License to Love (18 page)
Authors: Kristen James
And it showed when the last guest left and Brent swept her
into his arms, kissed her neck, and carried her to the bedroom.
“Aren’t you supposed to carry me across the threshold?” she
teased, murmuring the words against his mouth, against their kiss.
“You look like you want the bedroom right now!”
“I do, I do!”
Each kiss held tenderness and forever love. “You’re my wife
- you’re staying!” he exclaimed with his arms wrapped around her. Brent laid
her softly on the bed and kissed her left hand. She looked down at her wedding
ring as he kissed up her arm. Slowly, he undressed her, kissing her body all
over until she lay naked.
Her stomach flipped with excitement while her body buzzed
with love. She ran her hands lightly over his muscled back, finding his body
both familiar and exciting. He, too, memorized her body with his hands in a
worship of love.
“Remember when we first met?” he asked, looking into her
eyes.
“How could I forget?”
“Well, it’s true . . . I’d never forget a face like yours.
I’m so glad you showed up that day.”
She rose onto one elbow. “And fell in love with you?”
After a smile, she kissed his lips lightly. He gazed in to
her eyes and told her, “You mean everything to me, Missy.”
“Good, ‘cause I'm sticking around for good!”
The End
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Contents
, or a different story:
Can Molly love Trent again if she can’t remember him?
What if she ran from Trent, a police officer, and somehow
caused her memory loss, because she committed a horrible crime?
“Maybe this is the one,” Molly whispered, hoping against the
odds that people in this town would know her. She’d stopped by three towns
already and asked if they remembered her living there, as her parents had told
her. But no one had.
She drove her Honda Civic north on I-5 through the softly
falling rain, watching for the Ridge City sign. She thought about the dangers
of triggering her memory to return, but she had to do something to figure out
what happened to her parents. Regaining her memory might give her those
answers, plus she didn’t want to spend her life without a memory of her first
twenty years.
The exit came and she veered to the right. A few miles
later, the road ran along the top of a hill, giving her a view of the town
below. A sign announced
Entering Ridge City
. The rain was just a mist
now, letting the sunshine through for a minute.
The town’s houses crowded together until they reached the
top of the hill, overlooking the generous farm land below. Molly had read as
much as she could find on the place, which wasn’t much. The town sign said
population five thousand. She saw a long main drag, a mill, the usual fast food
and family restaurants, and a touristy section with billboards advertising
Oregon gifts. If only she could remember this quaint little place. Had she been
happy here? Would anyone recognize her?
She followed the main drag and parked in a free parking lot
close to the police department, where she planned to go first. As she opened
her car’s door, she felt pummeled by Oregon spring weather: fat rain drops and
a cool wind.
In like a lamb, out like a lion.
This March, however,
seemed to be starting like a lion. Molly pulled her raincoat’s hood up to
protect her hair from falling flat. The weather wasn’t style-friendly at all,
and her hair was curled and pulled up except for a few curls she left loose.
Her black hair might draw some attention. If anyone here knew her, she didn’t
think they’d miss seeing her today. Both her parents were a mix of American
Indian and English, so Molly had light brownish red tone to her skin. Maybe
someone here could tell her why she’d ended up in California without a memory
or any family besides her parents.
The weather cleared and the wind died down to a gentle
breeze that teased the curls by her temples. A few brave trees had blossomed,
but the wind blew their petals all over the pavement like snow.
Seeing the police department sign, she slowed, hesitated,
and then pushed herself to quickly walk inside. At the desk, an older and kind
looking blonde smiled. “How can I help you?”
Molly liked her soft blue eyes and motherly appearance.
“My name is Molly Anderson,” she started with a shake in her
voice. She cleared her throat and straightened herself, trying for confidence.
“I might have lived here about five years ago, before I was hurt and lost my
memory.”
The woman’s smile remained, but her brows pulled together
and her eyes gained this intense focus. “Did you say Molly Anderson?”
Even while Molly nodded, the woman grabbed her phone.
“Trent, get up here.”
Molly’s heart jumped into double time while her stomach
squeezed into a ball. She crossed her fingers behind her back but also wanted
to run right back outside.
A door opened to her right and a man stepped out, actually a
broad shouldered cowboy about six feet tall, built like a bulldog, with deep
brown eyes that lit up all shiny and bright when he spotted her. He looked
genuinely happy to see her, but his size and posture startled her.
“Molly?”
She jerked, jumped out of her skin really, upon hearing the
rugged voice. “Uh…”
The excitement faded. “Mol?”
Now that someone actually recognized her, she didn’t know
what to say. This man didn’t speak either, but stared right back at her. He was
clean-shaven and neat with dark hair and eyes, a strong face that fit this
build.
He glanced at the receptionist and back at her as if he
didn’t believe what he was seeing in front of him.
Flip—flop
went her stomach. Those eyes …
wow
.
Molly didn’t remember ever feeling a burning and tingling excitement like this,
but she knew what it was.
His chocolate-brown eyes gazed into hers like he was looking
at Elvis back from the dead. Suddenly aware that her lips were parted in
surprise, she pulled them shut, trying to pull her desperate hope back inside
her before he saw. She saw a million emotions swirl in his eyes as he took her
in.
“Molly, why don’t you come with me so we can talk?” He swung
the door open. She didn’t move, and noticed he looked either confused or hurt.
“You’re perfectly safe here.”
She nodded, tried to give the kind woman a smile and walked
through the door. He shut it behind him and gestured down the hall. They went
into a small room with a table, chairs and a shelf with a coffee maker. Nervous
again, she turned to him in surprise.
