Is Three A Crowd? (6 page)

“Yes, definitely. You were always beautiful in mind and spirit, but now you seem afraid to just be you.”

“I don’t remember how?”

Her tone was even, almost calm, he decided, but there was an inner struggle going on. Her knitted brow and erect posture gave away her angst. Not knowing her well in this post-accident reincarnation yet, he could only imagine she wanted to scream with frustration but knew it wouldn’t help.

“We were lovers?”

“Yes.”

“When?” She held his gaze, wanting the truth. “If you knew me five years ago you know not to lie to me, especially under the strange circumstances.”

“It’s not like I can read your mind.” He paused and stared at her.

“I’m just accustomed to your moods.”

“Is that why you’re so calm, you know the answers and get to dole out the information as you feel fit?”

“Maris, I understand this is all a lot to take in, but believe me, I’ve no reason to harm you, instead let me guide you on this…journey to your history.”

“What if I said I don’t want to know? That I want to walk away.”

“You’re a free soul, you’ll make up your mind as you remember, hopefully in the direction I propose.”

“Will my history scare me?”

“Your perceptions will be different.”

“Since I don’t have any just yet, I suppose we’ll have to start with yours.”

“History lessons, I think not. I’d rather you relax and let yourself remember in your own time.” His tone was dismissive, and he saw Maris prickle outwardly.

“That’s fine for you, you’re not the one who gets flashes of a memory, only glimpses of a blank history. You have all the answers.”

“I didn’t abandon you after the accident. Your mother moved you from Montréal to the outskirts of
Manhattan
. She threatened to press charges of stalking if we tried to contact you.”

“We?”

“Yes, Blake and myself.”

“Blake and you! Oh, my God, did I have sex with both of you?” His cheeks flushed, and she held her ground. “Oh, my God,” she said a second time. “What kind of woman was I, two lovers at the same time? Didn’t you want me full time?

“Of course I did, and I was as jealous of the time you spent with Blake as he was of our time together. That was your decision. You told Blake and me that you weren’t a one-man woman, and you’d decide between us eventually. Either we accepted your ways of part-time or we’d get nothing at all.”

“Didn’t you think you deserved more?”

“Yes, but you were very convincing and extraordinarily sensual. At that time I’d rather have had half of you than none at all.”

“And Blake made the third.”

“Yes.”

“He accepted my demands, too?”

“He’s younger than me, more open, he didn’t want to lose half of you either. He called you his erotic muse for his painting.”

“Paintings, he’s an artist!” It was a statement of recollections, not a question.

* * * *

She knew he watched her wander around the room, was taking in each movement, but her nerves were on edge and she couldn’t sit still. Eventually she forced herself to calm, choosing a sofa near the garden door. Maris knew this was significant in some way, and she gravitated to the position.

“What will help you remember, Maris? I know this is overwhelming, but in reality, you decided the timing. By letting your mother take control she kept us away.” He sighed, adding, “We wanted to bring you home sooner, but Blake and I accepted her warnings. She was a very intimidating woman, and we both wanted what was ultimately best for you. We wanted our Maris back, with memories of all the times we’d shared.”

“Did my mother know I was having an affair with both of you?”

“We never worded it that way, just that we were both close to you and wanted to renew that closeness.”

“She wouldn’t allow it?”

“She made it clear she had other plans for your future,” he said, laughing only a bit at the irony.

She waited while he refilled their glasses, obviously waiting for her to question him rather than proceed on his own.

“Have we met since the accident?”

“Not since before the incident.” Her hands fisted at her sides, anger welling at another instance she couldn’t change.

“Don’t get angry,” he added, seeing the glare in her eyes. “This is important, and I’m sure you’re confused. This is our future together, it’s important to both of us. It’s just that I’ve waited so long to see you again.”

“But you didn’t own the Chateau then, did you? I get the impression I worked here and brought you and Blake here on occasion.”

“That’s right. You were reworking the gardens for the old owner. He wasn’t around much, gave you a free hand as long as the gardens were upgraded. I moved to
Lake Placid
that summer to be close to you. You installed Blake in town, too, seeing us both at your whim.”

“Quite frankly, Nathan, I don’t believe you stood for that kind of treatment.”

“You have an amazing spirit, Maris. One that made men long to spend time with you, in bed and out.”

“I don’t know that woman.”

“Yes, you do, you’re her, and your mother just repressed all of your kindness and spirit, taking away your individuality. She made you meek and afraid.”
 

She glared at him but gave no verbal answer. Her lack of agreement was her answer.

“Yes, but I can see this is too much too soon. What do you remember of your mother?”

“Margo? She was kind sometimes, but often moody, not a genius with money or men. I think I thought she had PMS all the time and she should have gotten hormone therapy to improve her moods.”

He laughed outright. “I’m sure that didn’t go over well.”

“We were similar in coloring and height. I do have memories of two distinct personalities. Before the accident, she was almost lackadaisical, and after she was always on edge, on guard somehow. In addition, she had me very late in life. I always wondered why she didn’t have children earlier. She’d be seventy now. I’m thirty, so she was forty when I came along.”

