“Mommy!” A miniature blond whirlwind appeared on the step.

Mommy? Dallas blinked as his wife grasped one tiny hand and led the child to stand in front of him.

”I want you to meet someone, Misty,” Gracie said. “This is Dallas. He’s your daddy.”

“My daddy?” The tiny girl wearing a mussed blue dress touched his knee, and in doing so, grabbed hold of Dallas’s heart.

His daughter.

She was an immature version of her mom. Feathery, golden curls spilled to her shoulders. Perfect features in a sun-kissed face.

But Misty wasn’t all Gracie. The jut of her chin, the dimple that flickered at the edge of her mouth—he knew those were his gifts to her. He’d studied his own features in the mirror so often, trying to remember who he was.

He was a father.

LOIS RICHER

likes variety. From her time in human resources management to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises.

“Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding, “Then what, Mom?”

The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

A Cowboy’s Honor
Lois Richer

…And we confidently and joyfully look forward to becoming all that He has had in mind for us to be.

—Romans 5:2b

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Hope was a wasted effort, thought Gracie Henderson as she walked through the park at the Dallas Arboretum. There on a hillock she found the spot she remembered dearly, where she’d first met her cowboy. Now, staring at the exact spot where he’d entered her life, she noticed a man hunched down in the grass. Birds gathered around him, swooping down from the sky. They landed on toothpick legs, then moved toward him in tiny stops and starts.

Intrigued, Gracie paused to watch.

The man’s face was turned away from her, but something about the way he sat, something in his frozen stillness would not let her look away.

He pulled off a morsel of whatever was in his hand with exaggerated slowness. Without so much as a muscle twitch he held it out, wordlessly coaxing the birds nearer until they lit upon his hand and pecked the food from his fingers. Entranced children flocked near the bird man, trying to emulate his success with the feathered animals as their bemused families watched.

Gracie blinked, checked her watch. Not a lot of time to spare. Since the wrought-iron bench she sought out was unoccupied, she sat down, but left her lunch bag unopened. In this particular place, in the warm rays of the May sun, her aching soul felt soothing relief.

Gracie had been back in Texas only a week, but that was long enough to dull her memories of the cooler North Dakota spring she’d left behind. It was almost long enough for Dallas’s southern heat to evaporate the chill encasing her heart.

For the next six months they would be safe.

She pressed her back against the warm metal and soaked in the lake view, breathed the heady scents of blooming alyssum and freshly mowed grass, listened to the breeze rustle the lush leaves of a nearby cottonwood. All of it combined sent her thoughts headlong into the past, into emotions she’d struggled to bury.

She’d been so happy that day, so trusting.

Reality splashed down like a cold shower, reminding her that her blissful joy had lasted eight short days. At least she’d learned from that. Now she took precautions, made sure before she leaped.

With effort Gracie pushed away the hurt and opened her lunch bag. From the corner of her eye she noticed the man rise. He ambled across the grass, pausing to sniff at a bed of flowers, then pluck a tumbled leaf from the grass.

Gracie bit into her chicken salad sandwich and closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to savor her lunch. Simple joys. She’d learned not to take them for granted.

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?”

Gracie blinked, stared at the owner of that butter-smooth voice.

Her heart stopped.

He looked so real standing in front of her, watching her with a quizzical stare. Nothing at all like the man in her dreams. Her cowboy.

“Dallas?” she squeaked. Gracie’s heart beat in a painful rhythm, and she grasped the edge of the bench for support.

“It’s a pretty city, but I didn’t know it would be so hot.” He swiped a hand across his forehead, smiled. A familiar dimple peeked out from the corner of his mouth. “And this is only spring.”

How she’d missed those bittersweet eyes.

“You’ve chosen the prettiest spot. Do you mind if I share it?”

Gracie shook her head. Her limbs trembled with excitement until terror, cold as Arctic ice, grabbed hold, plunging her from delight to dread in two seconds flat. Something was wrong.

She didn’t know what to ask first.

Dallas didn’t try to break the silence between them. In fact, he seemed to relish it. A faint smile curved his lips as a bird flitted closer to beg for food.

It was a mirage, a dream. It had to be. Only Gracie couldn’t wake up.

So many times, through long sleepless nights and terror-filled days, she’d longed to share her burden, to talk to him, to lean against his shoulder and know she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

After the first year alone, filled with questions that were never answered, she’d shoved him out of her mind and never permitted herself to imagine him coming back.

Now here he was.

“Where have you been, Dallas?” Rage replaced curiosity. “Did you even consider how worried I was? Surely you could have called, written—something?”

Terror filled his face. He was afraid? Of her?

He jumped up from the grass.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, ma’am. I’m sorry I…”

Brown eyes brimmed with shadows she didn’t understand. But his fear was obvious. A riot of emotions flashed in his eyes, a wariness she’d never expected. As if she were a stranger.

Gracie stood up in turn, touched his arm. “Don’t you think you owe me some kind of explanation, Dallas?”

He fidgeted as if he found her touch painful. Then he grew still and his eyes met hers for the first time.

Empty eyes.

“You…know me?”

She might have missed his question if she hadn’t been standing inches away.

“Of course I know you.” Anger chased frustration. “What are you playing at, Dallas?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow. “So my name is Dallas.”

Gracie pulled back. This was not the man she knew. This was a stranger in his body—a wary stranger who showed no signs of recognizing her. She longed to shake him, to finally pry loose the responses she’d been denied. But his uncertainty, the watchful way he peeked at her, like one of those wary birds he’d been feeding…Gracie gulped down her bitterness, sought nonchalance.

“What’s been going on with you, Dallas?”

“Dallas what?” He stared into space, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t heard the most important question she’d ever asked.

“Pardon?”

“My last name. What is it?”

“Henderson.”

He turned his focus on her then, obviously mulling over something in his mind. After a moment he stepped back.

Gracie waited for an apology, an explanation. Something. But he continued to regard her with that blank stare.

“Who am I?”

His rushed whisper sounded deadly serious. But Gracie couldn’t quite believe it. And until she figured out if he was playing some kind of game, she had to be cautious.

“Let’s sit down on the bench. You can share my lunch. Please?” she added when it looked as if he’d refuse. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I am. Maybe you could wait while I eat my lunch.” Gracie drew him toward the bench, motioned for him to sit. She needed to buy some time, figure out what to do next. “I have some juice and some coffee. Which would you like?”

“I love coffee.”

He always had.

She handed it over. Dallas removed the lid, sniffed and closed his eyes as he savored the aroma. The familiar gesture brought tears, but Gracie dashed them away.

She would not weep. Not then. Not now.

Not ever.

“This is good coffee. Thank you, ma’am.”

If he had a hat she knew he would have doffed it. Like a gallant cowboy. Her cowboy. The sting pierced deep and hard, but Gracie was used to pain. She ignored it, focused on getting the answers she craved.

“Can you tell me where you’ve been?” For now she had to push back the raging inner voice and try to figure out her next move.

“California.”

“What did you do there?”

“I worked with animals.”

That made sense to Gracie. It didn’t matter why he’d been there. She knew it would have to do with the almost spiritual rapport Dallas had always shared with animals. But that was the only part of Dallas she recognized.

