Mystery Wife

by Annette Broadrick

  Of course, she didn't say any of what she was thinking. What good would it do? Instead she walked over to the bed and packed the last few articles that had been lying beside her bag. "I'm ready to go whenever you are." Her voice sounded as cool and calm as his, she was pleased to discover.

  "You look tired," he surprised her by saying. "Did you sleep all right last night?" He reached past her and picked up the bag.

  "Not really. I'm nervous about leaving here."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

  She didn't want him to know about her misgivings, but perhaps he would understand. "I've grown accustomed to being here. The hospital and the routine here are all that I can remember at the moment."

  They were standing beside the bed, within touching distance of each other. He scanned her face as though searching for something. A slight line appeared between his brows. "The doctors warned me that I might see some pronounced changes in you since your accident. I'm beginning to see what they meant."

  "I'm not certain I understand what you mean."

  "In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you nervous or unsure of yourself. Even if you had been, you would never, ever have admitted it to anyone."

  His voice hadn't warmed exactly, but his tone was more neutral than she had ever heard him. He sounded puzzled, as though she had presented him with a view of her he'd never seen and that didn't fit with any of his perceptions.

  Impulsively she took his hand and said, "Raoul, it would help me so much if we—what I mean to say is.. .everything is so strange to me right now. I feel as though I woke up in somebody else's body, that I'm trying to live somebody else's life. What's worse, the more I learn of this person I'm being told I am, the less I like her." She looked down at their clasped hands, then up into his narrowed gaze. She almost lost her courage, but realized .that she had to try to make him see how difficult all of this was for her. "I know that you're upset with me, but it's very difficult for me to deal with your attitude when I don't know what I have done to cause it. If I could go back and undo whatever actions of mine created the pain you mentioned yesterday that you and your family have suffered, believe me, I would. You said that you wished you could forget. Well, so do I. Unfortunately we're faced with the unfortunate circumstances where I can't remember what you can't forget, and we're going to have to accept that fact regardless of our personal feelings. I know I'm asking a great deal of you, but if we're going to get through today and the rest of the days while I'm working to recover my memory, we're both going to have to leave the past behind, at least temporarily."

  She waited but he didn't say anything, although he seemed to be considering what she had said. With a slight sense of hope, she decided to say it all.

  "I want to ask of you is... would it be possible for us to start over... to pretend we just met? As far as I know I saw you for the first time the night I opened my eyes and found you standing beside my bed. Can we just continue from there ?"

  She stopped talking when her voice began to shake. She hated feeling so emotional and so out of control. She hated feeling like a supplicant for royal favor. However, she also knew that she couldn't function with so much tension between them. She had to do whatever she could, say whatever was neccessary, to effect a truce until her memory returned.

  He continued to stare at their joined hands as though he found the sight unusual. Perhaps he did. After a tense, lengthy silence he carefully withdrew his hand from her clasp, put down her bag and moved away toward the window where she could no longer see his face. With his back to her, he said, "I will do everything I can to accept as bonafide your offer of a truce between us. I'll admit that you have seemed very different since you regained consciousness. However, there's too much between us for me to pretend none of it ever happened. What I will do is attempt not to allow the past to color the present."

  Sherye felt as though a giant hand had just squeezed her chest so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. He had turned away from her but he'd been unable to mask the pain in his voice. She stared at his stiffly held back and for the first time felt as though she'd gotten a glimpse of the man behind the mask. He'd been hurt very badly, she suspected, just as she suspected she knew who had inflicted so much pain on him.

  Despite his pain, he'd seen that she was well cared for in those first harrowing days after her accident.

  Despite his pain, he was here today to take her home with him in an effort to help her heal.

  Here was a man with deeply held convictions, a man who appeared to love deeply desptie unknown . . . . to her . . . . but obvious setbacks. Whatever his feelings for her now, he was doing his best to deal with them without inflicting more of a burden upon her.

  Sherye searched for something to say, but her new insight and understanding of the man could not help her to ease the tension between them.

  After another prolonged, weighty silence she heard Raoul sigh before he turned to face her once more. His expression was carefully composed, his voice even when he spoke again.

  "I will do my best to treat you with the respect you deserve as my wife and the mother of my children while you are in my home. I will assist in your recovery by answering whatever questions you may have in hopes that you will more quickly regain your memory. That is all that I can promise you."

  He stood alone, facing her, much as she suspected he might face a firing squad—with fearless courage and undeniable dignity.

  "Thank you, Raoul. I have a hunch it's more than I deserve."

  They stood there in the spacious room, he by the window, she by the bed, silently acknowledging their truce. Sherye could feel the tension ease somewhat between them. As though released from hidden restraints, Raoul strode to the bed and again picked up her bag. "Come. We need to be on our way. We have a long drive ahead of us."

