To See The Daises ... First (12 page)

Eight

"How about this one?"

Sunny stopped flipping through the rack to turn and look at the T-shirt Mary Louise was holding up. The deathless words SO'S YOUR AUNT MINNIE were emblazoned in scarlet across the front of a short-sleeved pink top.

"Do they have it in any other colors?" Sunny asked, holding the shirt to her young friend's shoulders. "Green would bring out your eyes."

"I like my eyes just where they are, thank you," Mary Louise replied, giving her a cocky grin as she laid the shirt back on the sale table.

Sunny stared in exaggerated surprise, "Mary Louise, you made a joke! Maybe there's hope for you yet. I was sure you would end up an insurance salesman or something equally sober."

Mary Louise stuck her tongue out impishly and went back to digging through the shirts. They had already picked out a pair of jeans and an A-line skirt and were now looking for blouses to round off her new wardrobe.

After they finished their shopping, the two were planning a session with the scissors. A shorter, neater cut would make all the difference in the world to the girl's appearance, softening the lines of her face. Sunny only hoped she wouldn't make a mess of her stint as a hair stylist.

The search for a T-shirt that didn't carry a provocative message lasted another thirty minutes. Then, after paying for their purchases, they reluctantly abandoned the air-conditioned comfort of the small department store for the humid heat of the midday street.

As they began their walk home, Mary Louise chattered in a light-hearted way that was becoming more and more the norm in her conversations with Sunny. Suddenly she stopped, grabbing her blonde friend by the arm to pull her against the wall.

"It's Mr. Armquist!" she whispered urgently. "When he asks if you want to see his magazines, say no."

Sunny looked down at her suspiciously. "What kind of magazines?"

"Science magazines," she replied in a horrified whisper.

"How disgusting," Sunny gasped. "Trying to pervert young minds with science. He should be ashamed of himself."

"You wouldn't think it was so funny, if he tried to corner you every time you left the house," her friend said with a sorrowful groan, urging her with a firm hand to duck into an entryway until the danger of being accosted by the sly Mr. Armquist had passed.

Sunny listened in amused silence as Mary Louise expounded with gruesomely minute detail on the punishment that should be dealt people who force others to listen to talk of science, politics, and gall bladder operations. By the time she got around to her opinion on the state of the world in general, they were approaching the end of the business district with the row of neglected mansions in sight.

Sunny's thoughts were drifting back to Ben when they were brought up short by the squeal of brakes, then the heart-stopping crunch of metal against metal. By the time they turned around to see what had happened, a crowd was already beginning to gather around the two cars involved. Thankfully, it wasn't a serious accident, for Sunny could see what appeared to be the drivers standing beside one of the cars. She was turning away when, as if on cue, the crowd parted, giving her a clear view of the unlucky vehicles.

The drivers were standing almost chin to chin, shouting and gesturing angrily. But it wasn't either of these two men who held her frozen to the sidewalk. Behind them, leaning casually against one of the cars, was the man she had seen, days earlier, driving a red sports car.

She could have pinpointed the exact second he spotted her. One moment he was watching the drivers, an amused expression on his angular face—and the next he had straightened away from the car, his eyes widening as he stared across to where she stood.

Her heart began to pound in frantic, panicky beats that caused a deafening buzz in her ears, and for endless moments she stood paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze. Then, when she saw him turn and grasp one of the drivers by the arm, lowering his head to speak to him, the spell that held her mesmerized lost its frightening grip. Swinging around, she began to stride urgently in the direction of the apartment, pulling a baffled Mary Louise along behind her.

"Hey! What's going on?" her friend protested gruffly.

"It's—" Sunny paused. How could she explain when she didn't know herself? How could she say that she had seen a stranger and was scared stiff? "It's nothing," she lied. "I just want to get home and see how your new clothes look on you."

"They won't look like much if I'm missing one arm when we get there," Mary Louise predicted under her breath.

Giving a short, semi-hysterical laugh, Sunny stepped up her pace, and it was only when they walked into the dark foyer of the old mansion that | she relaxed her grip on her friend's arm.

