Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Goodness, look at the time," Tara said, opening her eyes as the clock on the dresser struck four o'clock.

She had dozed off in her chair by the stove and, opening her eyes, she found John had done the same. The animals would need feeding, and they would need to bring in wood from the store for the stove. Yawning, she stretched out her arms and rose to her feet, glancing enviously at Maisy, who was fast asleep on the rug in front of the stove.

"Did we fall asleep?" John asked, opening his eyes and looking up at her.

Tara smiled and nodded. "For nearly two hours," she said, for she could remember the clock striking two o'clock and nothing after that.

"We'd better do the rounds," John said, and Tara helped him to his feet, hauling him up with some effort as he groaned at the pain in his leg.

He had hold of her hands, and he fell forward into her arms, his balance unsteady. For a moment, she held him, the two of them laughing as John righted himself, his hands in hers as though they were at a dance.

"There we go. It's not so bad," he said, grinning as he looked at her.

"Do you want to go and rob the bank now or later?" she asked, rolling her eyes at the preposterous thought of John being capable of anything more than hobbling along on his good leg.

The sheriff's suggestion was ludicrous, and Tara had been upset at his suggestion of improper relations between them. John was the perfect gentleman, and Tara knew her own behavior was beyond reproach. But despite this moral certainty, there remained a question—the question of her growing feelings toward him.

Tara felt comfortable with John, and it was clear he felt comfortable with her, too. There was no effort involved in their friendship—in their growing relationship. It was as though they had always known one another, and that what they now shared was what was meant to be. But it was not, and the more Tara thought about it, the more she feared it would soon be taken away from them.

"Let's wait until later… we need to make sure Stanley's had his oats ready for the getaway," John replied.

Tara laughed and held her arm out for him, allowing him to steady himself as they crossed to the door. Dusk was already falling, and they took a lamp with them, bundling up against the cold before stepping outside.

Stanley was waiting patiently in his stall, and Tara fetched a bucket of oats for him, as John brushed the horses back.

"It's going to be another bitter night," she said, stomping her feet as her breath rose in plumes.

"We'd better give Stanley an extra blanket. I'll need one, too, I think," John said.

Tara nodded. But she had been thinking, and despite the sheriff's baseless accusation, she didn't think John needed to sleep in the outbuilding anymore.

"Why don't you sleep in the parlor? It'll be warmer there," she said.

There was no reason why John shouldn't sleep in the parlor that night—or every night. The sheriff could think what he liked. Tara knew the truth, and it was up to her who she welcomed into her home.

For a moment, John looked doubtful, but as a blast of chill air blew through the stable, rattling the door of Stanley's stall, he smiled.

"As long as you're sure."

"I'm absolutely sure, yes. There's no reason why you shouldn't," she replied, smiling back at him.

Stanley had finished his oats, and John patted the horse's back before the two of them pulled a blanket over the horse, placing another on top for warmth.

"There, now, Stanley. It's not quite the parlor with Maisy, but it'll do," John said.

"I hadn't thought about Maisy. She won't be happy with a usurper. I'll have to have her upstairs with me," Tara said, imagining the indignant look on the cat's face if she found John sleeping in her place by the stove.

"I'm sure she's very territorial," John replied.

"She'll get over it. Besides, she's got to learn to share me, hasn't she?"

Their eyes met in a gaze of understanding. Things were changing between them—Tara could feel it. She'd held back at first, confused as to where her true feelings lay. But the more time she and John spent together, the more certain Tara felt of her affections toward him. She was falling in love with him. He was as he appeared. He wasn't trying to be something he was not—the very opposite, in fact—and it was this vulnerability so found attractive in him.

"Tara, I… all this… you and I… I don't know what's going to happen to me or where I'll end up. But you'll always have a special place in my heart," John said.

Tara caught her breath, holding his gaze as he reached out and took her hand in his.

"We don't need to think too much… about the future, I mean. I'm just glad you're here," she replied, feeling a well of emotion rising up inside her when he leaned forward, their lips almost touching.

