A Stranger's Wife

by Maggie Osborne

  Spinning, she cast a swift look around the bedroom, concentrating on the window.

  Then her gaze swung back to the bed and her knees buckled. Throwing out a hand, she caught the back of a chair and held herself upright.

  A woman sat propped against the pillows, holding a book in one hand and a china doll cradled in the crook of her arm. Blond wisps spilled from a charming coil wound on top of her head. She looked up at Lily with wide lavender-blue eyes and a smile of surprise and utter delight.

  “Susan! Oh my dearest, at last you’ve come! I’ve been waiting so long!” Dropping the book, she stretched out a hand. Tears of happiness flooded her eyes. “I have so much to tell you!”

  “Miriam,” Lily whispered, gripping the chair back.

  It was like gazing into a distorted mirror and seeing a slightly older, slightly altered version of herself. Miriam was heavier than she was, her cheeks rounder, the heart shape of her face more pronounced. Arizona’s harsh sun had etched faint lines in Lily’s forehead that lotions could not erase, but Miriam’s face was as smooth as a child’s. The childlike impression was further enhanced by the frilly white nightgown she wore and the doll in her arms.

  Someone was shouting and pounding on the door, but Lily didn’t hear. Drawn irresistibly forward, she approached the bed and sat on the edge when Miriam patted the coverlet beside her. Miriam clasped her in a long, emotional embrace, and the sweet scent of forget-me-nots reeled through Lily’s senses.

  “Oh my dearest, you look exactly as I knew you would,” Miriam said, reaching a trembling hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Lily’s ear. “I’ve missed you so much all these years.” Her voice was sweet and high, slightly breathless.

  Gently, Lily touched her cheek. “You’re alive,” she whispered.

  Miriam laughed. “Of course I’m alive. And look. Look at my beautiful, wonderful baby.” Pride glowed in her eyes. “I named her after you. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Beautiful,” Lily murmured, blinking at the doll. Tears swam in her eyes. Miriam was alive. And hopelessly crazy.

  “And so good. Aren’t you, darling?” Tenderly, she kissed the doll’s forehead. “Sleep now, my dearest, your auntie Susan and I have so much to talk about.”

  The door splintered around the handle, burst open, and Quinn ran into the room. He started forward, then stopped when he saw Lily sitting on the side of the bed, holding Miriam’s hand. Shoulders sagging, he lifted a hand and covered his eyes.

  “Richard! Is it Wednesday already? How wonderful. And look who’s finally come. It’s Susan, all grown-up.” After kissing the doll again and gently placing her on the bed beside her, Miriam withdrew a handkerchief from the sleeve of her nightgown and wiped at the tears on her lashes. “I’m so happy that we’re all together again. Marshall will be very pleased when he arrives home.” She gripped Lily’s hand. “I’ve told my husband all about you. He’ll be so happy for me that you’ve finally come.”

  Richard and Susan. Miriam’s brother and sister.

  Lily met Quinn’s gaze and held it. Silently, she begged his forgiveness for believing he had murdered his wife. Shame and confusion heated her face. And deep, heart-aching sadness.

  Rubbing the shoulder he’d used to break in the door, Quinn walked to the bed, drew a breath, then bent over Miriam and kissed her forehead.

  “It’s not Wednesday,” he said softly, stroking her arm. “I came because Susan is here.” One dark eyebrow lifted, and he gave Lily a weary, questioning look. She nodded.

  Miriam covered his hand with hers and darted an eager glance toward the shattered door. “Is Marshall home yet?”

  “Not yet,” Quinn said, taking the chair beside the bed. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. How is the baby tonight?”

  “Not as fussy as yesterday. Would you like to hold her?” She beamed at Lily. “Richard is such a dear brother. And he adores his niece. Baby Susan loves it when he rocks her.”

  Lily opened wet eyes when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Looking up, she met Paul’s steady gaze, and he beckoned her to her feet. Quietly, they walked to the door, where Lily paused. Miriam was talking softly to Quinn, who held the doll in his arms.

