The Night Remembers (27 page)

As she was writing it, she heard the front door open. Apparently, she thought, the decision had been taken out of her hands. She wondered if that were good or bad. "I'm in here, Adam," she called, resigned to meeting him head-on.

There was no answer.

Daphne came out of the den, her carryall over one shoulder, the note in her other hand. "I was just writing you a note," she explained. "I know it's terrible timing but Elaine called and I have to fly out to New..." Her voice trailed off as she saw who it was. "Oh, hello, Marcia," she said coolly, inclining her head toward the younger woman. They had silently agreed to a truce of sorts. Not a friendly one by any means but at least there were no outright hostilities. "I'm afraid Adam's not home right now. He had an emergency at the hospital."

"Yes, I know
exactly
what kind of emergency Adam had. It's all over the hospital that he had to go down to the police station and bail out his ex-wife."

"Oh, dear," Daphne said, sincerely sorry and sincerely distressed. Above almost anything else in life, Adam valued his professional image. Quite rightly, too, she thought, since he had worked so hard to attain it. He wouldn't look kindly on anyone who smudged it for him. Of course, what she had done should have had no bearing on Adam. But would he look at it that way? It was easy to see that Marcia didn't. Like sister, like brother, she thought.

"Is that all you can say? 'Oh, dear'?" Adam's sister scoffed. "Not that I expected anything better of you after what Adam's told me." She advanced on Daphne like a lioness all set to defend her cub, although she made no overt move to inflict bodily harm.

It was the look in her eyes, Daphne decided. If looks could kill...

"I
told
him you'd be nothing but trouble. I told him that you hadn't changed. That you still had the same crazy, radical friends and believed in the same stupid causes. I told him you were no better doctor's wife material now than you were the first time around. And you've proved it." A particularly nasty, rather triumphant smile curved her pink lips.
"Now
maybe he'll listen to me."

"Maybe," Daphne agreed softly, her voice as level and calm as she could make it as she digested the rather disturbing fact that Adam had obviously discussed their relationship with his viper of a sister. Old tight-lipped Adam, who wouldn't even discuss his feelings with her, had discussed them with his sister. How dare he. Their relationship, however it turned out, was private. Silently, she added another bone to the pile she had to pick with Dr. Adam Forrest when she got back from New York.

"Maybe?" Marcia's voice rose to a near shriek. With a visible effort, she controlled it. "Oh, he'll listen all right. He can't help but listen with the evidence right in front of his eyes."

"Maybe," Daphne said again. She brushed past Marcia and went into the kitchen to tape her note to the refrigerator door, crumpling her earlier one—the one that had told him she had gone out with Sunny—in her hand. "That's something we'll have to discuss when I get back." She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised as she gave Marcia a deliberately arch look. "Adam and I, that is." She paused consideringly. "Although, if what you say is true, I'm sure Adam will let you know what we decide."

A horn sounded outside, three sharp blasts piercing the air.

Daphne silently blessed the efficiency of the San Francisco taxi companies. "That will be my cab," she said, heading for the front door with barely concealed relief. She paused with her hand on the knob. "Feel free to make yourself at home until Adam gets back. I'm sure he won't be long. And I'm sure you'll have plenty to say to him," she finished sweetly, and left.

Chapter 14

"Mrs. Granger." Elaine's young assistant hurried into the workroom, her expression agitated, her manner flustered. "Mrs. Granger, there's a man in the lobby. He insists on seeing you and he... he's
drunk!"

"I am not drunk," corrected Adam, coming into the workroom behind the young woman. "I have been drinking," he said. "Two brandies, to be precise. The second of which the flight attendant spilled all over my jacket."

Daphne just stared. Never, ever, had she seen Adam in this condition. Maybe he wasn't drunk, she thought, but he certainly looked it. His golden hair was falling every which way, his cheeks and chin were heavy with the stubble of a day's growth, and she would have sworn under oath that he was wearing the same clothes he had put on yesterday morning for their canceled picnic. They looked as if he had slept in them.

"Adam, what are you doing here?" She rose to her feet behind her littered worktable, truly alarmed. Adam all undone like this was a frightening sight. She couldn't imagine what could have happened to make him lose his cool like this. "What's wrong?"

"You're what's wrong," he said, coming toward her with purposeful strides. He maneuvered around the worktable with ease, not even glancing at the half-clad model who stood draped in little more than a length of lavender silk.

Daphne shrank back from the murderous look in his eyes. "Me?" she squeaked, casting about in her mind for what she might have done to put that expression in his face. Suddenly, Marcia's words came back with great clarity.
It's all over the hospital that he had to go down to the police station and bail out his ex-wife.
No, she thought, surely he couldn't be this mad about that. Not mad enough to come all the way to New York without even taking the time to change his clothes. Oh, God, she thought, it must have made the papers! No wonder he looked mad enough to kill.

"Yes, you." He rounded the worktable and grabbed her by the upper arms, completely oblivious to the four grinning women and one puzzled Chinese man who stood gaping at them. "You've run out on me for the last time. Is that clear, Daffy?" He shook her for emphasis. "The very last time! Do you understand me?"

"No, Adam, I don't. I—"

"The last time, Daffy," he repeated, his voice low and more than a little threatening. "I won't let you do this to me again."

"Do
what
to you again?"

