In This Life (16 page)

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

“Does this mean we’re not having sex?”

I made a frustrated noise and went to the bathroom for a quick break, feeling agitated and still aroused.

“So you had some extra sleep,” David called out. “What’s the big deal? You obviously needed it.”

I came back and climbed into bed. “No, David. I
didn’t
need it.”

David considered me for a few long seconds. “Do you really want to do this right here? Right now?”

Not really.

“That’s what I thought,” David said, and it wasn’t until he pulled me back on top of him that I realized I’d said it out loud.

Then his cell phone rang.

The interruption was met with David’s loud, infuriated curse. He inspected caller ID, cursed again and mouthed, “It’s my CO. I have to take this.”

In less than twenty seconds the call was complete. In less than five I’d found out that David had a meeting at seven at headquarters, and in less than three that he intended to finish what he’d started between us.

“I thought you were off for a couple of weeks,” I said.

“This is just for today.”

“And you have to be at PROs in an hour.”

“We’ll make this quick,” David said, throwing his phone to the floor. “Quicker if you talk dirty.”

“I could do that. My first client isn’t until eight.”

David went still.

I sat up, confused and overheated. “What’s wrong?”

David’s expression changed into one that many women knew well. One that said he’d done something wrong and that he expected to pay hell for it. He hitched himself up on his elbows and said, “Paul talked to Stuart Hanley at Amrose and canceled your appointments for the rest of the week because you’re still sick.”

“He talked to Amrose’s director and did what?” I pushed off David, snagged the sheet and covered myself. The phone call may have put a temporary freeze on the mood but this latest news made it as good as dead and buried. “And you let him?”

David’s silence confirmed my suspicions.

“I can’t believe this.” I started pacing the room. “You actually made these decisions without my input. About
my
clients.
My
workday.
My
life.” I rounded on him and stared him down. “What were you thinking?”

David sat up, his expression one of complete calm. A defense mechanism, I realized, to avoid a full-scale, all-out argument. “I was thinking about your safety.”

I couldn’t think straight. My blood pressure pounded in my head and it took considerable effort not to call David every name I could think of. And then I would have followed up with Paul.

I gritted my teeth, working hard to keep my rising temper under control. “I am
not
a child, David. I am perfectly capable of making these decisions on my own.”

David got out of bed, not once breaking eye contact. “Someone threatened you yesterday. You heard voices that no one else could hear. You’re still having episodes — ”

“Memories — ”

“And
I
am perfectly capable of making decisions that involve your safety.”

“You don’t own me, David.”

David threw his arms up in frustration. “This has nothing to do with owning anyone!”

“And I could have made this decision on my own!”

David’s voice grew louder and deeper. “Someone is out there,” he said, jabbing a thumb at the windows, “watching you and preparing to attack you or worse. When are you going to get it through your head that this isn’t a game?”

“And when are you going to get it through your head that you can’t think for me?”

“Since when is it a crime for me to care about my wife’s well-being?”

We were both stunned into silence, not because of how loud he’d bellowed but because he’d unintentionally breached the agreement we made years ago regarding marriage.

Now that the slip-up had been made, there was no ignoring it.

“I’m not going to apologize for that,” he said, and his voice trembled under the weight of long-concealed discontent.

And I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“So much for going back to what we used to be,” he said, grabbing his clothes from the floor. “I’m heading out to work. Do what you want. You’re going to do it anyway.”

He disappeared inside his closet to get dressed. As a psychologist, I knew our immature behavior was going to make our relationship even more strained. As David’s lover, I feared it could damage our relationship in a way that might not be fixable.

I drew in a ragged breath, annoyed and angry that I’d let the situation get so out of control. I was simply tired of feeling like everyone controlled my life except me.

David stalked out of the closet in jeans and a T-shirt and running shoes, snagged his keys and wallet off the dresser and headed downstairs without a word. A pang of regret lanced through my heart as I heard the garage door rattle open and shut.

“What’s happened to us?” I asked the empty room.

