A Special Man (12 page)

What bothered her more than his abruptness was something that was going on inside herself. She had tried to tell herself it was due to being cooped up in a small space with him. But deep down she didn't believe it and her reactions worried her. Because Amanda had finally admitted to herself that she was physically attracted to Daniel and had been from the beginning.

It seemed wrong; she wasn't even sure if she liked him. Why was she suddenly wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him? To be touched by him?

Always before, when she had been attracted to a man—even Danny—the mental and emotional attraction had come first. The physical part was simply an extension of the other.

She even wondered if she was feeling something similar to what Virgie felt, but she knew she wasn't. Virgie needed sex for sex's sake, the man didn't matter. As Amanda glanced at the man sitting beside her on the rug, she knew that she wouldn't feel this deep need for anyone except Daniel.

"Okay, let's start again," he said, startling her out of her reverie, bringing a slight touch of color to her cheeks. "Where were we?"

"You were telling me about something that had happened at Christmas," she said. "Was that before or after your father died?"

"Before," he said after a moment of thought. "I remember Lena worrying because he was so late."

She had learned from their talks that Lena was his stepmother and Kyle, his half brother. Daniel's own mother had died before he had had a chance to know her.

"She shouldn't have worried," he continued. "Dad was always late. He loved that company. Philton was his life. For a while after he died, I felt like a usurper every time I walked into his office and sat in his chair."

"How was your relationship with Lena?" she asked. She had found that asking him about the times before the eleven-year gap sometimes awakened one of the lost memories.

Daniel stared into the fire, recalling the face that was sweet and pretty but lacking strength. "We got along fairly well. She was very pretty and lots of fun to be around."

"Did you notice that you said 'was'?"

"She died," he said suddenly. "Two years after Dad."

"I'm sorry. No one should have to lose two mothers in one lifetime."

"She was never my mother." He said the words, not resentfully but matter-of-factly. He could recall vividly the day his father had brought Lena home as his new wife. Daniel had been a very shy five-year-old, and in the space of one day his whole life had changed.

"Daniel, we have a surprise for you." His father turned to the small blond woman standing beside him. "Lena and I were married this morning. What do you think of that?"

Daniel's green eyes were solemn in his thin face as he stared up at Lena, studying her, gauging her reaction to him. Then she smiled, and the room lit up.

"Well, Daniel," she said, "do you think it will work? Do you think I'm mother material?"

She wanted to like him, and she wanted him to like her. Daniel could tell by the way the smile reached her eyes. He held his knees stiff as they began to tremble slightly.

He extended his hand toward her. "I'm glad it's you," he said, his small-boy voice husky.

Ignoring his hand, she enveloped him in a hug that smelled of flowers and sunshine. "So am I, honey."

No, Lena had not been his mother, but she had been a friend. And without her, Daniel wouldn't have had Kyle. Kyle had changed the texture of his life. Suddenly there was a vibrant new voice in the house, filling the empty spaces, dispersing the loneliness.

When they had brought him home from the hospital wrapped in a blue blanket, Kyle had been red and squalling and demanding. But to seven-year-old Daniel, it hadn't mattered that the baby was ugly. Kyle was special. Daniel felt it when he looked at his brother, and he saw his opinion confirmed in Lena's and his father's expressions. Kyle was special—

Daniel felt very important as he walked into the sitting room. Lena was reading and didn't hear him enter. He looked down at the paper in his hand. His essay had been chosen as the best in the whole sixth grade. He himself would read it to the school on Friday at assembly.

"Lena," he said, his voice filled with quiet intensity.

She glanced up from her book. "Daniel," she said in smiling surprise. "Is it time for you to be home already?" She studied his face. "You look like you?*e about to explode. What's this?" She reached for the paper he held.

Before she could do more than glance at it, they head a wail from the hall. Together they rushed out of the room. Kyle's chubby face was red and streaked with tears as he sat on the stairs, rubbing his leg.

Lena scooped him up and sat down with him in her arms while Daniel hovered anxiously. "What happened, darling?"

"Dan left his truck on the stairs and...and I tripped," he sobbed.

"Daniel," Lena said sternly. "That's not like you. You're usually so neat."

Daniel frowned. Kyle must have forgotten that Daniel had given him the truck to play with that very morning. "I'm sorry, Lena," he muttered. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry you got hurt, Kyle."

"It's all right," Kyle said, his tears dissolving in an engaging chuckle. "You always find my toys for me. I guess this time I found one for you."

Daniel and Lena laughed, neither of them noticing the crumpled essay that lay on the polished wood floor.

"Lena was a good woman," Daniel said, still staring into the fire. "But somehow I always felt like a spare tire. I saw her face when she was with Kyle—" his eyes took on a faraway look "—and I knew I was missing something." He shook his head and laughed. "It wasn't her fault. Kyle was chubby and cute and always laughing. I was not exactly a cuddly sort of kid."

Though Amanda was sure he hadn't intended it, Daniel's words painted a too-vivid picture of his childhood. Suddenly Amanda felt angry for the child he had been all those years ago, always yearning for warmth and love but not knowing how to get it. She could imagine him solemn and quiet, but always wishing he could be different.

Daniel watched Amanda from the corners of his eyes, wondering what she was thinking. These memory sessions couldn't be very interesting for her, but she always asked another question, as though more were involved than just his remembering, as though she were working out a puzzle.

"Lena didn't marry again after your father died?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Two years isn't that long. She was very much in love with my father. I'll always be grateful to her for that."

