Sara stood up and walked beside Roarke in silence. At the house Roarke left Sara standing in the hall and went into his study without a word to her. Zoe followed his master, but Sara saw the dog turn around and look at her with his soft brown eyes and a slight movement of his tail.
Slowly she climbed the stairs, deep in thought, went to her room, and walked out onto the balcony. Sitting back in the chaise longue, she let the tumultuous thoughts flow freely. She could not go on like this. Whether her memory returned or not, she'd have to leave this house. Whether she loved Roarke or not was immaterial now. Her flashbacks of memories, the story in the magazine, and the pendulum of Roarke's moods swinging her from anger to love and back again made her realize they couldn't build any kind of life together. The past would always stand between them.
The thought cut through her like a knife. Roarke's laughing face floated in front of her eyes. She ached with her love for him. If only I could bring laughter to his face. But instead I fill him with anger and bitterness. I have to find some other place to go. Maybe without my presence here he could start rebuilding his life and I could find mine. She hit her fist on the arm of the longue. She'd give him a divorce! She wouldn't play games with him anymore as she apparently had done in the past.
Sara stood and leaned against the railing that edged the balcony. I love him so much, she cried to herself. Why does it have to be this way? Why can we find happiness only with other people? She knew then that they could never be anything more than intimate strangers.
CHAPTER NINE
Pulling back the heavy damask drape, Sara looked out at the vast dark sky sprinkled with stars. The glow from the city lit up the horizon, fringing the distant low hills. She opened the sliding window and stepped out onto the balcony.
Roarke wasn't home. He left when they got back to the house. She wondered if he was going to stay out all night. His absence aroused her curiosity. But his not being here gave her some time to think about what she was going to do and how she was going to accomplish it. The hardest decision had been made earlier; she would divorce him. Now she needed to decide how to eliminate herself from his life.
A mockingbird trilled, echoing through the quiet night. Its mimicry of another's love call struck a poignant chord in Sara. She shivered at the melancholy sound. Nostalgia filled Sara's heart, a nostalgia she didn't understand. She pictured long lazy summer evenings sitting on a veranda, sipping a cooling drink; walking through lush woods filled with wild flowers; feeding a horse sugar lumps taken from her pocket and the horse nuzzling her neck. Sweet fragrant nights, listening to the crickets and cicada chirping their summer serenade in the dusk, fireflies flitting in and out of the lilac bushes, lighting pathways for others.
This nostalgia made Sara ache with wistful longings. She couldn't remember actually doing or seeing these things and wanted desperately to be able to remember. Somewhere she must have experienced all of this, otherwise why would she have such a longing?
All these feelings made her more resolute in her decision to find somewhere else to go. She needed to belong somewhere. She didn't belong here! The pressure in this house was intolerable. It was like living with a time bomb. Roarke's indifference to her pleas for understanding was worse than his accusing her of betraying his trust. It was a wall she couldn't break through.
She didn't know where to go. She couldn't ask Martha too many questions because she didn't want anyone to know she was planning to leave. She'd have to think of a good excuse to leave the house, one that didn't raise any suspicions with anyone.
A restlessness suddenly seized her. She had made a decision and the futility of not being able to carry it through right this . minute frustrated her. She went back into her room and saw the crumpled magazine laying on the table. Picking it up, forced to punish herself, Sara reread the article about Roarke and Suzanne. It was self-inflicted torture, but each time she read through it and remembered the scene with Roarke on their way home from Ted's office, her determination to leave became stronger. Suddenly one line from the story swam in front of her eyes. "Sara Alexander had taken up residence in the couple's Washington apartment."
Sara knew where she would go! She'd find out where the apartment was, get the keys, and stay there until she could figure out her next move. There must be some way for her to get the information without anyone questioning her motives.
Sara sat for hours, plotting ideas, then quickly rejecting the plots. The agitation of wanting to do something positive, immediately, and knowing she'd have to wait until tomorrow made her pace the room. She had to forcibly subdue the impulse to run, run away from the house, run away from Roarke, run away from herself.