When I finally decided stewing about the fight would do me no good, I decided to shower and dress, but when I was done getting ready I had no idea what to do with the rest of the day. Or the week, for that matter. I thought about talking with Stuart Hanley and changing his mind, but once Stuart made a decision there wasn’t much someone could do to change it. Then I had another idea.

I set the house alarm, got in my Jeep and stopped at a Starbucks on the way to Amrose. When I got to the office building and stepped out of the air-conditioned car and into the parking lot, the heat and humidity slammed into me like an oppressive wall. I wandered through the parking lot and through the treed area that encircled it, disregarding the sweat that trickled down my back and dampened the brown linen dress I wore. I thought I’d seen Mrs. Reynolds the day before but I still wasn’t sure, so I had no idea what to look for or what clues would jump out at me. It didn’t matter that Nat had already been here yesterday, doing the same thing. I needed to see for myself, and to finally take control.

As I made a second pass around the parking lot, the rich, spiced scent that I now knew so well drifted in. I stopped and inhaled, and had a sudden, vague memory of a man with sand colored eyes.

“Doctor Morgan?”

Galen was standing next to me.

My first reaction was to run but something about him told me my fears were unwarranted. I remained where I stood, wary and watchful.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I should ask the same of you.”

The breathtaking scent blossomed and intensified.

I cleared my throat and said, “I work here.”

Galen slid his hands into his pockets. “Not for the rest of the week, I believe.”

I pulled away, my wariness kicking up a few notches.

“I have the answers you need, Doctor Morgan.”

I swayed where I stood, spellbound by that stirring, intoxicating aroma. “You understand what I’ve been experiencing?”

“Yes.”

“And you can help me?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated, and my cell phone rang. I had a distant thought that I should answer it, but I was tangled up in an image of the two of us. Together.

The phone rang again.

“Take it,” Galen said. “It may be important.”

But I couldn’t move.

Galen tugged the phone out of my bag and handed it over. “It might be a client.”

It was Logan.

“I need your help, Doctor Morgan. Right away.”

He sounded winded and anxious and my head cleared when I realized something was wrong. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m outside your house and I need to see you.” There was a shuffling sound, broken by another urgent plea. “Please come now. I think they’re watching me.”

Before I could ask anything else, Logan disconnected the call.

“Our conversation will have to wait,” I said to Galen. “Sorry.”

I jumped into my Jeep, sped home and raced up the driveway, jamming to a stop just outside the garage. I leapt out and scanned the front lawn. No Logan. I ran around the side of the house, checked the backyard and wound up on the front lawn again. Still no Logan. Sweating and bewildered, I ran to the curb and checked up and down the street.

Nothing.

My mind raced with too many unanswered questions and lots of doubts. I ran up the front steps and unlocked the door, desperate for air conditioning and ready to make phone calls, and as soon as I crossed the threshold another unbidden image assaulted me. One of a jeweled sword arcing down to kill me.

I bent over and clenched my stomach over a sharp stab of pain. A pair of hands grabbed me.

“Don’t fight me,” Galen said. “This will go much more easily if you do what I say.”

He closed the door and locked us both inside.

“Who are you?”

I backpedaled through the foyer toward the den. Galen followed.

“You already know,” he said.

The back of my legs bumped into one of the leather chairs and I held up a hand. “Stay there.”

Galen stopped. “I can help you,” he said. “You’re fighting what has been happening to you and that will only hurt you in the long run.”

“Stop that,” I said.

He held out his hands. “There is no need to be afraid. I won’t come any closer.”

“It’s not that. It’s your voice. It … ” It coursed through my veins like heady, red wine. “It does things to me.”

Heat radiated between us and the first luscious beads of sweat broke out on my neck and chest. Galen’s eyes dropped to the bare skin revealed by my low cut dress and stayed there.

Run
, a little voice inside insisted.

Galen’s eyes lifted and found mine once more, and the spark of something dark and daring lit inside them.

“We know each other,” I said.

“
Knew
each other.”

“How?” I stepped around the sofa, needing physical distance from this man as much as emotional balance. “I see these memories of you and me, but I don’t understand them. They’ve been coming too quickly for me to make sense of them, but I know you see them, too. Please tell me what’s happening.”

