by Billie Green
"Danny," she said breathlessly, "finding a new friend is a wonderful thing, a special thing. It's an event I would like to stay conscious to appreciate. I won't do that if you keep knocking me senseless."
He laughed in delight, interpreting her mood if not her words.
"Seriously," she said, "you have to be very careful of your strength. It's normal to you, but others are not so strong."
A playful gleam appeared in his unusual gray eyes. "Danny," she said warily, "I don't like that look. What are you thinking?"
He grabbed her waist and held her up in the air. "I'm thinking that I like being strong," he said in satisfaction as he turned her sideways over his head so that she looked down at him.
"Daniel Phillips," she said, trying to make her voice stern, but it was hard to sound dignified when she was hanging in the air. "Put me down." Her lip quivered.
He smiled up at her. "Why?"
"Put me down," she said again, and this time the laughter in her voice was obvious.
"You look funny upside down," he said, cocking his head to one side to study her. "Like those faces people make on their fists."
"What a lovely compliment," she said, opening her eyes wide. "I bet you're known as the Byron of Greenleigh. Immortal words," she said, watching the laughter grow in his strong face. "Words to put on my tombstone. 'She had a face like one of those that people make on their fists.'"
Deep laughter Tang through the trees as he sat down with her in his arms. She leaned against him, sharing the joy she felt in him. When he lay back, he pulled her along with him.
Then, as Amanda watched, his eyes turned green. It was the damnedest thing she had ever witnessed. One minute they were deep, placid gray; the next minute they were emerald green. Stunned, Amanda stared into them and found a blazing green fire...and she couldn't look away.
She was transported to another place in those eyes, to another time. He took her over completely until she felt she had lived a lifetime in those eyes, a lifetime in green fire.
Then the green faded and calm gray took over. The change left her weak. She felt lost as though something important had disappeared. Rolling away abruptly, she felt the color drain from her face.
"Why do you look funny?"
She swallowed heavily, plucking a blade of grass. "Funny, ha-ha?"
"No, like you found a worm in your apple."
Her laugh was hesitant. "I guess I'm not used to having a friend yet."
"It's nice, isn't it?"
She felt the tension drain from her. It was all right, she thought. She was comfortable again. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, it's nice."
They lay on their backs, staring up at the clouds. "Where do you suppose the clouds will go from here?" Danny asked after a moment, his voice quiet. "Who do you think will see them next?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe they'll go to Hollywood to audition for a movie."
He laughed. "Not a monster movie," he said. "One with music. They're musical kind of clouds." He was silent for a moment. "They pass over us and then the highway, then what else will they see on their way to Hollywood? Tell me what they'll see, Mandy."
She smiled. She liked that. No one had ever called her Mandy. She had never thought she was a Mandy sort of person, but now, with Danny, she was.
"Oh, I don't know," she said lazily. "They might see traffic on the highway. Then maybe horse ranches and things growing. Maybe the people on the ranches are lying on their backs wondering where the clouds will go next."
"We could tell them." His voice was soft and husky. "They're on their way to Hollywood to be movie stars."
"I think they have to be parking-lot attendants first."
He gave a shout of surprised laughter. Rolling over, he leaned on one elbow to stare down at her. "It's nice talking to you. No one else can—" He frowned as though reaching for a word that was just beyond his grasp. "No one else can make dreams with me."
She reached up to touch his face. "That's important, isn't it? Having someone to make dreams with you."
As she stared into his eyes something grew inside her, something warm and comforting. Why, she thought in amazement, we really are friends. She had thought that she was merely humoring him. But that was wrong. She felt a closeness, an empathy, that didn't include an ounce of pity. Once she had passed the barrier of her own making, she found that they were curiously equal. They accepted each other as they each were in reality. It was something rare that she had found, something rare and fine and beyond her understanding.
During the two weeks that followed, the friendship between Amanda and Danny grew. The brightest part of her day was the time she spent with Danny. He was the friend she had missed in the gypsy years of her childhood. They played tennis and rode and walked and swam. And they laughed. Always with Danny there was laughter.
