George fought back his embarrassment. Maybe he shouldn’t have introduced Olivia to his grandfather after all. He was clearly getting worse – he hadn’t spoken to “Albert” like that in front of him before. Had he been doing so in Warren and Bernice’s presence and they didn’t tell him?
Finding Doc Brown was becoming a good idea, not only for Olivia but for Grandpa. He couldn’t leave his cousin to deal with their grandfather alone, not when he was this far gone. And he’d sure like to know who told him about Olivia and her memory loss. It was no one’s business but hers.
“Do you know what the doctor looks like?” Olivia asked.
He stopped short. “Um, no, actually. I haven’t met him yet.” He studied the people around them. “There’s Daniel Weaver. Let’s ask him.” He was about to head over when Olivia tugged on his sleeve. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just that … I don’t think Daniel cares for me much.”
George looked at Daniel. He was tall like his brothers but not as broad. He seemed nice enough. “What? Nonsense.”
She smiled weakly. “Couldn’t we find Ma Hughes instead?”
“I can ask him if you like. You can stay here.”
“Do you mind?”
He slipped his arm from hers and faced her. “Not at all, if it will make you more comfortable. But I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Neither do I.” She looked Daniel’s way and back. “It’s just that sometimes I feel uncomfortable around the Weaver men. “I can’t explain it, it’s just … as if I irritate them. Like they’re angry with me for something, but I don’t know what. I must be a burden somehow.”
“What a terrible thing to suggest. You? Never.” He took her hand and patted it. “Don’t worry, I’ll find Dr. Brown for you.”
She smiled in relief. He nodded, released her hand and made his way toward Daniel.
“Howdy again, Mr. Johnson.” Daniel lifted his glass of punch, looking past George at Olivia. “You and her, uh … gettin’ along?”
“Fine,” George waved at Olivia, who waved back. “She’s a lovely woman.”
Daniel choked on his punch, sputtering and gasping for breath.
“Great Scott, man!” George said. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” Daniel rasped as he pounded his chest. He swallowed a few times, his face red. “Woo-ee. Must’ve gone down the wrong way.”
George eyed him. “Yes, it must have.”
“Ya enjoyin’ yerself?” Daniel asked, staring at his punch. He seemed to be wondering whether to take another crack at it.
“Yes, very much. I’m looking for Dr. Brown, though – could you be so kind as to point him out to me?”
“Sure.” Daniel surveyed the crowd. “There he is, over by the band. Looks like the dancin’s about to start, and I ain’t eaten nothin’ yet. If ya’ll excuse me?” He turned to the food tables.
“Certainly.” George nodded as Daniel left, then realized he hadn’t asked which man Doc Brown was. There were several speaking with the musicians. Well, he’d just have to ask someone else.
He returned to Olivia. “Come along. I know where he is.” He offered his arm again, and his chest warmed when she took it and smiled. She seemed nervous at times, but once he got her talking she relaxed. He’d never been around a woman with whom he felt this comfortable, not even Victoria. Maybe it was time he not only stepped back into the world, but stayed in it.
They reached the men speaking with the fiddlers by the small stage. The Christmas dance consisted of a huge potluck followed by the dance, so the musicians were still tuning their instruments in preparation. George cleared his throat, and several men turned to look at him. “Excuse me, but which of you fine gentlemen is Dr. Brown?”
“I’m Doc Brown,” a man with salt-and-pepper hair and plenty of lines around his eyes said. “What can I do for ya?”
“I’m George Johnson and this is Miss Olivia Bridger. May we have a word with you?”
Doc Brown squinted at him a moment. “Ohhhh, you must be Warren’s cousin come to visit.”
“Yes, that’s right. Warren told you?”
“No, Nellie Davis. Nothing gets past that woman. So what do ya need?”
George motioned him away from the other men. “Please, if you don’t mind?”
“No, of course not.” He followed George and Olivia to a corner of the huge room.
George turned to Doc Brown as soon as they stopped. “I think Miss Bridger should speak first.”
“Oh, but …” she started.
Doc Brown held up his hand. “I know about Miss Bridger – Ma Weaver told me. I’ll be speaking with ya tomorrow. Ya feeling all right for the moment?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
“No headaches?”
“Not right now, no. If I overdo things, I get one.”
“Mmm, understandable.”
“She told you about …?”
“Ma told me enough.” He turned to George. “And what about you? Something ailing ya?”
“Uh, well, it’s my grandfather.”
“Samuel? What’s the matter with him now?”
George was taken aback. “Now? You mean you’ve seen him recently?”
The doctor sighed. “Most every time he comes to town. I’m surprised Warren didn’t tell ya.”
“Must have slipped his mind.”
“A good description of yer grandfather’s problem.”
George stared at him. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “So he is losing his faculties?”
“Slowly, but he’s seventy-six now. It’s bound to happen. I’m sixty and I can’t remember things as well as I used to. I’d say Samuel isn’t doing too bad.”
“But what about …” George glanced this way and that. “Albert?”
“Albert?” Doc Brown raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Who’s Albert?”
