So Hard To Forget Part 16

JOHN GILL MAN was a dangerous man. She'd heard that enough to believe it was true. He was a man who liked to prey on women, play with their minds and destroy their self-esteem. Her sister had suffered.

She could almost feel Sandra's pain, the desolation and the mind-numbing fear.

Nicole was suddenly light-headed, disoriented, yet strangely rock solidly planted where she stood. It was as if she were outside herself, seeing the room and everyone in it as a whole picture and feeling all their mixed emotions bombarding her at once. For a second her breath caught and hung in her throat. Then she told herself she was not her sister, not Sandra Apple-white Giliman. A sense of calm settled over her. Odd, she thought, that she suddenly felt stronger, even se The light in the room seemed to dim, making John Gillman the focal point. There was a ttuuering sensation in her stomach, and her heart was racing. It amazed her that after her initial reaction, she felt detached from any emotions concerning him at all. It was the feeling she had when tracking a rogue animal that had taken to senseless slaughter. She was in control.

Several points of interest flashed across her mind at once as Helen filled in the sudden silence. The older woman had managed to put a damper on her hatred and played the mother hen whose chick had just been delivered from the wows jaws. She was even gracious enough to endow John with a tight smile of triumph.

Nicole knew by the way Gillman's gaze scanned the room, a.s.sessing and calculating, that there was nothing he'd missed. As he moved closer to her, she could see his anger replaced first with doubt, then fear. She almost smiled, thinking that as ironic as it seemed, he was just as scardd as she was. In the s.p.a.ce of time before he spoke, she had an amazingly rational moment. She'd once had a sister, a twin, a person who was part of her. Because of this man's greed, her twin was dead, and she was never going to know her. If it killed her, Nicole was going to make him pay for his actions.

"Sandra. It can't he."

The curtain had risen and it was time to play her part. Nicole braced herself. "I'm sorry. I know who you are and who I'm supposed to be, but you must understand I don't remember you." The voice she heard was that of a stranger, and it took a moment to realize it was actually her speaking. She'd taken on that mint-julep, sultry-nights tone. The soft slow Southern voice of Sandra. The transformation must have been amusing. She sensed, more than saw, the crackle of electricity in the air as everyone in the room John took a couple steps toward her.

She watched him and the way his eyes squint vat to pinpoints, taking in every detail, studying her every feature. Still mesmerized by her appearance, he reached out to touch her cheek to a.s.sure himself that she wasn't a ghost but flesh and bone.

As hard as she tried not to, Nicole flinched. In doing so, she instinctively moved closer to Max's protective embrace. There was a flare of fire in John's dark eyes. It was only a flash, a split second, so fast she could only stand stiffly and feel the surge of triumph. His rage meant he believed she was Sandra, and his fear of what she could do to him was complete.

Max's hand tightened on Nicky's shoulder. "This is Nicky."

Gillman was like a man struck dumb. Those same eyes that had devoured Nicole suddenly s.h.i.+fted to his face. As jovial as possible, Max held out his hand. "I'm Dr. Max Gibson."

Gillman nodded but ignored the outstretched hand His attehtion returned to Nicole. He seemed to manage to rally his survival instincts and regain his composure. "Sandra had--has--a crescent-shaped mole behind her left ear. May IT'

The final blow of reality, Nicole thought. That last nail hammered home. There could be no doubts. He would think she was Sandra. He moved closer, almost hesitantly, as if he had to screw up the courage to look. She felt the power behind the urbane good looks, smelled the rain and salt water on his clothes. Suddenly she was no longer playing a role. She was Sandra, only a stronger Sandra. One who wouldn't stiffen or flinch away. But not so strong she forgot that Gill-man was a snake watching his prey, and even Sandra had to playact to escape being eaten alive.

She glanced at Max for guidance, as Sandra would. Her hand trembled, as Sandra's would, as she swept the short curls back and twisted her head sideways. She heard the way Gillman's breath caught and knew he'd been praying she wouldn't have the birthmark. When she dropped h arm and gazed at him, his eyes were wide with disbelief. He staggered back, grabbed the arm of a chair and almost fell into it. "How? I don't understand." "Understand what, John?" Helen asked.

Max didn't trust Helen to hold her wrath at bay for long, and he stepped into the sudden simmering silence to keep her from losing her cool. "Come on, darling," he said, guiding Nicole toward the couch. "You've given John the shock of his life. He must have a million questions."

Gillman apparently had recovered from his shock and rage. "You're d.a.m.n right I have." He glanced around as if wanting everyone to disappear so he could be alone with Sandra. No one moved. "What the h.e.l.l is my wife doing living here on this island? Why wasn't I informed of her survival and whereabouts until now? What the h.e.l.l is going on? Why doesn't she know me? I want an explanation. Now."

