Dancing In the Dark

by Kathryn Shay

  “I’m leaving. Call Harris and tell him you’re going to do what Lewis asked. He’ll be happy.” Brady leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Goodbye, Clare. I’ll send over the drawings when they’re done for the rest of the book. You have enough to finish the rest on your own.”

  “I can’t believe this. It sounds so final.”

  “Because it is.”

  Quietly, Brady let himself out of the condo. Once in the hall, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. Somewhere in his heart, he’d been hoping she’d make a different decision. When he’d told her their professional and personal lives would be over, he’d been praying she’d choose him, on the spot. But she hadn’t. Her wavering was exactly what she’d done before. And he meant what he said—he was pretty sure things would go down the way they had then, too.

  This time, he wouldn’t stick around and see his life crumble. He couldn’t watch it happen, as he’d told her. He’d done what was best for Clare—and for himself, given the circumstances—and now he had to get on with his life without Clarissa Boneli in it.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, before her appointment with Anna, Clare pulled up to the curb at the Rockford Airport and looked over at Cathy. “You sure you don’t want me to come in?”

  “Of course not. You can’t go through security and wait with me, so it’s stupid to park the car.” She reached over to grab Clare’s hand. “You look so sad. I hate to leave. But I’ve got commitments.”

  “I know, Cath. But I have to stand on my own sometime.” Without Cathy, without Brady. Now that Clare had her memory back, she knew how much she’d depended on him in the past.

  “Listen, Cath, I want to say one thing before you go. I’m sorry for drifting away from you. I’m never, ever going to do that again, no matter what happens. I promise.”

  Cathy smiled. “It’s in the past. We’re making a new start.”

  “I know. I love you.”

  Cathy kissed her cheek. “I love you, too.”

  Again, with a heavy heart, Clare watched her sister walk into the airport terminal. She sat there, staring after Cathy until a horn beeped behind the car. She pulled out of the space and drove downtown to Anna’s office. In some ways she was looking forward to the session, hoping for more clarity, and in some ways she was dreading it.

  After Clare recounted the return of her memory and what she’d learned about that horrid night, Anna was matter-of-fact. “Let’s take this one step at a time. First, I’m glad you got most of your memory back. But you really don’t remember everything about that night. You said so yourself that not all the pieces fit together. After you told Jonathan what happened with Brady, there are still some blanks. You don’t remember leaving his house or the accident?”

  “That’s right. But he told me what happened.”

  “Which you should recall, and you don’t. I’m not clear on what actually sent you running out into the night.”

  “Jonathan says it was my guilt. For betraying him.”

  “But we don’t know that for sure. We won’t know until all of your memories—and I’ll bet they aren’t good—of what happened that night return.”

  “So you think there’s more?”

  “My gut tells me yes. I haven’t wanted to push you too hard, so I haven’t brought this up before, but there’s another possibility. I think we should get it out in the open now that you’re stronger. Could it be that, after you told Jonathan what happened with Brady, you and Jonathan were intimate?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. He held me, I remember crying in his arms but… Oh, God, do you mean did we… No, oh, Lord, I can’t believe I’d do that.” She felt the worst bout of panic she’d had yet well up inside her and push against her chest. “I couldn’t have been with another man that same night. I wouldn’t do that, Anna. Not even as the Clare I became.”

  “Calm down. I don’t mean that I think you did. It’s just that I’ve considered this as a possible reason why your memory is blocked. Also, Cathy called me before she left. She said she and Brady discussed the same thing but were afraid to bring it up with you.”

  “She and Brady discussed this? Brady thinks I did this? No wonder he was so upset.”

  “He thinks it’s a possibility. Intimacy with Jonathan could be the traumatic event that caused your amnesia.”

  Taking deep breaths, Clare forced herself to calm down and began to think more clearly. “It’s not a possibility. I wouldn’t have done that.”

  “Even if he coerced you.”

  “What?” Her heart pounded. Her hands felt clammy.

  “Calm down, Clare. It just a hypothesis.”

  “No, no. Jonathan loves me, Anna. He wouldn’t do something so terrible to me.”

  “A man faced with losing the woman he loves often acts out of character.”

  “No, I don’t believe it.”

  “Then you’re still dancing in the dark, as you put it, about the real cause of your amnesia.”

  “If there is more.” Clare was thoughtful. “You said sometimes people don’t get all their memories back. Maybe I’ll never know if there was more.”

  “Or maybe you’ll make life-altering decisions without knowing what really happened, and then the past will come back to bite you in the butt when you least expect it.”

  “Anna, I’m not making these decisions. Brady is. He left the last of the drawings at my door yesterday. I’ll be finishing the book myself.”

  “Did you try to talk to him again?”

  “Of course. I went right over to his place. He answered the door, but wouldn’t let me in.” She told the counselor what had happened…

  His face was haggard. “You got the drawings?”

  “Yes. I found them just now.”

  “Good. What do you want?”

  “I can’t let things end like this. I won’t.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Clare, baby, if you care anything at all about me, then you’ll accept my decision. It’s the decent thing to do. I can’t prevent you from having what you’ve dreamed of all your life. And maybe you and Harris belong together. You care about him.”