He had a way of making her look at the world differently. He found something new and wonderful around every corner. With Danny, there were miracles under their very feet.
Dr. Sutherland had left for England two days after her arrival, but she hadn't missed him. In the past two weeks she had gotten to know the others—guests and staff alike—who inhabited Greenleigh Acres.
Ginny had come to be a friend. Amanda now knew the harassed state she had found the nurse in that first day was chronic. She was obviously in love with Paul Choate, but just as obviously, something had gone wrong between them. Something Ginny refused to talk about.
Evelyn Baxter, the mischievous stripper, each day found a new way to liven the place up. Whenever Amanda heard a sudden shriek, a startled gasp, she knew that Evelyn was at work again.
Then there was Virgie DeVries. Virgie was no longer just an oddity to Amanda. She was brash and vulgar and harsh, but her sense of humor outshone all the other qualities. Always, beneath the brashness, beneath the sarcasm, Virgie's eyes were scared.
But none of the residents at Greenleigh touched Amanda like Danny did, she thought as she leaned back in her leather chair, staring at the clock on the mantel. It was almost time for her to meet him, a daily occurrence now. She hadn't realized it was becoming a habit until the habit was already established.
The door opened and a small, fidgety girl rushed in. "Here's the Wilson file," Maxi said, sliding to a stop in front of Amanda's desk. "I'm sorry I took so long getting it back to you, but the insurance papers somehow got thrown away and I had to go through all the trash looking for them."
Amanda smiled. Maxi did odd jobs for what was unofficially called Pencil Pusher's Row. She lost or misplaced something on the average of twice a day.
But everyone covered for her because she was Dr. Nabors's niece and because they all liked her.
"That's all right, Maxi," Amanda said. "I didn't need it anyway." She studied the flustered girl. "Is something wrong? You look worried,"
Maxi pushed back her frizzy blond hair. "I think Leah's going to try and get me fired," she said, her lip quivering. "She exploded when I lost her schedule."
Amanda frowned. Leah was the fly in everyone's ointment. She was beautiful and intelligent, but held herself above everyone. Amanda had caught her in small cruelties that seemed to be perpetrated for their own sake.
"Don't worry about Leah," Amanda said. "If you left, she would have one less person to torment."
Amanda had intended to be sarcastic, but crazily, Maxi brightened. "You're right," the girl said. "The next gofer might stand up to her." She glanced at the clock and smiled. "It's time for Danny."
Amanda laughed. Greenleigh was like a small rural town. It didn't take long for everyone to know everyone else's business.
When Maxi left, Amanda walked out and closed the door to her office, her steps eager. As she rounded a corner she almost ran into Maribel Fortnoy and Virgie. The older woman cradled a battered doll in her arms and had her tongue stuck out to her chin as she belligerently faced Virgie.
A social comment no doubt, Amanda thought wryly. Maribel Fortnoy was definitely no shrinking violet; she was more of
a spoiled brat.
"Hello, Maribel. Virgie," Amanda said as she drew near. "What's up?"
Maribel glanced at Amanda, her belligerence giving way to pathos. "Don't tell them where I am," she whispered. "They'll punish me. They always do. They think I'm worth nothing."
"They might be on to something," Virgie muttered.
"Virgie," Amanda said, her voice scolding. She reached out to comfort Maribel, but the older woman backed away. "They won't punish you, Maribel. They only want you to be comfortable. Don't you think you should let someone know where you are? They might be worried."
"I've been trying to tell her that," Virgie said, leaning against the wall as though the whole thing were annoying, "but she's nutty as a fruitcake. She thinks they'll send her to bed without supper."
Maribel nodded. "They will. They'll starve me until I rot. And they'll take Debbie away from me and she'll die without me." She smoothed back the doll's matted hair.
Just then, Ginny rounded the corner. Her hair was awry as usual and she panted with exertion. "Maribel, there you are. Guess what I have for you?"
