Seeing the flare of panic in Adam’s gaze, Gabby cut in. “Now, dear, remember what I said.”
“I’m not pestering Papa.” Fi’s bottom lip wobbled, her precocious poise slipping. “I’m asking a question.”
“That’s fair, Fiona.” Adam cleared his throat. “The truth is that I don’t remember you, your brother, or your mama. Or much of anything before the accident,” he said frankly. “The doctor says the hit to my head shook things up a bit. But I’m hoping that as my injury heals, the memories will return as well.”
Fi stared at him. “How long will it take?”
“No one knows for certain.” He paused. “Although I’ve been thinking…if you and your brother are willing to help me, my memories might return more quickly.”
“How can we help?” Fi wanted to know.
“You can remind me of the things I used to know. The details of my old life might help me to remember the past,” Adam said earnestly, as if he’d given the matter some thought. “You children have a wealth of information you could share with me.”
Fiona looked taken aback; Gabby couldn’t blame her. The Adam before the accident had always been in command, of himself and the universe around him. He was their confident and invincible leader, and everyone had followed along, trying to keep up.
ThisAdam was doing something the old one had never done: he was asking for help.
As Fiona clearly struggled with how to respond to the changes, Max stepped forward.
“Um, hello, Papa. I’m Maximillian, and I’m five.” He gave a shy bow. “Everyone calls me Max…well, except you. You don’t like pet names, in case you don’t remember.”
Adam looked puzzled. “Why don’t I like pet names?”
“I don’t know why.” Max’s shoulders hitched. “You just don’t. You always call Mama by her full name, not Gabby like her friends do. And you always call me by my full name, although I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to call me Max.”
“I appreciate that, Max.” Adam’s tone was grave, but his eyes glinted with humor. “And thank you. This is precisely the sort of detail that might help me remember more of the past.”
“You’re welcome. I understand what it’s like to forget things.” Flushing, Max held out the book that he’d gone back to the nursery to fetch. “I thought this might help pass the time.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.” Adam took the leather-bound volume, reading the embossed title aloud. “Oriental Tales, Being Moral Selections from the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments Calculated Both to Amuse and Improve the Minds of Youth.” His lips twitched as his gaze met Gabby’s. “That’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”
A clerk at Hatchard’s had recommended the book to Gabby, saying that it was a popular choice for children. She’d been surprised to find that her favorite tales had been adapted for the nursery—minus the wife-slaying and other scandalous parts, of course. Selected stories, includingThe Adventures of Sinbad the SailorandAladdin’s Wonderful Lamphad been rewritten to highlight particular moral lessons, in the manner of Aesop’s Fables.
“The stories are jolly good,” Max told him. “You always come to the nursery on Thursday nights to read one to Fiona and me. Maybe if you read the book now,” he added with growing excitement, “it might help you remember reading it before?”
Adam looked intrigued, flipping through the pages. “Capital suggestion, Max. I’ll try it.”
Max beamed.
“I have a suggestion too,” Fiona burst out.
Adam looked up from the book with a quizzical smile. “Yes?”
“I could play the pianoforte for you. You always like it when I play. You hired Maestro Bellucci from Italy to tutor me, and I’m one of the best pupils he’s ever had, he said so himself.” While immodest, Fi’s claim wasn’t inaccurate. Being her father’s daughter, she excelled at everything she did. “I’ve been practicing a sonatina by Maestro Clementi. Let’s go to the music room, and I’ll play it for you!”
“Papa’s hurt. He can’t walk,” Max pointed out.
“Who asked you?” Fiona narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Papa’s not an invalid. He’s already out of bed, and if he needs help, the footmen can carry him down the stairs.”
“That is a lovely idea, my dear,” Gabby said, trying to defuse the situation. “But Papa needs rest. Later, when he’s better—”
“But I want to play for Papanow.” A storm gathered in Fi’s blue eyes. “If he can’t go down, then the footmen can bring the piano up.”
“You know the first footman has a bad back.” As much as she loved her daughter, Gabby wished the girl would think more of others. “It’s not considerate, dear, nor is it practical to ask the servants to haul a heavy instrument up the stairs.”
Hands curled, Fi yelled, “You always side with Max!”
As Gabby strove to hold onto her patience, Adam’s baritone cut through the tension.
