A Special Man

by Billie Green

  "Dr. Beidermyer?" Amanda said. When he nodded, she said, "We've never met, but you know my parents—Jed and Donna Timbers? I'm Amanda, and this is Daniel Phillips. We'd like to talk to you if you have time."

  "Of course," he said, pleasure showing in his eyes. "Come in, come in."

  When they were seated in a small, comfortable study

  and had refused his offer of refreshment, the doctor said, "How are Jed and Donna? I get a card from them occasionally, but not nearly often enough. The last one was from France."

  She nodded. "They loved France. Ireland is home base for them, but I don't think they stay there very often. They've always wanted to travel, and now that Dad is retired, they just don't stop."

  The older man laughed. "That sounds like Jed. He's a whirlwind. Donna always seemed a little stunned by him."

  "Dr. Beidermyer," Daniel said, and Amanda could sense his impatience. "We've come to you for some advice, and it's a little... frankly it's a little sensitive."

  "Shoot," the doctor said. "Even though I've retired, I'm still a licensed physician and, as such, will respect any confidences given me."

  Daniel nodded, relaxing visibly. "I appreciate that."

  When he smiled, Amanda's eyes widened. The smile was as stunning as his laugh.

  "The problem is my teenage nephew," Daniel said. "For a few days recently he stayed with us at Amanda's cabin and left some things behind. When we were boxing them up to send them on to him, we found this." He pulled the vial out of his pocket. "On the whole, he's not a bad kid, and I don't want to upset his parents unnecessarily. Can you tell us what it is?"

  Amanda wondered if her mouth was hanging open. He had told the fabrication so easily. No one could have guessed that it was not the absolute truth.

  Dr. Beidermyer took the vial from Daniel while he fumbled in the breast pocket of his shirt for his glasses. "I can certainly try," he said, studying the label. After a moment, he glanced up. "I'm afraid I don't recognize the name, but that doesn't mean anything. It could be the manufacturer's rather than a generic name. Or it might even be fake." He pulled off his glasses, frowning slightly. "I could send it to the lab in Las Vegas to be analyzed."

  "How long would that take?" Daniel asked.

  The older man rubbed his chin. "If I put a rush on it, I could have the results back in two, maybe three days."

  Daniel nodded. "That's fine. We'll take care of any charge, of course."

  Later in the car, as they drove back to town, Daniel held his silence, but somehow she sensed a change. Just outside the city limits, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Resting his chin on the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead.

  Amanda could feel the tension in him. She jumped skittishly when he slapped the steering wheel with his open hand.

  "There's nothing we can do until we get the results from the laboratory. Agreed?"

  She nodded slowly, wondering at the intensity in his voice.

  "I can't stand the thought of going back to that cabin right now. There's nothing to do there but think." He turned his head toward her. "And I've had enough thinking to last me two lifetimes. So how about a truce? A vacation from this hell?" There was an underlying urgency in him that couldn't be disguised. "Why don't we have lunch, then do some sight-seeing like two ordinary tourists who have nothing more pressing to think about than if they have enough film in their camera."

  Before she could answer one way or the other, he turned his head and met her gaze. "Look, I know this thing has been eating at you, too. We both need a day off."

  She closed her eyes. "That sounds like heaven. Absolute heaven."

  "Well, I don't know about heaven," he said, smiling slowly. "But then I never figured I would make it to heaven anyway."

  For lunch, they found a small cafe with genuine Nevada artifacts decorating the walls. Afterward, as they walked around the small town, Amanda felt three hundred years younger than she had that morning. It was a strange sensation, watching his personality unfold. At first the change was hesitant, then it seemed to come with a rush Of relief.

  They played Mom and Pop Tourist, pointing out things to each other like the post office and the VFW lodge. There were times when she would realize with a sense of shock that this laughing man beside her was the same man who had practically accused her of marrying him for his money. But every time a negative thought appeared, she shoved it down again, determined to make the most of this small gap in reality.

