The Cowboy's Missing Memory Read online

  “I’m Lexie, his therapist.” She bit her lip, her mind completely blank on how to help the poor guy out.

  “So you’re here to do what exactly?” Clint pressed. “Rob us? But robbers usually don’t offer their names. Unless Ted isn’t really your name.”

  “Ted goes to our church,” Audrey announced, popping up from out of nowhere. “He’s here to, um—”

  “Feed the cat.” Lexie tried to help her out.

  “Yes.” Audrey smiled. “Thank you, Ted, but as you can see, we’re home now.”

  “I’m glad your son’s home, ma’am. I’ll just be on my way.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Clint cast a suspicious glare on Ted’s retreating back. “You’re allergic to cats.”

  Chapter Four

  Lexie’s face heated. She’d made it worse instead of helping. “There was a stray, right, Audrey?”

  “Yes,” Audrey rushed to say. “As long as it stays outside, it doesn’t bother me and I couldn’t bear to see the poor thing hungry.”

  “So if it’s outside, why did Ted have to come in the house to feed it?” Skepticism echoed in Clint’s tone.

  “Because I can’t keep the food outside, silly. Every varmint in the county would show up,” his mom explained. “Now, speaking of food, I better see what I can come up with for supper. Will you stay and eat with us, Lexie?”

  “Thanks for the invite, but I really need to get to my folks’ place for the night.”

  “Of course, tell them hello, and how awesome we think you are.”

  “We think you’re pretty awesome, too,” she said, then turned her glance toward Clint. He was watching her with his intense green eyes. Thoughts unreadable. Her face got hotter. “See you tomorrow, bright and early. Be ready to get to work.” With a wave goodbye to Audrey, she hurried out the door and to her car.

  Backing out with her possessions piled to the ceiling in the back seat was no small feat. Since her apartment had been furnished, thankfully all she had to move was clothing, photos, decor items and keepsakes. Once on the familiar highway, she allowed her mind to roam.

  Clint was a tough nut to crack. Would he ever let her in enough to help him? He’d been a bit more open with her at the hospital when they’d been alone. His dad had been the same. Stoic and invincible as long as his family was around. But alone in their therapy sessions, he’d let his guard down and his vulnerabilities had shown. Hopefully, Clint would be the same.

  Her parents’ house came into view, promptly turning her all misty-eyed. She’d wanted to move home for so long, and finally, it was happening. By the time she turned into the drive and parked, she couldn’t see a thing. She wondered if they were home from her best friend’s ranch, where they both worked.

  She swiped at her eyes. A tall, lean figure stood near the barn, looking her way. He adjusted his hat and sauntered in her direction. Daddy’s familiar, long stride put a lump in her throat. As he neared the house, Mama stepped out on the porch with a dish towel clutched in one hand. Her other hand went to her heart. Even though it had only been a few months since Christmas, when Lexie had last visited, her vision blurred even more as she climbed out of her car and hurried toward the porch.

  “Welcome home.” Mama dabbed tears with the dish towel, then drew her into a hug.

  Daddy engulfed them both. “So glad you’re home, pudding.” A mixture of sweat, Stetson cologne, hay, horse and a touch of saddle leather filled her senses. If you looked up “real cowboy” in the dictionary, you’d likely find a picture of her dad, Denny Parker—ranch foreman extraordinaire.

  “Me, too.”

  “You make the drive okay?” Daddy cleared his throat, the only indication of his emotion, and pulled away to open the screen door for them.

  “Just fine.”

  “I made chicken and dressing, your favorite.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Mama.” She caught a whiff of sage and other spices as she stepped inside. “But I’m so glad you did.”

  The porch door clapped shut behind Daddy. The old farmhouse had been remodeled and updated through the years. Except for the screen door. Because Mama liked the sound of it. Lexie did, too.

  “I’m so glad I don’t live in San Antonio anymore.” She closed her eyes, letting the peaceful small farm noises wash over her. The constant traffic and hustle of the city had never grown on her.