"You're going to tie me down," Maribel said in resignation.
"Not today, dear. The cook made those special cookies you like so much."
"The ones with lemon icing?" Suddenly Maribel was a little girl who had been promised a treat, a treat that she knew she didn't deserve.
"That's right. Come on, let's get some."
"Evelyn can't have any," Maribel said as Ginny guided her away. "She's been bad. We could give her share to Debbie. And I won't sit next to Mr. Avery; he tries to look under Debbie's dress."
"Mr. Avery has tried that a few times with me, too," Virgie said.
Amanda laughed as Virgie walked away, but the encounter disturbed her. Maribel had Sutherland's Complex. Danny had Sutherland's Complex. How could the difference between them be so enormous? Maribel was a fractious, whining tattletale. Danny was open and loving in the extreme.
Sometimes it scared Amanda. His openness made him so vulnerable. She simply couldn't bear the thought of his being hurt.
On the open side of the employees' wing, the garden extended clear to the woods. It was on the edge of the woods that she had arranged to meet Danny. As she made her way through the tame, brightly colored bushes, a frown marred her features. She had never felt the weight of a friendship before. Relationships had always been casual things to Amanda. Only now was she finding it to be a responsibility as well as a joy.
Suddenly, she saw him waiting beside a bush. When he heard her footsteps, he turned and his face lit up. All the brightness in her world was contained in the smile that shaped his strong lips. Amanda was enveloped by it. She felt her pulse quicken when he extended his hands to her.
As she caught them both in hers, she heard him whisper, "Mandy."
Why should that single word bring tears to her eyes? she wondered. Inhaling slowly, she smiled. "Have I kept you waiting?"
"I don't mind. While I wait I can think about seeing you. It makes my time with you longer." He pulled at her hand. "Come and look. I found a nest. The eggs are gone, but... but come see how the bird made it."
He held the nest up for her to examine. "Isn't it beautiful?" he said, his voice soft and husky.
Amanda touched the small nest. The intricacy of it was amazing. "And I bet this didn't even come with instructions," she said.
He laughed as she knew he would. Together they began to walk through the woods until they came to a spot on the bank of a clear stream. The sun filtered through the trees in golden threads. Soft, curly ferns grew along the edges of the water, making it a setting for a fantasy. It was Amanda's favorite spot among all the beauties of Greenleigh.
"One day..." she said softly as she sat beneath a towering oak, her knees drawn to her chest. "One day a unicorn is going to peep out from behind those ferns." She leaned back against the rough bark and smiled. "He'll be a world-weary unicorn, his tail ragtag, his horn scarred from fighting eons of morally upright unicorns. And he won't particularly care for virgins or perfection. And he'll be just exactly right for you and me, Danny."
Amanda never knew how much Danny understood, but he always, as he did now, kept his eyes on her face while she talked, as though he would memorize each of her features, as though he could absorb what she was saying rather than hear it.
These times with Danny were the only times Amanda felt she could truly be herself, no pretenses, no excuses. There were invisible threads of understanding between them, threads that wound tighter and tighter each day.
The; silence between them drew out and suddenly she stiffened, instantly alert. Something was wrong. She glanced up, her body tense, her breath held. Her gaze met green fire. She felt the power of it, pulling her in, taking away her will. It was inside her, around her, filling every corner of her mind and her body.
He knew, she thought dazedly. She read knowledge in that green gaze.
Moving closer, he knelt beside her. She held herself still as he reached out to gently stroke her face. "Like Nidhug curled up at the root of Yggdrasil," he murmured, his voice deep and husky.
Amanda felt dizzy. The words echoed in her brain, growing louder and louder. Rising to her knees, she grasped his shoulders tightly. "What did you say?" she rasped out. "Tell me again."
He shook his head as though coming out of a trance. Slowly, he smiled. "I don't remember." He sat down and glanced at her from the corners of his gray eyes. "Was it rude? You look funny."