“Did you come to this city straight from California?”

He nodded, accepted the half sandwich she held out, munched on it before speaking. “Yes. I needed to figure out the dream.”

“You had a dream?”

He looked around. “Maybe more of a memory. Of this park, I think. It was different, but it was the same day as today. May 1.” He glanced around, frowned. “I kept hearing a word. Dallas. So I came to Dallas.” He pulled on his earlobe, fiddled with a shirt button. “I know that sounds weird.”

The significance of the date may have escaped him, but Gracie couldn’t forget.

“My name is Dallas. Dallas Henderson,” he repeated.

She held her breath as she gently probed. “You say you couldn’t remember your name before?”

“It was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t catch it. Do you know how that is?” He held out a bit of crust from his sandwich. The big, generous smile she remembered so well flashed when a bird hopped onto his knee and took the bread.

“Dallas, do you know my name?”

The smile vanished when he turned sideways to study her. “No.”

“My name is Gracie.”

“Hello, Gracie.” He held out a hand, shook hers with solemn formality. “Pleased to meet you. You’re very lovely. Your eyes are the color of bluebells.”

“Thank you.” She detected no sign of recognition on his face. For now she’d have to assume he wasn’t pretending. Her heart jerked.

“Do you know me well?” Dallas played with his pant leg while he waited for her answer.

“I thought I did.”

“Oh.” He lifted his head, searched her face. “How did we know each other?”

“We met in this park.” Gracie wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “Over there. Where you were feeding the birds. On that hillock. I was here on a vacation during college.”

“So I came back to a familiar place.” He nodded, his brown eyes pensive. “The doctors said I might.”

Doctors…So he’d been in hospital?

“Do you remember anything about being here before? About me?”

“Nothing is clear.” His rubbed his temple, his visible agitation warning her to proceed with caution. “If I could only—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Concerned about the white pinch of his lips, she pushed back her own gnawing uncertainties. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“You’re the first person I’ve met who knows me. I want to talk, to figure things out,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “I just don’t know what to talk about. I—I’m afraid.”

Yes, she’d seen fear crawl into his dark eyes a few moments ago. She just hadn’t recognized it. Dallas had never been afraid. Of anything.

“What is it you’re afraid of?”

“There must be a reason I can’t remember. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I committed a crime, ran away from the law or something.” He kept his head bent. “Maybe I was in jail and I don’t want to go back.”

It was so preposterous Gracie almost laughed—until she saw his hand shake as he brushed away some crumbs.

“I knew you very well, Dallas, and I’m fairly certain you were never in jail. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Then why don’t I remember anything?”

“I’m sure you will. Don’t worry, you’ll think of plenty of things to talk about in a while. Didn’t the doctors say not to try too hard?”

He scanned the park once more before his gaze came to rest on her. “You know, I wasn’t sure why I kept dreaming the word Dallas but it seemed like God was leading me to this city. This is only my second day here but it feels right. Not like California did. I didn’t belong there.”

God led him here? Or had chance?

Gracie preferred to think God hadn’t deliberately done this to her.

Having found a subject, Dallas seemed inclined to talk. “Yesterday I looked at some maps in the library. I saw White Rock Lake and an article about the arboretum. It sounds silly, but they both seemed familiar. So I decided to see for myself. But when I got here, I couldn’t remember anything more. Everything is a big blank.”

“Are you staying nearby?”

“At a small motel not far away. And there’s a diner near it. It’s okay.”

She handed him one of her cookies, mostly to buy time to think.

So Dallas was back—a different Dallas. One who had no knowledge of their past. It was unbelievable, something she’d never anticipated.

“When you knew me…” He spoke haltingly, as if still fearful of the answers his questions might bring. “What did I do? For a job, I mean.”

“You’re an animal behavior specialist,” Gracie told him. That part was easy. “When I knew you, you had almost finished a contract working for a multinational company, traveling a lot to complete a research project. You talked about training horses after that. For police patrols, in New York, maybe? I’m not sure. You spoke of a number of different options, but they always included horses.”

“Hey, maybe I was a cowboy.” He grinned.

You were. My cowboy.

You were supposed to come home.

Dallas crumbled the rest of the cookie, held his outstretched hand on the bench and waited. After a moment another bird approached, and before many minutes had elapsed, it was eating from his hand.

“Do you know where I used to live in the city?”

“Actually, when I knew you, you had a place in Houston when you came back from traveling. I think your company owned it.” Gracie hesitated to tell him more, her fear crowding out the joy she’d begun to allow.

This was not the Dallas she’d known. This man was a stranger. Every sense warned her to be careful about what she told him. Thankfully, she wasn’t the same naive woman she’d once been.

Things had changed.

Don’t forget the past. To relax her guard now could cost her everything.

“Please tell me what you know,” he begged, withdrawing his hand so quickly the bird hopped backward, chattering angrily. “Please.”

When she didn’t speak Dallas bent forward, holding her gaze with his own. “I want to go home,” he begged. “I’ve been away so long. Please tell me where I belong.”

The ache underlying those words was Gracie’s undoing.

“You belong to me,” she whispered. “I’m your wife. We were married in this park six years ago today. May 1.”

For what seemed eternity Dallas said nothing, simply stared at her with an intensity that made her catch her breath. Then he reached up, cupped her chin in his palm as if he couldn’t help himself.

The action was so Dallas, Gracie had to blink back tears.

“I have a wife.” He might have said, I’m not alone, so great was the relief in his voice. “I am a married man.”

Gracie glanced at his left hand. Her stomach clenched. His ring finger was bare, missing the plain gold band she’d slid on it six years ago.

“Do we live nearby, Gracie?”

“No.”

Though she struggled to find a balance between his need to know and her need to feel safe, Gracie couldn’t deny this man was her husband. The green-gold eyes that had once melted with love for her, the hazel irises that deepened to a rich forest shade when he was serious, but lit up like Pharaoh’s gold when he laughed—they were the same.

His hair was longer now, shaggy and unruly, matching his rumpled clothing and generally disheveled state. There were a few silver strands among the dark, just above his ears. He was thinner than he’d been, his jeans loose on the lean body he’d once kept in shape by jogging. Sunken cheeks and haunted eyes told her he’d survived some trauma.

But underneath he was still Dallas, still her husband.

And she knew nothing of how he’d spent the past six years.

“Where do we live?”

She could tell him that. It didn’t matter now.

“We used to live in North Dakota in a little town called Turtleford. I’m a vet. My father had a practice there. I worked with him while you traveled for your business.”

“The house where we lived—was it a big kind of farmhouse with dormers and a high peaked roof?”

She nodded, surprised by the description.

“I dreamed about it,” he said, eyes wide. “And a purple bedroom.”

Gracie smiled and nodded.

“You claimed the bedspread and drapes looked less intense in the store where you bought them.”

I loved them because you gave them to me. I loved you.

Pain sliced through Gracie’s heart.

“I haven’t seen you in six years, Dallas. You left on a business trip out west, to Washington, and I never heard from you again. Do you have any idea why?”

