A Wyoming Christmas To Remember. Melissa Senate
She had no doubt she’d always loved Christmas. “I’d like to go check it out. Since I worked there, maybe it’ll ring a bell.”
“You’ll call me or text me if you feel overwhelmed or want to go home?” he asked. “I’ll come get you right away.”
She nodded, scrolling through her contacts on her phone. “Yup, there you are. Sawyer—cell and work.” Her family was in there too. And a bunch of other people whose names she didn’t recognize.
“I’ll drop you there, then go check in at the station for a bit,” he said. “We can meet up when you’re ready to go home.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
They headed back downstairs, and he handed Maddie her down jacket and scarf and put on a heavy brown leather jacket. He stood in front of the door, and Maddie had the feeling he almost didn’t want to let her go, that he liked having her in the house, their house. She wondered if he was worried about their marriage, if their impasse had gotten even bigger than their shared history, their love.
And she wondered if, when her memory did return, they’d be right back in that snowy moment outside the mediator’s office.
According to Sawyer, thirty-eight degrees in Wyoming in December was practically springlike, so they decided to walk the couple of blocks into town. He’d mentioned that the police station was just another half mile down. Wedlock Creek was bustling, people going in and out of stores, carrying bright bags with wrapped gifts poking out. The moment they arrived on the corner of Main Street, they were mobbed by well-wishers.
“It’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” one woman said, reaching for Maddie’s mittened hand. “We were all so worried. No one more than Sawyer, of course. And maybe your mom and dad.”
Sawyer smiled. “You’re right, Brenna,” he said, making a point of her name.
Maddie caught on quickly that, after the third such back-and-forth, Sawyer was covering for her lack of memory, and luckily, acquaintances were giving something of a wide berth since she’d gotten out of the hospital only that afternoon. “Do I know everyone?” she asked as they finally headed across the street toward MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.
“Yup. Both of us do. Wedlock Creek is a small town, and we’ve lived here our entire lives. And I’m the chief of police, so everyone knows me. We knew everyone without that added to the mix.”
Maddie looked up at the pastel painted sign atop the length of her family’s business. A family walked past—with two red-haired identical twin girls. A woman wheeling a triple stroller was across the street. Multiples everywhere. Including right here—me, she thought.
“Your dad made the sign and painted it,” Sawyer said. “He’s quite a craftsman. He hand makes all the furniture MacLeod’s sells, cribs and bassinets and other wood items. He has a big following.”
“How wonderful,” she said, admiring the sign and the easel out front listing a colorful array of items in someone’s excellent handwriting. Everything from personalization to layettes to baby paraphernalia to children’s clothing. She watched two women wheeling twin strollers go inside the shop; two more came out carrying big yellow shopping bags with the MacLeod’s logo.
“I’ll probably be thirty minutes or so,” she said to Sawyer. “I’ll just visit the store and say hi to my family if they’re there. I don’t think I’ll walk around town just yet on my own in case I run into someone who knows me and I have no idea who they are. Seems so complicated to explain about my memory.”
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up here in thirty minutes.”
She smiled, and he leaned over awkwardly and kissed her on the cheek. He hesitated before pulling back, and she had the feeling he’d wanted to embrace her. More than embrace—hold her, tightly. Frankly, she could use a hug.
“See you in a bit,” she said, those flutters in her belly again, and darted into the shop. She turned back to see Sawyer watching her as if to make sure she was okay. She gave a wave and walked in farther. When she looked back, he was finally heading up the street.
The shop was both elegant and folksy at the same time and separated into sections for clothing and furniture and baby paraphernalia. The place was pretty crowded too; Maddie could see two saleswomen with MacLeod’s name tags helping shoppers.
“Maddie!”
She turned to find her twin, Jenna, smiling and rushing up to her. She and Jenna really did look a lot alike. They both had the same blue eyes and slightly long nose, wavy light brown hair past their shoulders. Jenna wore a dark purple maternity wrap dress and gray suede knee-high boots, lots of gold bangles on her arm. And a gold wedding band and solitaire diamond ring.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Jenna said, straightening a huge stuffed giraffe. “Feeling all right?”
“I feel pretty good. A little weird not knowing anything about myself—okay, a lot weird. I figured I’d come check out the family business. Do you work here too?”
Jenna nodded. “I’m a saleswoman, and let me tell you, the huge belly helps. Five minutes ago, I sold three personalized cribs—the ones our dad famously hand makes—and then the mom and her mom came back a minute later and added the triple bassinets they were waffling on. And then the mom bought three of these,” she said, pointing to three big stuffed bear chairs with pink or blue bow ties around their necks.
“Ooh, you are good. Did I work on the floor too?”
“Nah, you’re more a back-office type. You’re not a pushy schmoozer like me.”
Maddie laughed. “Speaking of pushy, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She leaned a bit closer to whisper. “Was I pushing Sawyer to have a baby?”
Jenna’s smile faltered. “Maddie, I love you. You’re my sister, my twin. But you don’t remember anything about your life, and I’m not sure I should fill in details that are personal between you and your husband.”
Maddie thought about that. “I get it. How about details about my husband. He said we grew up next door to each other.”
“More like Sawyer grew up in our house. He’s been an honorary MacLeod since he was five, when he and his dad moved into the in-law apartment of our neighbors’ house. The Wolfe door opened very close to our side porch, so that’s how you and Sawyer became such good friends. Apparently I was anti boy, but you adored Sawyer from the get-go.”
“He and his dad lived in an in-law apartment? With his dad’s in-laws?”
Jenna shook her head. “No. That’s just what one-or two-bedroom apartments attached to private homes are called. They were usually meant for parents or in-laws as they aged. The neighbors back then were friendly with Sawyer’s mom, so they felt terrible about the situation and gave his dad a big break on rent.”
“What situation?” Maddie asked.
A shopper walked up to them. “Excuse me, is it possible to get those adorable little cowboy hats personalized for my impending triplet nephews?”
Jenna nodded at the woman. “Personalization is MacLeod’s specialty. I set aside two of those hats for my little babies-to-be—a girl and boy. My husband and I still can’t agree on names, so the personalization will have to wait.”
The woman laughed. “Names are the one thing my husband and I do agree on.” She put three impossibly tiny leather cowboy hats in her basket and continued on in the stuffed animal area.
Jenna led Maddie over near the checkout desk away from the shoppers. “Sawyer’s mom died from complications after his birth. His dad raised him alone. Well, he tried, I guess. But he really wasn’t