by Joanne Fluke
“That’s all right.” Maura smiled at him. He looked very apologetic.
“We do have a very nice domestic Korbel. Why don’t you go up and get ready for bed, and we can have it in your room.”
“Yes. Of course.” The smile was still on Maura’s face, but it felt as if it was frozen there. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Keith.”
“I have an ulterior motive. I just want you to relax, honey. You’re sitting here on the edge of the couch, and you’re acting as if I’m about to chew you up and spit you out in little pieces.”
“I . . . I’m sorry.” Maura got to her feet. “I’ll go upstairs then. And I’ll see you . . . later.”
All the way up the stairs, Maura chided herself. She wasn’t a blushing bride. She was a married woman and she shouldn’t be embarrassed when her husband told her he was coming to her room. But why did she have her own room? She’d decided it wasn’t appropriate to ask Jan, and she hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask Nita. Could she gather the courage to ask Keith, the husband who was still a stranger to her?
It took longer to get ready for bed than usual, perhaps because her hands were shaking and she kept dropping things on the rug. She’d never felt so unsure of herself, or so incapable of making decisions. Would Keith like the pink negligee, or the white? Or would he expect her to wear nothing at all? Should she dab on a bit more Opium, or would he prefer that she wore no perfume to bed? What would it be like, making love with her husband? It was a totally new experience for her. She had no memory past her sophomore year in college and she’d been a shy virgin back then, afraid to indulge in the wild romantic weekends her classmates had experienced.
At last she was ready, and she slipped a pretty, forest green caftan over her thin silk negligee. And then she went to turn down the bed. But would turning down the bed be too obvious? Perhaps she should wait and let him take the initiative. She was hesitating, trying to make a decision, when she heard a soft tap on her door.
“Come in.” Maura tried to sound relaxed and confident, but her voice quavered a bit.
“I can’t. Open the door, honey. My hands are full.”
Maura rushed to the door and opened it. And then she gasped as she saw what was on the tray he was carrying. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two fluted glasses, a basket holding something wrapped in a white linen napkin, and three crystal bowls. One was filled with something that looked like tapioca except that it was black in color, another had grated, hard boiled eggs, and the third held chopped onions.
“I brought us a snack.” Keith grinned at her as he walked over and set the tray on the bed table. “When you asked me if you liked champagne, I got to thinking that you probably wouldn’t remember caviar, either. So I thought I’d see if you like it.”
Maura looked down at the one bowl she couldn’t identify. The black tapioca must be caviar. “Did I like caviar in the past?”
“Yes, although this isn’t Beluga caviar.” Keith looked apologetic. “Beluga’s your favorite, but it’s very expensive, and we don’t usually have it on hand unless we’re planning to entertain.”
Maura started to laugh. “Maybe it’s a good thing I lost my memory. I won’t know the difference between Dom Pérignon and Korbel. And I won’t remember the taste of Beluga caviar. That makes me a cheap date.”
Keith looked perplexed for a moment, and then he started to laugh, too. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am.” Maura grinned at him, and then she gestured toward the caviar. “How do you eat this anyway?”
“I’ll show you, right after I open the champagne.”
Maura watched as Keith took the bottle from the ice bucket and opened it deftly. When the cork slid smoothly out of the neck of the bottle with a barely audible pop, she frowned slightly. “This champagne must be different than the bottles I’ve seen in the movies.”
“Why is that?” Keith started to pour.
“Well . . . I thought the cork was supposed to explode. And I expected the champagne to foam up and spill down the sides of the bottle.”
“No, honey.” Keith grinned as he handed her a glass. “They only do that for effect. That’s why you have to be careful not to shake the bottle. If the champagne foamed up, you’d lose a lot.”
Maura nodded and looked a little wistful. “I envy you, Keith. You really seem to know what you’re doing. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to learn everything, all over again.”
“Of course you will. It’s just going to take a little while, that’s all.” Keith raised his glass and smiled at her. “To you, Maura. You’re a remarkable woman. Now taste your champagne and tell me what you think.”
Maura raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. Then she took another, and smiled. “It’s not as sweet as I expected, but I like it.”
“Are you ready for the caviar?”
“I’m ready.”
Keith was grinning as he folded back the linen napkin and took out what looked like a piece of toast with the crusts cut off. “These are toast tips. Do you remember them?”
“Not really. But I can see what they are. What do you do with them?”
“First you spread one with caviar.” Keith picked up the small silver spoon and scooped out some caviar. He spread it on the toast tip and motioned to the other two bowls. “Egg or onion? Or both?”
“Both.” Maura nodded. “I like eggs and I like onions. I remember that.”
“Sour cream?” Keith uncovered a small dish Maura hadn’t noticed before.
“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t remember if I like it.”
“Then let’s try the first one without.” Keith handed her the triangle of toasted bread, and watched her expectantly as she took a bite. “Well? What do you think?”
Maura was smiling as she swallowed. “I think I have expensive tastes. I love it, Keith! Can I try a little sour cream now?”
“Of course you can.”
Keith handed her the spoon. “Just put a little dollop on the top. I think you’re going to like it, Maura. You used to want your caviar with everything on it.”
