The room seemed to shift around her, then it steadied. ‘I was adopted.’ Yes. Of course.
Treena said defensively, ‘It’s no secret. You’ve always known.’
Capri gripped the receiver in her hand, her mind busy rearranging this knowledge of herself. ‘What about Venetia?’
Treena’s reply sounded almost sulky. ‘Your father and I had been married ten years and it looked like we’d never have a baby, so we adopted you. A few years later Venetia came along. It didn’t mean we didn’t still love you. But she was premature and she needed a lot of care even after we brought her home.’
‘I was jealous of her?’
‘All your life you’ve been jealous of her,’ Treena wailed. ‘I guess you felt rejected.’
‘I’m sure I’m fond of my sister, really,’ Capri assured
her. Venetia had been a bridesmaid at her wedding,
hadn’t she? ‘Do give her my love.’
* * *
When they were walking on the beach after dinner, she asked Rolfe, ‘Did you know I was an adopted child?’
Rolfe glanced at her. ‘Yes.’ He bent and picked up a crooked stick lying on the sand, then tossed it at the waves rolling in to shore before turning to her again. ‘Your mother told you?’
‘She mentioned it today.’
‘Does it bother you?’ His eyes were dark and watchful.
‘No. It was a surprise at first, but then my life is full of surprises…’ She gave a wry little smile. ‘She says I was terribly jealous of my sister. Apparently I never seemed to believe that I was as much loved as Venetia.’
‘Your mother cares a great deal about you. She was almost hysterical when I phoned her after the accident.’
Capri smiled faintly. ‘She does tend to overreact.’
She wondered if Venetia had inherited her mother’s temperament, while her own presumably owed more to her biological parents. ‘Do you know who my natural parents are?’ she asked. ‘Did I know?’
‘No.’ His answer seemed abrupt. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve enough to contend with for now.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked on.
Capri fell into step alongside. ‘I talked to Sarah today and she’s agreed to be my doctor. It seems more sensible than having some man over an hour’s drive away. I need to get my records for her. Do you have my present GP’s address or phone number?’
‘I’ll find them for you. Sarah seems a good choice.’
‘I thought I might make an appointment soon and take that letter they gave me at the hospital.’
He shot her a glance, his mouth momentarily compressing. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I don’t need you to hold my hand.’
‘I don’t mind. You may need me.’
Capri shook her head. She had become so reliant on him, almost shamefully so. Someday she had to start doing things for herself—by herself.
He searched her face as though he might press the issue, but before he could say more she said firmly, ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine on my own, Rolfe.’
‘You might ask her,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘if it’s normal to experience a personality change after a concussion.’
‘Personality change?’
He gave her a rather odd smile. ‘I’m not complaining, you understand, but…sometimes I can’t believe you’re the same woman I married.’
‘Doesn’t everyone change over time? I was rather young when we married.’
‘Yes, you were…in years,’ he acknowledged. ‘I should have realised it.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘You had such an aura of sophistication,’ he said frankly. ‘When we first met I thought you were older. After I found out your age I felt a bit guilty, but you laughed and called me sweet and old-fashioned. You’d lived and worked in a world where I gather people grow up fast or go under.’
‘Did you ask me to give up modelling when we got married?’
‘That was your decision. I think you rather fancied being a kept woman for a while.’ He smiled. ‘In fact you were delightfully frank about enjoying that luxury.’
‘Was I very good at modelling?’
‘You weren’t in the supermodel class. It was pretty much hand-to-mouth, with no guarantee of a steady income, although when you did get work the money was good. I guess you enjoyed the pace and the parties, and the occasional lucky break when you were handsomely paid for a few days’ work. But it’s very competitive and I don’t think you had many regrets about giving it up.’
‘Am I lazy, Rolfe?’
‘I never meant to suggest that. You didn’t have the fierce will to forge your way to the top that I suspect drives a lot of people in that type of business. I think you were ready to move on, and not quite sure what you wanted to do with your life.’
‘How serious was I about designing?’
He shrugged. ‘You were dead keen at first. But the market is hard to break into. It was disheartening.’
And he’d said she didn’t turn out work consistently as the market expected. ‘I suppose I needed something to do with my time.’ Gabriel had said Rolfe was wedded to his work, implying that she’d been neglected. ‘You were very involved with your business, I gather.’ Too involved to spend as much time with his wife as she might have hoped, perhaps.
‘You never minded enjoying the fruits of my labour,’ he said dryly.
Capri sent him a straight look. ‘Is this an old argument between us? Did I accuse you of deserting me for your work?’
His pained smile indicated she’d hit the mark. ‘You were probably right. I was accustomed to throwing all my energies into the business. There’s always some new problem to be solved—the need to maintain an edge over competitors, keep up with new technologies, fend off possible hostile takeovers. Maybe I never did give enough time to my marriage.’ He threw her an apologetic look, and his voice lowered. ‘When I saw you in the hospital, looking so bruised and fragile, believe me my conscience was working overtime. I should have just taken the time to be with you, before the accident made it imperative. I should have been with you on that train.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up over it,’ Capri advised. ‘You did what you believed was right. And I could have waited, as you asked. It wouldn’t have killed me.’ Rushing away without him had nearly killed her, she reflected. If he’d flown to Australia with her, would she have been on that train at all?
