Pamela Bauer - Bachelor Father

When she noticed where his eyes were focused she blushed. That was something Christie wouldn’t have done. As an exotic dancer she’d enjoyed the looks men cast her way.

Not wanting to make Faith uncomfortable, he asked, “Do you have any permanent damage?”

“One part of me didn’t recover,” she said. “For some reason—they think either a blow to my head or some other trauma—I’ve forgotten everything that happened prior to that night.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you have amnesia?”

“The doctors say it’s retrograde, meaning I can’t remember anything of my past that took place before the accident, but I do remember everything that has happened since then,” she explained. “So what I was doing or where I was living…” She shrugged. “I just don’t know what that was…or where I was…or with whom.”

Adam found himself at a loss for words. He stared at her, thinking that she was putting two and two together and coming up with five. Even if she did have amnesia and even if she did look like Christie, it didn’t mean she was Megan’s mother. Mentally he noted the differences in the two women. The voice. The clothing. The jewelry. The figure.

“Because you can’t remember who you are does not make you Christie Anderson,” he stated firmly, as much for her sake as for his.

“But I could be,” she said with a spark of hope in her eyes.

“No, you’re not Christie. She died, Faith.” He kept his voice firm and deliberate. “Six months ago while sailing her small boat. The St. Louis County coroner signed her death certificate.”

“You said they never found her body,” she reminded him.

“Because they don’t find any bodies in Lake Superior.” His voice rose as his frustration increased. He didn’t want to believe any of what she suggested could be true, nor did he want to remember that only a few hours ago he’d wondered about the very same possibility.

“But you have to admit that theoretically speaking, she could be alive,” Faith persisted.

“I don’t want to speak theoretically.” He was a man who worked with facts and figures. His world was concrete. “It isn’t good enough for my daughter. Theories could break her heart so badly that I’m not sure the damage could ever be repaired. Until we sort this out, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t see Megan.”

“I don’t want to hurt Megan, but you can’t expect me not to be curious about my identity. Until today, not a single person has recognized me. You’re the first one who has said I remind him of somebody else.”

“You do look like someone I once knew, but there’s a difference between resembling someone and actually being that person,” he argued.

She cocked her head to one side. “You said you hadn’t seen Christie in a while. Can you honestly look at me and be one-hundred-percent positive I’m not her?”

He wanted to say yes, but the truth was, he did have a nagging sliver of doubt. He didn’t want it to be there, but it was. It was why he said, “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll contact the attorneys who handled Christie’s estate and get their advice on this matter. Does that sound fair to you?”

She nodded. “It won’t take long?”

“No. I’ll do it today.”

“All right,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’d better get my coat. Dr. Carson should be here any minute.”

He nodded. “Before you go, can I ask you a couple of quick questions?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“How do you know your name is Faith if you can’t remember who you are?”

“The night I was found I had no identification on me, only a braided leather bracelet with the name Faith on it.” She pulled back the cuff of her sleeve and showed him her wrist. Hand painted in pink were the letters F-A-I-T-H. “Everyone assumed it’s my name.”

“It could have religious significance,” he suggested.

She ran a finger over the narrow band of leather. “It could, but it’s a lovely name, don’t you think?”

She looked up shyly at him with those blue eyes and he was charmed by her innocence. “Yes, it’s lovely,” he answered, thinking more of her face than her name.

“You have another question?”

“How is it that you ended up working here at the hospital?”

“The doctor who found me on the side of the road used to be on staff here. He suggested I do volunteer work until my memory returns. I earn my room and board by helping his wife out around the house.”

“I see. Then you don’t know what your occupation is?”

She shook her head. “What did Christie do for a living?”

“She was a dancer.” He didn’t think she needed to know about the exotic part. At least not yet.

She thought for a moment, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing. Then she said, “I don’t think I know how to dance.”

He looked her up and down one more time and thought he’d like to see her try.

AS HE HAD the previous night, Adam decided to sleep at the hospital in Megan’s room. Not that he expected to get much rest. They’d wheeled in the same uncomfortable convertible chair he’d used the night before and Megan still had a monitor next to her bed beeping intermittently.

However, it wasn’t his physical discomfort or the hospital distractions that kept him awake. It was the relentless stream of thoughts racing through his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Faith and the startling information she’d told him.

As soon as he’d arrived at home he’d pulled out Megan’s photo albums to see how closely Faith resembled Christie. As much as he wanted to say they weren’t the same person, the snapshots of Megan’s mother could have been pictures of Faith.

It was too preposterous to even contemplate that the two women were one and the same, yet it was exactly what he did think about as he tried to get to sleep. All the logic in the world couldn’t keep him from concocting the most absurd reasons for Christie to have faked her own death and disappeared from the lives of those she loved.

It didn’t matter that as soon as he’d left the day-care center he had phoned the attorney who had handled Christie’s estate and had been told the chances of her surviving the drowning were slim to none. Everything the lawyer said should have convinced Adam that Faith wasn’t Megan’s mother. It should have, but it didn’t because Adam had seen and spoken to Faith. The attorney hadn’t.

“If this woman has only had amnesia for the past few weeks, how could she be Christie?” the lawyer had asked. “The accident happened last September. Where would she have been for over five months and why wouldn’t she have contacted Megan?”

Adam could have given him one of the farfetched scenarios he had come up with, but he knew he would only sound like someone who’d watched one too many B movies. Besides, they were rhetorical questions that the lawyer didn’t expect Adam to answer.

“Everyone in town knew Christie loved Megan,” the attorney had reasoned. “It would take a lot for you to convince me she would ever abandon her own daughter. She wasn’t that kind of person.”

Adam wished he could state with the same confidence as the attorney that he knew what Christie would or wouldn’t have done, but the truth was he hadn’t spent enough time with her to get to know her at all. They’d spent one night together. Less than twelve hours. It had been enough time to make a baby, but not enough time to discover who she was. Most of what he knew he’d learned after her death from a lawyer and a six-year-old.

His thoughts returned to the night they’d met. He’d followed her out of the bachelor party calling after her, “Hey, it’s a great night for a cruise down the St. Croix. I’ve got a yacht if you want to go.”