CHAPTER THREE
The dream was of a woman.
He was lying on a strangely made bed, the warm breezes of eveningrolling in off the crashing sea and the woman stood in the ornatedoorway that entered the bedroom. About him lay all manner of brightsilks and strange colored cloths. The woman smiled and his eyes caressedher.
Her hair was as gold as the noon sun and her eyes, lifting slightly atthe outer corners, were as blue as the sea. Her lips petaled back overthe white strength of her teeth and her fingers did strange things tomake the flimsy robe drop from the rounded softness of her shoulders. Hewatched her walk, upon curvaceous legs, to the edge of the bed. For justa second, she smiled down at him.
"Father is sleeping like a baby," she whispered.
He felt himself talk: "Good." Then his fingers curled about the curve ofher thigh. His fingers tightened and the crimson smile broadened; hepulled and felt her resist him with maidenly demureness, but in the endshe came to him.
He felt the yielding firmness of her body pressing down into his on thebed and his arms furled about the softness that she offered. The warmcones of her breasts worked on the hardness of his chest and his mouthfused against hers in a passionate kiss.
"Lors, Lors, darling. You've been gone so long." Her voice was a kittenpurr in his ear, warm and gentle.
"I'm back, Jela," he smiled, his hands caressing the lithe length of herbody, folding her against him tightly.
She moved away from him, rolling, tugging at him to respond, but heneeded no encouragement. His body rolled with her, his arms pinning herto him tightly so that she could move nothing ... nothing but her legs,but then there was little need to move anything else...
* * * * *
The dream faded and he cursed, and tried to get back to sleep and thebeautiful woman who awaited him. Sleep came, but the dream was gone.
Andy, shaking his shoulder, woke him about sundown and Nick swung hislegs off the cot and stood up. Still sleepy, he fingered the heavystubble on his face and looked at the old man.
"Y'kin use my razor t'chop off that beard, son," he said. "C'mon, getaround now. Got soup and sandwiches ready an' some famous Hocum coffee."
Nick straightened his wrinkled clothing, shaking the last remnants ofweary fog from his brain. Andy went on talking to him and said somethingthat woke Nick Danson up completely.
"Yer buddies was here, couple o' hours ago, son."
"What?" It was almost impossible to keep the surprise out of his faceand voice. Andy didn't seem to notice anything wrong.
"Th' fellers y'got drunk with. Wanted t'know if I'd seen any strangerson th' road. I said I hadn't, 'cause I figgered they might want t'slapy'around again."
"Thanks, Andy."
Who could possibly know about the plane crash? If the wreck _had_ beenfound, it would be the police asking questions, not two strangers.Somebody, somewhere, was searching for him. Who? And what did they want?
Fingers of fear and worry flittered along his spine.
When they had finished eating, Nick shaved, cleaned himself up andfollowed Andy out to where his car was parked. He found that he likedthe old man, but under the circumstances conversation was difficult. Theplane crash, for one thing, was a bit on the odd side. The burningwreckage, he recalled, had shown no signs of ever having had wings or atail assembly. But that was probably minor; the wings could have beenripped off by the trees when the plane came down. The important thingwas that someone knew he was here. As they drove toward the town ofEverett, the old man began talking about the strangers that had inquiredafter Nick earlier in the day.
"... Nope, I says to the big feller, ain't seen a soul on foot all day,'ceptin' o'course, Jimmy Dilson, goin' down t'Willer Creek, t'fish. Thatseemed t'satisfy them so they lit out."
"Notice what kind of car they drove, Andy?" Nick asked.
"Yep. Gave 'em gas. They was drivin' a Chevrolet. Looked to be a '56 ora '57; black, it was. Blacker'n th' inside of a coal bin, with th'shiniest chrome y'ever saw."
"Sounds like them," Nick told him, enlarging the lie. "One of them shortand the other medium?"
"Not exactly. The one did all the talkin' had a funny accent. Anyways,he was about six feet, three or four, and heavy. Goodlookin', withblond hair. The other guy was about your build, with sandy hair. Nevertalked, that guy."
"They're the ones," Nick lied and shook a cigarette from a half emptypack. "Thanks for not giving me away."
Andy nodded, lapsing into silence, while Nick concentrated on cominghome to a strange woman, and the two men who had been asking after him.For some reason, he got the feeling that Beth Danson was his wife and heaccepted it that way. She couldn't be his sister ... besides, a man hisage would be married, in all likelihood. He wondered vaguely how shewould welcome him, but cast the thought aside. He'd know soon enough.
As they approached Everett, in the gathering twilight, Andy turned tohim.
