"Then, how…" He followed her gaze to the glimmering gold on the nightstand, recalling all the strange, unexplainable things he'd experienced in connection with that pendant, and with her.
"The medallion," she said, confirming his thoughts. "It links me to my Superiors. Without it on, the medallion could no longer protect my memory." She glanced back at him, her gaze overflowing with love. "My feelings for you are too strong to be suppressed without the medallion."
His anger ebbed away, replaced by a reluctant curiosity. "Changing your name and identity is understandable under the circumstances, but why would your… Superiors suppress your memory of your past with me?"
"Conflict of interest. We're eternal soulmates. They felt if they sent me on the mission without suppressing my memory, my feelings for you would cloud my judgment." She gave him a small, bittersweet smile. "I'm afraid they were right. My love for you is so powerful, it's distracted me from the very beginning of the mission. I've been acting more like a mortal than a guardian angel."
J.T. scrubbed a hand over his jaw, absorbing everything she'd told him. He, too, had experienced that powerful link to her, the awesome need to make her his in every elemental way possible. He could no longer chalk it up to lust; the connection had gone beyond sex, to the very core of him.
"So," he said on an exhalation of breath, "you really aren't a guest at Parson's, are you?"
"Yes… I mean no," she amended, shaking her head.
"Which is it?" he asked, irritation creeping back in.
"It's all part of the mission."
"How convenient." His dry tone held a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Caitlan twisted toward him, anger flaring in her eyes. "You were going to die out in the middle of nowhere! You should be grateful that I was able to reach you in time."
He could have died. Someone had meantfor him to die. And Caitlan had undoubtedly saved him. Springing from the bed, he paced to the other end of the room, a deluge of questions overwhelming him. "How did you really get me to the line shack?"
As if remembering the outrageous tale she'd told him of dragging him to the shack, she lowered her eyes to her lap. "My Superiors helped."
A derisive smile quirked his mouth. "Heavenly intervention?"
"Yes." She shrugged, her hand absently smoothing over the quilt, tracing the intricate pattern his mother had created over three decades before. "Once we got you to the shack, Chris mended your head wound and I worked to get your fever under control." She looked back up, her gaze intense on his face. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it."
J.T. rubbed at the tense muscles across his shoulders. "I don't understand. Why all the trouble to save me?"
"It wasn't your time to pass on to the next plateau." Standing, she padded soundlessly across the floor to him, her brow creased in concern.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
He stared down at Caitlan, drowning in those incredible violet eyes. He breathed deeply, dragging the warm, feminine scent of her into his lungs. God, he wanted her. Again. Regardless of the turmoil between them. That familiar tug pulled on his soul. He stubbornly blocked the feeling. "Come on, Caitlan. You have to admit, this whole scenario is a little bizarre. Even if I didbelieve in guardian angels, I think you're stretching the story a bit by claiming to be Amanda."
Her lips pursed. "I am Amanda."
"Okay," he relented, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me about Amanda."
Holding his gaze steadily, she proceeded to tell him about the pictures she'd sketched on her mission, and how they matched exactly the drawings he kept in the cigar box in the office, the ones Amanda had drawn of him when she was alive.
A shiver snaked down J.T.'s spine when he realized how close he'd been to discovering that particular truth when Kirk had interrupted him with his call for help. Then again, he rationalized, Caitlan could have reproduced the drawings as she'd originally claimed when he'd confronted her out in the meadow with the pictures she'd created in her sketch pad.
He couldn't shake his doubts, maybe because it was the only anchor he had left to reality. "Not good enough. Tell me something no one else but Amanda and I would know."
She looked thoughtful for a moment, as if sifting through memories. Then she smiled widely, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "The pie," she said.
"The pie?" he echoed, frowning.
She grasped his hand, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Johnny, don't you remember? We were just kids. Your mother made three apple pies and set them on the kitchen counter to cool. We stole one of them, along with a half gallon of ice cream and-"
"Ate all of it down by the creek," he finished, stunned by the recollection of the ancient memory.
She laughed, the sound sweet and pure to his ears. "We got so sick! We were both afraid of getting in trouble, so we buried the pie tin and the empty ice cream carton… " Suddenly she grew serious, the humor fading from her eyes. "I remember everything. I remember the day you rescued me from drowning in the creek, the first time you kissed me, the night of my eighteenth birthday." She reached up and placed her palm on his cheek, her voice softening perceptively. "We made love for the first time and you asked me to marry you. It's all I ever wanted in this lifetime, to be your wife and have your babies."
As if he'd just been delivered a punch to the solar plexus, J.T. lost his breath. He stared at Caitlan, seeing her in a different light. He saw Amanda in her soft smile, her violet eyes, and knew without further interrogation that Caitlan was telling the truth.
A maelstrom of emotions welled in him. Afraid to believe in something he'd fantasized about numerous times, he backed away from her. He had to get away, to think and sort everything out.
Spinning around, he strode to the end of the bed and jammed on his boots.
"Where are you going?" Her voice wavered with concern.
"Out." He didn't look at her, knowing if he did he'd never make it out the bedroom door. "I need time to think."
Caitlan watched J.T. leave, her heart sinking to the floor. She understood his need to be alone-he'd been dealt quite a shock-but she hated the loneliness that enveloped her on his departure. That same emptiness echoed in her heart.
"Oh, Johnny," she sighed dismally. The nickname came so naturally to her, she couldn't imagine having called him anything else. "What are we going to do?" But she knew the answer to her question. Regardless of who she was, and despite her love for J.T., she had a mission to complete. She ached with the knowledge that she would have to leave him. Again.
She slipped her medallion back on. Now that her memory had been restored, the pendant no longer shimmered with that strange energy. The vibrant life it had possessed had transferred itself to her, leaving the medallion as a device solely for use in contacting her Superiors.
Running a shaking hand through her disheveled hair, she left J.T.'s room, needing the comfort she knew King could offer her. She changed into warm clothes and a jacket and left the house heading for the corral, praying her Superiors would have a cure for her lovesick heart once she arrived back in heaven.
An hour later, calmer now from his fast-paced walk to burn off the chaos raging inside him, J.T. followed the pasture fence back to the barn. The night air chilled his skin, and he shrugged deeper into the warmth of his jacket.
Rounding the final curve from the pasture to the corral, he saw Caitlan with King and stopped, silently watching the two of them from a distance. Moonlight spilled over them, giving them both an ethereal appearance. Caitlan slowly stroked a curry comb over King's gleaming coat, her soft murmurs soothing the stallion. He found himself fascinated with the gentle way King responded to Caitlan. Now that he knew she was an angel, he understood the uncanny bond she shared with the horse.