“I can guide you but I cannot tell you, Doctor Morgan. You must find most of the answers for yourself.”

“Then why did you follow me here?”

“I had my suspicions about who you were when I saw you at the bar on Friday night,” he said, “but knew only for certain when we met for my evaluation.”

I nodded even though I didn’t understand, the rhythmic cadence of his voice caressing my skin and stirring long-forgotten memories of the two of us, entangled in each other.

“What do you remember?” he asked.

I told him, and it was very little. “I see snippets of you and me. And I’ve seen David, too. But none of us are who we are now.”

A sad smile emerged on Galen’s lips. “No. Those times are gone.”

“I want to know about those times, Galen. No one believes what I’m seeing and I want to know. I need to know.” Otherwise, I was afraid I’d lose my mind.

Galen gestured to the sofa. “May I sit?”

“Were we lovers once?”

“For a very brief time, yes.”

Galen sat and looked at me, and again I was drawn into those unusual eyes that held too many secrets and too few answers. I felt the pull of him, of what we were, and found myself moving closer to him as if my legs had no will of their own. I sat down but couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“Shemei,” he whispered. The name rushed through me like a breeze over sand dunes, and his fingers swept my face and settled on my chin. “You have her cleft chin. And her heart-shaped birthmark on your shoulder.” I pulled away, feeling naked and vulnerable and wondering if I had made a mistake by letting this go on. “You have her eyes, and her skin. Her voice and her scent. It is truly remarkable how very similar you are.” He dropped his hand and whispered the name again. “Shemei.”

He made it sound beautiful, like the wisp of a warm, summer breeze.

“Tell me about her,” I said.

Galen took his time to think about what he was going to say. “You were Pharaoh’s sister. And Bakari was his General. I served under Bakari for many military campaigns.”

“I remember that. He went away very often.” Sometimes months and months at a time.

And though it was Galen who was with me now, I sensed Bakari’s presence nearby. Saw the devilish grin and playful green eyes that found him too much trouble as a child, and heard the deep, commanding voice that spurred his men into action as an adult.

“Bakari was a very powerful and successful soldier, devoted to his Pharaoh and to the throne. He was one of Pharaoh’s primary confidants.” Galen paused again, longer this time. “He was also hopelessly in love with you.”

I sensed a subtle shift in Galen’s mood that I didn’t understand, but when I searched his expression to find the reason behind his jealousy, he pressed his lips together and turned away.

“I have so few memories of Bakari right now.” I got up and went to the slider and watched a breeze ripple over the pool. An image of the Nile, glittering like thousands of diamonds beneath brilliant starlight, surfaced. Bakari and I were alone by the Nile in our special place, drinking stolen wine and finding each other. “I see some of our childhood together and moments from when we became lovers. And I remember a servant. But other than that, I see only you, Galen. Mostly you. And nothing more.” I turned and faced him. “Why?”

“Your regression is probably incomplete. You must give it time.”

“But you know what I lived through. I can see it on your face.”

“I did not live your life. What I see is only through my eyes and my experiences, not yours. For me to tell you about how you lived your life would be unfair.”

“You can tell me something. Things we did together, or said to each other. Experiences that we shared.”

“I could.”

“You said you could help me, Galen, and now you’re shutting down on me. If anything is unfair, that’s it.”

I grabbed his arm to demand the truth, but when my skin touched his other memories exploded in my mind.

Garlands made of lilies and lotus hung from the tiled ceilings and wrapped around each sculpted column. Flower petals of blue and green and yellow adorned each table as well as the reed mats beside them. Servant girls tied floral collars of chamomile and green leaf on guests, and empty wine jugs spilled over with blue and white lotus. Women poured cinnamon-spiced wine into cups and others served trays filled with dried fish, figs and dates, thick loaves of bread, and seasoned beef. I stood in a crowded room where people cheered as my brother and his generals distributed weapons to the soldiers that marched through. People ate and drank, women danced and shook sistrums, and music played long into a night that promised future success and everlasting glory.