For that matter, what would her husband say?
She shot David a guarded look.
Not much, judging by his stony profile, folded arms and cold silence. From the looks of things, he wasn’t any more pleased they were trapped inside this overstuffed living room on wheels than she was.
What a terrible marriage theirs must have been. Her throat constricted. Dr. Corbett had made a point of telling her that you didn’t lose your intellect when you lost your memory. Well, you didn’t lose your instincts, either, and every instinct she possessed told her that the marriage of Joanna and David Adams had not been a storybook love affair.
Was he like this with everyone, or only with her? He never seemed to smile, to laugh, to show affection.
Maybe that was why what had happened last night had been such a shock. That outburst of raw desire was the last thing she’d expected. Had it been a rarity or was that the way it had been between them before the accident, polite tolerance interrupted by moments of rage that ended with her clinging to David’s shoulders, almost pleading for him to take her, while the world spun out from beneath her feet?
She’d hardly slept last night. Even after she’d rung for the nurse and asked for a sleeping pill, she’d lain staring into the darkness, trying to imagine what would have happened if that passionate, incredible kiss hadn’t been interrupted.
She liked to think she’d have regained her senses, pulled out of David’s arms and slapped him silly.
But a sly whisper inside her head said that maybe she wouldn’t have, that maybe, instead, they’d have ended up on the bed and to hell with the fact that the man kissing her was an absolute stranger.
Eventually, she’d tumbled into exhausted sleep only to dream about David stripping away her robe and nightgown, kissing her breasts and her belly and then taking her right there, on that antiseptically white hospital bed with her legs wrapped around his waist and her head thrown back and her sobs of pleasure filling the room.
A flush rose into Joanna’s cheeks.
Which only proved how little dreams had to do with reality. David had apologized for his behaviour and she’d accepted the apology, but if he so much as touched her again, she’d—she’d—
“What’s the matter?”
She turned and looked at him. He was frowning, though that wasn’t surprising. His face had been set in a scowl all morning.
“Nothing,” she said brightly.
“I thought I heard you whimper.”
“Whimper? Me?” She laughed, or hoped she did. “No, I didn’t…well, maybe I did. I have a, ah, a bit of a headache.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” He leaned forward and opened the paneled bar that was built into the Bentley. “Corbett gave you some pills, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but I don’t need them.”
“Dammit, must you argue with me about everything?”
“I don’t argue about every thing… do I?”
David looked at her. She didn’t. Actually, she never had. It was just this mood he was in this morning.
He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I guess I’m just feeling irritable today. Look, it can’t hurt to take a couple of whatever he gave you, can it?”
“No, I suppose not.”
He smiled, a first for the day that she could recall, poured her a tumbler of iced Perrier and handed it to her.
“Here. Swallow them down with this.”
Joanna shook two tablets out of the vial and did as he’d asked.
“There,” she said politely. “Are you happy now?”
It was the wrong thing to say. His brow furrowed instantly and his mouth took on that narrowed look she was coming to recognize and dislike.
“Since when did worrying about what makes me happy ever convince you to do anything?”
The words were out before he could call them back. Damn, he thought, what was the matter with him? A couple of hours ago, he’d been congratulating himself on his decision to play the role of supportive husband. Now, with at least half an hour’s drive time to go, he was close to blowing the whole thing.
And whose fault was that? He’d walked into Joanna’s room this morning and she’d looked at him as if she expected him to turn into a monster.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he’d said gruffly, and she’d made a gesture that made it clear that what had happened had no importance at all…but she’d jumped like a scared cat when he’d tried to help her into the back of the car and just a couple of minutes ago, after sitting like a marble statue for the past hour, he’d caught her shooting him the kind of nervous look he’d always figured people reserved for vicious dogs.
Oh, hell, he thought, and turned toward her.
“Listen,” he said, “about what happened last night…”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, neither do I. I just want to assure you it won’t happen again.”
“No,” she said. Her eyes met his. “It won’t.”
“We’ve both been under a lot of pressure. The accident, your loss of memory…”
“What about before the accident?”
“What do you mean?”
Joanna hesitated. “I get the feeling that we…that we didn’t have a very happy marriage.”