Maura did exactly as he instructed, and tasted it eagerly. Then she nodded. “It’s delicious, and it’s even better with the sour cream.”
“Let’s sit over here, where we can relax.” Keith carried the tray over to the bed table, and sat down on the bed. “Come on, Maura . . . bring your champagne glass and get comfortable. I’ll fix you another toast tip.”
“But . . . aren’t you going to have any?”
“I will. But I’ll wait a bit. Right now, I’m having too much fun watching you.”
Maura took the second toast tip he prepared for her, and smiled at him. “This makes me curious. I wonder what other marvelous things I’ve forgotten.”
“I don’t know, but we’ll discover them.” Keith poured more champagne in her glass. “I’ll ask and you’ll tell me if you remember them. And if you don’t, we’ll try them together.”
“Give me an example.” Maura popped the toast tip into her mouth and chewed.
“How about chocolate soufflé?”
“Chocolate soufflé . . .” Maura looked thoughtful. “I don’t remember that, but I know I’ll like it. Jan brought me a box of See’s chocolates when I was in the hospital and they were delicious.”
Keith took a sip of champagne and smiled at her. “How about lox and bagels? You used to love them.”
“Lox . . .” Maura began to smile. “Is that the same as gravlax?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had gravlax. It’s Scandinavian, isn’t it?”
Maura nodded. “It’s salmon marinated in dill, and they usually serve it with a mustard sauce as an appetizer. If it’s eaten as a main course, they garnish it with lemon wedges and serve it with toast and a cucumber salad.”
“How do you know that?”
“I . . . I’m not sure.” Maura shook her head. “But I can remember eating it. And I’m sure I watched when it was prepared. I just don’t remember w
here that was.”
“Maybe you had a Scandinavian friend in high school or college.”
“That’s possible.” Maura nodded. “I think I remember opening a refrigerator and basting the gravlax with the marinade. It must have been a friend’s house, because my parents weren’t fond of fish.”
“Do you remember any other foods?”
Maura paused for a moment, and then she nodded. “Yes, but not at my parents’ house. My father was strictly a meat and potatoes man. He called vegetables ‘rabbit food,’ and my mother used to have to sneak them in by mashing them up with the potatoes. We never had anything the least bit unusual. But I do remember going somewhere else to eat smoked bacon with onions and apple rings. And sour cream waffles. And little brown cakes with brown sugar and cardamom. And the very best thing I ever tasted was herring salad with apples!”
“You definitely had a Scandinavian friend.” Keith smiled at her. “What else do you remember?”
“Thin sugar cookies that were rolled into cones when they came out of the oven and stuck in a water glass to harden. They were filled with sweetened whipped cream and berries and served for dessert.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Keith nodded. “What else?”
Maura thought for a moment and then she laughed. “Lutefisk. But I won’t tell you about that right now. It’ll make you lose your appetite.”
“Do you remember the dessert board at the Beaumont Hotel? It ran the length of the dining room.”
“No.” Maura shook her head. “I don’t remember that.”
“How about the short little waiter with the strange voice? You called him Mr. Foghorn.”
Maura shook her head, again, and Keith looked very disappointed. “You don’t remember Paris at all?”
“Paris? No . . . I really don’t remember a thing about it. Is it important?”
“It seemed so at the time.” Keith shrugged and tried to make light of it, but Maura could tell his feelings were hurt.
“Tell me about it. Maybe I’ll remember.”
“Well . . . we got there in the morning and we did some sightseeing. The Eiffel Tower, things like that. And then we had a fabulous dinner in the hotel dining room where we sampled the dessert board. Mr. Foghorn was our waiter. And when we finished dinner, we went up to our suite.”
“Our suite?” Maura raised her eyebrows. “That sounds expensive.”
“It was, but it was worth it. The honeymoon suite at the Beaumont Hotel has the best view of the city.”
“The honeymoon suite?” Maura began to blush. “I’m sorry, Keith. I didn’t realize we went to Paris on our honeymoon.”
Keith nodded. “I figured you wouldn’t remember. I guess I was just hoping, that’s all.”
“Try not to feel bad, Keith.” Maura reached out and touched his arm. “I really wish I could remember, but everything’s a blank from the day I finished my finals in my sophomore year in college to the morning I woke up in the hospital. It’s not just our honeymoon. It’s everything. You do understand, don’t you?”
“I understand.” Keith managed a smile. “It’s just a blow to my ego, that’s all. No man likes to think that his wife has forgotten their honeymoon.”
Maura nodded. “I can understand that. But it’s not like I forgot. It’s more like it never happened. You saw my reaction when I tasted the caviar. I knew I’d eaten it before, but I was experiencing it all over again, for the very first time.”
“That’s true.” Keith reached out to pull her closer. “Thanks, honey. It makes me feel a lot better to know that you want to experience our honeymoon all over again.”