Max knew Gillman's survival instincts had kicked in big-time. He was scared and angry, and like any cornered animal he was going to lash out. They were in for the performance of their lives.

"Someone better start talking fast or I'm going to call the authorities, then take my wife and leave."

Nicole whimpered, as she knew Sandra would have when forced into a confrontation. She turned her head into Max's shoulder. "I begged you not to do this. He's going to take me away from you." Wedged between Max and Helen, she turned pleading eyes to the older woman, who tried to soothe her fears away. Then she glanced at John again. "Nothing is Maxie's fault." She felt the muscles in Max's arm tighten, his fingers digging into her upper arm, warning her not to get cute. "You must believe that. I never want to leave the island--or him."

"This is absurd," Gillman snarled. "Helen, do you know how Sandra came to be here and why she's still here?"

Max gave Nicole's arm another warning squeeze. "It's not hard to understand." He twisted the knife of jealousy deeper. "You heard her. Nicky doesn't want to leave the island or me."

"Her haree's Sandra. Sandra Gillman."

"That's the rub, Gillman. She's not Sandra Gillman or Sandra Applewhite, not anymore." He watched as John's eyes narrowed to slits, and for a moment he rested his head in his hand. Then he seemed to gather himself together and glanced up. Max continued, "I found her drifting in the sea, holding on to a portion of a boac My crew and I fished her out and brought her here."

"She didn't say anything? Tell you who she was? For G.o.d's sake, man--" Gillman's voice rose in anger "--didn't you take her to the mainland to a doctor?"

"I am a doctor, John." He deliberately used that detached reserved way he'd seen the real Dr. Gibson employ to drive his colleagues crazy. "Nicky--" "Sandra," Gillman snapped back.

"--was very sick. She had cuts, burns, contusions all over her body. There was severe trauma to the head and neck area. Added to all that, she was seriously dehydrated and hallucinating. She was hanging on to life by a thread. It took months of care to get her back to health, and I wasn't overly concerned when she wouldn't talk. When she finally did speak, it was only when I mentioned I was going to start making inquiries her To] it in terms, she freaked. From then on every time I mentioned finding out who she was she nearly had a nervous breakdown. I stopped for her own recovery and peace of mind."

"What about her family's peace of mind, Doc? Did you ever consider us?"

"No," Max said bluntly. "I was" worried about Nicky."

"Sandra." John glanced at Helen. "Don't you have anything to say about this?"

"No. My baby's alive and fight now that's all I care about. When Dr. Gibson contacted me, he told me everything."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" John growled. "Not fight away. She's my daughter and I'll do--" "--but my wife!" John shouted back.

"Actually she's my wife," Max said, and was pleased to see that flare of fury in John's eyes quickly banked as he straggled to get control of himself.

"What do you mean, your wife? Sandra's married to me."

"But Nicky is married to me." Max fought the urge to keep from smiling when he saw John's frustration. Max was having fun.

Nicole wasn't. While she was being the sweet docile Sandra, she'd had more time to observe John. This was a supremely self-absorbed and selfish man. He wasn't going to take failure with a good-natured shrug. He was like a rumbling volcano just waiting to erupt.

She wondered if Max and his staff realized how strung out John was and decided it was time to put the focus back on her where it could be controlled. "I was the one to finally decide that we needed to try and find out who I was, where I came from and if I had any family. Max and I want to have children, and there shouldn't be any question as to their legitimacy."

When John let loose a furious gasp and headed toward them, Max quickly rose to meet him. Nicole's breath escaped in a long hiss when John caught himself and stopped.

"I'm sorry." He held up his hands in surrender. "Really, I'm sorry." He turned to Nicole. "You're killing me, baby. To hear you say that, to talk about children when we planned to start a family--that's what the cruise was all about. A second honeymoon. A new beginning. I just can't stand to hear you--Surely you remember."

"I'm sorry, I wish I could. But I have no memory of you or anything that occurred before Max found me. Max is my life." She pressed her fingers to her temples and began to rub them. "I have a headache and need some fresh air."

Helen got quickly to her feet. "That's a good idea. Why don't I come with you and we'll leave the men alone to talk."

As soon as the door shut behind them and they'd moved out of view of the windows, Nicole leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "I'm exhausted."

"Emotional turmoil will do that."

Nicole looked at Helen with new respect. She'd held up beautifully, through great strength of character and sheer determination. "Sandra was lucky, you know, to have a mother like you. She must have loved you dearly."

Helen ducked her head and blinked away the tears. When she lifted her it was to stare at the man they Big Jim, who'd strolled out onto the patio and begun wiping down the patio furniture. He brought them two chairs and placed them under the canopy.

