A Memory Worth Dying For (13 page)

Marti was stunned at the irritation in his voice. She shrank inside of herself and tried to think of something to say. Before she could speak, Daniel took another step closer.

“Why are you here early?”

Marti looked at him then. He stood tall and stiff—as if he were angry. Had he remembered who she was then? The thought scared her into silence.

When she didn’t answer, he came closer and towered above her. His expression softened, and his stance relaxed.

“Are you all right?”

A nod was all she could manage.

“I’m Daniel Rushing. I’m sure my father has told you I’m the subject of this portrait you’re supposed to be painting. To be honest, this is entirely my father’s idea. I’m not happy about having my portrait done.”

Marti’s head lifted. Then he hadn’t remembered who she was. Her gaze settled on his chin to keep from looking at his eyes.

Marti smiled shakily, trying to pretend she hadn’t felt the strong emotions filling the room. She knew the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was all she could muster.

“Well, truthfully, it won’t take much of your time. After the initial pastel study, which takes about an hour, and a short photography session, I work from photographs until the last sitting.”

Marti knew in her heart she could paint his portrait from memory without a single piece of reference material, but she kept that thought to herself.

His features relaxed, and flecks of relief sparkled in his eyes. “That’s a relief, Ms. . . . I’m sorry; I don’t know your name.” He reached out to shake her hand.

Relief forced a smile to her lips, and she shyly reached out her hand to shake his. “Marti Rushing.”

Shock filled his eyes for a second, and she realized her mistake.

She used her married name.

Since leaving here three years ago, she had adopted her maiden name, Ross. Daniel’s presence had thrust her into the past, and the name Rushing came easily from her lips.

“The same last name. How odd. What a strange coincidence.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes trying not to land on their hands content in the clasp of each other—her thoughts consumed only with the feel of her hand in his.

When he realized he still held her hand, he dropped it as if it scorched his skin. Marti watched a shocked expression darken his features before his other hand rubbed the nape of his neck, as if he were easing a pain there.

She stilled and looked for the first time into his golden brown eyes.

Please remember me, Daniel.

His head tilted to the side as he stared into her eyes. Goose bumps on her arms tingled.

“Do I know you? “ His voice was suddenly injected with a tight barrier. “You seem familiar, and yet. . . Did my father tell you I had an accident and can’t remember anything during the last few years?”

She nodded silently.

“Yet, you seem familiar.” He stared at her, and the furrow between his brows deepened.

The whole room tilted. She clenched the chair tighter with her left hand, trying to stop the world from spinning. Holding her breath, she waited. Would he remember? It was the loudest silence she had ever endured. Her heart was filled with a sense of foreboding—aching for him to remember and yet scared to death he would.

Remembering their life together meant he would recall the accident—the cause of his sister’s death—and the other horrible accusations he had hurled at her the day she left. Her soul shivered.

He would send her away again, and her heart would rip into pieces once more.

Marti watched his gaze separate from hers and said, “I know a little about amnesia myself. I . . . I was in a car wreck a few years ago, and I lost several weeks of memory surrounding the accident, so I know how you feel.”

She turned away to distance herself from him physically and emotionally when he suddenly pointed one finger in the air.

“Now I remember where I’ve seen you.”

The air was sucked out of her lungs.

“You were the artist at the Landeville Gallery reception.”

Slowly she took a breath and nodded.

“But, I don’t understand. The artist’s name at the exhibition was Ross. Is that you?”

She nodded again, unable to find the words to explain.

“Oh, you must be using Ross as a professional name.”

She stood silently, not wanting to lie, but letting him believe the apparent solution.

His eyes opened wide as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I bought one of your paintings that day. Would you like to see it hanging?”

Her mouth felt parched. “Sure.”

Daniel left the room and waited for her to follow. She slowly walked through the door and watched him as he entered the room on the other side of the large hallway.

Sweat popped out on her forehead, and the breath in her throat felt hot enough to burn as it entered her lungs. This was their corner suite. Their bedroom when they lived as man and wife. Her heart ached, remembering his touch . . . his devotion . . .