She reached up to touch his face, her hand shaking. "Try to remember, Danny. I think it's important."
"Danny!"
At the shout, they both turned and watched Tom Dicks approaching. "You two look cozy," he said, smiling.
Amanda didn't like him. She hadn't thought of him, one way or another until that moment, but now she knew she didn't like him. There was a look on his face that was just a shade too avid as he watched them. She stood and dusted her pants. "Did you want something?"
"It's time for Danny's appointment with Dr. Nabors." His gaze drifted slowly over her body. "He'll have to cut his playtime short today." He didn't move, but simply stood staring at her.
"Was there something else you wanted, Tom?" she asked sharply.
He smiled and shook his head slowly. "Not a thing.. .how about you? Was there something else you wanted?"
When she glanced away from the malicious humor in his eyes, he laughed aloud. "Come on, Danny boy. Time to go."
Amanda turned to Danny, her features softening. "I'll see you tomorrow, Danny."
He nodded, giving Amanda a look that was so wistful, it broke her heart. But without protest, he turned and began to walk away with Tom.
When they were out of sight, Amanda leaned against the tree, feeling curiously weak. Something was happening to her, she thought shakily. Something that she had never felt before. And suddenly she was scared. She felt drained and weak, powerless to stop the future.
It was much later when she asked herself why she should want the future stopped at all.
Chapter Four
"God, give me strength."
The groaned words brought Amanda's head up sharply. Ginny was closing the door with one ample hip. Today the nurse looked even more frazzled than usual. Her pale hair was pulled loose from the ponytail in places, and there was a wide run in her green stockings.
She set one of the two cups of coffee she carried on the desk in front of Amanda. The other she cradled between the fingers of both hands as she sat on the couch.
Amanda didn't even try to hide her smile. "Has Mr. Avery been getting frisky again?"
"Among others." Ginny sighed heavily and leaned back. "Virgie just tried to get a game of strip poker going in the old-timers' wing."
Choking on the coffee, Amanda raised one slender brow in startled inquiry. "She must have put up quite a fight. You look terrible."
"Virgie? No, she went back to her room like a lamb. It was the old people who did this. They rioted when I told them t
here would be no party today." She rested her chin on her fist. "Why don't we get any nice, normal old people? If you've ever wanted to know where old perverts go, you can stop wondering. They all come here."
Amanda laughed. "You know you would hate working with ordinary people. These people won't wither away and die. Their personalities are too strong. But that means it's more difficult to take care of them."
"Easy for you to say," she grumbled, then stood. "I'm for a swim. How about you?"
Amanda shook her head. "I've got a couple of things to take care of. But I'll see you later."
Amanda's eyes were thoughtful as the door closed behind her friend. She wished there was something she could do to help Ginny and Paul. From bits and pieces each had told her and from what she had seen on her own, she knew Leah was the problem. Whatever had happened, Paul was obviously as deeply in love with Ginny as she was with him.
Shutting a large manila folder, she leaned back in her chair then glanced at her watch. It was almost time for her to close up shop. It was hard to believe she had been at Greenleigh a whole month.
She smiled as she thought of the ride she had taken earlier today with Danny. When they had stopped to walk through the woods, he had found a baby rabbit caught in a tangle of blackberry brambles. She could still see his big square hands, the fingers tender as he pulled the animal free and set it on its way.
Rubbing her chin reflectively, she considered the curious relationship that had developed between them. In her mind, he was no longer mentally handicapped. He was not a patient. He was simply Danny. And they were friends.
She frowned, remembering the change that came over him at times. It didn't happen often, sometimes coming and going with breathtaking swiftness, sometimes lingering long enough to pull her into a bewildering green spell.
The difference in his features at those times was striking, puzzling her. His eyes looked deeper set, not so wide open, the lines around them and his mouth becoming harsher. The pupils of the eyes seemed to be darker. And the eyes themselves were the strangest of all. They didn't sparkle gray; they blazed with a green inferno.
