Time Tantrums (4 page)

 
Mariah considered him good-looking, but his clothes, his shoes... everything about him and this place seemed strange. Everyone dressed and spoke differently. If only someone would explain what was happening.

 
“It won’t be long before I can take you home, babe.”
 
David Morgan interrupted her thoughts. “I’ll bet you’ll be happy to be back in your own home and bed.”

Mariah’s hand trembled. She set her glass down, lay back against her pillow and looked away. Why would she go home with him?
 
She didn’t even know the man.

 
Using every bit of mustered strength, she turned her glaring gaze back to him. “I’m
not
Taylor!” she croaked.

Chapter Three

Taylor’s head pounded with pain. Trying to focus, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times, then propped herself up on her elbows. Everything looked foreign. The room was bright and cheery, but things appeared very old fashioned. She fingered the patchwork quilt covering the bed, and puzzled over the antique mirror hanging above an old-time washbowl and pitcher across the room. An incessant ache throbbed in her temple.

Where was she? What’d happened to her? A zillion questions raced through her mind.

“David!” Her call for her husband resonated pain in her head. “Where are you?”

She slid off the bed. Her legs wavered beneath her, and she clung to the bedpost for a time. After regaining her equilibrium, she weaved across the room and peered into the mirror. A massive bandage covered the top her head; black circles ringed her swollen eyes. She didn’t recognize herself.

“Boy, I look like hell,” she muttered
.

 
As she raised her hand to touch the bandage, the door behind her opened, and she spied the reflection of an
unknown
 
man
.

“Mariah, sweetheart.
You’re finally awake.”
 
He crossed the room with open arms.

Taylor spun and faced him. Feeling disoriented, she shook her head. “You have the wrong room, sir.”

His brows arched. “Mariah, what are you talking about? What wrong room?”

“Look fella, I’m not Mariah. Evidently you’re in the wrong place if you are looking for someone by that name.”

The stranger rushed over and took her in his arms. “Oh my sweet angel, the bump on your head is worse than Doc Samuels thought.”

Taylor shoved him away. “Take your hands off me. Who is Doc Samuels, and
who
in the hell are you?”

Suddenly, the room spun. Her stomach turned queasy. Needing to sit, she staggered back to the bed, her gaze still assessing the stranger.

“I’m Frank… your husband.”
 
He followed her, his head cocked, his eyes clouded in confusion.

She swallowed. “Excuse me? My husband’s name is David... David Morgan. I don’t know who you are, mister, but you must be the one who bumped
your
head if you think I’m your wife.”

“Well, if you aren’t, then just who might you be?”
 

“Taylor Morgan. I live in Denver. Can you please tell me where I am?”
 

“You’re in Colorado, about two hours from Denver City. Don’t you remember?”

“Two hours? How in the hell did I get here?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “When did you start cussin'?”

“Don’t worry about it, just answer me. How did I get here?” Her last nerve frayed, and he plucked at it.

“Don’t you recall? We were going to town in the wagon—”

 
“Wagon?
What the hell would I be doing in a station wagon?”

Frank took a deep breath. “I ain't got a clue 'bout no station wagon, but we were going to town, and Jacob needed to pee. I think he disturbed some rattlesnakes and they spooked the horses... Sound familiar?”

Taylor’s mind raced. Who was this loony? “Who is Jacob?
Wagon?
What horses? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Frank... is it? Look,
Frank
, I have an idea. Why don’t you just call me a cab and I’ll get out of your
way.
”

She looked down at the tacky nightgown she wore and wondered who had removed her clothing. Tugging at the sack-like shift, she let out an exasperated huff. “If you’ll just retrieve my things, I’ll get dressed and be ready to go when the taxi gets here.”

* * * *

Frank felt totally bewildered.
Taxi?
Cab?
He wasn’t surprised she didn’t remember the events leading to her injury, but he
was
shocked she’d created a new personality for herself. “Look, Mariah, uh... Taylor, you’ve been in and out of consciousness for almost two weeks now. Doc Samuels visits almost every day to check on you. Now, you just lay down and I’ll send for him.”

Taylor shot him a puzzled stare. “Why would a doctor make a house call? If I was injured, why am I not in a hospital?”

“Hospital?
Doc Samuels is all we have around these parts. We always send
for
 
Doc
when someone is hurt. Now, try to stay calm until he gets here. In the meantime, can I have Callie fix you something' to eat? You must be starvin'.”

Taylor squared her shoulders and winced.
 
Massaging her temples with her fingertips, she took a deep breath. “Look, Frank, or whatever your name is. I don’t know any Callie, and I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not working. Don’t
piss me
off. Either call me a taxi or bring me the damn phone!”

Her anger and continued cussing stunned him. “Can we just wait until Doc Samuels gets here and checks you out? Please?
Lay
down and rest.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I don’t feel very well. My head throbs with every heartbeat, and I feel woozy.
But
after I’ve rested a bit, I’m outta here.” She leaned back on the pillow.

“That’s a good girl.” He picked up her feet, swiveled them around to the bed. “I’ll send someone for the doctor.”

Frank raced out of the room, closing the door behind him. He paused in the hallway and leaned against the wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no logic to it. He made his way downstairs and headed for the bunkhouse and his foreman, passing his daughter without saying a word.

