Accidental Family. Joan Elliott Pickart

the slender link to his identity because she had known him before he lost his memory and she was taking care of his daughter.

      That was the reason he got all hot and bothered when he saw Patty Clark. He was hanging tight to that explanation because the alternative was to admit he was having an adolescent testosterone attack, which wasn’t very flattering.

      “Sit down,” David said, gesturing toward the chair next to the bed. He pressed the button on the remote control and turned off the television. “How are you? How’s Sarah Ann? My daughter. Daughter. How can a man have a three-year-old daughter and not even know what she looks like?”

      “Don’t upset yourself, David,” Patty said, sitting down in the chair. “The fact that you have amnesia is not your fault.” She paused. “Dr. Hill was asking me earlier today what I knew about you while you were listening so I’m assuming it’s all right to tell you what I’ve discovered about you. You know, without breaking any rules regarding what is or isn’t said to someone whose memory is temporarily gone.”

      “It had better be a temporary condition,” David said, frowning.

      “I’m sure it is. I brought you a picture of Sarah Ann. Here.”

      David hesitated, then with a visibly shaking hand he took the piece of glossy computer paper from Patty and stared at the image of the smiling little girl.

      “Oh, look at her,” he said, awe ringing in his voice. “She’s beautiful.”

      Patty smiled. “Yes, she is. She has your coloring. See? Black hair, your blue eyes. She’s very intelligent, full of energy and chatters like a magpie when the mood strikes. She’s small-boned, delicate, but that doesn’t keep her from wanting to play whatever the other kids are into. You can be very proud of her, David. She’s a wonderful little girl.”

      “But…but I don’t recognize her,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment, then looking at the photograph again. “Damn it, I know she’s my daughter only because you’re telling me she is.”

      “Give it time,” Patty said gently. “Oh, these are cards that Sarah Ann and Tucker drew for you after I told them you had boo-boos.”

      David smiled slightly as he examined the pictures drawn with crayon on bright construction paper.

      “Thank you,” he said. “Tell Sarah Ann and Tucker I really liked these, okay? I appreciate your coming all the way back over here tonight to bring me these things.”

      “No problem. My mother came to the house and is doing her grandmother thing with all three of the children.” Patty drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “David, there is something I have to tell you.”

      “What is it?”

      “Sarah Ann told Tucker that her mother—what I mean is… Oh, David, I’m so sorry but your wife is dead. Sarah Ann said that her mother is in heaven and she doesn’t remember seeing her before she went there. But she also said it was all right because she had her daddy.”

      “My wife… Sarah Ann’s mother is dead?”

      “Yes. I’m sorry.”

      David looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, then met Patty’s gaze again.

      “Why aren’t I registering any emotions about that? God, I hate this. I’m an empty shell. I look at a picture of my daughter and think ‘cute kid, but I’ve never seen her before.’ My wife is dead, for God’s sake, and I have no reaction beyond ‘oh, well.’”

      “David, stop beating yourself up,” Patty said, leaning toward him. “You must remember that your lack of memory is not your doing.”

      “Yeah,” he said, dragging a restless hand through his hair. He narrowed his eyes. “Sarah Ann said she doesn’t remember seeing her mother? Wouldn’t I have given my daughter a picture of her mother?”

      “There were no framed photographs in Sarah Ann’s bedroom at your house,” Patty said. “I didn’t think anything of it until now. It does seem strange that you wouldn’t keep her image where Sarah Ann could see it, feel connected to it, to her mother. Sarah Ann isn’t upset by that. Her emphasis is on you.”

      “It still doesn’t make sense,” David said, his voice rising. “It’s as though I’m trying to get Sarah Ann to forget her mother even existed. What does that say about me?”

      “That you don’t have all the facts yet,” Patty said. “Don’t stand in judgment of yourself until you know why you seem to be distancing Sarah Ann from the memory of her mother. As an attorney you should gather all the data before reaching a conclusion.”

      “An attorney? I’m a lawyer?” David said, raising his eyebrows.

      “Yep. ‘A turny,’ to quote your daughter. Oh, and you lived in San Francisco before you moved to your new house here in Ventura.”

      “Well, thank you, NYPD Blue,” he said, smiling slightly.

      “I’m Columbo, sir.”

      “Oh, okay,” he said, chuckling. “You need a rumpled raincoat.” He paused and frowned. “This is nuts. I can remember television shows but I don’t recognize a picture of my own daughter?”

      “Dr. Hill said there are no rules about amnesia, remember?”

      “He wasn’t kidding,” he said, shaking his head.

      “Well, I’d best let you get some rest.”

      “No,” David said quickly. “I mean, do you have to leave so soon? This has been a helluva day stuck in this bed, trying to deal with all this and… Can you stay a little longer?”

      “Yes, if you want me to.”

      “Thank you.” David paused and frowned. “Well, we can’t share things about each other because I’m a blank page. Tell me about you, Patty Clark. Why are you a single mother of two little kids?”

      It’s none of your business, Mr. Montgomery, Patty thought with a flash of anger that dissipated as quickly as it had come. David was asking her a very fair question considering the fact she was poking around in her Columbo mode finding out everything she could about him.

      “It’s not a unique story,” she said. “My ex-husband fell in love with another woman and that was that.” A woman who could meet Peter’s needs as she had failed to do. “Peter… Peter hasn’t bothered to see Sophia and rarely takes advantage of his visitation times with Tucker anymore. Sarah Ann was so sweet about that when Tucker told her. She said he could say hello to you whenever he wanted to because she had her daddy. She’s a darling little girl.”

      “Why did you marry that jerk?” David said, frowning.

      “Well, for heaven’s sake,” Patty said, laughing, “what a silly question. We were in love, floating around on cloud nine like any other couple who plans to marry. The first years were terrific. I taught school, Peter was climbing the ladder in the insurance company where he worked, we bought a home, the whole nine yards.

      “We agreed that I’d be a stay-at-home mother and I quit teaching when Tucker was born. It’s heartbreaking for me to realize that I’ll need to go back to teaching second semester and leave my children with caregivers but…

      “David, this is not interesting. It’s just another sad tale of a marriage that didn’t make it. I usually don’t pour out my woes like this. I’m living in the present now and looking to the future. There’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on what happened between me and Peter, except that I did learn something important about myself.”

      “Like what?”

      “Enough of this. I’m changing the subject. Oh, Sarah Ann did have a favorite toy that she brought back to my house from yours. It’s a worse-for-wear teddy bear that—”

      “Patches,” David said, then sat bolt upward. He sank back against the