Mystery Wife

by Annette Broadrick

  "I forgot to look in on the children," Sherye said, echoing her thoughts, horror-struck by the omission. "Did Louise make it back all right? Do the children—"

  "The children are fine, Louise is here and everyone wishes you a fine evening. Yvette did hope you'd stop in so that she could see you before you leave."

  "Of course. I can't imagine how I could possibly have forgotten them." She shook her head with frustration and looked at Raoul. "If you'll excuse me, I won't be but a minute."

  "Since I haven't seen the children today, I'll go up with you. Quite frankly, that had been my intent when I came to get you, but, like you, I forgot all about my original intentions when I saw you." He grinned at Danielle. "She looks far from motherly at the moment, doesn't she?"

  Sherye knew she was blushing but couldn't help it. She turned away and returned upstairs, hurrying down the hallway to the nursery, Raoul's steps echoing a few steps behind her.

  Louise was reading to Yvette when Sherye opened the door. When the young girl looked up and saw her mother, Yvette froze, her expressive eyes going blank.

  Sherye hesitated at the door, caught off guard by Yvette's reaction. Her daughter hadn't worn that expression in weeks, not since Sherye had first arrived home. Had Yvette thought she'd forgotten about her, since she was the one who regularly read a bedtime story?

  She crossed over to where Yvette sat watching her, still with no expression, and knelt beside the love seat. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to read to you, sweetheart."

  Yvette gave a tiny shrug. "It doesn't matter."

  "Of course it does.''

  Yvette looked at the dress Sherye wore. "You're going out with your friends again, aren't you?" she asked in a low voice.

  "Actually," Raoul drawled from the doorway, "your mother and I are having dinner out tonight. I hope that meets with your approval.''

  The change in Yvette was indescribable. From being a frozen, inexpressive and stilted child, she became animated, her eyes glowing and her smile flashing.

  "You're going out together?" she repeated, obviously delighted. "You've never done that before!" She scooted off the sofa and gave Sherye a quick hug before darling over to Raoul.

  Sherye was caught off guard and speechless. Slowly she rose and turned in time to see Raoul catch his daughter up in his arms, laughing. She felt a sharp pain in her chest—as though her heart was being squeezed—at the sight of Raoul's flashing white smile in his darkly tanned face.

  "I want you to be a good girl for Louise, and go to bed as soon as your story is finished, all right?"

  Yvette gave a vigorous nod and asked, "Are you and Mama going dancing?"

  Raoul glanced at Sherye, lifting one of his eyebrows slightly before returning his attention to Yvette. "Perhaps."

  Yvette kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad, Papa. I like to see the two of you together."

  "You do, eh? So. You are pleased with us, is that what you're saying?"

  "Oh, yes, Papa. Very pleased." She scrambled down and dashed back to where Sherye stood. "You haven't gotten all dressed up in a long time, not since your accident."

  Once again Sherye felt a pain in her chest once she realized why Yvette had reverted to her shell when she first saw her. Yvette was afraid Sherye was going to start staying out at night once again.

  "That's true," she replied in a husky voice. "I wanted to wait until your papa could take me, and he's been very busy."

  Yvette took Sherye's hand and squeezed it. "You look so pretty, maman."

  "Thank you, darling."

  "Come," Raoul said briskly. "We must be on our way."

  Sherye gave her daughter a hug and a kiss, smiled at Louise and joined Raoul at the door. Yvette giggled when Raoul took Sherye's hand and led her into the hallway.

  Sherye could feel herself blushing like a silly schoolgirl and all because her husband continued to grasp her hand as he escorted her down the stairway and out to his car.

  They were passing the gates when Raoul spoke. "Is there someplace in particular you would like to go?"

  She couldn't seem to keep her gaze off his hands and the way his long fingers looked so capable wrapped around the steering wheel. She glanced up at his face. "Not really."

  "Can't remember any of your favorite haunts?"

  She stiffened. "Is that why you invited me out tonight, in hopes we can find something that might jog my memory?"

  "Hardly. Quite frankly, I realized today that I'm not all that eager to have your memory return if your lack of memory means that you'll continue to behave as you have these past few weeks."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, come on. You must know how you have the whole household buzzing, wondering what has occurred to make you behave so differently. It's almost as if you're a different person!"

  "I feel like a different person," she replied in a low voice. "I continue to have trouble relating to the woman who's been described to me."

  "Perhaps the blow to your head is proving beneficial in many ways." >

  "I take it you prefer me the way I am now?"

  The smile he gave her was seductive. "Much."

  "Does this mean that you no longer want a divorce?"

  His smile disappeared and a small frown formed over the bridge of his nose. "I just know that I'm tired of being married without having a wife. If we're going to continue our marriage, I would like to see some changes."

  "Such as?"

  "I want more than a wife in name only."

  She swallowed. "I see."

  "However, I can understand that as far as you're concerned, you've only known me a few weeks, and in that time I've been considerably less than loverlike."

  She could find nothing with which to argue in that statement so she wisely remained silent.