"Looks like another storm brewing," he said. He picked up a pool net and began cleaning leaves and debris from the surface of the water.

Nicole wanted to ask him how the staff thought it was going, but knew she wasn't supposed to talk to him. She shook her head at Helen in warning, seeing the same desire on her face to get another's opinion and approval. When the patio door opened, they turned. Her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair.

John glanced around, noting the pool man and another worker not too far away raking leaves from the gra.s.s. "Helen, I'd like to talk to Sandra." When his mother-in-law hesitated, he said, "Alone, Helen."

Reluctantly Helen started to leave, then paused. "Not too long. It's going to rain again and the wind's turning cooler."

Nicole loosened her grip on the chair and relaxed.

He waited until they were alone. "You've cut your hair." He lifted his hand to touch the soft blond curls.

"Max had to shave my head to st.i.tch me up. I like it this way." She watched as Big Jim moved around so he was closer to her. As LeRoy raked leaves he also moved closer to the patio.

"This can't happen, Sandra." John grasped her hand in his. "I'm your legal husband. I love you. I was devastated when I thought you were dead." He picked up her hand and settled it on his thigh, then covered it with his own. "I wanted to die, too, that day. I think I did. Surely you must remember something about us. Anything. You can't have just cut it all out."

What was left of the afternoon light had been blocked by the rolling clouds. "No." She stared off into the distance, letting the silence stretch between them. When she thought he was on the verge of losing his temper, she said, "I'm sorry for your loss, but I'm just not Sandra. I'm Nicky."

Holding her hand, he began moving it up and down his thigh, and his voice dropped to a soft purr. "You don't remember anything at all?"

A gust of wind caught the leaves and debris Jim had piled beside the pool and sent them swirling in all directions, mostly back onto the water. The heat from John's body was apparent under her hand, as was the rock-solid muscle. She forced herself to keep a tranquil expression and gaze steadily into his eyes. His touch wasn't repugnant, just ... bone-deep evil. Now was the time to bait the hook, but she hesitated. Once committed to traveling down the road Max and his staff had drilled into her, there would be no turning back. "Only little things," she said. "They don't mean much."

"What little things?"

There was a rumble of thunder and raindrops began to spatter lightly on the surface of the pool water. John was very still. She managed to slip her hand from under his. "I see bright flashes of light and feel a searing heat on my skin. Max says it could be the fire when the yacht exploded. And sometimes I hear a voice, but I can't make out what's being said."" "Are the memories the same all the time?" "Yes. No. I started out seeing only the lights. Lately, though..." The wind kicked up agmn, swirling, circling, picking at leaves them fluttering. The thick ferns shook as if frightened of what was approaching.

"I see."

She hoped he did see. That was the plan. He was wondering if her memory would return in full. Nicole stared out over the pool to the darkening lagoon beyond. The storm was stealing the sunlight, and the water looked like it was capped with white lace. She turned and stared at John Gillman, barely managing to keep her expression as pleasant as Sandra would have.

"Ever since Max and I decided to find out who I was, we made a promise to each other that no matter what, we would always be together. I love Max with all my heart. I can't be your wife, John. You have to let mego."

He jerked as if stung by a wasp. "I can't do that, Sandra. But I'll tell you what. The doc and I discussed the possibility of my taking you back to the States to find a good psychiatrist who could help you." "Max didn't agree to that, did he?"

"Oh, he's resisting, but he knows it's the only way. Besides, he really can't stop me, baby." John captured her hand from her lap and gave it a painful squeeze. "You are, after all, my wife. I'll do whatever is necessary to get you back."

She could sense the boiling cauldron of emotions just under the surface, needing only to have the flame lit and he would explode. Now was not the right time. "I can't leave here, John. It's my home."

He gave a snort of disbelief. "You can't be happy here. Not you who loves to keep busy with your charity work, your friends, shopping... Think of the parties, Sandra. Surely this desolate place is more like a prison. And what the h.e.l.l kind of doctor is Gibson, anyway, that he hides out here with no patients---only locals and his servants?"

"I do cancer research," Max said.

Neither of them had heard him come out of the house, and both jumped. Max was leaning against the side of the house. John rose quickly to his feet and faced him. Max went on, "You're not taking Nicky anywhere, Gillman. Not unless she wants to leave." He couldn't risk getting into a staring match with John, couldn't chance the other man's seeing anything but an insignificant doctor who'd taken what was his. Deliberately he was the first to look away. John's victorious triumph was quickly squashed as Nicole got up and stumbled into Max's arms.

John stared from one to the other. "I don't think the authorities will agree to Sandra's staying here once they find out she's alive. You'll have to take her back to Virgin Gorda for a hearing and answer a lot of questions. I'll make my claim there. My wife needs medical care from a psychiatrist. The law is on my side." He swung around, intent on heading toward the dock and the yacht he'd rented.

Things had gotten out of hand, Nicole thought. Max wasn't supposed to b.u.t.t in when they were talking. Dammit it wasn't as if she and John were alone on the patio. Her bodyguards were within reach. There were cameras watching and listening. The plan was that she was to have more time to set the hook, to lead him on. She could have killed Max. Instead, she stomped on his foot to let him know she didn't appreciate his interference.

The wind played with her hair, tickling the back of her neck and sending a s.h.i.+ver up her spine. Or at least she persuaded herself that was the reason for the chill.

She'd already gone through so much and hadn't come all this way, accepted the money and endured being made into someone she wasn't, just to let John leave. She'd be dammed if she'd let that happen, and so she called his name, putting as much confusion into her voice as she could.

John stopped and she asked, "Was I a good cook?" She was adlibbing veering from the script, but she struck home nonetheless. Max covered his shock with a laugh, as if it was a private joke between them. But John didn't seem to find anything amusing in her question.

He slowly returned to the patio, Just as he ducked under the canopy, the black clouds opened up. Fat raindrops. .h.i.t the ground and her bare legs and feet with such force they hurt. Nicole laughed and made a dash for the door. Max was right behind her, followed by John. Then Max yelled for Doug, and together they struggled to close the shutter doors to the patio.

As Nicole flicked the water from her shoulders, shook it out of her hair and wiped her feet on the area rug, John moved in close. Too close. She made herself concentrate on ding her feet.

"Why did you ask about cooking?"

"I don't like to cook. I'm hopeless around a stove. While I'm cooking, I have a habit of walking out of the kitchen and forgetting what I'm doing." She giggled. "I know it's silly, and it's something Max teases me about." She didn't know whether it was the question that caused the change in John or the giggle. She sensed that Helen had reacted with a jerk when she heard it. Whichever it was, John's reaction had been quickly disguised with a condescending smile.

"You used to do the same at home."

There was a roughness in his tone, and she could tell by the way his shapely mouth pulled in at the corners that he was controlling some violent emotion. "Maybe I'm remembering the past." "What?"

She decided she'd dangled the carrot in front of: him enough for the time being, and now she backed off, relieved when Max's arm slipped around her shoulders. She rewarded him with a loving indulgent smile, the sort she might bestow on a pesky child. "See, darling? All those knocks on the head that scrambled my brains didn't leave me totally crazy. I've done it before. Do you think I might be remembering things?"

An earsplitting crack of thunder, loud enough to drown out Max's response, made them all look toward the ceiling and watt for silence to prevail. Max was the first to speak. "Doug tells me there's a small-craft warning out until after sunset, John. I don't know about you, but I'm lousy at night navigation. Maybe you should stay here for the night."

"I never planned to leave," John said. "Not without Sandra."

NICOLE CLIMBED into bed with a heartfelt sigh of relief. She rested her head against the soft pillow and closed her eyes. "What a night," she mumbled, too tired to raise her voice above a whisper.

"Did the hot bath help your headache?"

She turned her head. "Some. I didn't think I was going to be able to eat at the same table with him, though."

"He is single-minded, isn't he?"

"He never gives up. I wonder how many times and ways I heard that I was his wife and needed a specialist, some expert medical care."

"Enough to give me a headache too." Max turned on his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Where did the Kentucky drawl come from? I thought you couldn't and wouldn't do it."

She wiggled her toes and watched the covers move, trying to make up her mind whether to tell him. "Itjust came to me. Max, do you believe in ghosts? Or maybe not ghosts, but some kind of spiritual presence?"

"No. Maybe."

She chuckled. "Well, which is it?"

"I don't know. Why? Do you think Sandra's haunting us?"

"No, no. I can't explain it. But there's something. Like the accent thing. I couldn't get it right before, no matter how hard I tried. Then suddenly I'm talking like I was Kentucky-born-and-bred. Oh, h.e.l.l, this is silly. I don't believe in ghosts, but maybe Sandra's ... I don't know, watching over me."

Max nodded. "Like a guardian angel?"

She folded and creased the sheet neatly across her chest waiting for Max's scornful snicker, but it never came. She twisted on her side to face him. "Yes. Do you think that could be?"

"Just because you never met her or knew of her, she was your sister. Stranger things have happened between twins. I wouldn't rule anything out."

"I'm not scared of him, you know. It's sort of like he's no real threat to me. That I'm safe and he can't hurt me."

"That's a big mistake. Don't ever let your guard down around him."

"No, you don't understand. I know he can't hurt me. How do I know? I don't know, but I do."

"Damreit Nicky, he's a dangerous animal!"

She agreed. "And I'm used to dealing with dangerous animals, the four-legged variety."