Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"I love the red berries, don't you?" Tara said as she hung a large bunch of holly from the dresser, glancing back at John, who was looking up at her with an anxious expression on his face.

"I do, but I don't like seeing you balance up there. If you fall…" he said, and Tara reached across to hang a second bunch at the other end of the dresser, balancing on the edge as she did so.

"Oh, I'm perfectly all right," she said, climbing down and standing back to survey her handiwork.

They had spent the afternoon decorating the parlor for Christmas, having brought in armfuls of holly and ivy cut from the woodland for them by a friend of Thomas Fenton. The house was looking very festive, decorated with greenery and a nativity scene carved by Tara's father, the figures arranged next to the stove on a rug with straw for the stable.

Maisy had already knocked the figures over several times with her tail, and Tara had scolded her, causing her to retreat sulkily to the windowsill. It had been a delightful afternoon, and Tara was now looking forward to the dance, and spending the evening with John.

"Sorry… I know you're used to doing things on your own. I just feel helpless, that's all. I should be doing something," John said, shaking his head.

Tara smiled at him, slipping her hand into his and squeezing it. "You're a terrible patient, John Smith. I've never known anyone so impatient. You've got to give yourself time to get better. It won't happen overnight. Broken bones take time," she said. "And until then, you'll let me look after you, do you understand?"

He smiled back at her and nodded. "I suppose I am impatient. I just feel frustrated. Anyway, shouldn't we be getting ready for the barn dance?"

The clock on the dresser had just struck six o'clock, and the barn dance would begin at seven. They finished the last of the decorating and wrapped up warmly, for it had snowed again and there was a bitter chill in the air.

"It looks like the whole town's turning out tonight," Tara said as they made their way toward the Fenton Ranch.

It lay half a mile or so out of the town, along a track lined with tall trees, the moonlight illuminating the bare branches with their frost-covered boughs. It was dark, but a steady stream of bobbing lamps lit the way as Tara and John followed the procession of people making their way to the ranch. Gina would be there, and Tara was eager to clear the air with her.

"And you're sure you don't mind being here with me instead of Kyle?" John said.

Tara was supporting him on a single crutch, for he had told her he was determined to walk unaided by the new year and wanted to begin practicing now. She had a lamp in her other hand, and she paused, raising it and turning to him.

"It's you I want to be here with, John. Kyle… isn't here, and I don't know if he's even coming back. Let's just enjoy the evening together, shall we?"

Tara knew he was being chivalrous, but there was no doubt in her mind as to her feelings for him, even as she held back from declaring them. She wanted to be with him, yet she remained hesitant given the possibility of his own past returning at any moment. There was every chance the dance might bring back a memory, or even an encounter with someone he knew. If John remembered he was married, or in love, everything would change…

"That's quite a barn, isn't it?" John said as they entered the gates of the ranch, where the doors of the largest barn stood open and lamplight guided the way inside.

A group of musicians was playing, and to one side, trestle tables groaned under the weight of a magnificent spread of food. It seemed as though the whole town had turned out, and Tara now spotted Doctor Reardon and his wife talking to Katie, Peter, and Marilyn. Heads turned as Tara and John entered the barn arm in arm—it was a necessity, given John's broken leg, and yet Tara knew just how it would look.

"I knew they'd all be looking at us," Tara whispered, smiling and nodding to those they passed.

The mayor was there, talking to Thomas and Tiffany, all of whom smiled and nodded at Tara and John as they passed.

"Mr. Smith, I must talk to you in a moment," the mayor called out.

Tara didn't like being the center of attention, but she knew John's condition was the talk of the town, and that her own mail-order groom had caused quite the stir, too.

They'll all be wondering where Kyle is, Tara thought, for it was just what she was wondering, too.

It had been a week since he had left for Helena, and Tara had heard nothing from him since the morning they had parted ways. She was beginning to suspect he had returned to Chicago and that she would not be seeing him again. It was all very strange, though Tara could not help but feel a certain sense of relief if, indeed, it was the case that Kyle was not going to return.

"Tara? Over here," a voice to one side said, and Tara turned to find Gina standing at one end of the trestle tables.

Now was the moment Tara had been waiting for, and with John having been engaged in conversation by the mayor and Thomas Fenton, Tara went over to Gina, intent on making amends.

"I just wanted to say… you were right," Tara said, and Gina smiled.

"I wish I hadn't been. But when I came to call on you the other day, I did wonder. I heard he'd left town" Gina said, holding out her arms to Tara, who embraced her.

"I'm sorry, Gina. It was wrong of me to argue like I did. I just wanted it to work, but it hasn't," Tara said.

