Home to heal...and find a new beginning?

The Rocky Mountain Haven series concludes

During a deadly earthquake, Gemma Andrews lost her husband...and her memories. Handyman Jake Elliot reunites her with her family—and provides the support Gemma needs, especially when she learns about a secret child from her husband’s past. Gemma, Jake and little orphaned Alexa have histories marked by tragic loss, but will they find a brighter future together?

LOIS RICHER loves traveling, swimming and quilting, but mostly she loves writing stories that show God’s boundless love for His precious children. As she says, “His love never changes or gives up. It’s always waiting for me. My stories feature imperfect characters learning that love doesn’t mean attaining perfection. Love is about keeping on keeping on.” You can contact Lois via email, loisricher@gmail.com, or on Facebook (loisricherauthor).

Also By Lois Richer

Rocky Mountain Haven

Meant-to-Be Baby

Mistletoe Twins

Rocky Mountain Daddy

Rocky Mountain Memories

Wranglers Ranch

The Rancher’s Family Wish

Her Christmas Family Wish

The Cowboy’s Easter Family Wish

The Twins’ Family Wish

Family Ties

A Dad for Her Twins

Rancher Daddy

Gift-Wrapped Family

Accidental Dad

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Rocky Mountain Memories

Lois Richer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09679-9

ROCKY MOUNTAIN MEMORIES

© 2019 Lois M. Richer

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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“You brought me here, Jake. You got me into this. Now help me figure it out.”

He opened his mouth to protest, studied her for a moment, then he sat down and huffed out a huge sigh.

“I’m only the Haven’s handyman, Gem,” he said weakly.

“You’re the fixer—that’s why all those people called you. Now help me figure out how to fix things for this child that my husband loved so dearly, when I can’t even remember my own name. Wait a minute. That picture.”

“Gem, are you okay? You look...weird.”

“The picture that was in my wallet. That must be Alexa.” Suddenly the sun felt too hot, the problems too large, the decisions too overwhelming. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain she thought she could hear a man’s voice calling. Take care of her. Take care of Alexa.

The world wobbled. Had she really heard that, or was she dreaming? She felt so strange.

“Jake?” she whispered.

“Yes, Gem?”

“Have I ever fainted before?” Gemma didn’t hear his reply as she slid off her chair onto the patio.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for returning to The Haven. I hope you enjoyed Gemma’s and Jake’s journeys to discover that God’s plan is to help us become more like His son.

This was a difficult story to write. Losing that special person in your life is a heart-wrenching road to travel. There can be plenty of roadblocks to recovery when we demand explanations from God. While your heart aches with loss, your soul cries out for reasons why. Not getting them can either shut us down or drive us to overcome and move on to discover His plan. To do that, we must trust.

I’d love to hear from you. Please contact me via my website www.loisricher.com, on Facebook, at loisricher@gmail.com or at Box 639, Nipawin, Sk. Canada, S0E 1E0. I’ll do my best to respond quickly.

Until we meet again, I wish you the blessing of a full heart that has not only known but given love, the joy of enriching someone’s world just by having you in it and the peace that comes from accepting that whatever happens, He has it under control.

Blessings,

Lois Richer

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren.

—Romans 8:28–29

This book is dedicated to those who strive tirelessly to make a difference in their world. Shut out the naysayers, the negativity and the nonsense. Keep on keeping on. It’s worth it.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

He would have recognized her anywhere.

Oblivious to the May long weekend crowds thronging the Canadian airport in Edmonton, Jake Elliot strode directly toward Gemma Andrews, her gorgeous, waist-length tumble of auburn hair drawing him like a homing beacon.

“Hello, Gem,” he said when he reached her. “Welcome home.”

Her forest green eyes widened as she surveyed him, studying him as though he was a complete stranger.

“Uh, thank you.” The lack of energy in her response bothered Jake.

“Are you all right?” He glanced at the strip of gauze covering her left temple. “Your head...?”

“Wh-who are you?” The pure panic in her words floored Jake.

“Excuse me.” Only then did Jake notice Gemma’s companion. “I’m Celia Shane from the Canadian embassy in Lima. You are?”

Unease skittered across his nerves. An embassy official had escorted Gem? Because she couldn’t manage the trip on her own or...?

“Jake Elliot. I’m here to take Gemma home.”

“I was told someone, um, older would meet us.” Celia’s phone pinged. She checked it and returned a text. “Apparently there’s been a change. May I see some credentials?”

Jake fumbled for his wallet to show her his driver’s license.

“Thanks. Hello, Jake.” Celia’s calm demeanor offered some serenity to Jake’s whirling thoughts and apparently to Gemma, too, because her scared look eased. “Now, let me explain. As we notified the family, Gemma was at Machu Picchu with a tour group when the earthquake occurred. Subsequent to that notification, we learned she’d been struck by tumbling rocks, had fallen and, as a result of that, she’s lost her memory. Because her head injury was minor and she’s otherwise in good health, the hospital released her. They feel she’ll recover best at home. Besides, they need the beds.”

“Lost her memory?” Jake was stuck on that.

“Temporarily.” Celia smiled. “Her doctors are convinced her memory will return in time.”

“Will she—?”

“You two do know I’m standing here, right?” Gemma interrupted indignantly. “I can speak for myself.”

Ah, that was more like the feisty woman Jake had known.

“Sorry, Gemma.” Celia smiled at her. “Hazard of the job. I tend to take over.”

“I am fine.” Gemma’s eyes met Jake’s with the same directness she’d always employed. “I have a cut on my forehead and my brain is a little dinged up, but as Celia said, supposedly things will return to normal soon. In the meantime, I’m sorry but I don’t know you.”

“Sure you do. I’m Jake, your foster aunts’ handyman.” To his dismay, even that brought no flicker of recognition to her lovely green eyes.

“My foster aunts?” She studied him curiously. “Not my parents or my family?”

“They are your family, Gem.” He hesitated, but maybe more information would reassure her. “Some years ago Tillie and Margaret Spenser brought you and three other foster girls to their home, The Haven, in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies.”

“Um, okay.” Gemma’s blank look remained so Jake pressed on.

“Your sister Victoria lives at The Haven permanently, with her husband and family, and the aunts, of course. Your sister Adele and her husband and kids live next door, while your other sister Olivia and her husband and family live on a nearby acreage.” Still no comprehension. Jake added a little desperately, “They can all hardly wait to see you again.”

“You’ve known me for a while?” she murmured, her expression pensive.

“I came to The Haven six years ago when you were seventeen. I’ve been there ever since.” Jake caught Celia checking her watch. “You need to leave?”

“That text said I’m to fly to Ottawa in an hour to accompany someone back to Peru.” She glanced at Gemma. “If you’re all right?”

“She will be as soon as I get her home.” Jake glanced around. He saw only a battered backpack and a small duffel. “Luggage?”

“Duffel’s mine. The other is hers.” Celia indicated the battered canvas with its multiplicity of stickers. “Authorities found it at the site. The hotel where Gemma and—where she was staying was flattened.”

Gemma and Kurt. That’s what Celia had been going to say. Why had she pulled back?

“The embassy will be certain to forward anything else they recover.” She touched Gemma’s arm. “Is it okay for me to leave you with Jake?”

“You have to go. You need to do your job, help someone else. I understand.” Clearly summoning her pluck, Gemma thrust back her narrow shoulders.

Jake noted the thin cotton shirt she wore was far too large for her lithe frame and not at all her usual style. Well, it hadn’t been, but things changed. Then her smile faltered and he forgot about what she wore as compassion for her suffering welled.

“You’re going to be fine, Gemma.” Celia must have sensed her uncertainty, too.

“Yes, I’m sure I will be.” She cast him a sideways glance. “With Jake.”

He didn’t think Gemma looked or sounded fine. She appeared nervous and uncertain, but in these circumstances, who wouldn’t? Though Jake had wished many times for God to blank out the horror of his own past, he couldn’t begin to imagine how it must feel to have forgotten everyone and everything. It would take time for Gem to feel secure again.

