Son of Texas. Linda Warren

      “Go around back to the garage,” Belle instructed.

      Caleb stopped in front of the double garage that had a small truck parked inside. Belle gasped.

      “What is it?” Caleb asked.

      She pointed to the garage. “That’s my parking spot and my car’s not there.”

      Caleb looked at her pale face.

      “Evidently I drove away from Beckett.”

      “Seems like it.”

      “I need to see Lencha.” She opened the door and got out. Caleb followed.

      The yard was well kept, but the house needed painting and some outside boards were rotten. There were no close neighbors. Lencha lived on several acres. Farther down were some brick homes then a trailer park.

      It was noon, but no one was about. Belle opened the gate and they walked up the back steps. A pleasant scent greeted Caleb and he noticed all the flowering bushes and plants in the flower beds. A huge greenhouse was in back and he glimpsed a large garden filled with all sorts of vegetables and more plants.

      Belle knocked but no one answered. “Lencha sometimes gets lost in her own little world,” she said, and opened the door. They went into a utility room that held more plants in pots, then into the kitchen. A birdlike woman in jeans and a chambray shirt was at the sink washing dishes. Long gray hair hung down her back. A squirrel climbed down her back then up again to rest on her shoulder. Caleb blinked, wondering if he was seeing things.

      When the squirrel noticed them, she scurried down Lencha’s back to the floor, standing on her hind legs making funny noises.

      “What’s wrong with you, Chula?” Lencha asked, looking down at the squirrel. “You’ve had your lunch, so be quiet. I’m not giving you any more corn. You’re fat as a pig now.”

      Belle smiled at Chula, Lencha’s pet squirrel. As she stood in the room, soaking up the familiarity, that sense of belonging that she hadn’t had until now—Chula, the hardwood floor, the Formica table and chairs, the sunflower curtains and the scent of herbs and lavender—all were familiar. Lencha grew lavender in the yard and it drifted to her nostrils and saturated her body. A metamorphosis began to happen. She could feel it. It was like shedding a skin and letting new life in. For so long she’d felt like a mismatched piece of furniture that she’d been trying to fit into rooms where she didn’t belong. But this was a part of her and a part of her family.

      “Lencha,” she said quietly, almost afraid to speak.

      “Lawdy, lawdy, will it never stop?” Lencha dried a dish. “People call me a witch and I’m beginning to believe them. How else could I conjure up her spirit and hear her voice so clearly?”

      Lencha didn’t turn around or acknowledge her presence. She put the dish in the cabinet as if Belle wasn’t even standing there.

      “Lencha.” She tried again.

      Chula scratched at Lencha’s legs.

      Glancing down at Chula, Lencha caught sight of Belle, taking in Caleb behind her. “Lawdy, now she’s got a man with her.” Lencha shook her head as to rid herself of the image. “How long will I continue to see her? I’m too old for my mind to be this active.”

      Belle finally understood. Lencha thought she was seeing things. She walked closer. “Lencha, it’s me. I’m real and I’m alive.”

      Lencha shook her head. “Go away, Josie, and stop torturing an old woman.”

      Belle touched her and Lencha jumped back, her eyes big, then in a trembling voice, she asked, “Josie? Josie Marie?”

      “Yes, Lencha. It’s me.”

      “Heaven above. Santa Maria madre de Dios.” Lencha grabbed her and held her tight. “Josie Marie, you’re back. My precious child, you’re back.” She drew away and stroked Belle’s face. “You’re back.”

      “Yes.” She gripped the old lady as tight as she could. Lavender was all around her and a peacefulness came over her. The past connected to the present just that easily. She wiped away an errant tear and stared at Lencha. “Josie Marie is home.”

      In that moment she became Josie Marie again. New strength surged through her and the shackles of fear slipped away. Her memory hadn’t completely returned, but it would and she could sort out the rest of her life on her own.

      Looking at Caleb, she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. Weak, defenseless Belle Doe was no more. She disappeared the instant Lencha called her Josie, and Caleb knew that. She saw it in his gaze.

      A moment of dejection swept over her. She brushed it away with a flicker of remorse. She was Josie Marie Beckett, police officer, looking for the person who’d tried to kill her. She wanted justice for what she’d been put through and she’d find all the answers she needed one way or another. Revenge was such a harsh word, but she wanted revenge or something to explain away the nightmare.

      Her eyes settled on Caleb. Surviving her parents’ deaths, being shot and living without a memory seemed minimal compared to what she had to do now. How would she say goodbye to a man like Caleb?