Books by Maggie Shayne (28 page)

A young woman ran toward him. Even as she barked questions, though, he couldn’t free his gaze from Annie’s. She seemed to be searching him, inside as well as out, and her face registered nothing less than sheer adoration. Her lips kept parting as if she wanted to speak, then closing again, her words aborted. She shook her head several times as if to clear it. Blinked, rubbed her eyes, and stared some more.

“Annie! Annie, listen to me,” the other woman snapped, her voice loud and firm but calm as she vied for Annie’s attention. “Are you in any pain? Were you hit? Annie?”

The woman with the short blond hair kept after her until Annie broke eye contact with him and turned her head. Her voice a harsh whisper, she rasped, “Rebecca,
look.
Look at him.”

“Rebecca” frowned, shot him a cursory glance, and focused on Annie once more.

“Yeah, I see him. So what?” She inclined her head toward a gurney, and Ren bent to lower Annie onto it.

“It’s Richard,”
Annie croaked, her gaze darting back and forth between him and Rebecca. “Don’t you recognize him? It’s
him.”

The woman gave her head a shake, glanced at him once more, and then, slowly, her entire countenance altered. She looked frightened as her sharp eyes met Annie’s. And her voice changed. Became softer, as if she were speaking to a child.

“Take it easy, Annie. Come on, look again. This guy doesn’t look anything like Richard.” She knelt beside the gurney, as if to see better, moving Annie’s hair out of the way, probing her scalp. “Did you hit your head? Is that it?”

“The car didn’t hit her,” Ren explained, hoping to help in some way. “And when I knocked her out of the way, she landed on top of me. I don’t think she hit her head.”

“It is him!” Annie sat up on the gurney while Rebecca tried to urge her to lie back down. “Tell her, Richard. Tell her it’s you!” Her eyes were wild, and he worried that maybe she was suffering some kind emotional trauma—perhaps from the shock of this near miss. The other rescue workers had stopped what they were doing now, and turned to stare at her, pity and a sad sort of unsurprised concern etched on their faces. And when Ren looked beyond them, he saw others. A crowd of them, adults and teenagers alike, gathering on the school’s front lawn. Craning their necks. Whispering. Several were shaking their heads sadly. “Poor Annie,” someone whispered.

“She’s only confused,” Ren attempted. “My name is—”

“Nelson,” Annie said, her voice louder now, more insistent. “Richard Nelson. And I’m
not
confused.” With a strength that surprised him, she shoved off the restraining hands and got to her feet. “What’s the matter with you people? Don’t you think I know my own husband?”

“Husband?” he echoed, jolted.

But before he could say more, Annie was in-his arms again. Clinging to his neck, shaking violently. Sobs racked her small frame, and tears dampened his shirt. She kept saying that name over and over again, and the sound of it brought a burning to his own eyes, a tightness to the center of his chest that couldn’t be explained.

His arms went around her, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to protect her from any more pain. She stiffened when the one called Rebecca jabbed a needle into her arm. And then she slowly went limp.

“Don’t leave me again,” she whispered, just before her eyes closed. “God, Richard, I need you so much…”

He held her tighter to keep her from falling. Richard, he thought. The name felt odd. Not new. Not unfamiliar or strange. More like an old favorite shoe that hadn’t been worn in a long time—so long, it no longer fit. And he wondered if he’d ever been this man she called Richard. Maybe a lifetime ago. A lifetime he’d since forgotten. And if that were the case, then Sir George had lied to him.

He’d never have believed that possible.

“It’s a very mild sedative,” Rebecca explained when he searched her face. “She needs to calm down or she’ll send herself into an early labor.”

Ren nodded, easing Annie onto the gurney again. She seemed so tiny, so in need of protection. And he couldn’t help but wonder how any of what he was beginning to suspect could be true. It seemed impossible to believe that he—or any man—could forget a woman like her.

As Rebecca hovered over Annie, Ren stepped aside. His gaze shot once more to the hill behind them and then slid to the smashed car. A man was wriggling out from beneath it.