Gina slipped both her hands into Tara's and squeezed them. "But you weren't to know that, were you? You fell for him, but it seems he wasn't the man you thought he was. Have you heard anything from him since he left?" Tara shook her head. "Nothing at all, no. He said he was going to Helena, but I haven't heard from him since. It's like he's just disappeared."

Gina looked at her sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Tara. It's awful for you."

Tara glanced over to where John was talking to the mayor and Gina's brother, shaking her head and blushing.

"Well… it's not so bad, is it?" she replied.

Gina raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Oh, I see… I did wonder. He certainly seemed very at home the other day when I called. Are the two of you… have you talked about it?" she asked.

Tara sighed. It was a strange situation. For all intents and purposes, they appeared every bit the courting couple, and yet two things held them back: firstly, Kyle, and secondly, the possibility of John's own memories. If he was married, it would be a dreadful thing to pursue a romance when an innocent party was anxiously awaiting his return, and if Kyle should return, too, their problems would only be magnified further.

"Not yet, no. I don't think I can. Oh… it's all so confusing, Gina. I didn't mean to…" she said, but Gina finished her sentence for her.

"Fall in love with two men at once?" she said.

"I don't think I did fall in love with Kyle. I fell in love with the idea of Kyle, but not with Kyle himself. I know that sounds strange, but you were right about it all, I admit it," Tara replied.

"I don't care about being right, Tara. I care about you being happy. That's what matters the most," Gina replied, squeezing Tara's hands again.

Tara was grateful for her kindness—and her friendship. "Thank you."

"But I saw the way you looked at John just now. There's a sparkle in your eye, Tara. I can tell you're in love with him," she said.

These words caused Tara's cheeks to heat even more. But Gina was right. She had fallen in love with John. It was a feeling that had come over her unexpectedly, and she had been surprised by the intensity of her growing affections for the man who had entered her life under such unusual circumstances.

"But what can we do, Gina? He could be married with children for all I know—for all he knows. I know what I want, but I'm not sure I can have it. Besides, I don't know if he feels the same way about me," Tara replied.

Gina raised her eyebrows. "I think it's obvious how he feels about you. He's in love with you, too. I saw it in his eyes the other day when I called and we talked about you. But he'll be holding back, too. He'll think it's Kyle you're in love with, and that you're merely waiting for his return," she said.

Tara knew her best friend was right, but before she could reply, the mayor called the gathering to order.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's wonderful to be here once again for our annual barn dance," he said, standing on an upturned crate, for he was a short man who even now was only barely visible above the heads of the packed barn. "I want to thank the Fenton family for their generous invitation, and all of you for coming. But before the dancing begins, the sheriff has an announcement to make."

The mayor stepped down from the crate, and Thomas took his place.

"Thank you, Mr. Mayor. I'll keep this brief, but I'd like to share some good news with you all, and a cause for celebration. Tiffany and I are expecting our first child in the new year," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he spoke.

Sheriff Fenton was held in high regard in the town, and the barn erupted into cheers and applause. Tara turned to Gina with a look of delight, clapping her hands together as she did so.

"Oh, Gina, that's wonderful news! You're going to be an aunt. Did they tell you before?" she asked, and Gina nodded.

"They told me yesterday, and you were the first person I wanted to tell. It's so exciting, isn't it? I'm so happy for them. They've longed for a baby for so long. It's the perfect Christmas gift," she replied.

The announcement brought much joy and excitement to the evening, and as the musicians took up their tune, the crowd danced a merry jig—if not a very formal one. Randy Lynn had now arrived, and Gina excused herself from Tara's company as the schoolteacher asked her to dance. Tara looked around for John and found him sitting at the far end of the barn, watching the dancing.

"Are you all right? Wasn't that a lovely announcement?" Tara said, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.

He smiled at her and nodded. "It was, yes. I'm very happy for them. The sheriff's a good man, by all accounts," he said. "I was just talking to Doctor Reardon. He says I should speak to Sheriff Fenton about making some wider enquiries about my past. Someone's got to know something. He said there was a chance I was going to Helena, and that perhaps I wasn't even meant to be here."

Tara felt suddenly sad. John was right. There was no reason why he should remain in Freemont if there was still the possibility of his remembering who he was and where he had come from. Perhaps his being in Freemont was just a coincidence, and he really had been on his way somewhere else. The thought of him leaving saddened her, even as she could not say so for fear of growing too attached.

"Well, yes, I suppose that's a possibility. You could speak to him this evening, or tomorrow. I'm sure he'll do whatever he can to help you," Tara replied.

