the edge of a crystal frame throwing colorful rainbows across the duvet cover. It held a photo of three smiling children and a dog—a big dog. She slammed her eyelids closed again and clicked her heels together under the covers like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz . She wanted to go home!
She peeked through her lashes. The room remained the same. Maybe it only worked with ruby slippers. Or maybe she was still dreaming? She plucked a hair from her arm and winced at the pain. “Nope, not residing in Neverland.” She picked up the frame and tilted it to study their small faces. What did that man say his kids’ names were? Something boring, she remembered,
“Um, Collin. You don’t have any pajamas on.”
He glanced up in time to see her backing away, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Sorry.” He retrieved the blanket and covered his legs before remembering it was his wife who stood before him. “I never wear pajamas. I guess you still think you’re Jazz?”
“Who else would I be?” She rubbed her forehead with her hand. “Don’t answer.”
Collin lined up the arrows on the cap and squeezed. The lid popped off in his hand. He shook out two caplets and handed them to her.
She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed, without water.
He could feel the edges in his own throat. “Don’t you want something to drink with those?”
“No, I never do. I learned how to take pills without liquid in Mexico. Good water is precious there.”
“Mexico?” He felt like he’d been surprised by the prosecution. “When did you go there?”
“Long time ago, before my parents died.”
“Your mom is still alive—or, rather, Louisa’s mom is.”
“No. I’m sure my mother is dead.”
He had to admit this new Louisa fascinated him with her imagination. He patted the cushion next to him. “Want to sit and tell me about Mexico while you wait for the pills to kick in?”
Hesitation flashed across her face. Shades of Louisa not wanting to be near him? Then she surprised him by plopping down next to him.
“My parents were missionaries.” She yawned and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I was about twelve when we went there.”
He couldn’t picture Louisa’s mother as a missionary. She seemed cold to him, almost uncaring—even when it came to her daughter. “Can you speak Spanish?”
“Sí.” She tilted her head and rested against his shoulder.
Collin blinked in surprise. The only Spanish Louisa knew came from Sesame Street . Of course, she hadn’t really spoken the language. One word everyone knew hardly counted as conversational. She relaxed against him. It felt nice to have her there again, her Eve to his Adam.
“I saw the wedding photo in the bedroom. It’s my face, but I don’t remember any of this,” she said. “Were we happy together?”
He realized she couldn’t know the depth of pain her question caused. He didn’t know how to answer it. If he said yes, what if her memory returned in the morning? But if he said no, she might demand to leave him right now. He couldn’t take that chance. Even if she never remembered being Louisa, he didn’t want to lose her.
He glanced over, and her eyes were closed. Her smooth, even breathing eased his anxiety. Saved by the sandman! He wouldn’t have to answer her question. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Five
Sounds of scurrying squirrels outside the door woke Jazz from an excellent dream she thought would make a great novel. Keeping her eyes closed to contain the idea, she reached for the pad of paper and pen she kept on her nightstand. Her hand slid across the smooth surface—nothing. It wasn’t where she’d left it yesterday.
“Stop it. It’s mine!”
A high-pitched voice shattered her idea, and the fabulous plot flew out of her mind. That wasn’t a squirrel. As much as she wanted to keep them closed, she wrenched open her eyes. Bright sunshine caught the edge of a crystal frame throwing colorful rainbows across the duvet cover. It held a photo of three smiling children and a dog—a big dog. She slammed her eyelids closed again and clicked her heels together under the covers like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz . She wanted to go home!
She peeked through her lashes. The room remained the same. Maybe it only worked with ruby slippers. Or maybe she was still dreaming? She plucked a hair from her arm and winced at the pain. “Nope, not residing in Neverland.” She picked up the frame and tilted it to study their small faces. What did that man say his kids’ names were? Something boring, she remembered,
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