Rocky Mountain Memories. Lois Richer

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