“You’ll feel better once you’re home.” He hoped she could relax. “It’s a long drive to The Haven. If you need to make a stop here, get some coffee or lunch, we’d best do that before we leave.”

“All I want is to freshen up. The flight was long and tiring.” She automatically headed for the ladies’ room, as if she’d done it a hundred times before.

“How did she know where to go?” He stared at her retreating figure.

“Some things she does from rote. I guess that part of her memory is intact. Recent events are a blank though.” Celia shrugged. “She can recite tons of information about lots of different locales she’s taken tours to, but she can’t tell you anything about the earthquake, what happened before or after it, or her personal past. Which reminds me, I need to talk to you before she returns.”

“Okay.”

“Gemma doesn’t remember that she was married,” Celia warned in a low voice. “She doesn’t remember Kurt at all.”

“How could she forget her own husband?”

“It’s part of her injury, I guess.” Celia shrugged. “Anyway, you need to be aware that she also has no idea that he died in the earthquake. My office contacted her family as soon as they found out, but apparently you’d already left to come here. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell her,” the woman explained.

“Why not?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“I couldn’t gauge what her response might be. I was worried that if she reacted badly, there wouldn’t be anyone to support her.” Celia chewed her bottom lip. “Of course, hearing of Kurt’s death might trigger her memories, too. Either way, I believe she needs someone who knew them both to help her through her loss and grief. The important thing, according to her doctors, is that with her type of brain injury, the fastest way to recovery is no stress.”

“You want me to tell her.” Jake’s heart sank as he read between the lines. “You don’t think her aunts should do it?”

“It’s your decision, of course, but I do think it should be you, for several reasons.” Celia frowned. “Gemma will find it difficult enough to deal with the family she doesn’t remember. Four sisters, aunts, nieces and nephews. It’s a lot. I believe it would be simpler for her if she’d already faced the complication of her husband’s death when she meets her family.”

Inwardly Jake groaned. How was he supposed to tell Gem that Kurt, the man she’d loved and married less than a year ago, was gone?

“Mostly I believe you should do it because you’re her friend, her very good friend. Aren’t you?” Celia seemed pleased by his nod. “Excellent. To regain her memories, Gemma’s going to need someone she can lean on, depend on and talk to without worrying about offending them. I think that’s you, Jake. Perhaps during the journey home, you can work it in that she’s now a widow. I—” She stopped. “Here she comes.”

Work it in? Like, “By the way, Gem, nobody told you but you’re now a widow?” Jake’s brain scoffed.

He stood by Celia, watching Gemma stride toward them. She moved easily across the space, making her appear confident and assured. Though appreciative heads turned to admire her beauty, Gemma appeared unaware of the attention. Her intense gaze rested on them.

“I’m ready to go,” she announced, though there was the faintest wobble in the words and her eyes were red. “Thank you for everything, Celia. I appreciate your assistance so much.”

“It was my absolute pleasure, Gemma.” Celia hugged her, a trace of her own tears showing. “I put my card in your pack so that we can keep in touch. I want to know how you’re doing. If you need anything,” she added as she drew away, “anything at all, you let me know and I’ll try to help. Maybe one day you’ll return to Peru and we’ll have lunch together. Adiós o hasta pronto, mi querido amigo.”

“Hasta que nos encontremos de nuevo,” Gemma responded in a very quiet tone.

Jake blinked at her automatic Spanish rejoinder before remembering Gemma was fluent in several languages. Another reason why becoming a tour guide had seemed so perfect for her.

Celia waved, picked up her duffel and hurried away. Gemma watched her leave as though she was losing her best friend.

“Things will get better, Gem,” he reassured her, trying to sound cheerful.

“Promise?” She gave him a half-hearted smile and then slung her pack over one shoulder. “I have a hunch they’re going to get much worse first. I’m ready. I guess.”

Jake had never heard Gemma sound so uncertain. She’d always been full of confidence and assurance.

Had been.

“I could take that—” He immediately choked back his offer to carry her backpack when her chin lifted and she glared at him. “Right. Let’s go.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as they walked toward the exit. Outside in the clear sunlight he hesitated, concerns rising at her fragile appearance. “It’s quite a hike to the car.”

“Do you know me well, Jake?” Gemma’s green eyes challenged him.

“Pretty well,” he said. Not that well, his brain rebuked. You never thought she’d elope. “You’ve been away for a while, but I used to,” he clarified.

“If you know me at all, then you know that I can quite easily manage a little walk across a parking lot. Right?” One auburn eyebrow arched imperiously.

“But you’ve been—right.” He stifled his objection and pointed. “I’m parked over that way.”

Gemma walked beside him, her head swiveling from right to left, taking in the sights of fully leafed trees scattered here and there, and the sound of chirping birds. “It’s summertime.” She sounded surprised.

“Late May. Springtime in North America and not quite summer in the Rockies,” he explained. “The days are much longer but remember our nights are still chilly.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t remember.” She sighed. “So many things I’ve forgotten.”

“So many things to rediscover now that you’re home.” As they reached her foster aunts’ big, roomy SUV, Jake hit the unlock button and opened her door.

His phone dinged with a text which he ignored. Someone needing his help, no doubt. The community had gotten in the habit of calling on him for aid with lots of things, but he was busy helping Gemma right now and she came first. He waited until she was comfortably seated with her backpack on the floor, before he closed her door and took his own seat.

“It’s not going to be a fast trip out of the city,” he warned.

“Rush hour in Edmonton is never fast.” Gemma blinked. “I have no idea how I know that,” she muttered. “Actually, I’m not sure about a whole lot of things. I know what they told me, but I can’t recall any personal details, like my birthday or when I started leading tour groups or—anything.”

“I can tell you a little,” Jake offered. “After you graduated from high school, you studied languages. You were always good at French in school.”

“Le printemps à Paris est le meilleur moment pour visiter,” Gemma murmured. Her eyes flared with surprise. “Uh—”

“See? Your memory is there, Gem. It just needs to wake up.” He grinned at her as they sat at a red light.

“But why do I remember that when I can’t remember my own name or where I live?” She sounded irritated. “Or these aunts you mentioned. Or the sisters. Or this haven place.”

“You’ll love The Haven. It’s a big old stone manor house perched on the top of a hill with the most wonderful view of the valley and in the distance, the Rockies. It’s surrounded by untouched forest.” He felt the intensity of her focus on him. “That’s what makes it such a perfect place for your aunts’ ministries.”

“Ministries?” She blinked. “Like they lead a church there or something?”

“No.” Jake chuckled. “The ladies have faith—very strong faith—in God. They spent years as missionaries in Africa. Now they’re using their home and land as a place for troubled foster kids to come for respite. Your sisters run the programs for them.”

“How old are these aunts?” Gemma asked.

“Seventy-six, but you’d never know it. They are very active and extremely involved in their community. I doubt Tillie and Margaret Spenser will ever truly retire because they love helping people.” Jake paused before adding, “I should know. They saved my life.”

“I’d like to hear that story.” Gemma pressed back against the seat, as if she was finally comfortable with him.

“Maybe some other time,” he said, trying to gird himself for adding to her pain. “First there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

* * *

The serious note in Jake’s voice warned Gemma that whatever he wanted to talk about would not be pleasant. Internal warning signs flared. She was so weary of bracing herself for the unknown. Yet what alternative did she have?

Just then Jake’s phone rang. She waited while he answered it.

“Hey, Marv,” he said after pressing a button on the dashboard.

“Hate to bother you, Jake, but I’m at Gerda Brown’s place, trying to fix her water heater. Except it can’t be done. The thing’s finished and she can’t afford a new one. I already used the spare one you found at O’Shea’s place for someone else last month. Any ideas?”

“I’m tied up at the moment, Marv. Why don’t you go pick up one at the hardware store? Put it on my tab. I’ll figure it out later.” After a few moments he ended the call. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re buying a water heater for somebody who can’t afford one?” When he nodded, she asked, “Why?”