She could feel the young girl staring at her as they walked up the three flights. When she had inserted the key in the apartment door, Mary Louise grabbed her arm, halting her movements, and said irritably, "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

Just as Sunny took a deep breath to offer an excuse -any excuse—the phone in Mary Louise's apartment began to ring.

"You go answer the phone," Sunny said hurriedly. "Then come over and try on the clothes. And I'll try to tell you what happened," she added reluctantly.

For a moment Sunny was afraid her friend would not be put off, but as the phone continued to ring, Mary Louise muttered, "Okay. But it better be good."

Entering the apartment, Sunny locked the door behind her, knowing the fact that this was the first time she had remembered to do so was significant. Walking to the armchair, she slumped into it, closing her eyes wearily. Then she jerked them open as the man with the tormented eyes— the face of her dreams—swam before her.

"Leave me alone," she groaned.

It seemed that the face was always there, in the dark regions of her mind, but never as strong as now. She needed Ben. Where was he? Why wasn't he there to chase away the vision like he had done so many times before?

She brushed the hair roughly from her forehead, then sighed in relief when she heard a knock at the door. "Mary Louise," she murmured with a smile as her tension eased perceptibly. But when she opened the door, her smile froze, becoming a silent study in fear.

It wasn't Mary Louise. Standing there, leaning casually against the doorjamb, was a man she had seen only twice before. The man in the red sports car.

It didn't occur to her to ask what he wanted. She was working on pure Instinct when she tried to slam the door in his face, only to have it shoved against her chest as he pushed his way into the room. Jerking the door from her grasping hands, he closed it behind him with a smile. For a moment neither spoke as they stood and stared at each other.

His blond hair was neatly trimmed and his face could only be described as ordinary. Nothing there to cause her heart to pound in her chest—nothing except his intrusion into a place that stood for safety and warmth . . . and love.

"That really wasn't very nice of you to run out on us like that," he said. "Now, was it?"

The sound of his voice—smooth and pleasant— sent chills of terror shivering down her spine. His smile widened suddenly, as though he recognized her reaction and found pleasure in it.

"Glenn's feelings are hurt," he whispered. "But you can make it up to him now." He stared at her, his head cocked in inquiry. "You are ready to go, aren't you?"

She began to shake her head slowly, then faster in desperation. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an avenue of escape. In simultaneous movements, she stepped backward and his hand snaked out to catch her wrist with a bruising grip.

"Now, that's not a hospitable way to act, is it?" he said, sneering. "Weren't we good to you? I even kept Glenn off you when you were unconscious— and so very naked."

Sunny felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of this man seeing her body. Leaning back, she tried frantically to free her arm, but he merely pulled her closer with seemingly effortless movements.

"Let me go!" she hissed, kicking out at him with vicious intent.

Throwing back his head, he gave a shout of laughter. "So you can still talk after all."

His smile faded abruptly and he gave her arm a painful jerk, twisting her around, and suddenly he was behind her with one arm thrown across her chest, the other still clamped on her wrist.

"Now," he said pleasantly. "Whether you like it or not, we're going to go downstairs and outside where Glenn is waiting with the car. We're going to get quietly into the car and then we're going to finish what we started before your . . . little attack of nerves." He let go of her wrist to grasp her chin, turning her head toward him, then smiled again. "Understand?"

As though coming out of a spell, she felt adrenaline flowing through her veins, and suddenly she was wonderfully, gloriously angry. The hell you say, she thought in fury. He might drag her down the stairs. He might even succeed in getting her into the car, but, by heaven, he wouldn't do it without a fight. She was not going to make it easy for him.

Without warning, she let her body go limp. Then, when he was trying to deal with her dead weight, she twisted free. Moving on wings of fear, she turned toward the bedroom with some vague idea of locking the door and escaping through the window, but before she had covered half the length of the room, she heard another knock on the door.

Oh, God, Mary Louise! She had forgotten about her completely. She had to warn her. She had to keep her away from this man.

"Mary Louise!" she shouted frantically. "Go—"

She got no further in her warning because her unwanted guest flew at her suddenly, hitting her in the midriff with his shoulder, and she fell to the floor beneath his weight. Pinning her down, he covered her mouth with his hand.