  Miriam glanced toward them and her face fell. “Oh! Susan, please don’t go! We have so much to catch up on, and Marshall will be home soon. I’ve told him all about you, and he wants to meet you.”

  Lily swallowed hard and blinked at the tears that swam in her eyes. “Dearest Miriam, I’ll return when I can stay longer. We’ll have a nice visit then.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, my friend,” she whispered, gazing at a mirror image of herself. “I promise.”

  “I love you, Susan. I’m so happy that you’ve come back to me.”

  “I love you too, Miriam. I always have.”

  Leaning on Paul, she entered the small living room. James Blalock sat on a horsehair sofa, his arms around his wife. Mary Blalock leaned forward, her face in her hands.

  “It’s all right,” Lily murmured, hardly aware of what she was saying to the old couple. Gripping Paul’s arm, still trembling, she gazed into his eyes. “I want a whiskey.”

  “So do I,” he said, opening the apartment door for her. “This has been a hell of a day.”

  * * *

  Paul related most of the story while they waited for Quinn in the family parlor.

  Miriam had lost her senses the night baby Susan died in the fire. “She tried desperately to reach the nursery, but the blaze was too intense. Her hands and arms were burned, and she fell through the flaming gallery railing. The fall crippled one leg and severely damaged the other.”

  “Is she an invalid?” Lily asked in a choked voice. She fell into a chair and took another long swallow of whiskey, holding the glass with both hands as her fingers continued to shake.

  “She might as well be. She never leaves her bed. In actuality?” He shrugged and gazed into his whiskey glass. “She could probably manage with a crutch or a wheelchair, but she won’t. She knows Marshall Oliver’s wife is an invalid. Since she believes that she is Oliver’s wife, she also believes that she’s an invalid.”

  “Is there any hope that she’ll regain her sanity?”

  “None. Quinn brought in the best doctors money can buy. One came all the way from Berlin to examine her. Their consensus is that Miriam cannot face surviving the fire when her baby died. The German doctor suggested she had two choices, suicide or insanity. Not much is known about these things, but he believes Miriam chose insanity without being aware she was making a choice. She’s hidden a truth too terrible to confront by constructing an alternate world where she is safe and happy and everything in her world is the way she wants it to be. Miriam believes she is happily married to Marshall Oliver, she has a beautiful healthy baby, and her adored brother Richard visits her every Wednesday evening.”

  Lily gazed at the embers glowing in the hearth. “That breaks my heart,” she said softly.

  “We discussed placing her in an institution, but Quinn wouldn’t hear of it after inspecting the appalling conditions in several asylums. More importantly, he wanted her close enough that he could visit regularly without arousing anyone’s curiosity, and close enough that he could monitor her care and condition. Although Miriam does not leave the Blalocks’ apartment, at least she is in her own home. If she did manage to wander out of the apartment, there’s nothing in this house that would frighten her or be unfamiliar.”

  So many mysteries, large and small, were unraveling tonight. So many things were beginning to make sense. Lily met his gaze. “It seems ridiculous now, but I believed that you and Quinn had murdered Miriam.”

  “I know you did,” Quinn said, walking into the room. He went directly to Lily and gently lifted her from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her hair with a hand that lightly trembled. “Where do I begin?” he murmured looking deeply into her eyes. “Can you ever forgive me for frightening you so badly? By now you must know that when Paul
spoke of getting rid of you, he meant sending you to Europe immediately instead of waiting until after the election.”

  “Given what you were thinking,” Paul said drily, “it was an unfortunate choice of words.”

  Lily inhaled Quinn’s clean outdoors scent and a faint sweet trace of forget-me-nots. Felt the solid strength of his body there for her to lean on. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I even believed you had Callihan killed.”

  “Callihan?” Paul’s eyebrows rose. “If ever I wanted to murder someone, it was Ephram Callihan. And that son of a bitch, Marshall Oliver.”

