Anne Hampson Not Far from Heaven [MB 915] (pdf)

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She had tried, she had to admit, feeling she
ought to hate him, to condemn him, and to
feel contempt for him. None of these
emotions formed any part of what she felt for
Damos; on the contrary, she was as ever
profoundly aware of her debt to him, of her
gratitude that he had taken her from the
place where she had been so discontented
and unhappy - and where, but for him, she
would still be now, a nervous wreck, no
doubt, since every waking moment would
have been filled with feverish impatience as
she waited for her memory to return. She
would virtually have been a prisoner, helpless
in the hands of those whose authority she
would have been forced to accept.
Yes, this debt had emerged from all else; it
glowed like a light, reminding her to balance
it alongside everything she had against him -
the fraud, the evasions, the deceit.
`Your coffee, Mr. Damos.' Theo's pleasant
voice cut through her thoughts as, having
carried out the tray, he placed it on the table,
which he then brought into the space
between the chairs occupied by Mary and
Damos. `I have brought cream for you, Mrs.
Damos,' he added before, with a slight
inclination of his head that was a sign of
respect, he silently withdrew.
It was pleasant and relaxing to sit out on the
patio so late at night, drinking coffee and
chatting together. Mary knew that so simple a
life as she had lived since coming here would
suit her admirably. She sometimes wondered
about the reason for this profound desire for
peace, and
had reached the conclusion that, prior to the
accident, there must have been something
more than a little hectic about her life. She
had certainly made up for it, though, as, not
having any work to do at all, she had had the
opportunity of relaxing to her heart's content.
`You're very quiet, Mary.' Damos's soft
voice came to her; she could not help but
notice the gentle edge to it, and the faint hint
of anxiety as he added, `If you're tired, my
dear, take your coffee and drink it in bed.'
She shook her head instantly.
`I'd rather stay here,' she told him. `It's
peaceful and - and ...' She allowed her voice
to trail away to a rather embarrassed silence
as she realized she had been going to end
her sentence with the word romantic - a word
grossly out of place between two people
placed as they were.
`And what?' came the question she had
expected. Damos was pouring the coffee; she
watched his careful handling of the cream jug
as he made sure that the cream remained
floating on the top of the coffee. `You were
about to say something else?
'It was nothing important, Damos.'
`No?' with a slanting glance as he stopped
what he was doing for a second or two.
She shook her head, accepting the coffee
that he handed to her.
He paused before putting his own cup to his
lips, watching her closely and with a hint of a
frown appearing on his forehead. She met his
gaze calmly enough, but within her a fine
sword point was turning somewhere near her
heart, for hope had died suddenly, quite
without reason, and she found it impossible
to picture any future, with this man whom
she had learned so easily to love.
`Is something wrong?' he asked, and his
tones carried a note of deep concern. `Is - I
mean - have you had any evidence that your
memory might be returning?'
She almost gave a start at this apparent
miracle of per-
ception, but she managed to suppress it.
Unable to look him in the face and lie, she
lowered her eyelids; her long lashes, dark and
curling against the pallor of her cheeks, gave
her a sort of ethereal beauty of which her
companion was potently aware.
`N-no ... No, I h-haven't ' She was confused,
but fear was her chief emotion. If he thought
her memory was returning he might then
begin making arrangements for her return to
her own country. `It's early yet, Damos,' she
added quiveringly, and with a tremor of
pleading in her voice of which she herself was
unaware but which left Damos extremely
puzzled. `I d-don't know why you should think
my - my memory is beginning to come back.'
She glanced up finally, and saw the strang
unfathomable expression in his half-closed
eyes. She felt he was perceptively
experiencing all that occupied her own mind.
It was a frightening sensation to have, but it
was there. For Damos's black eyes had
several times before struck her as
exceedingly far-seeing, and now, as they
looked out at her from between those
narrowed lids, she was more than a little
afraid that he knew she was lying. And if this
were so, he must surely wonder why she
should lie, especially as she had on so many
occasions strained at the bonds that held
memory from her, ex-pressing the wish that it
would soon return.
He said at last, the most odd inflection in his
voice,
`Promise me, Mary, that you will inform me
immediately you get a sign that your memory
is being restored.' He looked directly at her,
his eyes commanding that she make no
attempt to avoid them. `Promise me. It's
important.'
Important ... So that he could then make
plans for her? - plans that in no way included
himself, or this house? Perhaps he was
impatient to return to his old home. As he
loved it so much it was only to be expected
that he would be anxious to take up
residence there again
with the minimum amount of delay. Rita
could not force him to let her have that most
beautiful and palatial house now that her hold
on him was no longer effective, so she would
have to leave and take whatever he provided
as an alternative.
Damos was still fixing Mary with that direct [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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