27
A
daughter.
Everything inside Lucky went cold and still. In all the scenarios she had envisioned—and there had been hundreds—she’d never imagined a child. She’d assumed she would have sensed being a mother.
A suffocating wave of self-hatred engulfed her. Not only did she have a child, but apparently she had deserted her daughter. Why? What possible explanation could there be for leaving a child? Lucky had the awful feeling that her worst fears had come true. She was a terrible selfish person, not a good mother like Sarah, who’d done everything to hold her family together.
“How old is my daughter?” She choked out the words.
“Four,” Sarah responded. “Julie looks just like you. Beautiful brown hair and deep green eyes.”
Lucky trembled, but the pressure of Greg’s hand on the small of her back steadied her.
A fling.
She recalled Cody’s words with a sharp pang of humiliation. Her husband hadn’t reported her missing because he assumed she was off having a fling and would return. What kind of person left a child for a fling?
The woman in the mirror.
They were in Cody’s Bronco now, driving to the hotel where her family was waiting. The oppressive silence was broken only by occasional transmissions from the police radio.
“I can’t imagine leaving my child,” she said to Greg, then looked at Sarah.
“
Di
d Brad say what had happened?”
“No.” Sarah shook her head. “He just said you two had been having problems.”
“You would never have left—”
“
Don’t be hard on yourself,
”
Greg interrupted Lucky.
“
You don’t have any of the facts. Wait until you talk to this man.”
They drove into the palm-lined courtyard of the Four Seasons. Two doormen rushed up to the car, followed by a hostess with a colorful
lei
around her neck. Trembling, Lucky stepped out of the car, consumed by self-doubt. What would she say to her young daughter? If only she knew more about what had happened.
“I’ll go in with you,” Greg offered.
Lucky hesitated for several seconds, finally mustering the courage to say, “No. I have to do this myself. Please wait for me.
”
“We’ll be in the bar overlooking the beach,” Sarah said.
Cody gave Lucky the suite number, then guided Sarah toward the beach. Greg hung back, staying beside Lucky. She knew he wanted to speak with her privately.
“I have to see this man—my husband.” She put her hand on his arm. “I must find out why I left my daughter. Please understand.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm. It was a gentle kiss, yet it conveyed his inner strength. His love.
“Of course, I understand. You have a child. That changes everything. What it doesn’t change is the way I feel about you. I love you.”
“I know, and I truly love you.”
He nodded, then slowly walked away. Lucky struggled with the uncertainty of the situation. She loved Greg—of that she was completely certain—but what of her past life? Had she
once loved Brad Wagner the way she now loved Greg? Impossible. She could have never loved anyone this much.
Yet the man she was about to meet had married her and had given the most precious gift—a child. But it was a life she could no longer remember. She had a new life now, and she was so happy.
The elevator door slid silently open, and the beige marble foyer of the hotel’s concierge level stood before her in all its opulence. Lucky tentatively stepped onto the cool surface, and a man rushed up to her. She managed to mumble the suite number, and the concierge ushered her down a lushly carpeted corridor to the suite occupied by her family.
Her family.
The thought sent a shudder of disbelief through her. Somehow she’d never thought of herself as part of a family. She had been certain that she would have known she had a child. But she’d been wrong.
Lucky began walking faster, confused, panic just a hairbreadth away. Her pulse had accelerated and a sheen of moisture cloaked the back of her neck. She felt disoriented and hot all over, the way she had felt that first morning when she’d awakened to a strange orange sky.
The concierge stopped outside the suite where her husband and daughter waited. He knocked, and the sound seemed unusually loud in the elegant hallway. For a moment Lucky wished Greg were with her, but she inhaled a calming breath and told herself that this was her life, her family. She had to deal with this alone.
The door swung open and Lucky breathed a sigh of relief. A maid in a pristine uniform answered the knock.
“This is Mrs. Wagner,” said the concierge.
Mrs. Wagner.
The words had a strange, unnatural ring to them. She’d never thought of herself as anyone but Lucky Braxton. But that title was nothing more than an illusion. She was married to another man and had a young child.
The concierge left and the maid ushered her into the spacious room. Off to one side was a small round dining table overlooking the beach and the setting sun. A young girl sat there on a booster chair, eating, opposite a man with sandy hair and deep-set eyes. He looked very familiar.
“Kelly? Is that you?” He jumped to his feet but didn’t come closer.
The child turned, spoon in hand, and faced her. Oh, my God, Lucky said to herself. That’s exactly how I looked when I was four—straight brown hair in a rich shade of chestnut and vibrant green eyes.
“Brad?” Lucky forced herself to say, facing the man who was her husband.
“Are you okay? They told me you’d been in an
accident.”
He rolled his eyes and she understood the facts about what really happened had been kept from the child.
Brad Wagner’s hazel eyes surveyed her with concern. He was a slim man of medium height, with a long-distance runner’s build. His sandy hair brushed the top of his forehead in loose, wavy curls.
There wasn’t anything about him that would have made her look twice had she passed him in the supermarket. Certainly, he didn’t resemble the virile Greg Braxton. But she instantly saw why Sarah had liked Brad. He had a down-to-earth quality that stood out despite the luxury suite.
“Mommy?” Julie scooted out of the booster chair. “Mommy, what happened to yore hair?”
Yore,
not
your,
made Lucky smile. A child, an innocent child, still learning to pronounce words properly. Lucky’s heart floundered in her chest, then sank to her feet at the love and wonder shining from her daughter’s eyes.
The young girl looked familiar, but that was all. She didn’t remember anything about Julie. Until this moment, the enormity of what she’d lost when her memory vanished hadn’t really registered. Now Lucky was heartsick, wishing she could remember Julie as a tiny baby with just a tuft of dark hair instead of the deep bangs and longer hair of a child.
