The Second Mrs Adams

A flush rose into Joanna’s cheeks.

Which only proved how little dreams had to do with reality. David had apologized for his behaviour and she’d accepted the apology, but if he so much as touched her again, she‘d—she’d—

“What’s the matter?”

She turned and looked at him. He was frowning, though that wasn’t surprising. His face had been set in a scowl all morning.

“Nothing,” she said brightly.

“I thought I heard you whimper.”

“Whimper? Me?” She laughed, or hoped she did. “No, I didn’t...well, maybe I did. I have a, ah, a bit of a headache.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” He leaned forward and opened the paneled bar that was built into the Bentley. “Corbett gave you some pills, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but I don’t need them.”

“Dammit, must you argue with me about everything?”

“I don’t argue about everything...do I?”

David looked at her. She didn’t. Actually, she never had. It was-just this mood he was in this morning.

He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I guess I’m just feeling irritable today. Look, it can’t hurt to take a couple of whatever he gave you, can it?”

“No, I suppose not.”

He smiled, a first for the day that she could recall, poured her a tumbler of iced Perrier and handed it to her.

“Here. Swallow them down with this.”

Joanna shook two tablets out of the vial and did as he’d asked.

“There,” she said politely. “Are you happy now?”

It was the wrong thing to say. His brow furrowed instantly and his mouth took on that narrowed look she was coming to recognize and dislike.

“Since when did worrying about what makes me happy ever convince you to do anything?”

The words were out before he could call them back. Damn, he thought, what was the matter with him? A couple of hours ago, he’d been congratulating himself on his decision to play the role of supportive husband. Now, with at least half an hour’s drive time to go, he was close to blowing the whole thing.

And whose fault was that? He’d walked into Joanna’s room this morning and she’d looked at him as if she expected him to turn into a monster.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he’d said gruffly, and she’d made a gesture that made it clear that what had happened had no importance at all...but she’d jumped like a scared cat when he’d tried to help her into the back of the car and just a couple of minutes ago, after sitting like a marble statue for the past hour, he’d caught her shooting him the kind of nervous look he’d always figured people reserved for vicious dogs.

Oh, hell, he thought, and turned toward her.

“Listen,” he said, “about what happened last night...”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, neither do I. I just want to assure you it won’t happen again.”

“No,” she said. Her eyes met his. “It won’t.”

“We’ve both been under a lot of pressure. The accident, your loss of memory...”

“What about before the accident?”

“What do you mean?”

Joanna hesitated. “I get the feeling that we...that we didn’t have a very happy marriage.”

It was his turn to hesitate now, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“It was a marriage,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to quantify it.”

Joanna nodded. What he meant was, no, they hadn’t been happy. It wasn’t a surprise. Her husband didn’t like her very much and she...well, she didn’t know him enough to like him or dislike him, but it was hard to imagine she could ever have been in love with a man like this.

“Did Dr. Corbett tell you not to discuss our relationship with me? Whether it was good or not, I mean?”

“No,” he said, this time with all honesty. “I didn’t discuss our marriage with Corbett. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. I just thought...” She sighed and tugged at the hem of her skirt. Not that there was any reason to. The hem fell well below her knees. “I just thought he might have asked you questions about—about us.”

“I wouldn’t have answered them,” David said bluntly. “Corbett’s a neurosurgeon, not a shrink.”

“I know. I guess I’ve just got psychiatry on the brain this morning, considering where we’re going.”

“Bright Meadows? But I told you, it’s a rehab center.”

“Oh, I know that. I just can’t get this weird picture out of my head. I don’t know where it comes from but I keep seeing a flight of steps leading up to an old mansion with a nurse standing on top of the steps. She’s wearing a white uniform and a cape, and she has—I know it’s silly, but she has a mustache and buck teeth and a hump on her back.”

David burst out laughing. “Cloris Leachman!”

“Who?”

“An actress. What you’re remembering is a scene from an old movie with Mel Brooks called...I think it was High Anxiety. He played a shrink and she played—give me a minute—she played evil Nurse Diesel.”

Joanna laughed. “Evil Nurse Diesel?”

“Uh-huh. We found the movie playing on cable late one night, not long after we met. We both said we didn’t like Mel Brooks’ stuff, slapstick comedy, but we watched for a few minutes and we got hooked. After a while, we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t stop.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. We watched right to the end, and then I phoned around until I found an all-night place to order pizza and you popped a bottle of wine into the freezer to chill and then...” And then I told you that I loved you and asked you to be my wife.

“And then?”