“Because they need it.” He shrugged his wide shoulders as if it didn’t matter. “Anyway, as I was saying. I need to tell you—” His phone rang again and then a third time. His lips pursed but he didn’t answer either call. When Gemma tilted an eyebrow at him, his face reddened and he muttered, “They can wait till I get back.”

She giggled when the phone rang again. “Maybe not.”

“It’s from three different callers. Probably three different issues.” Jake sounded impatient. She guessed he wanted to say whatever was on his mind.

“I’m listening.” She shifted when he didn’t immediately speak. “Tell me what you need to, Jake.”

“It’s sad news, actually.” He licked his lips and then pressed them together. “You were married, Gem. To Kurt Andrews. You eloped about eight months ago.”

The way he said it, in short staccato bursts, revealed his distress in telling her. But she didn’t feel distressed. She felt...empty? The yawning unknown threatened to overwhelm her until she looked at Jake, and some part of her brain calmed. He was a nice guy who bought water heaters for needy women. He’d probably been pressed into duty on her behalf, though he obviously wasn’t comfortable with explaining this. She touched his arm.

“Just tell me,” she murmured. “Then I can deal with it.”

“Kurt was killed in the earthquake.” Jake huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Gem. I don’t have any details. Celia only told me that the embassy is certain he did not survive.”

“Oh.” Gemma frowned. It didn’t feel as if they were talking about anyone she knew, let alone a husband. What did it mean? “Does his family know? Will I have to tell them?”

“You are his family, Gem. His parents died in a car accident just after you were married.” Free of the crush of traffic and now on the divided highway, Jake accelerated.

“No siblings?” Gemma mused, struggling to sort through her building questions.

“You are Kurt’s only remaining family.” Jake frowned when she didn’t immediately respond. “Are you all right?”

“Actually, no.” Gemma couldn’t control her burst of irritation. “I was married less than a year to a man I loved?” She glanced at Jake, relieved to see his firm nod. “I was his wife, yet I feel blank. I’m sad that he died, of course, but it doesn’t feel personal. Isn’t that shameful?”

“No. It’s part of your injury. Truthfully, I’m sort of relieved you don’t remember him yet,” Jake said, a hint of sternness coloring his voice. He looked embarrassed by his admission.

“You are? Why?” Gemma’s curiosity about this unusual man grew.

“Because you’re going to need your strength to deal with your living family,” he told her, his voice very gentle. “Mourning will come later.”

“Did you know Kurt?” Gemma sensed something in Jake’s responses that didn’t jibe with her impression of him as open and honest. It felt like he was hiding something.

“I knew Kurt the same length of time as I’ve known you. He was a local, born and raised in Chokecherry Hollow, that’s the town near your foster aunts’ home.” He shrugged. “I liked him a lot and I know he loved you very much.”

“Oh.” There were a hundred questions roiling inside her head, but suddenly Gemma didn’t want to ask them. She needed time to absorb the fact that she had been a wife—and was now a widow.

To escape the miasma of her whirling brain, she retrieved her backpack. She knew her passport was tucked into the exterior zippered pocket because she’d put it there. She saw Celia’s card there, too. But she’d been too tired and too muddled to open the pack that had been handed to her right before she’d left the hospital.

Now curious about what might lie inside, she unzipped the main cavity and began withdrawing the contents. A wallet of soft white leather came first. A driver’s license tucked under clear plastic revealed her own face staring back at her. She looked so happy. Behind it was a small snapshot of her and a blond-haired, blue-eyed man.

“Is this Kurt?” She held the photo so Jake could see.

“Yes.” A muscle flickered in his jaw. “He’s—he was very attractive. You two looked good together.”

Gemma didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at another photo that was partially stuck to the back of Kurt’s, as if the wallet and pictures had been damp. A little girl, also blonde, also blue-eyed, gazed back at her. She wore a fancy dress like children wear at Christmas or on their birthdays. Perhaps four or five, she appeared happy as she clutched a small brown teddy bear and grinned at the camera as if it was her best friend.

“Do you know who this is?” She held up the photo.

“No. I’ve never seen her before.” Jake glanced at her before suggesting, “A foster child you adopted maybe? You used to support several.”

It was a good guess, but it didn’t feel right to Gemma. Since she had no idea why, she set the photo on the console between them while she checked out the rest of the contents in her backpack, including a metal tag with her name embossed on it. Gemma Andrews, Tour Director, WorldWide Tours. It bore deep scratches.

“I think I was wearing this when they found me,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the marks. “I have a bruise this shape near my shoulder...”

A memory flickered on the fringes of her subconscious. People gathered around her, laughing as she told them a story, but she couldn’t quite recall the entire memory.

“That tag is probably how they identified you. Anything else that’s interesting in there?” Jake asked.

“A sweater.” She drew out the lime-green cardigan and fingered the soft wool. “Alpaca. I’m guessing I got this at Arequipa. That’s where you find the best alpaca garments.” The words spilled out spontaneously, shocking her.

“Did you often take your tour groups there?” Jake’s question shook off her surprise.

“Usually. They always gave our guests these wonderful gift packs of Peruvian coffee” Gemma stared at him. “Hey, I remembered that and I didn’t even try.”

“Perhaps that’s the way it’s going to be,” Jake murmured. “The less you strive to think about it, the more relaxed your brain will be, and you’ll recover quickly.”

“Maybe.” It sounded good, but Gemma couldn’t shake an ominous sense that things were going to get a lot tougher. She replaced everything in the pack, except the sweater which she pulled on, and the picture. The little girl’s joyful face gazed back at her. “She looks so happy, as if she loves whomever she’s looking at.” A wave of wistfulness swamped her.

What was it like to feel so loved? To love someone and know they loved you? Frustrated by her inability to recall anything personal, Gemma tucked the photo into her pocket while she searched for a topic of conversation. Jake beat her to it.

“You must be wondering why I came to get you instead of your family. Your aunts intended to come, as if anything could have stopped them.”

“They’re not here and you are, so something must have,” she pointed out.

“True, though I would have driven them anyway because Margaret—well, let’s say city driving’s not her thing.” He chuckled.

“So they changed their minds.” Gemma shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, they didn’t change their minds. Tillie woke up with a sore throat and a fever.” Jake paused to ask if she wanted to stop for anything. When Gemma declined, he continued. “Margaret intended to come until a guest showed up unexpectedly, a military man she’d been corresponding with for some months. He was desperate to speak to her and she was worried about his mental state. She sends her apologies.”

“Oh.” Gemma didn’t understand what he was talking about. Jake must have realized that because he explained.

“For years your aunts have conducted a letter-writing campaign to our overseas military troops to offer them encouragement, prayers and someone to talk to. The ladies have a huge list of correspondents.” He shrugged. “When they get leave, those folks frequently come to The Haven for a visit, to talk to the ladies personally.”

“I see.” So her aunts had several ministries. Which didn’t explain why one of her foster sisters hadn’t come in their place. Gemma had no sooner had the thought than Jake addressed it.

“Your sisters wanted to be here, too,” he told her.

“But?” Was it wrong to feel disappointed that her family had sent their handyman to get her, even though Jake seemed a very nice man?

“Victoria’s going through a difficult pregnancy. She struggles to deal with anything before eleven o’clock in the morning.” Jake grimaced. “Best for her to be sick at home. Adele offered to take Margaret’s place until she got an emergency request to foster two orphaned infants who’d just lost their parents. Olivia’s in hospital because yesterday she gave birth to a brand-new baby daughter. So you’re stuck with me.”

“Not stuck,” Gemma protested. “It’s very kind of you to sacrifice your time—say, what exactly is it that you do at The Haven, Jake?” It felt strange to say those words, as if she should know. But Gemma couldn’t form a mental picture of her family’s home or his work.

“I do whatever your aunts need me to do.” A muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw. “I owe them big-time for saving my life, so fulfilling their needs is my job and my pleasure.”

Saving his life.

Gemma was about to ask about that when she realized they were taking an exit off the highway. And his phone was ringing again.

“Sounds like somebody else needs you,” she said.