“Brake fluid all leaked out, Mrs. Pike. There’s a hole in the line. Lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

Ren frowned and his gaze was drawn up the hill once more. A man stood there, on the roadside in front of the odd-shaped house. Tall and slender, he stared down at them, and Ren could feel the touch of those black eyes even from here. Their gazes met, and the thin man smiled very slowly.

Warmth. Calm. Peace.

As Annie slowly came out of sedation, she felt as if she were enveloped in a huge, fluffy cloud of well-being. And as her mind cleared, she focused on that feeling, trying to seek out its source.

It radiated through her every cell, but as she concentrated, she realized where it began. A trail of comfort led down her arm to the warm pressure surrounding her hand. And another path to the source of this feeling of peace seemed anchored at her forehead, where a soft hand was stroking her hair in a gentle rhythm. And more of the serenity was found in the soft clarity of a strong young voice—a girl’s voice— singing a lilting song that sounded like a lullaby.

Annie opened her eyes, then closed them and opened them again. Sara Dawson sat in a chair beside the bed. The girl held Annie’s hand and stroked her face. She stopped singing, bent close, and pressed a soft kiss to Annie’s cheek. Her smile was gentle; her eyes, knowing and serene. Always so serene, those beautiful eyes of hers.

“You’re awake.”

Annie nodded. “I guess so.” She looked past the girl, taking in the whitewashed walls, smelling the sterile, all-too-familiar scent of hospital antiseptic. For a second, panic seeped into her veins like ice water, and her hands pressed to her belly.

“It’s Community Memorial,” Sara said. “And you’re fine. The baby, too.” She didn’t say those things the way most people would, as if they were well wishes or positive thoughts. She said them with authority. “I thought you’d feel better knowing.”

Annie narrowed her eyes, studying the smooth young face, searching for answers. More and more it seemed to her that this was no ordinary girl. “Sara, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I thought you might need me.” She squeezed Annie’s hand before letting it go. “You’re upset. You read my note, didn’t you?”

Annie nodded. “But I didn’t understand what it meant. Sara, you know nothing about what I’m going through right now. You couldn’t.”

“But I do.”

Again Annie fell silent. She finally cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. “Tell me, then. What do you know about me or… or Richard?”

Sara tilted her head. “I know you’re not insane. You’re the sanest person you know. That’s what you’re always saying, isn’t it?”

Annie gaped. The girl was so new in town. How could Sara know Annie had been driven very close to the point of questioning her own sanity?

But wait. Sara wasn’t registered in school. And Annie had never seen her speak in front of anyone but her. She remembered how she’d thought the other day that her students ignored Sara, as if she wasn’t there.

What if they weren’t ignoring her? What if she really
wasn’t
there? What if she’s some kind of… of..
.
what? Guardian angel?

Ridiculous!

“You have to trust yourself, Annie. Trust your mind, your senses. Believe what you see with your own eyes.”

“If you knew what I’d been seeing lately, you wouldn’t say that.” Annie let her head sink deeper into the pillows. “Who are you, really, Sara?” And she eyed the girl’s haunting eyes.
“What
are you?”

Sara only smiled. “What I’m not is more important,” she said. “And I am not a figment of your imagination. Look at things, Annie. Analyze them, but don’t doubt they exist. There are more things in the world than you know. More things than anyone knows.“

Annie sat up a little, frowning. “What do you mean by that?”

“You must stop questioning yourself. That’s the first thing. You can’t win this battle unless you find the strength inside you, Annie. It’s true, what Richard was always telling you. You
are
a strong woman. That’s part of the reason you were chosen—”

“Chosen?” Annie shook her head rapidly, then paused, eyes widening. “How could you know Richard used to say that?”

“Find the strength inside you, Annie. Find the woman you were before Richard went away. She’s still there. I know it. Your baby needs that old Annie, not this frightened, uncertain woman you’re becoming. You—”

“Who are you?” Annie frowned at the lovely girl and shook her head in confusion. “God, Sara, who
are
you,
really?”

Sara bit her lip, rising from the chair with a quick glance toward the door. “I need a glass of water.”

And without another word, the girl walked into the small bathroom attached to the hospital room. She pushed the door a little but didn’t close it all the way, and then Annie heard the water running.

