A Husband By Any Other Name Page 3

  “You hungry yet?” Dan asked now as they passed an orange food sign on the highway.

  “Yeah. I got used to three squares in that place. I missed lunch.”

  Dan took the exit and pulled into a truck stop. They seated themselves at a booth and a young waitress in rhinestone-studded jeans and a Western shirt brought them water and menus. She glanced from one of them to the other “Double the pleasure, double the fun,” she sang around a wad of chewing gum.

  Tom grinned back at her.

  “Thanks.” Dan took the laminated menu and pointedly waited for her to leave. She did so with a shrug.

  Tom watched her leave.

  Dan studied the menu.

  “Do you remember the last time you saw me?” Tom asked.

  Dan remembered every detail of that evening as though it had been the night before. Like it was the boys’ Ironman movie he’d seen a couple dozen times. "Fourteen years ago,” Dan replied. “The end of July.”

  “Have we kept in touch?”

  The waitress returned and flirted with Tom while she took their orders. Finally she walked away.

  “No,” Dan replied.

  Tom studied Dan’s carefully guarded expression “Am I the black sheep of the family or something?”

  Dan shook his head. “You couldn’t stand the place any longer. You told me you were leaving, but you didn’t tell anyone else."

  “I just left. Like that?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Did you try to talk me out of it?”

  “Sure. But you had a mind of your own.” Dan found himself using the past tense, as if he was discussing a person who didn’t exist anymore. "You have a mind of your own.”

  “Didn’t I call? Keep in touch?”

  “Never heard a thing.”

  “Did I run off with a girl or something?”

  “Why would you think that?” Dan asked. At Tom’s shrug, he went on. “You’ve been somewhere around here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your accent. It sounds like all of the people I’ve talked to the past couple days.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed with a nod. The waitress delivered their food and Tom thanked her with a wink. “Tom,” he said and the name he’d been called for so many years shot slivers of dread up Dan’s spine. “Who else at Beckett Orchards will recognize me?"

  “Our father,” Dan replied. “Gil.”

  “Gil.” Tom picked up his burger with his left hand and took a bite. “Our mother?”

  “She died the year after you left.”

  “Oh.”

  “Strokes.” A series of them that had left her without any motor control. Dan took a bite of his sandwich and it tasted like sawdust. She had known. Of course, their mother had been able to tell the difference between them. That same night he’d gone to the bed they’d set up for her in a downstairs room of their old house. Her eyes had been open, and she’d studied him as if she’d sensed something was wrong.

  He’d told her good-night and kissed her forehead. She blinked in response. He’d never had to tell her who he was. She always knew. Just like she’d known at that moment which brother tucked her in. He’d realized she would undoubtedly begin to wonder why Tom didn’t come to see her. Perhaps Gil would tell her that he, Dan, had left.

  The next morning Dan had told her the truth. Tears formed in her eyes and ran down her temples, and he wiped them away. “I didn’t tell you to be cruel, Ma,” he’d explained. “You would have known anyway, so I saved you figuring it out the hard way.” He brushed her hand with his fingertips. “I don’t know what you’d say if you could talk, but I’ll bet I’d have heard an earful by now.”

  A frustrated prisoner in her own body, she’d blinked. Dan had confided in her for the next several months until she’d died. Even when she’d been beyond hearing him, beyond recognition, he’d gone to the hospital and purged himself at her bedside. In all the years since, he’d never spoken the truth to another living soul.

  “Anyone else?” Tom asked.

  “Lorraine,” Dan answered. “My wife. She’ll remember you. And of course some of the neighbors. Lorraine’s sisters. Probably our cousins in Nebraska City.”

  Tom finished his burger. “You gonna eat that?” Dan looked down. “No. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to push on all night or stop to sleep and start out fresh in the morning?”

  “Well,” Tom replied, “I’m still pretty achy in places from the accident. I’d like to take one of my pain pills and get a night’s rest.”