Lena's death had been harder on Kyle than it had been on Daniel, even though the younger man hadn't been with her at the end as Daniel had. Kyle had flown back from Italy for the funeral, and the change in him had shocked Daniel. The change hadn't been only physical and mental; it had been emotional as well.

"I need a drink," Kyle said as they left the cemetery together. They had not talked about Lena's last hours yet, and Daniel wondered if Kyle would be able to handle it.

"You look like you need about a month's rest," Daniel said. "What have you been doing to yourself over there?"

Kyle grinned. "You know what they say about Italian women."

"If your dissipation is due to Italian women, I think you'd better come home and stick to good old American girls."

"I wouldn't, even if I could," Kyle said, his voice unexpectedly solemn. "I'm making a life for myself over there, Dan. You wouldn't believe the people I do business with. Powerful men, men who can have anything in the world they want just by snapping their fingers."

Daniel studied his brother silently. "Are you working too hard, Kyle? Is the business worrying you?"

"Hello, no." Kyle glanced up at Daniel. "This is a switch. I never thought you would tell me to stop working."

"You can carry anything too far. Just don't overdo it. And for heaven's sake, let me hear from you once in a while. It shouldn't take a tragedy to get us together."

Kyle fell silent, and Daniel knew he was thinking of


Lena. He would never tell his brother how she had


begged for her son at the end. Daniel could spare him


that pain

Daniel frowned. Italy was a long way away, but that didn't explain why Kyle had not been to Greenleigh in the whole time Daniel was there. Surely someone had told him when Daniel was institutionalized. "How old were you when you were married?" Daniel's thoughts came back to the woman beside him with a jolt. It took him a second to assimilate her question, then he grimaced. "Nineteen, if you can believe that," he said, giving a short laugh. "Not even dry behind the ears."

Daniel didn't like to think about his marriage. It had lasted only six months, but he always felt he should have known what was happening sooner. Her name was Joanne—pretty, sweet, greedy Joanne.

"But Daniel, everyone will be at the Baxters' tonight. We've just got to go."

He watched Joanne silently as she stood naked, pulling dress after dress from the closet. He tried to call up the emotions he had felt when he had married her, but even desire was gone.

"I told you last week I won't go to this party," he said quietly. "You're free to go by yourself."

She swung around toface him, her features unattractive with mottled anger. "You're jealous," she hissed. "You know Stu Baxter likes me, and it's eating away at you."

"Don't be coy, Jo. Everyone knows you're sleeping with Stuart Baxter." He turned his back on her, the sight of her making him a little sick. "I just wish you had decided you liked the fun-loving type before you married me."

"You bastard," she spat out. "Do you think 1 intended it to be forever? Stu's lawyers are working on the divorce papers right now."

She bit her lip, and Daniel knew she had told him more than she had intended. He smiled. "I'm afraid you're a little late, my darling wife. My lawyer beat you to it."

. Her face was bright red with fury. "On what grounds? I warn you, you won't get away with telling lies about me, Daniel. If you make trouble... if you don't give me everything that's coming to me, I'll tell everyone the truth."

"The truth won't hurt me, Jo," he said wearily. "But I have a feeling the truth isn't what you have in mind."

"It's the truth all right. You haven't touched me in two months. And I know why." Her voice was smug. "You don't like women, do you, Daniel. I'll bet Stu could hire a private detective and get pictures that would shock everyone in California."

Daniel smiled. "People in California aren't so easily shocked. Don't even try it, Jo. You'll make a nice sum for having put up with me for all these months. I advise you to be satisfied with that."

But she hadn't, of course, Daniel thought. He glanced at Amanda. "I deserved everything I got. It taught me a lesson. I learned real quick that she was more interested in being Mrs. Daniel Phillips than in being my wife. Dad bought me out of that one, but I made sure he never had to do it again."

Amanda turned away from him, afraid to let him see what was in her eyes. It all fit together, she thought. At last she understood why he seemed so hard. The lesson he had learned was to trust no one but himself.

Sitting up straighter, she said, "Tell me again about Philton. Surely someone who worked there eleven years ago is still there."

"Jonas Brady?" he murmured. He thought of the lined face of the man who had been his right hand and his father's before him. Then he slowly shook his head. "It doesn't make any difference. Even if Jonas is still there, I wouldn't get in touch with him. I wouldn't even call Kyle."

She stared at him in bewilderment. "Why not?''

"I've tried to look at this from the other side. Everyone I know surely has heard that I was institutionalized. If I call and say, 'Hey, I'm all right now,' what are they going to do? If they cared at all, they wouldn't take a chance that I was wrong. They would feel it was their duty to try to get me back to Greenleigh. And I don't think I could stand it." Again he shook his head, but more emphatically this time. "No, even if I knew of someone I could trust, it wouldn't be fair to put that kind of burden on anyone." He stretched. "I guess I'll just have to confront the dragon by myself."

She stiffened in shock. "Why do you say that?"

He glanced at her in inquiry. "I just explained why. I don't want—"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Why did you phrase it that way—confront the dragon?'"

His eyes were puzzled. "I don't know. It just came out that way. You look strange. Why does it matter how I put it?"

She blinked back unexpected tears. "It doesn't matter," she assured him huskily. "It just seemed a little out of character."

He smiled wryly. "If that means you can't picture me in a fantasy, then you're right. I'll leave the fantasies to you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, anger effectively drying her tears.

"You're the Don Quixote around here, not me." He paused for a moment, studying her. "But you're not really, are you? I think I've finally figured you out."

"Oh, really. How nice for you," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Yes, really. You were in love with him, weren't you?"