  "I realized that the only fair thing for me to do in this situation is to spend more time with you and allow you to get to know me once again."

  "I take it that you no longer expect my memory to return."

  He didn't respond immediately, obviously mulling over her comment. "I have no idea. Neither, from all indications, do the doctors. Consequently we've been living in a state of limbo that is rapidly becoming untenable." He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the roadway. "Everything could come back to you tomorrow. On the other hand, you may never remember anything before waking up in the hospital."

  She knew he was right. What surprised her was the realization that her memory loss wasn't as upsetting to her now as it was when she first discovered she couldn't recall anything.

  "Perhaps I've been afraid to remember," she murmured.

  She could feel him stiffen beside her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

  "I'm not so sure that I want to know why I did some of the things I've been told about. My past behavior has been less than admirable." She smiled to herself, feeling wistful. "All I know for certain is that I have enjoyed these past few weeks tremendously. The children are an absolute delight, I've gotten to know Danielle and feel that we are on our way to being friends. Which reminds me..."

  When she didn't say anything more, he prompted her with, "Yes?"

  "I've been told by several people that I spent most of my time away from home with my friends and yet I have heard from no one but you and your family since I awakened in the hospital."

  "I wondered when you would notice."

  "Do you know why I haven't heard from anyone?"

  "As a matter of fact, I've been puzzled by the same omission. I would have expected to have them calling you on a regular basis. The only thing I could think was that perhaps you had a fight with someone in the group and they are all punishing you with their silence."

  "I suppose that's possible. You did say that I was alone at the time of my accident?"

  "Yes."

  "A passing motorist found me? A stranger?"

  "That's what the police told me. You were already at the hospital by the time I reached you."

  She rubbed her forehea
d. "Perhaps it would be worth remembering just to have some answers to so many puzzling questions."

  "There's another question you haven't asked that I've been waiting to hear."

  She looked at him in surprise. "What is that?"

  "Did I have anything to do with your accident?"

  His matter-of-fact statement spoken in a quiet voice shook her more than she wanted to admit to herself. "But you said—I mean, how could you have— You were at the chateau, didn't you say?"

  "Don't you believe me capable of planning such an accident? Looking at it from one viewpoint, I certainly had enough motive to want an end to what had become an intolerable relationship. Maman mentioned that she told you I'd spoken to an attorney. I'll admit when you didn't regain consciousness and the doctors were uncertain of the outcome, I could see where a rather solid case could be built against me, given our circumstances."

  She stared at the road, aware of the careless ease with which he followed its twists and rums. Was this really happening? Was she riding along with her husband while he matter-of-factly explained why he might want her dead?

  She shook her head. "This is ridiculous."

  "What is?"

  "This conversation. You would not have discussed the possibility of a divorce with an attorney if you'd intended to do away with me. Besides, you told me that I left with very little notice and that you didn't know where I was going. So how could you have possibly arranged an accident?"

  "Ah. So you had thought of the idea."

  The blasted man actually sounded pleased that he was right!

  They spoke no more until they reached the restaurant in a nearby city. They were greeted at the door by name with smiles from everyone who seated and served them.

  "You must come here often," she commented after they had ordered.

  "I bring business associates here on occasion. From the statements I used to receive, I would say that you and your friends spent a considerable amount of time here, as well."

  Now that she sat across from him she could better judge his expression. The problem was that he had carefully masked his thoughts and feelings.. .much the way Yvette had earlier in the evening.

  Was he afraid of being hurt? Surely not. Raoul DuBois was much too self-assured to feel anything other than at ease with their present situation.

  "So these are familiar surroundings," she said, looking around the room with interest. "I wonder if there's anyone here I'm supposed to know?"

  "If so, they're very carefully ignoring us, since you arrived with your husband."

  There. Hadn't she caught a hint of feeling in that last remark? A hint of—what? What had she heard for an instant? Sarcasm—oh, yes, there was always a hint of sarcasm in everything he said. Or perhaps it was mockery, although she could never be certain whether his mockery was directed at her or himself.

  "The wine is exquisite," she said, hoping to find a more comfortable subject.

  "Thank you," he said, lifting his glass in a slight gesture. "I'm rather proud of it, myself."

  Her eyes widened. She glanced at her glass. "You mean this is from your vineyards?"

  His smile flashed brightly in the dim lighting. "But of course. I would want to order our wine whenever possible, unless I'm checking the quality of our competitors."

  She took another sip. How strange to be a part of something so traditional and not to remember anything.

  "I keep getting the strangest prompting," she said after a moment. "I'll think of something that I want to mention to Janine before I realize that I can't place her and no one seems to know who she is."

  "What is it you wish to tell this friend?"

  "Oh, about all of this." She gestured toward the room. "I feel as though this is the first time I've been here, the first time we've been out together, and I want to share it all. I want to tell her about the children, and my gardening and about..." Her words began to slow. "My marriage."

  "This Janine would be surprised?"