  “Of course,” Lily whispered, releasing a breath. “Why didn’t I see it? If you were going to solve a problem by killing anyone, it should have been Marshall.”

  Paul patted his pockets, looking for his pipe. “Callihan died in a drunken brawl exactly as the newspapers reported. As far as I’m concerned, his death was a stroke of rare good luck. And good riddance. But Lily, it was also a surprise.”

  “I wanted to tell you about Miriam. I almost did a dozen times,” Quinn said softly.

  “If anyone is to blame for keeping Miriam a secret, it’s me,” Paul said, moving away from the fireplace. He sat heavily in the chair Lily had vacated and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. “No one in the party would have agreed to run a candidate with a crazy wife. There’s too much shame and disgrace attached. As for you, in retrospect it seems foolish, but I thought the fewer secrets you knew, the less of a threat you would be in the future. I found you in prison, Lily. You’d shot a man, and the prosecutor believed you had lied on the stand. There was no reason to suppose we could trust you.”

  “Keeping Miriam locked away is something I’m deeply ashamed of,” Quinn said in a voice rough with emotion. “I’m not proud of anything connected with my marriage. I left Miriam alone too often. I didn’t care for her the way she needed to be cared for. It’s my fault that she was vulnerable to Oliver’s seduction. And the night of the fire. I should have been here. Instead, I put the campaign first.” Releasing Lily, he clenched his teeth and knots rippled up his jawline. “How does a man forgive himself for these things?” He shook his head.

  Tonight would change things in ways Lily couldn’t yet guess, but she knew nothing could be the same. “I was afraid of you,” she said softly, marveling that such a thing could be true. She had seen him rocking a doll, and in that moment, if not before, she had known there was nothing whatever to fear in Quinn Westin. Not now, not ever. He was a good man with a good heart who had made a chain of unfortunate decisions.

  “I will regret that I frightened you until the day I die,” he said, leaning a hand against the mantelpiece and staring into the fireplace. Lifting his head, he frowned at her, bewilderment in his gaze. “What kind of monster have I become? That a woman I love could fear me?”

  Lily ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. “That’s behind us now.” Pressing her forehead against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and drew a shaking breath. “Quinn? What happens next?”

  After a moment he lifted her face and gazed into her eyes. “To a large extent, that depends on you.”

  Chapter 22

  They drove through the snowstorm to the ranch, arriving near midnight. Both were exhausted but neither could sleep. They sat by the fire in the living room, holding each other, and beginning again, this time with the truth.

  Quinn was harshly unsparing of himself. He spoke of his rage at discovering Miriam’s affair with Marshall Oliver, spoke of his conflict regarding the fire. “I was deeply sorry that Miriam’s child died that night but secretly relieved that I wouldn’t have to live with a constant reminder of my wife’s preference for another man.” Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “I’ll flog myself for the rest of my life for my selfishness and that small pang of relief.”

  Near dawn, he spoke of Miriam as she was now. “I couldn’t give up my dreams, Lily, so I hid her away.” He blinked at her with reddened eyes. “I think of it now and wonder how such a thing could ever have seemed reasonable.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said softly, leaning to gently kiss him. “People fear insanity. The moment Miriam’s condition became known, your campaign would have been over.”

  He nodded. “I know. I had to make a choice, and then discovered how hard it was to live with that choice. There was the knowledge that once we announced Miriam’s death, her confinement would become permanent, with no hope that she could be seen in public again. The constant fear that someone would learn of her insanity or discover her. And the crushing guilt of blame. If only I’d been a more attentive husband, maybe the affair wouldn’t have happened. If only I’d been home the night of the fire. If only I’d been able to find a doctor who could have helped her.”

  “No one can help her,” Lily said sadly.

  “And all the lies. One on top of another. Especially the lies to you.”

  “It’s over now, Quinn.”

  “Is it, Lily?” He stared at her in the flickering light of the embers. “The lies will go on. Lies to the voters about what I believe in. Lies to Miriam’s friends and acquaintances when we announce that she has died. Lies to Miriam, supporting her delusion that I’m her brother. And the lies to myself that everything I’ve done is justified by ambition.”

