Lois Richer - Rocky Mountain Memories

“I guess I could do that,” she agreed, then frowned. “What do I do after that?”

“If Alexa doesn’t need Kurt’s money, you could ensure it’s wisely invested and then leave it to grow until she does need it,” he said with a shrug.

“That sounds advisable,” the lawyer agreed.

“Yes,” Tillie said, though she was frowning. She looked at her sister.

“It does sound good. Only, Alexa and her mom aren’t all right,” Margaret blurted.

“How do you know that?” Jake studied the sisters with narrowed eyes.

“We’ve kept tabs on them. Kurt and Gemma were away so much, you see.” Margaret cleared her throat. “We felt it our duty to watch over the child.”

“And so?” Gemma replied automatically. She felt so confused and muddled and her headache was back.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Anna was accidentally killed three days ago in a drive-by shooting.” Tillie’s sad voice was hushed.

“The day of the earthquake,” Gemma whispered, aghast.

“Yes.” Margaret sighed. “Apparently Anna had a will that named Kurt as Alexa’s guardian in the event of her own death. Because there are no other relatives and Kurt was unreachable, Anna’s daughter, Alexa, was placed in foster care. We’ve been praying and praying for a way to help the child.”

“Yes,” Margaret exclaimed. “And now you’re home, Gemma. A true answer to prayer.”

“Me?” Gemma blinked. She glanced sideways at Jake and found no help in his shrug. So she studied her aunts. “I’m an answer to prayer? What am I supposed to do?”

“We have no idea, dear,” Tillie said, her smile sweet.

“Not yet. But we’ll think of something,” Margaret said confidently. “We always do.” She rose. “Or you will. Oh, dear, look at the time. I’m so sorry, Gemmie, but Tillie and I must leave. We have an appointment in Chokecherry Hollow that we simply cannot cancel, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“My dear girl,” Tillie said, rising and moving close to pat her shoulder. “You’re safe now. Jake will show you around The Haven and your room is waiting for you. As always.”

Gemma sat stunned as the ladies kissed her cheek and told her again how glad they were to have her home. Then they bustled away. The lawyer rose, too.

“I must also depart. As Kurt’s executor, I’m happy to answer any questions you may have, Mrs. Andrews—Gemma. Call on me anytime.” He, too, left.

Gemma felt like Dorothy in Oz, right after the tornado had touched down. Wait, how did she remember that?

“Well, I guess I’d better get started answering those calls—” Jake started to say.

“No you don’t!” He was her lifeline and she wasn’t about to let go of him in this sea of confusion. “You brought me here, Jake. You got me into this. Now help me figure it out.”

He opened his mouth to protest, studied her for a moment and then poured himself another glass of lemonade. He sat down, huffed out a huge sigh and swallowed half of the pale yellow liquid.

“I’m only The Haven’s handyman, Gem,” he said weakly.

“You’re the fixer, that’s why all those people called you,” she said, struggling to make sense of everything she’d learned. “Now help me figure out how to fix things for this child that my husband loved so dearly, when I can’t even remember my own name. Wait a minute. That picture.” She blinked, remembering the photo of the smiling child.

“Gem, are you okay? You look...weird.”

“The picture that was in my wallet. That must be Alexa. Maybe Kurt did tell me about her and I just forgot. Along with everything else.” Suddenly the sun felt too hot, the problems too large, the decisions too overwhelming. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain she thought she could hear a man’s voice calling, Take care of her. Take care of Alexa.

The world wobbled. Had she really heard that or was she dreaming? She felt so strange.

“Jake?” she whispered.

“Yes, Gem?” His voice came from a long way away.

“Have I ever fainted before?” Gemma didn’t hear his reply as she slid off her chair and onto the patio.

For the next two days, Jake stayed away from The Haven, trying to catch up with his work and hoping to give Gemma time to absorb everything in her world. But with each day that passed, his concern about her ramped up. Somebody had to do something.

Though he’d called the local doctor after Gemma had fainted, though she’d been given a thorough checkup and she had pooh-poohed his concern, he worried. She did look and sound fine, yet she seemed somehow diminished. Apparently her interest in Alexa had also lapsed because she remained silent on that issue.

“Want to check out our fishing hole this afternoon?” Jake had asked yesterday when he’d seen her sitting on the deck. He’d pointed out the spot, expecting she’d jump at the chance to resume her favorite activity.

“I just showered. I’ll get dirty scrabbling down that hill,” she’d mumbled, barely meeting his gaze. “Anyway, Adele’s a chef. She doesn’t need me to bring home supper.”

Excuses made, Gemma had resumed staring across the valley.

It seemed to Jake that she couldn’t muster the strength to move on with her life. Since Tillie and Margaret gave the impression they were perfectly content to let their foster daughter float through the days, Jake felt it was up to him to help her snap out of it. Which was why when he found Gemma in the kitchen near noon today, still swathed in her bathrobe, he discarded his white-glove treatment.

“Since you’re not busy, can you help me out?” He was relieved that his peremptory tone jarred her from her vacant stare through the massive window to the distant mountains.

“Help you out with what?” Though Gemma looked at him, her gaze was hazy, unfocused.

“With my work here at The Haven.” It was the only thing he could think of to motivate her. “I’m behind.”

“Because you took time off to come get me.” As he’d expected, Gemma immediately jerked upright. Twin dots of color appeared in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?” She sounded more like herself. “I don’t know that much about your work, or anything else for that matter. But I’ll help however I can if you’ll show me what to do.”

“For starters, get dressed. Old clothes. We’ll be working in the dirt.” Jake lifted one eyebrow when she simply sat there. “Well?”

“Dressed. Got it.” Gemma rose and strode across the room. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned. “Will you wait here, or should I find you?”

“I’m already late,” he told her in a brusque tone that he despised but used because it seemed to be shocking her out of her dazed lethargy. “Find me in the garden.”

“The garden.” She didn’t move. “Uh, the garden is...?”

He pointed.

“Right. I’ll be there in five minutes,” Gemma promised.

“Wear a sun hat,” he called after her retreating form.

“Do you think that was wise, dear?” Tillie murmured.

Jake whirled to find the aunts standing behind him, both wearing disapproving frowns. They’d obviously overheard his less than gentle tone. Jake mentally grimaced, hating that he’d caused that look of strain on their sweet faces.

“Gemma needs to be busy, to be doing something,” he explained gently. “Sitting around, waiting for her memory to return isn’t helping her.”

“What if it doesn’t return?” Margaret’s hushed tone revealed her concern.

“Ladies,” Jake chided with a smile. “Where’s your faith?” He was rewarded with their nods. “Until Gemma’s memory returns, she needs a purpose. Maybe gardening will give her that.” Did he sound more certain than he felt? “It’s better than doing nothing,” he offered belatedly.