Spotting headlights coming up the driveway, she hastily moved away from the window. She didn't want Roarke to know she was still awake. The thought of facing his cold insensibility or his self-righteous condemnation left her shaking and sick to her stomach.
Turning out all the lights, she listened for the sounds of Roarke's presence in the house. Sitting on the edge of the bed for what seemed an eternity, she heard nothing. After a while her curiosity overcame her reticence to confront Roarke and she tiptoed out of her room and silently trod down the stairs.
There was no one in the hall, but a lighted sconce cast her dancing shadow on the walls, giving her an eerie feeling of not really being alone. Sara proceeded stealthily to Roarke's study and stood at the door listening for any sounds that might emanate from inside the room. She heard nothing.
Very cautiously turning the knob, inching the door open, she prayed Roarke wasn't in the study. If he were in there, she'd have to think of a good reason for her intrusion into his private sanctum. Peering around the edge of the door, she saw that the only light in the room came from a small desk lamp someone had left on. It shed its light grudgingly over the top of the desk, but the glow dissipated as it vied with the darkness in the rest of the room, and in the corners, darkness took over. She looked around, and as far as she could tell the study was empty. Feeling some of the tension leave her tightened muscles, Sara moved into the room then gasped as a shadow moved from behind the desk. She laughed in relief to see Zoe, the huge great Dane, standing before her, his tail wagging in excited recognition. Bending down and stroking him lovingly, she suddenly became aware of just how lonely she was.
"Well, old boy, you've won me over. I abjectly apologize for my past mistakes," Sara whispered to the prancing dog. "Come on, Zoe, tonight you share my room." Sara encouraged the dog with a low whistle and after quietly closing the study door, they went silently up the stairs.
The strain of the day caught up with her, and after a few comforting words to the confused but excited dog, Sara went to bed. Zoe put a cautious paw on the footboard of her bed and she pretended not to notice when the dog climbed up onto the bed and lay down. She chuckled at how the huge animal seemed to control his movements in slow motion as he maneuvered his gigantic body until he was comfortable.
Later, when Roarke couldn't find the dog, he slowly opened Sara's door and heard the rumble of Zoe's protective growl. Roarke entered the room and reassured him that he meant her no harm. As he left the room, Roarke stood in the doorway staring at the woman lying in the bed, her hair spraying over the pillow like golden strands of silk in the light from the hallway. "Please don't remember yet, Sara," he whispered. Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he quietly closed the door behind him.
"Miss Sara, what is that beast doing up here?" Martha's voice filtered through Sara's deep sleep. Blinking her eyes, Sara sat up and laughed at the expression of horror on Martha's face.
"Zoe and I are friends and I invited him up here." Sara looked lovingly at the dog who was standing across the doorway barring Martha's entry into the room.
"Please tell your friend to let me come in," Martha protested. "I want to set this tray down before I drop it on the floor."
"Good boy, Zoe. Now go downstairs and get your breakfast." Sara threw her head back and laughed as the dog pranced f
rom the room but not without a triumphant look at Martha.
"Why anyone would want a beast like that! It's not a dog, it's as big as a pony." Martha set the tray down and poured Sara a cup of coffee. Sara knotted her robe as she sat down at the table.
Sara decided now was as good a time as any to try out the plan she had formulated the evening before. She just hoped she could fool Martha and get the information she needed. Martha must not get too suspicious. This was Sara's only chance, and if Martha would get suspicious, Sara probably would never get away. Martha would tell Roarke and he would probably stop her.
"Martha, do you know where the keys to the apartment in Washington are kept?" she asked with what she hoped was a light curiosity in her voice.
"Why would you want the keys to the apartment?" Martha questioned with one eyebrow raised.
