Intimate Strangers (5 page)

How could she leave the hospital to go home with Roarke? The hospital and especially Ted had come to represent a safe haven for her. She quivered at the thought of Ted abandoning her to Roarke. Ted was compassionate and understanding but Roarke—every time she mentioned the past, he shut her out. It was as though he were hiding something from her. She almost believed he didn't want her to remember. The thought of not remembering and spending the rest of her life not knowing who she was was too terrifying to think about.

Ted kept telling her that when she got home and into familiar surroundings that her memory would probably return quickly. But after not recognizing Roarke or herself, she held out little hope that their home would help bring back her memory.

Slumping into the chair, she threw the crutches down onto the floor and cringed as their sharp clatter broke the silence. The dejection that infused her mind with such hopelessness made her want to get up and run away. She looked down at the cast on her foot and a wry smile parted her lips. She turned her head to look outside.
Run away? Even if I knew where to run, how could I run
?

"Good morning, Sara. How are you today?" Ted came in the door shuffling several papers he held in his hands. "Isn't it beautiful out there?"

"Is it really? I think it's pretty scary."

"Come on now, what's the matter, Joe?"

"How can you ask such a dumb question, Ted? I'm sitting here watching all those people out there. Did you ever sit and wonder about other people's lives and what they're like? They all seem to know their destination… and I don't. They know they belong somewhere… and I don't."

"Sara, don't torture yourself like this. You do know who you are. You do know where you're going. You do belong."

Swinging around to face Ted, she said vehemently, "Where do I belong? Yes, I know my name, but what does that mean? Nothing! You tell me I'm Roarke's wife, but do I belong with him? You sure can't tell by the way he acts."

Ted's hand reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. Quietly he said, "Sara, I know you feel boxed in by your fear and the panic of not being able to remember. But you can't lose sight of the fact that Roarke is panicked and has fears too. He cares about you. I know he cares about you. I saw him while you were unconscious and in Intensive Care. The man was practically inconsolable. He stayed at this hospital for three days, barely eating or sleeping. You have to snap out of this. I know you're going to be all right. Now you have to believe it."

Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled plaintively. "Maybe you're right, Ted. I'll try harder but I just wish…"

"Wish what?"

"That… that Roarke would try harder."

"It will be easier when you're home and that's what I came in here to tell you. You're going home today."

Sara jumped up from her chair, then fell back into it. She could feel the blood draining from her face. "Why today? I thought you said I wouldn't be going home until tomorrow." Her voice was shaking but not as badly as her stomach.

"I don't have any reason to keep you here for another day. You can do the rest of your recuperating at home better than you can do it in this hospital. It had to come sometime, Sara. Once you're out of this regimented atmosphere, you'll be surprised at how much faster you'll get better."

"When do I leave?" Sara asked in a quavering voice. She wondered if she would be able to move. Her body felt leaden, and she had to swallow to keep down the sickening feeling in her stomach.

"I called Roarke when I went over your records this morning. He'll be here shortly to sign your release and take you home." Ted went over to her and crouched down in front of the chair and took both her ice cold hands into his warmer ones. "Sara, this will be better for you. You can't hide for the rest of your life. You know that, don't you?" He waited for her response and when she nodded reluctantly, he continued, "The longer you put things off and try to hide from them, the harder it's going to be for you."

Sara lifted her head up to face him. "I guess you're right, but I can't help being frightened." Her lower lip trembled as she spoke and she bit it to keep it still. She grasped Ted's hands as though they were her link to life.

Ted smiled fondly at her. "There's nothing wrong with being frightened. Everyone is at one time or another. It just shows you're alive and feeling."

Sara glanced up at the big round clock above the door and was startled to see Roarke standing in the doorway. His face was marred by an angry scowl and Sara felt a twinge of guilt. She didn't know why he should be angry or why she should feel guilty. Ignoring his anger, Sara smiled tremulously. "Good morning, Roarke."

Roarke nodded his head in acknowledgment of her greeting but never took his eyes off Ted's kneeling figure nor the fact that Ted was holding her hands. "I understood you were to come home today." His tone was barely civil. He walked over to Sara's bed and laid down the clothes he was carrying in his arms.