George sighed. “Um, his invisible friend.”
Doc Brown’s eyes went wide. “I see.” He glanced between them. “That’s new.”
“So Warren and Bernice haven’t told you?”
“Not this.” Doc Brown shook his head. “Poor Sam.”
“Oh, Dr. Brooooown!” someone called.
“Oh for the love of …,” Doc Brown said under his breath. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?”
George nodded as an older woman approached. “Doc Brown, there you are. You really ought to check on the Riley children while their mothers are here.”
“And why is that, Nellie?” Doc Brown grumbled.
“Well, if you ask me, they look all sorts of pale. They ought not to be in public at all, I think.”
He sighed again and glanced around the hall. “Where are they? I’ll have a look.”
She pointed at a small group of women across the room, each with a child in their arms. “Over there. Little Charlie has the sniffles!”
Doc forced a smile and nodded. “I’ll get on it right away, Nellie. Say hello to Mr. Davis for me.”
“Oh, do it yourself. He’s around here somewhere. Just check out those children!” She spun on her heel and marched away.
“Who was that?” George asked.
“That was Nellie Davis, the town gossip. She used to be far worse, but she’s calmed down a lot. Now she just annoys me and the sheriff by informing us about possible epidemics and criminal activity – most of it imagined. Sheriff Riley gets it much worse than I do.”
Olivia giggled. “Does that mean you’re checking on the Sheriff’s children? The name is the same.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact it does,” he sighed. “Nellie will pester me until I do.”
George laughed. “Warren told me about Mrs. Davis. But my mind’s been on Grandpa.”
“Speaking of which,” the doc said, “bring him by tomorrow and I’ll speak with him. Bring Warren and Bernice too, if ya can manage it. There are things ya can do.”
“Thank you, Doctor, I will.” George watched the doctor head across the town hall to the group of women, shaking his head all the way.
“My goodness,” Olivia said. “I’ve never heard of a reformed gossip.”
“Me neither,” he replied. “Though I can’t say I really know any personally. But Warren told me about Mrs. Davis and her daughter, who also changed her ways and far more dramatically.”
She shook her head. “It still surprises me. People don’t change, do they?”
“Of course they do. Some, anyway.” The music started, and George smiled and took her hand. “Miss Bridger, would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Olivia smiled shyly back. “Of course.”
With a grin, George led her toward the dance floor.
* * *
Olivia was having such a good time. George Johnson was handsome, charming and attentive, and a good dancer besides. They fit together like a hand in a glove, and she wished the evening could go on forever. The music, the dancing and the friendly people of the little town of Nowhere made everything so special. And it was all so new, as if she was experiencing it for the first time. Though surely she’d attended dances before – she seemed to know all the steps. If only she could remember how she learned.
They took a break, and George went to fetch them more punch while he waited next to the Christmas tree in the far corner from the stage. She smoothed her skirt and thought of the next dance.
“You look happy,” Samijo said as she joined her. “Where’s Mr. Johnson?”
Olivia opened her eyes, only then realizing she’d closed them. “He went to the refreshment table.”
“That color looks good on you,” Samijo said.
Olivia smiled. Like most of the other Weavers, Samijo was pleasant enough, but gave the impression that something was brewing beneath the surface, as if they were all waiting for Olivia to do something. But what? She had no idea. “It was nice of Charity to loan this to me. It’s a lovely dress.” She glanced at the refreshment table. George was still getting their drinks.
“Mr. Johnson looks like he’s having a good time,” Samijo commented as she admired the tree.”
“Yes, he does. He’s a wonderful dancer.”
“Are you?”
Olivia stared at her. “I suppose. But then, most everyone knows how to dance.”
“Well, that’s one more thing you know now. Can you cook?”
Olivia smiled. “I have no idea.”
“We should find out this week. You’ve rested enough. Would you mind helping out around the house?”
“Not at all, I’d be glad to help. It’s the least I can do.”
Samijo smiled and nodded. “Good. I’ll tell Ma.” She left without another word.
“Huh,” Olivia muttered in her wake. “How strange.”
“What is?” George asked, handing her a glass of punch.
“Samijo. She was …” Olivia shrugged. “… just here and gone.” Like she doesn’t want to be around me if she doesn’t have to be. Am I too much a burden on the family? Are they going through rough times? But from what she’d seen so far, the Weavers did quite well for themselves. They were almost completely self-sufficient.
“Don’t let it bother you,” George assured her. “You have to remember, you, uh, don’t remember.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s all right – I see your point.” She spotted Samijo talking to the Riley women – Doc Brown must have already finished with them. “I can’t help but feel like they know something I don’t. I couldn’t begin to tell you what.”
“Then don’t. It’s probably nothing.” He pointed at his head. “It’s probably all up here.”
“I hope you don’t mean like your grandfather.”
“Mercy, no. Grandpa is another matter entirely.” He glanced around. “Where is he, I wonder?”
“I haven’t seen him for a time. Not since the dancing started.”
“Well, he’ll turn up.” He studied her a moment. “I must say, this has been a lovely evening. Thank you for allowing me to keep you entertained thus far.”
