“Yes, I remember,” Amelia said. “I remember almost everything.” The details of the kidnapping were still hazy and incomplete and probably always would be. It was a huge relief to still remember Amelia. To wake knowing, even if it hurt. It was a relief to have faced the void, to know what was behind the fog that had been her memory. It had been ugly, that last terrible scene when her father told her he wasn’t her father, had never wanted to be, but it hadn’t killed her. She was still here.
So was the question, who am I?
Amelia seemed to be locked firmly inside Prudence, but the fit was a bad one. It was like wearing a straight jacket. How had she endured it all those years? She knew why she endured it now. The people who flowed in and out of her hospital room were more comfortable with tidy, controlled Prudence. They didn’t even see Amelia peering out of her prison. Until the day Luke came.
If he’d come alone…but he didn’t. He brought his partner Mann with him. And Bryn, the FBI agent. While Prudence smiled politely and invited them to sit down, Amelia studied her with interest. She was also tidy, controlled, but seemed to simmer with a secret satisfaction.
“How’s Dewey?” Prudence asked, her voice cool. Amelia noted the color that bloomed in Bryn’s cheeks at the question.
“He’s fine,” Bryn said, looking down at her notes instead of at Prudence.
Amelia noticed Luke hide a grin behind a cough. Amelia was used to the secret world that simmered beneath outward lives. She’d spent many unnoticed hours people watching. It was easy when people didn’t really see her. It was this awareness that had emboldened her to launch her own secret life.
The truth will out. Her infallible memory failed her when she reached for the source of the saying. Maybe she never knew it. Well, the truth was out now. And with a new question? Who will you be? Prudence or Amelia?
The doctors had decided to keep her under observation for a few days and had her talk to a shrink about her memory loss. She’d done as they asked, her Prudence facade polite and reserved. They’d pronounced her healed. Why shouldn’t they? She looked all right. Mostly she was. She was rested now, stronger and ready to face her demons—if she could just get shed of all the people trying to help her. Well, all of them but Luke. Amelia yearned for him. Prudence, and his closed face, held her in check. Had she dreamed the words she thought he whispered to her on the mountain?
Don’t give up. What had he meant? Don’t give up on life? Or on us?
She had her release in hand, was dressed to find her answers, but they’d arrived needing her statement to wrap it all up. How easy it was for them, she thought. They type it up and file it neatly away. Her job was much harder. John Knight’s death had left ragged edges and hanging threads that needed to be sorted out. Her guilty secret? She was relieved he was dead. She wouldn’t have to face him again.
She sat like Prudence for them, feet together, hands on her knees, and answered Luke’s questions delivered in a cop voice with answers in her Prudence voice, while Amelia studied Luke hungrily from behind Prudence’s calm gaze. He was so cute but so distant. The time at the cabin might never have happened if she just looked at his face. When she let her gaze stray beyond that, she noticed the pulse beating in his neck. Beating fast. Inside Prudence, Amelia smiled wickedly. He wasn’t as calm as he looked.
She’d seen the power a woman could have over a man, but this was the first time she could feel that power in herself. Like a baby bird flexing its newly hatched wings, she looked at him, then slowly licked her lips. He twitched so briefly she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it and then tugged at his tie.
Warmth swept through her, delight, too. Both loosened Prudence's hold on Amelia.
Mann cleared his throat, drawing Amelia’s attention away from Luke. Prudence regarded him politely, one brow arched in inquiry. “I’m a little confused about the Amelia persona?”
“It did confuse the issue, didn’t it?” Amelia said, prudently. She hesitated, then said slowly, “I respected John Knight but he was a difficult man to live with. Amelia was a way for me to explore those facets of my personality that didn’t fit in his life without the media making a connection that would cause him distress.”
“You did a good job of that,” Luke said.
Amelia looked at Luke, her eyes wide. “I always try to do my best at anything I take on, Detective.”
Luke swallowed dryly. He gave a good tug on his tie. Damn, he wished he knew what was going on. She looked so cool, butter couldn’t melt in her mouth if it tried. So why was he seeing her in his bed? Was he hoping the comment was double-edge or was it really double-edged?
“And you say Leslie told you,” Bryn asked, “that he killed your father—”
“He’s not my father,” Amelia said, with composure.
Bryn looked up from her notes, exchanging a quick look with Luke. Amelia’s gaze narrowed sharply, as if she sensed he knew something she didn’t.
“Have you spoken with Donovan Kincaid then?” Bryn said.
It was Amelia’s turn to look puzzled. “No.”
“Then how—”
“Dr. Knight told me in the hospital. I realize now that he knew he was dying. I guess he wanted to make sure I knew.”
There was no sign of how she’d felt about the revelation, though his heart contracted at the thought of how it must have hurt her. He understood her better now. Only when she felt safe did her reserve fade away. Knight had tried to stamp out the life in Amelia. That he’d failed was a testament to the resiliency of her spirit.
“Why would Mr. Kincaid know he wasn’t my father—” she stopped, a flare of awareness in her eyes, before the shutters came down again.
Luke wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her while her mind and her heart made the adjustment to this new reality. Mann leaned toward him and whispered, “What am I missing here?”
“Later,” Luke mouthed.
“Donovan is here, on another floor, Miss Knight,” Bryn said. “He was injured in the action at the compound. He was hoping you’d stop by.” Her smile was slight and wry. “I don’t think he believes that you’re really all right.”
She blinked twice, then nodded. “Of course. If you’re finished taking my statement?”
“I’m done,” Bryn said. “You done, Luke? Mann?”
“I’m done,” Luke said. Mann echoed his agreement. They rose in uneasy concert.
Bryn held out her hand. “Thank you for your help. I hope—well, take care.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Luke thought he saw a weighted look pass between them as they shook hands, but he could have been wrong. He often was. Mann shook her hand, too, then it was Luke’s turn.
“When you’re through with—your visit, I can run you home.” He hesitated. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Her smile was polite, but he thought he saw something in her eyes. Or maybe he just hoped he did. Maybe when they were alone, the woman who’d kissed him under the pine tree would return.
“Thank you.” Now it was her turn to hesitate. “I’ll try not to be long.”
She walked past him out the door. He stared after her, until he realized Mann and Bryn were both staring at him, trying not to grin.
“What?” he asked.
They shrugged, looked at each, grinned and walked out of the room. Luke followed them, glad of the time to think before he was alone with her again. He’d told her he took intimacy seriously. That had probably been an understatement. He’d hid it well, sometimes from himself, but he’d been that way from the time his dad died. The jovial surface was a smoke screen he threw up to protect himself from getting hurt again, he realized.
It was interesting that he’d chosen an occupation filled with risk, had hobbies that were, too, but was so unwilling to take one with his heart now. Was his heart less valuable than his life? He sighed, rubbing his face. He hadn’t slept well since he’d gotten back to town. Mostly he paced, mentally reciting the pros and cons of telling Amelia that he loved her. She wasn’t as young as he’d first thought, but she had lived a very sheltered life. Didn’t he owe her time to find her feet, to find out who she was?
The elevator opened without him realizing they’d moved. He followed Bryn and Mann into the lobby. Bryn said her good-byes with a nearly straight face. Mann just shook his head and said, “You got it bad, buddy,” before following her out the door.
That was one way to look at it, he supposed. Or you could say, he had it good.