She couldn’t have stopped the question even if she’d wanted to. It had lain unanswered in her mind for too long. Now desperation demanded to know how the man who’d professed to love her more than life could walk away from everything they’d promised each other.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze roved the park, returned to her, dazed and confused. “I don’t know anything except that about three months ago I woke up in a hospital in California. They said I’d been in a coma for almost six years. I had no identification, no money. Ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out who I am.”

Gracie’s heart cracked.

“I felt like there was somebody I belonged to, someone who knew about my past, but I couldn’t figure out whom. I guess I was thinking of you.”

A smile pushed up the corners of his mouth but was quickly replaced by a frown of confusion.

“What?” she asked. A hospital…Was he in pain?

“The police put out news alerts and posters, someone set up a tip line, but no one ever called to ask about me. My dreams were the only thing I had to go on.” He glanced around. “Do I have any family?”

I’m your family, a voice inside her screamed. And then a second terrifying thought took over.

His parents.

Stark, cold dread crawled up Gracie’s spine and seized the cords at the back of her neck. Her throat slammed shut, choking off her air supply. Her fingers squeezed together.

Don’t give in to it. Not yet.

They were his parents. They had a right to know Dallas was alive, even if he couldn’t remember who they were. But that didn’t mean she had to be there.

“When I got here I realized I knew my way around.” He continued speaking as if nothing had changed.

And for him it hadn’t.

“I didn’t get lost, I didn’t get confused. You said we met here.” He studied her intently. “I think I know this city.”

Gracie nodded. “Actually, you grew up in Dallas,” she said. “Your parents live here.”

“Parents?” His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t remember. Any siblings?”

“No.”

“Where do my parents live? Can you take me to see them?”

Gracie controlled her breathing. “I don’t know if your parents live in the same place they did when we were married, Dallas. I just moved back here. We…haven’t kept in touch.”

He studied her quizzically, opened his mouth as if to ask why, then closed it.

Gracie blinked, marveled that the world still looked the same. But nothing would ever be the same, and she had to prepare for that.

“Grace—no, Gracie, isn’t it?”

“Gracie.” She blinked, pulling herself back to reality. “Yes.”

“Gracie. Right.” Dallas inhaled. He wrapped his hands around his knee and squeezed so hard his fingertips turned white. “Would you be able to drive me to my parents’ house? I’d like to see them. Maybe then I could remember.”

It was the last thing Gracie wanted to do. Her very soul rebelled. But she could hardly refuse. He was still her husband, he was alone and he was obviously troubled.

She glanced at her watch, battled to do the right thing.

“I can drop you there,” she agreed finally. “But I won’t be able to stay. I’m supposed to be back at the ranch by four.” Her conscience pricked but she ignored it, began gathering up the remains of their lunch.

“The ranch?”

“The Bar None. It’s a ranch for disabled children. I’m working there for the next six months.” She wasn’t going to tell him more. Not yet.

Not until she had to.

“But you said you had a practice with your father.”

“No, I said I worked with him six years ago. He died.” The punch of loss had weakened after all this time. “I had to sell his practice.”

“Oh.” Dallas waited.

Gracie refused to say more, declined to relive those black days now. Maybe in the future she could drag out all that had passed, but even then she wasn’t sure she could explain without demanding to know why Dallas hadn’t been there to help her survive.

“I’m parked over here.” She pointed, stepped forward, then paused. “Do you have any belongings we need to pick up from your hotel?”

Dallas turned so she could see a small backpack. “Everything I own is in this.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” Gracie hurried away from her favorite spot, pausing briefly to toss out the lunch she hadn’t been able to finish. As anniversaries went, this one would at least be memorable.

Once inside the truck Dallas automatically fastened his seat belt. He’d always been careful to do that, said he’d seen too many accidents in his travels.

Was that what had happened to him? An accident?

“You don’t look like a veterinarian.”

“What do vets look like?” she countered.

He’d said nearly the same thing the first time she’d met him in this park during her college spring break. She hadn’t been a vet then, only a trainee, but she’d yearned, dreamed of being more. Eventually, she’d poured out all those hopes and fears to Dallas, as he shared his with her. By Christmas they were secretly engaged.

“I guess I thought a vet would look sort of horsey.” He tilted his head to one side, studied her. “You look more like a kindergarten teacher. Or a mother.”

Gracie clenched the steering wheel, her palms damp.

“What did I say? Something bad? Are you okay?” Dallas examined her too closely.

She could only imagine how hard it must be to tiptoe around, trying not to offend, without really knowing the another person. No wonder he’d been afraid. Dallas had nothing to guide him.

“I’m fine.” She faked a smile. “Just the traffic. It’s, ah…been a while since I’ve driven this way.”

It’s been six years since I drove to your parents’ home, but I remember every corner, every signpost. Her head hammered in time to the engine’s sputter.

“It’s pretty weird—I can’t even remember my own wedding. I can see you as a bride, though. All in white, wearing one of those fluffy bridal dresses, like a ballerina.” He met her glance and a hot wire of emotion singed Gracie’s heart. She focused on the street ahead.

They were getting close. Too close.

“Is that what you wore, Gracie?” Dallas prodded.

“What? A ballerina dress?” She shook her head. “White cotton sundress and sandals. Nothing fancy. Couldn’t afford it. You and I eloped, got married by the J.P., then came to the park.” Where they’d held their own private ceremony, promising never to stop loving each other.

Had Dallas honored that promise?

“What did I wear at our wedding?” he asked several moments later.

“What you always wear—wore. Cowboy boots, black pants, white shirt and a Stetson.”

Dallas stared at his sneakered feet in disbelief. “I used to wear cowboy boots?”

Though her arms ached from gripping the wheel so hard, Gracie couldn’t help her smile. “I don’t think I ever saw you in anything else.”

“It seems like you’re talking about someone I don’t know. A person I’ve never met.”

She didn’t respond, was too busy quashing the fear spreading like a virus through her.

“This is it.”

Gracie drew up to the curb, shoved the gearshift home and flicked off the engine. She forced air into her lungs, the metal taste of fear coating her tongue.

“This is what?”

“This was your parents’ house six years ago.”

“I lived here?” Dallas surveyed the big colonial with its massive lawns.

Gracie gulped, nodded. The place had changed. The abundance of flowers was gone, but perhaps his parents had grown weary of their gardening hobby. The shutters and trim had been painted recently, and were now a vivid green instead of the stark glossy black she’d remembered.

Dallas pushed his door open. He glanced over one shoulder expectantly. Only his quick breath gave away his jitters.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Gracie shook her head. “I’ll wait here till they let you in. Just to be sure everything’s okay. Then I’ve got to get back to the ranch. The Bar None. You can call me there whenever you want.”

They’d rejected her once. They wouldn’t get a second chance.

“Go ahead, Dallas. I promise I’ll wait till you’re inside.”

His frown testified that he wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t argue. He nodded once, vaulted from the truck and strode across the lawn.

Gracie swallowed a jagged little pill of fear as the familiar stride carried him so easily to the house where her dreams had crashed and burned.

Why, God? Why now, when I’ve just begun to put the pieces back together? Why not five years ago, when I needed him so badly?

