A Special Man

by Billie Green

  "You bastard," she spat out. "Do you think 1 intended it to be forever? Stu's lawyers are working on the divorce papers right now."

  She bit her lip, and Daniel knew she had told him more than she had intended. He smiled. "I'm afraid you're a little late, my darling wife. My lawyer beat you to it."

  . Her face was bright red with fury. "On what grounds? I warn you, you won't get away with telling lies about me, Daniel. If you make trouble... if you don't give me everything that's coming to me, I'll tell everyone the truth."

  "The truth won't hurt me, Jo," he said wearily. "But I have a feeling the truth isn't what you have in mind."

  "It's the truth all right. You haven't touched me in two months. And I know why." Her voice was smug. "You don't like women, do you, Daniel. I'll bet Stu could hire a private detective and get pictures that would shock everyone in California."

  Daniel smiled. "People in California aren't so easily shocked. Don't even try it, Jo. You'll make a nice sum for having put up with me for all these months. I advise you to be satisfied with that."

  But she hadn't, of course, Daniel thought. He glanced at Amanda. "I deserved everything I got. It taught me a lesson. I learned real quick that she was more interested in being Mrs. Daniel Phillips than in being my wife. Dad bought me out of that one, but I made sure he never had to do it again."

  Amanda turned away from him, afraid to let him see what was in her eyes. It all fit together, she thought. At last she understood why he seemed so hard. The lesson he had learned was to trust no one but himself.

  Sitting up straighter, she said, "Tell me again about Philton. Surely someone who worked there eleven years ago is still there."

  "Jonas Brady?" he murmured. He thought of the lined face of the man who had been his right hand and his father's before him. Then he slowly shook his head. "It doesn't make any difference. Even if Jonas is still there, I wouldn't get in touch with him. I wouldn't even call Kyle."

  She stared at him in bewilderment. "Why not?''

  "I've tried to look at this from the other side. Everyone I know surely has heard that I was institutionalized. If I call and say, 'Hey, I'm all right now,' what are they going to do? If they cared at all, they wouldn't take a chance that I was wrong. They would feel it was their duty to try to get me back to Greenleigh. And I don't think I could stand it." Again he shook his head, but more emphatically this time. "No, even if I knew of someone I could trust, it wouldn't be fair to put that kind of burden on anyone." He stretched. "I guess I'll just have to confront the dragon by myself."

  She stiffened in shock. "Why do you say that?"

  He glanced at her in inquiry. "I just explained why. I don't want—"

  "No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Why did you phrase it that way—confront the dragon?'"

  His eyes were puzzled. "I don't know. It just came out that way. You look strange. Why does it matter how I put it?"

  She blinked back unexpected tears. "It doesn't matter," she assured him huskily. "It just seemed a little out of character."

  He smiled wryly. "If that means you can't picture me in a fantasy, then you're right. I'll leave the fantasies to you."

  "And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, anger effectively drying her tears.

  "You're the Don Quixote around here, not me." He paused for a moment, studying her. "But you're not really, are you? I think I've finally figured you out."

  "Oh, really. How nice for you," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  "Yes, really. You were in love with him, weren't you?"

  The words were said bluntly, startling her as they fell into the heavy silence. Jerking her head around, she avoided his eyes. He knew too much. It was none of his business.

  "Weren't you, Amanda?" This time the question was soft, almost sympathetic.

  She shrugged, still looking into the fire. "What does it matter now? He's gone."

  He leaned forward, poking the fire distractedly. "He was me...if that's grammatical. But I guess even if it's not, he was still me. I was he." The silence drew out, then suddenly he said, "Tell me about him."

  "Daniel—" she began.

  "No, I mean it. I want to know about him. You seem to think he was someone special. I can tell by the way your eyes go soft when you remember him."

  She swung her head around to look at him. He had said practically the same thing about the way Lena looked at Kyle. She was almost sure he hadn't made the connection, but it didn't matter. She had, and it was enough for her to swallow her hesitation.