  From the time she’d gotten her degree and her job at the hospital, her goal had been to move home and get her own place. And with her temporary job with the Rawlins family, she’d be able to afford to rent or maybe even buy a house sooner than she’d expected.

  Now to tell Mama and Daddy about the month off she no longer had.

  “I hope you’re hungry.” Mama led the way to the kitchen, where the table was already set with sweet potatoes and broccoli cheese casserole accompanying the main dish.

  “Always, for your cooking. It looks like Thanksgiving.”

  “We’re thankful to have our girl home.” Daddy filled three glasses with ice, poured sweet tea and set them in their regular spots at one end of the long farmhouse table.

  “It looks and smells wonderful. But I hate that you went to so much trouble after cooking breakfast and lunch for a bunch of hungry hands at the ranch.”

  “Larae insisted I leave early today since you were coming.” Mama took her seat as Lexie and Daddy settled in theirs. “I don’t have many talents, so I enjoy sharing the one I have.”

  “That’s so not true.” The house was a testimony to Mama’s many talents. From the handmade curtain toppers and bedspreads Mama sewed in her spare time to the touches of cozy farm decor spread throughout the house. “I can’t wait to pick fabric for curtains once I get my own place.”

  “Look through my stash first,” Mama said with a laugh. “I’ve got yards and yards. Some I bought just because I liked it and I’ve even got some I bought with future grandchildren in mind.”

  “Way in the future.” Lexie rolled her eyes at the subtle hint.

  “Don’t you be in a hurry to move out,” Daddy said, scooping heaping helpings on his plate, then smaller portions for Lexie and Mama. “We just got you home.”

  With the food served, they clasped hands. “Dear Lord—” Daddy cleared his throat “—we do thank You for this food. For bringing our girl home. For safe travels and for the mountain of blessings You give us daily. In Jesus’s precious name, amen.”

  Mama squeezed her hand before turning loose. “I wish I could take some time off before your new job starts. But the ranch is really busy. Maybe you can come to work with me, be my sous-chef.”

  Lexie savored the crumbly, melt-in-your-mouth cornbread dressing. “About that, I sort of took a temporary job that starts tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t.” Mama sighed. “You’ve been burning your candle at both ends since you went off to college. If you don’t take a break, you’ll burn yourself out.”

  “I’m fine, Mama. And you’re one to talk! When’s the last time you took time off?”

  “She’s got you there, Stella. Like mother, like daughter.” Daddy chuckled. “What kind of job?”

  “Do y’all remember me working with Levi Rawlins?”

  “Sure do,” Daddy said, taking a swig of his tea. “He was a good neighbor. Moved to Medina after you went off to school. It was a crying shame when he got sick.”

  “But Lexie helped him.” Mama forked a slice of candied sweet potato. “I run into Audrey often and she never fails to mention how our girl made Levi’s last days more functional and enjoyable.”

  “Didn’t I hear her boy had a bull wreck recently?” Daddy frowned, obviously trying to pull up details. “Seems like somebody mentioned him on the prayer list Sunday.”

  Lexie nodded. “Audrey asked me to work with him at their ranch here in Medina. I couldn’t
say no.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” Mama murmured, patting her arm. “That’s good. Poor Audrey’s been through the wringer. She needs you. And there’s no sense in you rattling around here all day with nothing to do while we’re working. We’ll still have some time in the evenings, right? You won’t work ridiculous hours.”

  “I thought they needed some family time to get him settled tonight. I’m planning to work nine to five, but it depends on how he handles the frustration of his condition and how quickly he progresses.”

  “Our little Florence Nightingale to the rescue,” Daddy said proudly. “That boy will be good as new before you know it.”

  Lexie sure hoped so. Despite Clint’s calm demeanor with his family, she’d seen the fear in his eyes when they’d been alone in his hospital room. The same fear she’d seen in his dad’s gaze almost three years before.