  ❧

  The sunlight that greeted them when they stepped outside gave Sherye a buoyant feeling of hope that the day would bring answers that would ease the ever-present tightness in her chest.

  Raoul escorted her to a silver luxury sedan and politely opened the door for her. She sank into the soft leather seat with a sigh, automatically buckling her seat belt, while he came around the car and slid behind the steering wheel.

  They pulled out of the long driveway onto a country road. Although it was only midmorning she recognized that she was already feeling weak, which frustrated her. Perhaps it was the continued tension that so exhausted her.

  Remembering that he had promised to answer her questions on the drive home, Sherye asked, "What have you told the children about the accident? Did you tell them I don't remember them?"

  "We told them you'd been in an accident. We didn't tell them about your memory loss. There was.no need to alarm them more than was necessary."

  "We?"

  "Maman and Danielle."

  His mother and sister who lived with them.

  She recalled that the doctor had told her she had had little to do with her children. "Do your mother and sister look after Yvette and Jules?"

  "They spend as much of their time as possible with the children, of course, but we have a full-time nanny who looks after them—Louise."

  "What sort of woman is she?"

  "Very competent. She came highly recommended."

  Once behind the wheel Raoul had placed shade glasses over his eyes, effectively masking his expression. She turned in her seat so that she could see him in profile.

  "What I meant was..." She paused, searching for the most diplomatic way to phrase what she wanted to know. "What sort of person is she? Is she warm and laughing? Does she give them hugs and plenty of affection? Does she play games with them... maybe teach them little songs?"

  Raoul gave her a quick glance, frowning. "Louise takes her job quite seriously. The children are well trained—obedient with good manners."

  She sighed and straightened in her seat. What could she expect? If she had allowed another woman to care for her children, she couldn't complain abou
t the way they were taught. As far as that goes, they could still be warm, exuberant children who had enough family around them to mask the absence of their mother's attention.

  She prayed that was so and vowed to make up for her long absence by spending as much time with them as possible from now on.

  "Before we arrive home," she began in a firm voice, "I would appreciate your giving me some kind of idea of our relationship. According to Dr. Leclerc, we quarreled the last night I was home. I also got the impression that you didn't approve of my friends."

  This time she kept her gaze straight ahead, suddenly grateful that they were seated side by side so that she didn't have to look at him.

  She could hear the tightness in his voice when he said, "I'm sorry that you had to learn of our relationship through a third party. I regretted having to discuss the matter with the doctor, but I understood his need to have some information about your past in order to work with you."

  "Yes, he mentioned your reluctance."

  She waited, silently reminding him that she was waiting for him to answer her question.

  After several miles of silence Raoul cleared his throat. "I'm finding this much more awkward than I had imagined it to be. It's very difficult to discuss what you have said and done in the past when you have no way of knowing whether or not I'm telling you the truth."

  Impulsively she touched his shoulder. "When I first regained consciousness I wondered about that, myself, but I feel that I've come to know you a little better now. I find that I trust you to tell me the truth, no matter how disagreeable you find the telling. I've already guessed that my behavior hasn't been anything to brag about. The thing is, I've imagined all sorts of things. It would be a relief to know the truth."

  "Yes, but whose truth, you see. I want to be fair with you. However, you've never been one to explain the motives behind your actions so I have no idea why you've done the things you've done. You've refused to discuss your feelings with me. It's as though the woman I fell in love with and married became someone else during your second pregnancy. For the past two years I've lived with a stranger whose inexplicable, erratic behavior has created many problems in our household."

  "So our argument wasn't unusual?"

  "No. Over the past several months you've been spending a great deal of money without bothering to account for it. You've gone on shopping sprees that were excessive, even for you. You've been moody and unpredictable. Laughing one moment, snapping at someone the next.", He massaged the back of his neck before he said, "However, this was the first time you decided to go somewhere overnight."

  "You mean you knew I was leaving?"

  "Yes. I found you packing, but you assured me you'd be back the next evening, despite the fact you packed a rather large bag, which made no sense to me. When I questioned you, you got defensive and sarcastic, refusing to answer my questions. I asked you not to go but you ignored me. I decided to face you when you returned and deal with our situation. Instead of your return, I received a call from the police reporting your accident."

  "Did I tell you where I was going?"

  "No."

  "Or why?"

  "No."

  She fell silent for several minutes before she asked, "In the weeks that I've been at the hospital I haven't heard from any of my friends. Isn't that unusual?"

  "I haven't given the matter much thought. I suppose it is, although we managed to keep a low profile in the papers. Perhaps they weren't aware of what happened."

  "But if I spent most of my time with them, wouldn't they have called for me at home?"

  "Perhaps they have. I haven't asked."

  Sherye made no effort to fill in the silence that took over between them. At least she had a better understanding of their relationship, some specifics to go with the generalities the doctor had outlined for her. Unfortunately there seemed to be no one who could tell her why she had behaved the way she did.

