"So you think she set you up?"
"Absolutely, even if I can't actually prove it."
Janine moved over to the sofa, sat next to Alisha and took her hand. "I'm sorry all of this had to happen to you. You've never done anything to deserve this kind of treatment."
Alisha gave her a weary smile. "Now you sound like Raoul. The worst of it is over for me. He still has to live with it every day, wondering if Sherye's ever going to regain consciousness or whether she'll remain in a coma indefinitely."
"You're very much in love with him, I can see that."
"I never said that."
"You don't have to. It shows every time you mention his name. From everything you've told me, he must feel the same way."
"It doesn't matter how either one of us feels. Nothing can ever come of it. I intend to put all of this behind me. Just to satisfy my own curiosity, I'm going to discover the truth about our respective births. Then I'm putting it all out of my mind. As far as anyone will ever know, I spent the summer here in Dallas. I know nothing about the former model, Sherye, her French husband or her fast life-style."
"Whatever you say. But some things aren't so easily forgotten."
❧
As part of her teaching routine, Alisha regularly scheduled her annual physical the week before school started. She felt ready for her checkup this year. She'd been dragging around the house with no energy since she got home, blaming it on a combination of the heat, the humidity and the residual trauma from her head wound and amnesia. Either that or she had a permanent case of jet lag.
After dutifully turning her body over to the dubious delights of a medical examination, plus answering the doctor's questions and readily admitting to a lingering bout of lethargy, Alisha dressed and waited for the doctor to join her in his office. She hoped he'd offer some helpful suggestions on how she could boost her energy. Otherwise teaching a group of high-spirited girls was going to be a real challenge for her.
She'd been going to the same doctor for years and felt comfortable with him. When he walked into his office looking preoccupied she said, "I won't take up any more of your time, Troy. I know your waiting room's full and I—"
"Sit down, Alisha," he said, walking around his desk to his chair. He tossed her file down in front of him. "I'm never too busy for you, and you know it." He settled comfortably into his chair, tilted his head and looked at her over the top of his rimless glasses. "Besides, I think we need to have a little talk."
She'd made light of her head injury, admitting to occasional headaches that were becoming less frequent and less severe. There was no reason for him to look so worried. Determined to treat the whole thing as lightly as possible, she gave a little chuckle and said, "Uh-oh. I bet I'm anemic, aren't I? Actually, I'm not surprised. I seem to have lost my appetite lately and—"
"Alisha," he quietly interrupted her, "do you remember at the time you had your miscarriage that I told you there was no reason why you couldn't have a healthy, normal pregnancy?"
Pregnancy.
She froze when she heard the word. She'd ignored the possibility. No! She didn't want to think about it! She refused to consider that there was even a remote chance that she could be—
The doctor continued speaking as though what he was reporting was an everyday, run-of-the-mill occurrence. Of course, from his perspective, it was. "You've tested positive for pregnancy, Alisha. I would say you're close to six weeks along, making your due date around the last of March or first part of April."
Alisha stared at him in horror. No. He was mistaken. She couldn't be pregnant. She wasn't married. She was alone. She had a position of responsibility at a girls' school where she was expected to preserve, promote and maintain high moral standards.
Hadn't she had to deal with enough trauma in her life? Hadn't the events of the summer been difficult enough to overcome without long-term repercussions such as an unplanned, potentially explosive pregnancy to complicate matters?
The doctor watched her reactions with concern and compassion. After giving her a few moments to adjust to the obvious complications a pregnancy would create for her, he leaned forward in his chair and said, "As your doctor and as your friend, I guess the question I have to ask you now is—what do you intend to do about it?"
Chapter 14
A strong gust of wind swept over the hillside, rattling the dry leaves that dotted the carefully groomed grounds of the cemetery.
Raoul stood beside the open grave while the priest's voice droned on, barely impinging on his thoughts. He held Jules with one arm while Yvette clutched his other hand with a fierce grip.
Danielle stood next to Yvette, while Maman stood beside Raoul. Few people had come to the graveside service. Raoul had kept the news of Sherye's death quiet, not wanting the media to sensationalize the family's troubles.
During the past four months he'd spent most of his time at Sherye's side. He had talked to her during the long hours as though she were aware of his presence. At times he asked questions. At other times he shared his pain and confusion with her.
He told her about Alisha, he asked how Sherye had found her, how she had known of her existence. He promised her help and understanding if she would awaken.
Sherye never gave an indication that she heard him, but over the months he found a certain peace and release in expressing his turmoil over her behavior.
The early-morning call two days ago from the hospital saying that Sherye had slipped away sometime during the night had caught him unprepared to have his bedside vigil over. He'd felt a sense of rage from the knowledge that once again Sherye had escaped the consequences of her actions without ever having to face them. Now as he watched the final scene of her life being played out, Raoul could acknowledge how dearly Sherye had paid for her actions. She'd forfeited her life.
