The Husband She'd Never Met

At least her mother’s voice sounded just as Carrie remembered.

‘Mum, it’s me,’ she said, trying to keep her own voice calm. ‘Carrie. I’m in hospital. I’m OK, or at least I feel OK, but can you ring me back, please?’

As she left this message Max waited patiently, with his big hands resting lightly on his hips. He nodded when she was finished. ‘I’m sure Sylvia will ring back.’

Sylvia. Max Kincaid knew that her mother’s name was Sylvia.

Feeling more nervous than ever now, Carrie picked up the familiar purse. While she was waiting for her mother’s call she might as well check the driver’s licence.

Please let it say that I’m Carrie Barnes.

The usual spread of cards were slotted into the purse’s plastic sleeves, and right up front was the driver’s licence. Carrie saw immediately that, while the photo was typically unflattering, the picture was definitely of her face. There could be no doubt about that.

And then her gaze flashed to the details...

Name: Carrie Susannah Kincaid.

Sex: Female.

Height: 165 cm.

Date of birth: July 8th 1985.

Address: Riverslea Downs station,

Jilljinda, Queensland.

Her heart took off like a startled bird.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Her headache returned. She sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. This was either a huge hoax or the hospital staff were right. She had amnesia and had forgotten that she was married to Max Kincaid.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘You’ve had an accident, Carrie.’ He spoke gently. ‘A fall from a horse. A head injury.’

‘But if I can remember my name, and my mother’s name, why can’t I remember anything else... Why can’t I remember you?’

Max Kincaid gave an uncomfortable shrug. ‘The doctor is confident you’ll get your memory back.’

The problem was that right now Carrie wasn’t sure that she wanted her memory to come back. Did she really want to know that it was all true? That she wasn’t a city girl any more? That she lived on a cattle property and was married to this strange man?

It was far too confronting.

She wanted the reassuring comfort of the life she knew and remembered—as a single girl in Sydney, with a reasonably interesting and well-paid job at an advertising agency and a trendy little flat in Surry Hills. Plus her friends. Friday nights at Hillier’s Bar. Saturday afternoons watching football or going to the beach at Bondi or Coogee. Every second Sunday evening at her mother’s.

It was so weird to be able to recall all these details so vividly and yet have no memory of ever meeting Max Kincaid. Even weirder and more daunting was the suggestion that they hadn’t merely met, but were married.

Did she really live with this strange man in the Outback?

Surely that was impossible. She’d never had a hankering for the Outback. She knew how hard that life was, with heat and dust and flies, not to mention drought and famine, or bushfires and floods. She was quite sure she wasn’t tough enough for it.

But perhaps more importantly, if she was married to this man...she must have slept with him. Probably many times.

Involuntarily Carrie flashed her gaze again to his big shoulders and hands. His solid thighs encased in denim. She imagined him touching her intimately. Touching her breasts, her thighs. Heat rushed over her skin, flaring and leaping like a bushfire in a wind gust.

For a second, almost as if he’d guessed her thoughts, his blue eyes blazed. Carrie found herself mesmerised. Max’s eyes were sensational. Movie star sensational. For a giddy moment she thought he was going to try to lean in, to kiss her.

On a knife-edge of expectation, she held her breath.

But Max made no move. Instead, he said, matter-of-factly, ‘I’m told that you can check out of the hospital now. I’m to take you to Townsville. For tests—more X-rays.’

Carrie sighed.

He picked up the holdall he’d brought with him and set it on the chair beside her bed. ‘I brought clean clothes for you.’

‘My clothes?’

His mouth tilted in a crooked smile. ‘Yes, Carrie. Your clothes.’

He must have gone through her wardrobe and her underwear drawer, making a selection. Invading her privacy. Or was he simply being a thoughtful husband?

If only she knew the truth. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Do you need a hand?’

Instinctively her gaze dropped to his hands. Again. Dear heaven, she was hopeless. ‘How do you mean?’

‘With getting out of bed? Or getting dressed?’

She was quite sure she blushed. ‘No, thanks. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll be outside, then.’ With the most fleeting of smiles, Max left.

* * *

In the hospital hallway, Max dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he tried to ease the gnawing anxiety that had stayed with him since his initial panic yesterday, when he’d heard about Carrie’s accident. He’d never experienced such gut-wrenching dread.

In that moment he’d known the true agony of loving someone, of knowing his loved one was in trouble and feeling helpless. He’d wanted to jump in his vehicle and race straight to the hospital, but Doug had warned him to hold off. Carrie was sleeping and probably wouldn’t wake before morning.

Now, Max felt only marginally calmer. Carrie was out of danger, but he was left facing the bald facts. Two days ago his wife had walked out on him. Today she had no memory of ever meeting him.

It was a hell of a situation.

One thing was certain: he had no hope of sorting anything out with Carrie if she didn’t even know who he was. But by the same token, there was no question that he wouldn’t look after her until she was well again. He was still her husband, after all. He still loved her. Deeply.

And he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Carrie still loved him, that she hadn’t been totally honest about her reasons for leaving. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking. There was a strong possibility that when Carrie’s memory returned she would also recall all her grievances in vivid detail.