  “Sure,” Dan said. “I wasn’t thinking."

  “No problem.”

  “Let’s check out the map and find somewhere to stop around supper time. I’ll call home then and let them know we’re coming.”

  Tom looked up in surprise. “They don’t know?”

  Dan shook his head. “I told them I was coming down to the agricultural university. The research lab is doing a study on one of my hybrids. Actually we do all the communication by phone and email, but I made up something about them needing my input on a project.”

  “Must have been a pretty convincing story.”

  “Yeah, well, they have no reason to doubt me,” Dan said with a fresh surge of guilt. They trusted him. They’d always trusted him.

  Tom sipped his cola.

  “I didn’t want to disappoint Dad if it wasn’t you.”

  Tom nodded. “Understandable.”

  Dan adjusted his hat, grabbed the check and paid at the counter.

  With a last wave at the waitress, Tom followed him out into the sunshine. “Well.” He glanced around. “You have the rest of the drive to tell me about my childhood."

  Dan plucked his sunglasses off the dash and slid them on. “That’ll make the miles fly by.”

  He started the engine and pulled onto the highway.

  Lorrie handed Thad, Bram and Jori lunches on their way out the door. “’Bye, boys! Have fun at day camp.”

  “We will, Mom.” Bram ran back and kissed her on the cheek before tearing after his brothers toward the bus stop.

  Autumn appeared in the kitchen doorway with her crayons and battered coloring books. “I’m gonna make a pitcher for Uncle Dan.”

  “I’m sure he’ll like it,” Lorrie told her, hurrying to load the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “Here, let Mommy put a clean tablecloth on.”

  She placed a bowl of fresh violets on the table and took off her apron.

  Tom had sounded so strange on the phone last night. She’d known immediately that something was wrong. And then he’d told her that he hadn’t really gone to the university about his hybrid project. He’d gone to a hospital and identified Dan, who had lost his memory.

  She understood why he hadn’t told Gil. The old man was seventy, and there was no reason to upset him until they’d known for sure whether or not the man was Dan.

  But surely he could have told her. She wouldn’t have said anything to Gil. She felt funny that he’d lied to her, even though he thought he had good reason. He’d never lied to her before. Oh, sometimes just silly things like pranks or where her Christmas present was hidden and what it was. But not a real lie.

  But then Tom had always been funny where Dan was concerned. He didn’t like to talk about him. Whenever Gil or his cousins or even Lorrie mentioned him, Tom had nothing to add.

  Lorrie assumed it was because as twins they’d been so close, and Dan’s leaving had hurt Tom more deeply than he let on. The situation had been awkward from the very beginning. The family had been in such turmoil over Dan’s disappearance that she and Tom had planned a quiet ceremony, rather than make a fuss while everything was in confusion.

  Tom had kept his promise and they’d been married immediately, even though Lorrie knew it was a difficult time for him. For her sake and for Thad’s, he’d finished his classes at the community college rather than the university. He’d been deeply affected, quieter, more withdrawn than usual. Gil had bee
n thrilled with the change that had come over Tom. He’d never seen him work so hard or so long, as if Dan’s leaving had given him a new maturity and a sense of family. He’d proven himself a responsible husband and father.

  But Lorrie knew a little portion of his heart had gone with Dan. She wondered what seeing his brother after all these years had been like.

  “The truck!” Autumn squealed and tore down from her chair and out the back door.

  Lorrie followed. Gil appeared from the corner of the house, wearing a shirt and trousers rather than his usual overalls.

  Late morning sun glinted off the truck’s windshield. The doors opened and two tall men got out. Both of them wore shirts of Tom’s. But Tom, who climbed down from the driver’s side, wore his familiar Stetson and sunglasses. The other brother’s hair was a little longer and he held his right arm in a blue fabric sling against his chest.

  Lorrie ran to Tom and Autumn followed. He leaned forward and kissed her, then reached down and scooped up Autumn. “Hey, munchkin. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Daddy. Is this Uncle Dan? He looks just like you.”