“Apparently.” He checked the number before letting it go to voice mail. “I don’t think it’s serious, but I’ll get some coffee and call them back. I was up very early,” he said, obviously aware of her curiosity. “How about you?”

“I don’t mind stopping.” She knew it was an excuse so he wouldn’t have to say more about his past, but that didn’t mean she intended to let the subject go.

Gemma was stymied by her reactions to him. Why did she feel so comfortable with him? What was with this keen interest in Jake? And why did she feel compelled to discover why this strong, competent man would need two elderly women to save his life?

It was natural that she had a lot of questions about herself, important knowledge like who she was, where she’d grown up, her childhood, her foster aunts and sisters, especially her husband. She couldn’t remember any of that. What kind of a woman forgot her own wedding?

But now Gemma also had growing questions about Jake Elliot. A good-looking man, he was tall, solidly built and radiated an empathetic aura of strength and confidence. Rather like a young John Wayne in a very old movie, though this handyman was definitely not old. He was probably close to her age, which was twenty-three according to her passport. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his well-fitting jeans, cotton shirt, cowboy boots and battered leather jacket, while his mussed brown hair and piercing blue eyes made him seem vibrantly alive, unlike the dull blankness that hung over her mind.

Besides all that, Jake was apparently the go-to guy for the community’s needy folks.

A strange combination to be sure, though why he should intrigue her so was a puzzle Gemma couldn’t fathom. The only thing she did know was that Jake wasn’t like her. He knew exactly who he was, where he was going and, unlike her, exactly where he belonged.

It might take time, but she was determined to discover exactly who this poised, handsome handyman was behind the friendly, self-effacing smile.

And somehow she intended to learn why he had needed saving.

Chapter Two

Spurning an offer of coffee, Gemma elected to stretch her legs while Jake returned his calls. Tactfully, he deferred the concerns of each person, assuring them he’d handle their needs when he returned. By the time Gemma reappeared at the car, he’d come up with solutions to each problem presented. The outreaches he did were mostly busy work for his brain, but they helped suppress the barely buried memories of his past. That was exactly why he’d taken on the role of community problem-solver.

“Everything okay?” Gemma asked as she fastened her seat belt.

“Yep. Next stop, The Haven.”

While he drove, Gemma slept. Every so often she would call out or startle and waken herself. Then her long, lush lashes would droop, and she’d doze again.

Jake had a thousand questions. Had she been happy with Kurt? Had marriage lived up to her expectations? Did she regret not having a big, fancy wedding? In the past she’d have told him all of that without his asking. He yearned to rebuild the old camaraderie they’d shared.

He was thinking about her too much. He needed to adjust his thoughts.

In six years of living at The Haven, this was one of a handful of times that Jake had left the place. Was that why he felt so antsy? At The Haven he could bury himself in other people’s issues because there was little about the place to remind him of Lily or of the reason for her death. The folks at The Haven and in Chokecherry Hollow had become a bandage over the pain of his loss.

As Gemma now was?

I promise, Lily. I will never love another as I did you. I will never risk another woman’s life through my selfishness. Never again. I promise.

He was Gemma’s friend and he’d do whatever he could for her, but friendship was all they could ever share.

Jake switched on the radio for distraction, glad when he turned off the highway that Gemma would arrive home in daylight. It wasn’t the Andes in autumn, but springtime in the Canadian Rockies was pretty spectacular.

“Time to wake up,” he said when there were only a few minutes left in their trip. “You need to see this, Gem.”

“I haven’t done a thing and yet all I do is sleep.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wincing when her fingers brushed the injury on her forehead. She yawned and stretched her neck, twisting and turning to get a good look at her surroundings. “Spectacular,” she breathed.

“It is,” Jake said with smug satisfaction, as if the land was his own. “We’ll soon be home. Then you can climb into bed and really rest, if you want.”

He wanted to ease her transition, but how could you help someone who couldn’t remember anything about their past? Maybe he should have let her sleep.

“I’ve always loved the snowcaps on these mountains.” She paused. “I mean, I think I have.”

“You don’t have to monitor every word. Just take it as it comes, Gem. And I know exactly how you feel.” The serenity of the vast forest surrounding The Haven filled Jake’s soul. He loved it here. This was his haven and he never wanted to leave, though technically it wasn’t his home. He’d lost that the day—

Jake shoved away the guilt and drove uphill toward the big stone house where the aunts lived.

“Jake?” Gemma’s voice came soft, breathless.

“Yeah.” He glanced at her. Worried by her pallor, he pulled to the side of the road. “Feel sick?”

“Yes. What if I don’t ever remember them?” She grabbed his arm and clung to it. “What if this never feels like home? I’m so scared.”

“Don’t be.” He wrapped her icy fingers in his and held on to them, trying to ease her discomfort the way a movie hero would simply because Gemma—the old Gemma—had always admired white-knight heroes. “Everything is going to be fine. There’s no rush about remembering. You’ll do it when you’re ready. No one will pressure you. Everyone will understand. All they care about is that you’re home and unhurt—well, mostly unhurt,” he corrected with a smile, wishing she’d lose that terrified expression.

“But—but—”

“Gem.” He gave in to his longing to comfort her and slid his palm against her cheek for just a second. “You used to have a special verse you’d recite whenever you needed to encourage yourself. Do you remember it? It starts, ‘God is our refuge and our strength.’” He removed his hand and waited for her to finish it.

‘“A tested help in times of trouble.’” Eyes wide, she nodded. “I do remember that.”

“Now think about the words,” he suggested while his brain called him a hypocrite. God hasn’t been your refuge or strength, Jake. Not for years.

She remained silent for a few moments before huffing a sigh.

“Okay. Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Atta girl.” He shifted into gear. “The Haven’s gorgeous, isn’t it? All that stonework with those towers and—” One glance at Gem’s face and Jake cut off his commentary, sensing that she needed silence to gather her pluck for the reunion ahead.

He sent up a prayer for her, for strength and a calm spirit, and then wondered at himself. He didn’t talk to God anymore. Hadn’t since... Anyway, Gemma Andrews wasn’t his responsibility.

Yet from the first day he’d arrived at The Haven, Jake had felt protective of her, as if he had to be there in case she needed him.

“There are so many of them!” Gemma gasped, drawing his attention to the house and the folks assembled on the driveway.

“Those aren’t all your relatives,” he sputtered, amused by her shocked expression. “I’m guessing your family arranged for whatever kids’ group is visiting The Haven to form a welcoming committee. Relax,” he chided as her fingers tightened around her seat belt. He parked, turned off the car and waited a moment before asking, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she whispered. She lifted her hand to open her door, pausing when Jake shook his head.

“Wait.” He climbed out, strode to her side and offered a hand to help her exit the car. Her hair had loosened from the topknot she’d tied it in earlier and now tumbled past her waist. Her face was strained and the jeans she wore had seen better days.

But Jake thought she had never looked lovelier.

“Welcome home, Gemma,” he said softly, and then he drew her forward to meet her family.

* * *

Gemma licked her lips as she mentally reminded herself, They’re my family. My family.

She didn’t feel like she belonged with them.

“Our dear, dear girl.” One of the elderly women, an auntie perhaps, wrapped her in a gentle, fragrant embrace. She brushed a kiss against Gemma’s brow before holding her back to examine her. “We are so thankful you’re home, dear.”

“I—er, I’m glad to be here,” she whispered. It wasn’t home—not yet—but how could a mere hug feel so wonderful? She glanced from one lady to the other. “You’re twins!” Her face burned at the peals of laughter around her.

“Guess I forgot to tell you that, Gem. This is your Aunt Tillie,” Jake explained.

“Hello. Jake said you were ill.” As Gemma squeezed her hand she noticed the woman’s red nose. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

“A simple case of the summer sniffles. Some people worry too much,” Tillie said with a glare at her doppelganger.

“You are Aunt Margaret. It’s very nice to—” Gemma had been going to say meet you. But that was hardly appropriate. “To be here,” she finished.

“My dear, you should be resting in bed.” Margaret wrapped tender arms around her in a second hug. “You’ve had a dreadful ordeal.”