The question died unanswered as Dallas rang the doorbell. Gracie held her breath when the big front door opened. But instead of embracing him and pulling him inside, the woman behind the screen shook her head and kept talking. Eventually she closed the door.

Dallas ambled slowly back toward the truck, his expression perplexed.

Fear’s stranglehold relaxed.

Safe. Could it be that simple?

“What’s wrong?” Gracie pressed back against her seat, preparing herself.

“The Hendersons, my parents, moved about four years ago. She didn’t know where they moved to, only that they sold the house and talked of leaving the country.” He climbed into the cab of the truck, his eyes tormented. “She thought they mentioned India.”

So they were out of her life. But if Gracie found a way to contact them, to tell them Dallas was back, they’d return and nothing would be safe.

And if she didn’t…Dallas stared down at his fingers, his posture showing defeat. That’s when compassion pushed aside fear.

She was his wife. She had to do something.

It was risky. With no memory and no viable means of support, Dallas wasn’t a threat.

Not yet.

But later on…

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. “But right now you’d better come with me to the ranch.” She started the engine. An emotion, quickly hidden, flickered over his face. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t really want me to go with you. Why is that?” Dallas’s intuition was as bang on as it always had been. His skin paled. “Did I do something wrong when we were married? Hurt you somehow?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course not!”

“The way you looked at me a moment ago…I must have done something to warrant that.” Dallas quietly gathered up his backpack and reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride, but I don’t want to disrupt your life, Gracie. I’ll go back to the motel for tonight. It’s the New Sunrise. You can reach me there, or stop by the park. If I need you, I’ll call the Bar None.”

She visualized him wandering lost and alone, aimlessly feeding the birds while he waited for someone to acknowledge him, to tell him who he was, where he belonged.

“Get in and close the door, Dallas. We can sort through everything at the ranch.” Her cheeks scorched with shame. “You feel lost, but remember, this is quite a shock for me. I’m struggling to absorb it all, too. But I really don’t want you to go back to that motel. Not yet.”

“You’re sure?”

She should be ecstatic. Her husband, the man she’d loved so desperately, was home. Even better, his parents were nowhere in sight. She was safe. But none of it felt real.

“I’m sure, Dallas.” She wasn’t sure at all. But Gracie had no choice. “Given your way with animals, you’ll fit right in. You might even hire on. They’re shorthanded at the moment, and the summer kids will be arriving soon.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Gracie. You’ve gone on with your life. That’s good.” He patted her hand. “I don’t want to impose on anyone. I only want to figure out who I am. It’s really okay. I’ll be fine.”

Gracie reared back at his touch. Emotion could not rule her life a second time. But her skin wouldn’t forget him.

“I know I haven’t been very welcoming. It’s just…the surprise.” How lame. “I’ll help you, I promise, Dallas.”

They’d both promised so many things.

To love.

To honor.

In sickness and in health.

How could she have known when she made those promises that they would cost her everything?

Chapter Two

Dallas didn’t like it, but his wife was his only key to figuring out his past.

He hesitated, but finally nodded. “All right, Gracie. I’ll go with you, for now. Maybe there’s something I can do to earn my keep.” An idea formed. “If you had some photos or something that I could look at, it might help trigger my memory.”

It was doubtful anything would, not after so many blank months. But he wouldn’t stop hoping. Or trusting God to get him through this, however long it took.

“Sure. No problem.” Gracie waited for him to buckle up.

“I’ll try not to cause problems for you.” As if he wasn’t already. He winced. “I don’t suppose it will be easy to explain my sudden appearance to anyone.”

“Elizabeth won’t mind.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth Wisdom. She owns the Bar None. At least her foundation does. Along with a whole lot of other places around the world.”

“You work for this foundation?”

“Yes.” Gracie’s fingertips squeezed the steering wheel and she heaved a sigh of relief, as if she was glad of the change in subject. She had beautiful hands. They matched the rest of her. Any man would be proud to call her his wife. Which made Dallas wonder why he’d left, and where he would stay once they arrived at the ranch.

“Tell me how you came to be there.”

“It was rough after my dad died,” Gracie began quietly. “I hadn’t finished vet school, so I wasn’t qualified to take over from him. The house went with the practice. Once they were sold I didn’t have anyplace to go.”

His fault. Why hadn’t he provided a home for his wife?

“Things got pretty bad,” she summarized, casting him a sideways glance. “Elizabeth offered me a scholarship to finish my degree, with the condition that I work for the foundation for six months when I graduated.”

“So you’ll only be at the ranch for six months? Then where will you go?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Gracie flicked on the radio, leaned back and hummed along to the country-and-western song filling the cab. Whatever other questions he had would have to wait.

Such as how he came to be married to a woman who was lovelier than Hollywood’s hottest celebrity, yet couldn’t recall one single thing about it.

When big wrought-iron gates and a sign announcing the Bar None appeared, Dallas reached out and turned off the radio. Gracie shot him a quick glance.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Before we arrive, will you tell me one more thing, Gracie?”

“If I can.” Her face tightened, as if she was bracing for bad news.

“Are we still married?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t wear a ring.” He glanced at his own hand, saw no band on his own ring finger. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are we still married?” Dallas slouched against his seat, hating that he had to ask, but needing the information to build another piece of the puzzle. “You could have divorced me. They told me I was in the coma for over five years. That’s a long time for someone to be gone.”

Especially a husband.

“Believe me, I know exactly how long it’s been.” Bitterness tinged Gracie’s voice in spite of her best efforts to pretend nonchalance.

“So why didn’t you get a divorce?”

“Stop pushing me!” she snapped, then immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dallas.”

“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. He wanted to figure out why she hadn’t let him go and found someone new.

“I don’t have an answer for you. For a while I thought you’d come back, show up on the doorstep with some long-winded explanation about where you’d been, why you hadn’t called.”

“And when I didn’t?”

“I didn’t have the money to find out about how to get a divorce. I didn’t have the money for anything.” The dam holding back her anger broke. “I wasn’t just sitting in a chair waiting for you to show up, you know. I had to get on with my life. You were gone, my dad was gone. I had to find a way to survive.”

“I’m sorry.” It didn’t help, but at least now he knew. “You wanted to, though, didn’t you?’

He needed her to answer that.

“At one point, early on, I considered divorce.” Gracie steered toward a white house tucked under a weeping willow. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“I don’t know.” Dallas pressed his hands flat against his knees.

“This is my place.” Gracie pulled up to the house, taking great pains to align her vehicle perfectly with the post in front before she shut off the motor. She climbed out of the truck quickly, opened the rear door and lifted out her parcels. She was halfway up the path, her sandals rustling the pea gravel, before she noticed he hadn’t followed.

“Come on, Dallas. Let’s go inside.” Gracie waited until he’d joined her. “This is what I call home now. Elizabeth gave—”

The front door flew open. A miniature blond whirlwind appeared on the step, hopping up and down on one foot. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”

Dallas glanced at Gracie. Love washed over her face.

“Yes, I got it. And I want you to meet someone. But let’s go inside first.” She smiled at the little girl before motioning for him to follow her. “I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth Wisdom.”