  "Danny was very special," she said, confirming his earlier statement. "Danny found miracles. There are not many people who can do that. He also accepted people as they are. Not many people do that, either. He never judged or resented; he just accepted." She swallowed heavily. "All my life I've been positive that if anyone saw the real me, the one that is sometimes black, sometimes gray, but never spotless white, they would be put off. So I've always pretended—not a big pretense. Just enough to make people think I'm nicer and kinder and smarter than I really am. Danny knew that sometimes I'm thoughtless and sometimes I'm selfish, and he accepted it, He did more than that," she whispered huskily. "He loved me, faults and all."

  The silence drew out as she remained caught up in her memories of those days at Greenleigh. She was startled out of her reverie by a knock at the door.

  Jerking her head up, she glanced at Daniel. Although his expression didn't show it, she knew he was just as shocked as she was. It seemed wrong somehow that another person existed. Until now, theirs had been an exclusive world.

  When she opened the door she found Dr. Beidermyer on the porch. "The results came in this morning," he said without preamble. "I'm afraid they don't tell us much." He handed Daniel a sheet of paper. "The lab broke down the chemical composition, but they couldn't say what they do when combined. If it's any help, there is no known mind or mood-altering drug listed there."

  After glancing at the paper, Daniel handed it to Amanda. She stared at it for a moment, but it was imcomprehensible to her. She might as well have been trying to read the Rosetta stone.

  "You didn't have to make a special trip," Daniel was saying. "We were going to come into town tomorrow."

  "No special trip," the doctor assured him. "A friend of mine lives about seven miles past here. I come up about once a month, and Jerry and I see how outrageous we can act. Being this far from civilization does something to you, doesn't it?"

  Amanda watched Daniel as he talked casually with the older man. She had never been able to read his emotions in his face, and now was no exception. But she knew how she was feeling. They had pinned all their hopes on this analysis only to find it told them absolutely nothing about his condition.

  As the doctor turned to leave, he said, "I did have another idea, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to pursue this thing."

  Daniel was instantly alert. "I'd like to find out any information if possible," he said casually.

  The doctor nodded. "Well, I have a friend in Tucson—he's in research with a pharmaceutical company—and he's as close to a genius as I've ever met. He's got one of those freak minds that remember everything. If this stuff is anything more than a random mixture of ingredients, he'll know about it. Of course, it may take a while," he warned.

  "I can wait," Daniel said, and Amanda heard the determination in his voice.

  When the door closed behind Dr. Beidermyer, she turned to him. "Daniel," she said, hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

  He shrugged. "We're not any worse off than we were yesterday. We still know nothing."

  She didn't understand. He actually seemed undisturbed by the news. As she stared in bewilderment, he reached out and touched her face. "It will be all right, Amanda. Don't worry so much."

  At his touch, she felt a wave of sensuality so strong that it made her dizzy. A lightning-quick pang of disloyalty struck her. Then she reminded herself that Danny was gone. He was like time. He didn't exist outside her memory of Mm. At last she accepted w
hat she had fought for days. Danny was a sweet dream. Daniel was hard, strong reality.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, Daniel, look!"

  Daniel leaned against an oak tree and watched Amanda. As she knelt to touch a small white flower he felt desire shoot through his body.

  It was a reaction that he should have gotten used to by now because it happened every time he looked at her—no, it happened every time he thought of her. Since, in his thoughts, he was free to do what he wanted with her, the nights had become pure, unadulterated hell.

  He couldn't ever remember wanting a woman the way he wanted Amanda. He was becoming obsessed by her. The need to touch her at times pushed every other thought out of his mind. Other than the months he had spent in Greenleigh, most of his past had come back to him, but even the desperation he had once felt to recover those eleven years diminished beside his hunger for this small woman.

  Sometimes he wondered how she could spend every minute of every day with him and not feel the intensity of his desire. To him, it shouted; it screamed. But she acted as though he were some damn eunuch.