‘I have been trying to delegate more,’ Rolfe said. ‘Recently I hired a personal assistant.’
‘I don’t know much about your business.’
‘It’s highly technical. You’ve never been interested.’
‘Haven’t I?’ She’d loved him, and yet not been at all curious about what he did every day?
‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘a lot of it’s commercially sensitive. I can’t tell you much.’
Later that evening when she said she was tired and got up to leave the lounge, Rolfe rose too and kissed her cheek as he often did, but tonight his mouth wandered to hers and stayed for a long, sweet, breathtaking moment.
Then he stepped back, his eyelids sweeping down as his chest rose and then fell. ‘You’d better get off to bed,’ he told her. ‘Unless you’d like to come to mine?’
‘I…not yet.’ The words came out before she’d thought about them. She looked at him with trepidation, silently begging his understanding, patience. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel ready until she could remember the former life that had slipped from her mind.
His mouth twisted. ‘That’s what I thought you’d say. There’s no hurry, Capri. I’ll see you in the morning.’
* * *
Capn’s medical records arrived and Sarah’s receptionist phoned to make an appointment for her.
When she told Rolfe he said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want me there?’
‘No, really. I’m quite comfortable with Sarah, and you don’t need to coddle me.’ She hoped her refusal didn’t make him feel rejected. ‘And I need to le
arn not to lean on you so much.’
His frown was almost sceptical. ‘Lean on me as much as you need to,’ he invited, a smile replacing the frown. ‘If you change your mind, I’ll make sure I’m available that day.’
Capri shook her head. ‘There’s no need, honestly.’
When she kept the appointment Sarah asked some questions, read the letter Capri handed over and said, ‘The first step is to get you to another specialist. There’ll be a wait, I’m afraid, and he may want to order more tests before deciding where to go from there.’
When Capri told Rolfe he just nodded. ‘Fine,’ he said easily. ‘But when you see this specialist, I’m definitely coming along.’
This time she didn’t argue with him.
Living in the same house, there were inevitable intimacies. Capri knew Rolfe liked to use a particular soap in the shower, and what colour his toothbrush was. She even knew what kind of underwear he wore, and that he never bothered with a pyjama top. His suits were expensive and he had several, but at home he preferred jeans and T-shirts, or comfortable cotton trousers with casual shirts.
He swam several times a week even though the water was still cool, tempting only the hardiest swimmers. Neat and ordered in his office, he scattered clothing, books and papers that he was working on about his bedroom, but tidied them up on the mornings when Hallie was due to arrive.
His taste in music sometimes coincided with hers, but he preferred the classics when he was tired. And she sensed he’d had a particularly stressful day at the factory when he took off his tie before he’d even entered the house, walking in with it in one hand, his briefcase swinging from the other.
He liked his coffee very hot, and his toast almost burnt, with plenty of butter and a thick layer of marmalade. And he scraped the butter in the dish from the top until it was concave, while she always took a sliver from the end. He appreciated good wines, but after a hard day’s work was just as likely to pour himself a cold beer.
He would turn on the television to watch a documentary but hardly ever for drama or comedy. Yet he had a strong, if understated, sense of humour and frequently made her laugh.
And he liked to watch her, following her movements with veiled attention, making her conscious of her body and how she used it, and when she looked at him he’d smile, his eyes dark and gleaming. Occasionally he looked at her strangely, as if he found her deeply puzzling.
One evening when Capri was finishing a pastel drawing of wind-bent pingao grass growing by a driftwood log, he asked to see her expanding portfolio of nature pictures. ‘You should get someone to look at these,’ he suggested. ‘I think you’ve discovered a talent you may not have known you had.’
Once she ventured to join him as he swam. It was late afternoon and the sea looked balmy, silver lights glinting from the sun. She saw Rolfe heading down to the water, and on impulse searched the drawers in her room until she found a thin electric-blue one-piece swimsuit. Other people had been swimming that afternoon as she sketched on the shore, but although the days were lengthening, summer hadn’t really set in yet and the few times over the past weeks when she’d dipped her toes in, the water had been too cold to tempt her.
Braving the initial chill, she struck out from the shore with determination.
Rolfe saw her and waited, treading water as she breast-stroked out to him.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘This is a nice surprise.’
‘I’m beginning to think it’s not such a good idea. Why do you do it?’
‘It’s good exercise,’ he said. ‘And it beats cold showers.’
‘Brr,’ she gasped, moving her arms and legs to stay afloat and ward off the chill. ‘Who needs cold showers?’
I have, lately,’ Rolfe told her grimly.
Despite the cold water she felt her body grow warm all over, and ducked her head, going into a shallow dive to come up some distance away. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and rolled onto her back, floating. The sky was pale and almost clear, only a few ragged clouds hanging in the air.
‘If you want to warm up you need to keep moving,’ Rolfe said in her ear.
She hadn’t realised he was so close. She turned over, and was slapped in the face by an incoming breaker.