“Thus far? Are you planning on stopping?”
“No, not at all. But I also don’t want to keep you from, um … anyone else.”
She smiled. “You’re not.”
George grinned. “Well then, shall we have another dance?”
“Why, Mr. Johnson, that’s four. What will people think?”
His grin broadened. “They’ll think that I must be an admirer of yours.”
She blushed head to toe. Neither of them had danced with anyone else, which made clear his intentions toward her. What would people say? Did she care? Her main concern was finding out her past, remembering who she was. Maybe she should care more? What if she was ... oh dear, a loose woman!
“What’s the matter?” he asked with concern.
Olivia took a breath. “Nothing!”
He cocked his head to one side. “You’re an odd one at times, Olivia Bridger.” He set his glass on a nearby tray. “But I like you. Shall we have another go?” He motioned to the dance floor.
She shuddered. She had no idea what her morals were in the past. She had a sense of propriety now, but …
“Olivia,” he said gently. “We don’t have to.”
She met his concerned gaze. He was looking out for her. “Perhaps we should sit this one out.”
He smiled. “Of course, if that’s what you want. Hungry?”
She put her hand on her belly. “Yes. Something to eat, then.”
He offered her his arm and they headed for the food tables. Daniel and Ebba were there, filling their plates – or in Daniel’s case, refilling. “Hello again,” George said happily. He looked at the sumptuous platters of food and sighed. “If only I could find a woman who could cook like this for me.”
Ebba looked up from spooning potatoes onto her plate. “In smaller portions I hope.”
“Yes, of course.” He winked at Olivia. “Do you cook?”
“Funny, Samijo asked me the same thing earlier. I guess I’ll find out this week.”
“We’ll help you,” Ebba promised.
“I remembered how to dance,” she said. “I’m sure cooking will be no different.” While she hadn’t offered to help with the cooking the last few days, she had volunteered to clean up after meals. But Ma would have none of it and insisted she rest. The next few days would be telling.
“Isn’t it wonderful to know that cooking can be learned?” George asked. “Maybe I ought to take a few lessons. I could do with a little improvement.”
“You cook?” Olivia said in surprise. “Oh, but of course you do. I’m sorry.”
“By necessity. Clarence can cook too. Though neither of us are very good at it.”
Olivia smiled nervously. “That’s all right. I have a feeling I’m not very good at it either.” But it still rankled that she didn’t know one way or the other.
* * *
“Looks like George Johnson and Olivia are getting along,” Harlan commented to Ma. “In fact, it looks like they’re more than getting along.”
“Yes, I noticed it too. We should put a stop to it, at least until we find out if she’s looking for that no-good husband of hers.”
“Mary,” Harlan replied. “I hadn’t noticed any displays of animosity from you toward her until now.”
Ma took a sip of coffee. “I was busy nursing the poor woman back to health. She’s much better. But her memory … who knows when it’ll come back?”
Harlan sighed. “I hate to say it, but I like her just the way she is. Maybe it could stay away a while longer?”
“We don’t have control over such things and you know it.”
“True. But I’ve seen this before, now that I’ve had time to think about it.”
Her jaw dropped. “You have?”
“Yeah, must have been twenty years ago. Logan Kincaid – foreman for the Triple-C Ranch? – his wife Susara lost her memory for weeks. Got hit hard on the head by some lecher, as I recall. Some Indians found her and Logan happen to run across them. They gave her to him and the rest is history.”
“What history? Did she ever get her memory back?”
“Yep. By some miracle a woman in town happen to know Susara from years before. She called her by her full name and it all came back. Of course, by then Susara had at least remembered her Christian name, but not much else.”
Ma stared at him in wonder. “So Olivia could remember everything just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Yep.”
“Land sakes, I hope not.”
“But wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“I doubt it – she might be mad as a rattler when she does. She was so unpleasant years ago – who knows what she’s turned into since? Poor Mr. Johnson. Someone really ought to warn him.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t. He seems to be having a good time. And it’s only one night.”
“You forget he’s spending Christmas with us?”
“Oh, that’s right. This is a pickle.” Harlan munched on a cookie. “Should we tell him she’s married?”
“We don’t know she is. What if that Burr fellow passed away in the pokey?”
“Hmmm, good Point. Maybe I should talk with Sheriff Riley – he was in charge back then, wasn’t he? And didn’t Tom Turner arrest him?”
“Yes, Tom was a deputy back then.” She sighed. “I miss Tom and Rose. Nice couple.”
“I miss him too,” Harlan confessed. “I’ve known Tom since his was just a little shaver.” He took another bite. “Tell you what, I’ll go speak with Sheriff Riley while you figure out a way to tell Warren’s cousin he might not want to take too much of a shine to Olivia.”
“How am I going to do that?”
“I don’t know. You’ll think of something.”
She nodded in resignation. “You’re right. I always do. Harlan?”
“Yes?”
Mary turned to him. “What if Olivia and George … I mean, if they really set their caps for each other and he finds out she’s married, or she does … oh, this has trouble written all over it.” She frowned and went to break the pair up.