Rafferty's Legacy (11 page)

He frowned thoughtfully. 'All part and parcel of what's happened,' he explained. 'You see, Teresa, the brain's a very complex instrument, and emotions play the devil with it. This headache is caused by your rejection of the memories that are trying to come back.' He held up a hand at her startled look at this disclosure, and went on before she could protest that she wasn't consciously suppressing the past. 'Without realising it,' he said gently, 'things build up. Grief takes its toll. You'd have done far better to give way to it, you know. As it was, you stifled it.' He gave her a considering look. 'For a girl who had just lost her family, and then her fiancé, you took it all a little too calmly. I have it from your uncle that he never saw you cry.'

Teresa's eyes left the doctor's kindly ones, and she looked down at the desk in front of her. So he knew the whole of it; of course he would have to, wouldn't he? she told herself dully.

'It's a very small town,' he went on, still in that

gentle voice that told her that he knew what she was thinking. 'I brought a fair number of the folk in this town into the world, and there's not much I don't get to know about, some time or other.'

Her gaze centred on her fingers clenched tightly together in her lap. 'Of course,' she murmured in a low voice.

Now don't worry about it,' soothed the doctor. 'We'll let old mother nature take care of things. Only when you're good and read,y will the puzzle fall into place. There's just one thing, though,' he added, his eyes studying the blotting pad on his desk. 'I want you to think very carefully before you commit yourself in any way—leave things as they are until you're back to normal again,' he advised her solemnly.

His pale blue eyes met Teresa's startled ones, and she was in no doubt as to what he meant. He had said he knew everything, hadn't he? Was this Carl's doing? she wondered.

Again the doctor correctly interpreted her thoughts, and gave her a wry smile. 'You don't want to listen to the local gossip,' he said in a half-amused tone, 'a lot of it is envy. If a man's wealthy, they call him lucky. It never occurs to them to think how he came by his wealth—or that he had to work for what he has. Given the same opportunities most of them would fail, simply because they hadn't the know-how, or couldn't be bothered to learn it; those are the ones that call themselves unlucky.'

Teresa knew that it was Carl Elton the doctor was talking about. Did her uncle come under the heading of the envious ones or the 'unlucky' ones? she

wondered. Unhappily, she had to admit the truth of that. It echoed more or less what Carl had said about the Raffertys' troubles being caused mainly by mismanagement, using the feud as a scapegoat for their failures.

Doctor Turnbull got up and patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly way. 'There's always. two sides to an argument, Teresa. I'm only saying, don't do anything you might regret later. Give yourself plenty of time.'

It was all very well, thought Teresa miserably as she left the surgery a little while later, for the doctor to tell her not to worry, particularly after having told her that she alone held the key to her recovery.

All the answers were there, she thought bitterly, shrouded in her subconscious because she hadn't been able to face reality. Was she such a weak character, then? Or was it grief alone that had caused the rejection, as the doctor had said? She would have liked to have believed that, but she couldn't be certain, for there was a thin dividing line between grief and unhappiness, and if it was the latter, then it left a lot of unexplained events to be accounted for.

WHEN Michael collected Teresa later that day to take her to Bathurst, she was in two minds as to whether or not to go, and was very tempted to plead a headache and call the whole thing off. But when she saw his cheery grin and his unconcealed pleasure at the prospect of spending an evening with her, she hadn't the heart to cry off.

As they drove to their destination she sat gazing out at the twinkling lights of the township in the distance, and her thoughts were not on the evening ahead, but still revolved on the morning's disclosures. It had not been easy for her to accept the fact that the answer for her dilemma lay in her own two hands, and if so, just what could she do about it? Receive yet another bump on the head? Her soft lips twisted wryly at the thought. Of course she could do exactly what the doctor had advised, and let nature take its course, which was easier said than done. What if she never regained her memory? She sighed deeply. It was an extremely depressing thought.

'A penny for them,' Michael remarked lightly. 'Or are you going all mysterious ovine again?'

Teresa sensed an underlying meaning in his words, and for the first time wondered if Michael thought that she was using her loss of memory to save face where Carl was concerned. Her uncle

wouldn't have been slow to state his views on the subject. But then Carl had thought so too, she recalled wearily. 'I saw the doctor today,' she said quietly. 'I was just thinking about what he told me.'

Michael glanced swiftly at her before returning his gaze to the road again. 'I don't know what you're worried about, Teresa,' he said soothingly. 'Everyone knows how it is. You've had a rotten deal all round.' He negotiated a bend, and drove the car into a parking area at the back of a large hotel. 'I should forget it if I were you. Just enjoy yourself. Did Elton try to talk you round?' he queried casually.

The question, though lightly asked, was not an idle one, and Teresa knew he had been waiting for an opportunity to bring the subject up. 'It wasn't a case of talking me round,' she answered despondently. 'It was more a case of introducing himself to me.'

Her voice was so low, and so weary that Michael, pulling up into the first space he came across, leaned over and patted her hand. 'Poor sweet,' he said consolingly. 'Well, it's over now. Promise me you won't give it another thought. We're going to enjoy ourselves tonight—and not only tonight,' he tacked on meaningly as he met her eyes, then seeing the doubt in hers he squeezed her hand tightly. 'You'll see,' he said quietly. 'This is only the start.'

'Michael—I can't promise anything,' she said swiftly. 'You do realise that, don't you?' she pleaded.

'I'm willing to risk it,' Michael replied gently, 'whatever happens.'

Teresa's spirits were at a low ebb as she allowed

herself to be guided into the hotel foyer. Michael was too nice a person to be hurt, and she only hoped to be able to keep him at a distance until she knew the state of her heart.