  Only that morning, as he had leaned over her to wake her, she had looked up at him with beautiful, sleep-glazed eyes and murmured, "Danny."

  Daniel had wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He had wanted to scream obscenities at her. At times, although he didn't like to admit it even to himself, he found himself wishing he could be Danny, that poor unfinished creature that she cared about so much.

  He had to stop thinking about her, he told himself as a frown twisted Ms lips. He had enough problems without adding her to the list. He had learned a long time ago that the only thing in life he could count on was himself. That hadn't changed.

  As he watched, Amanda raised her face to the sun, closing her eyes as the rays warmed her, and Daniel felt every resolution and every ounce of logic disappear. She looked like an ancient pagan goddess giving silent tribute to the sun god... and at that moment he knew that no amount of silent arguing, no amount of reason, was going to make him stop desiring her.

  His lips curved upward in a grim smile. No man is above acting like a fool, he told himself ruefully.

  "Are you going to stand there all day?" she called to him over her shoulder. "I thought you were going to gather some kindling."

  When he didn't answer immediately, she stood, her eyes concerned. "Are you feeling all right?"

  He pushed away from the tree and said, "You weren't supposed to ask that question again, remember?" When she bit her lip, he said lightly, "I'm fine, and if I have to say it again, I will be genuinely, thoroughly ill. Then you can fuss over me to your heart's content. But until then—stifle it."

  She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling as she went back to picking flowers. He had, after the first couple of days, refused to talk to her about the illness he was supposed to have. He wasn't willing to deal in vague possibilities, only in realities. Reality was what he could see for himself. Other than the loss of the six months he had spent in Greenleigh, he was fine. No, he would deal with this mysterious illness when and if it presented itself to him.

  "You look like you're contemplating the great mysteries of life," Amanda said as she walked toward him carrying an armful of flowers.

  "How did you guess?" he said, smiling. "Deep, profound mysteries... like why you never see really beautiful women on commercials about constipation or hemorrhoids."

  She laughed. "That's profound all right. But the answer's not so tough. Beautiful women are never constipated and never get hemorrhoids. Or dandruff or the heartbreak of psoriasis... and I can't believe we're having this conversation. Are you having television-withdrawal symptoms?"

  "Never in this lifetime," he said dryly. "But now that I think about it, a movie wouldn't be bad. I wonder what's showing in Allendale."

  She glanced at him skeptically. "Didn't you see the sign last time we were in town? It apparently takes a while for movies to get to this part of Nevada. I think last week it was Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein."

  "Abbot and Costello are vastly underrated," he said, frowning at her in disapproval. "Abbot had a genius for timing, while Costello was the perfect homme d'esprit."

  "Who?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  "Who's on first," he said, deadpan.

  While the movie they saw that afternoon was not quite as old as the one Amanda had mentioned, it was one that had already been on television in LA.

  Nevertheless, Amanda enjoyed every minute of it. For once, Daniel seemed almost carefree. They ate popcorn dripping with butter and slightly stale chocolate-covered raisins and spoke in whispers, ripping apart the movie's plot, its actors and its corny dialogue. They smothered laughter behind butter-coated fingers.

  As they drove away from the theater, she was struck by the gleam in his eyes. Suddenly he turned into the parking lot of the grocery store.

  He turned to her, resting his arm on the steering wheel. "I've just had the most brilliant idea."

  She laughed, shaking her head ruefully. "Do you expect me to be impressed? The last brilliant idea you had was the prewar epic we've just seen. Need I say more? I think the record speaks for itself."

  "Steaks," he said, making the word sound important. "We've been living out of cans for days now because of that contrary refrigerator. Why don't we pick up a couple of steaks and cook them on the grill?"

  She stared at him for a moment. "Okay, I'll admit it—I'm impressed. Let's go."

  In the small store, they not only bought the best steaks in the house and the trimmings to go with them, they also picked up a carton of the biggest, most beautiful strawberries she had ever seen.

