Desperate Strangers. Carla Cassidy

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      THE BROKEN LAMP and the shattered glass from the painting horrified her. She’d never been a fighter and rarely lost her temper. At least she remembered that about herself from a year ago. What had happened in the past ten months that had turned her into a woman who would throw a candle at a beautiful painting? Who apparently didn’t have any control over her emotions?

      Nick looked at the mess, grimaced and then gazed at her. “Let’s get all this cleaned up.” He set his hoodie down on one of the living room chairs.

      She got a broom and dustpan from the utility room just off the kitchen and then returned to the living room where Nick had righted the floor lamp.

      “This isn’t who we are,” he said as they worked on the cleanup. “We’ve both been under some stress and this was the first time something like this has ever happened between us.”

      His words made her feel somewhat better, but they did nothing to staunch a faint, simmering fear that had been inside her since she’d regained consciousness in the ambulance.

      She knew instinctively the fear didn’t come from being around Nick. Rather, strangely, he was a comfort, a solid anchor in a sea that had become alien.

      They worked silently until all of the glass had been cleaned up. “I think I need to check out the whole house to orient myself,” she said as she dumped the last of the glass into the trash bin.

      “That sounds like a good idea,” he replied. “I’ll come with you.”

      She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate it.”

      Thankfully the downstairs was exactly as she remembered it to be. Her hand slid up the oak banister and with each step she wished Nick would just hold her for a moment and tell her everything was going to be all right.

      She groaned faintly as she climbed upward.

      “Are you okay?” he asked from behind her.

      “I’m fine, just sore. I have to admit I feel like I was run over by a truck.” Muscles she hadn’t known she possessed now protested her movements.

      “The doctor warned us that you would probably be sore for the next couple of days,” he replied.

      “I just hope everything up here is the same as I remember it,” she said when they reached the landing. “I’d feel more centered if there aren’t any more surprises.”

      “I hope so, too,” he replied.

      She breathed a quick sigh of relief as she walked straight down the hall and entered her bedroom. The coral-colored bedspread with turquoise throw pillows was achingly familiar. The knickknacks, the artwork on the wall, and the nightstands and dresser were just as she remembered them.

      “You good?” he asked.

      She turned and flashed him another smile. “So far, so good.”

      A quick glance in the other two bedrooms further assured her that at least here, in her house, nothing had changed. The room she used as her home office still had paperwork strewed across the top of the desk and the other bedroom was an attractive and clean guest room.

      Even as relief winged through her, an overwhelming exhaustion struck her. Her body was sore and her brain was working too hard to remember something—anything—from the past year.

      She stepped closer to Nick and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned into him. “Just hold me a minute, please.” There was a moment of hesitation and then his arms surrounded her. Was the faint scent of his spicy cologne familiar? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely appealing.

      “I’m scared, Nick,” she whispered into the hollow of his throat. “I feel so lost right now. Could you stay here with me for a couple of days?”

      Again, there was a small hesitation. “Of course,” he replied. “But I’ll need to go home and get some things.” He dropped his arms to his sides and reluctantly she stepped away from him.

      “I’m sorry to be a pain.” She released a deep sigh. “I’m hoping my memories will return in the next day or so and then I won’t be so anxious.”

      “It’s fine. I’ll just head to my house and pack up some clothes.”

      They walked back downstairs and it wasn’t until they reached the living room again that she realized Nick didn’t have his car.

      “I’ll need to drive you home,” she said.

      “No,” he said sharply. He smiled then, as if aware his tone had been curt. “In case you forgot, your car is now in the shop, and besides, what you need to do is rest. It won’t take me long to get to my place and get back here.” He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. Maybe you should try to nap while I’m gone. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

      “I am exhausted,” she admitted. She was definitely feeling the past night of too little sleep.

      “Then get upstairs in that nice, comfortable bed and get some rest.”

      “You’ll wake me when you get back?” she asked.

      “I promise. I’ll have to wake you because I don’t have a key.”

      She looked at him in surprise. “I’ve never given you a key?”

      “You told me you’d give me a key on the day we got married.”

      “Do I have a key to your house?” she asked.

      “You did. I gave you one, but you lost it a couple of weeks ago. We hadn’t gotten around to having another one made for you.” He inched toward the front door. “Stop overthinking things and get some rest, Julie.” With those words, he walked out the front door.

      Immediately she felt bereft and vulnerable. For the next few minutes she wandered around the living room, touching familiar items in an effort to calm the anxiety and the crazy simmer of fear that coursed through her.

      Surely these emotions were normal for somebody suffering from amnesia. Her mind wasn’t her own right now. She was just grateful Nick had agreed to stay with her for the next few days. There had been comfort in his arms. That must speak to the strength of their relationship...of their love for each other.

      How she wished she could remember the excitement of dating him and the joy of falling in love with him. She did remember being ready for love, wanting to get married and start a family of her own. It didn’t seem fair that she remembered wanting these things but had no memory of actually finding love with the very hot physical education teacher.

      She’d sensed his hesitation to touch her, to hold her, and she understood it. He was in as awkward a position as she was. He knew she didn’t remember him, that he was basically a stranger to her. She was certain he didn’t know exactly how to treat her.

      What he didn’t understand was that she took it on complete faith that he was her soul mate, otherwise she wouldn’t have been working on wedding plans with him. She wouldn’t be his fiancée without first knowing with utter certainty that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Before her accident, she’d obviously decided he was that man.

      A clenched hand of anxiety continued to grip both her heart and her brain. It had been there when she’d realized she had no memories of so much time and it hadn’t eased up since.

      If she thought it might help to beat her fists against her skull, she’d do it. Hopefully, the doctor was right and now that she was home her memory would return quickly.

      Sleep. She definitely needed to get some sleep and to stop thinking so much. Deciding to stretch out on the sofa instead of going all the way upstairs to her room, she was detoured by a flashing red light on the answering machine on one of the end tables.

      Three new messages awaited her. She punched the play button.

      “Hey,