A Time to Remember

“Husband?” Luc grinned. “But that’s what you are. And I don’t blame you.” He picked up Marissa’s slim, scratched hand, grazing the tip of his finger over her injuries. “She put up quite a fight.”

Gray gulped, thrust away the images his brain conjured up. He could hardly bring himself to ask the next question, but he needed to know.

“You’re sure she wasn’t attacked?”

“Physically I believe she might have been,” Luc told him quietly. “But sexually?” He shook his head. “I did a full rape kit. There’s no evidence of that.”

“Thank God.” Gray sagged with relief.

“Indeed. You should be thanking Him for a lot of things, not the least of which is that your family has been restored to you. A little the worse for wear, perhaps, but they are back.”

“For now. But what’s to stop this from happening again? Who abducted them? We still don’t know that, Luc. And someone must have if her hands were tied.” He reached out, fury raging inside as he traced the unmistakable marks of rope burns.

Luc clapped him on the shoulder.

“I know you’ll probably tell me to mind my own business, but I have to say it anyway. This is something you have to take to God. There’s no other person who has the answers you want. You’re going to have to ask Him to explain it to you.” He turned, pulled open the door.

Gray stepped forward, grabbing his arm.

“Where are you going? Don’t you have to watch her for complications?”

“Someone will be monitoring her, Gray. They’ll keep me up to speed. Right now I’ve got rounds to do.” Luc paused a moment, spared a glance for Marissa, then smiled. “Besides, I’m sure you’re the best company for your wife right now. Why don’t you pull up a chair and just sit here for a while? I’m sure Marissa will have a thousand and one questions when she wakens.”

“Then you think she’s going to regain her memory? All of it?” Relief flooded him. One by one he loosened his fisted fingers. “When?”

“That’s not up to me, I’m afraid.” Luc’s rueful face gave away his feelings. “But God has a plan, buddy. A good one. And He knows what He’s doing. Leave it up to Him. Rest in His care.”

Gray didn’t want to wait for anything. He was sick of the uncertainty, sick of waiting for the next disaster, afraid to learn what waited around the next corner. If he could, he’d gather Marissa up in his arms, find Cody and take both of them back to the safety he could provide at the ranch. Unfortunately, hiding wouldn’t help either of them right now. Marissa needed medical care and Cody needed both of them.

“Did you hear me?” Luc asked.

“Yeah, I heard,” was all he could manage to say.

He stared at Marissa’s still form and wondered if they’d ever regain the life they’d shared, if she’d ever look at him the way she once had. He didn’t deserve it, not after what he’d said. But deep inside, away from the cynicism and anger, hope floated in a little round bubble.

Maybe, just maybe he hadn’t lost everything he loved.

“And Gray?”

“Yeah?” It hurt to look at her and know she felt nothing for him. Gray wheeled around, faced the doctor. “What is it?”

“Cody needs to see her. He needs to touch her and know she’s fine. Then I want him to see a psychologist.”

“Where?” How in the world could he nurse an amnesiac wife, protect his little boy and run a ranch?

“Right here, today. Dr. Scallion is here for his weekly appointments. God evidently knew we’d need the guy, so He had him change his scheduled day in town from yesterday to today. And he’s got lots of time to see Cody.”

“You’re the doctor.”

“Yes, I am. Don’t forget it.” Luc’s voice toughened to the gruff but tender tones Gray had heard him use on obstreperous patients. “Don’t tell me God hasn’t protected those two, Gray McGonigle. I doubt if you’ll ever know just how tenderly He cared for them when you couldn’t.”

The door creaked shut behind him.

Gray walked back to the bed, stared at Marissa’s bruised, battered face, and blood-covered hair, scratched arms. He recalled Cody’s tortured look each time he tried to fall asleep. He remembered his own long days, and even longer nights when he’d stuffed his face in his pillow to stop from sobbing his heart out at their loss.

What kind of tender care was that? What kind of God did that?

Ten thousand times he’d asked the question, ten thousand times he’d come up blank. God, or at least what he knew of God, was supposed to be love. He was supposed to tenderly care for those who followed Him. Marissa wasn’t perfect, but she sure didn’t deserve to be kidnapped by some crazy person. He, on the other hand, probably deserved everything God had sent him, and then some. But why not punish him directly?

He directed his arguments heavenward, but there was no response and his frustration and impotence at the situation burgeoned.

Some time later the door creaked open and Cody peeked around the corner. Gray held out a hand, drew him into the room, smiling at the cookie crumbs on Cody’s lips.

“I was just coming to get you. What have you been eating?”

Cody brought the little white box out from behind his back. He pointed to the delicate red script flowing across one corner. “Blessing Bakery—made with love.”

A creation from Miss Winifred. Gray might have guessed. He smiled at the older woman, motioned her to come inside.

“We had breakfast quite a while ago, then Cody saw a nice doctor. After that we went for lunch. I had Furley bring him over a little treat.” Miss Winifred glanced at the bed, smiled, then looked at him. “I don’t think you realize how long you’ve been in here, Gray. It’s almost two o’clock.”

He glanced at his watch, saw that she was right.

“I apologize, Miss Win. I’ve held you up from work. You’ve been wonderful to look after Cody like this, but he can stay with me now. Marissa woke up once when I first came in, but she’s been asleep ever since. They tell me that’s perfectly normal. That her body needs rest.”

“Yes, Luc told me, as well.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, dear?”

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. He was anything but fine. Still, no sense in upsetting Miss Winifred. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about their situation.

He glanced up, caught her brushing away a tear.

“Did Luc tell you she has amnesia? That she can’t remember anything?”

Miss Blessing nodded.

“Yes, he told me. But she’s alive, Gray. And she’s going to get better. You can thank the Lord for that.”

“Can I?” Bitterness ate at his insides. Cody pressed against his knee and Gray lifted him up, held on to the little boy and tried to tamp down his anger. “Can I also thank Him for allowing my wife to get her skull bashed in? Can I thank Him for taking my son’s voice, for giving me months of unending misery when I didn’t know if they were dead or alive? Can I really thank Him for all that, Miss Winifred?”

As soon as it was said, Gray wished he’d kept his mouth shut. But Winifred Blessing wasn’t abashed by his anger. She didn’t even flinch. Instead her quiet voice rolled over him like salve on a burn, soothing, easing away some of the sting as it cooled and refreshed.

“Yes, you can do all of that, son. You can rant and rave about the injustice of life till your cows come home.” Her eyes sparkling, she lifted her head and dared him to debate her on this. “Or you can get down on your knees and give thanks that God in His wonderful plan decided to give you and your family more time together, that He entrusted them to you for a little longer.”

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, lowering his voice as he became aware that Cody had homed in on the tension between them and didn’t understand. “I made God a promise that if He gave me a son and never let him go through the pain I experienced in my childhood, that I’d be the best possible father I could be.”

“And?”

She was staring at him as if he’d lost his marbles. Gray bristled, all his fears and worries massing together into one swell of raw irritation.