Ted dropped Sara's hands and stood up. "Yes, that's right. She is going home. I have papers for you to sign and an appointment to set up for Sara; then she can leave." Ted picked up the papers from the bed that he had brought in with him. "It would be easier if we did this in my office. A nurse will be coming to help Sara pack her things." He turned back to Sara, who was still sitting in the chair with her hands clenched together. "Well, Sara, we're going to miss you around here. But you know I'm just a phone call away. I'll make an appointment with Roarke to see you next week." Ted winked at Sara and walked to the door. "Take care… Joe."

With a quizzical glance at Sara, Roarke joined Ted at the door and they left together, the tall sophisticated, handsome man whom everyone told her was her husband but was a stranger and the big husky doctor who had become her friend.

Roarke waited patiently while the nurse helped Sara get settled in the front seat of the car then walked around to the driver's side. Nervously Sara tucked her lightweight coat against her legs and kept her eyes averted from Roarke's. Panic was trying to grip her senses and she battled with herself to hold it at bay. She gasped at the sound of the powerful motor coming to life and held on to the armrest as Roarke deftly maneuvered the car and merged with the heavy traffic.

"Why are you so nervous, Sara? You never used to worry about my driving."

Sara glanced over at the face of the man beside her. His profile was stonelike, and his full attention was on the road in front of them. But the rigidness of his features mystified her and a sense of irritation began to permeate her panic and dilute it. "Your driving has nothing to do with me being nervous. Roarke, don't you understand what's wrong with me? I'm scared. I'm so damn scared I can hardly talk." Sara twisted her body in the seat and faced Roarke. "You act like you don't want me to go home with you. From the minute I saw you in the doorway of my room, you've acted as though you're angry because I'm coming home."

He glanced at her then swept his eyes back to the traffic. "What gave you that crazy idea? Of course I want you home."

Swinging around to face the front of the car, she folded her arms across her chest. "I don't think my feelings are so crazy. If you didn't want to be inconvenienced by having to drive me, you could have sent a taxi." She chuckled bitterly. "Of course you'd have had to tell the driver where we live, since I don't remember!"

His head whipped around toward her, "Sara, stop it right now! Don't be so dramatic."

Turning to him again, she exploded, "Dramatic? Don't I have good reason to be dramatic? I'm scared! I don't understand you at all, Roarke."

She watched a twisted smile flicker across his lips. "Come off it, Sara!"

Sara wanted to scream with rage. What was wrong with him? They were fighting and she didn't know why.
Things are never going to work out
, she thought miserably.
He's moody, unpredictable, and unfeeling. Regardless of what Ted says, Roarke doesn't care or he wouldn't treat me like this
. Clamping her mouth tightly shut, she faced the front of the car and tried to ignore him and her feelings.

By the time they pulled into a long circular driveway, her head was whirling from all her grim thoughts. The car came to a jarring stop and Roarke opened his door, got out of the car, and came around to her side. "We're home, Sara." Roarke said wearily as he opened her door. Holding out his hand to her, he reached over and touched her elbow. Shrinking away from him, she watched as his face shadowed with irritation. "What's wrong now?"

Suddenly she knew she couldn't stay with this man. Husband or not, the situation was intolerable. If she weren't insane, his lack of understanding and impatience would soon drive her there. Her fear was full-blown and beyond her control. She shrunk farther away from his outstretched hand and whispered gutturally, "Take me back to the hospital… now!"

Roarke leaned into the open door and grabbed her arm. "Sara, what in the hell are you talking about? Get out of the car and let's go into the house."

Through gritted teeth she gnashed out, "I'm not going into that house with you. Take me back to Ted Maxwell."

With a sardonic chuckle Roarke straightened up. "Oh, Sara," he shook his head, "you've done it again. Ted Maxwell! I really thought for once you were being honest with me. I must admit you almost had me convinced. It's all just another game, isn't it, Sara? God, Sara, when is one man going to be enough for you?"