"Leave me!"
He practically shouted the words into her startled face.

"Leave you? I haven't left you, Adam. I had a meeting with Mr. Chan that couldn't be put off. I was coming right back."

But Adam wasn't listening. "You
left
me," he went on angrily.
"Again.
Without so much as a goodbye. Without even a goddamn note to tell me where you'd gone."

"But I left you a note. I—"

"Without a note!" he roared, his voice overpowering hers. "I came home from the hospital determined to have it out with you and what do I find? Nothing, that's what I find," he said furiously. "You said you'd still be there when I got back. 'Count on it,' you said. But you weren't there." He shook his head as if he still found that fact hard to grasp.

"At first, I thought you'd gone out for a while. Taken a walk to cool off. Your clothes were still there. The cats hadn't been fed. I was sure you wouldn't run off without taking care of the cats first. But you didn't come back." His voice broke slightly and he let go of her, turning away as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "I called Sunny but she hadn't heard from you... so I began to think all sorts of things. That you'd been mugged. Raped. God knows what." He turned back to her, blue eyes blazing like an avenging angel's. "I had to find out from Marcia that you'd gone back to New York. You were too much of a coward to tell me yourself."

"Marcia?" Daphne said, stunned. "What does Marcia have to do with—" And then it hit her. Obviously Marcia had destroyed her note. "That bitch!"

Adam grabbed her by the shoulders again. "You leave my sister out of this, do you hear me?" He shook her again to make sure that she did. "This is between you and me."

Daphne wrenched herself out of his hands, furious herself now. Neither one of them spared a thought for their fascinated audience. "Don't you yell at me!" she shouted. "Yell at that interfering sister of yours. She's the one who—"

"Oh, that's right, blame it on someone else." Adam threw up his hands. "Don't take responsibility for your own actions."

"My own actions! It's Marcia who—"

"Marcia, hell! It's
you
who ran off at the first sign of trouble,
you
who couldn't face up to what you had done."

"What I had done?" Daphne was red-faced with righteous indignation. "I haven't done anything."

"Huh!" Adam's sneer was eloquent. "Just landed yourself in jail with a bunch if idealistic, knot-headed teenagers."

"It was for a good cause," Daphne defended herself, forgetting in the heat of the moment that good cause though it might be, it wasn't a cause she believed in.

"I don't care how good a cause it is. That's beside the point."

"And just what is the point, Dr. Forrest?" Daphne inquired nastily.

"You want to know what the point is?" Adam advanced until they were standing nose to nose. Daphne refused to back down. "The point is you." He jabbed a forefinger into her chest for emphasis. "Why the hell can't you act like a reasonable adult instead of some flaky, irresponsible hippie who goes running off at the first sign of trouble?"

"I was never a hippie. You just thought so because you were always such a pompous stuffed shirt. Old, dedicated, tight-lipped Adam, who wouldn't know an honest emotion if it walked up and bit him. And I did not run away," she added furiously. "You divorced
me,
remember?" she reminded him angrily, slipping back in time without missing a beat. "And you haven't changed one bit. You still put your precious career ahead of everything else, even—"

"I haven't changed? You're the one who hasn't changed," Adam roared, grabbing her by the shoulders again. "I'm willing to compromise and—"

"Even love," Daphne continued as if Adam hadn't spoken. She was so caught up in airing past grievances that his words didn't even register. "Oh, I should have known it wouldn't work," she cried, slipping back into the present as easily as she had slipped out of it. "I don't know what made me think it would. I guess I just wanted it so much that I didn't think the situation through. But, then, according to you, I never think anything through. I guess that's just another example of—"

Adam clamped her shoulders tighter. "I want it, too!" he shouted, cutting off her words.

"Want what?" Daphne shouted back, busy trying to squirm out of his grasp.

But Adam's hands, his skillful surgeon's hands, were strong as well as gentle and he held her fast. You," he said, shaking her to emphasize his words. "I want you to come back to me."

Daphne went very, very still. "Why?" she demanded, asking the question as if her life depended on it.

"Because you're my wife."

Daphne shook her head stubbornly. "Not anymore."

"Then because I love you, dammit!" he bellowed. He took a deep breath, visibly trying for calm. "And I can't live without you," he said. "I've tried. God knows, I've tried but… I love you, Daphne. I'll always love you."

Daphne's mouth fell open. It wasn't the way she had envisioned him saying he loved her. But he
had
said it. And it was the sweetest, most wonderful thing she had ever heard. Her eyes misted, her throat closing over the words that clamored to be said. Words she had been waiting to say for eleven long years. "Oh, Adam," she whispered instead. "Adam." It was the only word she seemed able to say. It was enough.

Adam slid his hands from her shoulders to her back, enfolding her in a tentative embrace. "And because you love me, too," he said softly, lowering his head. He hesitated a moment before kissing her, his eyes hopeful and just a tiny bit afraid. "Don't you?"

"Oh, Adam." Daphne threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head the rest of the way down to hers. "Oh, Adam, you fool. Yes," she said against his lips, punctuating her words with quick little kisses. "Yes, yes, yes."

His mouth came down on hers then, abruptly stopping the joyous flow of words. He pulled her more firmly to his body, his arms hard around her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. Their lips touched... and parted... and touched again.

"I love you," he whispered into her mouth, his hands firm and warm against her back.