Maura thought about trying to explain. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all! But then Keith was taking her into his arms, and silencing any protest she might have made with his kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Maura’s mind floated free as Keith kissed her. It was a pleasurable kiss, a nice kiss, but there was nothing breathless or exciting about it. The phrase “familiar strangers” popped into her mind. Jan had explained it, several days ago. Familiar strangers were the people you saw every day, usually in a certain spot or at a certain time. A familiar stranger was the man who filled your car with gas at your favorite service station. You saw him every time you drove up to the pumps, but you might not even know his name, or recognize him if he was out of uniform. Another familiar stranger could be the person who delivered your groceries, or parked your car, or rode on the same bus with you every morning. Taken out of context, you might not recognize these people because you expected to see them in a certain place, doing a specific thing. Keith was a familiar stranger to her. She’d adjusted to sitting next to him in a restaurant, and having him in the house. But his presence in her bedroom, and his role as her lover, was completely out of context.
“Maura?” Keith pulled back to look at her and there was sadness in his eyes. Even though she’d tried not to let him know, he must have sensed that she was permitting, rather than enjoying, his kiss. “Do you want me to go?”
Maura shook her head quickly. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “No. Of course not. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”
“I understand.” Keith put his arms around her again. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow. And anytime you want me to stop, I will.”
Maura nodded. Her mind was in turmoil. What was the matter with her? The desire she must have felt for Keith in the past had disappeared along with her memory.
And then he was kissing her again, and she did her best to respond. She’d seen enough romantic movies, and she knew what to do. But it was all a pretense. She was playing the part of a woman in love without feeling any of the emotions. She was hoping that if she played her part convincingly enough, it might become real.
And now he was turning down the covers, pushing her down on the bed, and arranging a pillow under her head. He was kind and sweet, and she really should appreciate the time he was taking to set her at ease.
“Is this better?” Keith propped himself up on one elbow to look at her.
“Yes. Perfect.” Maura did her best to sound breathless and eager as she held out her arms. “Kiss me again, Keith.”
He did, and Maura trembled in his arms. It wasn’t a response to his kiss. It was simply a reaction to the lie she was living. But Keith must have thought it was a shiver of delight, because he pulled back to smile at her.
“That’s better. Now you’re just like the Maura I love. I knew you’d remember how good we were together. You do remember, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.” Maura nodded, and did her best to smile. She didn’t want to shatter his illusions. “Could we turn out the light?”
“That’s what you always say. And that’s why I call you my shy little bride.” Keith chuckled and reached out to flick off the light. “Is that better, darling?”
“Yes. It’s much better.” Maura sighed deeply. It was much easier to pretend in the dark. Now he couldn’t see how she winced when he slipped off her robe and nightgown. And he couldn’t notice her expression of dismay when she heard him take off his clothes.
“It’s going to be wonderful, honey. You’ll see.”
His voice was low and intimate as he climbed back into bed with her, and she shivered again. He seemed to interpret that as a compliment to his skill as a lover, because he gave a chuckle, deep in his throat, and reached out to run his fingers over her body.
She shivered again, more violently this time. And her nipples began to harden under his fingers. She didn’t feel any passion in her mind, but her body was responding to his touch.
“I think you’re going to like this.” His lips slid across her body, nibbling and licking at her sensitive flesh. “And I’m sure you’ll remember all the times we did this before. It’s just too good to forget.”
But she didn’t remember. And although the sensations he created were very pleasant, her mind was not involved. She had no feelings of warmth or love. It was quite the opposite. What she really w
anted was for him to stop. He seemed to sense her uninvolvement then, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Come on, honey. Show me how much you love me.”
Her mind spun in crazy circles. What did that mean? She didn’t love him. She was sure of that now. But she must have loved him in the past. It wasn’t fair of her punish him for her memory loss. She had to respond to his urgent need. But how?
Then something occurred to her, a phrase she’d heard from a song. If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. Jan had tuned her radio to an oldies station on the way to the boutique, and they’d been playing Crosby, Stills and Nash.
Maura reached up and put her hand on the back of Keith’s neck. That seemed to please him, because he gave a little groan and began to breathe faster.
What next? Maura tried to think of something else to do, but nothing occurred to her. She wouldn’t have to think if she truly loved Keith. Then everything would happen naturally. Perhaps she should think of someone else, someone she’d loved. It wasn’t right, but all she really cared about was sparing Keith’s feelings.
But who could she think of? Maura’s mind spun in crazy circles. Nick. The handsome man from her dreams. But thinking of Nick wouldn’t do any good. She’d imagined making love with him in the goat herder’s shack, but she hadn’t dreamed any of the details.
Maura moved her fingers slightly, and Keith groaned again. He seemed very grateful for any loving response she made, and she simply had to convince him that things hadn’t changed between them. After all, it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t remember how much she’d loved him.
Who else had she loved? Maura knew she must have loved her first husband, but she had no memory of him at all, and the details of their sex life were a complete mystery. It wouldn’t do any good to pretend she was with Paul Bennett when she didn’t even know what he’d looked like. It had to be someone else, someone she knew right now. And the only other man she knew and liked was Steve.
Although she really didn’t want to think of Steve, she saw his image as she stared up into the darkness. And although she knew it wasn’t right to think of him this way, her cheeks turned warm and a soft sigh of passion escaped her lips. It was Steve’s face she saw as she reached up with both arms and wound them around Keith’s neck.
