A Baby Between Them

“I’d just driven up to the restaurant,” he said, “and noticed your husband and the big guy fighting. And then I saw you backing up to escape them.”

“You yelled a warning. You yelled Ella.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you ran toward me.”

“I didn’t think you saw or heard me,” he said, glancing at her and away as a big camper whizzed by going the other direction.

“I did but kind of in a hazy way. I was just so worried about that damn knife. And Carl had a gun. I didn’t know before that he…” Her gaze swiveled to him. “You had a gun, too! I glimpsed it in your hand.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why do you carry a gun?”

“I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” he said, but his voice was gentle.

He had a point. Why was she grilling him? Why was she treating him as though she had the right to question anything he did?

He broke the awkward silence by adding, “Would you rather I call you Eleanor?”

“No,” she said at once. “I prefer Ella.”

“Then Ella it is.”

“It was very brave of you to come after me like you did. You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you a fireman?”

“Why would you—oh, because of the rescue?”

“Yes. You know all about ropes. It just seems like the kind of stuff a fireman knows. Don’t they rescue people all the time?”

“Mainly we put out fires,” he said.

“So you are a fireman,” she said. “I was right.” That explained the muscles she’d felt under his clothes as she slid down his body and the way he’d balanced her weight as they scaled the mountain.

“I’m used to helping people out of jams,” he added.

“Let’s get something straight,” she said firmly. “I’m not expecting anything from you but a ride to a car rental place.”

“I understand.”

“I have to find Carl. He’s been lying to me.”

“Aren’t you worried the guy with the knife will catch up with him first?”

It was her turn for evasion. Worried? Hell yes, if it meant he carved Carl into little pieces. She wanted to ask Carl about her father; she didn’t want to find him dead.

Good heavens, was she really such a cold person that she could think like this about a man who claimed they had a good marriage? Yeah, well, he lied; he’d proven that this morning.

The silence was growing and, given the paucity of comforting thoughts in her brain, she blurted out, “You missed breakfast when you rescued me and then I dragged you away.”

“I’ll grab something later. Actually, I seldom eat before noon.”

“My dad was like that. Just coffee with cream. I’d sit in his lap and he’d give me sips.”

The words had left her mouth before she realized the significance of the thought behind them—or maybe a more accurate thing to say would be the lack of thought behind them.

Simon pulled the truck off the road into a lookout and set the warning lights. “You remember your father?” His voice sounded excited.

“Not really,” she said slowly. “I just suddenly remembered sitting on his lap, drinking his coffee, liking the cream.”

But there was more. The warmth of his arm around her waist as he held her, the faint odor of pipe tobacco, his deep voice booming above her head as she took tiny, sweet sips.

Already the memory, so tangible just a second before, began slipping away.

“That’s great,” Simon said. Hooking one strong arm over the steering wheel, he added, “We need to be honest with each other, not hold things back, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. For a second, she was back in his arms, hanging from the rope. She’d been frightened, yes, but she’d also felt safe. She added, “I should tell you about the man in the restaurant. But couldn’t you drive while I did?”

He blinked a couple of times. “The man in the restaurant?”

“This will all make more sense if you know about him.” She motioned with her fingers. “Drive?”

He stared at her a second longer. “Okay,” he finally said, and within a few moments, he had merged back into traffic.

She told him about the old guy and the way he’d contrived to meet with her alone and her conviction that Carl had known about the meeting days before. Simon asked if she was sure the old man didn’t seem familiar in some way, and though she had to admit he’d appeared to be acquainted with her family, she had no idea who he was or who the man he’d called Jerry was, the man he’d said she was the last to see, presumably before she lost her memory.

They passed a sign announcing the next town a mile away. “So you can see why I need to get to Tampoo, Washington, can’t you? I don’t know what’s going on, but it must be serious. My father needs me. And Carl—he knows something he’s not telling.”

Simon slowed down as they entered the city. To Ella’s dismay it was bigger than Rocky Point. “I’ll never find Carl here,” she said.

“No, I don’t think you will,” Simon agreed.

“I thought I’d see our car, but there are hundreds of cars.”

“If he has someone on his tail, he won’t just pull over.”

“And the last time he saw me I was flying off a cliff. He probably thinks I’m dead.” She met Simon’s gaze and swallowed. If not for him, she would have wound up on the beach a long, long ways down.

Finding Carl was impossible, that was clear to her now, whereas it hadn’t been minutes earlier. What else was she missing? Was her light-headed wooziness her natural state of being or was it the result of the concussion?

As she stewed in her own inadequacies, Simon pulled into a grocery store parking lot.

“What are you doing?”