God, what was this all about? Who was Sara? Annie knew, deep in her gut, that she wasn’t just an ordinary girl playing head games with a teacher. Sara wasn’t cruel. She was kind—good, through and through. Annie felt it in her touch, saw it in her eyes. The girl truly seemed to want to help.

And she
had
helped. Oddly enough, the only times Annie had felt relaxed and calm lately had been when Sara was nearby. She felt closer to the girl than she should, given their brief acquaintance.

The water was still running, the door still stood partly opened, yet Sara hadn’t come out.

Annie slipped from the bed and got to her feet. She had to grip the back of a chair for support when a wave of dizziness washed over her, aftereffect of whatever drug they’d given her. She fought it and won. Then she started toward the bathroom.

Someone else was coming in. She heard the door from the hall open, heard two solid steps.

“Annie?”

She knew that voice. But she couldn’t turn around and face him. Not yet. She stepped up to the bathroom door and pushed it open.

The faucet spewed clear frothy water into the basin. A mirror over the sink showed Annie the reflection of a small room. A small,
empty
room. Sara wasn’t there.

Annie shook her head slowly, sinking to her knees, forgetting for a moment to hold on to the wall for support. “My God, it’s true,” she whispered. “She’s not… not real. Or…”

Strong hands clasped her shoulders, drawing her backward until she leaned against jean-clad legs. “It’s all right, Annie. I promise you, it’s going to be all right.”

His hands ran down her arms, then clasped her waist and lifted her gently, easily to her feet. “Come on, we can’t have the doctors seeing you like this.”

She bit her lip and turned slowly. The big hands on her waist loosened to let her turn, but never let go. They still rested there when she faced him.

“Who
are
you?” One trembling hand lifted to touch the face she still dreamed about every single night. “My God, are you real? Are you a ghost?”

“I’m real. I’m here to help you, Annie.”

“Help me do what? Go completely insane?” Her words came out as whispers as her fingers touched a lock of his hair, rubbing its silken texture between them. “Is it you, Richard?”

The man closed his eyes as if her words caused him immeasurable pain. “I’m not your husband. My name is Ren.”

“Ren,” she repeated. “Richard Elliot Nelson. A man who could be my husband’s twin, whose name is an acronym of his initials. Am I supposed to believe this?”

“You must believe it.”

She had to force her hands to her sides, to stop from touching him, feeling his hair, as if to assure herself he was really here. “They never found the body,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Were you hurt, Richard? Did you lose your memory and wander away? Is that it?”

With his two large hands he cupped her head, holding her gently but still making her look right into those eyes. “Listen to me. Your husband is dead. I’m not him. My name is Ren, and I’m here to help you.”

She shook her head slowly, closed her eyes. “I didn’t need any help. I was doing just fine on my own… until you showed up.”

“You are perfectly sane,” he told her. “Everything you’re experiencing now has an explanation, Annie. That’s the first thing you have to accept.”

Annie tried to swallow the lump in her throat and, failing, went ahead and spoke around it. The result was a voice that sounded as if it were being filtered through gravel. “Of course I’m sane,” she whispered. “I’m… the sanest person I know.” He nodded, apparently approving of the statement. Annie couldn’t take her eyes off him. If she was sane, then he was a liar. He
was
Richard. She was standing here looking at him, and his denying it was so ridiculous, it was almost laughable. “I guess it’s the rest of the town that’s gone crazy,” she went on. “When Leslie saw you, and Rebecca, they said your hair was dark. They said you—”

“I know. Annie, it’s best not dwell on that right now. These doctors in this place, they need to see that you are fine. If you keep insisting I’m your dead husband, they’ll have you committed to an institution. I won’t be able to protect you there.”

Her eyes flew wider. “Protect me?”

Voices came from just beyond the door. The handle turned. “I told them I’m your husband’s cousin,” he said quickly. “Annie, it’s important you listen to me. You must tell them the same. For the sake of your baby.”

“My baby?”

He smoothed one hand down over her hair. “Trust me, Annie.”

The door opened and a doctor entered. She wore round bifocals with tortoiseshell frames, and her hair was carrot orange.

Annie looked at the woman, then at the man who claimed he wasn’t her husband. Then she turned slowly, walked to the window, braced her hands on the ledge, and stared, unseeingly, outside.