  * * *

  Still in the fifties, but the sun was supposed to come out and warm things up by noon. Before Lexie could press the Rawlinses’ bell, the door opened.

  Carly greeted her with a frown, then ushered her inside. “Mom’s in the shower. But beware. He’s a bear this morning.”

  “Is it normal for him to be grumpy?” Or was he exhibiting personality changes?

  “When things aren’t going his way, he gets really frustrated. It started with supper last night. He had a hard time feeding himself, but he wouldn’t let me or Mom help. He retreated to his room to eat by himself and it went downhill from there.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “We calmed him down, then looked at photo albums from the last two years, like Dr. Arnett recommended.”

  “Good.”

  “But his mood isn’t any better this morning, and he insisted on eating breakfast alone in the therapy room.”

  “There you are.” Clint rolled up behind Carly. “Let’s get this party started.” His grim tone didn’t match his words.

  “Lead the way.”

  He painstakingly backed his chair up with awkward hands that obviously didn’t quite do what his brain told them to.

  “Here, let me help.” Carly rolled him toward the bedroom Ted had converted into a therapy room. Cleared of furniture, the room was graced only by a set of parallel bars, a triangular-shaped trapeze support, a treadmill and a balance ball, along with a small table and chairs. But family pictures lined the taupe walls, keeping it from being too austere. A thoughtful touch to encourage Clint. Audrey’s doing or had the room always held the collection?

  “I can do it,” Clint growled.

  “I know you can, but it won’t kill you to let me help,” Carly huffed.

  Scrambled eggs dotted the floor along with link sausages scattered about.

  “Just a little accident.” Clint’s jaw tensed. The dark stubble did nothing to hide the chiseled lines of his handsome face.

  “No worries. I’ll get a dustpan and bring a new plate,” Carly told him before scurrying out of the room.

  “I ate enough. I’m fine.”

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Lexie waggled her eyebrows at him, trying to lighten things up. “Especially if you plan to work hard. And I will put you through your paces.”

  “Bring it.” The intensity in his eyes turned steely.

  “All right, hotshot, take it easy. We’ll see what you got. As soon as you get some food in your stomach.”

  Carly returned with a fresh plate.

  “I got this.” Lexie took it and the broom from her. “Thanks. Can you shut the door behind you?”

  Carly looked from her to Clint. “I gotta get to work anyway. Aye, aye, Sarge.” She saluted, clicked her heels and left them alone.

  Lexie set the plate on the bistro-style table she’d asked Ted to set up in the room. “Eat up while I tidy up a bit.”

  “I can’t.” Clint spewed out a sigh. “That’s how the first plate’s contents ended up in the floor. My hands work worse than a toddler’s.”

  “Where did you try to eat? At the table?”

  “No.”

  “Try the table. That way you won’t have to balance your plate and your fork.”

  “Makes sense.” He hesitated. “Want to give me a hand? It’ll take me three days to get over there.”

  “You can do it. Chop-chop.” She lightly clapped her hands.

  He rolled his eyes and slowly turned his chair toward the table while she swept up the eggs and sausage, then got a wet washcloth and towel from the adjoining bathroom to wipe up the greasy spots on the hardwood floor.

  By the time she finished her cleanup, he’d made it to the table and was pushing a bite of egg across his plate.

  “Here.” She sat beside him, repositioned the fork in his fingers with tines up. “Now concentrate.”

  He stabbed at the egg, but missed by a good inch. “You can take over for me anytime. It bugs the life out of me when Mom or Carly try to do things for me. But I guess I figure you’ve seen folks in worse shape than me.”

  “Try again. If I do things for you, you’ll never get to where you can do it yourself.”

  “This is so embarrassing.” He managed to stab the egg but missed his mouth by an inch. Red splotches bathed his face.

  “You can do it.”

  He dragged the egg across his cheek, found his mouth.

  “Open sesame.”