  Lily didn’t know what to say and turned her face to the window. A pale sun had chased the last of the night away.

  “Good morning, Miss Dale,” Quinn said after a period of silence. He ran a hand over the bristle on his jaw. “It’s been a long night.”

  “It’s a new day, cowboy.”

  “I promise you, Lily. There will never again be any lies between us,” he said slowly, loving the look of her, the scent of her, the trust growing again in her lovely eyes.

  She kissed him, her soft mouth clinging to his. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes. “I think before you can be honest with me, you need to be honest with yourself. Perhaps that’s one of the things you should think about, Quinn.”

  God, he loved this woman. Despite all the deceptions, she knew him so well, knew him better than he knew himself. Holding her, breathing her and feeling her heartbeat against his own, he asked how he could possibly let her go. Would anything in his life have meaning if she wasn’t beside him to share it?

  “Go,” she said softly. “Ride your horse and do your thinking.”

  He rode across snowy fields, his head down, thinking about his life and the mistakes he had made. He thought about what he wanted and what he valued, what was possible and what was not, what was important. That evening he sat with Lily before the fire and again they talked deep into the night. They talked about Miriam and a failed marriage, discussed the prevailing attitudes toward insanity, and he spoke about the horrifying asylums he had visited. Lily related her growing-up years, her unhappiness with Cy Gardener, and talked about her prison experiences. They agreed there were many areas where an enlightened governor could make a significant and beneficial difference. Lily asked him to add these areas to his list of projected reforms. But he doubted the political system would permit him to inaugurate the reforms he wanted.

  It wasn’t until the next day that she raised the subject they had been avoiding, the future.

  Tucking her cloak around her, she leaned against the corral fence, keeping her eyes on the horses. “I’ve read some books about your Italy, and I’ve decided that’s where I’ll go.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching her breath plume before her. “And Quinn, I think Paul is right. You’ll gain a tremendous advantage if I leave immediately. You can say I died. A bereaved candidate is a sympathetic candidate.”

  Quinn rested his arms on the top rail and frowned at the distant snowcapped peaks. “I love you, Lily. I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I know,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “But you and I both understand that I can’t stay. Nothing has really changed. Since I must leave, we might as well do it
in a way that gives you the greatest political advantage. That means immediately.”

  She was wrong. Since Lily had come into his life, everything had changed.

  They turned back to the ranch house, and she took his arm, following a path in the snow. It occurred to Quinn that he would be glad to see spring. He’d never been fond of snow.

  “I just thought of something,” he said with a smile. So many conversations had begun this way during yesterday and today. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime,” she said, hugging his arm close to her body.

  He waited, knowing her well enough to know she would ask about the surprise, and he laughed when she did. “You’ll know soon enough. Paul is bringing you something wonderful from town. It took a while to arrange.”

  “Speaking of town,” she said, turning into his arms. “Shouldn’t we go back? You have a speech the day after tomorrow. And I promised Miriam a long visit, which I’m looking forward to.”

  He couldn’t speak. Standing in the snowy yard, he held her and couldn’t let her go. But he felt everything else falling away. Ambitions—dreams that no longer mattered. She was a lovely, compassionate, and caring woman, and nothing else was important in his life except being with her.

  When he could speak, he lifted her face and brushed his thumb across her lips. “Yesterday you told me that you’d learned the value of rules . . .”

  She laughed, and her lovely eyes softened. “I’m afraid I’ll never be completely reformed,” she said, teasing him. “But I concede that society needs rules, and it’s better if people obey them.”

  “Are you aware that different societies have different rules? Europe, for instance, views certain arrangements much differently than America does.”

  “Oh no,” she said with an exaggerated groan. “Are you saying I’ll have to learn new rules?”

  “Lily?” It was all so clear. Framing her face between his hands, he examined her face. “Do you love me?”