She wondered if Doctor Reardon had intentionally sought to remind John he had a past, rather than see him settle too readily in Freemont and embrace an alternative future.

There were still so many unanswered questions, and if John simply abandoned the search for his past, it could spell disaster later on. What if someone was even now on their way west in search of him? Despite her own feelings, Tara knew she had to let him go, or at least be prepared to when the time came.

"I'm starting to wonder, though… what if I don't like what I find? I'm fairly certain I was a cowboy. Or worked with horses, at least. But when it comes to the rest… well, isn't there a danger I might not like what I find?" John said.

Tara hadn't thought about it like that before. She had been so intent on helping John remember as to give no thought to whether he would like what he remembered or not. It was a curious thing to think, even as she knew Doctor Reardon would not agree that forgetting was potentially worse than discovering.

"I suppose so. But you might not have any choice. If you remember, you remember. And if that's the case, you've got to act on it, haven't you? You can't just pretend like it didn't happen. Besides, you won't know if it's good or bad until you do," she said. "What if you realized you were rich? You'd want to know that, wouldn't you?"

John shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really know what I want. Part of me wants to remember, and part of me doesn't," he replied.

The musicians were tuning up their instruments for the next dance and, glancing over at the throng, Tara saw Gina in Randy's arms. They looked so happy together, and she felt a sudden surge of guilt at having doubted the affection between them.

The look on Randy's face mirrored that on John's face, too. It was a look of love, but while Gina could respond to that look, Tara felt she could not, even as she longed to. But heart and head were not always aligned, and as the crowd gathered for the next dance, Tara held out her hand to John, inviting him to stand.

"I know you've got to be careful. But we could dance together, couldn't we? Just at the side. I was hoping we could," she said, and John nodded.

"I'd like that, yes," he said, smiling as she helped him to his feet.

With his leg in a brace, John couldn't hope to dance as Randy was now doing—jigging up and down with Gina mimicking him—but Tara steadied his arm and, supported by his crutch, the two of them were able to stand together as the music played, making a pretence of dancing together. Tara knew what others would say, and how what they were doing would be perceived, but she no longer cared for the opinions of others.

Her gaze was fixed on John, and his on her. As they danced, it felt as though time stood still, and lost in the moment, Tara could only feel an ever-growing affection for the stranger who had become a friend. It was the same for every romance—how that one person you never knew could eventually become your world.

"This is lovely," Tara whispered, trying not to think about the future, but only the moment.

But as they danced, she couldn't help but remember all that was at stake. Her heart was drawn to John, even as her reason pushed him away.

***

John was enraptured by Tara—the kindness of her smile, the sweet way she had about her, the gentleness of her words. He had fallen in love with her, and to feel her arms around him, to know, in that moment, it was just the two of them, meant more to him than he could ever have imagined. And yet there was a bitterness, too, one he could not escape from.

He was beginning to fear the past—to fear the present he was creating would soon be torn away from him. He was remembering things, and yet now he felt a sense of regret at the thought of losing those things he had discovered in the here and now. If was he was to remember a past that meant Tara would be taken away from him, then it was a past he would rather forget.

"I've got a surprise for you," John said as the music ended.

Tara had appeared lost in thought during their dance, but now she looked at him curiously, smiling as he smiled back at her.

"A surprise? What sort of surprise?" she asked.

"Oh, it'll have to wait until Christmas Day," he replied.

The idea had come to him a few days previously when he was feeding Stanley. On the wall of the stable hung all manner of tools, and John had had the inkling he knew how to use them. He had taken a piece of wood, using the tools to carve a spoon—effortlessly, it had seemed—and it was then the thought of making something for Tara had dawned on him.

He had wanted to thank her for everything she had done for him, and he had begun work on a sled, building it one of the outbuildings Tara never went into. He planned to make it so Stanley could pull her through the snow, just like a scene on one of the Christmas cards he had seen for sale in the mercantile.

"You're being a tease now. What a thing to say! I'll never be able to sleep now, wondering what it is," Tara exclaimed.

John smiled, holding her gaze, as he thought again just how beautiful she was. He could have stared into her eyes for an eternity, but as he clasped her hand in his, a sudden shadow came over her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, fearing she was about to tell him a Christmas gift was not a good idea.

"Well… it's just… I shouldn't say this, but… you're right about your memory. If you remember who you are, you'll leave," she said, and John was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes.

"Not necessarily, no. That's just the thing, I don't know what I'll remember," John replied.

There was, of course, every chance of there being something in his past that could drive them apart. But Tara had said it herself—it was inevitable he would eventually remember. In his mind, it felt to John as though a fog was clearing, though the veil still hung between the present and the past. Little by little, he was beginning to remember, and he felt certain he would eventually know who he was.

