Sheri WhiteFeather - The Texan's Future Bride

In the morning, Jenna had breakfast with her sister in the main house, surrounded by retro-style gingham accents in the kitchen. Unfortunately it was too early to head over to the hospital. With the exception of spouses and significant others, visiting hours were limited.

She’d barely slept last night, wondering if the stranger would recoup his memory today.

She glanced across the table at Donna, but her sister didn’t look up. She was busy texting, in between sips of fresh-brewed coffee and bites of a Spanish omelet, courtesy of the soon-to-retire cook.

Jenna continued to study Donna. They’d always been different from each other. Jenna, a certified horseback riding instructor, loved everything country, and Donna, a magazine writer turned marketer, loved everything city. As soon as the B and B was off the ground, Donna would be returning to New York, where she lived and worked. Jenna, on the other hand, planned to stay at the ranch and help run the B and B with Tammy.

Donna finally glanced up. “What?” she said.

“Nothing.”

“Then why were you staring at me?”

“I was just thinking about how opposite we are.”

“We’re siblings, not clones.”

“Yes, but you’d think that we would have more in common. Or look more alike or whatever.” Although both were blonde, Donna was a year older, three inches taller and wildly curvy. She had the figure of a 1940s pinup, while Jenna was small and lean.

Donna shrugged and went back to texting, and Jenna considered how distant their relationship was. Her sister had trouble connecting with people on an emotional level, but Jenna could hardly blame her. They’d been raised in a go-your-own-way environment.

Tammy entered the room, and Jenna immediately said, “Hi.”

“Hello, yourself.” Their cousin sat down and greeted Donna, as well. Then she turned back to Jenna and said, “Mike left a couple of hours ago to check on our patient.”

Her stomach fluttered. “He did? Any word?”

“From Mike? No. But I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”

Donna quit texting. “What patient? Who’s sick?”

Jenna answered, “I found a man yesterday. He was wandering around on the road with a concussion.” She went on to explain the details. “Hopefully he’ll be better today.”

“Wow,” Donna said. “Can you imagine losing your memory?”

No, but Jenna wouldn’t mind forgetting about the mess their dad had made of things. But he’d been notorious for disappointing her, even when she was a child. He’d never been there when she needed him. He’d been too busy with his corporate job. He rarely attended parent-teacher conferences or planned birthday parties or took his daughters to the movies or engaged in the types of activities that would have made them seem more like a family.

She glanced at Donna. Funny thing about her sister. Before the skeleton in Dad’s closet had surfaced, Donna used to idolize him. He’d been her hero, the person she often emulated, particularly with her workaholic, career-is-king habits. Not that Donna would ever admit how deeply he influenced her. But Jenna was keenly aware of it.

Clearing the Dad-clutter from her mind, Jenna said to Tammy, “I was planning on going to the hospital later, but maybe I should wait for Mike to call.”

“It might take him a while to check in,” her cousin replied. “He has a lot of rounds to make. Why don’t you head over to the hospital now and look in on the man? I can tell you’re still worried about him.”

“I can’t see him until noon.”

“Says who?”

“The hospital visiting hours.”

Tammy waved away the rules. “They probably won’t notice if you slip in a little early.”

“I think it would be better if I went at noon.” She wasn’t comfortable taking liberties. She preferred to play by the book.

Tammy didn’t push her out of her comfort zone and neither did Donna. They allowed her to be her regimented self.

When the time rolled around for her to get ready, she donned classic Western wear: a broomstick skirt, a feminine blouse and a nice pair of boots. She freshened up her face and fluffed her hair, too. Not that it should matter what the stranger thought of her appearance. If he was better today, this would probably be the last time she saw him.

She arrived at the hospital at twelve o’clock sharp and went to the nurses’ station, where she inquired about the patient’s condition. They informed her that he was awake and coherent, and once everything was in order, Dr. Sanchez would be releasing him.

So, he was better.

She thanked them for the information and continued down the hall. A moment later, she stalled. She was nervous about conversing with him.

Pushing past the trepidation, she proceeded. She entered his room and passed the TV-watching patient. Today he was engaged in a sitcom from the seventies. He didn’t glance her way, and she left him alone, too.

She moved forward and came face-to-face with the stranger. He was sitting up in bed. His gaze zeroed in on hers, and her heart went bumpy.

“Good morning,” she said, keeping a calm voice.

“You’re the girl from yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“The blonde I thought I was dating. I’m sorry about that.”

Dang. Did he have to go and mention it? “It’s okay. You were out of it.”

He nodded, and she took the seat next to his bed, the same spot where she’d watched him sleep. “You look healthier.” Still a bit worn-out, she thought, but an improvement nonetheless. “I heard that Doc will be releasing you.”

“Yes, but I’m supposed to take it easy.”

“You can’t go kicking up your heels just yet?”

“No. Not yet.” He smiled a little.

It was sinfully crooked. The bump-bump in her chest returned. “I’m Jenna, by the way. Jenna Byrd.”

“Thank you for what you did. Jenna,” he added softly.

The bumping intensified. “I’m glad I was there to help.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “So, what’s your name?”

He furrowed his dark brows. “I don’t know. I still can’t remember anything, aside from you bringing me to your ranch and coming here.”

She gaped at him. “Your memory hasn’t recovered? Then why is Doc releasing you?”

“Because I’m not dizzy or confused, and my vital signs are good. I have what’s called retrograde amnesia, but they can’t keep me in the hospital for that. Besides, my memories are supposed to return. It’s just a matter of when.”

She didn’t know what to say. He was still as much of a stranger as he was before.

He said, “The sheriff was here earlier. He took a report. He took my fingerprints, too.” He held up his hands and gazed at them. “If I’m in the system, they’ll be able to identify me that way.”

He might have a criminal record? That wasn’t a comforting thought. “Do you think you’re in the system?”

“I don’t know.” He lowered his hands. “But the sheriff doesn’t want Dr. Sanchez to release me until the results are in. So we’re waiting to hear. I guess the police want to be sure that there isn’t a warrant out for my arrest before they put me back on the streets.”

“Do you mind if I wait until you hear something?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Because she still felt responsible for him. Or was it because she was so doggone attracted to him? That wasn’t a comforting thought, either. Confused and covering her tracks she said, “I’m interested in knowing who you are.” And hoping that he was an upstanding guy.

“At the moment, I’m no one.”

“That’s not true. Everyone is someone.”

He glanced away. Obviously her comment hadn’t made a dent in his amnesiac armor. She wanted to reassure him, but how could she, especially since he might be wanted by the police?