Starstruck (36 page)

M
argo’s mouth was dry. Her head throbbed, as though some tiny blacksmith were using her forehead for an anvil. With great effort, she opened her eyes, squinting in pain from the blinding glare of the morning light bouncing off the windshield.
Windshield?
she thought groggily.
Am I still dreaming?

Gingerly, she eased her throbbing head out the window of the unfamiliar car. She was sitting in the middle of an empty parking lot. At its edge, next to a deserted highway, stood a tall sign spelling out G
AS
F
OOD
L
ODGING
in faded neon.

Before she could put this information into any kind of understandable context, Dane Forrest appeared. Dressed in a rough work shirt and flannel trousers, his dark hair slicked back with nothing but water, he was almost unrecognizable at first.

“Good,” he said briskly. “You’re awake.”

Margo was finding it very difficult to speak. Her tongue felt
thick and unwieldy, as though someone had removed it from her mouth and replaced it with a dry sponge. “I … I don’t feel very well,” she managed finally, before falling back against the seat.

Dane gave a little snort of laughter. “It’s called a hangover, Margo.”

“No.” She shook her head, wincing at the resultant thudding of her brain against her skull. “That can’t be it. A hangover couldn’t possibly be this bad.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t die; you’ll just wish you would.” Through the open window, he handed her a paper bag containing a roll and a steaming paper cup of coffee. “Here. Breakfast. Eat up. You’ll feel better soon.”

Margo was suddenly starving. “Where are we?” she asked between bites.

“Just north of Santa Barbara,” Dane said offhandedly. “I think it’s called the Red Mountain Roadside Motel, but I’m not sure. These places all look the same.”

“Santa Barbara!” Margo jerked upright in her seat. “But that’s hours away!”

“Really only about two,” Dane said calmly. “I was going to explain everything on the way, but you passed out about three seconds after I got you in the car.”

“Got me in the car? More like you kidnapped me,” Margo snapped, the events of the night before rushing back to her. “I would never have believed you were capable of something so ungentlemanly. And poor Mr. Payne! He must have been worried to death!”

“Margo, cut the crap.” Dane spoke in a low voice, his face very close to hers. “This isn’t a movie, do you understand?
You don’t know Hunter Payne. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“Well, that’s a first!” Margo shouted. “You’ve never been honest with me about anything in your life!”

“I know,” Dane sighed. “But that’s all over now. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

His acquiescence disarmed her. “Why … why did you bring me here?”

Dane looked her straight in the eye. “Because I thought it was time for you to finally have some answers. Here.” He handed over a parcel wrapped in a length of wrinkled brown paper. “Some clothes,” he explained. “I bought them off the innkeeper’s wife.” Margo unwrapped the package and held up a dress, its calico fabric left faded and thin by numerous washings. It smelled like soap. “Not quite as stylish as you’re used to,” Dane said, “but it’s clean. And believe me, where we’re going, you don’t want to show up in an evening gown.”

As soon as Margo had changed, they pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the open highway past the Santa Ynez Mountains, watching in silence as the craggy hills of Southern California slowly gave way to the verdant lushness of the north. Through the open window, the perfume of flowering trees mingled deliciously with the sharp, salty smell of the sea. She whispered to herself, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” Margo hadn’t expected Dane to hear her. “It was important it be someplace beautiful.”

At last, they pulled off the highway onto a long country road leading up to a large, Spanish-style mansion tucked away
behind a set of elaborate wrought iron gates. A small sign said E
DENS
G
ROVE
S
ANATORIUM
. A guard opened the gates for them as they approached, and they drove up the gravel driveway to the house, where an older man in a light summer suit awaited them on the stone steps. At his side was a plump, sturdy-looking woman in a nurse’s apron and starched white cap.

Dane bounded out of the car, hand outstretched. “Dr. Allenby.”

“Mr. Forrest,” said the man, shaking Dane’s hand warmly. “Always a pleasure.”