A little while later, after a delicious meal of iced melon, followed by rainbow trout with all the trimmings, with a little wine, Teresa felt more able to relax and push her worries out of her mind. Michael was right; she had gone through a bad time, and continually nagging at the problem wouldn't make things any easier: Answers never came when you pushed them, did they? she reminded herself. And how often did one get the answer to something they had worried about for ages, at a time when least expected? So she would forget her troubles, for this one night at least, and go ahead and enjoy

herself.

She had just reached this decision when Michael asked her to dance, and she gladly accepted. The music, like the meal, was good; no canned tapes here, but a small band which played each number and gave an encore when requested by the appreciative dancers.

Teresa wasn't sure, but she thought the dance was a foxtrot, and after taking the first few tentative steps found that she was a good dancer, and was elated at the discovery. Michael was good, too, and she let herself relax completely in his arms as they circled the floor. If his hold was a little on the close side, she did not demur. Why should she? She liked Michael very much, and told herself dreamily that she might even fall in love with him.

It happened when the music changed to a soft

haunting melody that seemed to stab at her very heart. For a moment or so she closed her eyes, and stumbled slightly. Michael's arms tightened around her. 'Are you all right?' he asked anxiously.

Teresa could not speak, but nodded dumbly. Her head began to ache with an intensity she had not experienced before, and as Michael led her off the dance floor she found herself wanting to scream out at the band to stop playing that tune.

After seating her back at their table, Michael caught the eye of a waiter and ordered a brandy for her.

'What is it, Teresa?' he asked worriedly, noting that her complexion was as white as her dress.

She shook her head; she couldn't tell him—not at that moment. She was too full of the discovery she had made a few seconds ago, for then she thought she had been in someone else's arms; a tall, fair man whom she had loved with all her heart—Carl Elton!

Now that it was out, Teresa knew a sense of peace. Her head no longer ached, only her heart, and it felt as if it were slowly breaking. Carl, it whispered. 'How could I have forgotten?' she asked herself silently.

Her fingers gripped her napkin hard; she had to leave, for other memories were crowding in on her, and she needed to be alone to accept them. `I've a headache, Michael,' she said quietly. `I'm sorry to break the evening up so early, but do you think we could go?'

Teresa never really remembered getting home

that evening. She quite purposely refused to think about anything except allaying Michael's fears that she was ill, and somehow managing to convey to him that she only had a headache, which after all might have been expected, considering that it was the first time she had spent an evening out since her accident.

She must have proved her point to him, for after attempting to make a date with her for the following day and having been gently refused on the excuse that she needed a rest, he had accepted her refusal with an equanimity that had made her want to hug him, and saying that he would look forward to their next date, he saw her into the chalet.

The following morning, Teresa awoke to a day that no longer held confusing side issues. Bit by bit, the past had slipped into place. She clearly remembered her old home, but more precious than that, she remembered her mother and brother, and had a curious sensation that they were very close to her. She hugged this thought to herself in grateful remembrance, praying that she would never ever find herself suspended in limbo again, not knowing, or being able to care about those who had loved her.

Her thoughts inevitably turned to Carl—not the pompous, overbearing man he had appeared to be, but to the man she knew; a warm, loving, and understanding personality. The one who had lifted her out of her misery and into the realms of light.

A tiny teardrop glistened on her lashes as she recalled what she had said to him not twenty-four hours ago, asking him what right he had to interfere

in her life. 'Every right?' she whispered to the silent room.

She could even remember the night of the party and the ensuing events, and sighed as she recalled his apology for what had happened. She now knew the reason why she had walked out on him that night. She had thought he did not love her, and she hadn't been able to bear it.

A slow smile quirked the corners of her full lips—but he did love her ! So much so that he had been willing to uproot himself from the home he loved, just to take her out of the firing line.

Teresa's thoughts roamed on, and she visualised her uncle's reaction to what he would consider her change of heart. But what did he know of her and Carl? He was so wrapped up in the past that he couldn't see that people change, and life moves on.

She frowned. Was it really necessary for them to go up north? Was it Uncle Patrick who was the fly in the ointment? The thought brought a smile to her lips. Well, she could handle Uncle Patrick! He wasn't going to be allowed to carry on this stupid rearguard action any longer—and as for Carl She closed her eyes. 'I'll make it up to you, my darling,' she whispered, 'and you won't have to uproot yourself,' she promised fervently.

After a quick shower she dressed in a blouse and jeans, and eyeing her meagre wardrobe, wished she had the rest of her clothes there so that she could have worn one of her special dresses for the date with Carl that evening, but as it was the rest of her luggage was still at Sunset Ridge, and she only had what

she had been able to bring with her on that fateful evening when she had walked out on him.

When she was ready Teresa went in search of her uncle; the sooner he knew she would be marrying Carl, the better. At the thought of the wedding, she stopped dead in her tracks. Carl had said ten
days, and that was two days ago !
That left not much more than a week for her to prepare her trousseau! She gasped, then suddenly remembered that Carl had bought her her wedding dress before they left England. He had wanted no hitch in the wedding arrangements, for they were to be married at Sunset Ridge, and she recalled his teasing comments at the time. 'There won't be any time for shopping, my love. I intend to show you over the property before the great day, and that will take up most of our time. There's so much I want to show you.'

Her steps almost broke into a dance as she continued on her way. Life was wonderful! Oh, how she wished Carl had made an earlier date with her; seven o'clock seemed aeons away.

She slowed up. Ought she to ring him? Her eyes sparkled; of course she would! She ought to have thought of that before