  “Yes, this is your uncle. Dan, this is Autumn... and Lorraine.”

  She and Dan nodded at one another. She’d forgotten how strange it was to look into the same pair of eyes on a different person.

  “And this is Dad,” Tom said.

  Hesitantly, Gil reached out, tears in his eyes. His hand trembled.

  Dan shook his hand. “Dad.”

  Gil lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his son. His shoulders shook.

  Tears filled her own eyes, and Lorrie had to look away. Unconsciously, she slid her arm around her husband and daughter.

  Dan felt her hand on his waist and pulled her close. She met his gaze, and tears swam in the honeyed depths of her eyes. She was so beautiful. What if seeing her made Tom remember? Dan had been a ball of nerves the last stretch of the drive, remembering Dr. Vance’s uncertainty, wondering if a significant sight or person would snap Tom out of his amnesia.

  What would he do if Tom suddenly remembered?

  “Sorry,” Gil said and stepped back.

  Tom adjusted his sling. He glanced at Dan. “Will I be stayin’ here?”

  “Yeah.” Dan stood Autumn on the ground. “Let me get your things.”

  “Lorrie,” Gil said, turning to her. “Do you think we could celebrate tonight? Have a special dinner? A pie maybe?” He sounded like a kid.

  “Sure thing, Dad,” Lorraine answered.

  Dan grabbed the hospital bag and green duffel from behind the seat and followed his father and brother.

  “We have a lot to catch up on,” Gil said to Tom.

  “Dad,” Dan interrupted. “He doesn’t remember what he’s been doing since he left.”

  “That’s okay,” Gil said quickly. “We’ll tell you what all of us have been doing, son.”

  Tom smiled pleasantly. Dan experienced the strangest feeling. Their father thought Tom was himself. He’d never been the favored one, and now Gil was treating him like the prodigal son. Why should he feel any jealousy? Gil was actually welcoming back the twin he thought was him!

  Besides, he was a trifle old for sibling rivalry like the kind Bram and Jori displayed regularly. But then, it wasn’t quite that uncomplicated, was it?

  “Do you remember what kind of pie you like?” Lorraine asked Tom.

  He shook his head. “I seem to eat anything.”

  “Then I have a preference,” Dan stated.

  Lorraine turned to him. “And that wouldn’t be chocolate meringue, would it?”

  “It would.”

  She dropped behind and tucked her fingers in his back pockets, slowing him down. “And what would you do for a chocolate meringue pie, Tom?”

  He stopped. Autumn skipped ahead into the house with her grandfather and uncle. “Oh, I’d lick the bowl, or the beaters. I’d lick anything you’d let me, probably.”

  She let go, stepped in front of him, pressed herself against Dan’s chest and wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you.”

  He kissed the top of her head and hugged her fiercely. “I love you, Lorraine. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”

  Supper was a celebration. Dan grilled steaks, and afterward they made ice cream in the electric freezer and ate it with apple pie. Dan, however, had chocolate meringue. Thad and Dan set up the badminton net and the family played.

  “No fair,” Bram called. “Uncle Dan can’t play on account of his arm. Let’s do something he can do.”

  “No, uh, Jori—” their uncle began.

  “Bram.”

  “Sorry, Bram. I’m pretty tired. They put me to bed early in the hospital.”

  “Were the nurses hot, Uncle Dan?” Thad asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Tom replied. “Especially the night nurse. She was about two hundred and fifty pounds of hot, and she smelled like garlic."

  The boys laughed and Dan couldn’t help joining them. Tom hadn’t lost his sense of humor. If Gil and Lorraine had really been listening and looking, they’d have seen through the charade right off.

  “I like Uncle Dan,” Autumn said when Dan turned on her pink flower night light and tucked her in.

  He kissed his daughter’s forehead. “He’s nice, isn’t he?"

