His Forgotten Fiancée. Evelyn M. Hill

thing from unscrupulous.”

      “I might have changed from the man you remember.”

      “People don’t change,” she said. “Not in essentials.”

      “Far too trusting. I am amazed that you’ve made it this far without being hurt. Staying all alone in a place. Smiling at a man. The world is not always a kind and safe place.”

      She was not going to budge him from his opinion of himself, that was plain. She got to her feet. “The McKays should be back today. I’ll tidy up, and we’ll be ready to go if the doc thinks you’ll be up for it.”

      “Go? Go where?”

      “Back to the claim.” She had been reaching for his plate, but she stopped, straightening to look at him. “You can’t stay here with the McKays. There’s no room, with the children and all. You can stay on our claim while you rest up and figure out what to do next.”

      Taking a deep breath, he said, “I need to make something clear.”

      She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down. “That sounds very serious.”

      “I do not want to be in any way unkind, but I want you to understand my position. I appreciate you helping me out last night and giving me a place to sleep and a chance to get cleaned up. I am in your debt. But that doesn’t mean I feel obliged to marry you.”

      The words fell like stones into the quiet room. He stretched his hands out across the table toward her in a plea for understanding. “To me, the man who asked you to marry him and the man who is right here in front of you are two different people. I am a stranger even to myself. I’m in no position to get married.”

      Her chin came up. “If you want to break off our engagement, that is your right.”

      “I cannot renege on an agreement I don’t remember making.”

      “I suppose I can understand that.”

      Liza went back to clearing the table. She needed to do something with her hands. He was rejecting her all over again. And he sounded so reasonable about it, so calm. As if he had never really cared that much for her in the first place. The love that had once blazed between them stronger than anything she had known...not even an ember still flickered beneath the ashes.

      Maybe he felt this way as a result of his injuries, but it still hurt.

      A wall. She pictured building a wall, brick by brick, around her heart as a barricade. She just needed his help on the claim. No emotional entanglements. Strictly business.

      “I—my father and I—need help to get the harvest in. If you would do that, then you could pay off your debt, as you call it. I don’t think you owe me anything, but you’d be doing me a great favor if you did.”

      “I will consider it,” he said slowly. “I am in your debt, without question. So long as you do not consider us engaged to marry.”

      There was that flick of pain again, like a little knife stabbing at her heart. “As if the man I promised to marry were a different person from yourself.” No matter how much it hurt, she would not be weak. She would use the pain to build another layer in the wall around her heart.

      “From my perspective, he is.”

      Add another layer of bricks. “Except I told Granny Whitlow that you were my fiancé.”

      “I’ll deal with the rest of the world later. Let’s get things straight between the two of us first.”

      She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, either.

      Doc Graham arrived a little while later, his half-moon spectacles perched as usual at the tip of his nose, and his round face shining with perspiration, as if he’d been hurrying. Clearly, he had been primed with the latest gossip. His little blue eyes gleamed with curiosity as he escorted Matthew to the back room.

      When the doctor came back out some minutes later, he smiled at Liza. “Don’t look so worried. His injuries are quite superficial, apart from the cut on his head, and that should heal soon enough. Injuries can cause temporary amnesia—inability to remember. It’s not that uncommon.”

      Matthew had followed him out of the back room, shrugging on his coat. “Will my memories come back?”

      “The mind’s a tricky thing. Memory could come back in dribs and drabs, or all at once. Given a bit of time, the injury should heal.” He clapped Matthew on the shoulder cheerfully.

      Matthew hunched his shoulders. “So, I could do manual labor?”

      “Thinking of getting a job at the lumber mills in Portland, are you, until your memory comes back? I don’t see any reason why not. Far as I can see, the fainting last night was caused by lack of food—for several days, judging by the state of you. Before this morning, when was the last time you ate?”

      “I don’t remember,” Matthew said wryly.

      “Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, regular meals, light work for the next day or so. You should be fine.”

      “Thank you, Doctor.” Liza doled out some coins from her purse. She fought not to let her disappointment show. She had hoped the doctor could have given Matthew more help with regaining his memory. After she shut the door behind the doctor, she turned to face Matthew. “Have you made up your mind?”

      “Yes.” He looked grimly determined. “I will make a deal with you. You give me a place to stay while I try to get my memories back. Maybe you can help me to jolt my memory. In return, I’ll work to get in your harvest. Do we have a bargain?”

      He extended a hand. When she took it, he shook her hand with the brief, firm grip of a man sealing a business deal.

      Time was, he would have kissed my hand.

      “I accept,” Liza said.

       Chapter Two

      The McKays were due to return to the dry goods store sometime around noon, but half the town decided to show up earlier. Or so it seemed to Matthew as, one after another, he met the townsfolk. Doc Graham was better than a telegraph operator for spreading news. Matthew’s head ached trying to keep track of them all...

      And if one more person made a remark about his engagement with Liza, he was going to lose all patience.

      The dry goods store was far too small with this crowd pressing in on him. In reality, there were only a handful of well-intentioned townsfolk. But it felt like a crowd. Under normal circumstances, he would not have felt hemmed in, not had to fight down panic. It was the fundamental uncertainty of his life that made him feel so trapped. And these people kept asking him question after question.

      He still had that feeling of having fallen into deep water; he was in over his head and floundering. He desperately needed to find some solid ground to stand on. With no money and no memory, staying on the claim with Liza and her pa to help with the harvest was the only option that he could see. But these people were expecting more from him. They were going to be disappointed.

      Pretty as Liza was, he couldn’t imagine going through with an engagement in his current situation. He had no idea what had happened to him in the past year, since he and Liza had parted, and so he was in no position to make any long-term promises. For all he knew, he could already have a wife.

      He was not the man she had fallen in love with. He’d accept her help as a business arrangement, so long as she understood that that was as far as their relationship went. They would help each other to achieve their goals. Nothing romantic in the least. He needed to make this clear from the start, so that everyone knew where matters stood.

      A couple of women came up to him. He stood, offering his chair to the older of the two, Granny Whitlow. He wasn’t sure whom she was grandmother to; it seemed more a title of respect rather than an indication