It was his turn to hesitate now, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
“It was a marriage,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to quantify it.”
Joanna nodded. What he meant was, no, they hadn’t been happy. It wasn’t a surprise. Her husband didn’t like her very much and she…well, she didn’t know him enough to like him or dislike him, but it was hard to imagine she could ever have been in love with a man like this.
“Did Dr. Corbett tell you not to discuss our relationship with me? Whether it was good or not, I mean?”
“No,” he said, this time with all honesty. “I didn’t discuss our marriage with Corbett. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. I just thought…” She sighed and tugged at the hem of her skirt. Not that there was any reason to. The hem fell well below her knees. “I just thought he might have asked you questions about—about us.”
“I wouldn’t have answered them,” David said bluntly. “Corbett’s a neurosurgeon, not a shrink.”
“I know. I guess I’ve just got psychiatry on the brain this morning, considering where we’re going.”
“Bright Meadows? But I told you, it’s a rehab center.”
“Oh, I know that. I just can’t get this weird picture out of my head. I don’t know where it comes from but I keep seeing a flight of steps leading up to an old mansion with a nurse standing on top of the steps. She’s wearing a white uniform and a cape, and she has—I know it’s silly, but she has a mustache and buck teeth and a hump on her back.”
David burst out laughing. “Cloris Leachman!”
“Who?”
“An actress. What you’re remembering is a scene from an old movie with Mel Brooks called…I think it was High Anxiety. He played a shrink and she played—give me a minute—she played evil Nurse Diesel.”
Joanna laughed. “Evil Nurse Diesel?”
“Uh-huh. We found the movie playing on cable late one night, not long after we met. We both said we didn’t like Mel Brooks’ stuff, slapstick comedy, but we watched for a few minutes and we got hooked. After a while, we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t stop.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. We watched right to the end, and then I phoned around until I found an all-night place to order pizza and you popped a bottle of wine into the freezer to chill and then…” And then I told you that I loved you and asked you to be my wife.
“And then?”
David shrugged. “And then, we decided we’d give Mel Brooks’ movies another chance.” He cleared his throat. “It’s got to be a good sign, that you remembered a movie.”
She nodded. “A snippet of a movie, at least.”
“Anyway, there’s nothing to worr
y about.” He reached out and patted her hand. “Believe me, you’re not going to find anything like that waiting for you at Bright Meadows.”
* * *
She didn’t.
There was no nurse with a mustache and too many teeth waiting at the top of the steps. There were no dreary corridors or spaced-out patients wandering the grounds.
Instead, there was an air of almost manic cheer about the place. The receptionist smiled, the admitting nurse bubbled, the attendant who led them to a private, sun-drenched room beamed with goodwill.
“I just know you’re going to enjoy your stay with us, Mrs. Adams,” the girl said.
She sounds as if she’s welcoming me to a hotel, Joanna thought. But this isn’t a hotel, it’s a hospital, even if nobody calls it that, and I’m not sick. I just can’t remember anything…
No. She couldn’t think about that or the terror of it would rise up and she’d scream.
And she couldn’t do that. She’d kept the fear under control until now, she hadn’t let anyone see the panic that woke her in the night, heart pounding and pillow soaked with sweat.
Joanna turned toward the window and forced herself to take a deep, deep breath.
“Joanna?” David looked at the straight, proud back. A few strands of dark hair had come loose; they hung down against his wife’s neck. He knew Joanna would fix it if she knew, that she’d never tolerate such imperfection. Despite the straightness of her spine, the severity of her suit, the tumble of curls lent her a vulnerability. He thought of how she’d once been…of how she’d once seemed.
All right, he knew that what she’d seemed had been a lie, that she wasn’t the sweet, loving wife he’d wanted, but even so, she was in a tough spot now. It couldn’t be easy, losing your memory.
He crossed the room silently, put his hands on her shoulders. He felt her jump beneath his touch and when he turned her gently toward him and she looked up at him, he even thought he saw her mouth tremble.
“Joanna,” he said, his voice softening, “look, if you don’t like this place, I’m sure there are others that—”
“This is fine,” she said briskly.