But even now, something pulled her back—not for her own sake, but for his. He could be making a terrible mistake, and it wasn't one Tara wanted him to make. Until he knew for certain where he had come from and what he had left behind, there could be nothing more between them than this—whatever this was becoming.

"Tara… I…" he began, but Tara shook her head.

"No, John… please. Let's not make things harder for ourselves. We can't… I know we want to, but we can't. It's not right. Not when you can't remember."

It was painful to hold back, their hands still clasped together. Under different circumstances, this would have been a magical moment—their first kiss, without care or thought. But there was so much that held them back, and John nodded, looking suddenly embarrassed, as though he felt he had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry," he said as they parted hands.

"You don't have to be. There's nothing to be sorry about. Really, there isn't. I just don't want you to suddenly realize something that changes things between us," she said.

"You're right. I was being foolish. It's all so confusing, isn't it? I should've stopped myself. Please, forgive me," he said.

Tara smiled at him. "There's nothing to forgive. The fact you're even sorry about it tells me everything I need to know about you. But it also makes me think you've probably got some wonderful woman waiting for you at home, and she deserves to have you back—however long that takes," Tara said.

She knew she was sacrificing her own happiness for a possibility. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to give in to her own feelings, and to allow what had been about to happen to happen. She thought now of how it might've felt to feel his lips against hers, his arms around her, and comfort and safety of his embrace. But such thoughts had to remain only thoughts, and as Tara stepped back, she knew she had done the right thing for both their sakes.

"You're right. I wasn't thinking properly. I was… too caught up in my own feelings. I should've thought of you, not myself," he said.

"You were thinking of us both," she said, smiling at him as she beckoned him to follow her. "Come on, let's see to the other animals, then go back inside. I'll make us some cocoa."

But as she turned toward the stable door, Tara was blinded by the light of a lamp. Raising her hand, she let out a cry of surprise at the sight before her.

"What's going on?" Kyle demanded.

He was standing in the doorway of the stable, framed in the glow of the lamp, outlined in the darkness behind him. He had his hand on his pistol and was staring at them with an angry look on his face.

"Kyle… I… I didn't think you were coming back," Tara exclaimed, recovering herself sufficiently from the shock to realize he would even now be jumping to the same conclusions as the sheriff.

"So I see. Who's this?" he asked, holding up the lamp in John's direction.

John was standing next to Tara, supported on his crutch. But now he drew himself up, facing Kyle defiantly.

"I'm John Smith, and you must be Kyle Patrick," he said.

"John Smith? The patient from the clinic? What's he doing here?" Kyle demanded, narrowing his eyes as he spoke.

"I invited him here. He needed somewhere to go when he was discharged from the clinic. He's been helping me with the animals," Tara said.

Kyle's return was such a shock. She had come to believe she wouldn't see him again—that he had decided to return to Chicago, and that things between them were over. Seeing him standing in front of her was a moment of realization—the realization she didn't want what she had thought she wanted. Kyle was not the man for her, and to compare him with John was to see two entirely different men, and to know which of those men she would choose, if circumstances were different.

"Is that so…" Kyle said.

"It's true. I had nowhere to go. Tara was kind enough to invite me to stay here for a while. It's just until I get my memory back, that's all," John said.

"It's for as long as you need," Tara said, for she was not about to allow Kyle to dictate to her who she could and could not have to stay in her own home.

He was her guest too, and yet he was treating the homestead as his own.

"I want to talk to you, Tara," Kyle said, beckoning her outside. "Alone."

Tara glanced back at John, who looked worried. But, taking a deep breath, she followed Kyle out into the yard, knowing she had no choice but to hear what he had to say. A cold wind was blowing, and she had to pull her shawl tightly around her against the chill.

"Where have you been?" Tara asked.

"In Helena, like I told you. And now I come back and find you cozying up to this stranger? He can't even remember who he is. You could be inviting anyone in," he hissed.

"I'm a nurse, Kyle. I've got a responsibility to my patients. He needed somewhere to go, and I needed help. There's no cozying up. I won't have that said," Tara replied, for he was speaking in just the same way as the sheriff had done.