Sara was flabbergasted. What is he talking about? A game? How could he think she was playing any game? But the bitterness in his eyes was unmistakable and the contempt in his voice lashed her like a whip. She opened her mouth but couldn't say a word. The anger washed out of her as her befuddlement grew.

A middle-aged man came out of the house. His face was wrinkled from the smile that seemed to split it in half. He walked over to the car as Sara unwillingly struggled from the seat. "Mrs. -Alexander, it's so nice to have you home. I'm Bradley. If there's anything you need, anything, please just ask." Still smiling, he turned away and walked to the back of the car to get her bag.

Sara clutched her crutches tightly as she lumbered toward the house. Roarke was directly behind her and she was angry from the thought that he was trying to guard her, to keep her from running away. Peevishly she thought,
Does he really think I could get away? He's so close to my heels, if he's not careful, he'll trip over my feet
.

Glancing up at the entrance of the house, she saw a heavy-set woman standing in the doorway holding her apron to her eyes. Sara realized with a start that the woman was crying, and before she knew what was happening, the woman swept her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Miss Sara, it's so good to have you home! I know you don't remember me, but I just had to hug you to make sure you were really here." The woman held Sara at arm's length from her motherly form and looked at her critically. "You're too skinny, but I can fix that. Mr. Roarke, this child is fairly dropping. You take her upstairs to her room and let her rest. I'll bring you some lunch later," she said to Sara as she once more embraced her as though Sara were a child.

Sara looked to Roarke for help and saw the veil of contempt over his eyes. Before she could say a word, Roarke picked her up in his arms and carried her up the wide, curving staircase to a room off to the right of the long, carpeted hall.

He dropped her on the bed, went back to the door, and closed it firmly. He walked back to her, stopped at the edge of the bed, and ran his eyes up and down her body.

Lying rigidly on top of the quilted bedspread, Sara felt stripped naked physically and emotionally by his openly leering gaze and she was frightened. What was he up to now? She shuddered a little and inched her body away from him. Her heart started pounding rapidly and the palms of her hands were sweating.

"Let's get one thing straight right now, Sara." He seemed to spit the words from his mouth. "I will not take you back to the hospital and especially not to Ted Maxwell. You are my wife and you will stay right here. If you want to play a game, Sara, you will not play it with anyone else. This game will be solitaire."

His sarcasm cut through her, but for one second Sara thought she saw hurt in those deep blue eyes. She must have imagined it, because they were still viewing her very coldly.

"Roarke," she whispered shakily. She couldn't control the trembling in her body. "Please, listen to me."

He kept his eyes on her face, ignoring her shaking body. "What can you possibly have to say to me?"

"I don't understand what you're talking about. What game?" Tears glistened in her eyes. "Please, Roarke, don't turn on me like this. I haven't done anything to deserve it."

"Forget it, Sara. I'm used to all your feminine wiles and ploys for sympathy. You can beg and plead with me all you like, but it won't do you any good. I'm probably the only man in the world who knows what you're really like." He stalked out of the room, his back rigid with fury.

Sara turned over, buried her face in the pillow, pounded it with her fists, and cried wildly.
What has happened? Why is Roarke behaving like this? Does he really intend to try to keep me a prisoner? Was this how he acted all the time
? If he did, why in the hell had she married him? Wailing out loud, she moaned, "What do I do now?"

Groggy, Sara heard a soft tapping on the door. Propping herself up on one elbow, she looked around the room, awareness slowly replacing sleep. With a rising sense of panic, she realized someone was in the room with her.

"I didn't like to wake you up, Miss Sara, but I figured you might be hungry, so I brought you a tray."

Sara looked in the direction of the soft voice and saw Martha's round form silhouetted in the light coming through the window. - Everything had a strange dreamlike quality and Sara struggled to overcome the eerie feeling.

"Thank you, Martha," she responded quietly as she swung her feet off the bed and limped over to the table in front of the balcony window. Sipping at a cup of coffee, she glanced at Martha standing near her. Her arms were crossed over her ample bosom and she was studying Sara's face intently.