Sara took a deep breath and put her shaking hands in her lap, hoping she could stay calm. "Well, Roarke told me that's where I had been staying while we were separated. I'm curious about the place." Sara propped her chin in her hand, trying to maintain her casual pose.
"So you found out! How?"
"Roarke told me, Martha."
"Oh, Miss Sara." Martha shook her head. "At first I felt guilty about not telling you. But when Mr. Roarke explained to us what the doctor told him, that you should remember by yourself, I went along with it. I hope you're not mad at me."
Sara went over to the older woman and put her arm around her shoulder. "Don't look so sad, Martha. I'm not mad at you. I know you did what you felt was right."
"Right or wrong, only time will tell, Miss Sara."
"Yes, time… so much time," Sara murmured. "Well, maybe we can help time along. Do we have keys? It might help me to remember something if I saw the apartment."
"You're right, it might do you good to go there." Martha brightened considerably. "I have extra sets to all the keys downstairs. Mr. Roarke keeps extra keys here and at his office. When would you want to go into town?" Martha asked.
"I was wondering if Bradley would mind running me in today? I'd kind of like to spend the day rummaging through things. I'll phone Roarke at the office and ride back home with him." Sara was relaxing and her hands stopped trembling. She felt triumphant. Despite her twinge of guilt at having to deceive Martha, she succeeded in waylaying her curiosity.
"I'll look through the keys and bring the set up to you," Martha said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.
"I think I'll come down with you. You never know, maybe going through the keys will jog something in my memory. I'll dress and be right down." Sara didn't wait for Martha to leave the room before she pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet, dressed quickly, and ran downstairs.
Standing beside Martha in the kitchen, she watched with building excitement as Martha pulled a huge ring of keys from one of the cabinet drawers. "Let's see, these are extra car keys, this is an extra key to the house…" Martha was ticking off each key on the ring. "This is to the town house in Annapolis…"
"The town house in Annapolis?" Sara asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mr. Roarke bought it for your second anniversary because you fell in love with Annapolis. You two spent lots of weekends there during the summers." Martha smiled at fond memories of long ago. "Here's the key to the apartment." She held up her discovery.
Sara took the key from Martha's extended hand. She had another idea, but she had to think of a way to get Martha out of the kitchen immediately. "Martha, could you please find Bradley and tell him I'd like to leave as soon as possible."
Martha nodded her head and went out the kitchen door. Sara moved over to the window. She wanted to make sure she had enough time to carry out her idea. She watched Martha walking through the yard toward the garage. Going back to the drawer, she removed the key to the Annapolis home from the ring. Luckily Martha hadn't wasted any time in leaving the kitchen, Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She was so afraid she would forget which key was the right one, only having a moment to observe the position of the key on the ring. She replaced the key ring in the drawer and closed it. Quickly slipping the keys into her pocket, she looked around, then left the kitchen and went up to her room.
Once again in her bedroom, she knew she couldn't take anything with her. Her heart turned over with sadness because her life, the part she could remember, was coming to an end. She stood out in the hall sighing, and closed her bedroom door firmly, hoping she could close out her longing for Roarke just as firmly, just as finally.
Bradley was waiting for her at the front door of the house. "Do you want me to wait for you and bring you back home, Miss Sara?"
"No, Bradley, I'll call Roarke," Sara said with a sigh.
On the ride into town she sat quietly in the corner of the back seat of the huge car. Bradley didn't break through her thoughts with any chatter as he was concentrating on the traffic. The sunlight flickered through the window and across her pensive face. Sara's thoughts were tumultuous and occasionally she would give her head a shake as though to clear her mind.
After he told her the apartment number, Bradley pulled away from the curb. Sara stood in front of the tall double doors of the high-rise building. As she looked up at the balconies towering over her, she shuddered with apprehension.
