looked deep into his eyes, searching for something. He wished he knew what she sought and could provide it.
She sat back with a sigh.
“You remembered something?”
“Only a feeling.”
“Tell me about it. Talking might help.”
“It might.” She remained silent a moment as if collecting her thoughts. “I remember looking into someone’s face, searching for something. I feel like I didn’t find what I looked for. But that’s all there is. No name. No face. Nothing.” Her breathing came too fast. She pressed her hand to her eyes.
Jesse squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t try so hard. Let your memory come back when it’s time. It might take a day or two. You know, until that bump goes away.” He brushed the side of her head.
She filled her lungs slowly and leaned back. “I’ll try to relax.” She glanced about the yard. “The flowers are beautiful.”
“Gram likes to grow enough to take bouquets to the church every Sunday.”
Emily inhaled deeply. “I smell sweet peas.” She closed her eyes. “I see myself with my arms full of the flower. I’m happy and laughing.”
She broke off and he waited, wondering if this was the beginning of her memory returning, but she shook her head.
“I can’t see anything more.”
“Stay here. I’ll get you some raspberries.” He strode toward the bushes. The flowers had triggered a flash of remembrance. Perhaps raspberries would do the same. If not, she could at least enjoy the sweetness of them.
* * *
Emily watched Jesse cross the yard, moving like a man with no worries, no hurries. She knew that couldn’t be true. Especially as a robbery had been committed, two men murdered and he had in his care a woman who couldn’t tell him anything about herself.
He cupped his hand and filled it, then returned to her side and offered the raspberries to her.
“Thanks.” What a kind, generous man. She took one and sniffed it, finding the scent familiar and full of pleasant memories. “My grandmother had a big raspberry patch. She let us kids pick the berries and eat them.” She popped the berries into her mouth one by one and let the taste explode in her mouth.
He sat quietly at her side, perhaps letting her remember and talk.
She finished the fruit. “I don’t recall anything more. Not where she lived nor how many children I shared the experience with.” How could her mind be so stubborn?
“Let it be.” He stretched his legs out before him. “I might wish I could forget a few things, but I’d want to choose which they were.”
“Like what?”
“Being a rebellious young man, as I told you. Knowing what kind of life my mother lived. So sad. It’s hard to forgive her.”
Emily jerked to her feet and took three steps. Her lungs had forgotten how to work.
Jesse hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know but something you said made me feel—” She couldn’t say what she felt. “I’m afraid of who I might be.”
He turned her to face him and kept his hands on her shoulders. “Emily, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done, but I can’t imagine it’s anything you should be afraid of.”
She shook her head, ignoring the pain the movement brought. “But you don’t know. I don’t know.”
He led her back to the bench and waited for her to sit, then sat beside her and took her hands. “Emily, let me pray for you.”
She turned her palms into his and held on tight. “I’d like that.” She bowed her head.
“Father God, You know the beginning from the end. You know everything there is to know about Emily. Bring those memories back to her and help her to be calm and patient until You do.” A moment of silence surrounded them. Birds sang overhead. Leaves rustled. The scent of flowers filled the air. And sweet, blessed peace filled her soul.
“Amen,” he said.
She slowly brought her gaze to his. “Thank you. I will trust and not fear.”
“Good to hear.” He slipped away and returned with a handful of sweet peas in pink, purple and white. “Enjoy one of the many of God’s gifts to you.”
She took the flowers and buried her nose in them. “Thank you. God’s gifts? I think having you and your grandmother take me in is one of them.” She lowered her gaze lest he think her too bold.
Bold? The word hammered inside her head. Had she been too bold in the past? I will trust and not fear. She dismissed the thought. In God’s time all things would be brought to her memory.
She hoped God’s time would be sooner rather than later.
Jesse watched Emily inhale the scent of the flowers. Several times she had mentioned concern about a checkered past. He didn’t know if it indicated that she’d had one or if it was simply a fear born of not knowing. Perhaps he would ask Dr. Baker his opinion. But not now. He sat back, content to enjoy Emily’s pleasure in the flowers and Mikey’s play as he and the old dog romped about on the lawn. He wouldn’t have thought Muffin had that much energy left in her.
He used to do the same with Muffin, only he would have been much older. Someone had left Muffin at Marshall’s Mercantile as a pup and Gram had brought her home. The playful dog had provided Jesse with many hours of fun and unconditional affection. Nice that Mikey found the same.
Poor boy. Jesse needed to find the couple who were going to adopt him and see if he could discover who Aunt Hilda was. Hopefully that would give Mikey a home and Emily her past.
He picked up a bit of wood and joined Mikey and Muffin. He tossed the wood. “Fetch.”
Muffin raced after it and brought it back.
Jesse gave the wood to Mikey. “You throw it for her.”
The toss landed three feet in front of the boy and Muffin brought it back to him.
Mikey bounced up and down, squealing in excitement. He threw the wood again. “Go.” He giggled so hard that he fell to the ground.
Emily joined Jesse. “He’s sure having fun.”
Jesse pulled her hand around his elbow, telling himself it was to make sure she didn’t have a dizzy spell. But it was more than that. He wanted to keep her close, protect her.
How foolish could he be? He knew nothing about this woman. Her name but not her past. Not whether she was married, though he’d again studied her ring finger and seen no evidence of any recent wearing of a ring. Unless she was like his mother. She certainly didn’t look the part. Not that it mattered. He was only doing his job as a sheriff.
The door opened and Annie rushed out, bearing a shopping basket full of clothes. “I believe I have everything you’ll need for a day or two.” She set the basket on the stoop and proceeded to pull out three outfits for Emily’s inspection. A brown skirt, a navy one and two shirtwaists—one white, the other pink—and a dress that seemed a little fancier. There were more things, but she didn’t reveal them. Jesse guessed they were of a personal nature.
“Aunt Mary had them tucked away,” Annie said. “She’s put on some weight and couldn’t wear them.” That would explain the slight mothball smell. Annie’s aunt Mary and uncle George ran the Marshall’s Mercantile store.
Emily touched the garments. She looked troubled.
He