"Where d'ye want off, son?"
"Weisman Drive. Know it?"
"Yep. We're almost there. Suburban area, just north of town. Y'gotfriends there?"
"Yes." Nick grinned inwardly. That is, he thought, I hope she's afriend. Hell, I don't know whether she hates my guts, or loves me ...but she's the only one that can help. A frightening gloom fell over himsuddenly.
Andy lapsed again into silence and the sound of the motor became loud.Nick continued to ponder the strange men and the woman he was cominghome to, but it was like bashing his head against a wall. He couldremember nothing. And, through his thoughts, the memory of the dreamreturned to him. It was the most vivid dream he had ever had, almost asthough it was real.
Abruptly Andy brought the car to a stop before a sign that read,"Weisman Drive." Nick thanked him and climbed out onto the road. The oldman waved and the car spat cinders as it roared back onto the highway,heading toward the town. For a moment, he stood there watching Andy'scar fade into the night, then he began walking along the road, lookingfor 2312 Weisman Drive and trying to ignore the feeling of fear thatwelled up within him.
When he finally found it, he saw that it was a two story place thatlooked to be white frame, trimmed with a darker color that was probablyblue. In the off light from the street lamp, it was difficult to tell.There was a garage built alongside and a good sized lawn in the front,but there was no evidence of children. A light in the front room toldhim that someone was home - likely Beth - and caution told him he'dbetter make sure no friends were with her.
He slipped quietly up on the porch and looked briefly into the window.Beth was there, sitting on the sofa reading a book. Her hair, henoticed, was brown with a reddish cast to it and she was every bit asbeautiful as the picture he carried in his hip pocket.
He knocked on the door.
It occurred to him, after he had rapped, that this was his own house.Why should he rap? But what was done, was done. He waited until she hadopened the door and stood looking at him. He tried a smile, but BethDanson's eyes widened in shock and her lips parted in astonishment.
"Nick," she whispered, as though she had seen a ghost, and fell to thefloor in a dead faint.
Stunned, he stepped over the crumpled body of the woman and walked intothe room. When he had closed the front door, he lifted her limp body andlaid her on the sofa. He began patting her face and hands to revive her,wondering what the hell he had done to cause her to faint.
Why the devil was she so shocked to see him, he wondered. Is she in lovewith another man and did they rig that plane so it would crash to be ridof me? If they had tried to kill him, he could damned well see why shehad fainted at the sight of him. The rings on her left hand bragged thatshe was married, probably to him. But why faint?
He was trying to decide whether to stay or run, when her long lashesfluttered and she came to. Again her greenish eyes dilated inastonishment, but this time she did not pass out. Her soft arms slidabout his neck and she pulled him down to where she could kiss him. Herwarm lips caressed his face, kissing his mouth, hi
s cheeks and his eyes,while she murmured his name over and over in absolute joy.
Had news of the crash reached her? Did the authorities find the wreckand presume him dead? Was that why she had fainted and was now sooverjoyed at having him back? His mind whirled with a hundred questionsthat his stunted memory refused to answer, and he decided to take iteasy, waiting for her to make the first move.
"Oh, Nick," she murmured against his ear. "Where have you been?"
"I don't know. I've been in a crack up, Beth. I can't rememberanything..."
She pushed him away, suddenly, looking at his face. "Darling! Your face!You're hurt!"
"Just scratches," he told her swiftly. "Nothing serious. Beth, you'vegot to help me. Please!" He felt strange. It was like asking a totalstranger for help, and he was ashamed and confused.
"Of course I'll help you, darling. I'm your wife. Now come out to thekitchen where I can patch you up." Suddenly she burst into tears andheld him close. "Oh, darling, darling! It's so good to have you back!"
He held her until she had stopped crying, then he allowed himself to beled into the kitchen where she began applying iodine and bandaids to hisscratched face. Weariness was again dragging at him like some clutchingdemon that threatened to drag him down into a bog of darkness. Hestudied her, trying to take his mind off his lethargy.
Beth Danson was about twenty-five and, besides her deep auburn-brownhair and lovely face, she boasted an equally attractive body. He foundhimself captivated by the warm thrust of her breasts beneath the silkblouse. The clear milk of her flesh, at the "V" of her throat excitedhim in a strange way. When he thought of her as his wife, it wasfrightening. It was as though someone had tossed him a woman andexpected him to just fall into the routine of marriage. It wouldn't behard to come to love this woman, but it would take awhile. Hell, hedidn't know her. She was a complete stranger who had suddenly told himthey were married. There was nothing familiar about her; even thefingers that were softly working over his face were alien.