"I know, and it's selfish of me to say differently. But these past few days have been so… wonderful, I just don't want them to end. I'm sorry, John," she said. She turned on her heels, pulling away from him, and hurried out of the barn into the yard.

A few people glanced after her, and John grimaced as he tried to hobble behind. It was the first time he had known for certain Tara had feelings for him, even as it was clear those feelings were confused. Was she holding back because out of fear of those memories returning, or was it something more to do with the fact of her own circumstances and her confusion about Kyle?

"Are you leaving so soon?" Gina asked as John shuffled toward the barn door.

"It's Tara. I think she's upset about something," John replied, and Gina sighed.

"I think she's confused. I don't mean that in a patronizing way, but she's feeling torn," she said.

John furrowed his brow. He didn't like to assume anything about Tara's feelings, and yet it would be na?ve to suggest they didn't have something to do with him.

"Over Kyle?" John said, and Gina nodded.

"And you," she replied.

John sighed. He wanted to promise Tara everything, and yet he knew she was right. Eventually, he would remember, and if what he remembered tore them apart, the pain would be far worse than the realization now.

Outside, he found her leaning on a fence, looking up at the towering mountains above. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and the moon cast a silvery light across the snow. As he hobbled toward her, she turned to him with a weak smile on her face.

"John, I know what you're going to say, but it seems better for us to just take things a day at time. Let's just enjoy the time we've got together," she said. "I don't know if Kyle's coming back, and I don't know if what you'll remember is good or bad. But right now, can't we just enjoy what we have?"

John nodded. He didn't know if he was a betting man. A reasonable man, or the sort of man to throw caution to the wind. But he did know he felt happy, and happiness was surely something to hold onto. He reached out his hand to her and smiled, not wanting to think about the future, but only about the moment they now shared.

"I think that's a good idea. What'll be will be," he said, and Tara nodded.

For a few moments, the two of them stood in silence, looking out across the snowy landscape, illuminated in the moonlight. Whatever happened—whatever he remembered—John knew he would never forget that moment, even as he knew, too, it could not last forever.

With the coming of spring, the landscape would change, and with that change would come a new view to gaze upon. It would be the same for John, too—the passage of time giving rise to a new view, that of the past coupled with the present. For now, he was content to share Tara's company, knowing he would never forget the woman who had made possible the few memories he had, and helped create so many more.

***

"Did you hear Gina at the end of the dance last night? She's planning a new fundraising drive for the new year. She wants to save the school," Tara said, as she and John sat by the stove the next afternoon.

Tara had worked an early shift at the clinic and had hurried home to see John, who she had found carving a spoon in front of the stove. It was a beautiful design, very thin with a smooth bowl and knotted decorations along the handle. He had told her he was making it for her, though of her other surprise he would say nothing, only that he hoped to have it ready for Christmas Day.

"She's got a heart of gold," John said.

"Oh, but she's ruthless about it, too. She could get money out of a rock," Tara said. "Last year, we needed some supplies for the clinic. I mentioned it to Gina, and within a week, she'd raised the money, and a surplus, too. Doctor Reardon was certainly pleased, I can tell you," she said, shaking her head and laughing.

Tara was glad to have made up with Gina. It had not been a nice feeling to argue with her best friend, and now they were on good terms again. She was glad, too, to have confided in her over Kyle and John. The previous night, the two of them had shared something special, but Tara was adamant she wouldn't allow her feelings to get the better of her.

John would always hold a special place in her heart, and she knew she would hold the same in his. But as for what the future held, that remained an open question, just as John's past did, too. For now, Tara was content to enjoy the moment and share what time they had together in the run-up to Christmas.

"I'm sure he was. And she's certainly had success with the food drive, too. I thanked her for the money I was given," John said.

"You deserved it. That's what it's for—to help those in need," she replied. "Well, I suppose we should think about having something to eat. What would you like?"

To her surprise—for he always had a hearty appetite—he shook his head.

"Not just yet. It's nice just sitting in front of the stove, isn't it?" he said.

It was nice sitting by the stove. The parlor was decorated and looking its Christmas best, and with the snow falling outside and a good pile of wood next to the stove, they were all set for a pleasant afternoon inside. Maisy was curled up at John's feet, and she, too, seemed to agree there was nothing better to do than to do very little.

"It's lovely, yes. I tell you what, why don't I read for us?" Tara said.

She loved to read, but recently she had been too busy to do anything more than pick up the occasional volume and read a few pages. But the bookcase in the corner of the parlor was packed full of books, all of them waiting to be read, and Tara rose to her feet, crossed to the bookcase, and pulled out the first volume she came to.