  She nodded. “Is he sad he can’t remember you and Grampa?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan replied. “I think it would be pretty scary to not remember the people who love you.”

  She smoothed her stuffed giraffe’s plush fur. “If we keep loving him, will he remember?”

  Dan tucked the giraffe under the covers with her. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Good night, Daddy.”

  He blew her a kiss and closed the door.

  Thad’s door stood open, his study lamp still on. Dan knocked softly on the open door and stepped in. “Have fun at camp today?”

  “Hi, Dad.” He looked up from a desk cluttered with papers, books, and video game cases. “Yeah. We played ball and swam and stuff. It was cool."

  “Good. Don’t stay up too late.”

  “Dad?”

  Dan looked back.

  “Do you think I could get a job? Joe Kenney’s dad needs help for his truck garden.”

  “Thad, you know how much we need your help with the Festival.”

  “I know, I just thought—well, I’ve helped all summer and now the Festival’s coming up, too. Sometimes I think I’ll puke if I smell another apple.’ ’

  The last thing Dan wanted to do was pressure Thad into something he hated. “I do depend on your help, but I think we could get by without you this time, Thad.”

  Thad looked relieved for a moment, and then his expression changed to concern. “What about Grandpa?”

  “You let me take care of Grandpa.”

  Thad grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “If you should decide to help out, I’ll pay you more than I have been.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Thad.”

  Thad nodded awkwardly. “Me, too.”

  Dan smiled and closed the door on his way out. He stood in the hall and stared at the light beneath the door. Thad was so much like Tom. So much like him that it terrified Dan to think of him running off.

  A horrible idea came to him. What if Tom remembered, realized that Thad was his son, and they both took off together somewhere? It would kill Lorraine.

  It would kill him.

  He made his way to their bedroom and stripped off his shirt and jeans. Lorraine entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee. “It’s decaf,” she said. "I didn’t want it to keep you awake.”

  “No chance,” he denied, sipping it. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days... nights... whatever.”

  She undressed, slipped a long T-shirt over her head and crawled into bed beside him. Dan set his cup down, took the elastic band from her hair and unthreaded the braid. She loved to have her head massaged. She p
urred and the sound sent heat through his body.

  “I hope Dan is comfortable.” They’d given him the sofa bed down in the family room.

  “It’s probably not easy being anywhere when nothing is familiar,” he replied.

  “Tom.” She sat up cross-legged facing him and reached for her cup. “The doctors don’t know if he’ll remember who he is? Who we are?”

  “No.”

  She drank and sat the cup back. “I felt really funny about you lying to me.”

  His mind jumped to attention. “What?”

  “About where you were going. You could have told me.”

  “I know. You’re right. I was upset, Lorraine. I did everything as quickly and as I thought best at the time.”

  “I know. But I still think you could have talked to me about it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She reached for the bedside lamp. “That’s okay.” The room plunged into darkness. “Were you done with your coffee?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He settled back against his pillow.

  In the darkness, his wife leaned over him, her hair draping his chest, ran her hands up his sides, and kneaded his shoulders and biceps. She smelled of vanilla and freshly washed cotton.

  His wife. He’d used another man’s identity when he’d spoken his vows, broken every promise of honor he’d ever made. She was his wife only in the way he felt about her... only in her mind and everyone else’s. He knew better.

  Lorraine

  What would she do once she knew they weren’t really man and wife? How would she feel about him then? Dan threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her face down to his, kissing her roughly.

  “Tom, not so hard,” she said against his mouth.

  Sick of that name, he arched upward.

  With a soft rustle, she tossed the nightshirt aside and her hands returned to his skin. “I missed you,” she said.

  He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think, didn’t want to go slow, but he allowed her to take her pleasure at a leisurely pace until she paused. Then he turned her beneath him in a swift motion and took out his fear and frustration unrestrainedly, desperately, possessively. When she gasped against his ear, when her body tensed and she clutched his shoulders, he covered her lips and stopped the name he knew would fall from her tongue.