A Wyoming Christmas To Remember

She bolted upright again, her gaze moving to Sawyer, who pocketed his phone and came back over, sitting down and taking her hand in both of his. “Do I—do we—have children?” she asked him. She couldn’t forget her own children. She couldn’t.

“No,” he said, glancing away for a moment. “Your parents and Jenna will be here in fifteen minutes,” he said. “They’re ecstatic you’re awake. I let them know you might not remember them straightaway.”

“Jenna?” she asked.

“Your twin sister. You’re very close. To your parents too. Your family is incredible—very warm and loving.”

That was good.

She took a deep breath and looked at her hand in his. Her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He wore one, though—a gold band. So where was hers?

“Why aren’t I wearing a wedding ring?” she asked.

His expression changed on a dime. He looked at her, then down at his feet. Dark brown cowboy boots.

Uh oh, she thought. He doesn’t want to tell me. What is that about?

Two orderlies came in just then, and Dr. Addison let Maddie know it was time for her CT scan, and that by the time she was done, her family would probably be here.

“I’ll be waiting right here,” Sawyer said, gently cupping his hand to her cheek.

As the orderlies wheeled her toward the door, she realized she missed Sawyer—looking at him, talking to him, her hand in his, his hand on her face. That had to be a good sign, right?

Even if she wasn’t wearing her ring.

Almost exactly the same time that the orderlies wheeled Maddie back into her hospital room, her family arrived. Sawyer had been hoping for some time alone with Maddie, but he’d get that later at home. Right now, her family needed to see her.

The MacLeods—pronounced MacLoud—all hovered around her bed. They lived up to their name and then some.

“Maddie!” April MacLeod shouted, throwing her arms around her daughter. “Oh goodness, I’m not squeezing any sore spots, am I? Let me look at you. Oh my, that’s some goose egg. But that’ll go down, lickety-split. We brought you chicken noodle soup from that fancy gourmet place you like in Brewer. You love chicken noodle.” She stared at Maddie, then waved her hand in the air. “Did I even tell you who I am? I’m your beloved mother, that’s who. You and your sister here are my world. And this guy—” she slung an arm around her tall, gray-haired husband’s shoulder “—married thirty-four years next Saturday.”

“Glad you’re awake, Maddie-girl,” Ace MacLeod said, giving his daughter a gentle hug. Tears shone in his blue eyes and he blinked them back. “You scared us half to death.”

Jenna MacLeod Spinner leaned down to hug her twin as best she could—her sixth-months-pregnant belly didn’t let her get as close as she clearly wanted. “So word is that you don’t remember anything. Trust me, we’re unforgettable. It’ll come back to you.”

Maddie gave a shy smile. “I hope so. You definitely seem like people I’d like to know.”

April laughed her huge, throaty, I-used-to-smoke laugh. “You adore us. Can’t get enough of us. But you take it easy until the doctor says otherwise. I know you’ll try to come back to work, and I won’t hear of it. Not until you’re cleared.”

Maddie tilted her head. “Work? What do I do?”

“You manage the family business—MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.”

“A multiples emporium?” Maddie repeated. She couldn’t even guess what that was.

“Wedlock Creek, our hometown, is famous for its multiples,” April explained. “The Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel has a legend attached to it—for a hundred years now. Those who marry there will have multiples in some way, whether through luck, a little help from science or through marriage.”

“Which one are Jenna and me?” Maddie asked with a grin.

“Pure luck,” her mom said. “Multiples run on both sides of the family. And since there are so many multiples in town, we started a business devoted to twins and triplets and quads and quints twenty-five years ago. Gift baskets, layettes, baby shower accoutrements, personalized gifts, anything anyone could want to celebrate all things multiples.” She glanced at Sawyer, then smiled down at Maddie. “Well, Maddie-girl, we’re going to let you get out of here. Sawyer will take you home, and we’ll call later to see how you are.”

Maddie gave a quick smile and nod, and it was strange how Sawyer couldn’t read her expressions anymore. He knew her so well. But now that she didn’t even know how she felt about anything or anyone, all her reactions were new to him.

An hour later, after eating a light lunch and having her vitals checked again, Dr. Addison ran through some instructions, handed over the discharge papers and Maddie was free to leave.

“Earlier I asked your mom to stop by the house and bring you clothes to change into,” Sawyer said. “And your favorite boots.” He handed her an overnight bag.

“Ah, thank you. I’ll just be a bit.” She headed into the bathroom with the bag.

Why aren’t I wearing my wedding ring?

He hadn’t answered that question, and he was sure she was going to ask again. But he didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to talk about any of that.

He shouldn’t be almost glad that she’d forgotten what had made her drive away from him the morning she’d crashed her car. He couldn’t take back what he’d said, even if he hadn’t meant it, even if he’d said it in anger and frustration. He had said it—and Maddie couldn’t remember.

He was going to have to tell her the truth.

His phone pinged with a text. His rookie, Justin Mobley.

Hey, Chief. Annie Potterowski’s beagle swiped a hot pretzel out of a kid’s hand by the chapel earlier, and the parents want to file a formal complaint. Apparently, it’s the second time in a month. I’ll handle it.

Sawyer texted back.

Just what I like to hear.

Welcome to Wedlock Creek, where food-snatching beagles accounted for half the crime. The other half was the usual—expired car registration, vandalism, the odd burglary, car accidents, teenagers up to old tricks, fights and occasionally more serious issues. Sawyer had lived in Wedlock Creek his entire life, and very little surprised him. Except what had come out of his mouth the morning of Maddie’s crash. And the crash itself. And the memory loss.

His wife didn’t remember any of it. The past few months and how hard things had been. Maddie grabbing her cool-gel pillow and stomping from their bedroom to the living room to sleep on the sofa. The conversations that always ended in arguments and then stalemates. She didn’t remember any of that.

It’s like we can have a fresh start, he thought. Unfairly. Because Maddie was who she was and wanted what she wanted. And she would regain her memory—within a few weeks, if that long. And then what? They would be in exactly the place they were before she’d driven off—and hit the guardrail.

She came out of the bathroom looking more like herself—her beautiful long light brown hair was out if its ponytail, and she’d exchanged the hospital gown for an off-white sweater and jeans. And her favorite footwear, red cowboy boots.

“I stared at myself in the mirror for quite a while,” she said with a smile. “I look a lot like my twin. Except for the pregnant belly.”

For a moment, a hot surge of panic hit him. He thought she’d regained her memory—and that she’d tell him she wasn’t going anywhere with him. But he could tell by her warm, open expression that she had no memory of how she and Jenna had always talked of being pregnant at the same time, new mothers together, new aunts to each other’s babies together.

She didn’t remember any of that.

He slung her bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” she said.

This had to be so strange for her. Following him blindly, not recognizing a thing about him or her past or anyone.

He put the bag down and looked directly at her. “Maddie, I want you to know that I love you very much. I’ve loved you since we were both five years old, and I’ll love you when I’m ninety-two. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you just say the word, okay?”

He’d caught them both by surprise with that. She stared at him for a moment, then her expression softened. “I appreciate that. And did you say since we were five years old?”