Rain Dance. Rebecca Daniels
like the doctor.”
“Oh, Lord, don’t tell me that!” Carrie said with a cackle. Reaching out, she patted Rain on the arm. “You feeling a little better about things now?”
Rain laughed. “I’m not sure if I feel better or if I’m just tired of thinking about it. But the doctor was very kind—you’ve all been.”
“Well, Cruz—he’s the best. We may not have a lot to brag about here in Mesa Ridge, but we can brag about him,” Carrie said, reaching for the lunch tray. “Why don’t you try to take another little nap now. I’ll get this out of the way—” She stopped as she glanced down at the empty tray. “Well, will you look at this—another clean plate. You know, if you aren’t careful, those people in the kitchen are going to start thinking you like the food around here. Then we’ll all have to suffer for it.”
Rain smiled, liking the feeling and liking the sturdily built nurse and her no-nonsense manner. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I can’t seem to get enough.”
“Well, darlin’, there’s nothing the matter. This is exactly what you need,” Carrie said, pulling a thermometer out of the cabinet beside the bed and giving it a violent shake. “Some regular meals and a whole lot of rest.” She popped the thermometer into Rain’s mouth. “I understand you managed to get in a short nap before lunch, too.”
Unable to speak with the thermometer in her mouth, Rain nodded. There had been just enough time after she’d returned to her room after her appointment with the doctor for a catnap before they brought her lunch. It hadn’t been a very long nap, just long enough for her mind and body to rest and her subconscious to dream and conjure up images of a man—tall, dark and mysterious. He had been reaching out to her with strong, powerful arms and she’d felt warm and secure in his embrace.
She had awakened from her nap feeling strangely comforted and calmed by the dream. Did she know the man? Was he someone from the life she’d forgotten, someone who would be looking for her?
“Then I’d say that’s just what the doctor ordered,” Carrie was saying in response to her nod. “A little rest and relaxation and you’ll be as good as new.” She pulled the thermometer from Rain’s mouth and squinted to read it. “How’s your head feeling?”
Rain touched the tender spot on the top of her head and winced. “Oh, it’s still there.”
Carrie’s smile faded as she peered through her bifocals to take a look. “It certainly is.” Shifting her gaze to Rain, her eyes narrowed. “How’s the headache?”
“Still there, too,” she admitted, sinking back against the pillows. “But better.”
“Feel up to a little company?”
Rain sat up straight. Had someone come for her? Was she going to find out who she was and where she belonged?
“C-company? You mean someone—”
“The sheriff, sweetheart,” Carrie added quickly. “Sheriff Mountain.”
“The sheriff,” Rain said in a small voice. Feeling the sting of tears, she quickly looked away. “I thought…”
“I’m sorry, dear, I—” Carrie reached out, giving her hand a squeeze. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay,” Rain assured her even though a large tear spilled onto her cheek.
Carrie squeezed her hand again. “Why don’t I tell him to come back a little later? Maybe this isn’t the best time….”
“No, that’s okay,” she insisted, swiping at the tear. “Tell the sheriff to come in. I’d like to see him. I’d at least like to thank him.”
Carrie regarded her for a moment. “You sure you’re up to this?”
Rain nodded, giving her a small smile. “Absolutely.”
Carrie looked unconvinced. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Carrie,” Rain said, stopping her as she started toward the door. “Sheriff Mountain—he’s the one who gave me my name, isn’t he?”
Carrie nodded. “Yes, he did. You going to give him a hard time about that?”
Rain smiled and shook her head. “No, I like my name.”
Carrie smiled, too, and turned back toward the door. “You talk to the sheriff and I’ll see what I can do about finding you a little something sweet to tide you over until dinner. Okay?”
Rain felt herself smiling again. “You’ll get no argument from me.”
She watched as Carrie sailed out the door and down the corridor, then sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She thought of the dream she’d had, thought of the man who had held her and made her feel wanted and safe. Had the tall stranger come looking for her? Would he hold her and whisper to her and make everything feel better again? Would he give her back her name, her identity, her life?
“Hello.”
Chapter 3
Rain opened her eyes and felt every nerve in her body come to full alert. She didn’t know what she’d expected when Carrie had told her the sheriff was there to see her, wasn’t even sure she had any sort of expectation at all. Somewhere in the back of her brain she’d conjured up images of a badges and uniforms and guns in black holsters, but whatever she’d imagined, a tall Native American with long black hair and dark, haunting eyes wasn’t it.
She realized in that moment the stranger from her dreams, the man to whom she had turned to for comfort, the man who had held her and in whose arms she had felt so secure was a stranger no longer. He wasn’t someone from her past, someone who could tell her who she was and where she belonged. The stranger from her dreams was from the here and the now. He wasn’t someone she’d imagined or made up in her head, he was real—and he had a name and a face.
“Sheriff Mountain.”
He stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders and powerful frame all but swallowing up the space.
“Joe Mountain,” he said by way of introduction.
“And I’m…well, I’m Rain,” she said with a small laugh. She sat up, pushing a hand through her hair and wondering what she’d done with the comb Carrie had given her. “But I guess you already know that since I understand you’re the one who named me.”
If he was embarrassed, or pleased by the acknowledgment, it didn’t show in his expression. In fact, nothing showed on his hard, lean face and Rain felt herself growing tense.
“May I come in?” he asked politely.
Her first reaction had been to refuse, to put him off and turn him away, but that was not only unreasonable, it was irrational. For some thoroughly inexplicable reason, she found herself hesitant, reluctant—almost shy about facing him.
She couldn’t explain it. The whole thing was crazy. The man was only there to help her, was probably her best hope at putting her life back together. She had nothing to fear from him. He’d found her in the desert, had gotten her the help she’d needed. At the very least, she needed to thank him for saving her life. And besides that, she needed to talk to him, she wanted to talk to him. She had questions she’d hoped he could answer, concerns she’d hoped he’d address. So what was her problem? Why was her throat freezing up and the palms of her hands turning moist?
The dream. That stupid, silly little dream she’d had during her nap. He’d been in it, had been the tall dark stranger in her dream, the one who had touched her and held her and made her feel safe and warm. She felt like she knew him, like she meant something special to him and that was ridiculous. She felt embarrassed. The man was a stranger to her and she to him and there was nothing special about that.
“Of course,” she said, doing as best she could to push her apprehension