  She wanted to lie. But she couldn’t. “I remember caring about Jonathan. But I love you, Brady.”

  “Not enough to choose me. Right now. Please, Clare, go. Please do this one thing for me…”

  When she finished the story, Anna said simply, “That makes me sad. What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing, I guess. I do care enough about him to let him go.”

  “And he cares enough about you to let you go. What’s wrong with this picture, Clare?”

  She shook her head.

  “All right, time’s almost up. I want to say two more things. I suggest you don’t do anything about the TV show until I see you again.” She checked her calendar. “How about on Wednesday?”

  They set a time.

  “What else?” Clare asked.

  “As I said before, I’m not really into dream symbolism as a method of treating patients, but your New York dream, it’s fraught with metaphor.”

  “I thought it was a mixture of reality and fantasy.” She told Anna about the adjoining doors and the green theme in Wicked.

  “It is reality and fantasy—maybe fear, too—colliding. In classic dream interpretation, the alligator is a sign of an aggressor, the locked door indicative of something you don’t want to remember, and the green—that you were bathed in—a need for harmony.”

  “You’re not telling me Jonathan was the alligator.”

  “No, Clare, I believe you just told me that”

  * * *

  At noon on Monday, Max and Delia came barging through Brady’s door like a posse looking for its prey. Max’s face was tight with anger, and Delia looked as if she’d been crying.

  “What the hell is this?” Max asked, holding up the wooden sign.

  Brady sighed. Where was he going to get the energy to deal with them? “Exactly what it looks like. I was planning to te
ll you as soon as you got back. I didn’t know the real estate agent had put that up already.”

  Grasping his arm, Delia held on tight. “Brady, please, you can’t sell your condo.”

  “I have to.”

  Max threw the sign down on the floor. “It’s because of Clare, isn’t it?”

  Though he knew it would cause World War Three, Brady was done lying, covering up, fooling them as well as himself. “Yes.”

  Delia turned to Max. “Clare has her memory back.”

  Max had just returned from his trip the night before. “Then all this makes sense.” He began to pace. “Obviously, she’s turned into the selfish bitch she was before she got amnesia. I knew she would.”

  “That’s not true. She seems to be a little of both the old and new Clare.” Delia pointed to the sign on the floor. “Brady, what happened to precipitate this? The day before she went to New York, the day Donny came home, you two were closer than I’d seen you in a long time.”

  He blew out a heavy breath. “Sit down, there are some things I’ve been keeping from you.”

  They sat as they had a thousand times on his stuffed couches, and he related the whole sordid story, only leaving out intimate details. The events infuriated Max further, and Delia started to cry again.

  “He’s won,” Brady said. “He’s got her back.”

  “And she just took the damn deal in New York? Leaving you behind?” Max shook his head. “I was right all along, she doesn’t deserve you.”

  “No, she hasn’t taken the deal. She won’t, because of me.”

  Delia nodded knowingly. “And you can’t live with that?”

  “No, I can’t deprive her of her lifelong dream. Nor can I live here and watch her and Jonathan get together like they did the last time. It’s why I’m selling this place. I’m going to New York to live for a while. My agent’s thrilled.”

  Max’s black eyes flamed. “What about us?”

  “I’m sorry, Max. I just don’t know how else to get through this.”

  “All I can say is she better move out, too. I won’t stay if she does.”

  “She will. Harris had a house picked out for them before the accident.”

  Delia hugged Brady. “It seems so unfair. Like a tease. We had a chance to get her back, and now it’s gone. I know it’s worse for you.”

  “I’ll live. And, Dee, I’ll talk to Donny when he gets back from his friend’s house today. I’ll see him at least once a month. I’d stay for him if I could, but I just can’t.”

  “Are you going to wait until this place sells?” Max asked.

  “No, I’ve got a flight out tonight to New York. I’ll be at Charlie’s place.” Where the four of them had always stayed in the past. Where they had a history. “But I want my whereabouts kept from Clare.”

  “I can’t believe this, bro.”

  Brady shrugged. “Me, either.”

  * * *

  Clare walked around downtown for an hour after her appointment with Anna. She had so much to think about, primarily the fact that she might not be remembering what really happened to her. There was absolutely no recollection of anything like that.

  She remained resolute, though, that Anna—and Cathy and Brady, for God’s sake—were wrong. Jonathan wouldn’t have forced her or shamed her into any kind of intimacy. In her heart, she was sure that was true. But as she walked and window-shopped, ate lunch and sat in the park, she kept thinking about Anna’s assertion that something was missing.

  As Clare herself suspected.

  By the end of the afternoon, she’d come to a few conclusions. Despite Brady’s protest, she wasn’t going to take the Cooking Network deal. She wouldn’t sell her proverbial soul to the proverbial devil for success. She knew she could never do that to Brady.

  She loved him. Really, truly loved him.

  Yet, she cared about Jonathan, too, though not in the same way. And until she figured out what was what, and maybe remembered the rest of that night, she’d take her time and let Anna help her. As the counselor had suggested, she wouldn’t make any commitment or changes in her life.