“I’m fine.” Gemma had never felt more on show.

“Margaret tends to fuss,” Tillie murmured.

“It’s nice to be fussed over, but I’m truly all right.” She wanted to get this over with. “Thank you for the welcome,” she said, scanning the assembled group. One glance at Jake and he immediately understood. He nodded at someone and after the group of children had sung a welcome song they hurried away, apparently to other activities.

“These are your sisters, Gemma.” He introduced each woman, her husband and her children.

Her foster sisters at least resembled the descriptions he’d given her during their long ride here. Their children’s names would require memorizing.

“I should have brought gifts,” Gemma whispered to Jake when the silence stretched too long.

“No, you shouldn’t have, Gem,” Victoria said. “All we care about—all we’ve been praying for—is that you’d come home safely.”

“I care about presents, Auntie Vic!” A little girl glared at her aunt until her mother—Adele?—hushed her. “Well, I like ’em,” she muttered defiantly.

Gemma grinned at her. “I like presents, too,” she said.

“We’re so sad about Kurt, Gemmie.” Olivia, a tiny baby snugged against her chest in some type of sack, embraced her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“Thank you.” Go through? Oh, she means losing my husband. But I can’t even remember what Kurt looked like, just as I can’t remember any of you. “Jake said your baby is brand-new,” she murmured, staring at the delicate face and wondering if she’d ever wanted to be a mother. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. This is your niece, Mirella. She’s pleased to meet you.”

“Me, too, Mirella.” Gemma stirred at the touch on her shoulder. Jake. Her protector. When he smiled, her tension eased.

Thank You, God, for Jake. Funny how natural it seemed to pray. Was she very religious? How could she not know something like that?

As if sensing her confusion, Jake asked, “How about some lemonade on the deck, Gem?”

“Great idea! What’s wrong with us, keeping our girl standing here?” Tillie smiled at Gemma before turning to Margaret. “Come, sister. Let’s savor this blessing of having our four girls home once more. It’s been forever, or so it seems.”

“Thank you all for your warm welcome,” Gemma repeated politely.

Her family—how strange that word felt—sat around her on a huge deck overlooking a picturesque valley. Everyone chattered at once. It should have sounded like bedlam, and yet to Gemma, the loving, teasing voices and laughing children who played boisterously nearby were a balm to her jumbled mind. With the warm sun on her face and several delicious cookies in her stomach, her eyelids soon drooped.

“Gem?” Tension underlaid Jake’s husky drawl.

“Yes?” She blinked before forcing herself to sit up straight. “Did I fall asleep again? I’m so sorry,” she apologized to the group who now stared at her with sympathy. “Is my hair a mess?” When she lifted her hand to smooth the strands she noticed an older man in a three-piece suit standing at the edge of the patio. “I’m sorry if I should know you,” she began to apologize. She stopped when Jake’s fingers squeezed her shoulder.

“Gemma, this is Wilber Hornby. He’s a local lawyer.” There was a graveness to Jake’s tone that she didn’t like. “He’s here about Kurt.”

“Now?” She frowned. “But I only just got here—”

“I’m very sorry,” Mr. Hornby said in precise diction. “But Kurt was most insistent that if anything happened to him, I was to speak to you immediately. I promised I would do so, therefore I have come.”

Only then did Gemma notice that, one by one, her family had silently left. Only her aunts, Jake and the lawyer remained with her. This must be serious. Funeral plans?

“O-okay.” As she drained her glass of lemonade, she realized that Jake was about to depart, too. “Please stay?” she begged. “Please?”

Jake glanced at the aunts. They nodded. He appeared to consider something but finally shrugged and sat down. Gemma mouthed thanks before turning to face the sober-faced lawyer.

“What is this about?” she asked.

“It’s about a girl,” Mr. Hornby said. “Your husband’s four-year-old stepdaughter. Her name is Alexa.”

Gemma had steeled herself to hear something important, perhaps something about Kurt’s final wishes or... Wait a minute.

“My husband was married before me?” She turned questioningly toward Jake and was astonished by his outraged glared at the lawyer.

“Kurt Andrews never had eyes for anyone but Gemma for as long as I knew him.” Jake glowered at the lawyer. “He was always crazy in love with her. What are you saying?”

The way Jake said the words, fiercely, with his blue eyes glittering, jaw clenched and his back ramrod straight—it was as if this man was indignant on her behalf, Gemma thought wonderingly. That made her feel special, valued, precious.

“I have a letter from Mr. Andrews to his wife that will explain,” Mr. Hornby began, drawing an envelope from his briefcase.

He held it out, but Gemma couldn’t take it. She wasn’t sure exactly why, only that she didn’t want to have to deal with anything more right now, especially not a letter from a husband she couldn’t remember.

“Can’t it wait?” she begged, sending Jake a pleading look.

“Kurt’s direction to me was to proceed as quickly as I could.” The lawyer’s set face told Gemma he would do his duty no matter what.

“Perhaps in this instance, Wilber,” Aunt Tillie said softly, placing her hand on his arm, “we might dispense with her reading the letter right now. Couldn’t you just tell Gemma the gist of it?” She glanced at her sister for support. “After all...”

The two women shared a look that told Gemma they knew, or at least guessed what was in that envelope.

“Those are not the terms—”

“I know, Wilber. And you’ve been most circumspect in coming here as soon as our dear girl arrived home,” Margaret soothed. “But Gemma isn’t herself. She’s been through an earthquake and she has amnesia. The doctor’s orders are for her to minimize stress.”

Even Gemma could see the lawyer weakening under the genteel ladies’ soft words and beseeching expressions. She had a hunch that there weren’t many people who could deny these aunties whatever they asked for. They were characters. It would be fun to get to know them.

“If you could just explain to Gemma what you need from her, sir,” Jake added quietly. “Once she knows whatever it is, she can think about it and come back to you if she needs clarification.”

She threw him a grateful look. He was such a sweet man to always keep smoothing the way for her.

Always? Jake had smoothed her way before?

“Is that your wish, Mrs. Andrews?”

Gemma glanced around, wondering whom he was addressing and found everyone staring at her. Oh. Mrs. Andrews. That was her name. How strange.

“Gemma?” Mr. Hornby pressed.

“Yes, please. Just tell me the basics,” she said, nodding.

“Very well, though it’s rather difficult...” Mr. Hornby paused, gathered his thoughts and then began speaking. “Your husband—you remember he went to college after finishing high school?”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember anything,” Gemma told him. “Just pretend we never met before and tell me what you think I need to know about, um, Kurt.”

“All right.” Hornby cleared his throat. “He told me he was uncertain about his next step and went to college to try to figure things out. While he was there he met a woman, Anna, a law student in her final year, who became a good friend. Kurt learned she was pregnant and desperate to finish school. She felt she had no way to raise a child and adoption was out because she couldn’t pay for a delay in her education. She intended to have an abortion.”

“I see.” So the stepchild must be the Alexa he’s talking about. But why would my husband...?

“Kurt was totally against abortion. He said he tried desperately to talk Anna out of it, but she would not be swayed. She saw no other option.” Hornby paused for breath, then continued. “To be brief, Kurt persuaded her to marry him, insisting he’d support her until the child was born and continue to work to ensure the child was cared for while Anna finished her schooling. Nothing romantic about it, Kurt said. His whole concern was for the child. Anna finally agreed to marry him on condition he told no one about their arrangement.”

“Where was I during all this?” Gemma asked, struggling to absorb the information.

“Overseas, at language school,” Jake said immediately. His face reddened at the surprised looks from the aunts. “I remember that’s where you went after high school.”

“You are correct, Jake. Gemma spent time mastering languages in Europe,” Margaret agreed somberly.

Mr. Hornby cleared his throat.

“Please go on.” A sudden chill made Gemma shiver. Now what?

“When the child, Alexa, was born, Kurt took care of her. He loved her, but he hated the secrecy of not being able to share her with his family. So after Anna graduated, Kurt came home one weekend to tell his parents the truth. When he returned, Anna and her child were gone.” Mr. Hornby took off his glasses and polished them on his handkerchief.

