Crystal Green - The Stranger She Married

This month, she’d adapted a Laura Ashley exterior, her dress flowered, her neck-length dark hair breezy. “My brothers are absolutely dying for some sweets. We need to feed the creatures.”

“It’s coming,” said Rachel, topping off another batch of strawberries with homemade whipped cream.

Chloe Lister stepped farther into the room. “You need more help, Ms. Shane?”

As Rachel handed another full dish to Lacey, it slipped out of her hands, crashing to the floor. Rachel shook her head, trying to keep her cool. “Great. That’s just wonderful.”

And suddenly, with that one last irritating straw, it was all too much for Rachel. She bent down to clean the mess, and tears clouded her vision.

“Mommy?”

Rachel didn’t move, merely held a hand over her eyes. Two long years of waiting. Two long years of lost hope with no answers, even with the return of the man she’d married.

She’d held up pretty well until now.

Lacey’s voice floated over the room. “Tamela, why don’t you go ahead and serve the men? Leave us with your mom a moment.”

As the girl’s footsteps faded away, Rachel felt a hand on her shoulder, comforting, calming. A sob heaved through her, embarrassing her. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” asked Lacey.

Rachel looked up, seeing her sister-in-law, her hand wiping away a tear from her cheek. Chloe shut the door, every inch the calm-blooded career woman. Rachel wouldn’t have been surprised if the detective could stand her ground beneath the attack of a steaming stampede of rhinos, never batting an eyelash.

Rachel said, “I’m sorry for breaking down like this. It seems I can handle everyone else’s problems, but when it comes to my own, I’m useless.”

Lacey laughed. “Nonsense. I’m just surprised this minibreakdown didn’t happen sooner. See, that’s what you get for thumbing your nose at my offer to help with money for this farm. Even Meg Cassidy, your best friend, for heaven’s sake, wanted to help.”

“It would be humiliating to take your money, Lacey.”

“Have it your way, trooper.” Lacey rubbed a hand along Rachel’s back. “It can’t be easy with this amnesia deal. I almost didn’t believe Matthew when he came out with that whopper.”

Chloe spoke up. “You can never tell. Ms. Shane, if you need me to look into it more, I can. And you can defer payment for a while—”

“Thank you, but no.” Rachel took a deep breath. A woman couldn’t ask for much more than good friends, and Rachel had a whole stockpile of them right here in Kane’s Crossing. How could she think of going back to New York, giving up on the farm, giving up on the people who cared?

Her mother used to take advantage of loved ones’ feelings, choosing to consider herself the center of the universe instead of extending the same courtesy to others. Rachel would never, ever turn out to be a carbon copy.

Lacey helped her up, to the sink, then turned on the faucet. Rachel splashed some cold water over her eyes, her cheeks. There. A little relief.

Her friend said, “I hope my rascal of a brother has grown up, has changed into the husband he was always capable of being.”

“Things were fine,” said Rachel, wishing Lacey wasn’t quite so astute. Were their dinner-party appearances so strained, so obviously frayed? How many people had noticed the way they rarely spent weekends together? She tried to pretend her heart wasn’t breaking apart at the thought of her shattered marital wishes. Just before Matthew had left, their union had faded like the colors of an old wedding cake decoration.

“Uh-huh, absolutely, things were fine,” said Lacey. Chloe shifted in the corner, probably wishing she could go outside to do more digging into Matthew’s mysteries.

Lacey continued. “You know that men never change, right, Rachel? They just go on and on until somebody puts the screws to them. Well, maybe somebody did a little body work on Matthew down in New Orleans. Maybe somebody did you a favor.”

Rachel wanted to ask, But what if this new Matthew changes back into the old one? The one who fell out of love with me?

But she didn’t. She kept her tongue, hoping Lacey was right about the new man. Wishing that this Matthew Shane could see how much she’d always wanted to win back his love.

Outside, night creatures buzzed and chirped with the deepening shade of the sky. The evening felt like the tepid breath of a watcher, keeping time over the world.

Matt sat by himself and finished the last of his dessert, hardly tasting the summer fruit. He wanted Rachel out here, not hiding in the kitchen as if she wanted no part of him.

He’d sneaked a few peeks at the window, just to see what was keeping her. Lacey and Chloe had gone inside, probably attacking Rachel with girl talk.

Damn. Why couldn’t the only person whom he felt halfway familiar with be here, keeping him anchored, sane? He hadn’t even remembered his brother and stepsister, and that had made dinner even more awkward.

Matt cast one last glance at the kitchen, then stood, walking away from the house. After ambling around a few minutes, he reached a cool expanse of grass overlooking the white-fenced pond. The sky was purple, graced with streaks of faint star white.

He didn’t realize that someone had been following him until he heard a deep voice break the silence.

“The old man wouldn’t believe a word you’ve said about amnesia.”

He turned around to see a tall, dark shape. There was a scraping sound, followed by the flare of a match. Faint light skidded over the face of Matt’s brother, Rick, emphasizing the hidden darkness in the younger man’s gaze.

Rick noticed Matt’s scrutiny. “Cigar?”

“No, thanks.” God, shouldn’t he feel at ease with his own little brother? Shouldn’t there have been memories or some kind of emotional pull to ground him? All Matt knew was that Rick flew planes and generally holed himself up in a cabin just off Lacey’s wooded property.

There was nothing else Matt knew about his own flesh and blood.

Rick cocked an eyebrow in the star-palled light. Not for the first time, Matt noticed that his brother’s hair was the same deep chocolate shade, though Rick wore it a bit longer, scruffier.

The siblings watched the night together, and Matt was positive that they didn’t have a damned thing to say. Rick hadn’t uttered more than ten words tonight, hadn’t even shown much emotion when he welcomed his big brother home.

And then there was his stepsister, Lacey. After jumping into his arms and hugging him near to death, she’d come right out and told him not to worry, that she wasn’t as crazy as Kane’s Crossing made her out to be.

But who was worried?

Rick blew a plume of smoke in the air. The scent of brandy and shaded alley corners overcame Matt, making him think of laced grillwork, neon-lit bar signs shining over midnight streets. New Orleans, the place of his rebirth.

Rick said, “Dad would’ve questioned you up and down about this amnesia, thought you had some angle.”

Was he accusing him of something? Matt turned to him, his dander up. “Let me guess. We don’t have a very good relationship, do we?”

A grim smile flickered over his brother’s lips. “Not after the way you’ve treated your family the past couple of years. And I don’t give much credence to this tragic amnesia story, either.”

Before either of them could fire another verbal shot, the roar of a souped-up engine cut the air, followed by jubilant shouts and horn blasts. Both Matt and Rick turned to the commotion.

A cherry-red Camaro zoomed up their drive. A man dangled out of the passenger-door window, waving a ball cap.

“Mattie!”

Rick asked, “You still have questions about your past, Matt?”