Time Tantrums (18 page)

He jumped up in a display of energy she wished she felt, grabbed his robe from its hook on the closet door and strode into the bathroom.

 
“Yikes! This water’s cold,” he soon yelled.

She’d forgotten to warn him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to use it all,” she called as she smoothed the rumpled bed. Recalling David’s behavior last night, she snickered. Maybe a cold shower would do him good.

* * * *

In an attempt to kill time while David dressed, Mariah meandered through the house. She focused again on all the wondrous gadgets and contraptions surrounding her, and paused for a moment gaze out the kitchen window. The colorful flowers blooming in the back yard reminded her of the prairie and home. Thoughts of her family filled her mind. What they were doing right now?
 
If loneliness could break a heart, surely hers was shattering.

Her reflection stared back at her. Tears rimmed her eyes and distorted her vision. Suddenly, an image of Frank’s face hazily appeared next to hers in the window. He looked so real she reached to touch his cheek, but her hand stroked cold glass instead.

“Wow, I feel better,” David said from behind. “I’m hungry, how about you? What do you feel like having?”

She choked back her emotions and knuckled the wetness from her eyes before he noticed. “There are so many choices,” she said, turning. “Can I wait and choose when we get there?”

* * * *

David walked around to Taylor’s side of the car, opened the door and helped her out. She paused and gazed at the sign atop the building–
IHOP.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He sighed. Tired
of
 
questions
to which she should already know the answers, he feigned patience. “You remember,
IHOP
. It’s your favorite pancake house.”

“
No!
I don’t.” Tightness ridged her jaw.

He held open the restaurant door and followed her inside. At times, this woman he thought to be his wife, seemed like a stranger. As usual, she appeared to be in awe of even the simplest things.
Even an unimpressive coffee shop.

When they reached their table, she paused and scanned the room, appearing to look for a familiar face, but that made no sense. David cleared his throat.
“Your chair, my love.”

She sat and pulled a napkin into her lap, and without a word, studied the menu.

David peered over the top of his. “I’m surprised you even bothered opening the menu. Usually you just order strawberry pancakes.”

She shook her head. “I would
never
do that. Strawberries make me break out in a rash. Last time I tried one, I turned almost as red as the berry and itched for days.”

 
          
His shoulders sagged. She had an explanation for everything. There was no winning with her. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Taylor, I’m at my wit’s end here. I’ve taken a leave of absence to help you get better, but it seems we aren’t getting anywhere. What’s happening to us?”

Rather than pull her hand away as she normally did, she held on. “David, I’ve said I’m sorry a hundred times, but I don’t know why I continue to apologize. Believe me; this is all as strange to me as it is to you. Think about it. How could we have conjured up the people we talked about last night? Surely you can see that even though I may look like your wife, I have nothing in common with her. I’m Mariah Cassidy. Wherever your Taylor is, I’m sure she misses you terribly. I’m so frustrated I want to scream.”

He hung his head. She was right again. No matter how much he wanted to believe she was Taylor, she wasn’t. All the differences he’d noticed between her and his wife haunted him. Whether it was the accident or divine intervention, the woman across from him was not his Taylor. His gazed locked with hers. “I think it’s time for us to take Dr. Shaw’s advice and contact the psychotherapist he recommended. If that’s okay with you,
Ms. Cassidy
, I’ll call and make the appointment.”

Mariah’s heart fluttered. He finally believed her. She was about to respond when the waitress came to the table. “You folks ready to order?”

Chapter Twenty-three

Frank whistled as he hitched old Gert to the buggy—until scenes of his last trip to town flashed through his mind. He stopped and questioned the wisdom of making this trip, but pacified himself, thinking it would be highly unlikely to have another mishap. He brushed aside his apprehensive feelings and grabbed the harness on the old mare and led her out of the barn. Maybe today would be the day she remembered him and their life together.

* * * *

Taylor primped in front of the mirror. Today, especially, she wanted to look her best. Recalling last week’s visitors, she wanted assure she was the best-looking woman at the social. She pushed a stray lock of red hair from her face and grimaced. Red hair would never be her favorite, but she had no choice. Despite the color, she found the natural curl a nice touch. She was used to paying money for them in the past. At least, she still believed it was her past. She had no proof of anything she believed to be true. She had no choice but to try to enjoy today.

 
After making sure every hair was in place, she paused for a moment then laughed aloud.
“Why are you going to all this trouble, you big dummy?
Your hair is doomed anyhow. You’re you’re going by buggy, not in a Lexus.”

To make sure that her bow was perfect and all her buttons fastened, she made one last twirl in front of the mirror. Satisfied, she made her way downstairs and out the door.

Frank’s eye widened when he saw her. He whistled. “Are you ready to go, pretty lady?”

Taylor curtsied. “Thank you, sir. I believe I am. Maybe on the way there you can tell me what to expect. I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t ever been to a social.”

His smile faded. “That’s not true. You just don’t remember.”

He took her elbow and helped her into the buggy, “Are you ever going to remember?” he mumbled.

Once seated, she scowled at him. “I do remember. Just not the things you think I should.”

“Do you have everything?” He asked, changing the subject. His smile seemed
forced
.

“I think so. Is there something I need, that I don’t know about?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, a Bible might be fittin’. It
is
a church social.”

“Hmmm, I never thought about that. Sorry. Since I don’t know where you keep it, you’ll have to go get it.”

