Forget Me Not Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Maureen L. Bonatch

  Forget Me Not

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  The boxes of candy hearts Julie forgot spilled across the floor.

  Cole knelt and gathered the papers. His mouth formed a hard line as he glanced at Sabrina’s leave paperwork with the end date prominently circled. He replaced it on the table under the keys.

  “No really, I can do it. You stay, Cole. I’ll be right back.” Sabrina caught her reflection in the mirror on the wall. The quest for a coat resulted in her hair looking as if she’d stuck her finger into an electrical outlet. Her appearance matched her desperation. She ran her hands over her head, but the static filled strands resisted smoothing.

  “I need to check on Dad anyway, and it’s on my way. I’ll take Josie.” Cole extended his elbow, and Josie latched on like a lifeline, her fingers digging into the leather of his jacket. She skittered across a few of the remaining candies, crushing Be Mine and Love Me on the floor. “Thanks again for dinner, Marge.”

  “Cole, wait.” Despair leaked into Sabrina’s plea.

  He glanced toward the papers on the table and sighed. “I waited for years, Rena. It’s you who waited too long.”

  As the door closed behind him, so did the future she’d imagined with Cole. Her shoulders fell. She knelt to collect the candy hearts scattered on the floor. Forget Me Not and Hug Me taunted her with their cheerful words. Lacking a garbage bag, she shoved a handful of the candies into her jacket pocket. Several hearts were trodden into tiny pieces, like her own.

  Praise for Maureen L. Bonatch

  “Maureen Bonatch does a great job with being descriptive enough to intrigue the reader without weighing down the story with descriptions. And her characters are so amazingly real to the point where even some of the secondary characters rivaled main characters from recent books I’ve read.”

  ~A Life Through Books Blog

  ~*~

  “There were many surprises and the way that Maureen L. Bonatch was able to keep the pacing just right really [in DESTINY CALLING] helps everything flow naturally. You won’t want to put it down.”

  ~Texas Book Nook

  Forget Me Not

  by

  Maureen L. Bonatch

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Forget Me Not

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Maureen L. Bonatch

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by RJ Morris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0502-8

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To all of my wonderful family.

  I’ll never forget the memories we’ve made

  filling my heart and making me smile.

  If I do, I can always rely on

  my pensive husband, who forgets nothing.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d love to thank all who helped shape Forget Me Not, but I can’t, I forgot—just kidding! If you’ve read any of my stories, or visited me on social media, you’ll realize I love a sense of humor. One of my favorite sounds is laughter, and my beautiful girls have the very best giggles.

  A huge thank you to my publisher, the Wild Rose Press, Inc. for being wonderful to work with, and my editor, Frances Sevilla, for her awesome ability to tweak my words to perfection. Special thanks to RJ Morris for creating a beautiful cover conveying my vision. I can’t thank my BFF and critique partner, Anne, enough for tolerating my unusual sense of humor.

  In the words of my hubby, “Ask me anything about eighteen years ago, but I won’t remember last week.” While I am the opposite…together we make one person.

  To my readers, don’t forget to smile. Don’t lose your giggle. But remember, sometimes getting to that happy place involves giving second chances.

  Chapter One

  “Did you call my husband?” The familiar scent of antiseptic filled Sabrina’s nostrils. Shifting on the bed caused a piercing pain through her skull. Her vision blurred. The large wipe off board, depicting a list of specialty coffees became hazy. It cleared to display cardboard cupid cutouts aiming arrows at the nurse’s scrawled name, Carolyn.

  “Your—” Carolyn’s eyes grew wide as she and Dr. Manny exchanged a look.

  Dr. Manny patted her arm. His kind blue eyes peered from tented lids. “You suffered a concussion. Perhaps the injury and the medication are responsible for your confusion. You should rest.”

  “Did something happen to my husband?” Sabrina winced as she struggled to sit. The memory of the accident fogged and faded, but thoughts of her husband’s emerald green eyes sparkling with his smile made her heart clench. She couldn’t bear losing him.

  Carolyn became preoccupied with adjusting her scrub top to avoid Sabrina’s inquiring gaze. The cheerful candy heart stickers adorning her nametag contrasting with her sour expression. “Sabrina, you’re not married.”

  Wasn’t she?

  “I called your sister, Julie, at the number listed on your emergency contact card.” Carolyn worried her lower lip between her teeth.

  “What? But my husband—”

  Carolyn and Dr. Manny exchanged another concerned glance. Memories flooded Sabrina’s mind. The kind of toothpaste her husband used, how he enjoyed a martini in the evening with one olive, picking out their wedding bands. Frowning provoked an unwelcome painful reminder of her reality.

  Why couldn’t she recall her husband’s name?

  “I’m more confused than Mr. Brown’s rooster.” As soon as she muttered the expression common in her hometown, she realized neither of these people would understand the reference and add it to the long list of evidence reinforcing her disorientation. Sabrina sniffed to stem the threatening tears. If she released just one, she might not be able to stop. The sympathetic look on Carolyn’s face caused her to sink deeper into her own pity party.