  "And this is, of course, the pride of Allendale," Daniel said as they walked along the cracked sidewalk.

  She glanced skeptically at the mud-brown, three story hotel he indicated. "Yes, I can see that." Then she leaned toward him and whispered, "Why is it the pride of Allendale?"

  "Are you kidding? Haven't you heard of all the famous people who have slept there?"

  She shook her head. "You're not going to tell me that George Washington slept there, are you? Because I don't believe it."

  "George Washington?" he repeated, raising a brow. "Small potatoes, my dear Amanda. We're talking about people like Fats Domino and Troy Donahue."

  She threw back her head and laughed. They had really and truly called a truce. Neither of them made any reference to the past or even the uncertainties of the present. It was as though they had agreed to pretend to be someone other than who they really were. If they also had to pretend to be at ease with each other, then it was working beautifully. Amanda had somehow separated in her mind the man she was with today, not only from Danny, but from the cold stranger in the cabin.

  "Oh, there's a drugstore," she said, pulling on his arm. "Wait here for me while I get some toothpaste."

  Without waiting for a response, she ran across the street and entered the drugstore. The small store reminded her of movies she had seen about the fifties. There was a soda fountain on one side of the room with shiny, stainless-steel equipment behind the counter and swiveling stools in front of it.

  Toilet and health items crowded the walls and one center display and it took her a few minutes to find the toothpaste. She grabbed a bottle of aspirin on her way to the cash register at the back of the store.

  As she dug in her purse to pay for her purchases, she heard someone move behind her and glanced around.

  "Daniel," she said in surprise. "I'm sorry. Was I taking too long?"

  He stared at her for a moment in silence, then smiled and shook his head. "I decided I couldn't miss seeing the drugstore. When you finish, I'll buy you a Coke," he added, nodding at the soda fountain.

  There had been a strange quality to his smile, something she couldn't put her finger on. But she didn't dwell on it. Today wasn't the day for dwelling, she decided as she moved to join him at the counter.

  Later, as he drove, Daniel whistled under his breath. Even now, when they were on their way back to the cabin, she was aware that the atmosphere between them had undergone a subtle change, and she couldn't put her finger on exactly what the change was.

  It was only as she was climbing into bed that night that it occurred to her that she could have gotten in touch with Ted while they were in town.

  That was why he had followed her into the drugstore. He had been testing her and evidently she had passed. Without realizing it, she had placed their destinies in his hands.

  The next few days should have been tense ones, but strangely they weren't. It was as though each recognized the fact that there was nothing they could do for the time being except wait.

  For Amanda it was a time out of time. As she sat on the rug in front of the fireplace with Daniel beside her, she thought of how strange it was that they should have been here only four days. Time had both expanded and contracted.

  She smiled, remembering her physics professor. He had tried so hard to get her to grasp the fact that time had no independent existence apart from the order of events by which humans choose to measure it. He would be pleased to know that she finally understood. Without the darkness of night to show the passing of t
he time, the past few days would have been a single experience.

  Every day, Daniel was remembering more about the missing eleven years. There were still large gaps, but they knew now that it would just take time.

  Even though his returning memory pleased them both and the tension had eased, living with him was still not a comfortable experience. Exciting and unfathomable, but never anything so mundane as comfortable.

  At times he would be abrupt, even cold. Never once had he apologized—at least not in words, she amended. Every time he was short with her, every time his temper flared, he would do some small thing for her to show that he regretted his behavior.

  What bothered her more than his abruptness was something that was going on inside herself. She had tried to tell herself it was due to being cooped up in a small space with him. But deep down she didn't believe it and her reactions worried her. Because Amanda had finally admitted to herself that she was physically attracted to Daniel and had been from the beginning.

  It seemed wrong; she wasn't even sure if she liked him. Why was she suddenly wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him? To be touched by him?

