Free Christmas Angel by Amanda McIntyre Page B

about the past, the nap had given her some of the rest she needed, restoring her natural curiosity.
    She opened her eyes and took in the small room with its pale painted walls. Most were bare, except for the spot near the front entrance where he’d hung the coats. A definite contrast, however, to the possessions squeezed into the one room. The settee, a bookshelf crammed with books, papers, and framed pictures, as well as another large overstuffed chair created a parlor area. Some objects appeared new, others a little worn. An oddshaped lamp emitted a soft light. It seemed fueled by neither candle or kerosene, but by some other power.
    She inched closer, curious about what the shade hid, paying little heed to the tingling beginning to occur in her eyes as she drew near the bright light. Fascinated, she peered under the strange shade, and then flung herself back against the cushions, reacting as though she’d stared directly into the sun. Her sudden movement caused the lamp to sway and before she could move, it wobbled and fell to the hard wood floor with a terrible crash, sending shards of debris across the floor. Suddenly cast into pitch-blackness, she held her breath and waited, not knowing what might happen next. A rustling sound piqued her interest and then a light from above illuminated the room.
    “What happened?” Shado glanced toward the broken object lying on the floor. “Are you all right?” He set the lamp upright and assessed the bits of scattered glass.
    “It’s entirely my fault. My apologies.” The words tumbled clumsily from her mouth as spots continued to dance before her eyes. “I must have knocked it askew when I moved back. It was so very bright.”
    “Askew?” His expression showed concern, but she could see he was not happy.
    “Oh, dear.” She assessed his face. “Had it been in your family a long time?” she asked, her focus beginning to clear.
    He blinked with surprise. “Uh, no. No harm done. It’s an old thing I picked up at a thrift store. Just needs a new bulb.” He glanced at her. “You didn’t get cut, did you?”
    She shook her head. The initial shock in her brain was beginning to subside.
    He looked down at her. “You mind me asking what prompted you to stare directly into the light?”
    “I wanted to see how it worked.”
    “How it—you’ve never seen an electric lamp?”
    She shrugged. “Oh, I’ve heard of them, of course, but I’ve never been close to one.”
    He studied her with greater interest. “Are you starting to remember? Have you had any other flashes of your past, of where you live, who we might contact to let them know you’re okay?”
    “I had a dream earlier. I was wearing this dress and running through a canyon with very high walls.”
    “A canyon,” he repeated.
    “I remember dressing for my lesson.”
    “Your lesson?”
    “My piano lesson.” She frowned. Mystified, she shook her head, wishing she could put the pieces, no better than the glass shards on the floor, together. “All I can remember was being afraid of missing my piano lesson.”
    He sighed. “Okay…that’s good.” He braced his hands on his lean hips. “Don’t worry. The doc said it could take a few days for everything to make sense to you.” He smiled, and it helped her feel less clumsy. “Guess I need a broom and dustpan.”
    She waited, her legs curled beneath her as she watched him sweep up the broken pieces, following carefully with a wet cloth to get up all the unnoticeable bits. For a man without a woman in his life, he fared well on his own. He was confident and comfortable in his own skin.
    Her attention dropped to the way his trousers stretched tight over his firm backside as he stooped down to clean. Curious to know what form of attire they were, she considered the fabric, which revealed much of the muscular form beneath. “What type of trousers are you wearing?”
    He straightened as though he’d been swatted and looked over his shoulder.
    “Around here