People were brushing by her, singly and in groups, each seeming to know where they were going and where they had been. Sara wanted to call Bradley back; she wanted to retreat to her room at the house. It was her security and now she was on her own, there was no place else she could go. She knew she could call Ted Maxwell but hesitated to involve him. Sara knew if Roarke would try to find her he would go to Ted, feeling that he was the only outsider Sara would go to for help.
Bracing her shoulders, she pulled the huge door open and walked through it with her chin held high. As she walked through the lobby, several people smiled and said hello to her. None of their faces were familiar, but she did manage a weak smile in return. She tried to act nonchalant as she waited for the elevator, gazing up at the floor indicator panel as each number flashed. The elevator doors opened and she silently rode the cab to the floor the apartment was on. Walking down the long corridor, she found the correct door, unlocked it, and timidly slipped in. A sigh-escaped her lips; the apartment seemed empty.
Sara went from room to room. There was no one in the apartment and nothing she saw brought back any memories to her. The closet in the bedroom, like the one at Roarke's home, was filled with beautiful clothes. Another door off the hall was closed and locked and Sara fleetingly wondered what secrets were behind it. There were photographs in the different rooms. Surprised Sara examined them closely. They were all of Roarke.
The furniture looked comfortable and the kitchen had every conceivable modern appliance. It puzzled Sara that the apartment was spotless. It didn't have the air of a place that had been unoccupied for several months. Was Roarke staying here occasionally or had he lent the apartment to someone? On the other hand, she thought, he probably hadn't let anyone else stay here because there were only women's clothing hanging in the closets. It could be that someone came in and cleaned it once in a while.
Sara sat in the living room drinking a cup of tea, trying to soothe her jangled nerves as she watched the sunset behind the Kennedy Center through the huge wall of windows. It was getting late and Roarke would be coining home. When she wasn't with him, they'd worry and start a search. Naturally he would come here first, so she had to think fast. She didn't want a confrontation with him until she had a plan for her future. She had the key to the town house in Annapolis, but she had no idea how to get there or where it was. She couldn't just go around Annapolis trying the key in every door.
Hopelessness was beginning to overwhelm her again. She couldn't escape Roarke if she didn't know where she was going to stay. She had looked at every photo in the apartment and had gone through every paper she could find, but there was nothing to give her a hint of the address of the town house. All her reading and searching hadn't
brought any recollection of any of her past. She was caught in a trap. The trap of not being able to remember, the trap of her love for Roarke and Roarke's antagonism toward her.
The sound of the telephone shattered the silence and Sara gave a start. She stared at the phone. She didn't hear the ringing, instead she was listening to the snap of the trap as it clamped shut on her. She couldn't answer it, couldn't go near it. The search for her had begun. It would be only a matter of time before Roarke came to the apartment looking for her.
She got to her feet and started pacing the room, her eyes darting around like a cornered animal seeking escape. The phone rang several times and each time it rang Sara felt surer than ever that Roarke was on his way. Slumping into a chair, she put her head in her hands. Where could she go to escape him? If only he loved her, she wouldn't have to run away from him. But he didn't love her, didn't believe in her, and she couldn't live with her suspicions and his unfair accusations.
Sara gasped as she heard a key being fitted into the lock of the front door. She bolted out of the chair, expecting Roarke to come in and order her back home. Forcing herself to turn and face him, the front door opened slowly, and Suzanne entered the foyer. Sara felt the breath rush from her lungs.
Suzanne stopped abruptly when she saw Sara standing in the middle of the living room. She closed the door and leaned against it, twirling the keys in her fingers. "May I ask what you're doing here?" she asked, looking puzzled.
Attempting to pull herself together, Sara turned and sat back down in the chair. Suzanne's unexpected appearance made Sara very apprehensive. She knew that Suzanne could mean only more problems for her in achieving her freedom. Taking the time to verbally spar with this woman meant precious moments wasted in her flight from Roarke.
"I could ask you the same thing, since this is my home. Why are you here? Roarke's not here, and I know it's not concern for me that brought you here." She crossed her legs, trying to look relaxed.
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