Lois Richer - Rocky Mountain Memories

“Not stuck,” Gemma protested. “It’s very kind of you to sacrifice your time—say, what exactly is it that you do at The Haven, Jake?” It felt strange to say those words, as if she should know. But Gemma couldn’t form a mental picture of her family’s home or his work.

“I do whatever your aunts need me to do.” A muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw. “I owe them big-time for saving my life, so fulfilling their needs is my job and my pleasure.”

Saving his life.

Gemma was about to ask about that when she realized they were taking an exit off the highway. And his phone was ringing again.

“Sounds like somebody else needs you,” she said.

“Apparently.” He checked the number before letting it go to voice mail. “I don’t think it’s serious, but I’ll get some coffee and call them back. I was up very early,” he said, obviously aware of her curiosity. “How about you?”

“I don’t mind stopping.” She knew it was an excuse so he wouldn’t have to say more about his past, but that didn’t mean she intended to let the subject go.

Gemma was stymied by her reactions to him. Why did she feel so comfortable with him? What was with this keen interest in Jake? And why did she feel compelled to discover why this strong, competent man would need two elderly women to save his life?

It was natural that she had a lot of questions about herself, important knowledge like who she was, where she’d grown up, her childhood, her foster aunts and sisters, especially her husband. She couldn’t remember any of that. What kind of a woman forgot her own wedding?

But now Gemma also had growing questions about Jake Elliot. A good-looking man, he was tall, solidly built and radiated an empathetic aura of strength and confidence. Rather like a young John Wayne in a very old movie, though this handyman was definitely not old. He was probably close to her age, which was twenty-three according to her passport. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his well-fitting jeans, cotton shirt, cowboy boots and battered leather jacket, while his mussed brown hair and piercing blue eyes made him seem vibrantly alive, unlike the dull blankness that hung over her mind.

Besides all that, Jake was apparently the go-to guy for the community’s needy folks.

A strange combination to be sure, though why he should intrigue her so was a puzzle Gemma couldn’t fathom. The only thing she did know was that Jake wasn’t like her. He knew exactly who he was, where he was going and, unlike her, exactly where he belonged.

It might take time, but she was determined to discover exactly who this poised, handsome handyman was behind the friendly, self-effacing smile.

And somehow she intended to learn why he had needed saving.

Spurning an offer of coffee, Gemma elected to stretch her legs while Jake returned his calls. Tactfully, he deferred the concerns of each person, assuring them he’d handle their needs when he returned. By the time Gemma reappeared at the car, he’d come up with solutions to each problem presented. The outreaches he did were mostly busy work for his brain, but they helped suppress the barely buried memories of his past. That was exactly why he’d taken on the role of community problem-solver.

“Everything okay?” Gemma asked as she fastened her seat belt.

“Yep. Next stop, The Haven.”

While he drove, Gemma slept. Every so often she would call out or startle and waken herself. Then her long, lush lashes would droop, and she’d doze again.

Jake had a thousand questions. Had she been happy with Kurt? Had marriage lived up to her expectations? Did she regret not having a big, fancy wedding? In the past she’d have told him all of that without his asking. He yearned to rebuild the old camaraderie they’d shared.

He was thinking about her too much. He needed to adjust his thoughts.

In six years of living at The Haven, this was one of a handful of times that Jake had left the place. Was that why he felt so antsy? At The Haven he could bury himself in other people’s issues because there was little about the place to remind him of Lily or of the reason for her death. The folks at The Haven and in Chokecherry Hollow had become a bandage over the pain of his loss.

As Gemma now was?

I promise, Lily. I will never love another as I did you. I will never risk another woman’s life through my selfishness. Never again. I promise.

He was Gemma’s friend and he’d do whatever he could for her, but friendship was all they could ever share.

Jake switched on the radio for distraction, glad when he turned off the highway that Gemma would arrive home in daylight. It wasn’t the Andes in autumn, but springtime in the Canadian Rockies was pretty spectacular.

“Time to wake up,” he said when there were only a few minutes left in their trip. “You need to see this, Gem.”

“I haven’t done a thing and yet all I do is sleep.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wincing when her fingers brushed the injury on her forehead. She yawned and stretched her neck, twisting and turning to get a good look at her surroundings. “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.