Rocky Mountain Memories. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ “Spectacular,” she breathed.

      “It is,” Jake said with smug satisfaction, as if the land was his own. “We’ll soon be home. Then you can climb into bed and really rest, if you want.”

      He wanted to ease her transition, but how could you help someone who couldn’t remember anything about their past? Maybe he should have let her sleep.

      “I’ve always loved the snowcaps on these mountains.” She paused. “I mean, I think I have.”

      “You don’t have to monitor every word. Just take it as it comes, Gem. And I know exactly how you feel.” The serenity of the vast forest surrounding The Haven filled Jake’s soul. He loved it here. This was his haven and he never wanted to leave, though technically it wasn’t his home. He’d lost that the day—

      Jake shoved away the guilt and drove uphill toward the big stone house where the aunts lived.

      “Jake?” Gemma’s voice came soft, breathless.

      “Yeah.” He glanced at her. Worried by her pallor, he pulled to the side of the road. “Feel sick?”

      “Yes. What if I don’t ever remember them?” She grabbed his arm and clung to it. “What if this never feels like home? I’m so scared.”

      “Don’t be.” He wrapped her icy fingers in his and held on to them, trying to ease her discomfort the way a movie hero would simply because Gemma—the old Gemma—had always admired white-knight heroes. “Everything is going to be fine. There’s no rush about remembering. You’ll do it when you’re ready. No one will pressure you. Everyone will understand. All they care about is that you’re home and unhurt—well, mostly unhurt,” he corrected with a smile, wishing she’d lose that terrified expression.

      “But—but—”

      “Gem.” He gave in to his longing to comfort her and slid his palm against her cheek for just a second. “You used to have a special verse you’d recite whenever you needed to encourage yourself. Do you remember it? It starts, ‘God is our refuge and our strength.’” He removed his hand and waited for her to finish it.

      ‘“A tested help in times of trouble.’” Eyes wide, she nodded. “I do remember that.”

      “Now think about the words,” he suggested while his brain called him a hypocrite. God hasn’t been your refuge or strength, Jake. Not for years.

      She remained silent for a few moments before huffing a sigh.

      “Okay. Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

      “Atta girl.” He shifted into gear. “The Haven’s gorgeous, isn’t it? All that stonework with those towers and—” One glance at Gem’s face and Jake cut off his commentary, sensing that she needed silence to gather her pluck for the reunion ahead.

      He sent up a prayer for her, for strength and a calm spirit, and then wondered at himself. He didn’t talk to God anymore. Hadn’t since... Anyway, Gemma Andrews wasn’t his responsibility.

      Yet from the first day he’d arrived at The Haven, Jake had felt protective of her, as if he had to be there in case she needed him.

      “There are so many of them!” Gemma gasped, drawing his attention to the house and the folks assembled on the driveway.

      “Those aren’t all your relatives,” he sputtered, amused by her shocked expression. “I’m guessing your family arranged for whatever kids’ group is visiting The Haven to form a welcoming committee. Relax,” he chided as her fingers tightened around her seat belt. He parked, turned off the car and waited a moment before asking, “Ready?”

      “As I’ll ever be,” she whispered. She lifted her hand to open her door, pausing when Jake shook his head.

      “Wait.” He climbed out, strode to her side and offered a hand to help her exit the car. Her hair had loosened from the topknot she’d tied it in earlier and now tumbled past her waist. Her face was strained and the jeans she wore had seen better days.

      But Jake thought she had never looked lovelier.

      “Welcome home, Gemma,” he said softly, and then he drew her forward to meet her family.

      * * *

      Gemma licked her lips as she mentally reminded herself, They’re my family. My family.

      She didn’t feel like she belonged with them.

      “Our dear, dear girl.” One of the elderly women, an auntie perhaps, wrapped her in a gentle, fragrant embrace. She brushed a kiss against Gemma’s brow before holding her back to examine her. “We are so thankful you’re home, dear.”

      “I—er, I’m glad to be here,” she whispered. It wasn’t home—not yet—but how could a mere hug feel so wonderful? She glanced from one lady to the other. “You’re twins!” Her face burned at the peals of laughter around her.

      “Guess I forgot to tell you that, Gem. This is your Aunt Tillie,” Jake explained.

      “Hello. Jake said you were ill.” As Gemma squeezed her hand she noticed the woman’s red nose. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

      “A simple case of the summer sniffles. Some people worry too much,” Tillie said with a glare at her doppelganger.

      “You are Aunt Margaret. It’s very nice to—” Gemma had been going to say meet you. But that was hardly appropriate. “To be here,” she finished.

      “My dear, you should be resting in bed.” Margaret wrapped tender arms around her in a second hug. “You’ve had a dreadful ordeal.”

      “I’m fine.” Gemma had never felt more on show.

      “Margaret tends to fuss,” Tillie murmured.

      “It’s nice to be fussed over, but I’m truly all right.” She wanted to get this over with. “Thank you for the welcome,” she said, scanning the assembled group. One glance at Jake and he immediately understood. He nodded at someone and after the group of children had sung a welcome song they hurried away, apparently to other activities.

      “These are your sisters, Gemma.” He introduced each woman, her husband and her children.

      Her foster sisters at least resembled the descriptions he’d given her during their long ride here. Their children’s names would require memorizing.

      “I should have brought gifts,” Gemma whispered to Jake when the silence stretched too long.

      “No, you shouldn’t have, Gem,” Victoria said. “All we care about—all we’ve been praying for—is that you’d come home safely.”

      “I care about presents, Auntie Vic!” A little girl glared at her aunt until her mother—Adele?—hushed her. “Well, I like ’em,” she muttered defiantly.

      Gemma grinned at her. “I like presents, too,” she said.

      “We’re so sad about Kurt, Gemmie.” Olivia, a tiny baby snugged СКАЧАТЬ