But she couldn't feel his weight on top of her and didn't notice his hand on her face or the taste of blood from her split lip. He needn't have worried about her shouting again. She couldn't have made a sound if her life depended on it, for Sunny was in a place where he could no longer touch her. The only thing that managed to penetrate her consciousness was the faint, faraway pounding on the door.

***

Ben stepped out of the car and walked briskly to the front of the old mansion. Sunny should be back from her shopping trip by now, he thought as he walked up the front steps. He chuckled suddenly, remembering how she had looked when she told him that she was going to try and release the butterfly in Mary Louise's soul. No one but Sunny could have seen a butterfly in that grumpy little Napoleon.

But that was Sunny. The world through her eyes was a wondrous, magical place, a place that was sometimes bewildering and even uncomfortable to a practical man. He wanted very badly to see that world. Sometimes he even managed to catch a glimpse, but—

His train of thought was jarringly interrupted when he walked in the front door. Above him he could hear pounding, and someone was screaming Sunny's name.

Taking the steps three at a time, he covered the stairs in record time, sliding to a halt outside his apartment door where Mary Louise was beating on it with her fists.

She turned to him, her plain face pale with fright. "She screamed, Ben," she said, her voice shaking. "Something's awfully wrong."

Gently but with terrified urgency, he pushed her aside and inserted his key in the door with a hand he would not allow to tremble. He was frantic to be inside, but in the back of his mind he dreaded it too. The thought of something happening to Sunny brought a pain like none he had ever felt before.

As he opened the door, his eyes shot around the room. A window was open and the curtains were blowing, but there was no sign of Sunny. He started toward the bedroom, then stopped abruptly.

Her golden hair covered her face as she lay still and silent on the floor, hidden from view by the couch.

His steps seemed to be In slow motion. With Mary Louise a step behind, he walked to where Sunny lay. As he knelt beside her, his heart pounded with such ferocity, it felt as though his chest would burst and he could feel the blood drain from his face. He lifted her head and placed it on his lap, lowering his face to hers to search for a sign that she was still breathing.

Where was his mind? His reason? What had happened to the order? The sanity? He should be doing something. Something other than giving in to the fear that was ripping at his insides.

He glanced up at the girl, forcing a calm he didn't feel into his voice. "Call the doctor, Mary Louise. His number is beside the telephone. Dr. Chandler."

Turning back to Sunny, he felt weak with relief as he saw her chest rise with her inhaled breath. "Sunny," he whispered hoarsely. "Babe, please— where does it hurt? Who did this to you? Please, Sunny, you've got to wake up and talk to me— you've got to." He kissed her gently on the forehead, then more urgently on her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, whispering in an incoherent frenzy, "It's not fair. People shouldn't, they shouldn't hurt the gentle ones. It's not supposed to happen." Every muscle in his body was clenched in the effort to keep from screaming in anger and fear.

"I should have been here!" he ground out harshly. "God damn whoever did this! I'll find them, babe. They won't ever hurt anyone again, I promise." He framed her face with his hands, feeling clumsy and overgrown beside her delicacy. "Do you hear me, Sunny? Do you—"

Suddenly he felt a tug on his shirt and he turned to see Mary Louise, terror etched deeply into her face. "Is she dead?" she whispered.

"No!" he spat out, then more calmly, "No, of course not. She'll be fine." He had to gain control of himself. For Sunny. For Mary Louise. For himself.

Lifting her gently, he laid her on the couch, sitting beside her as he turned back to the girl. "Call the doctor now, Mary Louise. She'll be fine as soon—" He stopped suddenly, his words hanging in his throat when he felt her hand clasping his.

"Sunny?" He leaned toward her and saw her eyelids flutter open.

"No," she whispered, her voice sounding painfully hoarse. "I don't need a doctor ... It was just—-just..."

"Sunny, you're hurt. A doctor can tell us what's wrong."

"No, honest, Ben." Her voice sounded stronger now and she gave a shaky smile. "He just knocked the wind out of me. I'll be fine. Really."

"Who?" Ben asked, his voice raspy with anger, the lingering taste of fear bitter in his mouth. "Who did this?"

A strange look passed fleetingly across her expressive features. "It was that man I told you about," she said hesitantly. "The one I saw on my walk, whose anger frightened me."

Ben closed his eyes and said stiffly, "How did he get in, Sunny?"