  At about five, she felt good enough to go back home. She’d be honest—she’d tell Brady and Jonathan the conclusions she’d come to. She’d convince them both to give her time. If they really loved her, they’d do what she asked.

  * * *

  “What can I do for you, Langston?” Harris had been shocked when Brady called and asked to see him. Brady could hear it in his voice. He’d tried to put Brady off, but when he’d told Harris he was leaving town tonight, the guy had acquiesced. Which had brought him to Harris’s office to do one last thing.

  “I need to say a few things,” Brady told him, sticking his hands into his jeans because he was nervous. “And I have a question.”

  Dressed in a great-looking suit, Harris sat down in a chair and indicated Brady should take the couch. “Shoot.”

  Brady sat. The question first. Man, this was hard. But he had to know some things before he left “Clare remembers coming to your house that night.”

  “And which night would that be? The night you seduced her?”

  “I’m sorry we did that to you.” He was, really. “It was wrong.”

  “You’re damn right it was wrong.”

  “I want to know what happened after she told you about us.”

  “Why would I tell you this, if Clare didn’t?”

  “She did tell me. What she remembers of it. But I need to know before I leave town if you did something that might make her lose her memory.”

  The guy looked guilty. Damn, was it true, then?

  But Harris said only, “What are you getting at?”

  “Did you insist she sleep with you? To prove she was sorry for being with me, like she said she was?”

  Leaping out of the chair, Harris lunged at Brady. He grabbed him by the collar, dragged him up and got in his face. “You son of a bitch. I love her. I’d never do something like that to her.”

  Brady let out a heavy breath. There was no way that reaction was faked. It eased the vise around his heart. He shrugged off the guy’s hold. “That makes what I’m doing a lot easier.”

  Harris backed up a step and straightened his suit, obviously trying to calm himself. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving town.”

  “So you said.”

  “For good. Clare’s still confused, but I don’t think she’ll take the Cooking Network deal if I’m in the picture.”

  “That would be my guess. So you’re bowing out?”

  Brady nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because I love her as much as you do.” Brady swallowed hard, his throat convulsing. He loved her more, he was sure, but he didn’t need another ruckus.

  It took a minute to gather himself, then Brady crossed to the door. Just before he walked out, he turned around. “Take care of her, Jonathan.”

  * * *

  Emotionally exhausted from what had been revealed over the past few days, from her therapy session and from the weight of the decisions she’d made today, Clare pulled into her driveway and got out of the car. As she headed up to the porch, she stopped short on the sidewalk. There was a For Sale sign in front of the house. She wondered if Max was moving out.

  Or…no, no! She raced up the steps, let herself in and banged on Delia’s door. No answer.

  Then she went to Max’s. No answer there, either.

  Hurrying upstairs, she opened Brady’s condo with her key to find the place empty. She could feel the lack of his presence. A very bad feeling assaulted her. She checked his bathroom and saw toiletries were missing; she walked around, her anxiety escalating. Brady was gone. On a pass by the window, she caught sight of Max and Delia outside.

  She hurried downstairs and out to the yard.

  They were perched on top of the picnic table, feet on the bench, each holding a beer. Each looking forlorn. And when they saw her, both their expressions turned hard.

  “What’s
going on?” she asked, though by God she knew.

  Dee spoke. “Brady’s gone.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He asked us not to tell you.”

  “Are you kidding? I need to stop him from leaving.”

  Max stood and straightened to his six-foot-plus height. “I’ve never felt less like kidding in my life. And why are you surprised? You drove him away. Again. But this time, he left us, too. We were fools to believe you’d changed, Clare, or would change. Brady’s wised up, and so have we. We’re done with you. Leave us all alone. It’s the only decent thing to do.”

  She shot a panicky glance to Delia. “You, too, Dee?”

  Delia’s eyes were dry, but Clare could tell she’d been crying. “Yes, Clarissa, me, too.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The week after Brady left was a nightmare. Clare had been unable to sleep Monday and Tuesday nights, wondering where Brady was, worrying about him, and feeling devastated by Max’s and Delia’s rejection. Every time she saw the For Sale sign on the lawn, she was heartbroken all over again. But when prospective buyers came to look at the apartment, reality sank in. Brady was gone.

  Anna had a lot to say about that when Clare saw her on Wednesday. “Clare, let’s suppose you don’t ever discover all that happened that night, if indeed there is more. What do you—the woman you are right now, with the memories you have—want to happen?”

  She told Anna what she’d decided on her afternoon alone after the last session. That she cared about both Brady and Jonathan, and that she needed time to make a decision. But even that was changing in the wake of Brady leaving. She knew deep down that she couldn’t live her life without him. She simply couldn’t.

  “Hmm. I believe it’s possible to love two men at once. But you obviously can’t have them both. If you had to pick right now, today, who would you want to be with?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Brady’s gone.”

  “You could get him to come back.”

  “Max and Delia, and Brady himself, said the only decent thing to do was leave him alone.”

  “What does Clare think?”