“What kind of ‘I’ll think about it’ do you mean?”
“What?”
“When Mama said she would think about it, she meant no. Nana B. meant she really would think about it. Which one do you mean?”
Jarrett bent and kissed her forehead. “I mean I’ll consider your request. But if Ariel stays, you have to feed her and take her for walks every day. And make sure she doesn’t chew on my shoes.”
Anna Jane giggled. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, he wondered what he’d done to deserve her affection.
Chapter Four
A riel looked out the window at the bright morning light. She was sick of staring into the mirror and trying to find something familiar. She’d spent more than an hour last night looking at her face from different angles, trying to catch a glimpse of something that might spark a memory. Instead all she’d generated was a massive headache and a feeling of desolation that had yet to go away.
Amnesia played well in the movies, but in real life it was very frightening to have one’s past disappear.
She glanced at the clock and frowned. It was nearly eight-thirty. In another half hour she would go downstairs and be returned to the hotel. If that’s where she’d come from. Her discomfort wasn’t from the thought of leaving. Jarrett had made it quite clear she wasn’t welcome here and, under the circumstances, she was pleased to be leaving. What upset her was there was still no news. She’d been so sure she would wake up to remember who she was. Barring that, she’d been certain Leona would deliver good news with breakfast. Parents who were distraught over her absence. A sibling or two who’d been frantic all night. A worried boyfriend.
She grimaced at the last thought, somehow knowing no boyfriend or husband had a place in her life right now. But she wouldn’t mind a sister or two.
Ariel turned to the bed. Leona had insisted she keep the resort wear she’d brought the previous afternoon. Ariel hadn’t asked about it, assuming Jarrett kept a supply on hand for whatever company he might have visiting him. Although, judging from their conversation last night, he really wasn’t the type to do much entertaining.
She bent and fingered the sundress she’d worn to dinner. It was pretty but seemed a little dressy for daytime. She pushed it aside in favor of shorts and a T-shirt in bright rosé.
Clothing decided, she turned reluctantly to the mirror and stared at her hair. It lay in loose waves over her shoulders. The layered style suggested she’d had it trimmed recently. Familiar actions tugged at the edges of her memory, as if she was supposed to do something with her hair. But what?
She pulled out the small chair in front of the vanity and sank down. What was the routine she performed every morning without thinking? How did her hands move, her fingers twist and bend and secure while she planned the day ahead?
Trying not to focus too much, she reached for a hairbrush and closed her eyes. Maybe if she cleared her mind, her body would take over. She allowed herself to relax as she thought about what she would like to eat for breakfast. Maybe cereal with fruit, or some toast.
But the brush didn’t feel familiar in her hand and she got caught up in trying to remember what she usually ate in the morning. She tossed the brush down and reached behind to pull her hair into a ponytail.
Instead her fingers began pulling sections of hair apart, then weaving them in a swift series of complex moves. Ariel held her breath as she quickly finished a perfect French braid. She wasn’t sure which excited her more. The fact that she could do the braid or that she knew what it was called.
She stood and turned so she could admire her handiwork from the rear. There was a knock on her closed bedroom door. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Jarrett stepped inside. Ariel belatedly realized she was dressed in only a towel and lunged for her borrowed robe lying across the foot
“What?”
“When Mama said she would think about it, she meant no. Nana B. meant she really would think about it. Which one do you mean?”
Jarrett bent and kissed her forehead. “I mean I’ll consider your request. But if Ariel stays, you have to feed her and take her for walks every day. And make sure she doesn’t chew on my shoes.”
Anna Jane giggled. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, he wondered what he’d done to deserve her affection.
Chapter Four
A riel looked out the window at the bright morning light. She was sick of staring into the mirror and trying to find something familiar. She’d spent more than an hour last night looking at her face from different angles, trying to catch a glimpse of something that might spark a memory. Instead all she’d generated was a massive headache and a feeling of desolation that had yet to go away.
Amnesia played well in the movies, but in real life it was very frightening to have one’s past disappear.
She glanced at the clock and frowned. It was nearly eight-thirty. In another half hour she would go downstairs and be returned to the hotel. If that’s where she’d come from. Her discomfort wasn’t from the thought of leaving. Jarrett had made it quite clear she wasn’t welcome here and, under the circumstances, she was pleased to be leaving. What upset her was there was still no news. She’d been so sure she would wake up to remember who she was. Barring that, she’d been certain Leona would deliver good news with breakfast. Parents who were distraught over her absence. A sibling or two who’d been frantic all night. A worried boyfriend.
She grimaced at the last thought, somehow knowing no boyfriend or husband had a place in her life right now. But she wouldn’t mind a sister or two.
Ariel turned to the bed. Leona had insisted she keep the resort wear she’d brought the previous afternoon. Ariel hadn’t asked about it, assuming Jarrett kept a supply on hand for whatever company he might have visiting him. Although, judging from their conversation last night, he really wasn’t the type to do much entertaining.
She bent and fingered the sundress she’d worn to dinner. It was pretty but seemed a little dressy for daytime. She pushed it aside in favor of shorts and a T-shirt in bright rosé.
Clothing decided, she turned reluctantly to the mirror and stared at her hair. It lay in loose waves over her shoulders. The layered style suggested she’d had it trimmed recently. Familiar actions tugged at the edges of her memory, as if she was supposed to do something with her hair. But what?
She pulled out the small chair in front of the vanity and sank down. What was the routine she performed every morning without thinking? How did her hands move, her fingers twist and bend and secure while she planned the day ahead?
Trying not to focus too much, she reached for a hairbrush and closed her eyes. Maybe if she cleared her mind, her body would take over. She allowed herself to relax as she thought about what she would like to eat for breakfast. Maybe cereal with fruit, or some toast.
But the brush didn’t feel familiar in her hand and she got caught up in trying to remember what she usually ate in the morning. She tossed the brush down and reached behind to pull her hair into a ponytail.
Instead her fingers began pulling sections of hair apart, then weaving them in a swift series of complex moves. Ariel held her breath as she quickly finished a perfect French braid. She wasn’t sure which excited her more. The fact that she could do the braid or that she knew what it was called.
She stood and turned so she could admire her handiwork from the rear. There was a knock on her closed bedroom door. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Jarrett stepped inside. Ariel belatedly realized she was dressed in only a towel and lunged for her borrowed robe lying across the foot
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