"I let him in."

The words came out in a thin, defeated whisper that sent a violent anger surging through his veins. Grasping her face between his hands, he held her firmly and leaned close, staring into her wide-open eyes. "You can't do things like that," he said, his voice low and deliberate, his breathing sounding harsh and labored to his own ears. "I may not be able to see the daisies, but God Almighty, Sunny, you can't see beyond them." His hands trembled from the effort he was making to stay calm. "There is evil out there. It exists. And if you can't see it, you're only fooling yourself."

His head swung around sharply as a gasp from beside him reminded him of the little girl's presence. "Mary Louise," he said, running a distracted hand through his hair. "I want to thank you. Your pounding on the door probably scared him off."

Pushing her glasses farther back on her nose with her index finger, Mary Louise glanced anxiously from Sunny to Ben. "Sunny?" she said in a nervous whisper.

"I'll be all right, Mary Louise," Sunny said, smiling reassuringly. "You'd better go now. Your father will be home any minute and hell worry about you."

After throwing Ben a ferocious glance, Mary Louise turned and left the apartment. As soon as the door closed behind her, Ben turned back to Sunny, pulling her urgently up Into his arms.

"I thought ... I didn't know ..." He couldn't seem to get the words out as he rocked her back and forth, his face pressed against her soft, warm neck.

"I know," she murmured, stroking his face. "I know, darling. It's all right now."

He gave a short, derisive laugh. "I'm worse than useless. You were attacked and all I can do is yell at you. And on top of that I should be comforting you, not the other way around."

She shifted her head to stare down into his eyes. "You gave me everything I needed, when I needed It. Don't you think I know what the anger was all about?"

She did understand. He could see it in her eyes. "Sunny, we've got to talk about this," he said, drawing back slightly. "You know what we've got to do now, don't you?"

"No," she gasped. "No, Ben—please. Ill stay in the apartment, I promise. You won't have any reason to worry about me from now on. I'll —"

"Sunny," he said, halting the frantic stream of words. "We've got to. I know you're afraid of what's in your past, but we can't avoid it any longer. I'm afraid it's caught up with us."

"It's not that." She buried her face in his throat, locking her arms around his neck. "I'm not afraid of that any more. Oh, maybe a little. But I think I could handle it now."

"Then what is it? Why don't you want to find out who you are?"

It was a few moments before she spoke, then she took a deep breath and began hesitantly. "Ben, I told you I understood why you were mad at me and I did. You did it because—because you care."

Ben almost laughed at the understatement, but he didn't. He held his silence and listened as she continued In a low voice.

"But you care for Sunny, Ben," she whispered, lifting her gaze to stare into his eyes. "What if you don't care for the person I turn out to be? What if I'm not Sunny any more?"

Closing his eyes weakly, it was a moment before he could find the voice to answer her. "Babe," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "I don't care if you're Sleepy, Grumpy, or Doc. It won't change the way I feel about you." He lifted his hand to gently touch her face. "Don't you think I'm worried about the same thing? What if, when you remember, you find that you don't feel the same way about me? We've both tiptoed around our feelings because we had to. But now that it's out in the open, we've got to face an unpleasant fact. Even if you're not married, there is a man out there somewhere that you love. You said so yourself. When you remember who you are, you'll remember him, too. And where will that leave me?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips. "Don't say anything. You can't know now how you'll feel then. I just wanted you to know the fear I'm dealing with. But I can't let that stop me. We can never build a future until we take care of the past. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly. "But can I say one thing about the face in my dreams?"

"It won't change my mind."

"Maybe not, but I want you to know anyway." She dropped her gaze and began smoothing the fabric of his shirt across his shoulder. "I said I loved him—and I do. But it's not the same as what I feel for you." She glanced up at him and then away. "I don't want him," she whispered.

Ben's chest heaved as he drew in a deep, ragged breath. Lord, how was he going to let her go without making love to her? Now that they had made a decision to find out about her past, he wanted desperately to back^ out. He wanted to keep her with him forever and not give the world a chance to separate them.

"I'm glad," he said simply. "But that can't make any difference. We still have to find out."

"Yes, I know." she murmured, moving closer as though the words sounded as lonely and final to her as they did to him.