  After nearly an hour had passed, Sherye said, "I have no explanations to give about my behavior. All I can do is repeat what I said earlier. I'm sorry for causing so much turmoil in your life. I keep thinking about something the doctor said to me—about second chances."

  He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

  "Perhaps my accident was God's way of getting my attention and making me aware of my mistakes. Maybe I've been given another chance to look at my life and make some much needed changes." She gazed out at the passing landscape before adding, "Perhaps we have been given the chance to begin again, as strangers, to get to know each other."

  When he spoke, his voice sounded gruff. "That would be a little difficult, wouldn't you say, considering we've had two children together."

  She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she grasped the implication of his statement. "I know...at least, a rational part of me acknowledges that you and I have a history together, but at the moment it's difficult to accept the fact that I have shared a life and a bed with you, when it feels as though we met only recently."

  "You needn't concern yourself about sharing my bed. You've had your own room since shortly before Jules was born."

  "Oh."

  "Given the present circumstances, I certainly wouldn't expect you to be a wife to me in the intimate sense. Perhaps I should have reassured you on this point much earlier. I suppose I keep forgetting that you truly don't remember anything about us." He glanced at his watch. "Perhaps you should try to get some rest. We'll be stopping for lunch in little more than an hour. The doctor warned me that you would tire easily and that I should make certain you aren't overtaxed."

  In other words, she thought to herself, he was through answering her questions. Not that she blamed him. Nothing that she had learned had surprised her, but she was depressed to learn the condition of her marriage was as bad as she'd been told to expect.

  The reason she was saddened by the confirmation was that she had discovered today that she liked Raoul DuBois. Given his perspective of their situation, she knew that he had handled himself well despite his personal feelings. She was sorry he had such a poor opinion of her, even while she understood why he did.

  She adjusted her seat into a reclining position and closed her eyes with a sense of relief. Sleep had become her haven when she no longer wanted to face the life she had made for herself. For a little while she could escape.

  Raoul awakened her sometime later. She opened her eyes and blinked, looking around in surprise. From the change in the landscape she realized she must have been asleep for some time.

  They were on the outskirts of a village that looked as though it hadn't changed in a hundred years.. Enthralled by the sight, she couldn't seem to look fast enough to see everything she wanted to see. Small shops, narrow streets, flowers in bloom... all of them caught her eye.

  "Oh, this is beautiful. Where are we?"

  Raoul told her the name of the town while he turned into a side street and parked. With his usual grave politeness he helped her from the car and guided her down the sidewalk to a small outdoor cafe.

  A waiter immediately joined them, rattling off a list of the day's specials and discussing the wine list with Raoul.

  Once the waiter left, Sherye leaned forward in her chair and asked, "Could you explain something to me?"

  He sat across the table from her, still wearing the dark shades so that she couldn't see the expression in his eyes. "I'll try," he replied.

  "Tell me how we met. Help me to understand what drew us together in the first place. There's so much I don't know."

  As though discussing two other people, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You were with a crew doing a modeling shoot on the Riviera. I was there on business. We met on the beach and began talking. You had just arrived, while I was scheduled to leave the next morning."

  The waiter appeared with their orders. While they ate, Raoul continued his story. "I ended up staying another week, despite the need to return to my business concerns. I went with you each day and watched you work." His express
ion softened and his voice lowered. "You were magnificent. You knew how to project whatever image necessary to make a man see you as the fulfillment of all of his fantasies." As though focusing on the present once more, he shrugged and in a hard voice said, "You still do."

  Taken aback by his sudden bitterness, she could only ask, "What do you mean?"

  "You play the bewildered amnesiac so well. You've portrayed the woman I fell in love with most convincingly since your accident. I thought she was gone. I had accepted the fact that she had never existed anywhere other than my own mind." He picked up his wineglass and silently saluted her before finishing the wine. "You have quite a gift, my dear. That's the way you ensnare us, you know."

  "I've done nothing, Raoul," she protested, sorry to see the grim mask appear once again.

  "I know," he agreed immediately, surprising her. "It's all second nature to you."

  When he didn't say anything more, she asked, "How long did we know each other before we married?"

  His cynicism hit her like a winging dart. "Long enough for you to convince me that your career meant nothing to you in comparison to your love for me. I returned home when you flew back to New York at the end of your assignment. I needed to clear my brain, to try to look at the situation logically.. .sanely. But I couldn't resist calling you. We talked many times over the next few weeks. I wanted you, but was realistic enough to understand that we came from different backgrounds and cultures."

  Raoul leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You explained to me how you'd spent your entire life yearning for a home. That you had been raised by a single mother who'd had difficulty supporting the two of you. You finally convinced me that living with me and my family at the chateau would be a dream come true for you." His smile held no humor. "I allowed myself to become convinced." He shrugged. "And so... we were married."