Tara resented such accusations, and she resented Kyle for making assumptions about himself and his place in the situation. They were not betrothed. There had been no talk of marriage or any definite promise made. What right did Kyle have to swan back to Freemont after sending no word and expect everything to be as it had been before?

"Tara… don't be like that," Kyle replied, his tone changing as he reached up and placed the back of his hand on her cheek. "I was just looking forward to seeing you, that's all. It's been a long, hard ride from Helena, and all I've thought of is you."

Tara gave a weak smile. His words were sweet, but there was a hint of insincerity in them. Did he really mean what he said?

"Why didn't you send word? I've been worried about you," she said, for that much was true.

At the very least, Tara had wondered where Kyle was, and whether something might have happened to him on the trail. She felt guilty at having neglected to make enquiries, hoping, perhaps, he really had changed his mind. But his return raised all sorts of questions—the most pressing of which was what to do about her own now-obvious feelings toward John.

Tara had been na?ve to think she could ignore the possibility of Kyle's return, and now that she was confronted by him, she knew she owed him—at the very least—an explanation.

"I told you I was going to Helena on business. It's dealt with now. You don't need to worry about it," he said.

"But I want to know. Are you going back? I still don't understand why you didn't send word," Tara replied, adamant she wanted to know why he had done what he had done—leaving no real word, or even sending her a letter."You wrote to me almost every day from Chicago. Couldn't you have done the same from Helena?" she persisted.

"I was busy, Tara. I had a lot to see to," he said.

Tara was about to press him, but at that moment, John appeared at the stable door.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, and Kyle glared at him.

"Yes… everything's all right. Though the same can't be said for you, can it?"

John looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Tara, too, was confused, even as Kyle smiled and shook his head.

"I was trying to place you before. We haven't met, but there was something familiar about you, and now I've remembered. Your picture's everywhere in Helena. Someone's looking for you, a woman—your wife, I presume. I can see the resemblance now. I didn't before, but it's definitely you," he said.

At these words, Tara's eyes grew wide and a tear rolled down her cheek, one she hastily brushed away. John was staring at Kyle in disbelief, and he shook his head as though refusing to believe what Kyle was saying.

"There might just be a resemblance—lots of people look like lots of other people, don't they?" he said, glancing at Tara, who didn't know what to say in response.

Kyle took a step forward, holding up his lamp and nodding. "No… it's definitely you. They were talking about it in the saloons. You were expected back weeks ago."

"But Sheriff Fenton made enquiries," John said, and Kyle only shrugged.

"Helena's a big place, and I think she only started worrying recently. I'm trying to help you, John. You're married. You might have children to go home to. Isn't it worth making the journey to Helena for that? You'd remember everything then," he said.

John looked doubtful, and Tara wondered if Kyle could really be certain that what he was saying was the truth.

"But are you sure?" she asked.

"I saw the picture with my own eyes—it's like a wanted poster, but for a woman's husband, not a criminal," Kyle replied. "I didn't recognize you at first, John. But I can see it now. You're the man on those posters, and it's Helena where you belong."

"But I don't have any memory of Helena. It doesn't make me think of… anything," John said.

Tara was getting cold now. Rubbing her hands together, she stomped her feet to keep warm.

"Let's go inside and talk about this," she said, and the two men followed her into the house, where they found Maisy sitting in front of the stove.

"I must say, it's good to be home. But you must feel the same, John—about the thought of going home, I mean," Kyle said.

Tara noticed he had already let himself into the house before coming out to the stable. His saddlebags were on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, and several other bits and pieces littered the table. She didn't like the way he spoke about "home"—not least because this was not his home, it was hers. The more she thought about it, the more she wished he hadn't returned. There was something strange in his behavior, an overconfidence in his position she found uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I suppose so. But I can't just go to Helena and see what happens, can I?" John said, glancing at Tara, who shook her head.

"No one's asking you to go anywhere, John," she replied.

The question of his leaving had always been there, but it had seemed a remote possibility—something for the future, and not something definite. But if Kyle was right, then John would have no choice but to leave. He would have a duty to do so, even as Tara knew it would break her heart to see him do so.

