6. Isabella
6
ISABELLA
T ravis’s question stirred a pit of unease in her stomach. She’d combed through her memories for hours yesterday and hadn’t come up with a single detail about a wedding or even a husband.
She would know those things without a shadow of a doubt, right?
Isabella lifted her left hand, showing the lack of a ring on her finger. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”
“I think if you were married, your husband would have found you by now.”
Isabella stared at her hand as a fissure snaked through the cage of her chest. If she wasn’t married, why was she so heartbroken? It was hard to miss something you didn’t know to miss.
Travis straightened his back and shifted his feet, his boots scuffing softly against the tile floor. “Do you want me to leave?”
Isabella blinked through the haze clouding her thoughts and looked up at him. He was handsome–something she’d noticed immediately. That was probably why it was so difficult to look at him while they talked. His voice was deep and strong, yet gentle and soothing. It made her want to talk just to hear him respond.
“No. I’m glad you’re here. I can’t imagine how scared I would have been if I’d been alone when I woke up for the first time yesterday morning.”
“Well, you were pretty scared, even though I was here,” Travis pointed out.
“But you were so calm, and you took the time to help me understand what was going on. I appreciate that.”
A slow, guarded grin spread on Travis’s lips. He had such a friendly face, it was easy to trust him. He radiated peace when her world was a mass of confusion.
“Does it help if I ask questions? It might spark a memory.”
Isabella shrugged and instantly regretted it. Every muscle in her body was sore. She’d been lucky to not have broken bones, but the pain was enough.
Travis’s brow pinched together. “You said you know your parents. What do you remember about them?”
She’d spent plenty of time mulling over what she knew of her parents, but the reality was still fuzzy. “I’m not really sure. I know I don’t like my dad, but Mom… I don’t know how I feel about her.”
“Do you know why you don’t like your dad?” Travis asked.
A fire akin to rage threatened to strangle her. Fighting with her dad with words and fists. The emotions felt old but still intense.
“We fought a lot. I know he hit me when I was a kid, and things got worse when I was older.”
Travis’s hand fisted on his knee. “That’s plenty of reason not to like him. I don’t like him either,” he said low and steady.
Isabella pressed her lips together. “I’m not going to act like I’m a saint. I’m pretty strong-willed.”
“There’s no excuse, Isabella. Ever.”
Her name in Travis’s voice infused strength into her heart. She hadn’t been innocent, but she would never think to act on violence the way her dad did unless it was self-defense. “I know,” she whispered.
Travis gave her a single nod, satisfied that they were on the same page when it came to domestic violence. “Do you think he gave you that black eye?”
Isabella tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Travis propped his arms on his thighs and linked his fingers together. “It’s kind of strange to have a black eye from a car wreck, especially when your head wound is on the other side.”
She touched the bandage on her head, dragging IV tubes as she moved. The nurses had said plenty about her head injury, but no one had mentioned a black eye. It had been easy to avoid the mirror in the bathroom. The pain captivated all of her attention, and everything had been a blur since she woke up.
Travis pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons before handing it to her. The camera was turned toward her, and she gasped at the image of herself.
Deep purple surrounded her eye, and her cheekbone was swollen beneath it. It wasn’t the worst black eye she’d seen, but it was definitely the mark of a fist.
She ran her fingertips over the puffy flesh. She looked terrible. Of course this handsome man would see her like this. His beard was well kept, and his clothes were clean and sharp, while she lay in a hospital gown with tangled hair, beaten and bruised.
“It’s possible,” she conceded as she handed the phone back to him. Looking at herself would only crumble her self-esteem.
Travis took the phone and slid it back into his pocket. “Maybe that’s why you don’t know how you feel about your mom. Maybe she didn’t protect you from him.”
A gaping hole caved her chest in–a hollowness that she could easily fall into and disappear. “Probably. When I think of my mom, I just feel… sad.”
Travis hesitated before asking, “You think she’s alive?”
She’d tried her best to answer that already. She would remember if her mom died, right? Those memories would hold enough pain to linger, wouldn’t they?
“I’m not sure, but I know I don’t have any memories of a funeral. So I think she’s alive.”
“That’s good. What about where you live? Are you from Blackwater?”
Isabella’s brows crowded together. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Blackwater.”
“It’s where we found you. I work for the Blackwater Fire Department.”
It didn’t make sense. “Where is it?”
“We’re in Cody right now, but Blackwater is a little northeast of here.”
“What state? I don’t recognize any of those places.”
“Wyoming.”
Isabella stared in disbelief. “I’m from Omaha.”