“Hi, Gracie. We had a lovely afternoon together.” A tall, gray-haired woman stood by the kitchen counter. She nodded at him. “I see you brought some company along. Welcome to the Bar None.”

“Thanks.” This was the benefactor? To Dallas she looked more like a grandmother.

“Shall I leave you now, Gracie? Or do you need me a bit longer?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much more of an imposition, I’d like you to stay, Elizabeth. This concerns you, indirectly.” Gracie grabbed Dallas’s arm and drew him into the living room.

He glanced around. There was not an item out of place. That deliberate neatness struck him as odd, especially with a child present. But then maybe the little girl didn’t live here.

Elizabeth arched one brow before nodding. She studied Dallas as she took a seat on the white love seat. Foreboding rushed over him, but he pushed it away. The doctor had told him to be prepared for surprises. All he could do was silently pray for courage as he waited for Gracie to make the next move.

“Have a seat,” his wife told him.

Dallas chose the big armchair. Perched on the edge, he felt as if his life teetered on the edge of a precipice.

“Who else is here, Mommy?”

Mommy? He blinked as his wife grasped one tiny hand and led the child to stand in front of him.

“Honey, I want you to meet Dallas.” Gracie’s pretty face went white. The next words threatened to choke her, but she forced them out anyway. “Dallas, this is Misty. My daughter.”

“Dallas?” Misty’s halting voice held uncertainty. Her fingers curled into Gracie’s, seeking reassurance.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Gracie’s tear-filled blue eyes begged him to understand.

“Oh. Dallas was my daddy’s name. Are you my daddy?” The tiny girl wearing a mussed blue dress touched his knee, and in doing so, grabbed hold of Dallas’s heart.

His daughter. Misty.

Her voice was an immature imitation of her mom’s. Feathery golden curls spilled to her shoulders. Also like her mother’s. Perfect features in a sun-kissed face. Pink bow lips that didn’t smile or frown.

But Misty was not all Gracie. The jut of her chin, the dimple that flickered to life at the edge of her mouth—he knew those were his gifts to her. He’d studied his own features in the mirror so often, trying to figure out who he was.

He was a father.

Dallas’s insides melted in wonder and intense love as he gazed into eyes that perfectly blended Misty’s parental heritage, not quite green, not quite blue.

“Mommy?” Misty murmured, her voice uncertain, hesitant.

“Yes, honey. Dallas is your daddy.” Gracie’s voice seemed to come from far away.

Dallas studied his daughter, wondered how Misty could know his name.

“I talked about you,” Gracie murmured.

“My mommy told me a lot about you. Only she thought you were in Heaven.” Misty stared past him, unblinking. “But you’re not in Heaven. You’re right here.”

“Yes, I am.” In that second Dallas understood what Gracie hadn’t been able to say.

Misty was blind.

His heart cracked, but he refused to allow pain to edge its way into his voice. Not now. Not while she waited for his reaction.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Misty.” Dallas touched her hand, allowed her delicate fingers to wrap around his own. “You’re a very pretty girl. You look like your mommy.”

“My mommy’s beautiful.” Misty’s smile reappeared. “I want to be just like her.”

“I’m sure you do.” Uncertain if she’d accept a hug, Dallas kept his arms by his sides, leaving the decision to Misty. She stepped back, reaching toward her mother.

Gracie grasped her hand but did not try to draw Misty away from him. Dallas was grateful for that. He wanted to know more about his daughter, he just wasn’t sure where to start.

“Are you sure you’re my daddy?”

He nodded, realized Misty wouldn’t see that. It would take time to get used to the situation, but even though he’d only met her, he knew he’d go to any lengths to protect this beautiful child.

My daughter.

“Yes, Misty. I really am your father. I’m Dallas Henderson.” He glanced at Gracie, trying to silently communicate his appreciation for the way she was allowing them to find their own way.

“Oh.” Misty frowned, bow lips pursed in a peevish frown. “Didn’t you want to have a girl like me? Is that why you didn’t come visit us sooner?”

Like me. The cautious question sent a message. Misty was afraid he wouldn’t love her. Because she was blind.

The knowledge hit low and deep. Dallas steeled himself, turned his pain into a prayer, as he had ever since he’d woken from his coma.

Oh, Lord, if only I’d been here for her, been able to reassure her that I’ll love her no matter what. Help me now.

“No, Misty. That’s not why I didn’t come.” He knelt in front of her, pushed a golden strand off her face. “I couldn’t come because I didn’t remember anything about your mommy and I didn’t know how to find her. That’s why I never met you until now. I’m sorry.”

Five years of his daughter’s life had passed without him, and there was nothing Dallas could do about that. He had to focus on now, on what they could have—if he handled this right.

“Are you all better now?” She bumped against his arm like an awkward colt.

“Mostly all better. I would have come sooner if I could have, Misty. Don’t ever think I wasn’t with you because I didn’t want to be.”

“Okay.” She stood silent for several moments. Waiting.

Though Dallas searched her face, he could not discern her reaction to his words. She hid her emotions well, just like her mother.

We need time together, Lord.

A whisper-soft sound from the love seat drew Misty’s attention. Dallas realized suddenly that though she couldn’t see, his daughter’s heightened senses made her aware of everything in the room. Misty would miss very little.

“I have trouble with my memory,” he explained. “It’s kind of…broken.”

“Like my dollhouse,” she said knowingly. “Your voice is sad. You’re not smiling.”

“In my heart I’m wearing a very big smile,” he told her softly. “A little while ago I didn’t know I had a daughter. Now I can hardly believe I didn’t know it a long time ago.” Dallas glanced at Gracie, saw the tears in her eyes and knew she had thought about this moment many times.

Probably feared it, too.

Which would explain her reluctance to bring him here without preparing her daughter ahead of time. For it was very clear to him that Gracie loved this child more than anything.

“Can I see you?” Misty asked quietly.

Gracie opened her mouth to explain, but Dallas shook his head at her. He knew exactly what Misty meant.

“Of course you can.” When she held out her tiny hand, he took it and guided it to his face. “Go ahead, Misty.”

The moment her baby-soft skin touched his cheek, Dallas closed his eyes and soaked in the sensations. Like stick men, her fingers walked over his forehead, slid around to “see” the shape of his face, the length of his nose, his cheekbones and his mouth. He smiled when she brushed his ear, and her fingers quickly slid back across his lips, found the dimple that matched her own.

“Mommy doesn’t have these,” she said.

Dallas blinked, studied his wife.

True, but Gracie had everything else a woman could ask for. A perfect figure, sun-streaked golden-brown hair that tipped up at her chin in a perky style. A model’s oval face boasting a natural, barely tanned glow.

“You got hurt.”

Misty’s careful probing gentled on his scalp. She’d missed nothing.

“I hurt my head a while ago.”

“Is it sore?” she asked, gently touching the rumpled edges of healed tissue buried just beneath his hairline.

“No, not anymore.”

“How did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” he told her simply. “I can’t remember.”

Dallas glanced up at a wall of photographs. A picture of Gracie holding her brand-new baby forced home exactly what he’d forgotten. Until now he’d known he was missing details, but faced with the visual progression of his daughter’s life, he suddenly realized the totality of what he’d lost and could never recapture.