“Gone where?” Gemma realized she was perched on the edge of her lawn chair. “And how do I fit in?”

“Anna later called Kurt to explain that she’d arranged for them to divorce. She had a new job and wanted a fresh start for herself and Alexa, and for Kurt. Anna was adamant that Kurt belonged with you. She’d always known he loved you.” Mr. Hornby managed a smile.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, a little embarrassed. It didn’t seem like the lawyer was talking about anyone she knew.

“Mrs. Andrews, Kurt told me he loved you dearly and that there’d only ever been friendship between him and Anna.” The lawyer’s hard face softened. “But little Alexa had stolen a piece of his heart. Kurt had no legal or biological claim to her, of course. Still, he felt that if ever she needed him, as his mother had needed him, there should be funds available for her. That’s why he set up her trust fund. His request was that if he was not able, you should manage the fund for Alexa. Kurt had great faith in your ability to protect her.” He held up the letter. “This is his explanation to you about the matter.”

“But why didn’t he just tell me himself? Why did he keep it a secret?” Gemma’s head ached as the knowledge whirled round and round inside it. The letter in her hand felt heavy, full of problems, and she already had too many of those. “What am I supposed to do with this fund? Make sure it’s invested properly—something like that?” She glanced at Jake for help, but he appeared as puzzled as she felt. “I don’t know anything about investing or trust funds.”

Something clicked in her brain, like her words weren’t quite true. But she didn’t understand how that could be. And suddenly this world of everything unknown felt like it was closing in on her.

“May I say something, dear?” Tillie’s soft voice broke through Gemma’s confusion. “Margaret and I knew about Alexa. Kurt’s parents confided in us.”

“That was one of the reasons for the disagreement,” Margaret chimed in.

“What disagreement?” Gemma read disapproval on the ladies’ faces.

“My dear, you came home to announce your elopement and we were very happy for both of you.” Margaret’s smile eased some of the tension gripping Gemma.

“But when we asked your husband privately if he’d told you about Alexa, he insisted that he wanted you to meet the child first so you could bond, but Anna and Alexa were away that weekend.” Sadness edged Tillie’s words. “We disagreed with Kurt’s decision. We felt he should have explained about the child before you agreed to marry him. I’m afraid it caused a bit of a rift between us and him.”

“He certainly should have told me the truth before we got married,” Gemma said, feeling indignant for Kurt’s wife. Wait, that was her! “But since he didn’t, it’s a moot point.”

Everyone was watching her, including Jake. She shifted uncomfortably, waiting for someone to speak. When they didn’t, she blurted out her thoughts.

“So what now? Am I supposed to do something about Alexa? Is she okay? And what in the world could I do anyway? I haven’t even got a job.” Worried and muddled, Gemma fumed. “I can’t help myself, let alone a child.”

“May I suggest something, Gem?” Jake’s smile somehow calmed her. “Maybe you could find out about Alexa, make sure she and her mom are all right. At least then you’d have peace of mind.”

“I guess I could do that,” she agreed, then frowned. “What do I do after that?”

“If Alexa doesn’t need Kurt’s money, you could ensure it’s wisely invested and then leave it to grow until she does need it,” he said with a shrug.

“That sounds advisable,” the lawyer agreed.

“Yes,” Tillie said, though she was frowning. She looked at her sister.

“It does sound good. Only, Alexa and her mom aren’t all right,” Margaret blurted.

“How do you know that?” Jake studied the sisters with narrowed eyes.

“We’ve kept tabs on them. Kurt and Gemma were away so much, you see.” Margaret cleared her throat. “We felt it our duty to watch over the child.”

“And so?” Gemma replied automatically. She felt so confused and muddled and her headache was back.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Anna was accidentally killed three days ago in a drive-by shooting.” Tillie’s sad voice was hushed.

“The day of the earthquake,” Gemma whispered, aghast.

“Yes.” Margaret sighed. “Apparently Anna had a will that named Kurt as Alexa’s guardian in the event of her own death. Because there are no other relatives and Kurt was unreachable, Anna’s daughter, Alexa, was placed in foster care. We’ve been praying and praying for a way to help the child.”

“Yes,” Margaret exclaimed. “And now you’re home, Gemma. A true answer to prayer.”

“Me?” Gemma blinked. She glanced sideways at Jake and found no help in his shrug. So she studied her aunts. “I’m an answer to prayer? What am I supposed to do?”

“We have no idea, dear,” Tillie said, her smile sweet.

“Not yet. But we’ll think of something,” Margaret said confidently. “We always do.” She rose. “Or you will. Oh, dear, look at the time. I’m so sorry, Gemmie, but Tillie and I must leave. We have an appointment in Chokecherry Hollow that we simply cannot cancel, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“My dear girl,” Tillie said, rising and moving close to pat her shoulder. “You’re safe now. Jake will show you around The Haven and your room is waiting for you. As always.”

Gemma sat stunned as the ladies kissed her cheek and told her again how glad they were to have her home. Then they bustled away. The lawyer rose, too.

“I must also depart. As Kurt’s executor, I’m happy to answer any questions you may have, Mrs. Andrews—Gemma. Call on me anytime.” He, too, left.

Gemma felt like Dorothy in Oz, right after the tornado had touched down. Wait, how did she remember that?

“Well, I guess I’d better get started answering those calls—” Jake started to say.

“No you don’t!” He was her lifeline and she wasn’t about to let go of him in this sea of confusion. “You brought me here, Jake. You got me into this. Now help me figure it out.”

He opened his mouth to protest, studied her for a moment and then poured himself another glass of lemonade. He sat down, huffed out a huge sigh and swallowed half of the pale yellow liquid.

“I’m only The Haven’s handyman, Gem,” he said weakly.

“You’re the fixer, that’s why all those people called you,” she said, struggling to make sense of everything she’d learned. “Now help me figure out how to fix things for this child that my husband loved so dearly, when I can’t even remember my own name. Wait a minute. That picture.” She blinked, remembering the photo of the smiling child.

“Gem, are you okay? You look...weird.”

“The picture that was in my wallet. That must be Alexa. Maybe Kurt did tell me about her and I just forgot. Along with everything else.” Suddenly the sun felt too hot, the problems too large, the decisions too overwhelming. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain she thought she could hear a man’s voice calling, Take care of her. Take care of Alexa.

The world wobbled. Had she really heard that or was she dreaming? She felt so strange.

“Jake?” she whispered.

“Yes, Gem?” His voice came from a long way away.

“Have I ever fainted before?” Gemma didn’t hear his reply as she slid off her chair and onto the patio.

Chapter Three

For the next two days, Jake stayed away from The Haven, trying to catch up with his work and hoping to give Gemma time to absorb everything in her world. But with each day that passed, his concern about her ramped up. Somebody had to do something.

Though he’d called the local doctor after Gemma had fainted, though she’d been given a thorough checkup and she had pooh-poohed his concern, he worried. She did look and sound fine, yet she seemed somehow diminished. Apparently her interest in Alexa had also lapsed because she remained silent on that issue.

“Want to check out our fishing hole this afternoon?” Jake had asked yesterday when he’d seen her sitting on the deck. He’d pointed out the spot, expecting she’d jump at the chance to resume her favorite activity.

“I just showered. I’ll get dirty scrabbling down that hill,” she’d mumbled, barely meeting his gaze. “Anyway, Adele’s a chef. She doesn’t need me to bring home supper.”

Excuses made, Gemma had resumed staring across the valley.

It seemed to Jake that she couldn’t muster the strength to move on with her life. Since Tillie and Margaret gave the impression they were perfectly content to let their foster daughter float through the days, Jake felt it was up to him to help her snap out of it. Which was why when he found Gemma in the kitchen near noon today, still swathed in her bathrobe, he discarded his white-glove treatment.

“Since you’re not busy, can you help me out?” He was relieved that his peremptory tone jarred her from her vacant stare through the massive window to the distant mountains.

“Help you out with what?” Though Gemma looked at him, her gaze was hazy, unfocused.

