Sally Carleen - My Favorite Husband

Fred shrugged. “There’s not much they could do anyway. If the pain gets worse, you probably ought to see a doctor, but you seem to be doing okay.”

“Fred’s a doctor,” Katie explained. “So are you. You and Fred work together. You’re residents at Springcreek General Hospital.”

“I’m a doctor?” That surprised him. More strongly than ever, he felt an instinctive aversion to hospitals. But maybe that was why—working with sick people all the time. “Do I like being a doctor?”

“You love it,” Katie declared. “Except the long hours you put in as a resident.”

He supposed that would explain the aversion. Still…

Fred shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I need to go, Katie. I’ve got to get back on duty at the hospital.”

“Don’t worry about me,” John assured him. “I’m feeling better already.”

Katie bounced to her feet. “Great. Then we can get started. We’ve got a three—hour drive tonight, and it’s already nearly ten. Bye, Fred.”

“Bye, Katie. Bye, uh, John.” Fred left in a hurry.

“I hope he doesn’t get to work late because he stayed to take care of me.”

“He’ll be okay. Well, are you about ready to hit the road?” She stooped and picked up the suitcase and garment bag.

John rose, too, and took them from her. “Where are we going?”

“Hillsdale, Oklahoma. We’re in Dallas now. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way up there.”

He followed her out to the small blue car parked on the street in front of the house—a new car. If he was only a resident, probably with a heavy debt load, and they’d just gotten married, he could understand why they couldn’t afford the best. But why was everything so new? Hadn’t either of them had a life until re cently?

Again he had that nagging sensation that things were just a little awry, like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces forced in where they didn’t fit.

“You can throw my bags in the back seat with yours,” Katie instructed. He started toward the driver’s side, but she laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Under the circumstances, I think I’d better drive.”

He didn’t much like the idea of someone else driving, but he had to admit she was right. He nodded and tossed her bags into the back, then climbed in beside her.

Katie held her breath as she watched Rider squeez ing his big frame into the passenger seat of her car. Was she really going to be lucky enough to get away with this? If it worked, she’d know for sure Becky had sent down a guardian angel to protect her son. Any other explanation was too far out to believe.

“This car wasn’t made for people my size,” he observed, one leg still outside the door.

“I know. I bought it before we got married.”

“Where’s my car? Is it bigger?”

“Yes.” That was a safe answer. Most cars were. As to where it was, that was a good question. Parked up the block, hidden from view of her house? “It’s…it’s in the shop.”

“Oh.” He flinched as he tugged his second leg into the car, drawing the knee up fairly close to his chin.

“You’re really uncomfortable, aren’t you? Maybe you should ride in the back. Sit sideways.” Much as he deserved to be uncomfortable, she wanted him to be receptive to what she had to tell him.

“I’m okay. It’s just that I seem to have some bruises on my, uh, backside, too. I must have taken a heck of a fall.”

With only the barest trace of guilt, Katie remembered the way she’d lugged him across the ground before dropping him onto the floor. “I’ll drive fast, get there as quickly as possible.” Even in the faint glow from the streetlight, she could see the disapproval on his face. “Just kidding.” She hadn’t been, but she supposed stable people drove the speed limit. “Just relax and lean back. Everything’s under control.” For the moment.

She started the car and headed down the deserted street toward Highway 75. This was her chance. Even if he regained his memory in the next five minutes, he was now trapped with her inside a moving car.

“We’re going to a custody hearing,” she began. “For my orphaned nephew, Nathan Anderson. It’s critical that I win and not my parents.”

“Whew. We just got married and already we’re going to have a son.” He laughed nervously. “I suppose we talked about this before we got married.”

She cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Obviously, the role of father wasn’t comfortable for him. Thank goodness he wasn’t going to be Nathan’s father for real! “Oh, yes. You knew all about Nathan.”

“How old is our potential child?”

“He’s eight, and he’s a sweetie. Let me tell you the story from the beginning, so you’ll understand why this is so important.”

“Fire away. Maybe when I hear familiar stuff, my memory will start coming back.”

That might be, but she’d be willing to bet Travis Rider wasn’t familiar with anything she was about to tell him.

Katie wheeled around a corner, and Rider grunted. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Though he couldn’t have been slung around too much the way he was wedged in. “Okay,” she began. “Twenty—eight years ago, I was born to Ralph and Nadine Logan in Hillsdale, Oklahoma. My impending birth was the reason they got married. I’m not quite sure how I happened. I know they don’t believe in birth control, but I’d have sworn they didn’t believe in sex, either. Anyway, they must have lost control a couple of times because I had a sister three years later. Katherine and Rebecca, they named us, though we go by Katie and Becky. At least, she went by Becky until she died three months ago.”

Katie bit her lip. It was still hard to talk about Becky without crying. Too bad she hadn’t inherited her parents’ stoic control.

No, she corrected herself, it wasn’t too bad. She’d rather cry her eyes out than be like them.

“How’d Becky die?” Rider asked softly.

“Defective space heater. She and her husband, Darryl, died in their sleep. Nathan was spending the night with one of his friends. But I’m getting ahead of my story.”

She checked the traffic, then accelerated up the entrance ramp onto Highway 75.

“Central Expressway’s always busy,” she grumbled. “If you’ve forgotten the traffic jams on this highway, you’re really in bad shape!”

He laughed. It was a nice laugh. Without his mem ory, Travis Rider seemed to be a decent fellow. “I guess I’m in bad shape, then. I don’t remember. So tell me the rest of your story.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sure my parents loved us in their own way.” Actually, she wasn’t at all sure of that fact, but it might be true. “However, neither of them ever forgave the other or me for what happened. The humiliation of having to get married and then the arrival of a seven-month-old baby.”

“Your parents must be pretty old—fashioned. Even as little as I remember, that doesn’t matter to most people anymore.”

“My parents are old—fashioned, stern, rigid people, especially my father. And Mother goes along with anything he says. They were both determined that neither of their children would make the same mistake they made. We worked hard, studied hard, came straight home from school, had no friends, ate everything on our plates, didn’t talk at meals, or between meals for that matter, didn’t make any decisions, not even what to wear to school or how to wear our hair. We had no affection, only rules.”

She paused, wondering if she was saying the right words to make him understand the cold, lonely world she’d grown up in.

Rider laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she flashed him a quick smile.