“Please, relax,” he said softly, “I just want a quiet place
for us to talk. I’m here to help you.”
“You know me?” She barely managed the words as she sat down.
His raised eyebrows and bewildered eyes turned to pleading
at her words. But pleading for what? For her to recognize him, of course.
He
knows me!
“Molly Anderson,” he said or asked, she wasn’t sure. He had
a strong face, she thought again, though caring. A sense of comfort filled her,
bringing some confidence with it.
“Yes, I am.” She remembered herself, or at least the
memories of herself over the last four years, and recited her usual
explanation. “I lost my memory several years ago, so I don’t remember you.”
His eyebrows rose, his eyes full of disbelief. Not the
suspicious kind of disbelief, but he looked like she just told him he had
cancer. With puzzlement, he said, “You sure have changed.”
“I have?” This was her opportunity. She’d found a link,
maybe some answers. “I’ve been visiting towns where I lived before. This is
town number four and the first one where anyone knows me. Maybe if you told me
how we knew each other, something will come back. Could you start with your
name?”
He almost smiled. “Trent Williams.”
Molly repeated the name, but it did nothing for her. How
could she have known this impressive man and not remember him? That didn’t feel
right.
“Everyone said you were gone,” he said. “No one thought
you’d come back except Alicia and me.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
She sat back and then realized how tense her shoulders were.
“You said I’ve changed. How so?”
“You’re not the Molly I remember.” His eyes looked all over
her face. Molly wasn’t used to having a man gaze at her like that, like he was
memorizing and meeting her at the same time. Suddenly, she wondered at their
relationship, how close they had been.
Darn it, isn’t it a little late to
worry about that now
? Trent continued, “Your hair’s curled, done up, your
jewelry looks pretty expensive, and you’re wearing perfume that nobody in this
small town can afford.”
Molly tugged at her earring which had actually been her
mother’s. Without her memory, a cool air about herself had been her only way of
putting a buffer between her and the world. She still clearly remembered how
frightened she’d been when she’d first awoken, and how everyone around her
could see her fear.
“I wasn’t ....” She broke off.
Wasn’t what?
“I wasn’t
like this when you knew me?”
“You were a down-to-earth, jeans-wearing free spirit.” A
faint smile danced on his face, and his speech fell smoothly with a small hint
of a southern accent adding to his slight drawl. She wanted to see his full
smile. She’d glimpsed his white teeth and knew he must have a persuasive, slow
grin.
He watched her like he was putting that person together with
the person sitting in front of him. “I want to know where you went, what
happened,” he said.
“Aren’t you going to tell me how we knew each other first?”
Why this banter, she wondered. Trent rubbed his hands together and clasped
them, almost as if he was buying time.
“We were friends. Hung out in the same circles.”
Was that all they were? And if so, was it all he had wanted
from her? If they had been dating and she didn’t remember a man like him, maybe
something
was
wrong with her.
“So why’d you leave?” He brought her back. “Why didn’t you
call anyone here? Why didn’t your parents call? None of this makes sense.”
“I know, but I just don’t remember.” She heard the
frustration in her voice and reminded herself that she was sitting here with
someone who finally recognized her. Trent’s intent look, those brown eyes a
shade darker than hers, didn’t leave her anywhere to hide. He wasn’t going to
look away until she answered him. “I have about four years’ worth of memory. I
remember waking up one morning in a strange house and finding a couple who said
they were my parents. I became hysterical, not believing them until they showed
me our family picture albums.”
“Where was that?”
“The house?”
He nodded, leaning forward.
“Northern California. I tried all kinds of things to get my
memory back. Then it hit me maybe I should visit other places where I had
lived.”
Trent leaned back, giving a soft
hmm
. He lowered an
eyebrow, tilted his head to one side. “Seems to me that seeing me would make
you remember. We used to be friends. And this town. Nothing?”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Can you tell me what happened to make you forget?”
Trent’s question didn’t have an answer, at least not one
Molly knew of yet. Shaking her head, she thought that if she could remember why
her memory disappeared to begin with, maybe all of her memory would return.
“I just have questions and no answers. This was a long shot
to come here, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
Trent tried again. “Didn’t your parents tell you anything?”
“They told me we moved around a lot. We lived here for a
year and a half before my father’s job took him to California. I fell and hit
my head, I guess. The doctors didn’t find any damage, but I couldn’t remember
anything before that.” The fear she must have felt flickered in her eyes for a
brief moment. “You’re the first person I’ve met besides my parents that knew me
before.”
Trent’s
hmm
sounded louder this time, and he sank
into his own thoughts for a few minutes.
“That’s what your parents told you?” he finally said.
Molly’s brows creased. She had no idea what Trent was really asking with his
question, but she sensed that he disagreed with her story somehow.
He stared at her like she might be lying. The hurt she felt
both stung and surprised her. “Wait, did you know my parents?”
“Yes, I knew you and your parents.” He leaned forward, his
dark eyes earnestly pleading. “Everyone did, Mol.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say about all this.”
“I guess it’s only fair that I share about myself, maybe
that’ll help.” Trent relaxed back into the seat, even though it looked a little
forced. “I joined the police force after high school, and I just got my first
promotion when you ran off—”
“Ran off?” she interrupted. He hadn’t mentioned that before.
“You were just gone, no word, no call to anyone. Just gone.”
This news didn’t sit well with her.
“Maybe you need to ask your parents a few questions,” Trent
said.
After a short and involuntary intake of breath, she said,
“They’re dead.”
His head shot up to stare at her. “When?”
“Two years ago.” After an unsure pause, she explained. “A
car accident, or maybe it was tampering, but the police never decided.”
“How horrible.”