Why, God?

“You’re looking at my wall, aren’t you?” Misty’s chest puffed out.

“Your wall?” Stupid question. Dallas could clearly see that the pictures all centered on Misty. “Yes, I am. I never knew anybody who had a whole wall of their own. It’s very interesting.”

“Interesting is a word adults use when they can’t think of anything else to say.” Her fingertips brushed his cheek again before she dropped her arm to her side. “Mommy, did you get the part for my dollhouse?”

“Yes, I did. I put it on the counter by the cookie jar. Perhaps Elizabeth will help you. I want to talk to Dallas for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Misty walked purposefully toward the kitchen, felt unerringly for the bag next to a brown ceramic bear, then shifted toward the love seat. “Elizabeth, will you please help me?”

So easily she dismissed him. Dallas wanted to weep.

“I’d love to help, dear. Though you’ll have to show me what to do. I’ve never fixed a dollhouse before.”

“Don’t worry, I have. I know exactly how to do it.” Misty paused in the doorway. “Will I see you later, Dallas? Is he staying for dinner, Mommy?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see. Be careful of the sharp places, honey.”

“I’m always careful. You don’t have to tell me so much,” Misty grumbled before waggling a hand in his direction. “Bye, Dallas.” She walked out of the room and down the hall.

Dallas. Not Daddy.

But then, he hadn’t been her father. He was just a strange man who’d suddenly appeared in her life. Dallas didn’t know who he had been, but in that moment he prayed he could be a good father to this special child.

“It’s a bit late, but I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Wisdom, Dallas. She’s been a wonderful friend to Misty and me.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand, patiently bearing her intense scrutiny.

“I’m glad Gracie found you.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to continue, but Misty called to her. “I’m sure we’ll talk later,” the woman added.

Dallas wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat, but he found an odd comfort in knowing that she cared enough for his family to check him out.

“I look forward to it.” He watched her walk away, then turned toward Gracie. His wife.

How odd that sounded.

And how wonderful.

“Do you mind if we sit outside?” Gracie walked toward the kitchen. “I have some iced tea.”

“Sure.” Dallas followed, accepted a glass from her and trailed behind through a set of French doors to a deck that overlooked a small green yard. To the left lay an oval pool. He whistled under his breath. “Nice.”

“Yes, it is. Elizabeth has been very generous.” Gracie pointed to a lawn chair. “Have a seat. I thought we could talk more freely out here.”

“More freely?” he repeated.

“Misty’s hearing is very acute. She’s also very curious. I’d prefer we speak without her listening. For now.”

Misty was a gorgeous child, bright, inquisitive. He wanted the chance to be more than a visiting stranger.

“Did your father know Misty?” he asked.

Gracie’s fingers clenched around the arms of her chair. She licked her lips, but it took another moment before she finally spoke. “She was born two weeks after he died.”

So she’d had a newborn to care for all by herself.

“I wish I’d been there, Gracie. I wish I could have helped you.”

After a moment her color returned. She sipped her tea. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not. But still.” Dallas wasn’t sure how much to ask, but curiosity forced the question from him. “Was Misty blind from birth?”

Gracie nodded. “Nobody knows why. The pregnancy was normal. There were no indications, no reason for it.”

But she’d had a hard time. He could see it written all over her face.

“When did you find out?”

“The day after she was born. I had a Caesarian. I don’t remember much about the first night. The next morning they did a battery of tests. I hoped and prayed someone had made a mistake, that they’d find a cure, that there was an operation that could change it.” A wry smile twisted her lovely lips. “There wasn’t. Misty is blind and nothing can change that. Or the fact that I love her.”

“That’s obvious. So is the fact you’ve found a way to help her enjoy her life, to experience everything she can.”

“Not everything. Some things she will never do. I’ve accepted that. Now I try to keep her environment as safe as possible, to protect her.”

A sense of dread underlay Gracie’s words. Dallas wanted to know why.

“Which means? Surely on a ranch that’s especially for blind children Misty isn’t in any danger?”

“It’s not just for blind children. There are a number of disabled kids the Bar None works with.” Gracie avoided his stare. “But that’s why I accepted Elizabeth’s offer to work here for six months. It’s an opportunity to prepare Misty for the future. I want to make sure she gets every opportunity to handle the challenges she’ll face.”

“I imagine that’s normal for every mother.” The niceties were finished. He set down his glass and leaned forward. “You really wanted to come out here so you could ask me questions, Gracie. Go ahead.”

“I have thousands,” she admitted.

“Start wherever you like.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened when you woke up in hospital?”

Dallas never thought about that day if he could help it. But Gracie had asked a question. At the very least he owed her whatever explanation he could offer.

“Apparently I suffered some kind of head trauma. My body had pretty much healed by the time I woke up. I knew how to read and write, I could answer normal questions.” He grimaced. “It took a little longer to accept that I’d lost a huge amount of time.”

“And that no one had come looking for you?” she prodded softly.

If only she knew how that hurt.

“At first I fussed about it. And a lot of other things. But one day, before I was released, I met a woman. She’d just lost her husband and she was going to the chapel. She knew about me—knew I’d been in the coma. Probably everyone in the hospital did.” He’d hated being medicine’s newest case study. “Anyway, she invited me to pray with her.”

An expression Dallas couldn’t interpret flitted across Gracie’s pretty face. Then she pulled her mask back into place.

“Go on.”

“I went with her. There wasn’t a lot to do in the hospital. I was well, except for my memory. I was sick of the never-ending tests and I was bored.”

“I guess that’s as good a reason as any to go to church.”

Dallas laughed at her comment.

“It’s not a very good reason at all, Gracie. But that’s why I went. Only it wasn’t a church. It was a chapel. A quiet sanctuary amidst all the suffering.”

Lilies. He remembered Easter lilies. As soon as he’d pushed the solid oak door open their aromatic blooms had gorged his senses.

“I sat with her and I felt this peace, solemnity, if you want. After a while I noticed a verse written in some kind of calligraphy across one of the lit windows. It was from Romans and the last part of it said, ‘…and we confidently and joyfully look forward to becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be.’”

“I see.” Gracie studied him the way a nurse observes a psychiatric patient.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I sensed a kind of reassurance that no matter what, God would take care of me. I still knew Him and He knew me.”

That moment would stay with him for the rest of his life, but Dallas couldn’t expect someone who hadn’t lived through those horrible, empty black spaces to understand.

“And?”

“And He did. The woman came back and asked the hospital to let me work with her at an animal shelter. There was a whole lot of discussion, but finally some government agency worked out temporary identification and a place for me to stay. I earned a little bit of money. When the dreams started getting clearer, I told them I had to go. I came to Dallas on the bus. The rest you know.”

“So the dreams didn’t come till after?”

Dallas shook his head, struggling to make her understand. “From the day I woke up I began to see things, hear things. When I fell asleep they got clearer. Some I’ve managed to figure out. Some drive me crazy.” He paused, then admitted, “The worst is Mini Belle. As far as I can tell, it’s either a cheese or a car.”