He doubted that he would ever know what drove her to such extreme behavior. It no longer mattered. He recognized his own sense of inadequacy that he hadn't been able to make a difference.
A rumbling in the dark gray clouds overhead drew his attention and he glanced up, hoping that the rain would hold off until the service ended.
He studied the people standing opposite the family. Most of them lived and worked for the chateau and winery. None of Sherye's friends were there. He had made no effort to contact them, since he hadn't heard or seen anything of them since she was brought back to France.
He had wondered if the man known as Mario would appear. Had he managed to stay in touch with the hospital to monitor Sherye's condition? Did he care? Did he feel any responsibility for what had happened to her?
The priest was concluding his remarks and the casket was slowly being lowered into the ground when Raoul returned his thoughts to the service. Yvette buried her face against his leg. Raoul placed his hand on her head and gently stroked her hair.
Jules had fallen asleep, his head tucked into Raoul's shoulder.
Later the family rode back to the chateau in silence, each lost in his and her own thoughts. The rain that had been threatening arrived, beating against the limousine Raoul had hired to provide the family transportation. In some way the weather seemed fitting, as though the rain was Mother Nature's tears shed for one of her lost children.
As much as Raoul had attempted to protect the children from the strain of Sherye's death, he knew that Yvette had been deeply affected. The bubbly little girl who had danced across the lawns with her puppy had said very little since the news of her mother's death. Whatever she was feeling, she kept it locked inside.
He knew that she had suffered from the loss of Alisha in her life. She had cried for her, as had Jules. He understood their loss but was helpless to combat it.
You are free now, the tiny voice in bis head whispered, repeating a refrain that had been running over and over in his head. He hated the voice, hated the grinding guilt that immediately followed in the Wake of the tempting siren's call.
He knew that the medical profession had done everything they coul
d to help Sherye. They had explained that her abused body hadn't been able to fight the long-term effects of her drug use.
He hadn't wanted her to die, even though he knew that he no longer loved her. Perhaps he could have dealt with honest grief better had he still been in love with her. Now his grief was strongly interwoven with guilt.
They arrived at the chateau and Raoul spent the rest of the afternoon with the children. It was after dinner that night, after Maman had gone upstairs, that Danielle asked, "Did you let Alisha know about Sherye?"
They were seated in front of the fire. Raoul had poured each of them a snif ter of brandy.
He stared into his glass for a long moment before he answered. "No."
"I think she would want to know, don't you?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps. Then again, perhaps she has already placed all of the unfortunate events of last summer behind her."
"Have you been in contact with her since she returned to her home?"
"Once, on the day she arrived. After that there was no reason to stay in touch. She said that most of her memory had returned, that her home and the city all seemed familiar. Hopefully, she's fully recovered from what happened to her."
"Are you aware she still sends the children notes and small souvenirs from Texas?''
"I would have to be deaf and blind to miss them. The only time Yvette is animated at all is when she's heard from Alisha."
"I was amazed at how quickly she formed a bond with them. Perhaps we should have realized that such an abrupt change in personality could not take place."
"According to the doctors, such changes are not all that unusual for some severely injured people who recover. I thought that Sherye had at long last recognized how much her family meant to her."
"Does Alisha have any children?"
"No."
"That's too bad. She's so good with them."
"All right, Danielle! That's enough. You're about as subtle as a sledgehammer! I doubt very much that Alisha Conrad would appreciate being offered the opportunity to become a permanent stand-in as wife and mother in this household."
Pleased that she had managed to break through his reserve and get him to express what he was feeling, Danielle hid her smile by taking a sip from her glass. After a long silence that seemed to stretch into the shadowy corners of the room, Danielle once again set out to shake Raoul out of his brooding mood.
"How do you know unless you ask her?"
"You're being ridiculous," he muttered.
"And you've buried your head in the sand like a silly ostrich, which tends to put a person into a very awkward stance. You're just asking for someone to come along behind you and kick you in the derriere."
"I take it you're self-appointed for the task."
"If necessary."
"The idea is preposterous. Alisha has her own career, her own circle of friends. She may be involved with someone else by now... possibly married.''
"At least you've given the matter some thought."
He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, realizing how much he'd betrayed himself. For months he had sat beside Sherye and looked for her resemblance to Alisha, finding tiny touches of comfort when he noted them. What a damnably awkward situation. Alisha would never be able to understand that he had felt nothing but contempt for his wife and had only fallen in love when Alisha had taken on the role. He found it a little difficult to understand himself. All he knew was that it had happened.
"I think you owe it to yourself to see her once more now that you are free to make a new life for yourself."
"My God, Danielle, we just buried Sherye a few hours ago!"
"And I watched you for months bury yourself every day at the hospital while you sat by Sherye's side without her ever being aware of your presence."
"We don't know that for certain."
"Are you feeling guilty because you couldn't die along with her?"
"Enough, Danielle. Enough."