“With my work here at The Haven.” It was the only thing he could think of to motivate her. “I’m behind.”

“Because you took time off to come get me.” As he’d expected, Gemma immediately jerked upright. Twin dots of color appeared in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?” She sounded more like herself. “I don’t know that much about your work, or anything else for that matter. But I’ll help however I can if you’ll show me what to do.”

“For starters, get dressed. Old clothes. We’ll be working in the dirt.” Jake lifted one eyebrow when she simply sat there. “Well?”

“Dressed. Got it.” Gemma rose and strode across the room. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned. “Will you wait here, or should I find you?”

“I’m already late,” he told her in a brusque tone that he despised but used because it seemed to be shocking her out of her dazed lethargy. “Find me in the garden.”

“The garden.” She didn’t move. “Uh, the garden is...?”

He pointed.

“Right. I’ll be there in five minutes,” Gemma promised.

“Wear a sun hat,” he called after her retreating form.

“Do you think that was wise, dear?” Tillie murmured.

Jake whirled to find the aunts standing behind him, both wearing disapproving frowns. They’d obviously overheard his less than gentle tone. Jake mentally grimaced, hating that he’d caused that look of strain on their sweet faces.

“Gemma needs to be busy, to be doing something,” he explained gently. “Sitting around, waiting for her memory to return isn’t helping her.”

“What if it doesn’t return?” Margaret’s hushed tone revealed her concern.

“Ladies,” Jake chided with a smile. “Where’s your faith?” He was rewarded with their nods. “Until Gemma’s memory returns, she needs a purpose. Maybe gardening will give her that.” Did he sound more certain than he felt? “It’s better than doing nothing,” he offered belatedly.

“Yes, it is,” Tillie agreed.

“Thank you for trying to help, Jake,” Margaret added. “We’ve been afraid to push Gemma. Shame on us for our lack of faith in God.”

“It’s time we prayed about this in a different way, sister.” Tillie slipped her hand in Margaret’s arm and drew her out of the room. A moment later Gemma appeared clad in raggedy jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie and a sun hat he hadn’t seen for years.

“I thought you said you weren’t waiting,” she accused, her megawatt smile flashing. “The aunts,” she guessed. “They waylaid me, too.” She waved a piece of delicate pink notepaper.

“A Bible verse?” Jake guessed as he held the door for her to exit The Haven.

“Uh-huh.” She handed it over so he could read the spidery script.

Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.

“Psalm 139.” Jake handed back the note which Gemma folded and tucked into her back pocket.

“You know it?” She seemed surprised, yet her stride matched his and she never faltered.

“Sure, I know it.” Jake hesitated to say more, but being Gemma, he figured she’d keep pressing for the why. “It’s a good verse. I looked it up after someone said it to me once.” He glanced her way and almost smiled at her raised eyebrows. She’d always been full of questions.

“Why did they quote that verse to you?”

“It was after a funeral.” Two funerals, actually. Change the subject, Jake. “Did you think more about Kurt’s stepdaughter?”

“Alexa. I haven’t been able to think of anything else. I’m almost certain she’s the child in that picture I found in my wallet. Maybe Kurt told me about her or maybe I found out.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll never know.”

“Either one sounds plausible.” Relieved she hadn’t brushed off the orphaned child, he asked, “Are you going to apply for her guardianship?”

“Me?” She gaped at him. “What do I know about kids? I was thinking more along the lines of bringing Alexa here for a visit. I’ve been watching the kids who come. They all seem to have a wonderful time.”

“Yes.” Jake had hoped for more, hoped for Gemma to interact with the child. Maybe if her focus wasn’t on what she’d forgotten...

“You want me to weed?” Gemma stood at the fenced entrance to the garden, surveying it.

“Do you want to?” He smothered a laugh at her eager nod.

“Yes! I love weeding.” As soon as the words were out, her forehead pleated. Her expression faltered. “Don’t I?” she asked hesitantly.

“You did.” He handed her a pair of work gloves she’d left behind long ago, and grinned as she slid them onto her slender fingers. “You’ve loved weeding ever since the first time the aunts sent you out to weed as punishment for some misdeed. You were supposed to work an hour. You were here for three and I didn’t have to do it again for a week. You used to beg them to send you out to weed.” He chuckled. “I often wondered if you sometimes broke a rule or misbehaved just so you could get your fingers in the dirt.”

“Sounds like I was a brat.” Gemma knelt and with a touch born of long experience, eased a thistle out of the ground from between tender carrot shoots. “Was that why I eloped, do you think, to break a rule?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Gem. You never said.” Jake sank to his knees in the next row and began extricating the unwanted green invaders from around his beans.

Silence stretched between them, a comfortable peace The Haven always seemed to engender in him. At least it had until Gem’s return. For some reason Jake now felt like he had to keep up his guard, had to keep reminding himself of his vow to Lily.

“There’s something wonderful about weeding,” Gemma murmured more to herself than him. “It’s exciting, like you’re preparing the way for something. You can’t see exactly what’s happening, but you know the end result will be so good. We’ll have carrots.” She said it almost triumphantly.

“And peas and beans and...” Jake let it trail away, amused by the satisfaction filling her face.

“I remember once when I was in Italy—” Gemma stopped, blinked and stared at him. “I remember something!”

“Good. What is it?” He kept on weeding, waiting to hear whatever thought was emerging. Listening to Gemma speak about her travels had always fascinated him.

“I was in a garden there.” She leaned back on her heels, her gaze on some far distant place. “There were the most massive tomatoes and I was picking the best.” She stopped and grinned at him. “To make sauce for lasagna. Or rather, Mamma Francesca was teaching me how to make it. Those tomatoes were so delicious.”

“Cool,” he murmured, watching the wash of sun light up her face. Gemma was gorgeous. Then shadows filled her eyes.

“I don’t know what else happened,” she murmured. “I can’t—”

“Remember,” he finished for her and winked.

“Exactly!” Gemma exclaimed. She burst out laughing and the tense lines dissipated.

They worked together for a while in a genial silence that required no speaking. Jake had a hunch she was remembering more, but he remained quiet, loathe to interrupt.

“I must have been to Italy several times,” she eventually murmured. “In my mind I can see the Coliseum, the tower of Pisa and a spot on a mountain where there was an eruption.”

“Vesuvius,” Jake offered.

“No. Mt. Etna. Three days after Kurt and I left, there was an eruption. It was a big tour group and we were so glad we hadn’t delayed...” Gemma blinked several times, then twisted her head to look at him. “Why can’t I remember my husband, Jake?”

“You will. But you have a lot of memories tucked in that lovely head. I guess they can’t all come at once.” He kept working.

“What am I supposed to do until I do remember?” A hint of bitterness colored her voice. “That’s part of what bothers me with the whole Alexa thing. What do I have to offer her? I don’t remember how to lead a tour anymore, but even if I did, how could I travel and care for a child? Or am I supposed to stay here and freeload off the aunts until I remember my life? If I ever do, that is.”

“Gemma,” Jake scolded. “Last year your sister was injured while rock climbing. Nobody thought she was freeloading when she stayed in bed to let her leg heal. Olivia happily took over her job.”

“Victoria always did love scaling the most treacherous places,” Gemma muttered, apparently unaware that she’d identified which sister without any prompting. “But this is different. I don’t work here.”

“Maybe you could for a while,” he suggested.

“Doing what?” she asked, eyebrows arched. “Showing people around? Kind of hard since I don’t know my own way around the place.”

“You’ll figure it out. Give it some thought. I’m sure you’ll find a niche in The Haven’s ministry that only you can fill.” He paused before asking, “What will you do about Alexa?”

Gemma rose. She studied the group of kids playing dodgeball nearby in a grassy meadow. Then she considered the circle of stones they’d gathered around last evening to roast marshmallows. Lastly she surveyed the play equipment her sisters used for their own children. She remained silent for some time. When she did speak there was a hesitancy to her words that told Jake she was struggling to sort out her emotions.

