The Second Mrs. Adams

She looked up. She could hear the water thundering in the bathroom as David came toward her. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his blue shirt; his forearms were muscled and tanned and dusted with dark hair.

“Joanna? I said—”

“I heard you.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Running a bath doesn’t take any great effort.”

“I meant…thank you for what you’ve done. For bringing me…home.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said briskly. “You’ve every right to be here. Now, come on. Get out of those wet things and into a hot tub.”

“David…” She reached out and put her hand lightly on his arm. “I know this isn’t easy for either one of us. But I…I’m sure that my memory will come back soon.”

His muscles tightened under her fingers. “Are you saying things seem familiar?”

“No,” she admitted, “not yet. But they will. They have to,” she said, with just a hint of desperation. “My memory will come back and then you and I can go back to living our normal lives.”

David’s eyes, as deep and as green as a winter sea, met hers.

“Our normal lives,” he said.

“Yes.” She gave a forced little laugh. “Whatever that may mean.”

A muscle knotted in his jaw. For just a moment, she was certain he was going to say something, something she didn’t think she wanted to hear, but the seconds ticked away and then he nodded.

“Of course,” he said politely. “Now go on, take your bath. I’ll tell Mrs. Timmons to make you a light supper and serve you here, on a tray.”

“Alone, you mean?”

“I think it’s best, don’t you? I have some work to do and this way you can just get out of the tub, put on a robe and relax.”

Joanna felt the sharp prick of tears behind her eyes, and felt immeasurably silly.

She was home, which was what she’d wanted, and her husband had shown nothing but kindness and consideration. He’d carried her up the stairs, drawn her bath and now he was offering her the chance to end the day quietly…

“Joanna?”

She looked up and smiled brightly. “That’s very thoughtful of you, David. Yes, please, if you don’t mind I think I’d like to have my supper alone. I’m…I’m awfully tired. You understand.”

“Of course.” He walked to the door and looked back at her, his hand on the knob. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“In the morning,” she said, “sure.”

She held her bright smile until the door had shut after him. Then she walked slowly into the bathroom, sat down on the edge of the oversize circular tub and shut off the taps. The air was steamy, almost thick, and all at once the tears she’d fought against moments ago flooded her eyes and streamed down her face.

David was everything a woman could hope for.

But he wanted nothing to do with her. He didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. She was not welcome in this house or in his life.

And she had absolutely no idea why.

CHAPTER FIVE

JOANNA had told David she’d see him the next morning, but he was gone by the time she came down the stairs at eight o’clock.

That was fine. The last thing she wanted to do was try and make small talk on her first day in this unfamiliar place that seemed more like a museum than a home.

She had breakfast under the cool, watchful eye of Mrs. Timmons, who seemed to offer silent disapproval of a meal made up of half a grapefruit and a cup of black coffee. Then she wandered from room to room, waiting for something to strike a familiar chord.

Nothing did.

At noon, as she was sitting in solitary splendor at a dining room table designed to seat twelve, David telephoned.

Hollister brought her the telephone.

How was she feeling? David asked politely. Did she need anything?

Joanna looked around her. A crown and a scepter, she thought, suppressing a rise of hysterical laughter.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, very calmly, “I’m fine.”

The conversation took no more than a minute. When it ended, Hollister gave a little bow and took the phone away. Mrs. Timmons marched in after him, bearing a huge lobster salad.

“You used to like this,” she said in a crisp, no-nonsense voice, “or aren’t I supposed to mention that kind of stuff?”

The frank, unsmiling face and blunt words were as out of place in this elegant setting as they were welcome. Joanna smiled.

“Mention whatever you wish,” she said, “otherwise I’m liable to end up biting into cardboard, just to find out if it was ever to my taste.”

The housekeeper almost smiled. “Fine,” she said, and clomped out.

After lunch, Joanna went outside and sat in the pocket garden behind the house. It was a sad, forlorn little place with one scrawny maple doing its best to survive.

Just like me, she thought, and she shuddered and went back inside and up to her room. She napped, woke up and read a magazine, then wandered through the rooms some more.

Mrs. Timmons was in the kitchen, slicing vegetables at the sink.

“Anything I can do to help?” Joanna asked from the doorway.

The housekeeper looked at her as if she were suffering not just from amnesia but from insanity.

“No, thank you, madam,” she said, and went back to her work.

At six, David phoned again, with apologies. He’d tried everything to get out of a sudden meeting but it was impossible. Would Joanna

mind having dinner without him?

She bit her lip to keep from saying that she’d already had dinner without him last night; what would be the difficulty in doing it again?

“Of course not,” she said briskly. “We’ll have dessert and coffee together, when you get home.”

But he didn’t get home until almost ten, and by then she was in bed.

She heard his footsteps first on the stairs, then coming down the hall. They stopped just outside her closed door and her heart stopped, too.

Joanna held her breath, imagining her husband’s hand on the knob, imagining the door slowly opening…

The footsteps moved on. Further down the hall, a door opened, then softly shut and she fell back against the pillows in relief.

It was relief she felt, wasn’t it?

Of course it was. What else could it be?

* * *

He was waiting for her in the dining room when she came down the next morning.

“Good morning,” he said. “Sorry about last night.”

“No problem,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I needed an early night anyway. I’m not operating on all burners yet.”

David nodded. His hair was damp, as if he’d just finished showering, and suddenly she remembered what he’d said about running in the park early each morning.

“Were you out running?”

“Yes. I didn’t wake you, did I? Going out so early, I mean.”

“No, no, I slept like a log. I was only going to say…”

“What?”

What, indeed? They’d already talked about running together and he’d made it crystal clear that he hadn’t wanted her company in the past. Why on earth would he want it now?

“I was only going to say that…that I’ll have to get out for a walk, considering we’re so near the park.”

“Next week.”

“What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, David, I just didn’t believe it. Or am I in the habit of asking your permission before I do something?”

His mouth twisted. “I only meant that you should wait until you’re stronger.”

“I am not ill,” she said, her eyes flashing. “I’ve told you, I’m not—”