  Always before, when she had been attracted to a man—even Danny—the mental and emotional attraction had come first. The physical part was simply an extension of the other.

  She even wondered if she was feeling something similar to what Virgie felt, but she knew she wasn't. Virgie needed sex for sex's sake, the man didn't matter. As Amanda glanced at the man sitting beside her on the rug, she knew that she wouldn't feel this deep need for anyone except Daniel.

  "Okay, let's start again," he said, startling her out of her reverie, bringing a slight touch of color to her cheeks. "Where were we?"

  "You were telling me about something that had happened at Christmas," she said. "Was that before or after your father died?"

  "Before," he said after a moment of thought. "I remember Lena worrying because he was so late."

  She had learned from their talks that Lena was his stepmother and Kyle, his half brother. Daniel's own mother had died before he had had a chance to know her.

  "She shouldn't have worried," he continued. "Dad was always late. He loved that company. Philton was his life. For a while after he died, I felt like a usurper every time I walked into his office and sat in his chair."

  "How was your relationship with Lena?" she asked. She had found that asking him about the times before the eleven-year gap sometimes awakened one of the lost memories.

  Daniel stared into the fire, recalling the face that was sweet and pretty but lacking strength. "We got along fairly well. She was very pretty and lots of fun to be around."

  "Did you notice that you said 'was'?"

  "She died," he said suddenly. "Two years after Dad."

  "I'm sorry. No one should have to lose two mothers in one lifetime."

  "She was never my mother." He said the words, not resentfully but matter-of-factly. He could recall vividly the day his father had brought Lena home as his new wife. Daniel had been a very shy five-year-old, and in the space of one day his whole life had changed.

  "Daniel, we have a surprise for you." His father turned to the small blond woman standing beside him. "Lena and I were married this morning. What do you think of that?"

  Daniel's green eyes were solemn in his thin face as he stared up at Lena, studying her, gauging her reaction to him. Then she smiled, and the room lit up.

  "Well, Daniel," she said, "do you think it will work? Do you think I'm mother material?"

  She wanted to like him, and she wanted him to like her. Daniel could tell by the way the smile reached her eyes. He held his knees stiff as they began to tremble slightly.

  He extended his hand toward her. "I'm glad it's you," he said, his small-boy voice husky.

  Ignoring his hand, she enveloped him in a hug that smelled of flowers and sunshine. "So am I, honey."

  No, Lena had not been his mother, but she had been a friend. And without her, Daniel wouldn't have had Kyle. Kyle had changed the texture of his life. Suddenly there was a vibrant new voice in the house, filling the empty spaces, dispersing the loneliness.

  When they had brought him home from the hospital wrapped in a blue blanket, Kyle had been red and squalling and demanding. But to seven-year-old Daniel, it hadn't mattered that the baby was ugly. Kyle was special. Daniel felt it when he looked at his brother, and he saw his opinion confirmed in Lena's and his father's expressions. Kyle was special—

  Daniel felt very important as he walked into the sitting room. Lena was reading and didn't hear him enter. He looked down at the paper in his hand. His essay had been chosen as the best in the whole sixth grade. He himself would read it to the school on Friday at assembly.

  "Lena," he said, his voice filled with quiet intensity.

  She glanced up from her book. "Daniel," she said in smiling surprise. "Is it time for you to be home already?" She studied his face. "You look like you?*e about to explode. What's this?" She reached for the paper he held.

  Before she could do more than glance at it, they head a wail from the hall. Together they rushed out of the room. Kyle's chubby face was red and streaked with tears as he sat on the stairs, rubbing his leg.

  Lena scooped him up and sat down with him in her arms while Daniel hovered anxiously. "What happened, darling?"

  "Dan left his truck on the stairs and...and I tripped," he sobbed.

  "Daniel," Lena said sternly. "That's not like you. You're usually so neat."

  Daniel frowned. Kyle must have forgotten that Daniel had given him the truck to play with that very morning. "I'm sorry, Lena," he muttered. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry you got hurt, Kyle."

