Page 13 of Stolen Time
However, she didn’t flinch when Helen came over to her and pressed gentle hands against her skull, clearly trying to see if she had any bumps or bruises that had been overlooked. Even that careful examination caused a strand of hair to come loose from the bun at the back of Deborah’s neck, falling softly against her cheekbone.
In that moment, Seth wished he could reach out and push it back…and maybe, just maybe, touch her cheek as well to feel the velvet softness of her skin.
As best he could, he dismissed that entirely inappropriate thought. How was it that he’d traveled through life without ever getting distracted by a woman, and now, less than twenty-four hours after meeting Deborah Rowe, he could think of nothing more than how much he wanted to kiss her, to pull the pins from her hair and let all of its glorious masses fall free over his hands?
It was an entirely different kind of witchcraft from the one he knew.
To his relief, Helen spoke then, pulling him away from the dangerous course his mind seemed determined to take.
“I can’t find any obvious signs of injury,” she said. “No bumps or knots or half-healed wounds.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Deborah ventured, but Helen’s troubled expression didn’t change.
“Normally, I would say yes,” she replied. “But if you weren’t knocked out by a blow to the head, then something else must be causing your amnesia. I suppose it’s possible you were administered ether and it somehow scrambled your memory. I’ve read of that happening occasionally, and often the memories lost are the ones from immediately before a patient was etherized.”
Deborah’s blue-gray eyes widened. “Why on earth would anyone give me ether?”
“I have no idea,” his cousin replied. “And unless your memory somehow comes back on its own, none of us may ever know.”
They were all somewhat subdued after that exchange, even as Seth’s thoughts kept tumbling over one another, trying to determine whether being etherized and dropped in the mine was worse than getting hit over the head, until he decided at last that both were equally unpleasant propositions. After all, they were both predicated on some unknown assailant or assailants having dark designs on Deborah Rowe, for whatever reason.
And that was a scenario he had a hard time accepting, mostly because she seemed so kind and friendly that he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to cause her harm.
Plenty of bad people existed in the world, though…or at least, that was the sort of sentiment his parents or the clan elders liked to intone whenever someone got a hankering to leave Jerome and try their luck elsewhere in McAllister territory. Seth had never heard of any harm coming to his cousins in Payson or Prescott or even Wickenburg, but he also had to admit that those weren’t the places where their clan had originally settled and therefore were slightly less known.
“But,” his cousin Helen said as they finished their tea, “until we can learn where you came from and why you ended up here in Jerome, Deborah, we need to get you in a more settled situation. After all, it just wouldn’t look proper for you to continue sleeping on Seth’s sofa.”
“I have a second bedroom,” he replied, and she sent him a look so stern, he wondered if she’d borrowed the expression from his mother.
“That won’t do, and you know it,” Helen told him. “It’s entirely improper for an unmarried man to have an unmarried woman who isn’t his sister or other close relative staying in hishome.” She turned her gaze toward Deborah, adding, “I would offer you a room here, but now that little Nicholas is out of the nursery, I’m afraid I don’t have any spare bedrooms.”
Deborah’s mouth pursed. “I don’t want to be any trouble — ”she began, and immediately, Helen shook her head.
“You’re not any trouble,” she said. “There are plenty of houses in this town where people do have spare rooms. We just have to determine which one would be best for you.”
“Maybe a boarding house?” Deborah ventured.
Seth didn’t like that idea at all. Most of the boarding houses in Jerome were occupied by miners or other mine workers, and a rough, untidy lot they were — even if many of them were on his crew, people he knew well enough. And the places that weren’t filled with unattached men housed the same women who frequented the bars…and whose reputations were nothing to be proud of.
True, there was the surgeon’s house, where the nurses who worked at the sanatorium lived, but as far as he knew, they didn’t have any extra space available. Besides, Deborah wasn’t a nurse…or rather, he didn’t believe she was. He supposed a nursing background might have been just another element hidden in the black gulf that currently comprised her memory, and yet he didn’t think so.
It seemed his cousin Helen was of the same mind, because she said at once, “Oh, no — the boarding houses here in Jerome wouldn’t be suitable for you at all. It’s much better if we put you up with one of our cousins. We McAllisters are a very large family, and I’m sure someone will have room for you.”
“What about Daphne’s room at Aunt Ruth and Uncle Timothy’s house?” Seth suggested. Most likely, he’d thought of his cousin because she was already fresh in his mind, thanks to using her as a fit reference so his mother could choose clothing of the correct size for Deborah. “She and Jack Emory just gotmarried and moved into that house on Holly Avenue, so her room would be empty now.”
“Of course,” Helen said, relief clear on her porcelain features. “I should have thought of that. Why don’t you run up to Ruth and Timothy’s house now to ask them if they’d be all right with taking on a guest, and I can walk Deborah over to your place while we’re waiting?”
The words sounded casual enough, but because of the significant look his cousin gave him, he knew she expected him to blink himself up to their house once he was outside and safely out of Deborah’s line of sight.
Which was already what he’d planned to do, so in this at least, they agreed.
He looked down at Deborah. Through all their back and forth, she’d seemed calm enough, but he noticed now the way her fingers were wrapped around the handle of her teacup a little too tightly, as though she wasn’t sure what she would do once she let go.
Well, he had to admit that it was probably uncomfortable to have to sit there and listen to them discuss her fate. Better to get this over with, just so she — and they — would know what was happening next.
Because as much as he would have liked to continue arguing that it was fine for her to stay at his house, he knew there was no point in wasting his breath. Such an arrangement would be scandalous at best, and he certainly didn’t want to impair Deborah Rowe’s reputation if or when her memory returned to her and she went back whence she came.
“This won’t take very long,” he assured her, and sent her a quick smile to, with any luck, let her know they were all trying to look out for her best interests.