Gracie doubled over in laughter.

Dallas stared at the transformation. His wife was gorgeous. Her whole face glowed. He could not look away.

But when the laughter continued too long, he frowned. “Mind sharing the joke?”

“Mini Belle isn’t a car or a ch-cheese,” Gracie sputtered.

“What is it then?” He felt stupid, awkward, out of place. He hated not getting the joke, or wondering if he was the butt of it.

“Mini Belle is a horse.” Grace sniffed, dabbed at her eyes. Seeing his disbelief, she nodded. “A miniature horse that was particularly fond of you. You once told me she greeted you by pressing her left front hoof on the toe of your boot until you gave her a carrot.”

He listened as she explained about his work with the miniature horse association in Arizona, how he’d studied the friendliness of the small horses.

“What other words have been bothering you? Maybe I can help?”

He decided to risk it.

“Fala-bella? I’m not sure I have the pronunciation quite…” Dallas stopped. He could tell from her face that she recognized the word.

“Falabella. It’s a very rare breed of miniature horse. Originally they were found only on the Falabella Farms in Argentina. I think now there are about nine hundred worldwide. In fact, we have one here at the ranch,” Gracie told him. “It was a gift from a South American group for Elizabeth’s help with some Amazonian issue.”

“Oh.” So it was work he’d been thinking about all these months. Hope deflated. He’d prayed for some clue that would unravel the past, something to link him with Gracie and Misty. This was not it.

“What else?” she asked quietly.

“Porter. I keep hearing the word porter.”

“Ray Porter was your boss. He’s retired now.”

Dallas wanted something more personal, something that would define who and what he’d been, what he’d done with his life, what meant the most to him. He told her more, but every time he repeated a word or described a dream, Gracie related it to work. Finally he chose the one that bothered him most. “Regret.”

“You mean you have regrets?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s like a title I see on the wall of my mind. Regret.”

“Could be anything.” Gracie shrugged. “You probably regretted having to leave home that last day. We’d only been married a week, but you had a meeting in Washington State, and then somewhere near Santa Fe, I think. You said you couldn’t miss them. Maybe regret was the last thing you felt.”

“When I see ‘regret’ I don’t feel emotion,” he explained, searching to understand why that word seemed so important. “It’s more like a tangible thing.”

“I don’t know how to help you.” Gracie frowned. “I suppose we could phone Ray and ask him if the word has any significance. But I’m not sure he would know more than that. You had almost finished your contract with them. You worked freelance.”

Dallas felt certain that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But Elizabeth appeared at that moment.

“You must stay at the ranch as long as you like, Dallas.” The woman’s warm smile chased away the anxiety clawing his insides. “I don’t know what your accommodation arrangements are, but you’re welcome to stay in what I call the bunkhouse with some of our other employees. And if you need a job, we could certainly use you. How are you with horses?”

“He’s an expert,” Gracie said, before Dallas could admit he didn’t know.

Between the two ladies they had his future nailed down in two minutes. It was like being trapped between whirlwinds, but Dallas didn’t mind. He felt relief that he could stay, get to know his wife and daughter. Somehow God would reveal the next step.

“I’ll ask our sheriff to come over a little later. He’s a friend of mine and I’m sure he’ll help us figure out a way to locate your family.” Elizabeth surveyed his shabby clothes. “Camp staff usually wear jeans and camp shirts, which we provide. You can pick some up tomorrow morning, or Gracie can show you this evening. She’ll know where to find some boots, as well.”

Though he searched her face, Dallas found no hesitancy in Elizabeth’s manner toward him. The ranch owner obviously valued Gracie’s opinion and would accept Dallas on her word.

“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re not disappointed,” he promised. But Elizabeth didn’t return his smile.

Her brown eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry about disappointing me,” she murmured, an iron inflection backing the softly voiced words. “Worry about them.” She inclined her head toward the house, where Gracie had run inside to answer Misty’s call. “They’re more important than anything.”

“I know that. It will be hard for Gracie to have me back after such a long time,” he admitted.

“But you will stay?”

“Ms. Wisdom, you couldn’t pay me to move, now that I’ve found my family.”

“Good. God created families to support and love each other. He’s brought you here for a reason, Dallas. I’m going to pray you find it.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth patted his shoulder, then walked out of the yard toward the main buildings, whistling a little tune as she went.

Dallas sank back into his chair and sipped his tea, watery now that the ice had melted.

“I sure hope You know what You’re doing here, Lord,” he said, trying to ignore the call Gracie’s swimming pool sent his weary body. “Because I haven’t got a clue.”

He tilted his head back, closed his eyes and waited for the shadows to come. But for the first time since he could remember, no whispers haunted him.

Chapter Three

Gracie swam through the pool with smooth, easy strokes, stretching every muscle, hoping the effort would clear her mind, leave her body limp and ready to rest.

So far it was not working.

Earlier, Elizabeth had insisted her personal physician come out to the ranch, examine Dallas and contact the hospital that had cared for him in Los Angeles. Only after the doctor had certified that Dallas was physically fine had Elizabeth allowed the meeting with her sheriff friend. He’d already been in contact with the L.A. authorities who’d questioned Dallas extensively when he’d first awakened. But L.A. had little to pass on other than that he’d been found unconscious, without identification, and no one had called to inquire. The sheriff left after offering to help locate Dallas’s parents.

Gracie had decided it would be easier, and less taxing on her emotions, if they all ate dinner in the big mess hall with the rest of the staff and some of the regular students. That knocked Misty’s routine off-kilter, so it took a while to answer her many questions and get her into bed. By then Dallas had gone with Elizabeth to inspect his new quarters, and Gracie was alone in her house.

All she could think about were Dallas’s parents and how long it would take the sheriff to find them.

How long she had until her world changed again.

Now, here in the dark, with only a few yard lights glowing in the distance, and a big Texas moon overhead, Gracie could finally admit what a shock she felt.

Dallas was back.

Her entire body recognized him with a burst of longing. Her skin knew his voice. Even her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from watching him. But in her heart Gracie knew this wasn’t the man she’d loved. This wasn’t the husband who knew her thoughts before she said them, who’d shared her dreams.

Gracie had spent the past six years burying memories. She’d worked long and hard to finish her training. She was on the cusp of achieving the future she’d struggled so hard to reach.

Why was Dallas back now, when she’d finally found a safe place for Misty to grow and experience life? And worse, how long would he stay?

Not that Gracie wanted Dallas to leave. She couldn’t stop imagining his arms around her. She yearned to hear his low whispers of love once more, ached to finally have the family she’d dreamed of.

It would have been easier if she could hate Dallas, if he’d done something hurtful, deliberately abandoned her, disowned Misty. But he hadn’t. He’d simply lost his memory.

This afternoon Dallas had gone to great lengths to reassure Misty.

But he wanted more.

Gracie knew it as surely as she knew that six years ago she’d given him her heart.

That was then.

She couldn’t afford to love again.

Nights were the worst.

That’s when shadows crept out from their hideaways and ghosts from an unseen past teased.