“Thank you so much for allowing us to come on such short notice.”

The doctor nodded cordially. “Of course. Anytime.”

“And … how are things?” Dane asked. His voice had an anxious edge.

“Oh, I’d say pretty steady,” Dr. Allenby replied carefully. “Nothing I’d call a major setback. Still, the progress has been quite a bit slower than I’d like.”

“Is there nothing you can do to speed things up?”

The doctor sighed. “Mr. Forrest, it’s as I’ve always said. In a case like this, the healing process is vastly influenced by the patient’s mental state. The physical recovery is almost beside the point. She has to
want
to get better.”

She
. An involuntary shudder jolted through Margo’s body. There was only one person in the whole world that “she” could be.

“And does she? How would you characterize her mental state?”

The doctor sighed again. “Let’s just say she has her good days and her bad days.” He smiled. “Just like anyone, I suppose. But
why don’t you see for yourself?” He tilted his head at the nurse by his side. “Nurse Morisco will take you.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Of course.” Dr. Allenby headed back toward the entrance of the house. “I’ll be in my office if you have any questions.”

“This way, please,” said the nurse with a brisk nod. Obediently, Dane and Margo followed her down the steps and around the side of the building. “She’s out on the lawn today, getting some fresh air. I’m afraid it was a rather difficult night.”

Dane stiffened. “How so?”

The nurse’s eyes flickered toward Margo. “She got hold of one of those picture magazines—”

“What?”
The color drained from Dane’s face. “We
specifically
said … I mean … how could you let this
happen
?”

“It seems one of the younger nurses left it lying around by accident. She’s been reprimanded, of course,” Nurse Morisco added quickly. “It won’t happen again. She’s been given a sedative, so she’s calm now, although she may seem a little more disoriented than usual. Still, I wouldn’t say or do anything that might upset her.” The nurse cast a long, meaningful glance in Margo’s direction. “You must be Miss Sterling,” she said.

“Margo, please.”

“Mr. Forrest didn’t mention you were coming.”

“No.” Margo forced out a nervous little chuckle. “Nor to me.”

“It’s very important that Margo be here,” Dane said firmly. “Very important indeed.”

Nurse Morisco pressed her lips together in obvious disapproval. “In that case, Mr. Forrest, I suppose you know best.”

They were behind the mansion now, walking across an expansive green lawn. They passed a small vegetable garden being
carefully tilled by a handful of patients in green gardening aprons. A pair of nurses hovered nearby. A few other patients sat at a small grouping of easels, frowning over their boxes of watercolors with quiet concentration, the deliberative slowness of their movements adding to the feeling of eerie calm.
It’s almost like being underwater
, Margo thought.

Nurse Morisco pointed across the lawn to a wicker wheelchair, positioned to face the sea. “That’s her. She’s been a bit agitated lately, so please try to keep your voices and your movements very calm. I’ll be right over here if you need me.”

Dane gave Margo’s hand a squeeze. “Ready?”

She squeezed his in return. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

And calmly
—very
calmly—they walked across the lawn to meet Diana Chesterfield.

D
ane knelt on the grass in front of the motionless figure in the wheelchair, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. “My darling. How are you?”

Peering into the face of her idol for the first time, Margo felt a strange chill. It wasn’t just because of the wheelchair, or the unsettling silence of their surrounding—although in all the years she had imagined meeting Diana, it had never been in circumstances quite like this.
There’s something missing
, Margo thought.

She was suddenly reminded of a Shirley Temple doll Doris used to have. With its deep dimples, bouncy yellow ringlets, and adorably chubby cheeks, it was a perfect replica of the beloved child star, and yet there was something about the doll’s blank, unmoving stare that Margo had always found deeply creepy.

That’s how Diana looks
, Margo thought. All the right features were there—the slanted blue eyes, the famous Chesterfield cheekbones—but something essential seemed to have been drained out of them. Sitting stiffly in the chair, staring glassily ahead, she looked like a doll.
A Diana Chesterfield doll
.