His angry words the day I left.

She straightened her spine and made a decision.

I won’t let him get to me. I have to be strong. I’ll help him get his memory back and leave before he sends me away again.

They could never have a life together once Daniel remembered the accident. And the wounds she carried from his words still throbbed. Trust was necessary in every marriage, and he had stomped all over what little he had in her.

TWENTY-FOUR

MARTI CAREFULLY ENTERED THE SUITE
where she spent four years as Mrs. Daniel Rushing. The décor in the sitting room had been completely changed. It had an almost gaudy look about it. Walls that had been a light blue were now painted a dark green, and even though the wood floor remained the same, new rugs, accented with a hideous orange color that clashed with the green in the walls, were placed in odd spots around the sitting areas. She cringed.
Hashtag: garish.

Three recliners sat side by side, all covered with various fabrics.

“Excuse the extra furniture. My fiancée is in the middle of refurnishing these rooms. She said the old furniture looked revolting and the blue color reminded her of a typical bachelor’s room.”

Marti’s fist clenched. How dare she! There was nothing wrong with the way Marti had decorated the room. Revolting?—indeed!

She followed Daniel through the ostentatiously redecorated sitting area into the bedroom and gasped.

There, above the gigantic stone fireplace in the center of the outside wall, was the landscape he purchased from her spring exhibition at Sandra’s gallery. The colors of blue and gray in the sky and mountains of the painting complemented the curtains and flowers scattered around the room. The aged leather sofa and chairs at the end of the bed brought out the sienna of the trees and lazy cabin resting beside the lake in the painting.

The décor of this room had not been touched. The familiar colors and fabric brought back an onslaught of memories. Even the soft smell of magnolia blossoms tore at her heart and created a longing so strong that she felt her heart was weeping. She struggled to keep her features inert.

Without speaking, Daniel pulled aside the massive curtains to reveal the landscape outside.

She already knew what she would see before he motioned her closer to the windows. The painting on the wall mirrored the mountains in the distance. How could they not match? She had painted the picture hanging on the wall with this particular view in mind.

He looked at her with questions in his eyes. “How could you paint something to match so perfectly when you’ve never been here before?”

Marti’s lips felt numb. Color rose in her cheeks, and she faced the mountains to hide the truth in her eyes. “I’ve visited this mountain range in my heart many times.” It was the truth, and yet it gave nothing away. “I’ve seen pictures of these mountains before, and their beauty is something you never forget.”

Daniel nodded, and his tone softened. “Yes, I know what you mean. Even when I’m away for business reasons, I miss the peace they make me feel. My fiancée wants me to move this painting to a room downstairs, but . . . I haven’t given in yet. ”

Daniel glanced out the window toward the stable and noticed someone walking there. He stiffened.

“There’s my fiancée now, and her brother. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”

“Her brother?”

“Yes, her parents adopted a little boy three years ago, making him her brother.” He looked uncertain, but politeness made him continue. “Would you like to meet them?”

Meeting Veronica face-to-face again was not something she was looking forward to.

“Uh, no. I need to get unpacked and get everything set up here in the studio.”

He walked toward the door but glanced back at her. The uncertainty of her look made him pause at the door.

“Our cook, Stella, is off this morning, but Anita placed plenty on the breakfast bar, if you get hungry. My dad will be here, but please feel free to scrounge around. I won’t be around today—there’s an equine exhibit at the Natural History Museum in town. But I’ll be able to work with you on the portrait tomorrow if that’s acceptable.”

Marti nodded. “Tomorrow’s fine.” She took a step toward the door but had a thought and stopped. “For the portrait . . . maybe you’d like to be holding something in the picture—like . . . one of your wood carvings.”

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her, a question darkening his eyes.

“How did you know I used to make wood carvings?”

Marti’s heart did a flip-flop. “Oh . . . uh . . . your dad must have mentioned it.”

Daniel stared at her in confusion for a few seconds before nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned and left the room.