  "I can't believe you got whipped cream," she said as they placed the groceries in the back seat. "That's almost sacrilegious. No sugar, no cream—I don't think I'll even wash them before I eat them."

  "God, you're drooling," he said in disgust. "Remind me to stay out of your way when—"

  Daniel broke off abruptly when they heard her name being called. Glancing around, Amanda saw Dr. Beidermyer stepping from his car.

  "Amanda, Mr. Phillips," he said when he reached them. "You've saved me a trip."

  "Did you hear from you friend in Tucson?" Amanda asked, excitement entering her voice.

  The older man shook his head. "No, there's no word yet. I was just wondering about your nephew," he explained, glancing at Daniel in inquiry. "1 don't suppose he lives around here, does he?"

  "My nephew? No, I'm afraid not," Daniel said, frowning. "Why did you want to see him?"

  "Is the boy one of those science nuts?" The doctor took off his glasses and began wiping them with a blue handkerchief. "Kids nowadays amaze me. They build computers and atomic bombs in their basements with mail-order science kits. They'll be fiddling around with DNA before you know it, if they haven't started already."

  "What was it you wanted to know about my nephew?" Daniel prompted.

  "I don't know if Jed told you, Amanda," he said, turning to her, "but I play around at research. I've got a small lab behind the house. Nothing elaborate—a microscope, some test tubes and white rats"

  "No—no, he didn't tell me." Her eyes were alert as she stared at the older man.

  "Well," he continued, "I only sent a small sample to Tucson, and so I decided while we were waiting that I might as well test what I had left on my rats.. .just to see what would happen, you understand."

  "What happened?" Amanda and Daniel spoke at the same time.

  "It was the damnedest thing," he said, shaking his head. "I'm thinking seriously about writing a paper on it. This is going to interest a lot of people."

  "Dr. Beidermyer, what happened to the rats?" Amanda asked, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice.

  "What... oh, yes. They started to regress immediately," he said. "It was the most interesting thing I've ever witnessed. Mature rats tried to suckle a female as though they were newborn." He scratched his head, his eyes thoughtful as he continued. "The period of regres
sion lasts only as long as the drug is administered. I can't tell you exactly what happens, but apparently the drug isolates and numbs the memory portion of the brain, so that adult knowledge is subdued, leaving the juvenile identity in control."

  As he spoke, he seemed unaware of the shock waves rippling through the two people beside him. "I haven't tried it yet," he said, "but I assume that increasing the dosage would numb all memory."

  "What would happen then?" Amanda asked, the words a barely audible whisper.

  "The regression would be complete. The rat would go back to the fetal stage."

  "Which means?" Daniel, asked, his voice harsh, his face rigid.

  "It means that the heart and lungs would eventually stop functioning—death."

  Chapter Fourteen

  I've talked to a friend in Las Vegas," Dr. Beidermeyer continued, unaware of the bomb he had dropped, "and we're going to try to duplicate the stuff. But I sure would like to talk to your nephew to get the exact ratio of ingredients." He laughed. "I can't wait to see what brainwave patterns the rats give off during their regression.''

  Amanda stared at Daniel, forgetting Dr. Beidermeyer completely. Her head was swimming. It was too much to take in all at once.

  As quickly as they could, they made accuses for themselves and Daniel's nonexistent nephew. The drive back to the cabin was interminable. Amanda could almost feel the hostility in Daniel, and she understood it. He had been deliberately drugged. Ted Sutherland had kept him a prisoner, and he identified her with Greenleigh.

  Suddenly she gasped. He turned to look at her. "They died," she whispered in horror. "All the people taking the drug died." She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. "And I was going to give it to you. If you hadn't destroyed it—" She was shaking all over. "If—"

  He pulled the car over and took her by the shoulders, giving her a hard shake. "Stop it, Amanda. It doesn't do any good to blame yourself."

  "Why not?" she said, laughing hysterically. "You are."

  He didn't deny it. He didn't respond at all. He simply pulled the car back into the narrow road and continued driving.