She was wearing a dressing gown of apricot silk over a set of blue Mandarin pajamas, the frog clasp left open at the throat. A pair of sunglasses was lying neglected in her lap, one of the earpieces splayed open crookedly, like a broken wing. Her voice was as strangely hollow as her expression as she slowly lifted a hand to point at Margo. “Is this the new stand-in?”

“No, darling, this is Margo. Go on.” He gave Margo a nudge. “Say hello.”

Margo took a step toward Diana, reflexively dropping into a little half curtsey. She felt like a fool, but it seemed as if some kind of subservient gesture was expected. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said. “Dane has told me so much about you.”

“She’s much too tall, Ernie,” Diana said. “They’ll never get the angles right.”

Ernie?
Margo thought, glancing back at Dane.
Does she even know who he is?

Dane, however, seemed unconcerned at being called the wrong name. “No, darling, I told you. Margo isn’t the stand-in. She’s my friend.”

She was still staring at Margo with that same glassy gaze. “And you’re going to bed with her.”

“Diana, please,” Dane said firmly. “Be a good girl.”

“I don’t mind, you know.” Her eyes were awash with tears. It was the first hint of emotion she had shown since she’d laid eyes on them, and its transformative effect was startling.
There
she is
, Margo thought. A melancholy goddess, gazing luminously up at Dane, exactly as she had done in picture after picture. “I never mind. I just want my darling to be happy.”

“Then get well,” Dane said quietly. “And come home. That would make me happy.”

Diana let out a staccato cackle, her eyes glazing over as the color left her face. She was once again an empty shell. “They haven’t sent me my script yet, you know.”

Dane sighed. “I know.”

“Well, can’t you see that they do? How on earth am I supposed to prepare if I can’t see my lines? They’ll be terribly cross with me, and that won’t do. Not at this stage.” Diana twisted the silk sash of her robe worriedly around her fingers. “It must have been stolen.” She pointed at Margo again. “She stole it, didn’t she?”

Gently, Dane folded his hand over her accusatory finger. “No, darling, you’re mistaken. Margo didn’t steal anything.”

“Stop lying!”
Diana shrieked. “Don’t lie!”

Nurse Morisco swooped to her side, grabbing Diana’s flailing hands in her own. “Now, now, honey,” said the nurse, holding Diana’s arms firmly down against the chair. “This lady doesn’t have anything of yours. Do you understand? This lady is Mr. Forrest’s friend, and you must be kind to her, or he won’t be able to come and see you anymore. Do you understand?” Diana shook her head. The nurse grabbed her chin and stared directly into her eyes with calm but undeniable force. “Do you understand?”

Diana inclined her head in the tiniest of nods. “Good.” Nurse Morisco turned to Dane and Margo. “I’m afraid she’s tired. I’d better take her back to her room.”

“Of course,” Dane said. “Whatever you think is best.” He knelt before the wheelchair once again, gazing up into Diana’s face. With his hair mussed, he looked like a small boy at his mother’s feet. “I’ll come back and see you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“It’s so bright, Ernie,” Diana replied. “Can’t you tell them to turn down the lights?”

Dane picked up her sunglasses, which had fallen from her lap onto the grass. He turned them over in his hands, examining them as though they were some strange artifact from a distant land, before he carefully placed them over her eyes.

“Thank you, Ernie.” Diana smiled. “You always know how to fix everything.”

With a brisk nod of farewell, Nurse Morisco wheeled her patient toward the house. Dane watched them until they had turned the corner, then rose to his feet and stood with his back to Margo, facing the sea.

Margo watched the gentle rise and fall of his shuddering shoulders with a kind of anguished awe. She had never seen a grown man cry before. She longed to comfort him, but it seemed somehow like a terrible intrusion. Like making love in another woman’s bed.