  She nodded slowly. "Yes. Because none of it really exists for me. All of it is just a beautiful dream."

  He held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

  The music had been playing quietly in the background and she hadn't noticed other couples moving toward the dance floor. "But our food—"

  "Will wait on us, I'm sure. In any event, we won't be gone long. For some reason I have a strong urge to hold you in my arms." He smiled down at her. "The urge proves to be irresistible."

  Once again she could almost believe that she was in a Charles Boyer movie, listening to Raoul's fluent English with just a touch of his native tongue to add a subtle difference.

  As soon as he placed his arms around her she caught her breath.

  "Relax. I'm not going to bite you," he said, pulling her close to him. He kissed her ear. "I might want to nibble here and there, of course—"

  She looked up at him in surprise to find his eyes f illed with amusement.

  He was flirting with her and she felt totally unaccomplished and vulnerable. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in the exclusive restaurant and on the dance floor. Shouldn't she be at ease, as well? Wasn't this her life-style— her playground, so to speak?

  Why didn't any of it feel natural? Why did she feel so self-conscious? Surely a model would be used to having people stare at her, and she had certainly garnered more than her fair share of looks and whispers tonight.

  "Ah, I believe our order has arrived," Raoul whispered, and taking her hand he led her from the dance floor back to where they had been seated. Sherye was glad to returned to their secluded table.

  "Why are all those people watching us?"

  "You. They're watching you."

  "Why?"

  "You really don't know, do you? Have you forgotten how beautiful you are? How that dress dramatically displays your assets?"

  "I should have worn something else! Something not quite so revealing, something that—" She ran down as she recalled that all the evening wear in her closet was designed to catch the eye.

  Raoul reached across the table and took her hand. "Please relax and enjoy yourself. I thought getting out would be a treat for you- You've stayed home for so long."

  "It is a treat, and I'm enjoying it, but I feel so out of place, nervous that I'm going to do something to make a fool of myself."

  He laughed. "You could never do that."

  "Wanna bet? I remember the time when I— When—" She stammered to a sudden halt, her mind blank.

  "When?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. I had a flash of something but when I tried to explain, it was gone." She touched her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "For a minute there I saw something—remembered something—about school. Perhaps when I was going to school—or—" She waited, but nothing else came. She shook her head. "I can't remember. Whatever it was escaped me."

  "Does this happen to you often?"

  "Often enough. It's frustrating because the harder I try to remember, the more fleeting the memory."

  "Let's enjoy our meal, shall we? I want you to relax tonight. We'll do this more often. I think I have everything under control at the winery. I'll take more time off and we can spend a few hours together each day. I feel as though I'm just getting to know you, too, which is a rather strange sensation. You rarely do or say the expected thing anymore. I find myself sitting back, waiting with a sense of anticipation for what's going to happen next where you are concerned."

  She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're different, too."

  "From what?"

  "From the man that came to visit me in the hospital. He was cold... and arrogant... and sarcastic."

  "You don't see me that way now?"

  "Not as much. Perhaps you are wary, perhaps suspicious at times, but there are times when I catch glimpses of someone who intrigues me very much."

  "Then I would say that we've made a good beginning for one evening, wouldn't you?"

  "It's been a lovely evening. Thank
you."

  "You are most welcome. Now, then, if you're through with your meal, I would very much like to dance with you some more."

  His gaze was filled with admiration. There were no shadows of wariness in their depths.

  Sherye floated to the dance floor on Raoul's arm, convinced she never wanted this night to end.

  Chapter 10

  The moon rode high in the sky on their way home. Sherye was content to lean back against the headrest and gaze out at the landscape brushed with silver light. She was enjoying the companionable silence between them. Raoul had seemed more relaxed—happier—tonight than she had ever seen him before. Without his stern visage he'd looked years younger. And what a dancer! Light on his feet, graceful, easy to follow.

  She felt like an adolescent with a crush on a movie hero.

  But Raoul was real... and he was her husband.

  One thing had been evident tonight. He wanted her. He'd made no effort to hide his reaction to her body pressed so closely to his.

  She'd been just as aroused. Perhaps both of them needed the long drive home in order to gain some control, although he'd made it clear earlier in the evening that he wanted more from her than their present relationship.

  She couldn't think of anything she'd rather have than a workable marriage.

  Wasn't it too soon? a small voice kept asking somewhere inside her.

  Too soon for what? They had been married for years. Whatever had caused her discontent was mercifully blocked from her mind and her memory.

  Perhaps she was being a coward, but she had come to the place in her life and situation where she preferred to keep her discontent at bay.

  For the first time since she had awakened in the hospital she was ready to release her need to remember the past. Instead she prayed for her future, one that would include Raoul, Yvette and Jules.

  "Shall I let you out at the front door?" Raoul asked as they approached the chateau.

  She wasn't ready for the evening to end. More particularly, she wasn't ready to bid Raoul good-night at the moment, so she shook her head and said, "I'll ride with you to the garage."

  He didn't comment, and since he was in deep shadow she couldn't see his expression.