“Lloyd, Lloyd!”
 
Frank yelled. “You need to get to town quick and get Doc Samuels out here. Something’s not right with the missus.”

Callie waited on the porch, concern etched on her face. She looked so much like her mother, same reddish hair and big green eyes. “Pa, what’s wrong. Is it Ma? Is she worse?”

He grasped her shoulders. “Callie honey, I have to be honest with you. I’m really worried about your ma. She woke up and doesn’t know who she is. She doesn’t even know
me
! Far as I can tell, she thinks she’s somebody else—someone named Taylor something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Believe me, this is no joke. Maybe if you went upstairs, she might recognize you.”

Callie turned to go, but he grabbed her arm. “No, maybe that’s not a good idea. Perhaps it’d be better if you and Jacob gave Ma a few more days to rest. She’s still not feline' well.” Was he making the right decision? He wrestled with his indecisiveness. Recalling Mariah’s temper display and continued use of bad language, he nodded. “Yep, that’s probably the best idea. Let her sleep until Doc Samuels gets here.”

Frank shoved his hands into his pockets and paced the length of the porch.

Callie stepped in front of him. “Pa, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. It’s just that bad bump on her head… isn’t it?”
 
A deep crease furrowed his daughter’s brow. “She will be all right, won’t she, Pa?”

Frank put his arm around her. “I’ll make you a deal, honey. If you don’t worry, then I won’t. Doc Samuels will fix her up as good as new.”

“Worry ‘bout what, Pa?” Jacob jumped onto the porch, his hair tousled and dirt smudged on his cheek.

“It’s nothing important, son.” Frank lied through his teeth. His stomach was already in a knot and he feared the worst.

Chapter Four

David sat in the chair next to his wife’s hospital bed. His jaw twitched in response to her denial. “What do you mean you aren’t Taylor? Of course, you are.”

Mariah shook her head and whispered, “No, I’m not!
My
name is Mariah Cassidy.”

Her seriousness worried him.
“Fine, sweetheart.
Whatever you say.
You rest and I’ll go get the nurse or a doctor or…
somebody.”

He cast a final confused look over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Mariah took another sip of ginger ale. The bubbles tickled her nose and eased her dry throat. She needed to talk—she had questions—lots of them. The main one: why in the world a stranger considered her his wife. She glanced around the room, hoping something would strike a familiar cord. It didn’t.

He returned with the doctor, and pointed at her. “Dr. Shaw, please calm my wife. Tell her what you told me.”

“Mrs. Morgan,” Dr. Shaw approached the bed. His spectacles rested halfway down a pointy nose, his gray hair looked as though someone had greased it to his head. “I think you should know that some memory impairment is expected from the type of trauma you suffered.”

Mariah tried to sit straighter but winced at the pain. “My memory is just fine. I know perfectly well who I am. My name is Mariah Cassidy. I don’t know this man and I don’t know you. I don’t even know
where
I am.”
 
She wanted to scream.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Dr. Shaw rested his hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, Mrs. Morgan. You’re in Saint Anthony’s Hospital in Denver. You’ve been in a serious car accident. It may take a while, but everything will come back to you. Just give yourself time.”

Frustration welled and caught in Mariah’s throat. Why did everyone believe her to be Taylor Morgan? Something was terribly wrong. She didn’t understand who or what this ‘car’ thing was they keep talking about, but before she could voice her thoughts, the doctor walked to the machine on the other side of her bed. “Here, let me give you something to calm you a little.”

He inserted a needle into the tube in her arm, and a dark void pulled at her. “Wait. Wai...”

* * * *

David massaged his brow. “Doctor, are you sure she’s going to be all right?”

“Mr. Morgan, like I told your wife, you have to allow time for her to heal. It’s not at all unusual for someone who has suffered a head trauma to have memory loss. She’ll be fine.” He picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and jotted something down, then glanced up. “Do yourself a favor, Mr. Morgan. Go home and get some rest.”

David looked at his sleeping wife. Longing for a nap himself, he nodded. “I guess you’re right. I could stand a break. Will she be out long?”

“She’ll sleep for the rest of the day. Why don’t you come back this evening?”

David lifted his wife’s limp hand, kissed it and whispered, “I’ll be back later, darling. Sleep well.”

* * * *

Mariah fought to open her eyes. Blinking to adjust to the room’s darkness, she saw only dim shades of orange and red filtering around the window. She assumed the sun must be setting.

Looking around, she determined she was alone. Trying to sit upright, she propped herself on one hand.

 
“Yes, Mrs. Morgan. You rang? What can I do for you?”
 
The voice from nowhere startled her.

Searching for the source, Mariah surveyed the room. Was there a ghost haunting her now?

“Mrs. Morgan. Are you there?”

Straining, Mariah forced herself into a sitting position. “Ye…yes, I’m here, but where
are
you?” Her voice trembled as her gaze roamed the room.

“I’m at the nurse’s station, Mrs. Morgan. You pushed your call button. What do you need?”

Mariah raised her hand and saw the device beneath her palm. As if scalded by hot water, she jerked away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the… the button.”