“That’s a relief—”
“Bu-u-ut,” the doctor added.
Drew ran a hand through his hair. For all its wide open spaces, Montana may as well have been Mayberry, U.S.A. Because there weren’t a whole passel of folks around, those that were around knew just about everything there was to know about one another. Except for Doc Parker: he knew more than most. And right now, he knew there was a lot on Drew’s mind.
“But,” Drew began, “it only solves one of my problems.” Absently, he stroked his chin. “Frankly, I’m not sure I know what ‘her old self’ is anymore.” Besides, he’d been given a second chance here, and didn’t want to blow it.
The older man dropped a fatherly hand on Drew’s shoulder. “When I heard you two had split up, it nearly broke my heart.” He gave the shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “But she’s back now, and that’s all that matters.”
Drew met the doctor’s clear blue eyes. “Not if she doesn’t remember leaving me.”
Drew had filled the doctor in on the conversation he’d had with Gabrielle in the kitchen earlier. Parker nodded understandingly and sat behind his battered wood desk. “Take a load off, son,” he instructed, gesturing toward a well-worn maroon leather wingback. Once Drew was settled, the doctor leaned back in his own big black chair and clasped his hands behind his gray-haired head. “Living in horse country, I’ve seen this kind of head injury before, too many times to count—and so have you. We both know it isn’t out of the ordinary for someone to temporarily lose a slice of memory when they’ve taken a good hard bump on the bean.”
Placing his Stetson on the seat of the empty chair beside him, Drew leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said to the floor. He met the doctor’s eyes and waited for an answer.
Shrugging one shoulder, Parker said, “Couple of hours, a few days, never…” He shook his head. “Wish I had a straight answer for you, Drew, but these things are iffy at best.” He lifted his white-bearded chin to ask, “Why is it so important to know when she’ll come around?”
Because, Drew answered silently, when she gets her memory back, she’s likely to leave again.
And he didn’t want that. Not now that he’d had another taste of what it felt like, being close to her, having her arms around him and her lips pressed to his.
“I brought you into this world thirty-two years ago, Drew Cunningham, so I know you better’n just about anybody in these parts. Now, out with it! What’s eating you?”
Gritting his teeth, Drew closed his eyes. “I don’t want to lose her again.” He felt like a man who’d been on death row for nearly a year, and had just gotten a call from the governor’s office.
Parker sat forward, linked his fingers on the green felt desk blotter. “What makes you think that’ll happen?”
He looked around the room and focused on Parker’s medical degrees, framed in black, hanging on the wall behind the desk. “Just—things…”
“The subconscious mind is a strange and miraculous thing, Drew, m’boy. Gabby didn’t go back to her apartment in Livingston after that knock on the noodle. She came straight back to the Walking C. What does that tell you?”
He grunted and scowled. “That she’s lost her ever-lovin’ mind?”
Chuckling, Parker aimed a stubby forefinger at Drew. “No need to act all brave and bad for the likes of me. I’m the man who stitched up your knobby knees when you were knee-high to a gopher, set your broken arm before you were ten. Gabrielle went to the Walking C ’cause, in her heart, that ranch is her home.”
A man can hope, Drew thought. Gabrielle had considered it home, until—
What had happened that night snaked through his mind, making him grimace. Right now, he’d give anything to undo what he’d done, or, at the very least, find a way to do it differently.
Gabrielle breezed into the room before Drew had a chance to verbalize his fears to Parker. “Why the long faces?” she asked. Grinning and wiggling her eyebrows, she added, “I’m not dying or anything, am I?”
Dying! The very thought made Drew’s heart beat double-time. He got to his feet. “Honestly, Gabby,” he complained, scowling, “sometimes your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”
Her gray eyes widened and her smile dimmed. “Sawree,” she said emphatically. One hand beside her mouth, she aimed a loud whisper at Parker. “I take it you just gave him the bill?”
“No, he didn’t,” Drew answered in the doctor’s stead. Then added, “Why do you always tie everything to money?”
Lips narrowed, she raised her left eyebrow. “Maybe,” she began, hands on her hips, “because money is always on your mind!”
Now there’s the Gabrielle who left months ago, Drew said to himself.
“Now, now,” the doctor interrupted, hands raised in mock surrender. “Bickering isn’t going to do any of us any good, me in particular, since I’m such a sensitive soul and all.”
Drew shot him a Who do you think you’re kidding? look and said, “If there’s nothing else, I guess we’ll be on our way.” He thought of the fully saddled horses and groaned inwardly. “I have things to tend to when I get home.”
Gabrielle hung all eight fingertips from her bottom teeth. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, “Triumph and Chum!”
Her anguish immediately diminished Drew’s ire. “Like I said before, they’re big ‘n’ strong—spoiled rotten, for the most part. It won’t kill them to wear their saddles a while longer, just this once.”
It did his heart good to see that his words eased her distress some. Maybe, if she were home to stay, he’d get a chance to find out what in blue blazes made her so all-fired hard on herself all the time.
Drew pressed a palm against the small of Gabrielle’s back to lead her out of Doc Parker’s office. The action reminded him of their wedding night, when he’d guided her in the very same way into their penthouse suite at that fancy hotel in Helena. Gritting his teeth, he touched a forefinger to the brim of his Stetson and snapped off a cowboy salute.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Glad to be of service,” the older gent said as he walked them to the door. “Now, remember what I told you in the examining room, Gabby—take it easy for the next few days. And Drew, don’t forget to—”
“I put fresh batteries in the flashlight just this morning,” he assured. “And I’ll set the alarm for the checkups.”
He wondered how long it would be before she asked him to explain that last part of his conversation with Parker, and counted the seconds as they crossed the parking lot: five, four—as he opened the passenger door—three, two—as he helped her inside—one—
“Checkups?” she asked. “What kind of checkups?”
She was so intent on the question, and its answer, that she didn’t seem to notice that he’d fastened the seat belt for her. “You’re welcome,” he teased, grinning.
A glance at her furrowed brow told him Gabrielle hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. He slid in behind the steering wheel and poked the key into the ignition. “Doc says that for the next day and a half, I have to check your eyes every hour on the hour. If your pupils don’t constrict when the flashlight beam hits them, or if they’re not the same size, it’ll mean trouble, and I’m to get you to the hospital, stat.” He didn’t tell her the part about CAT scans and MRIs. No sense worrying