LITMIR.BIZ

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she questioned, puzzled.

      Something told her that she wasn’t accustomed to selfless people. That everyone was always out for their own special interests.

      “It is for me,” Gabe told her. “And for the doc,” he added, nodding at the other man.

      Damn but the way this woman looked at him made him want to leap tall buildings in a single bound and change the course of mighty rivers, just like the comic-book hero of long ago. The very thought worried him. And yet, he couldn’t quite make himself back off. Couldn’t just turn her over to either Alma or Joe.

      This woman was his responsibility. His to help.

      “Let’s go,” he urged the woman, putting his hand lightly to the small of her back. A thought occurred to him before they’d gone two steps. “Unless you’d like to get something to eat first?” he suddenly suggested. He looked over his shoulder at Dan to see if the doctor had any objections about the slight delay in getting to the hospital. “Would it make any difference if she got a bite to eat first before going to the hospital for those tests you ordered?”

      During his exam, Dan had already checked her eyes extensively, using a probing light to determine the condition of her optic nerves. As a result, he was satisfied that there was no imminent danger, no swelling as far as he could see.

      “I didn’t detect anything that needed immediate attention,” Dan told both of them.

      Gabe had his answer and was pleased Dan sided with him. “All right, then, why don’t we get you something to eat at Miss Joan’s and then we’ll be on our way.” It wasn’t a suggestion so much as a plan.

      “Miss Joan’s?” she repeated, confused. Everything sounded like a huge mystery, a question mark to her, and she’d already become weary of the blanks that she kept drawing.

      The older woman had always been known to one and all as “Miss Joan.” “Miss Joan owns the only diner in town. Best food you’ve ever had,” he promised her.

      “How would I know?” she answered, raising and lowering her shoulders in a vague, careless shrug. After all, she had nothing to compare it to. She might as well have lived in a cave these last—how old was she, anyway? Something else that she didn’t know, she thought, frustrated.

      “Trust me, it is,” Gabe easily assured her as he ushered the woman out the door. Turning, he called out, “Thanks, Doc.”

      She took her cue from that, turning her head as well and calling out, “Yes, thank you.”

      With a quick wave, Dan turned back to go inside the clinic just as he saw two of his patients heading toward the building.

      Trust me.

      That was what the tall, dark-haired cowboy had just said. Why did that make her uneasy? Did she know him, after all? Was he not trustworthy?

      Or was this uneasy feeling generated by someone else? Someone who she couldn’t summon up in her defunct memory?

      She stopped just as he brought her back to the passenger’s side of his truck.

      Gabe noted the tension in her shoulders. “Something wrong?”

      “Other than everything being a perfect blank?” she asked him. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

      “Other than that,” he allowed with a slight nod of his head.

      Okay, he asked for it, she thought. “You said ‘trust me.’”

      He was still waiting. “Yes?” Did the phrase have any special significance to her?

      “Can I?” she asked bluntly, adding, “Should I?”

      “Yes and yes,” Gabe answered easily. “Ask anyone, they’ll tell you the same thing. You can trust me.”

      The testimony of strangers didn’t mean anything to her. “But I don’t know anyone,” she said quietly as she got in.

      “True,” he allowed, getting in on his side. “But you’re going to find that, in this world, you’ve got to let yourself trust someone. Otherwise, life gets too hard. Too lonely.”

      It already was too lonely, she thought.

      Suddenly a shiver danced over her, coming from regions unknown. As she tried not to let it shimmy down her spine, she heard herself asking, “But what if it’s the wrong someone? What if I trust the wrong person?”

      What if I have already?

      Gabe paused, his hand on the ignition key, and looked at her, trying to discern what was behind her question.

      “Did you?” he asked. “Did you trust the wrong person?” Were things beginning to fall together—albeit haphazardly—for her? Or was she just tossing out questions, trying to see if anything stuck?

      She pressed her lips together as tears of frustration suddenly gathered in her eyes.

      Was that only frustration, or was there more to it than that? She didn’t know and she was already so sick of that phrase floating through her head.

      She didn’t know.

      Would she ever know? Would she ever know anything about anything?

      The uncertainty was driving her crazy.

      “I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly again. “But something feels that way,” she found herself admitting.

      Gabe merely nodded. This time, he turned on the engine. It rumbled to life.

      “It’ll come to you,” he promised. “All of it. When you least expect it.”

      She slanted a glance at him. Was he talking down to her? Or was there experience on which to base his answer?

      “How do you know?” she finally challenged, not wanting to come across like a simpleton, secretly hoping to be convinced.

      “I just do,” Gabe said easily. He smiled at her. “It’s called faith.”

      Did she have that? Did she have any faith? she wondered. She hoped so. She needed something to hang on to, she thought in desperation. So, for now, maybe it would be faith.

      Faith in the man who was sitting beside her. A man who, though she really didn’t remember it, apparently had saved her life.

      “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll have faith.”

      Her answer surprised him, but he made a point of not showing her that.

      “Good.”

      He’d wanted to insert her name here, except that there was no name to use. She hadn’t had any sort of identification on her—no driver’s license, no social security card, no well-creased love letter addressed to her hidden in the pocket of her black dress.

      And if there had been any form of ID in the vehicle, most likely it was now burned to a crisp—as she almost was.

      “I need something to call you,” he told her. Even as he said it, he began going through possible names and rapidly discarding them for one reason or another. And then he had it. Just like that. “I know, how about Angel?”

      “Angel?” she repeated, testing it out on her ear. Like everything else, it didn’t seem familiar, but she liked the sound of it. “Why Angel?”

      “Because you look like one,” he answered simply. “At least, like one of the angels I used to picture when I was a kid,” he told her with an affable grin.

      “Angel,” she said again, and then nodded. It had a nice ring to it. “All right. I guess you can call me that.”

      “Just until you remember your real name,” he emphasized. Although he had a hunch it wasn’t going to be as good as “Angel.”

      She looked at him, wishing she could believe what he’d just said.

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