  Sabrina squirmed, rustling the starched sheets. How humiliating to be treated by the staff I supervise. Carolyn and her perplexed stare dissolved, replaced with the murky image of a teenage girl wearing an apron with an imprint of a coffee cup and the words Rena’s Way.

  “You have extensive bruising, especially in the chest area from the air bag deploying and two bruised ribs.”

  “What?” Sabrina asked, as Carolyn’s face returned into focus, complete with her usual puckered expression.

  “Well…” Dr. Manny cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. Bedside manner ranked low in his skills—he used to work in the mortuary. Dead patients didn’t burden you with emotions. “Do you have anyone to help you when you get home?”

  Home. The images of her Manhattan apartment didn’t come to mind. Instead Sabrina envisioned the back roads of Pennsylvania laced in their skeletal winter beauty of ice and snow. She thought of her family and friends—the ones she’d said good-bye to ten years before when she chased her big dreams to the city. She pictured the sanctuary her mother created in her living room, encouraging escape into a good book. Instantly, she made her decision. “Yes,” she replied wistfully, “I have help at home, in Pennsylvania.”

  ****

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable?” Julie’s dark brown eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. Her dirty blonde curls bounced around her shoulders when she drove through a pothole. “I’m sorry about the road.” She chuckled in her usual lighthearted manner. “You can always count on Pennsylvania for never-ending road construction.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Sabrina said, despite the jostling. She shifted to ease her pain. The long airplane trip exacerbated the discomfort of her bumps and bruises. She resembled a kaleidoscope, discovering new color patterns each day. Most of the swelling dissipated, and the bandages on her head were removed, but the effects of the head injury, and her mind, still worried her.

  In the weeks since the accident, the strange images kept emerging in her thoughts. Instead of lessening, they’d become more frequent. The closer she’d gotten to Pennsylvania, the more the images flooded her mind. Memories of events that hadn’t happened with a man she’d never married. A concussion could cause memory problems, but remembering imaginary holidays and anniversaries spanning the last ten years was disturbing.

  “How long are you staying?” Julie gripped the wheel, carefully maneuvering the snow-covered road.

  “I have ten more weeks for my leave…then I’ll see.” Sabrina stared out the window, contemplating the changes to her hometown sinc
e she left. Like many small towns, much changed, and yet most remained the same.

  “Ten weeks?” Julie eye’s widened. “You’re staying that long. I mean, I’m surprised—thrilled, of course.”

  “Julie,” Sabrina caught her sister’s stricken gaze in the mirror. “I know what you meant. It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. Too long.” She smiled, understanding her sister’s uneasiness. They weren’t as close as they used to be since Sabrina made climbing the ladder of success, at the sacrifice of her personal life, her priority. She hoped to eliminate the invisible barrier they’d erected in the coming weeks.

  The accident prompted her to consider her life and her future. Especially since her mind kept manufacturing images and scenes of the life she thought she’d had, but apparently never did. She didn’t have the cozy, warm house and the loving husband who existed in her memories. Instead, she lived a lonely life in a sterile apartment. Either the concussion or the medications had befuddled her mind.

  “Have you been feeling okay?” Julie scrunched up her nose like she did when she broached an uncomfortable topic. “I guess that’s a stupid question. You probably don’t feel good. But when the nurse from the hospital called, she said something…odd. She said you asked about your husband.” The forced chuckle held no mirth, and Julie’s gaze met Sabrina’s and held. “I’d guess it’s normal to experience weird thoughts after a head injury, huh?”

  “Sometimes.” Sabrina took a deep breath. She needed to talk to someone, because the memories were driving her crazy. Or maybe she already was crazy. “I know you’ll think what I’m going to tell you is strange.” Sabrina hesitated, but if anyone would listen with an open mind, Julie would. “You know the nurse you talked to…Carolyn?”

  Julie nodded. “Yeah, the one who looks like she swallowed a lemon.”

  “When she stopped at my room before my discharge, I knew exactly what she came to brag about. An hour before, I’d envisioned her telling me how Dr. Manny finally set a retirement date and what gift she bought him. Carolyn described the gift I already knew she’d purchased. I could’ve told her what she had engraved on the golf clubs.” Sabrina scowled, bringing on a fresh flash of pain. “From your favorite nurse.”

  Julie shrugged. “She probably told you before the accident and you forgot.”

  Sabrina shook her head. “I think it’s more than that. Since the accident, I have a whole set of memories of being with a man I don’t know.”

  Julie’s gaze brimmed with concern. “You’re right. That is weird. Definitely something triggered from the blow to the head. You’ve never even been engaged. Remember when you told me your plans didn’t include marriage? You left for the city to avoid being trapped in a small town.”

  “That’s the problem, I don’t remember wanting the big city life. I only remember wanting him.” Feelings of helplessness overwhelmed her, and the desire to take comfort in her husband’s strong arms. The husband she didn’t have.