Travis frowned back at her. “You mean the other side of Nebraska? That’s a good twelve-hour drive from here. Maybe more.”
She placed a hand gently on the bandage covering the side of her head. How had she gotten so far from home?
“Is there a chance you could’ve been taken? I mean, human trafficking is a real possibility, especially for young women.”
Her hand slipped to her throat. Had she been taken? Was that why she would have been left for dead? Her chest grew tighter as her lungs constricted.
Travis scooted closer and spoke softly. “Easy. Try to even out your breaths.”
“I–I don’t know. I can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t be looking for me.”
“You said your parents are in Omaha. Do you want me to see if I can find them?” Travis asked.
Hope filled her lungs like a balloon. “I guess so. Well, I’m not sure.”
“You’re afraid to go back to your dad?” he asked, careful to word the question with grace instead of judgment.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know how old I am. Maybe I don’t live in Omaha anymore. How long have I been here?”
Travis glanced at the clock on the wall. “We found you around eight thirty Monday morning. The call came in about half an hour before that, so someone had found you at least by then.”
“So, a few days that we know of?” Isabella repeated.
Travis nodded. “I’m sorry I don’t know more.”
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. Can you tell me some things about Blackwater? Maybe that’ll spark some memories.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Are you from there?” she asked.
His eyes darkened, and his gaze shifted to the clock again. “I’ve lived there a while, but I’m originally from Seattle.”
Isabella scoffed. “Wow. We started out so far apart,” she pointed out.
Travis looked up at her and the shadows in his eyes lifted. “But we met in the middle.”
It was a calming thought–that they’d been brought together by some divine force. She certainly had no clue how she’d gotten here, but there had to be a reason.
He fidgeted his thumbs as he continued. “It’s a lot like any other small town. The people are great. I love my job, but thankfully we don’t have a ton of calls.”
“Do you have a family?” she ventured to ask. Taking all the focus off her might help her mind relax enough to remember something.
“I do, but they’re back in Seattle. I moved here alone.”
So, no wife then. She shouldn’t care, but it was nice to know this stranger wasn’t missing out on time with his family to babysit her.
And he was handsome. It wouldn’t be right to admire another woman’s husband.
“Tell me about your friends,” she said, guiding the conversation to safe topics.
“I have a roommate. Gage is a mechanic, and we sometimes work together at a nearby ranch in our off time.”
“You work in your off time? That’s not off time,” Isabella pointed out.
Travis shrugged. “What else am I going to do?”
“Hang out with your friends,” she offered.
“I do plenty of that. I work with most of my friends.”
Isabella picked at a seam on the bedsheet. Did she have a job? Why didn’t she have a phone or a purse? They had to be somewhere.
Travis glanced at the clock again. “I guess I should go if I’m going to make it to work on time.”
A pang of sorrow shot through her chest. She wasn’t ready for him to leave, but she couldn’t ask him to stay. The moments alone were the worst. She had way too much time to sit around, and her worries roamed free.
“Thank you for coming,” she said softly.
Travis flashed her a sweet smile before standing. “Do you need anything? I can bring you something the next time I come. That is, if you want me to come back.”
The hesitation in his voice probably mirrored her own indecision. What was he doing here? He didn’t have to check on her.
“You can come back if you want to, but please don’t feel obligated. I’m sure I’ll start remembering things soon, and I’ll be on my way home.”
Wow. It was as if she’d put all of her false hopes into a few sentences. Did she believe any of it? Should she even want him to come back? He was a stranger. How stupid would it be if she trusted him after only a few quick meetings?
Travis reached for a napkin on the tray table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He wrote something down and scooted it over the surface toward her. “Here’s my number if you need anything. I’m sure you can make calls from the room phone.”
She’d noticed the phone, but what good would it do her if she didn’t know anyone’s phone number?
Now, she had one–a lifeline she wanted to cling to. He was the only person she had any sort of link to in this world, and the loneliness sat heavy on her chest.
Isabella brushed her fingertips over the neat numbers. “Thanks.”
Travis motioned like he was tipping a cowboy hat. “See you again soon, Isabella.”
“You can call me Bella,” she said quickly. Her mom had always made a big deal about her full name, claiming people should call her by her given name and not some nickname. Few people had ever called her anything other than Isabella.
She wanted to give Travis something special–a unique part of her–in exchange for his kindness.
Travis nodded once and whispered, “Bella.”
Yes, asking him to call her by a shortened name was a good choice.
He gave her one last glance before walking out the door. As soon as he was gone, she felt his absence like a gaping hole had opened up in her chest.
He was gone now. He had things to do and places to be, but she’d wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay.