To See The Daises ... First (6 page)

"Yes," she-whispered in affirmation, then fell silent and continued to watch the ceiling.

The silence lengthened, but Sunny was too busy concentrating on the feel of his rough face next to hers and the way his hand rested on her waist. The sound of his voice when it came made her jump skittishly.

"Sunny?"

"Um?" she murmured faintly.

"I think this is one of those sticky situations we were planning to avoid," he whispered back.

She swallowed nervously. "Why, yes . . . now that you mention it." She paused to inhale deeply and finished with a sigh, "I believe it is."

"Yes, well, I guess I'd better leave and let you get some sleep," he said, the reluctance in his voice obvious as he began to slowly untangle their entwined arms, breaking the spell that had so warmly held her in its grip.

With a sigh of regret she watched him rise. Sleep was the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"You've got a lot of strength of character and— and resolve, Ben. I admire that," she said, hoping she sounded admiring and not as disappointed as she felt.

After their somewhat distracted goodnights, she lay awake for quite a while, staring into the shadows, listening to him mutter softly in the next room. But the only word she heard clearly was "Resolve?" followed by abrupt laughter and a string of curses that piqued her imagination by their variety and endurance.

Five

Sunny rose slowly from her cross-legged position on the floor and switched off the television, then stood listening with her head cocked to the growing sound of silence. It had been three hours since Ben had left reluctantly for a meeting with his friend Charlie, and she felt strangely disoriented in his absence. She had tried reading and now television, but neither had held her interest for long. She wanted to discuss what she was learning with Ben.

"Maybe I should start keeping a diary," she said to a rudely disinterested lamp. "What I Learned About Myself Today."

So very much to learn, she thought with a gusty sigh as she wandered restlessly around the room. Not about the woman who lived in her mysterious past, but the person living inside her who didn't need a memory to exist. Was she intelligent? Sensitive? Did she have good taste? No taste?

She wanted to know what she believed in, what was important to her.

It seemed that her unraveling personality was in some way irrevocably tied to Ben's. As she discovered her hidden self, she also discovered his. Only a few minutes ago, when she had examined the paintings on his walls, she had found to her surprise that they weren't reproductions at all. Although they weren't exactly Old Masters, Ben nevertheless had a small fortune hanging on his walls.

She had thought, when he had told her about his past, that he had been like so many other middle-class executives—living beyond, or at least up to, his means. And when his income stopped, he had had to sell everything to settle his debts. But this new development put a different light on the matter. He could have sold a few of his paintings and lived for an extended period of time on the profits. Why hadn't he?

She halted her restless movements to lean against the wall, staring out at the world beyond, the window. That was a question that would never be spoken aloud. He had a right to his privacy. At least now she knew she wasn't the only one avoiding probing questions. They were both running from the past.

The past. Even as the word entered her mind, the face with the pleading eyes swam before her and she grew tense, her mood swinging in a way she didn't like.

In frustration, she turned her back on the view. Who was he, this man who accused her? Why did he have to intrude on her new life, invade her new joy? And, dear Lord, what had she done to him to make him haunt her so unmercifully?

She couldn't dwell on the face. She had made her decision last night after Ben left her, and nothing, not even impatient gray eyes staring at her across the breakfast table, would sway her. The past was dead as far as she was concerned. If it wanted to pursue her, then by God, she would give it a run for its money.

She had to admit, though, to a twinge of guilt at going against Ben's wishes. He had been so kind to her. She hadn't realized how kind until she had awakened that morning to find the clothes he had bought for her tying on a chair beside the bed.

She chuckled in remembered amusement at the way he had tucked the dainty underthings out of t sight beneath the jeans. The staid bank-president image had evidently been having a tussle with the man who knew exactly the right size to choose. Perhaps she should reassess her impression of him. A man as attractive as Ben would naturally have a colorful past as far as women were concerned.

Past, Sunny? Why did she relegate women to Ben's past? As far as she knew, he could be keeping a dozen women happy in the present. Turning back to the window, she refused to think about why that possibility brought a scowl to her face and a sick feeling to the pit of her stomach.

Boredom, she decided suddenly. That's what's wrong with me. A brand new day was happening outside and she was fidgeting around the apartment, rudely keeping it waiting.

She felt her spirits rise and her heartbeat quicken in excitement as she searched for the extra key Ben said he kept on his desk. After locating it hi a scarlet vase, she scribbled a note and left It propped against his typewriter before leaving the apartment

Making a point of waving to the eyes that once again appeared across the hall, she bounced down the first flight of stairs. Gradually, however, her steps slowed as the concealed and steadily dying flavor of the house began to beckon her imagination.

"You're very much like me, aren't you?" she whispered, stopping to caress the banister railing. "Under all those coats of paint and hideously cute wallpaper, you've lost your identity." Only, unlike Sunny, the house was saddened by the loss. It almost seemed to plead to be rediscovered.

"No, that's wrong," she murmured as she considered the analogy. "We're really opposites." The wallpaper that the years had laid on Sunny had been stripped away by her amnesia, leaving her with a simplicity and lack of artifice that she reveled in.

As she walked out the front door of the sad, old house, she made a wish over her shoulder that it might someday find an echo of her own good luck; then with renewed eagerness she turned to face the world before her.

After three blocks of converted mansions, she encountered the beginnings of a business district. The buildings were square and old, melting into each other in a blur of brown and beige, but the people captured her imagination immediately.

She stood staring for a while at her petite figure in the dusty window of a variety store, taking in the slim, new jeans and the scoop-necked yellow T-shirt unconsciously as she consciously watched pedestrians moving behind her.

The variety of nationalities mingling on one small Texas street amazed her. In the space of twenty short minutes she felt she had traveled around the world. And, to her delight, the people were open and friendly, seeming more than happy to pause for a while to answer the questions she posed merely to hear them speak.

The English they spoke was a curious mixture of their country of origin and a lazy Texas drawl. She had to smother a giggle of delight when an elderly Russian man told her he had only come out in the heat of the day to "git" some take-out borscht from a local cafe.

They were beautiful. The world was beautiful, she thought as she turned the corner onto yet another street of small businesses.

It was then that she noticed the red sports car driving slowly down the street she had just left. Strange. She was sure she had seen the same car twice while she was standing in front of the variety store.

The blond man behind the wheel was young and not at all outstanding—except for the curiously tense way he swung his head from side to side as though he were searching irritably for a certain building or street.

As Sunny watched in idle curiosity, his gaze slid in her direction and their eyes locked, his widening in surprise, then narrowing suddenly in what seemed to be anger, hers stunned at the intensity of the emotion contained in his unfamiliar face.

It was the first contact she had had in her new life with a violent emotion and for a moment she stood frozen, a shiver of apprehension vibrating up her spine.

"Don't be silly," she chided, forcing herself to turn away from the stranger's anger. "Why should his irritation at not being able to find an address scare me?"

The logical argument made sense, extremely good sense. So why had her joy in the day dissolved into the humid air? Why, suddenly, did she want to be home, in the safety of familiar surroundings, in the security of Ben's protection?

Walking to the end of the block, she turned north, her steps quickening as she headed in the direction of the apartment. Two more turns and she was once more, In a neighborhood she recognized.

It was only when her heart slowed to its normal rate that she realized how fast it had been pounding in her chest. Surely that was a curious reaction? Had she been so cosseted in her other life that she couldn't face the grimmer side of reality? People lost their tempers every day. It had nothing to do with her. So why had she reacted so acutely?

As she drew near the old house, she greeted its shabby facade with an affectionate smile. Entering, she flew up the three flights of stairs, happy to be inside even though Ben's car was still not In the driveway.

Pulling the key from the pocket of her jeans, she hesitated when she felt the eyes from across the hall staring at her back.

"The riddle of the Sphinx?" she murmured with a grin. Without turning around, she said in a louder voice, "It sure gets lonely around here with no one to talk to. Why don't you come and have a cup of coffee with me?"

She gave a low chuckle when she heard the gasp behind her, then a door slammed shut. Leaving the front door ajar, she passed through the living room and went into the kitchen to prepare the coffee.

Five minutes later, when she reentered the living room, the front door was closed and on the couch sat the most extraordinary child she had ever seen.