“Maris, she tried very hard to have a child, you.” Nathan hesitated before continuing, choosing his words carefully. “Blake and I learned a lot about your childhood after the accident. It wasn’t her choice really, fate has its ways. What else do you remember from your younger days?”

Maris accepted that he was asking for a reason, to jog her memory, so she went along. “My father left when I was an infant. I have no memory of him, didn’t even before the accident. I don’t think they ever married, I don’t remember any talk of divorce, instead he just slipped away and she let him go. He never contacted us or me again. I’ve never looked for him. I don’t remember him, only that mother refused to discuss him with me. My childhood seemed normal to me. However, as soon as I left for university, she remarried with no warning. I didn’t know Walter Garnett existed, or that she was dating him. I came home for my first vacation, and they were married.”

“What else?” he prompted.

“I had just turned twenty, and yes, I’d lost two semesters of schooling to a skiing accident in high school, so I was a few years behind. My stepfather wasn’t thrilled with my existence. I was just baggage for him to care for. His children were well into their thirties when he married Margo. We never met until after they eloped. I always got the impression he’d thought I’d be different, but I’m not sure how or why.”

“Did she marry for love?”

“I don’t think so, I always assumed it was for financial security.”

“And your stepfather?”

“Walter, he always looked at me with a wary eye. I learned early to stay in the shadows and when called forward to smile and be polite. We found our own level of existence. I only came home for the holidays.”

“Your stepbrother and stepsister, how did they treat you?”

“Me and mom like a plague their father brought home. She apparently was nothing like their mother, and they never let her forget it. I suppose they understood he wanted a sexual outlet and companion after their mother’s death, but they couldn’t figure out why he chose Margo. But, with her, I came into their circle. They didn’t want anything to do with a stepsister reminding them of the situation.”

Before he could prompt her she went on. “You know all about it, don’t you? You wanted my perspective, that’s how I see it.”

“This isn’t therapy, Maris, just relax and tell me about yourself.”

Maris sipped at her wine, choosing her words. “We managed to get along for the first year. They’d see their father away from the house. On holidays, we all smiled and played nice until our cheeks hurt, and then I went back to school.” She didn’t add the details of nerve-wracking shared meals and holidays. She learned to dread Sunday suppers and tried to make excuses. “They started to turn him against Margo and then me. We were a costly intrusion into their family, and they felt he should rectify his mistake and find another companion. I overheard them in the living room one Sunday afternoon. Later, I decided I was meant to hear their discussion. Then they didn’t have to say the words to my face.”

“You keep referring to her as Margo instead of Mom?”

“That was their idea, my stepbrother, Nelson and stepsister, Robin. When Margo and Walter married, they thought it would be a smoother transition into their social circle if I wasn’t calling for my mother all the time. Their words, not mine or hers.”

“What did she think?”

“I realize now she was resigned to being a peacekeeper between us. Anything not to ruffle certain people’s feathers, namely my stepfather or his children, or any of his friends. She tried hard to keep up with what they thought appropriate behavior and style, but ultimately it didn’t matter. They’d never accept her no matter who she became.”

“Then what?”

“You know already. Why make me say it aloud? Do you think talking about her will make me remember?”

“I’m only trying to learn more about who you’ve become since our last meeting.”

“I’m more curious why you would wait five years for any woman. Why put your life on hold for what? Only half my affections? And what made Blake do the same thing?”

“We both have our reasons.”

“You’ve obviously struck some kind of bargain with him. What draws two completely different men to stand and wait, what don’t I know?”

“We know less than you. One day we were lovers with passion and conviction. The next you were forbidden, completely unreachable. When your mother’s lawyers intervened, we backed off.”

“Does Blake know I’m here tonight?”

“Yes, we agreed to give each other some private time for you to get to know us, so you’d make an informed decision.”

“To decide between you two. You make it sound like deciding which coat to wear in the morning or what to make for supper. Don’t you both deserve more than that?”

“Yes, but ultimately me rushing in and taking you away before you have your memories wouldn’t be fair.”

“Nothing is going to get accomplished until I remember about us and I get Blake’s version.”

“Don’t forget about your mother. She took you away so you wouldn’t remember us, wouldn’t choose one of us over her in her old age.”

“What, you think she kept me away from you so she’d have a nurse as she got older?” Maris sipped the wine in her glass and put it aside.

“Let’s get back to your history. Continue on about Walter and his children.”

She drew a breath and turned to look out the glass window before starting. “Things turned when he started calling her a bitch, then a witch. His kids decided she was truly a witch, like a Salem-born witch with powers they were afraid of.” She gave a slight laugh. “I always wondered if she was a witch, why she didn’t provide better for us. Why not use her powers to make our lives better without having to rely on a man to provide for us?”

“Not all witches have the same powers.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” She laughed and watched Nathan finally relax. Maris figured he was waiting for her to explode in anger or throw a fit of some kind. She wasn’t in the mood. Anger took too much energy and she wanted to remember more about herself.