Intimate Strangers

by Denise Mathews

  "Sara… Sara, what's wrong?" Ted was kneeling in front of her, rubbing her hands and looking worriedly into her face.

  She opened her eyes and looked down at Ted with tears of anguish shimmering in them, ready to spill over. "Oh, Ted." Sara started to sob. The hurt spread its paralyzing fingers around her heart. She wanted to curl into a little ball. Ted gently helped her to her feet and walked her into his office. He guided her to a chair and perched himself on the edge of his desk facing her. Handing her some tissues, he waited for her to pull herself together.

  Sara sniffled and looked up at Ted with a watery smile. "I'm sorry, Ted. I'm not sick, at least not physically. It's this damned article." She waved the magazine under his nose that she held tightly clutched in her hand.

  He took the magazine from her and quickly scanned the story then looked over at Sara, sharing a little of her misery. "Damn, I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't know. If I had, I would have thrown the stupid thing in the trash, where, I might add, it belongs." He leaned over and brushed some stray hair off Sara's face. She started crying again. She couldn't cope with his sympathy.

  "Everything's there for everyone to see and gossip about. Did you read, people are making bets over who gets Roarke, Suzanne or me? I didn't know," she sobbed. "How could I have known he's been dating her for over a year. Suzanne came to the house the other night, telling me she was my friend… my friend?" Sara jumped to her feet and started pacing the office. "He lied to me too. He let her pretend to be my friend. Why? And… and, I thought maybe we could mend our marriage, and here my husband has a girl friend."

  She swung around and pointed an accusing finger at Ted. "And you knew we were separated before the accident! You knew and didn't tell me, and you call yourself my friend."

  "Sara." Ted's face blanched white, sorrow turning his eyes dark. "Yes, I did know," he said compassionately. "Roarke begged me not to tell you."

  "Begged?" Sara broke in. "Roarke begged? The only reason he begged was so he could have his cake and eat it too. And you… you're an accessory. How could you do this to me, Ted? How could you?"

  The gray head lowered. "I didn't go along with Roarke to hurt you, Sara. How would you have felt if I had told you that you were going home with a husband you've been separated from for some time? Would you have gone? Besides, I'm thoroughly convinced you have to remember on your own. It's the only way it's going to work. I'm sorry, Sara. I would never do anything to hurt you."

  She stood by the desk, wringing her hands, ignoring Ted's plaintive explanation. "Did you read what they said about me? It sounds as if I went out with a different man every night. Is Roarke right about me, am I a spider spinning webs, trying to capture any and every man I can? And I thought the love I feel for him would magically make it work out. How naive!" Her voice rose hysterically.

  "Sara, Sara, calm down. You have to calm down. Why are you letting this upset you so much? This is just gossip! There has to be an explanation. He doesn't care about Suzanne. I saw a shell of a man wait three days at the hospital for one word about you. I know he loves you. Can't you believe that?" Ted went over to Sara and put one of his huge arms around her shoulders.

  She buried her face in his chest for a moment, then lifted her eyes and cried out, "He keeps putting walls between us, Ted. Just when I think I'm getting close he builds another wall. I don't understand him. When I compare the face I see to the one in this picture, it's like he's two different men. What happened to make him like this? Why can't he be honest with me about the past? He's afraid I will remember. Why?" Sara pulled away, holding Ted's eyes with her sad ones. "I'll be honest, Ted. I don't know if I want to remember either. There's something bad in the past that's disturbing to Roarke, and I'm afraid too."

  Ted sat down on the edge of his desk again. "Have you remembered anything at all?"

  Sara's face contorted with agony. Her mind flashed back to the mirrored images of Roarke and herself. "Oh, yes, and one memory was horrible! I accused Roarke of cheating on me and I didn't stop until I had driven him away. When I asked Roarke what had happened, he said that he left for just a couple of days and when he returned to the house, we made up. But I didn't even know myself, I was this accusing, screaming shrew, driving Roarke out of our home. Did I drive him into Suzanne's arms? Why did I leave him? Was it over her? Or… or did I have someone?" Sara wiped her tear-filled eyes. "I'm so afraid. I don't know who I am. Am I the screaming shrew of my memory, or is this who I am? Am I a man-chaser or am I what I feel now? All I want is a life with Roarke and it seems it's too late for that. I don't know who is the illusion and who is real. And now this humiliation." Sara put her head into her hands and cried silently, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. "I can't stand anymore."

