Song From the Sea (37 page)

When she felt a little calmer, she carefully laid aside the precious picture and slowly began to go through the cases, poring over each piece of clothing, each little trinket, everything a treasure to her, everything with a story to tell, no matter how small, and no matter how little she remembered. But that was the problem: she held her past in her hands, and instead of the joy that she'd expected, she felt nothing but a hollow, aching emptiness.

Maybe she hadn't left her ghosts behind her after all.

Adam found her an hour later.

Callie sat on the floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by piles of books and clothes and pictures. He watched her from the door for a few silent minutes, not sure whether to trespass on what was obviously a very private time.

She looked so young and so lovely, so innocent and yet wise beyond telling, peaceful, and yet … sad, as if beneath her happiness she couldn't help feeling her loss. He couldn't imagine how he might feel if he held something tangible in his hands but couldn't connect it properly to its importance.

But he did know, he suddenly realized. How many times had he felt the same way? Even now, in a rare, unguarded moment, he would hear something and he'd instinctively turn, his arms reaching out to catch Ian, but his arms found only air and emptiness.

He knew exactly how she felt.

He walked over to her and dropped down next to her. “Are you all right, Callie?” he asked quietly.

She looked over at him and smiled, but her mouth trembled at the corners. “Yes—yes, I'm fine. Look, Adam. All my things. All my memories.”

“I know. All your memories, and yet you feel as if you're clutching at straws, is that it?”

She looked down and nodded, her fair hair falling forward to cover her cheeks. “How did you know?”

“Because I just realized that I often feel the same way.”

“Oh, Adam,” Callie said, reaching out for him and pulling him close. “Of course you do. We're an odd pair, aren't we? I don't remember anything, and you remember too much.”

“Maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle,” he said. “I'll give you all sorts of new memories and you can help me put aside some of my old ones. How would that be? We can start right away, this very day.”

“I think that would be very nice,” Callie said, nuzzling her face into his neck as if she could find comfort there.

“All right, then. I know just where to start. I need to take Gabriel out for a quick bit of exercise, for I've neglected him badly the last two days and he becomes impossibly feisty if I don't give him a good run, but after that we can take a walk out to the cliffs. There's something I'd like to show you, if you have the patience to bear with me. I know you haven't gone out there yet, and I completely understand why, but will you come with me if I ask you?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes completely trusting. “Of course I will.”

“Good. I'll come back to fetch you. I shouldn't be too long.”

“No—wait. I'll walk down to the stables with you, for there are some plants there that I noticed the other day and would like to collect. We can go to the cliffs when you're done with Gabriel. I think I could use as much fresh air as I can drink in just now, and I'm done in here. I'll ask Jane to tidy everything away.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Adam stood and helped Callie to her feet, and together they left the room, hand in hand.

“I'll admit I'm mightily confused, Mrs. Simpson, but there it is.” Gettis wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “I know I didn't mistake what Mr. Harold said, and I read the words in his lordship's letter. Miss Melbourne, it said, clear as day.”

“I don't understand, Mr. Gettis. His lordship
said
Miss Callie's surname was Magnus. Why would he say that if it wasn't true?” Mrs. Plimpton sat down in her armchair, where she always took her troubles.

Gettis scratched his ear. “I don't know. Now Mr. Harold also said that Miss Callie—her ladyship—was on her way to Dover to pay a visit to him and that mother of his. He said she missed her sailing, so he collected her baggage, and we know that's true since he just brought it over. He claimed acquaintanceship with her, and I find that very strange indeed, because we all know how much his lordship dislikes that branch of the family, and for good reason. What was Miss Callie doing going to visit the likes of them, I ask?”

“That's beside the point,” Mrs. Simpson said. “We know something that Mr. Harold doesn't, don't we, Gettis? We know the poor poppet fell off her ship right into the sea and his lordship rescued her.
I
think that his lordship found out that Mr. Harold had designs on our poppet and his lordship gave her a different name to protect her, just in case Mr. Harold got wind that there was a Miss Melbourne staying here at Stanton.”