Frank disappeared into the house and reappeared, carrying the family Bible. He handed it to her. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

The book looked familiar. “This was on the parlor table, wasn’t it? I remember moving it when I dusted in there.”

“Yep.
You might want to take a look at it. You’ve recorded all our family history in there—births, deaths, marriages.”

While Frank walked around to climb in, she began turning pages. None of the notations meant a thing. She stared at the handwriting. “Yes, there really is a history here, but this isn’t my handwriting.”

“It has to be. You’re the one who kept the records.”

“Well, since I don’t have a pen or pencil handy, I can’t prove it, but when we get home, remind me to write something for you. You can compare. Maybe then you’ll believe me.”

“Let’s not argue now. I don’t want anything to spoil the day, so can we call a truce? Later we’ll compare the writing, but for now, let’s just go and have a good time. We deserve it.”

He snapped the reins and Gert responded. The buggy wheels turned with a hair-raising creak that eventually faded.

* * * *

After an hour of crossing an endless sea of prairie grass turned brown from the sun, Taylor began to fidget. “How much longer till we get there?”

She stifled a giggle, mentally comparing her question to the very one she asked as a child in the back seat of her parents’ car.
 
David’s voice broke into her reverie.

“Not too much farther. We’ve been lucky. It’s unseasonably cool for this time of the year. It looks like we may even get a storm in the next day or so. See those clouds building off to the north?”

She ducked her head and looked out from under the canopy. Far in the distance, ominous, gray thunderclouds piled atop each other. “Well, I hope it doesn’t rain today.”

“Don’t worry, it probably won’t. Usually takes a while for the clouds to move in.” He pulled back on the reins and stopped atop a hill. “Well, there it is, Beaver Creek.”

Taylor looked down at the small community lost in the middle of nothingness—one large main street, buildings on each side, and a scattering of homes dotting the landscape around the town.
“Beaver Creek, huh?
Not very big, is it?”

“Nope, but it’s the closest place for us to get supplies without having to travel for hours.
Lots of nice folks hereabouts.”

 
“So, if you really wanted to go to a town—a big one—where would you go?”

“Denver City, I reckon. It’s not the biggest, but it’s the closest.”

“Where is it from here?”

“Farther north.
There was a terrible flood back in ’64 that pert near took ’em off the map, but the town rallied and rebuilt. I’ll bet
there’s well over two thousand people
living round those parts now.
Seems to be prospering.”

Taylor’s mouth gaped.
Two thousand people
?
The city she remembered was miles and miles of buildings, homes, highways and cars. She shook her head, amazed that nothing she believed to be true was evidenced by what lay before her. A chill passed through her, and she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She looked at Frank and forced a grin. “Well, we best not just sit here. I don’t want to be late to my first church social.”

Gert trudged along pulling the carriage down Main Street. Taylor glanced from side to side, hardly believing her eyes. Waking up in a ranch house was shocking enough, but now she truly felt she’d taken a giant step back in time. She expected to see John Wayne lumbering along the plank walkway, or Little Joe, Hoss and Ben riding in from the Ponderosa.

Horses tied to the hitching rails lined the street, and all the women strolling along wore dresses similar to those she’d found in Mariah’s armoire. “Shit, this has to be a bad dream.”

Frank jerked his head around and glared at her. “That’s hardly appropriate talk for someone headed for a church social.”

She covered her mouth, unaware she’d muttered her thoughts aloud. Her cursing really bothered him, but it had become habit. “I’m sorry. I’m honestly trying to clean up my mouth, but I’m having a hard time absorbing all this Old West stuff.”

He shook his head. “What do you mean? This should be all familiar to you, but for the life of me, I’m trying to understand why it isn’t.”

He reined Gert to a halt in front of the church—the last building on the street before more flat prairie land. Although small, the tall steeple housed a fair-sized bell with a pristine white cross adorning the very top. People they’d passed on the street arrived and went inside; most carried a dish of some sort.

Frank came around and helped her down, then went to tend Gert. Taylor stepped onto the plank walkway, straightened her dress, and ran her fingers through her windblown hair. She took a breath to calm her runaway heart. Facing more strangers wasn’t exactly something she welcomed. She jumped when Frank touched her elbow.

“Shall we?”

Yet another couple entered the church carrying a covered dish. They smiled and waved before disappearing through the door. “Frank,” Taylor whispered, “should we have brought food to share?

“I reckon we should’ve.”

“Well, why didn’t you say something? We’re going to be the only freeloaders here.”

“Free whatters?”

“Oh, never mind. It’s too late now.”
 
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and took another deep breath.

Frank put his hand in the middle of her back and hurried her inside. Motioning for her to sit in the pew closest to the door, he scooted in next to her. The bench was hard and uncomfortable, and more people crowded into the almost full church. With the doors closed, it didn’t take long before the air turned uncomfortably warm and stale. Taylor felt claustrophobic and struggled to breathe.

Pastor Amos, as she’d learned his name, walked behind the pulpit and raised his arms. Everyone stood and, with hymnal in hand, began to sing. Taylor fumbled through pages, trying to find the right song, but didn’t recognize the lyrics at all. Frank’s baritone voice crooned pleasantly next to her—his voice a nice mix with those surrounding them. She finally gave up looking and mouthed the words as best she could. When the song ended, everyone sat.