She got up and came over to him, kneeling beside his chair. "Stop sacrificing yourself, Raoul. Stop denying your own needs. Anyone who knows you and loves you as I docould see the difference that Alisha made in your life. It was not your fault that you believed her to be Sherye. Sherye herself must have been responsible. Surely you're not blaming Alisha, are you? Do you think she and Sherye planned it together?"
"No! She'd been drugged and struck a severe blow to her head. She could have died. Of course she had nothing to do with it."
"Then the two of you are innocent of everything but the natural and very human act of getting to know each other and falling in love."
"It was nothing so clear-cut as that. Alisha thought she was married to me, so she assumed she loved me. When she found out the truth, I'm sure she was embarrassed, as was I, and would just as soon not be reminded of the awkwardness of our situation."
"That doesn't take into account your feelings, though, does it? Don't you feel that you deserve a chance at happiness after all this time?"
"What is your point, Danielle? God knows you've hammered at this subject long enough. What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to admit your feelings for Alisha, at least to yourself, and then I want you to go see her. Tell her how you feel, find out how she feels. Create an opportunity where you can discuss the matter." She touched his cheek. "You've always been one to fight other people's battles. Now you need to fight for your own happiness."
He shook his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation today, of all days."
"We are having this conversation today because it's the first time I've had an opportunity to see you for more than five minutes at a time since you returned to France from Australia last summer."
"You're correct in one regard. I spent most of my time during these past few months either at the hospital or with the children and I have a business to run. I don't have time to go dashing about the world chasing fantasies."
Danielle shook her head and stood. "I give up, Raoul. You are a hopeless case."
He looked up at her, his eyes shadowed. "Thank you for caring about me. I appreciate your concern."
"Good night, Raoul. I'm going to bed."
❧
Bright sunshine and temperate air greeted Raoul when he stepped out of the terminal at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport four days after Christmas. He hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address he'd memorized months ago.
Raoul had spent the past two days in New York on business. When he left France he hadn't intended to fly to Dallas. There had been a problem with a major shipment of wine to New York that had been ordered for a New Year's celebration. He had flown to the United States to deal with the matter personally.
The face-to-face meeting with his client had gone a long way toward soothing injured feelings and any misunderstandings that had occurred. He had left the man the evening before, well satisfied with the outcome. The crisis had been successfully averted.
He'd returned to his hotel room with a sense of relief. He'd done what he'd set out to do. Now he could return home, having accomplished his mission. However, instead of immediately arranging for a flight home, his thoughts turned to Alisha.
Here he was in New York, on her side of the Atlantic after all. A few hours flight would put him in Dallas. There was nothing to prevent him from dropping by to see how she was doing, was there?
He considered calling her to make certain she was home. Schools were presently closed for the holidays. She could be out of town, visiting friends. He would be foolish to fly to Dallas unless he knew for sure that she would be home.
In the end, however, he didn't call. He knew he was being a coward. He wasn't at all sure she would have invited him to visit if he contacted her. She might not want to see him.
He didn't want to give her a chance to say no.
If she wasn't there, then he would return to the airport, get a room nearby and book a flight out for the next morning. In the meantime he would see the city of Dallas for th
e first time. He would get to see where Alisha lived.
To be able to visit the area where she livedo worked and spent her days would help him better visualize her life. Besides, he had nothing better to do in the next few days. The family didn't expect to see him until after the first of the year. He would treat the time spent here as a vacation. Even if Alisha wasn't at home, he might rent a car and explore the area on his own.
By the time the taxi turned down the quiet street where she lived, Raoul had convinced himself that it was perfectly natural to casually mention that he had been in the neighborhood and thought he'd stop by to say hello.
He got out of the cab and glanced around. Neatly manicured lawns, lush and green despite the December date, graced the area. He saw several shades of golden flowers in bJoom.
"Would you mind waiting until I see if anyone is there?" he asked. Since he gave the driver a large tip along with his fare he wasn't too surprised when the man readily agreed.
Raoul carried his small bag up the walk, carefully set the bag down in an unobtrusive place and rang the doorbell. He waited, but there was no sound of movement inside. There was no sound at all—no music, no voices, no radio or television.
She wasn't home.
Well, what had he expected, after all? he reminded himself. He punched the bell one more time, glanced at his watch, then out to the waiting cab.
He felt as though his body had suddenly gained two hundred additional pounds. He wasn't going to be able to see her, after all. He was leaning over to pick up his bag when he heard a slight noise on the other side of the door.
He spun around in time to hear the bolt of the lock being moved. The door eased open. He fought to control his unruly emotions, which had been bouncing around for the past several hours like a roomful of yo-yos.
It was Alisha. Since the light was behind him, he knew she couldn't see his features clearly. He had a moment to stare at her before she recognized him.
She looked wonderful to him. Absolutely wonderful. She was wearing an emerald green robe that fell from her shoulders like a voluminous tent. She'd cut her hair into a shorter, more casual style and lightened the color to a soft red. He'd forgotten how green her eyes were.
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