Alien! That's it! The whole damned world is alien, and I don't know whoI am, who I've been...
"Beth?" He asked suddenly, "how long have I been gone? You act as thoughit's been a long while..."
"A long while, darling."
"How long?"
She looked steadily at him for a moment, her eyes deep with seriousness."Thirteen months," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Thirteen months! He relaxed heavily in the straight backed chair andstared at her dumbfoundedly. Over a year! Where had he been? What had hedone? Why hadn't he been located before now?
"Thirteen months," he croaked, unable to say anything else.
She nodded. "Oh, Nick, every police agency in the country has beenlooking for you. I've had detectives out hunting. Nolan Brice has beendoing everything he can to locate you. But they couldn't. No one could.It was as though you had disappeared from the face of the earth."
"Nolan Brice?" Nick asked.
"Your best friend..." When she realized that he knew nothing of the man,Nick could see her starting to cry. Her eyes began filling and he couldalmost see the hopelessness within her.
"Please, honey. Don't start crying again."
"I'm trying not to."
He rose to his feet slowly, his head starting to thump and thunderagain, and took her into his arms. It was kind of difficult, trying tocomfort her the way a husband should, but he tried.
"Listen, Beth," he whispered against her cheek. "It'll all come back tome. It'll all come back eventually and I'll remember. But for now ...for now, you'll have to bear with me. I don't know where I've been, orwhat I've done, so don't tell anyone I'm here. Please! Don't tell asingle soul! No one!"
"But why, Nick?"
"Because I could have killed someone. I could be a thief, a desperado orsomething. I don't know. I could even have gotten married..."
"Oh, darling!" She collapsed on his shoulder and began crying violentlyagain.
"Honey, honey! I didn't say that's what I've done. It's just that Idon't know. Whatever I am, I can take my medicine, but I want to knowwhat it is first. You've got to understand that."
She tried a smile, blinking back the tears that lay close to thesurface, and he forced a smile to pull at his mouth. It was difficult tocomfort her, yet he knew that it was his duty to do so. She'd beenthrough a hell of a lot, _and_ she had the memories of it. He did not.Despite the alien feeling that was welling within him, he knew that shewas the only person who could help him return to himself. Whether heloved her or not was immaterial; he needed her desperately to show himto the man he was. Perhaps it would all come back then.
"I'm sorry, Nick. I'll try to help."
"Thanks, honey."
"Hungry?" She asked brightly, moving to turn the flame on under thecoffee pot. At his nod, she went on: "There's some apple pie and I canwhip up a couple of sandwiches, or something."
"Coffee and pie is fine."
"In a way, it'll be like courting all over again," she told him, in anattempt at lightness. "It's terrible to lose the things we had, thememories. I can't share them with you anymore. But we'll make a wholelot of new ones to take their place."
"I'm interested in the old ones right now," he told her glumly. "Thingshave happened so fast, it's hard to accustom to the thing."
"I know," she mused, working over the meal.
He looked at her steadily. "Beth? When did you last see me?"
"Thirteen months ago."
"No, no. I mean, where was I going, what was I doing?"
"You were going up to the cabin to repair the fireplace and build somelawn furniture. You were going to stay over night and come back theevening of the second day. When you didn't come back, Nolan took me upto look for you. Your car was there, but you were gone."
"No clues?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. We thought you might have wandered offinto the woods and injured yourself; but I couldn't accept that. Youwere always a good woodsman, even in desolate country like that."
"Secluded, huh?" He asked.
"Some of the worst country in the state. We bought the place so we couldget away from the mess in the city."
He smiled at her. Apparently they had gotten away from one mess merelyto fall victim to another.
She sliced him a huge piece of pie and set it before him, the same bravesmile still fixed upon her lips. Then she fixed the coffee for him,black with a lump of sugar. He forked some of the pie into his mouth andfelt a little sick, along with the headache. A stranger feeding him andloving him, and who knew more about him than he did. He bolted the pieand gulped the coffee hurriedly. When he had finished, he glanced at theelectric clock above the pink refrigerator. 9:15.
"Tired, dear?" She asked.
He nodded dully. Now, he thought, I suppose I'm to crawl into bed withher! He felt trapped, suddenly panic stricken at the thought; but shewas his wife. He'd married her. He'd probably slept with her thirteenmonths before. Why the horror?
"We'll go to bed now," she decided. "I usually turn in early. Have towork, you know."
"I'll sleep on the sofa," Nick mumbled.
She blinked at him. "You'll do no such thing. You'll march rightupstairs to bed, Nick Danson."
And the die, he figured, was cast...