Reclaiming His Past. Karen Kirst

turned to her. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

      “Grant isn’t dangerous.”

      “I’m talking about guarding your heart.”

      Jessica frowned. “I never said he posed a threat to my emotional well-being.”

      “You didn’t have to.”

      * * *

      Seated across from Jessica in the O’Malleys’ confined dining space, Grant watched her mix bite-size pieces of ham with collard greens, pinto beans and corn bread and sprinkle the pile with Tabasco hot sauce. Scooping up a large portion, she guided the fork to her mouth, pausing when she caught him staring. “What?”

      “That’s...disgusting.”

      “Not to me.” Shrugging, she went back to ignoring him, something she’d been doing since her return from church.

      He turned to Alice, seated in between them at the table’s end. “Has she always done that?”

      A fond smile creased the older woman’s features as she smoothed the napkin in her lap. “Her pa liked his food spicy. Before Tabasco was available, he grew hot peppers and concocted his own sauce. When Jessica was about six or seven, she wanted to try it and he allowed her to. We could tell that it was too much for her, but she dug in without complaint.”

      Grant shook his head, pointing with his fork. “Do you sprinkle hot sauce on your baked goods, as well?”

      Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Of course not.”

      “What do you prefer? Spicy or sweet?”

      She sipped her coffee. “Spicy.”

      “Interesting, coming from a baker.”

      Grant tucked into his food, eating one selection at a time. No mixing for him. The lady’s tastes mimicked her personality. While he didn’t know her well, he’d already glimpsed both spicy and sweet aspects of her nature. Last night, he thought they’d made a connection. Her initial wariness gone, she’d treated him as someone worthy of her trust. When she’d finally admitted that she believed his account of events, he’d been relieved. But then she’d clammed up and retreated inside, and he’d woken this morning to find her already gone. He couldn’t shake the feeling she’d done that deliberately to avoid him.

      She’d arrived home right before lunch and given him the briefest of greetings before disappearing into the kitchen to help Alice.

      What does her opinion matter, anyway? You’re not staying.

      His throat tightened. Without his memories, there was no way to understand his potential, no way to know what kind of life he was meant to lead. He had no money, no physical possessions and no reputation to recommend him. Anyone who hired him would be taking a risk.

      Lost in thought, he didn’t pay heed to the women’s conversation. A slice of apple pie appeared at his elbow minutes later and, startled out of his reverie, he looked up into Jessica’s inquiring gaze. She’d noticed his distraction, had she?

      “When did you have time to make this?” he said.

      “There’s always time for baking.”

      “Baking helps her sort through her problems,” Alice inserted.

      “Ma.”

      “It’s not a national secret, my dear.”

      Circling the table, Jessica resumed her seat, taking her time arranging her skirts. Had she always been this private? Or was it that she didn’t want him knowing her personal quirks?