  “You’re enjoying this.” He popped the bite in and chewed.

  “Yes, when you make progress, I enjoy it.” Why was it always so hard for the self-sufficient male to admit weakness? “Let’s get some things straight,” she told him firmly. “Your brain is struggling to tell your fingers what to do. You’re recovering from a head injury. There’s no reason to be embarrassed about what you can and can’t do. Your family understands and they love and support you. No one cares if you miss your mouth, spill anything or make a mess.”

  “I know.” He’d managed to stab a sausage link and hit his cheek again. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep meals in here until I get better at it.” He slid the sausage to his mouth, then bit the end of it off.

  “That’s why I put the table in here.”

  “Thanks.” He eyed her scrubs, black dotted with cartoon cats. “So you’re a cat person?”

  “Yes. And thoroughly enjoying being able to wear whatever scrubs I want. A lot of hospitals and clinics choose a certain solid color for each profession. OTs wore burgundy. Period. I hate wearing the same thing every day. I feel like people think I never do laundry.”

  “You smell too good for them to think that.”

  Her gaze met his. “Thanks.” Cheeks warming, she swallowed the knot his compliment put in her throat.

  “Do you have a cat?”

  “No, my apartment didn’t allow pets. But I’m hoping to find a pet-friendly rental house here.”

  “You hungry?”

  “No. My mom made a big breakfast this morning.”

  “Your folks are great. Your mom sent lots of meals and your dad helped with keeping the yard mowed when Dad was sick.” His tone tightened at the mention of his dad, as if he needed to rein in his emotions. “I can’t believe we never met, with them living right down the road and going to the same church.”

  “I lived and worked in San Antonio for the last eight and a half years. And didn’t get to come home for visits as much as I would’ve liked. I’ve mostly been home for holidays and birthdays.”

  “I still can’t believe it’s been two and a half years since Dad...” His eyes dimmed. “Even though Mom and Carly showed me photo albums. Pictures spanning two years I don’t remember. How can I not remember my own niece?”

  “The brain is a magnificent mystery.”

  “I need to remember,” he muttered, raking a bite of egg off his plate.

  “Don’t worry. O
r stress about it. The more relaxed you are, the more progress we’ll make.” She stood, strode over to the closet. “Now finish eating, while I get our therapy tools ready. And concentrate on what you’re doing.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re bossy?” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “I’ve learned I have to be, when dealing with the fully grown, stubborn male species.” She pulled the balance ball and a large mat out to the center of the room. Then set a deck of cards, a board game and a jigsaw puzzle on the table. “But I prefer the term take-charge.”

  “What’s all that?”

  “Therapy.”

  “I’m supposed to play games?” Skepticism dripped from his words.

  “They each require small motor skills and reasoning, which is what we need to retrain your brain to do.”

  “But I thought I’d walk parallel bars or the treadmill.”

  “You don’t need me for the parallel bars,” she informed him. “The ball will help your balance and we’ll try the treadmill later. Baby steps and patience will get you where you want to be. Trust me.”

  “I saw what you did for my dad, so that I can do.” He pushed his plate away. “Between what I managed to eat from the first plate, plus this one, I’m about to pop.”

  Lexie scanned his plate. One sausage and a dab of egg left. Nothing on the table. Her gaze narrowed on him. “You cleaned up while I wasn’t looking, didn’t you?”

  Clint ducked his head. “Yes, but I did better. This was all that ended up on the table.”

  “What do you think was the difference in the first plate and the second plate?”

  Concentration formed creases across his forehead. He was really quite handsome. And probably normally pretty easygoing and kind, like his parents. How had he stayed single? She shook the thought away. He was a patient and she had no business thinking about his looks or personality traits.

  “My plate was on the table. You told me I could do it. To stay relaxed and focus. So I did.”

  “Excellent. We’ve made progress here already. You spilled less, you did what I told you to, and you reasoned out why it worked.”