“I think I’ll ask Victoria to find out if Alexa can come here for a visit.”

“That’s a great idea.” Jake hoped she wouldn’t change her mind. A lonely child could be exactly what Gemma needed to take her mind off her own problems.

“We can get to know each other. I don’t want to abandon this child whom my husband apparently cared for so deeply,” she murmured, forehead pleated. “But what if—?”

“I’ll help you,” he interrupted, wondering why he was doing this when he’d spent the past six years basically isolating himself at The Haven. Now he was going to help with some orphaned little girl he didn’t even know? Yes.

“Thank you, Jake.” Gemma’s smile somehow made it all make sense. “What will we do with her?”

“Help her join in the activities with all the other kids,” he said, glancing over her head at a group of kids now flying kites. “There’s always something to do here.”

“I suppose.” The way Gemma dragged out the word proved he’d missed the intent of her question. “I actually meant what will I do with her? What kind of things would help me get to know Alexa?”

“You were always good with kids, Gem. You’ll think of something. And you do have Kurt in common. But I’m not sure you need to plan it all out ahead of time,” he cautioned. “Maybe you wait, watch to see what she enjoys and build on that.”

“How did you get to be so smart about kids, Jake?” Gemma moved farther down the row, annihilating weeds as if driven.

“I’m not smart about kids,” he denied as the familiar surge of loss bloomed inside. I didn’t get that chance. Don’t go there. “Hey,” he challenged, desperate to change the subject. “Are you doing the corn rows or am I?”

“You take forever. I’ll do it.” She shot him a cheeky grin. “You always baby the seedlings too much. Once they’re out of your greenhouse and in the ground, they’ll toughen up. You have to be strong to live in the foothills of the Rockies.”

“So now you’re the gardener who’s giving me advice?” He relaxed, comfortable with their familiar banter. “Any suggestions you want to share about the rhubarb? Your aunts want three more plants.”

“What on earth for?” Gemma’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “It’s so sour.”

“Not when Adele mixes it with my strawberries and adds a big dollop of ice cream. What?” he demanded when she hooted with laughter.

“You can’t grow strawberries here, Jake.” She looked so alive, so vibrant, so...Gemma.

He’d forgotten she hadn’t visited last summer because she’d been escorting a group on a cruise through the Northwest Passage. So now, of course, she razed him mercilessly about trying to grow delicate strawberry plants at this elevation. Jake endured it for a little while, but with his pride at stake, he finally rose and beckoned.

“Follow me, oh doubting one,” he ordered.

Gemma had always been lousy at hiding her emotions and right now her curiosity was in control. She dusted off her grubby gloves against her dirty knees and hopped across the rows to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“Wait for it.” He led her around an outcropping of stones. “Feast your eyes on my strawberry garden, doubter.” He drew one fat red fruit off its stem and ensured it was relatively clean before setting it on her palm. “First berry of the season.”

Wide-eyed, Gemma inspected the fruit before popping it into her mouth. A flush of satisfaction filled Jake when she slowed her chewing to allow the flavors to permeate her taste buds. Her zest for life, her eagerness about everything it offered, that’s what he wanted her to recover.

“Well?” he demanded, stupidly eager to hear her opinion.

“Amazing.” Her big expansive smile did funny things to his stomach. “How did you get them to survive?”

Jake figured his explanation probably went into too much detail and droned on for too long, but Gemma seemed to listen to every word. This was the old Gem. This intense interest in life was what had first drawn him to her.

“So by packing those stones around to soak in the heat, and by raising the beds, you create a warmer, sheltered area.” She clapped her hands together. “Bravo, Monsieur Horticulturalist.”

He’d missed her enthusiasm.

“Yield?” She bent to study the way he’d laid the new runners.

“Last year was good. It’s too early to tell this year.” Funny how pleased he was by her interest. “I’m hopeful we’ll get enough for Adele to freeze for next...”

Suddenly Gemma wasn’t listening. She gazed over the valley, but Jake doubted she was seeing the meadow with its wildflowers waving in the wind. Something else was going on inside that auburn head.

“Why do I keep thinking about roses, Jake?” She turned to frown at him, green eyes dark and swirling. “Is it something to do with my past?”

He shook his head.

“Mine,” he said very quietly. Of all things, why did she have to remember that?

Eyes stretched wide, she waited for an explanation.

“I grow roses in the greenhouse.” He pushed past a tide of memories. “I experiment with them.”

“The Lilian.” Her frown deepened. “I keep hearing that name.”

“We should finish up weeding. It will soon be time for dinner.” He wanted to walk away, to ignore her question, to retreat to the silence that he should never have left.

Jake wanted to leave, but he couldn’t ignore Gem’s question, not when she was so desperate to learn about her past. Besides, The Lilian was part of her past, too.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong.” Her hand touched his fleetingly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. The Lilian was a prototype of a rose that I used to work on when you lived here before. In memory of—someone,” he substituted at the last moment.

“Which has to do with the funeral you mentioned, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.” Gemma said it so quickly that Jake figured he must have visibly reacted. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

She walked to the corn rows and began industriously weeding between stalks. Jake watched her for a few minutes, but he couldn’t stay. Mention of The Lilian had brought back his old restlessness along with a wealth of excruciatingly painful memories. He had to get out of here before they overwhelmed him and turned him into a weeping wimp.

Take them tomorrow, Jake. Don’t go today, please? What does one more day matter?

Lily’s voice.

Teeth gritted, he wheeled around and strode out of the garden enclosure, carefully latching the gate to keep out invaders before he race-walked to his small cabin. Inside he made himself a thermos of strong coffee, grabbed a couple of protein bars and changed into his hiking boots. Backpack secure and walking stick in hand, he stepped onto the trail he hiked whenever he needed to break free of his past.

When Jake reached the top of the first incline, he ignored the voice in his head and turned back. Gemma was still in the garden, but now she stood, one hand shading her eyes as she looked directly at him, motionless for several moments. Then she knelt and continued with her weeding, as if she understood that he wanted to be alone.

Wanted to be alone? No.

But that’s the way it was. Would always be. Had to be.

* * *

Gemma set the foil-covered dishes on the counter in Jake’s cabin and moved toward the door. She didn’t want to look around, didn’t want to invade his personal space when he wasn’t there. But she couldn’t help noticing how clean, how sterile everything seemed.

No pictures of loved ones. No books on side tables. Nothing left lying around. Nothing to hint at the intriguing man who’d abandoned her in the garden earlier and hadn’t yet returned.

Her fingers were reaching for the door handle when it opened.

“Hi.” Jake stood there, studying her.

“Hi. You missed dinner, so the aunts sent me over with some,” she blurted, feeling the heat singe her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not. But you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. I’m not very hungry.” He stepped inside, set his pack on the tiny table and faced her. “Thank you though.”

“It’s Adele’s lasagna and it’s amazing.” She blinked, then grinned. “You probably already know that. See you.”

Gemma scurried back to the house, feeling like a frightened rabbit. The barrenness of Jake’s quarters and his earlier reticence after she’d asked about The Lillian frightened her. Was that because subconsciously she knew that if he answered all her questions, if he was completely honest with her, she’d know for sure that she didn’t belong at The Haven?

But if she didn’t belong here, then where did she belong? Certainly not in the cheap Toronto apartment the aunts had described. Not anymore. From their description she’d figured it was a tiny place where newlyweds constantly ran into each other and enjoyed it. That romantic place belonged to another newly married Gemma.

This Gemma didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to feel even more out of place, even more distanced from the woman whom everyone but she remembered. More than that, she didn’t want to not belong anywhere else. So during dinner she’d asked her aunts how she could have her things moved without physically traveling to Toronto. Of course they had a friend who had a friend and by next week everything she and Kurt owned would supposedly arrive here at The Haven. And then what?

Her mind immediately turned to Jake. He’d help her deal with it. She didn’t know why she was so sure of that, she just knew it was true. But was it fair to ask him?

Gemma had so many questions about her rescuer and very few answers. So far Jake was the only one who’d expressly said she belonged here.

If only she could believe him.

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