" The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. This one's nice. Shall I read it to us?" she asked.

"I don't think anyone's ever read to me," John replied as Tara settled back down in her chair by the stove.

"Then there's a first time for everything, isn't there," she said and, opening the first page, began to read.

When Tara looked up after the first few chapters, she found John's eyes were closed. Had he gone to sleep? She cleared her throat, and he opened his eyes and looked at her with a smile.

"I wasn't dozing, I promise. I was just enjoying the story, that's all," he said.

Tara was only too pleased to continue. She liked reading aloud—it reminded her of her childhood, when her mother and father would sit by her bed and her mother would read to them, just as Tara was doing now.

"It's a lovely story, isn't it?" she said, and John nodded.

"I think I've read it before, but I don't know. It's the same for everything—I remember some things and not others. It's strange. I suppose I just have to get used to it," he said.

"Shall I keep reading? Are you going to keep your eyes open?" Tara teased.

"I promise you, I'm not asleep. But I'd like it if you kept reading," he said.

Tara did so, and for the next few hours, as the snow fell outside and the two of them—and Maisy—sat in front of the stove, they were lost in the story of Tom Sawyer and his adventures. It was growing dark by the time Tara closed the book, promising to take up the following day where she had left off.

"Or perhaps I could read," John said.

"I'd like that, too. You could do the voices," Tara said, and John laughed.

"I don't know about that. I think you'd be better at that than I would," he replied.

They smiled at one another, and Tara's stomach rumbled. She was hungry and, rising to her feet, she set about making them something to eat. It was the simplest of scenes—the domesticity of two people sharing their lives together. And yet it was a simplicity Tara had never known before.

She and her father had gotten along well, but it was not the same as sharing one's life with another for whom one's feelings were growing ever stronger. Was this what married life was like? Tara could think of nothing she wanted more than the moment they now shared, and as they sat down to eat, she would gladly live it forever.

"How's the soup?" Tara asked, for John had been eating in silence, and it seemed like there was something on his mind.

"It's delicious, thank you. I… I'm sorry if I sound like I'm just repeating myself, but… well, if my memory doesn't come back… if I don't remember anything more about the past, what am I going to do?" he asked.

Tara put down her spoon and reached across the table to place her hand on his.

"Doctor Reardon thinks you'll remember. It's just a matter of time. And you have remembered things. You've remembered lots of things," she said. "It's only been a few weeks since the accident. Your leg's not even healed yet, so I wouldn't worry too much about your memory just yet."

John nodded, but Tara could tell the matter was still bothering him, as surely it would. She had tried to imagine what it would be like to lose her own memory, to not remember all those things she took for granted. It was a terrible thought, and one she could barely contemplate. The world for John must feel so small, and Tara was glad to be able to do something to help bring those memories back.

But part of her was, even now, reluctant for those same memories to return. She wanted to cling to him, even as she knew she would have to let him go if someone else had his heart. She had all but forgotten about Kyle, resigned to the thought he would not return, and upstairs in bed that night, Tara took out the letter he had sent her, reading of a different man, the man she had made her own without even having met him…

How I long for the day I can be with you… I think of you every moment… I want to leave this life behind and come to you now, nothing else seems to matter… I know we haven't met one another, and yet already I feel I know you better than anyone, she read, sighing and tossing the letters aside.

They were a fantasy—nothing more. But why had Kyle written such things to her when it had taken him only a few days to change his mind?

He wasn't really anything like the letters, was he? At first, I suppose he was, but then it all just changed .

Had it not been for John and his obvious affection, Tara might well have felt a sense of despondency at her rejection. It was obvious now there was something about her, or her situation, Kyle had come to dislike.

Had she been less confident in herself, Tara might have imagined she was not pretty enough, or intelligent enough, or that her conversation was not good enough. But in all these things, she had found John to be her saving grace. He gave her confidence—the way he looked at her, the way he smiled, the way he listened to her.

I wish it was John I had written to. He probably thinks the whole thing's as silly as Gina does, Tara thought, blowing out the candle at her bedside and pulling the blankets over her.

She sighed, closing her eyes and yawning. Again, she wondered how long it would be before Kyle returned—if he ever did—and what she would say to him now her feelings toward him had changed. Would he be angry at John's presence, or would he say just the same as her—that he had changed his mind and wanted to break off their arrangement?

You'll just have to wait and see. It was the present moment that mattered, not the future.

But as she fell asleep, her thoughts were on the future—and it was a future she hoped could include John, even as the odds seemed against it.