Wife With Amnesia by Metsy Hingle Read Free Book Online Page A

The nuns named you Claire after that hurricane.”
    â€œI didn’t even know my name?” Claire asked, unsure of how she felt about the grim glimpse Matt had painted of her past.
    â€œApparently not.”
    Claire frowned. “But if I was three, wouldn’t I have at least been taught my name?”
    Matt shrugged. “Evidently not.”
    â€œAnd my parents? Did I ever try to find out who they were? I mean, I know it’s fairly common now for adopted children to search out their biological parents. Did I?”
    â€œNo,” he told her, his voice solemn. “As I said, you didn’t like talking about the past. You said that you preferred spending your time and energy focusing on the present and the future.”
    Why? Claire wondered. But from the shuttered expression on Matt’s face, she doubted he would provide her with the answers—even if he had them. And she wasn’t sure that he did.
    â€œYou feel up to taking that tour of the house now?”
    Recognizing the change of subject for what it was, Claire tucked the questions into her ever-expanding file of things she didn’t remember but needed to find out. “Sure,” she said. “But only if you allow me to walk.”
    â€œDeal.”
    The killer smile he flashed her went a long way to banishing her blues. And that kick to her pulse had nothing to do with the effort it took to position the crutches beneath her arms and everything to do with the feel of Matt’s arm around her shoulders, she admitted.
    He released her to stand on her own. “All set?”
    â€œAll set,” she replied. “Lead the way.”
    â€œI thought we’d start off in the kitchen.”
    Thirty minutes later, when they finished the tour downstairs and returned to the den, Claire felt as though she’d just run an obstacle course. Maneuvering herself around on the crutches, following several days of restricted activity, had left her exhausted. But mostly she was disappointed that seeing what should be the familiar surroundings of her home had failed to jar her memory.
    â€œWhat do you say we save the upstairs tour for later?”
    â€œI think that’s a good idea,” she replied, grateful that Matt had picked up on her weariness.
    â€œIn the meantime, I’ll go heat up the casserole Emma left us for dinner. Since you’ve been cooped up in the hospital for the past few days, I thought you might like to eat outside on the deck. How does that sound?”
    â€œIt sounds terrific,” Claire told him, and allowed Matt to help her navigate her way through the patio doors that led to a wooden deck overlooking the gardens and swimming pool.
    After propping up her ankle with a pillow and making sure she was comfortable in the lounge chair, Matt dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute with some tea.”
    Claire sank into the padded cushions and gazed out at the gardens. Dozens of rosebushes were heavy with blooms in varying shades of pink and white. Yellow flowers with lily-like petals stood majestically on long stems. White daisies with thick green foliage and assorted plants added to the colorful mix. The towering oaks and magnolia trees dotted the landscape like sentries, and the cobblestone path that led to the pool made her think of magical roads and ruby slippers.
    It was lovely, Claire thought. Enchanting. Everything about the house was beautiful—from the understated but elegant furnishings to the carefully tended flower beds. And everything about the house, the gardens and even Matt screamed the words class, privilege, wealth. The realization didn’t surprise Claire nearly as much as it disturbed her.
    She had surmised that Matt was someone of importance long before she’d left the hospital. It had had little to do with the quality of his clothing or even the detective’s comment about his family’s businesses. There had