Page 4 of When I Forgot Us (Blue River #1)

Michelle swallowed twice and rubbed her throat. Her gaze locked onto the two women setting the table. “Why did Aunt Sarah move into an assisted living facility? She seems fine.”

His breath whooshed out. He’d almost rather she’d asked about their past, even though he knew she didn’t have a clue they’d once been so close he’d proposed marriage.

“She puts on a good front, especially with you here.” He’d not meant the words to come out short and sharp, and when Michelle flinched back slightly, he dropped his head.

“I didn’t mean to sound accusing. It was a recent decision.

Upkeep on the house was too much for her to handle alone, and then she found out she has Parkinsons.

It’s not advanced, but she noticed some shaking that made her uncomfortable driving and living alone. ”

Michelle listened with the same kind of calm interest that had drawn him to her as a kid. She never rushed into a decision. Which meant that her decision to leave wasn’t an accident.

Her head swiveled toward him, then back to the kitchen. The color drained from her face, and she twisted her hands tighter. “Did I know?” A quick head shake, followed by, “If I did, I was told more than six months ago.”

Coming to grips with what she’d lost jolted her, and he stepped forward with his hands outstretched in case she went down. It wouldn’t be the first time. The memory of her falling into his arms burned as brightly now as it had 15 years ago.

“Dinner time.” Mom called out in a sing-song voice. She peeked around the edge of the open door, her smile firmly in place. “Come on and grab a seat.”

Michelle scrunched her hands into fists and marched forward with all the enthusiasm of a woman headed to the gallows.

Sarah had already taken a seat on the far side of the table, with Mom sliding in beside her, leaving two chairs open.

He raised an eyebrow at Mom in a silent question, asking why he was being forced to sit beside Michelle.

Mom ignored him and dropped her napkin into her lap. “Chase, will you say grace?”

Michelle’s chair screeched away from the table. Her head snapped up, the look in her eyes full of something he didn’t understand.

“Sure.” He took the chair from Michelle and held it out, scooting it beneath her as she lowered into it.

Her hair brushed over his knuckles when she leaned back, and he yanked his hands away.

Too late. The feel of the silky strands wove through him, stitching together years of heartbreak.

He dropped into his chair and folded his hands together in his lap.

Mom cleared her throat and held out a hand.

He gritted his teeth and glared daggers at her, finally relenting when she raised an eyebrow to challenge him. Why did it matter whether he held Michelle’s hand if he was over her?

Mom took his hand in her right one and Sarah’s in her left.

Michelle’s eyes widened when he held out his hand toward her. So much context in such a small movement. Her hands fluttered in her lap before she raised one and set her palm against his.

Getting struck by lightning might be easier than holding her hand and holding back the way it made his hair stand on end as every nerve came alive.

Her fingers spasmed twice in quick succession.

Stop. The overthinking and reminiscing has to stop.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes.

“Lord, we thank you for bringing us all together today. We ask You to bless this food and to lead us in our daily walk with You. Thank you for friends and family and peace that passes all understanding.” Her hand jerked out of his and landed in her lap with a quiet slap of skin on skin.

Was she as affected by his touch or was it the prayer that bothered her?

“How are things?” Sarah asked in the sudden silence.

Mom spooned green beans onto her plate and passed the bowl to him. “Good. Chase is working with a few new horses, but everything is going well.”

“It’s always a bit of a shock when you hit those good patches.

” Sarah nodded thoughtfully and added a roll to her plate.

“I remember waiting, that breath-holding terror that always came with the good years. Fred called me foolish for anticipating the bad, but it always came. One way or another. Course, God always helped see us through.” She said the last in a low whisper and raised her napkin to blot her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Fred?” Michelle used the tines of her fork to push food around on her plate.

“My late husband.” Sarah sniffed and a watery smile appeared. “He used to give you piggyback rides around the yard.”

He sat back and ate while listening to the stories.

Most of them were fond memories he had forgotten to treasure.

Funny how they didn’t seem important in the minute day-to-day life but when he looked at the rapt attention on Michelle’s face as she was told things she’d forgotten, he realized that memories were deeply ingrained in all of them.

He’d become who he was because of the things that happened in his life.

Who would he be if he suddenly lost all of it? It gave him a newfound respect for Michelle.

“Maybe you’d like to come over sometime and go through our old photos?” Mom tossed the words out like they were not important.

He knew better. Mom never did anything without a reason. And based on the way Sarah gave her a grateful smile, they were both up to something.

The open kitchen/dining room shrank around him. They were too close to each other. So close he smelled her perfume and felt every twitch of her muscles. She crossed her ankles and tucked her feet beneath the chair, sitting forward and propping her elbows on the table.

Sarah and Mom told story after story, reminding each other of long-forgotten details that resurfaced in the retelling. He used to hate sitting and listening to stories about the ‘good old days’ but now he couldn’t turn away.

He shifted away from Michelle and turned his head toward the mantle where pictures of his parents stood tall and proud in silver frames.

His father had been a mountain of a man who looked fierce but was gentle as a kitten.

He’d laughed big, loved hard, and died suddenly not long after Michelle left.

Loss and longing combined with such savageness that he stood and walked from the room.

The voices behind him faded into a dull ringing in his ears.

He kept going until he reached the front porch, stopping there to grab the railing in both hands and squeeze.

The sharp scent of wood and horses cut through him and washed out the lingering aroma of Michelle’s perfume.

He stared across the yard, taking in the barns and fences while mentally tallying all the tasks he needed to finish tomorrow. It helped pull him away from the past and wishing for things to be different.

But tonight, it didn’t help. Not when her face kept rising behind his eyes.

He clenched his jaw. This wasn’t supposed to be his job again. He’d already done the heartbreak. He’d already let her go. He wasn’t going to get pulled into all that again just because she showed up with no memory.

She wasn’t his to help anymore.

He shook his head, arms tightening across his chest. Someone else can help her. She’s got doctors. Family...

The thoughts hung heavy in his heart. The silence pressed in.

He exhaled hard, the fight draining out of him before it ever had a chance to hold.

I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this. His chest ached with the weight of it. I know I’m not by myself. Please help. Lord, I’m not going to be able to see her and talk to her if I keep feeling this way.

One step forward and two steps back.

The urge to help Michelle reclaim her memories swelled again, stronger this time, crashing through his resistance. He could still see the emptiness in her eyes, the flickers of something trying to surface.

How can he do that without losing his heart all over again?

I have to try. Help me try to help her. She deserves that. No one should lose who they are. The life they’ve lived.

Peace slipped in like the first breeze after a storm, wiping out the tightness in his chest.

The back door creaked.

“Chase?” His mom’s voice broke through gently.

He turned partway. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

He rubbed a hand through his hair, down the back of his neck. “Just needed a minute.”

She stepped beside him and a knowing look swept across her features.

He gave a half-shrug. “I don’t know how to do this. She doesn’t remember anything... and I can’t forget.”

His mom laid a soft hand on his arm. “Maybe it’s not about fixing everything. Maybe it’s just about showing up.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “What if I get hurt all over again?”

“You might.” She squeezed his arm gently. “But maybe this time, it’s worth the risk.”

He looked down, nodding slowly. The weight hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted. A little lighter. A little less tangled.

“We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready,” she said softly.

“I’m right behind you,” he replied, and this time, it was a promise.

One last steadying breath, then he turned back toward the house.

Whatever came next, he was committed.

He’d help Michelle find her way back—even if it hurt him.