She looked to be about twelve, that awkward age when her body couldn't make nip its mind whether to stay in childhood or push on to the unknown territory of womanhood. And to make matters worse, the child was plain. No, plain was too bland. She was singularly unattractive, a fact the scowl on her face only served to emphasize.

Her thick black hair hung in an untidy mass to her shoulders, the blunt fringe across her forehead dipping down and almost hiding her hazel, bespectacled eyes. The brown-rimmed glasses resting on her nose were of a style too mature for her and gave her the look of a disagreeable matron, while the faded blue dress that snugly covered her budding figure was completely wrong for her coloring, its girlish style emphasizing her stocky build.

During Sunny's examination the girl had been giving her back stare for stare. Now she threw her arm to the back of the couch and lifted her chin belligerently.

"Are you from Mars or what?" the girl said, her deep, gruff voice taking Sunny by surprise. "Can't you even talk? I thought you offered me coffee!" Sunny didn't even try to hide her laughter at the stream of words that came from the girl. Here was no shrinking violet, but a pint-size Dillinger if she had ever seen one.

"Can I change that to a soft drink?" she asked, laughing. "It's a little warm for coffee."

"Don't put yourself out on my account," the girl said as she glanced around the room. "But if you're going to get something cold, I'll have a beer."

Sunny swallowed loudly. "I see," she murmured. Don't let yourself be intimidated. She's only a child. "I'm afraid we don't have any beer," she lied, sounding thoroughly intimidated. "Would orange soda do?"

The girl peered at her suspiciously through the thick lenses of her glasses as though trying to detect any hint of patronizing. Shrugging at last, she answered sarcastically, "Well, I guess it will have to, won't it?"

At this point Sunny might have become impatient with her high-handed attitude if she had not seen a flicker, barely detectable, of relief in the girl's eyes. She turned away, hiding her smile.

"What's your name?" the girl threw at her retreating back.

"Sunny," she replied, pulling two bottles of orange soda from the refrigerator. "What's yours?"

"Mary Louise Choate. C..h..o..a..t..e," came the faint, almost belligerent response from the living room. "I thought my name was dumb, but Sunny's worse. It's as bad as Misty or Raine."

I beg your pardon, Sunny thought wryly as she finished filling two glasses with ice. "I like it—" she began, turning around with the drinks, then clutched the glasses tightly to keep from dropping them when she found Mary Louise standing directly behind her.

"What's the riddle of the Sphinx?" the girl demanded.

"I think I'm going to have to put a bell on you, Mary Louise," Sunny muttered under her breath, then, "Do you know what the Sphinx was?"

"I'm not stupid," she growled. "Everyone knows that. It's that thing in the desert with no nose."

Sunny moved past her and spoke over her shoulder on her way to the living room. "That's the Egyptian Sphinx. The one I was talking about was a Greek Sphinx."

Placing the drinks on the coffee table, she indicated that her visitor should be seated. "She stopped anyone who passed her and asked them a riddle."

"So?" the girl prompted impatiently as she flopped down on the couch.

"So if they didn't answer it right, she killed them."

"Nice broad," came the gruff response. "What did she look like?"

"She had the face of a woman, the body of a lion, and wings."

The girl looked down at her chunky body, then said, "That's not too far off, but no wings."

"I wasn't referring to the way you look," Sunny said, chuckling at the girl's wry expression. "I meant you seemed to be guarding the hall."

"Just checking," she explained casually. "A person can't be too careful. Especially not in this neighborhood," she added. "So what was the riddle?"

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three in the evening?"

Mary Louise was silent for a moment, then prompted impatiently, "Well, what is it?"

"A man," Sunny said, feeling somehow that her new friend was not going to be thrilled with the answer. "He crawls as a baby, walks upright as an adult, and uses a cane in his later years."

Sunny was right. After rolling her eyes dramatically, Mary Louise gave her opinion. "That's dumb—it's worse than dumb; it's not funny."

"I don't think it was meant to be," Sunny said apologetically. "I don't think humor had been invented when Sophocles wrote about the Sphinx. Although, come to think of it, you might call Oedipus Rex the original black comedy," she added.