  Ted took her into his arms and stroked her back, murmuring soothing words.

  "If you're finished examining Sara, I'd like to take her home." Roarke stood woodenly in the doorway of Ted's office, his face etched with fury.

  Sara's mouth opened in shock and Ted dropped his arm from around her and walked over to Roarke with his hand outstretched. "Good morning, Roarke."

  Roarke's eyes were smoldering. For one breathless second Sara thought Roarke would ignore Ted's extended hand, but after a slight hesitation they shook hands perfunctorily. "Good morning," Roarke said shortly. He looked at Sara, who was standing motionless in the middle of the office. "Are you ready to leave, Sara?"

  She glanced from Roarke to Ted with panic. "Yes, Roarke,"

  Ted interjected. "She's ready to leave. She's doing just fine. If she would just gain a little more weight, I'd be very pleased with her." Sara sagged with relief. Ted didn't mention that he hadn't examined her.

  "Fine. I'll wait for you in the car, Sara," Roarke said curtly. He nodded to Ted and left them both standing in the middle of the office, staring after him.

  "I think Roarke misunderstood what he saw when he walked in. He misread my sympathy for you and made something more of it. I'm so sorry, Sara." Ted shook his head in bewilderment.

  "Yes, I know. He doesn't trust me and I doubt if he'll listen to me." Sara gathered up her purse. "May I keep this?" she asked, holding up the crumpled magazine. At Ted's nod Sara stuffed it into her purse.

  "Sara, one of these days when you're in town, stop by and I'll do your checkup. You don't have to make an appointment." Ted kissed her on the forehead. "Have faith, Joe," he said, smiling at her tenderly. Sara smiled weakly and with the tips of her fingers she touched his cheek affectionately.

  Slowly walking toward Roarke's car, she tried to calm herself and delay the confrontation she felt would occur. She didn't know what kind of scene she'd have to face with him. The sad thing was she didn't care anymore. She was tired of explaining, proving, watching every move she made and every word she spoke.

  Her heart had been like a fallow field waiting to be planted,, planted with the seeds of her past life. The seeds of love that were already there, waiting to be nurtured, wanting to grow and blossom, were shriveling from neglect.

  She climbed into the car and sat rigidly beside him, not uttering a sound. She didn't look at him but kept her eyes straight ahead and stared blindly out the windshield. She was determined not to be defensive.

  Roarke didn't talk either. He eased the car into the traffic and concentrated on his driving until they were out of the city.

  Sara's heart sank to the pit of her stomach when she saw Roarke pull the car off the highway and park beside the road. He shut off the engine, turned in his seat, and stared at her unblinkingly. "I thought you had an appointment for a checkup?" His voice was cold and felt like a dagger of ice penetrating her.

  Sara, equally cool and controlled, met his eyes, at least she hoped she appeared that way. "I did have an appointment," she stated shortly.

  Roarke reached across and gripped her arm. "Then why was he making love to you?" he demanded, his tone menacing.

  Sara jerked her arm away. "He was not making love to me. I was upset and crying. Ted was just trying to b
e sympathetic." She sat rigidly in the seat and faced him without flinching from his hostile, angry eyes. She was angry now! How dare he accuse her of being unfaithful, he of all people! And, of all things, in a doctor's office with a waiting room full of people. Maybe she wasn't a shrew after all. Maybe he had always accused her of being unfaithful. Maybe she had been retaliating on his level.

  "Why were you crying?" His voice lost its edge of harshness.

  Sara reached into her purse and threw the magazine at him. "Because of this!" She turned her back on him.

  After several tense minutes Roarke's voice filtered through her angry thoughts. "Where in the hell did you find this?" He sounded drained and leaden.

  "I was looking through it while I was in Ted's waiting room. I won't lie to you; it upset me. I started crying and Ted took me into his office. I guess he didn't want me to make a scene in front of his other patients." Sara continued to face the window.

