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I let out my breath in a huff. “I suppose we do.” Bending at the waist, I let my hair fall forward in a sheet over my face. “There you are.”
“Let me see if I can do this properly. I used to see my sisters walking around after they washed their hair, but I’ve never done it myself.”
I waited while he worked, gathering my hair then wrapping the towel around it, but when I straightened again, it fell over my eyes. I tucked the sheet more securely then rearranged the turban myself. When I finished, I found him looking so nonplussed, I had to giggle. “It takes practice.”
“I suppose it does. Do you feel steady on your feet?” He studied me carefully, not lustfully, but with so much intensity, my cheeks burned anyway.
“I’m fine.”
Zion nodded. “You’re not fine, but why don’t you put on the shirt and come join us for a meal. Then you can get a good night’s rest.”
“Do you really think I’ll remember everything tomorrow?”
“Most likely.” His smile warmed something deep inside me. “But we won’t know until then. At least you will be warm and safe and well fed.”
“That means a lot.” More than they could know. Despite my lack of memory, I felt as if I’d been running from someone. Vague, without any details at all, but way back behind the wall blocking off my previous life lay a sense of discomfort and well, not fear exactly but certainly not happiness.
“All right. We will see you when you’re dressed.”
“May I use the hairbrush there?” I pointed to where it sat on the vanity by the sink.
“Anything you like.”
I took longer than I intended to rejoin the men, primarily because the brush was more intended for short hair than my long, knotted tresses, but I couldn’t stand to have it like that anymore. Plus, it gave me a few minutes to stare at myself in the mirror and try to find some measure of familiarity in the reflection looking back at me.
None. Nada.
Did I speak Spanish?
If so…I remembered no other words.
I also had no shoes—something I’d have to deal with if I ever intended to leave the house or go back to where I came from, should I ever remember where that was. But for now, the bedroom carpet was deep and luxurious, the wood floor of the hallway and living room smooth under my feet. And the sight that met my eyes in the open living/dining/kitchen area made my heart pound.
The two men were laughing about something, their heads close together. They were a couple, on their honeymoon, who had been kind enough to take in a stranger and help her feel at home. An amnesiac stranger at that.
I promised myself I’d leave first thing in the morning, somehow. Surely someone missed me by now? There should be some kind of an alert, right? But didn’t adults have to be gone forty-eight hours before they could be reported as missing persons?
And how did I remember that? I just wanted to know my name!
“Here she is.” Zion stood up and walked to the stove. “Have a seat and I’ll bring over the soup and biscuits.”
“Okay.” She. Her…would I be those things forever if I never regained my memory?
“We have strawberry jam.” Andrade smiled at me. “Not alpine strawberry but strawberry. And real butter.”
“That sounds good. I’m very hungry.” I settled in one of the empty chairs and folded my hands in my lap. “It’s nice of you to make dinner for me.”
“Just soup and biscuits,” Zion said, setting a bowl in front of me and one in front of Andrade. “But I always say if you have good company, everything tastes better.”
“That’s a good thing to say.” I waited for him to return with the plate of biscuits and his own bowl before digging into my food.