"But you won't want to stay, will you? How can you? It's your wife that wants you back. She's desperate for news of you. You might not remember her, but she remembers you. Why else would she have put up those posters and tried so hard to find you?" Kyle said.

He had taken off his boots and was stretched out in front of the stove. He looked expectantly at Tara, as though waiting for her to offer him something to eat and drink.

She had been looking forward to spending the evening with John, and for Kyle to now be in their midst brought a feeling of reluctant resignation. Was this how it was going to be for the two of them when John was gone? Tara felt trapped, and, turning away from Kyle, she raised the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to show the tears welling up in her eyes.

"I suppose… yes, I should look into it, shouldn't I?" John said.

He sounded uncertain—fearful, even. It was one thing to piece together the past through resurfacing memories but quite another to simply be told of one's past, and pushed towards one's future, too. Tara didn't know what to do. Now was not the time for the argument she knew had to come, but Kyle appeared so confident, so sure of his position. It was as though they were already married, and this was his home to return to and treat as his own.

"We could talk about it in the morning. You'll be tired now, Kyle. You'll want to get back to the boarding house and rest," Tara said, but he shook his head.

"I'll just sleep here tonight. Downstairs, of course," he said.

Tara faltered. She had offered John a place by the stove, but what choice did she have but to agree? Glancing apologetically at John, she nodded.

"All right… I suppose it's easier," she said, and Kyle nodded.

"Once it's light, I can point you on your way toward Helena. I'll ride with you, if you like," he said, turning to John, who also seemed to have no choice but to agree.

"Well… that's very good of you, I'm sure. But I really can't remember anything about Helena at all," he said, still sounding doubtful.

"Oh, it'll be easy enough. Once you get there, just go to the sheriff's office and he'll sort things for you. I don't remember your wife's name, but you're the one on the picture. Now, let's have some cocoa and then get some rest. You've a long journey ahead of you tomorrow, John," Kyle said.

Tara made the cocoa and they sat in silence, drinking it. She was fighting back the tears, trying not to show her emotions, even as she knew this was the end. She had allowed her feelings to run away with her, pretending as though Kyle would not return and that there was even a chance John would not discover what he had discovered. But all that had been a fantasy, and now she was faced with the stark knowledge of her situation.

You got yourself into this, she told herself after John had returned to his bed in the outbuilding.

She fetched blankets and made up a bed by the stove for Kyle—the bed she had intended to make up for John. Maisy looked at her indignantly, and when Kyle returned from the back room, where he had been washing his face, he nodded satisfactorily.

"I don't think there's much point in pretending any longer, Tara. We'll be married soon enough. I can't go on living at the boarding house. I should be here, with you," he said.

Tara nodded. "Well… yes, we'll talk about it."

He looked at her curiously, narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward and caught her by the arm. "You've missed me, haven't you," he said.

It was a statement rather than a question, but one Tara could not assent to without lying.

"Of course," she said, for she wasn't yet ready for the argument to come.

Despite now knowing the truth about John, the past few days had made Tara realize her future did not lie with Kyle. She had fallen in love with the man in the letters, and the man standing before her was different. Kyle was not the man she had thought him to be, and even if she could not have John, she knew she didn't want Kyle, either.

"Good. I've missed you, too. But everything's all right now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," he said. He raised his hand to her cheek and brushed back her hair.

Tara stepped back, nodding, and turned to wash the dirty cups.

"I still don't understand what you were doing in Helena," she said.

"I told you, it was just business. That's all," he said, and Tara didn't press the matter, fearing he would only grow angry.

Later that night, as she lay in bed with Maisy curled up beside her, she thought of John in the outbuilding. It made her sad to think her part in his recovery was now over. He would go back to Helena and find his wife and children, and that would be that.

As he remembered more about his past, he would surely forget Tara in the process. The past few days had been an idyll, but they had been a fantasy, too. It was time to put her feelings for John to the side.

I was better off on my own, she thought, closing her eyes and trying to sleep.

But try as she might, Tara knew it would not be so easy to ignore her feelings for John and move on. The man sleeping in the parlor was not the man she wanted to be with, and as she drifted off to sleep, Tara could only feel a sense of fear as to what would happen when the truth was revealed.