“How are you feeling, Annie?”

“Fine.” She wasn’t, though.
Trust me,
he’d told her. How could she trust him?

How could she not?

“I’m Dr. Maxwell, staff psychiatrist.”

Surprise, surprise. They sent me a shrink. Well, who’d have guessed
?

“You’re fine, physically, Annie,” the woman went on. “I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you before we let you go home. It’s routine, you understand. You were a little disoriented right after the accident. Which might be perfectly normal. But I have to be sure, given…”

“Given all the stress I’ve been under,” Annie filled in. “Fragile-looking females like me aren’t supposed to be able to handle so much stress, after all. Especially pregnant ones.”

She turned away from the window and looked at Ren standing there, still wearing his long coat. He smiled. It was a familiar smile, one that crushed her heart to dust. She didn’t know what the hell was going on. She didn’t know if he was her husband’s twin, if he was lying, or if he simply didn’t know who he was. She only knew she had to find out.

Dr. Maxwell nodded. “I’m afraid that’s entirely true,” she said. “Thank goodness we fragile females surprise them sometimes. We’re tougher than we look, aren’t we Annie?“

“Tougher than they can even imagine,” Annie said.

The doctor nodded, seeming reassured. “You certainly look better than when they brought you in.”

Annie shrugged.

Dr. Maxwell pulled off her glasses, using them to point at Ren… or Richard, or whoever he was. “Annie, do you know this man?”

He met Annie’s gaze, giving her an almost imperceptible nod.

“Yes,” she said. She concealed her turmoil beneath a cloak of calm. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. After all, she’d been doing it for quite some time, now, hadn’t she? Hiding her grief. Pretending she was getting over losing him just the way people said she should. She cleared her throat. “This is my husband’s cousin, Ren. I… I didn’t recognize him at first. It’s been a long time.”

Dr. Maxwell nodded, sliding the glasses onto her nose, lifting the top sheet from the clipboard she carried. “Would you describe him to me?”

Annie blinked. Great, a trick question. She looked at him again, stared right at his long, golden blond hair, and took a shot in the dark, based on Leslie’s words at the store. “He’s been called an ebony-haired, black-eyed pagan god.”

Dr. Maxwell lifted her head and her eyebrows at the same time. She smiled when her gaze met Annie’s, and she looked a whole lot less serious than before. “Colorful, but accurate. So do you still think he looks like your late husband?”

Annie closed her eyes.
Lie. Lie through your teeth if that’s what it takes to get out of here.
She cleared her throat. “It’s more in the bone structure than the coloring.”

“Annie always was the only one who could see the resemblance between us,” the ghost, or whatever he was, added. And he sent Annie a warm, approving look.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re all right, Annie. You can go home just as soon as we get your release forms together.” Dr. Maxwell tucked her clipboard to her side and slipped her glasses into her pocket as she strolled out of the room.

Annie stared at the man, fighting with everything in her to trust what she was seeing, not to begin questioning herself, her judgment, her own senses. It was difficult when everyone else seemed to be seeing some totally different person. “Your hair is not black,” she whispered.

“No. No, it’s not.”

She nearly sighed in relief that he had confirmed it. “Then how… why… ?”

“It’s better not to ask.”

“I’m asking anyway.”

“There are things I can’t tell you.” He closed his eyes, lifting a hand to touch her shoulder. “Let me take you home, Annie. And I’ll explain as much as I can.”

He wouldn’t, though. She knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t explain what was inexplicable.

Ren couldn’t explain it to her because he didn’t understand it himself. He took her home. She said she was tired and didn’t want to talk to him anymore tonight, and he could see she was on the brink of exhaustion.

He walked her through the big house, and a flash of familiarity rushed through him in nearly every room. As he ran his hands along the hardwood banister, he saw, for just an instant, an image of his hands rubbing it with rough-textured sandpaper. His own hands applying new varnish to restore the gleam to the smooth wood. And beside them, a smaller pair of hands. Hands that looked like Annie’s. He held her arm as he took her up the stairs, and unerringly he found her bedroom.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to protest his presence with any vigor. “You shouldn’t be here” was about the extent of it.

“I’ll go. As soon as you fall asleep.”