She stood there in the steaming blast of water until she could stand it no longer, then toweled herself off, staring at her body in the mirror. Still the same long legs and flat stomach. Her waist hadn’t thickened, her smallish breasts hadn’t become tender and swollen. As for missing her period, the surest way of knowing something’s wrong, her memory had only been alive for five days. Her body was as mute to her questions as her mind.
She dressed warmly in one of the long rayon skirts she had bought and a thick knit sweater. She supposed it was some hidden maternal instinct that made her change from pants to dresses as she contemplated motherhood. She looked at the clock and noticed with surprise that it was almost noon. She must have needed the extra sleep.
“Well, well, aren’t you charming-looking this morning,” Lisa Canning’s voice greeted Molly as she walked into the kitchen. Molly turned around without a word and headed out, but Patrick appeared out of nowhere, halting her escape.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
She deliberately misunderstood him. “To the doctor’s,” she said defiantly.
He raised an eyebrow, and much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t avoid noticing the beauty of the man, a beauty that had the power to move her just as bis usual contempt pushed her away.
“Well, you aren’t going immediately, are you? Come in and have some lunch.”
She looked up at him with suspicion of this new affability. “I’m not hungry,” she said mutinously.
“Too bad.” One strong hand went under her arm and she was brought back into the kitchen feeling like a fish caught on a hook.
Lisa smiled at them both with that cool assurance she had in abundance. “There you are, Patrick. I wondered how long it would take you to tear yourself away from your books. And your little wife too. Did I tell you, Molly dear, how charmingly girlish that little outfit is? So country.” She smiled sweetly, and Molly glowered at her in return, yanking her arm away from Patrick’s viselike grip.
“You’re only young once,” she answered her pointedly, flopping down into the rocking chair by the cold fireplace. “How nice of you to come for lunch, Lisa,” she said suddenly. “Where are Aunt Ermy and Uncle Willy? I’m sure they’d be desolated to miss you. Especially since we haven’t seen that much of you recently.”
Lisa flushed, and it was with surprise that Molly realized that she’d inadvertently scored a hit. So Patrick hadn’t been going to see her as often as it appeared. Perhaps that situation wasn’t as much of a sure thing as she had supposed.
“They’ve gone off on a visit,” Patrick said glumly, and Molly’s eyes met his dark blue ones with a tiny shock. He didn’t want Lisa here either. He had forced her in here to protect him. She controlled her wry amusement.
“Really? For how long?”
“Tonight and part of tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”
“But then you and Patrick will be all alone here tonight!” Lisa’s violet eyes were round as she put into words the thought that had been preying on Molly’s mind for the last few moments. “And it’s Mrs. Morse’s evening off.”
She seemed to know more about the domestic arrangements at Winter’s Edge than Molly did. But Molly could afford to be generous. She smiled sweetly. “Oh, that’s all right, Lisa. We are married, you know.”
“I know,” she shot back in a low voice, quietly declaring her enmity. She meant to have him, Molly knew, and Patrick just as definitely wanted to avoid her. Molly discovered her mood had improved substantially.
“Patrick, dear.” Lisa rose gracefully and put one slim, beringed hand on Patrick’s arm. “Do you think we could perhaps go for a ride this afternoon? I have so much I’ve been longing to talk with you about.” Her violet eyes shone in her lovely face, and Molly wondered how any man could withstand her.
“Sorry, Lisa,” Patrick said. “I’m taking Molly to the doctor’s this afternoon.”
“You’re what?” Molly said in horror.
“I told Mrs. Morse I’d take you. It’s her afternoon off and I might as well take on some of my marital responsibilities.”
If Lisa had looked sullen before it was nothing compared to her current expression. Molly would have almost found it entertaining if she weren’t so appalled at the thought of Patrick driving her to her pregnancy test.
“I’d rather have Mrs. Morse with me,” she said faintly. “It’s a female problem.”
If she hoped to embarrass him she failed. “That’s all right, Molly,” he said with callous cheer. “I’m a sensitive New Age kind of guy. I want to be there for you.”
And all she could do was swallow her snarl of disbelief.
The ride to Dr. Turner’s neat little clapboard house was short and uncomfortable. Neither of them said a word, and Molly tried to concentrate on the countryside. It was all just vaguely familiar. Things were coming back in tiny little bits and pieces and the feeling was oddly unsettling. Most of the faint traces of memory were brief and unhappy. She could begin to recall a tiny part of her wedding night, though it all came to her from a great distance. She could remember taking off the white dress and crying, crying. But she couldn’t remember Patrick by her side, taking her into his arms, drying her tears, comforting her. And when she tried to force remembrance it would vanish completely, like a wicked, willful child playing hide-and-seek.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Patrick sounded impatient, and she realized it wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question. They had pulled up in front of the doctor’s office while Molly had been daydreaming.
“No!” she said with a shriek. “I mean, I’m going for a...a female exam and...”
“I believe they’re called a pelvic exam,” he drawled, and she could feel herself flush with embarrassment. Surely a dedicated wanton couldn’t flush? “You need your birth control updated?”