Gettis narrowed his eyes. “Designs, you say? Why, that arrogant, miserable piece of vermin! I should have—I should have taken the whip right off the box and given him a good lashing with it.”

“You sent him away with a tongue-lashing, and that was good enough for now. His lordship will see to the rest, you can be sure of that. There's going to be a proper dust-up when he discovers that Mr. Harold had the effrontery to come right to the front door and demand to see the poppet. Cheek, I call that. You did well, Mr. Gettis, in dispatching him right back to where he came from.”

“But I told his lordship as soon as he returned home, and he didn't say a word. Not a word, Mrs. Simpson. He just nodded, and then went straight upstairs to see her ladyship.”

“That's his lordship all over, the dear boy. He keeps his own council and acts when he sees fit. You can be sure that he'll keep our poppet safe. He married her, didn't he?” Her eyes suddenly widened and her plump hand flew to her bosom. “Good heavens, Mr. Gettis! You don't suppose the poppet actually jumped off that ship to avoid being handed over to Mr. Harold? Oh, the poor, poor dear. She must have thought that a watery grave was a better fate than—than being consigned to that dreadful man.” Mrs. Simpson pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose soundly.

Mr. Gettis abruptly sat down, the shock taking his breath away. “Oh, my goodness. Oh, my dear goodness gracious. Yes, of course … She had no one in the world to protect her, did she? The poor, brave soul—she must have been truly desperate. Thank goodness that his lordship happened along when he did or it would have ended very badly, very badly indeed.”

“That's Fate, Mr. Gettis. Fate sent his lordship out into the raging sea to rescue our poppet, and Fate sent our poppet leaping off that boat and straight into his lordship's arms to bring happiness back into his life. Didn't he fall in love with her right from the beginning and she with him? It's a Great Romance, a truly Great Romance, written in the stars to be sure. I declare, I've never been so moved.” She mopped her eyes. “You see, Mr. Gettis, it only goes to show that One Never Knows.”

“One never knows what?” Gettis said, thoroughly confused. Mrs. Simpson had lost him when she started on about Fate.

“One Never Knows Why Things Happen or What Is Meant to Be,” Mrs. Simpson replied impatiently.

“The only thing I know is that I could use a large glass of cognac. My nerves are badly shaken. Just the thought that we might have lost Miss Callie like that, never had her here at Stanton to brighten all our lives—it really doesn't bear thinking about. And it's all that Mr. Harold's fault that it was such a near thing. He always was a troublemaker, that one. I sincerely hope we've seen the last of him and his nasty tricks.”

“The Lord will provide, Mr. Gettis. The Lord will provide.”

Adam left Callie gathering herbs outside the stable yard entrance. She looked content, so he felt comfortable leaving her to her work. It would give her something to think about other than her lost past. It was ironic, he thought. He could give her nearly anything material, and he could give her safety and security, but the one thing she truly wanted was completely beyond his ability to provide. He felt both saddened and frustrated, for without her memory, Callie would always carry an empty place in her heart, and she was a person whose heart should be whole and filled with happiness. It seemed so unfair—Callie gave so generously of herself to everyone around her, and she did it without a second thought. Her gesture today when she'd asked that her inheritance be used to purchase the grange had been the perfect example of that, and that gesture had nearly leveled him. He couldn't be any fonder of her if he tried.

He had a quick word with Kincaid, wanting to know how the two new mares were settling in. He'd bought one just for Callie, a nice, placid bay. He intended to give it to her as a surprise, at some point in the future when he felt more confident about her recovery—not that she'd exhibited anything but the best of health in the last two weeks, and given her performance in the bedroom last night, she did seem to have an abundance of strength and stamina.

Adam grinned as he waited for Gabriel to be saddled up. He'd make this a very short ride, for he wanted to get back to Callie as soon as possible. He was anxious to take her out to the cliffs, for he thought that maybe he could help her overcome one of her fears. She couldn't live on the coast of Kent and avoid the water forever—not that she'd ever mentioned being afraid, but being Callie, she wouldn't. He'd made the assumption because he knew full well she had gone in every direction but that one, and she'd never once asked him to take her out there himself— odd for a woman who delighted in every form of plant and animal life, which the cliffs abounded with.