  "It's just a trashy gossip column. Why would this upset you to the point that Maxwell would have to put his arms around you to make you feel better?"

  "Well, in the first place, I didn't know you and Suzanne were dating. And in the second place, people are taking bets whether Suzanne or I will win the first prize! Our lives have been exposed to anyone who can pay the money to buy this garbage. And what about where it says that Suzanne is your constant companion, even while I was in the hospital listening to all those pep talks from you. Is it true? Whose friend is she, Roarke? Did you date her while we were married? 'Marriage-Go-Round Roulette!' It's more like musical beds!"

  "Musical beds? That's more in your line, Sara, not mine." He threw the magazine back at her and restarted the engine.

  Sara kept her back to him the remainder of the ride home. She couldn't have spoken if she had tried. Anger and hurt stuck in her throat, and she was surprised she could even breathe.

  He drove up in front of the house and stopped the car but didn't turn off the engine. "I'm not coming in. I'm going back to the office. I don't know when I'll be home." His voice was cold and he kept his eyes straight ahead, not looking at Sara.

  Sara grabbed the magazine and stuffed it back into her purse, got out of the car, and slammed the door. She practically ran into the house past a surprised Bradley, who had opened the door for her, and went straight to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her.

  Leaning against the locked door, staring into space, Sara was too numb to feel anything. If only her memory would come back, she could leave Roarke, leave all this distress, jealousy, and anger.

  She threw her purse on the bed and flung herself down in the chaise. She sat staring glassy-eyed in front of the blank TV. Suddenly the TV was filled with shadowy apparitions of Roarke and Suzanne. They were dressed in evening clothes and groups of other people were milling around them. Then a couple walked out of the crowd toward them. It was she with a very attractive man. The man's arm was draped over her shoulder and he was laughing down at her, his eyes filled with warm affection.

  Sara was mesmerized and became the audience to the scene being played out before her on the TV.

  The Sara on the screen glanced up and saw Roarke and Suzanne standing in front of her. "Hello, Sara. I didn't know you had been invited to the party," Suzanne purred, holding onto Roarke's arm possessively.

  "Hello, Roarke, Suzanne. I'm always invited to the Hedges' parties. Linda and I went to school together. How's Martha, Roarke?" Sara turned her attention to Roarke and met his hostile eyes. She deliberately cut Suzanne out of the conversation.

  Roarke looked from Sara to the man who had pulled her closer to him. "I see you have another friend," Roarke said, Barely concealing the disgust in his voice.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Brian, this is Roarke." Sara smiled up at Brian with affection that the watching Sara felt sure was for the benefit of their audience. The TV Sara still ignored Suzanne.

  Roarke sloughed off the introduction and answered Sara's earlier question. "Martha and Bradley are fine. I'll tell them you asked about them. Now if you'll excuse us?" Roarke put his hand over Suzanne's that held him tightly at the crook of his arm.

  "Good night, Roarke," Sara answered.

  Roarke and Suzanne started moving through the crowd of people, but before Sara could turn around, Suzanne was back without Roarke.

  "Sara, I think you should seriously consider having Martha come to work for you when Roarke and I are married. I will not tolerate that woman in my house," Suzanne confided.

  Pulling herself up to her full height, which was still inches shorter than Suzanne, Sara smiled one of her sweetest smiles. "Suzanne, you're forgetting one little thing. Before you can marry Roarke, he should be divorced from me." Sara moved to stand closer to Suzanne, placed her hand on Suzanne's arm, and bent her head toward the woman, as if to share a secret. "One thing you can count on"—Sara patted Suzanne's arm—"Martha will never be out of a job with Roarke." Sara laughed merrily as a flush burned its way up Suzanne's neck. "We live in hope, don't we?" Still laughing, she grabbed Brian's arm, turned on her heel, and left Suzanne glaring after them, seething with anger.

  Sara's vision cleared and she was again staring at the blank TV. Was I really that spiteful? Was… no… is Roarke in love with Suzanne? Has he asked Suzanne to marry him when I divorce him?