The air rushed out of her lungs, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed. Bombarding Daniel with memories was going to be harder than she ever imagined because it opened a Pandora’s Box of memories for herself as well.

After her heart returned to its normal rhythm, Marti inched over to the window and looked at the redheaded woman standing by the stable. The fashionable riding jacket she wore was a brilliant green, and the tan riding slacks were silky and fit her perfectly. Dressing with flair was one of Veronica’s best assets.

A small boy jumped and skipped around her in circles and laughed as he tugged on Veronica’s hand—his collar length dark hair blowing in the slight breeze. Laughter trickled through the closed window and tickled Marti’s heart. Sorrow for the little boy she lost in the accident drove a knife of pain through her heart.

As she watched, Veronica glanced up and saw Marti standing at the window. She yanked up her designer sunglasses, and her eyes tightened to tiny slits. Marti could see the fury radiating through her features. It was obvious Veronica knew nothing about her coming. Marti’s heart trembled, and she stepped back quickly.

What had she gotten herself into?

Veronica took a step toward the house and glared up at the window. Marti was sure Veronica had to be aware of the fact she was standing in her old bedroom. She pulled back further from the window to hide from Veronica’s wrathful gaze and peeked through the tiny slit of the curtains. Eventually she saw Daniel hurry out of the back patio door. The little boy launched himself into Daniel’s arms. The kiss Veronica gave Daniel was long and meaningful. When she pulled back, she linked her arm in his and raised her head in a victory salute toward the top floor window. Some of the air deflated from Veronica’s posture when she saw Marti wasn’t standing at the window any longer. She flipped her head with determination and turned to Daniel with a worshipful look. He gazed down into her eyes with a smile.

Marti’s soul died a little in that instant. This whole charade was futile. She didn’t have a prayer of winning Daniel away from Veronica when his lack of memory prevented him from feeling the connection they shared during their four-year marriage.

Her shoulders were rounded in rejection when she heard a startled exclamation behind her.

“Oh my!”

Marti turned and encountered the scowling face of Parker’s’ wife.

“Anita!”

“It’s you. I thought I was going crazy.” Anita’s face suddenly tightened. “What are you doing in this room?”

Anita’s brows drew together, and Marti could feel the sudden injection of frostiness into her voice. Anita and Marti had always been close, but after the accident, Anita too had scorned their friendship. She mirrored the same aloofness as her husband, Parker.

Marti walked to the door a little shakily. “Didn’t Gerald tell you? I’m here to paint a portrait of Daniel, and he was showing me the painting he bought in the spring.”

Anita nodded. “Mr. Gerald told me, but I was surprised after . . .” Her voice trailed off, and frigidness filled the air.

Marti looked at Anita carefully and saw dislike flaring out from her eyes. There was nothing else to say. She turned and left the room. As she turned the corner in the hallway, she bumped into Gerald marching down the hall.

“Oh, excuse me, Marti. I came to see . . .” He paused when he realized she had come from Daniel’s bedroom.

“Daniel was showing me the painting he bought at the Landeville Gallery this summer . . . my painting,” she explained.

A look of surprise flitted across the old man’s face. “Then . . . you’ve seen Daniel?”

Marti nodded. “He came into the studio and introduced himself.”

“Did he remember anything?”

“No. He remembers meeting me at the Landeville Gallery, but that’s all.”

A gleam of hope died in Gerald’s eyes. His thin shoulders deflated. “Well, I have faith your being here will eventually help him remember. That is . . .” He lowered his head and looked at her through the top of his lashes. “. . . if you decide to stay.”

Marti would be crazy to even think about staying. Not only would her heart take a beating, but she knew Veronica would make life miserable for her. She would be a fool to stay and face such hostility, but rebellion reared its determined head, and she had a sudden desire to fight for Daniel.

A glance at Gerald revealed a softness around his eyes and compassion in their depths. Gerald was a different man. He had turned his life around and was trying to correct his mistakes. She remembered the passion in his eyes when he begged her for forgiveness and asked her to help Daniel find happiness.