“Mommy got a haircut,” Lucky said, conscious of Brad staring. “Do you like it?”
Julie rushed over to her father and grabbed his leg with both arms, obviously confused and in need of reassurance from him. Brad Wagner’s hand touched his daughter’s dark hair. It was a natural gesture, instantly conveying a close, loving relationship. It made Lucky feel even more guilty. Where did she fit in?
“Julie’s a little frightened,” Brad explained.
Lucky dropped to her knees, recalling what Greg had told her about frightened animals. Get low; meet them on eye level.
“Hele, hele,”
she said, her voice soft. “Come on. Come to Mommy.”
Julie’s green eyes widened and she walked forward, her steps slow and tentative. “Mommy?” She took a few more steps toward Lucky’s outreached arms. “Where did you go?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m back now,” Lucky replied, just as her daughter came within arm’s length. Every fiber of her being longed to cradle the child to her breast.
Julie smiled and catapulted herself into Lucky’s embrace. Her little arms circled Lucky’s neck and she kissed her on the cheek. Lucky kissed her daughter, first on one cheek, then on the other. She hugged the little girl to her bosom and closed her eyes.
A few seconds passed and she opened them. Tears sheened her vision, and her throat was so tight she could barely swallow.
“Don’t cry, Mommy.” Julie brushed away a tear. “A kiss will make you betta’.” She kissed the rise of Lucky’s cheek with her sweet lips, concern in her eyes.
Unable to speak, Lucky cuddled her daughter. She experienced a swell of intense emotion, instantly recognizing it was love. This child was her flesh and blood. An innocent. The best part of her.
“Julie, finish your dinner,” Brad instructed. “Mommy’s going to be just fine.”
Lucky released Julie, and the child scampered over to the
table. Brad put out his hand to Lucky, helping her stand. She rose and looked into his eyes, too overcome with emotion to speak.
He guided her to the table, asking, “Do you want something to eat?”
Lucky shook her head, blinking back tears. The last thing she wanted was food. She wanted to watch her daughter eat what appeared to be a cut-up piece of chicken. Who had taught her to hold a fork?
Suddenly, all the things she would never remember were overwhelming. Her first glimpse of her newborn baby. Julie’s first step. Julie’s first word. Memories other mothers cherished.
Gone forever.
She had convinced herself the past didn’t matter. She had been making a new life for herself. But she realized she’d done it thinking her own past was ugly and frightening. She’d been afraid she was a prostitute, not a mother.
But the past did matter. Lucky watched Julie, thinking of events she no longer recalled. Again her heart ached for the precious moments she would never remember—memories of her daughter.
Lucky was conscious of Brad staring at her, and she mustered a smile. There were so many questions she longed to ask about their relationship and why she’d left. But now with Julie happily eating, stabbing each piece of chicken with her fork, was not the time. They needed to be alone.
“Honey, eat your vegetables,” Brad told Julie.
She speared one pea with her fork and slowly brought it to her mouth. Lucky couldn’t help smiling. Julie hates peas, she thought, just like most children. What else doesn’t she like? What else have I forgotten?
“Does she have to eat those peas?” Lucky asked. “She doesn’t like them. Maybe we could get carrots. Do you like carrots?”
Julie looked at Lucky as if she were crazy. Then she gazed uncertainly at her father.
Brad was staring hard at Lucky. “You always insist she eat what comes on her plate. You do
n’t want a pampered princess.”
“Oh.” Obviously, they were wealthy. Perhaps the child was in danger of being overindulged. “Maybe this once Julie could skip the peas.”
A bewildered expression crossed Brad’s face, then vanished. He smiled at her and she realized this was the first time he’d smiled. It was an easygoing smile that seemed to suit him perfectly. She couldn’t help smiling back.
Lucky watched Julie attack the rest of the chicken, one piece at a time. The child put down her fork with a thunk and reached for her glass of milk, knocking it over. The milk sloshed across the plate, swamping the chicken and peas.
Wide-eyed, Julie stared at Lucky, clamping her small hands over her ears. A second later, she burst into tears. Lucky jumped up and grabbed the sobbing child.
“Sweetie, it was an accident. It’s all right. We’ll get you another milk.”
Julie wailed even louder, her hands still on her ears. What was wrong with her? It was only milk. Brad quickly took Julie from Lucky’s arms, telling the child it was all right. She gradually stopped crying while Brad rocked her in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” Lucky asked him.
“You always yell at her if she spills something or accidentally breaks something,” he replied, a censuring note in his voice.
“I do?” A wave of revulsion swept through her. What kind of mother had she been? She wanted to be a loving mother like Sarah. “I’m sorry. I—I
…
”
She didn’t know what to say.
Julie blinked, her wet lashes spiked around her green eyes. “Tell me, Mommy, tell me.”
“Tell you what, sweetie?” She touched Julie’s moist cheek. “Mommy’s been in an accident. She forgets things. You’ll have to help her.” This brought a smile to Julie’s face.
“
What do you want me to say?”
“Nebber forget. I love you.”
All the air whooshed out of Lucky’s lungs in a loud gasp. Oh, my God.
Never forget. I love you.
She was such a self- centered person. All this time she’d imagined some wonderful man passionately uttering those words. Instead, they’d been an apology for a hair-trigger temper.
“Sometimes you overreact,” Brad said kindly. “You’re angry and you scream at Julie, but then you cool off. You always tell her you love her afterward.”
Weak with self-loathing, her lips trembled as she tried to smile reassuringly at her daughter. “Mommy’s sorry that she’s screamed at you in the past. I’m not going to do it anymore. I promise.”