Haskins brought Gabriel out of the stables, his hand tight on the reins. “He's a bit nervous today, my lord,” Haskins said as Gabriel released a high whinny. “It must be the new mares, for he's been sidling and pawing since I took him out of the stall. I had the devil of a time just doing up the girth.”

“He'll be all right once he has a good run,” Adam said. “You're probably right, though, Haskins. The smell of new female blood has probably gone to his head. Isn't that right, Gabriel,” he said, running his hand down the gelding's neck. “I imagine you probably feel ignored on top of it all, but I've had a female of my own to attend to.”

Gabriel snorted and shook his head, his nostrils flaring and his eyes rolling.

“Come on, then, my lad, let's stretch your legs.” He took the reins from Haskins and put his foot into the stirrup and his hand on Gabriel's withers and swung his other leg over the saddle, abruptly freezing in mid-motion at the sound of Callie's panicked voice.

“Adam! Adam, no—something's wrong!” Callie cried, tearing into the stable yard and running directly up to him. “Get off him—get off him now, he's in trouble!”

Adam didn't hesitate. He immediately started to dismount, but he was a fraction too late. Gabriel reared with an ear-shattering scream, and Adam, already off balance, had no way to recover. Instinctively he released the reins and pulled his foot free from the stirrup as he was catapulted backward through the air, twisting sideways to take the force of his fall off his back. To his horror, in that last split second he registered Callie standing directly in his path. There was nothing he could do. As he landed he knocked her over with the force of his weight, and it was Callie who fell backward, hitting her head on the packed earth.

In the worst of all possible ironies, Callie's body cushioned his fall.

Pandemonium broke out around him. Adam immediately rolled over to protect Callie from Gabriel's flailing hooves, using his body as a shield.

“We have him, my lord!” someone cried, but he barely heard through his panic.

“Callie?” He lifted himself up on his forearms and looked down at her still face, her eyes closed as if in sleep. “Callie?”

It was his nightmare all over again, only this time it was Callie who lay unmoving, Callie who didn't respond to her name, Callie whom he'd failed to protect.

“God, please, please, no,” he moaned, slipping his hand under her head and pulling her limp body up into his arms. “Please don't leave me, please open your eyes.” He felt her chest to see if she was breathing, but his hand shook so badly he could feel nothing but his own trembling.

“Dear God, you can't let her die,” he whispered, praying with all his heart and soul. “Punish me for having doubted in You, but she's never doubted a moment in her life. You can't take her now, not now.” He bent his head and pressed his wet cheek against her hair.

“You're—you're s-suffocating me.”

His head shot up, only to see Callie looking straight at him, her eyes a little dazed, but otherwise very much filled with life.

“Callie—oh, thank God! Thank God,” he repeated with a sigh of infinite relief.

She didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him with an expression of complete and utter surprise, then blinked, and blinked again.

The most appalling thought occurred to Adam: If she'd lost her memory the first time she'd hit her head, what if she'd lost it again now? He didn't know if he could bear it, not having her know him, thinking him a complete stranger, the entire last wonderful month wiped out of her head. His heart jerked in his chest in renewed fear, for the way she was looking at him made him think he might very well be right.

“Callie?” he said hesitantly. “Do you know who I am?”

A laugh escaped her throat, and then another, and then she started laughing as if she'd never stop, clutching his arm, tears running down her cheeks.

Adam didn't know what to do or what to think. Maybe the blow to her head had damaged her brain beyond repair.

“Stop,” she said, when she finally caught her breath. “Stop looking at me like that. I remember everything.”

“You know who I am?” he asked tentatively.

“Of course I do. You're my husband. How could I forget something as important as that?” she said with a grin. “Help me to sit up properly, for you're half crushing me.”

Adam, relieved all over again, instantly complied, turning her to face him. “Don't move,” he said. “Let me make sure you haven't broken anything.”

“I'm fine,” she said, pushing his hands away. “Adam, honestly, I'm not a china doll. I don't break that easily. I'd think you would know that by now.”