  "It's all right," Kyle said, his tears dissolving in an engaging chuckle. "You always find my toys for me. I guess this time I found one for you."

  Daniel and Lena laughed, neither of them noticing the crumpled essay that lay on the polished wood floor.

  "Lena was a good woman," Daniel said, still staring into the fire. "But somehow I always felt like a spare tire. I saw her face when she was with Kyle—" his eyes took on a faraway look "—and I knew I was missing something." He shook his head and laughed. "It wasn't her fault. Kyle was chubby and cute and always laughing. I was not exactly a cuddly sort of kid."

  Though Amanda was sure he hadn't intended it, Daniel's words painted a too-vivid picture of his childhood. Suddenly Amanda felt angry for the child he had been all those years ago, always yearning for warmth and love but not knowing how to get it. She could imagine him solemn and quiet, but always wishing he could be different.

  Daniel watched Amanda from the corners of his eyes, wondering what she was thinking. These memory sessions couldn't be very interesting for her, but she always asked another question, as though more were involved than just his remembering, as though she were working out a puzzle.

  "Lena didn't marry again after your father died?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Two years isn't that long. She was very much in love with my father. I'll always be grateful to her for that."

  Lena's death had been harder on Kyle than it had been on Daniel, even though the younger man hadn't been with her at the end as Daniel had. Kyle had flown back from Italy for the funeral, and the change in him had shocked Daniel. The change hadn't been only physical and mental; it had been emotional as well.

  "I need a drink," Kyle said as they left the cemetery together. They had not talked about Lena's last hours yet, and Daniel wondered if Kyle would be able to handle it.

  "You look like you need about a month's rest," Daniel said. "What have you been doing to yourself over there?"

  Kyle grinned. "You know what they say about Italian women."

  "If your dissipation is due to Italian women, I think you'd better come home and stick to good old American girls."

  "I wouldn't, even if I could," Kyle said, his voice unexpectedly solemn. "I'm making a life for myself over there, Dan. You wouldn't believe the people I do business wi
th. Powerful men, men who can have anything in the world they want just by snapping their fingers."

  Daniel studied his brother silently. "Are you working too hard, Kyle? Is the business worrying you?"

  "Hello, no." Kyle glanced up at Daniel. "This is a switch. I never thought you would tell me to stop working."

  "You can carry anything too far. Just don't overdo it. And for heaven's sake, let me hear from you once in a while. It shouldn't take a tragedy to get us together."

  Kyle fell silent, and Daniel knew he was thinking of Lena. He would never tell his brother how she had begged for her son at the end. Daniel could spare him that pain

  Daniel frowned. Italy was a long way away, but that didn't explain why Kyle had not been to Greenleigh in the whole time Daniel was there. Surely someone had told him when Daniel was institutionalized. "How old were you when you were married?" Daniel's thoughts came back to the woman beside him with a jolt. It took him a second to assimilate her question, then he grimaced. "Nineteen, if you can believe that," he said, giving a short laugh. "Not even dry behind the ears."

  Daniel didn't like to think about his marriage. It had lasted only six months, but he always felt he should have known what was happening sooner. Her name was Joanne—pretty, sweet, greedy Joanne.

  "But Daniel, everyone will be at the Baxters' tonight. We've just got to go."

  He watched Joanne silently as she stood naked, pulling dress after dress from the closet. He tried to call up the emotions he had felt when he had married her, but even desire was gone.

  "I told you last week I won't go to this party," he said quietly. "You're free to go by yourself."

  She swung around toface him, her features unattractive with mottled anger. "You're jealous," she hissed. "You know Stu Baxter likes me, and it's eating away at you."

  "Don't be coy, Jo. Everyone knows you're sleeping with Stuart Baxter." He turned his back on her, the sight of her making him a little sick. "I just wish you had decided you liked the fun-loving type before you married me."