Disoriented, she floundered, starting to sink before strong hands gripped her waist and Rolfe said, ‘It’s okay. Just relax.’
She gulped, tasting acrid salt, and coughed. ‘I swallowed some.’ She clutched at the wet skin of his shoulders, reassuringly solid and warm beneath the surface coolness.
His hands slipped about her, steadying her. ‘You’re okay,’ he repeated.
‘Thanks. I’m all right now.’
He didn’t let her go, his legs moving against hers, buoying her up as his hand moved to her hips, bringing her closer. She felt his arousal against her thigh, and heat coursed through her, negating the chill of the water.
‘Rolfe…?’ she said uncertainly.
Another wave slapped over them, making her gasp.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes.’ Breathless, but all right.
He let her go then, but stayed nearby all the time, and when she said she was going in to shore he followed her.
He picked up their towels and wrapped one about her, hurrying her up the sand and inside the house. ‘Have a warm shower,’ he said. ‘You’re going blue.’
‘What about you?’ Her skin felt cold but tingly, invigorated. She took the towel from her shoulders and rubbed at her hair to stop it dripping on the carpet.
His gaze slid over her, and she realised that the form-fitting Lycra wasn’t hiding a thing. ‘Is that an invitation?’
‘No!’ Instinctively she backed, flushing all over.
He laughed, a little harshly. ‘I’ll use the other bathroom,’ he said, and turned away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN the specialist appointment came round, Rolfe went along with her, and stayed while she was subjected to more tests. And the following week he travelled to Auckland with her again to hear the results.
‘No physical abnormalities have been detected,’ the doctor told them, her voice reassuringly calm. ‘My best theory is that the concussion simply masked the real problem.’
‘Real problem?’ Rolfe was seated beside Capri, holding her hand. His grip tightened fractionally and he leaned forward, frowning.
‘There’s no sign of a physical cause. A psychiatrist may be able to help.’ The specialist looked at Capri and then Rolfe as if anticipating an objection. But she had none, and Rolfe just sent her a searching look and said nothing. The doctor turned to her desktop computer. ‘There may be a wait of several weeks.’
‘Are you okay?’ Rolfe asked her when they had returned to his car. His fingers on the key, he turned to survey her.
‘A bit wrung out,’ she admitted.
‘We’d better get you something to eat,’ he suggested. She’d been too anxious that morning to have anything but coffee and a half slice of toast.
The place he took her to was quiet and upmarket and obviously expensive. Rolfe ordered wine with their meal, and although he drank sparingly, the glass that he urged on her helped to relax her taut nerves.
He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, lingering over coffee after most of the lunchtime customers had left, while their waiter lurked discreetly in a corner of the room. ‘How do you feel about seeing a psychiatrist?’ he asked her.
Capri shrugged. ‘I have a problem. Apparently a psychiatrist is the appropriate specialist. It doesn’t bother you, does it?’
‘Not at all. Do you want to go and browse some shops while we’re here in Auckland? I know how much you love shopping.’
They went to Parnell, which Rolfe said was her favourite retail haunt. In a small woodware shop she took a fancy to a smooth, honey-coloured bowl with a lovely grain, made from recycled kauri timber, and Rolfe bought it for her.
Then they walked on to a fashion boutique where he stood patiently by while she insp
ected racks of clothing, but she left without purchasing anything. ‘I’ve so many clothes already,’ she explained. ‘I don’t know when I ever wore them all.’
‘You managed.’ He glanced at her. ‘Does any of this seem familiar?’
‘Only vaguely.’ She looked around them. ‘I wish…’
‘Don’t.’ His finger eased the frown between her brows. ‘Just let it ride for now. I shouldn’t have raised the subject.’ He slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her to his side.
They spent more time than they’d meant to browsing an art gallery and arguing the merits of the work on display. When they emerged the rush hour was in full roar, and Rolfe suggested, ‘We could eat in the city before we go home.’
‘We’ve already had one restaurant meal today. Could we get some takeaways back in Atianui?’
He looked at her curiously. ‘If you like. I vote we have a drink or coffee and wait for the traffic to clear a bit before we get on our way, though.’
They found a pleasant garden bar, and while Capri had two glasses of dry white wine that he ordered for her, Rolfe drank one glass of beer and then switched to coffee. A bowl of mixed nuts had been set before them, and Capri began picking at them, idly popping them into her mouth.
‘Now, that’s typical.’ Rolfe grinned.
Capri paused, a curved white nut in her hand.
‘Picking out the cashews and leaving the rest.’
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t realised she’d been doing that. ‘Is it? They’re my favourites.’ But they were too expensive to have often…
‘I know,’ Rolfe said, dispelling the stray thought.
A musician set up his keyboard in a corner of the bar, and between the music and the talk all around there wasn’t much chance for conversation. After a while Rolfe looked at his watch. ‘We should be able to get out of the city without too much hassle now.’
Capri had trouble pulling her seat belt from its housing when they returned to the car, and Rolfe leaned across to do it for her, his breath fanning her hair away from her temples.
Wife to a Stranger Page 12