Walking was Dallas’s preferred therapy. In L.A. he’d walked through the hottest days, through rainstorms, through the smoke from hill fires. He walked as long as his body would keep going, until he could finally collapse in sleep.

At every bus stop on the way here he’d gotten out and walked. He’d walked as hard and as fast as he could to stop the thoughts from swarming his brain. He’d walked until his body weakened and he had to hide in a corner of the bus stop coffee shop and sip tea while his limbs recouped.

Anything but dream.

Tonight was no different, except that here on the ranch, Dallas felt freer to wander. Elizabeth had said he could go almost anywhere he pleased. There would be a lot of speculation tomorrow. Curious staff would have questions. But he’d gone through that in the hospital. People soon gave up asking questions when you had no answers to give them.

Tonight he walked briskly, savoring the soft night breeze and the scents it carried. The ranch boasted a glass-walled indoor facility with hydro therapies, whirlpools, training pools—he couldn’t remember what else Misty had told him about. He passed that building, came to an outdoor pool surrounded by a fence hidden by prickly rosebushes. Not only would the thorns prevent the seeing and physically impaired from stumbling into the pool, but the heady scent of the paths differed in texture, so that footsteps made distinct sounds on each. Yet all were built to accommodate wheelchairs, crutches, canes and scooters. Sweet-scented floral borders also worked as a signal—lavender to the left, alyssum to the right. Children like Misty would soon learn independence.

Dallas chose a path that bordered the playground. He meandered through it, not bothering to examine the state-of-the-art equipment as he allowed his thoughts to roam where they wanted.

They wanted to think about Gracie.

Beautiful Gracie, who couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself relax. Surely all her fear wasn’t due solely to Misty’s situation. If only he could remember something about their past, something that would help her.

After relentlessly probing his locked brain for answers it wouldn’t release, Dallas glanced up and realized he’d walked in a circle toward Gracie’s house, this time approaching from the rear. He saw glints of pool reflections on the house, heard a lone swimmer cut through the water in a steady rhythm.

So Gracie couldn’t sleep, either.

Dallas didn’t call out, chose instead to muffle his steps on the grass beside the path. She always managed to mask her expression when she looked at him. He needed to catch her unaware, to discern what was really going on behind that beautiful facade, to see whether she hated him for coming back.

Gracie swam with the same lithe grace she did most things. Only her head was visible, her hair a slick silver helmet in the moonlight. The pool lights had been dimmed, the yard light switched off.

Dallas watched wordlessly until she finally climbed from the pool, toweled herself off.

“You don’t have to stand in the shadows, Dallas. There’s a latch on the gate at this end. You can come in if you want.”

Now he knew where Misty got her acute hearing.

“Sorry.” He let himself into her yard, shame burning his cheeks. “You must think I’m a Peeping Tom.”

“I think you probably have a thousand questions and couldn’t sleep because of them.”

“Is that your excuse?”

“I like to swim at night.” She pulled on a thick terry robe, motioned him to a chair. “I made some mint tea. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thanks.” He watched her pour steaming liquid from a thermos. “Do you swim at night a lot?”

“If I can.” She cupped the mug between her hands, studied him from behind the steam that rose from it. “I’ve always loved the water, and this is the first time I’ve had a pool in my own backyard. My days are filled, and when Misty comes home I’m busy with her. Nights seem the best.”

“Surely you have some free time?” He couldn’t accept that she’d been locked away from life for the past six years, not a beautiful woman like her.

“Misty is a full-time job.”

One he’d missed.

“Misty is five now, right?”

“Her birthday was in February.”

“Surely that’s old enough to allow you some freedom. From what I saw today, the children who use this facility are taught to become independent.”

“There is always someone watching them. Maybe you missed that.” An edge crept into Gracie’s voice, a defensiveness he hadn’t counted on. Or maybe he was the problem.

“Did I do something wrong, Gracie?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because it feels like I’m walking through a minefield.”

“It’s not you, Dallas.” Defeat weighted her shoulders, added to the dullness of her eyes. “It’s just…” She shook her head, sipped her tea. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I’m her father. Your husband.” How strange that sounded. “I want to know if I said or did something that was out of place or hurt her. Or you.”

“It’s not you, Dallas. It’s Misty. She’s blind.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I know.”

“But do you realize what that entails?” Gracie set down her cup. “I’m her security. I’m who she turns to when something’s wrong in her world. I can’t decide one afternoon that I need a time-out, and disappear.”

“You did this afternoon.”

She shook her head. “That was different. And besides, Elizabeth was here. Misty is always cared for when I work. I never leave her alone.”

“I’m sure you’re a great parent. But I’m here now. I can help.”

“You’re the problem.”

Her comment hit him squarely in the chest. She didn’t want him here.

“Fine. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, if that’s what you want.” Dallas clenched his jaw, swallowed his anger. “But I will continue to see my daughter. Now that I’ve found Misty, I’m not walking away from her.”

“I don’t want you to go!” Gracie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then you’d better explain,” he snapped, frustrated by the dead ends he kept running into. “Because I am completely lost. As usual.”

Her quick gasp, the way she huddled into her chair, her drawn miserable face struck him deeply, and his heart relented.

Dallas knelt in front of her, wrapped his hands around hers and waited for her to look at him. When she did, tears glittered on her lashes. He released one hand, lifted his fingers and brushed the wetness away, fingertips tingling at the contact with her skin.

“Gracie, I’m not trying to push you out of the way or take over. You’ve spent five years raising our child and I haven’t been here much more than five hours. I wouldn’t dream of undermining you. Why would I? You’ve done a wonderful job. She’s a daughter any man would love to call his own.”

A tremulous smile curved Gracie’s mouth briefly. “Thank you.”

He touched the damp strands that tumbled forward, pushed them away from her eyes so he could see more clearly. “I only want to share Misty with you.”

“I know.” She cupped her palm against his jaw. “I understand you want to help. But that brings its own problems.”

“Why?” Using every ounce of strength he had, Dallas resisted the urge to lay his head on her knees.

“Because Misty will want more.” Her hand pulled away from his, the other dropped from his cheek.

A keen sense of loss washed over him.

“From the time she could speak, Misty has talked about wanting a family. I try to give her everything, but I can’t give her that.” Gracie stopped, chewed her bottom lip. When she spoke again her voice had dropped. “I also can’t guarantee that you won’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.”

“Not intentionally, maybe, but when your memory comes back…” She met his gaze and did not look away. “I don’t want my daughter to suffer, Dallas.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he declared angrily, then told himself to calm down. She was a mother protecting her baby. “But nobody gets through life without some scars, Gracie.”

“I know that. Yet it’s hard to explain to a five-year-old.” A winsome smile tilted her lips up at the corners. “Awfully hard.”

“I’m sure. But your point is moot. I’m not going anywhere. And we already are a family.”

She shook her head slowly. “We were never a family,” she murmured, a note of sadness lacing her voice. “We didn’t have time.”

The words were devastating to hear.

Dallas had longed for things to be the way they had been before—when he assumed his life had been normal, had made sense. But did he even have what it would take to be a father to Misty, to one day be the kind of husband Gracie wanted, needed?

The past months had taught him many things, foremost that he was not a quitter.

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