  She flung herself out of the chaise and started pacing the room. I can't stay cooped up in here. Sara looked out the window. I have to get out of here! She didn't see anyone on her way out of the house and closed the front door quietly behind her.

  Walking into a wooded area, she stopped to watch some squirrels playing tag among the trees. She sat down on the fresh green grass quietly, not wanting to frighten the little animals away. Their antics became more outrageous when they realized they had an appreciative audience. The sun was hot and its light shining through the leaves dappled the ground with shadows that shimmered and bounced around where she sat. The squirrels became more curious and moved closer to her. She held out her empty hands to show them she didn't have any food, but it didn't seem to matter to them. They cavorted and played for her benefit anyway.

  Suddenly there was something behind her. She sat rigidly as her heart pounded with fear when she felt a cold, wet something touch her shoulder. Turning her head very slowly, she looked up into the brown eyes of a huge black dog. Sara didn't know what to do. If she got up and tried to run, the dog might attack her. She didn't move a muscle. After sniffing at her hair for several seconds, the dog walked around and sat down in front of her. Extending his paw to Sara, he waited for her to respond to his gesture of friendship.

  Sara giggled with relief and at the comical horse of a dog wanting to be friends. She solemnly took the paw extended to her and shook it. "Hello, I'm pleased to meet you. I'm even more pleased that you decided to be friends. I don't quite know what I would have done if you hadn't."

  The dog stood up and put his nose into Sara's face and gave her several sloppy kisses on her cheek. Sara fell back laughing onto the ground and tried to ward off any more affection from her new friend.

  She sat up and saw that the dog had picked up a stick in his mouth, his eyes begging Sara to throw it for him. "I don't feel that saying no to you would be a good idea, so I'll play."

  Sara threw the stick until she felt she couldn't lift her arm anymore. Sitting down, she told the dog it was time for some rest and was surprised that the dog immediately dropped the stick. He came over beside her and dropped to the ground. He lay down with his head in her lap and Sara patted the silky black neck.

  After a few minutes the dog's ears perked up and he jumped to his feet beside Sara with an air of expectation. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Roarke casually leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. Realizing Sara had seen him, he walked slowly over to where she sat on the ground.

  The dog danced around Sara as though he were trying to tell Roarke about his new friend. Roarke patted the dog. "Good boy, Zoe," he said, then turned his attention from the dog to Sara.
"Why didn't you tell someone where you were going?"

  "I didn't know I had to report my moves to anyone. From now on I will," Sara retorted.

  Roarke sat down on the ground beside Sara, and the dog lay in front of them. "You don't have to report to anyone," Roarke snapped at her. "Martha was panicked when I came in. She said you had been gone all afternoon and no one had seen you leave the house. I'm not talking about reporting in, I'm talking about a little consideration for others."

  Sara looked into eyes that were cold and a face that was impassive. "I'll apologize to Martha. I didn't mean to worry her, but I just couldn't stay cooped up in the house any longer. Besides, I made several new friends today, including this black beauty." She pointed to the dog.

  "Zoe makes friends quite easily. Since when were you interested in making friends with him? A little over two years ago you told me you didn't even want him in the house." Roarke sounded perplexed and he stroked the dog's black head protectively.

  "He's your dog then?" Sara asked. She reached over and also petted the animal. Zoe lay perfectly still with his head between his huge paws. But his eyes moved back and forth from one human to the other. Occasionally, as though beyond his control, his tail would flick back and forth.

  "I bought him as a gift for you. I was traveling a lot and I thought a dog would be good protection for you, but the first time he had an accident in the house, you threw him out."

  A vague memory flitted into her thoughts then grew stronger until she remembered the dream she had of Roarke giving her a package. "I wasn't dreaming then," she murmured.

  "What did you say?" Roarke's gruff voice halted the hope that had been blossoming.

  Sara looked back up into his eyes and winced at the frigid gaze that iced her heart. "Do you allow him in the house now?" she asked softly, Stroking the silky head once more.

  "Yes, but he's kept either in my study or in the kitchen. He's gotten used to having his movements restricted. Are you ready to go home?" He stood up, brushed off his trousers, and waited for her to answer.