  Her sister’s silence spoke louder than any words. “It’s probably good you came home. You can use the rest and stay with me and Jim, if you want.”

  The sympathetic expression on Julie’s face matched her coworkers’ looks at the hospital. Sabrina decided to change the topic. Pressing her concern about her visions further might result in a long stay in the psychiatric ward instead.

  “Thank you, but you and Jim need your privacy. I’ll stay with Mom.” Sabrina winked but her grin faltered at Julie’s pained look. The year of unsuccessful attempts to become pregnant hampered Julie’s usual optimism.

  After an awkward silence, Julie let out a nervous laugh. “I did mention your car accident around town. ’Cause you know how people talk.” She lifted her brows in the mirror. “They would all assume you were running from an abusive boyfriend.”

  Sabrina eagerly sought gossip other than her own. No one could escape small town gossip. “You know…” She bantered with her younger sister. “That story has probably gone through more changes than Mrs. Dunkin has husbands.”

  “Who?” Julie furrowed her brow until recognition dawned, “Oh, you mean Mrs. Mills. Come-on Rena, she’s married three more times since then.”

  Sabrina squirmed at the reminder of all she’d missed and her inability to locate a comfortable position to alleviate the seat belt from digging into her sore ribs. “We’re almost home. Tell me what else is going on.”

  Julie beamed, adjusting the rear view mirror to see Sabrina better. “We have a coffee shop now.” Her eye’s sparkled as she awaited her response.

  “That is good news.” Sabrina smiled, a self-professed coffee addict. Knowing this small town could never compare to the coffee shops she’d become accustomed to in New York, she’d packed her expensive coffee machine.

  “Actually,” Julie continued. “The Cup is the best place to get the scoop on everybody. A lot has changed since you’ve been here, and I don’t know where to begin. Besides, we’re home.”

  Home. Warmth spread through her belly as they turned into the driveway. An image of a small cozy kitchen filled her mind. The yellow walls seemed familiar, but unknown at the same time. The countertops were free of the expensive gadgets and décor adorning the kitchen in her apartment, but felt more like home than hers ever had.

  The fleeting sense of peace dissolved when the white house with blue shutters came into view. The cheerful colors and ambiance complemented Mom’s personality, but didn’t match Sabrina’s recollection of the home she envisioned. She frowned. Did that home only exist in her mind?

  Marge Post emerged dressed in loose jeans and a T-shirt. Her auburn pixie haircut emphasized her delicate facial structure. She raced down the steps with the energy of a much younger woman.

  “There’s Mom.” Julie waved enthusiastically as if she’d not seen her an hour earlier.

  Sabrina grasped the car door handle in anticipation of the motherly hug she’d yearned for since the accident. Despite their daily calls, you couldn’t feel a hug over the phone.

  “Wait a minute, or you’ll hurt yourself.” Laughing, Julie, at a petite five-foot four, awkwardly attempted to assist Sabrina’s lanky five-foot eight.

  “Look at that spunk, I guess you’re still playing volleyball.” Sabrina sank into her mother’s embrace. Nothing ever felt so good.

  “Yes, it keeps me young. I’m so happy to have you home.” Marge gently cradled Sabrina’s face in her hands, reaching to pat her black hair, checking for injuries. “My poor baby, how are you feeling?”

  “Better…now that I’m here.” She ran her hands over the goose bumps on her mother’s bare arms. “Where’s your coat? It’s freezing out.”

  “I couldn’t waste time getting a jacket with my Rena home.” Marge took her hand and led her to the house while Julie followed, carrying Sabrina’s luggage. “I made chicken soup. It’s bubbling on the stove”

  Feeling like a kid again, Sabrina didn’t want to admit she relished the attention, so she rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’m not sick. I just need to rest.”

  Marge smiled smugly. “It has dumplings.”

  “Well, if you put it that way.” Sabrina laughed. Her mother knew her weakness for the doughy treat.

  Sabrina’s laugh faded as she glanced at the door, almost expecting Dad to rush out to greet her with a gigantic bear hug. Chicken soup had been his favorite too. She pushed the thought aside and forced a smile.

  She’d received the message about Dad’s heart attack while working a twelve-hour shift at work, during the worst snowstorm of the winter. Emergencies hindered her departure and by the time she rushed to the airport, she missed her flight—the last flight before the airport closed. Since then, she’d delayed a visit home because she didn’t have the heart to return just to see his grave, preferring to remember him alive. Seeing her mother’s delight, she realized the selfishness of the act.

  The door opened as they approached, but the man wasn’t her father. Sabrina sucked in a breath. “Who? Um, who is that, Mom?” She tried to ask nonchalantly, without gaping at the man clutching a toolbox.

  “What?” Marge followed her gaze. “Oh, you mean Cole. How hard did you hit your head?” Her mother furrowed her brow and placed a light hand on Sabrina’s arm. “Don’t you remember him?”