Pale Dawn Dark Sunset Page 11

  “I don’t like it here!” declared Lucy tremulously.

  She was looking at the high mountains all about them with obvious unease, and her fingers plucked nervously at the material of her dress. Her agitation drew Miranda’s attention from the excited observation of her surroundings and her brows drew together in a frown. Had this been Rafael’s intention in bringing them here? Had he thought that Lucy might be frightened here—might be shocked into remembering some other canyon, some other mountain?

  “I want to go back to the monastery,” insisted Lucy, pushing her thumb into her mouth, a gesture which Miranda recognised with a pang. If there had been any lingering doubt in her mind that the child was Lucy, that gesture would have banished it. Susan expended more time and more angry words in trying to dissuade Lucy from sucking her thumb than any other habit she had developed.

  “Don’t be silly, Lucy,” she said now, putting her arm round the little girl and in so doing accidentally brushing Rafael’s shoulder with her fingers. He flinched from her touch and she quickly withdrew her arm and contented herself with taking Lucy’s hands. “Darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Raf—Don Rafael knows what he is doing. There’s no danger.”

  “I just don’t like it here,” maintained Lucy tearfully. “It’s so—so lonely.”

  “You are not alone, Lucia,” said Rafael briefly, giving all his attention to bringing the Landrover to a halt on a small promontory overhanging the lake. “See! We are here! Are you not going to paddle in the shallows?”

  Lucy looked at him uneasily. “Is—is it deep?” she asked, controlling her tears with evident difficulty.

  Rafael swung down from the Landrover and leaning in lifted the child out, too. “Come!” he said. “I will show you, si? With me you will have no fear, no?”

  When Rafael chose to exert the charm which as yet Miranda had only experienced directed towards his mother and sisters, no one, not even Lucy, could remain aloof. Below the jutting plateau of rock, a steeply sloping footway gave access to the shores of the small lake. It was slippery now after all the rain, but Rafael was clearly used to negotiating its uneven surface and he carried Lucy down confidently before coming back to help Miranda. He held out his hand to assist her, and Miranda put hers into it, but her feet gave way below her at the first step and she lost her balance and slithered down the muddy incline to his feet.

  If Rafael found the picture of her, mud-splashed and embarrassed, amusing, he hid it very well and advised her not to try and brush the mud away but wait until it dried when it would flake off very easily.

  Down here in the canyon, it was much warmer, and the sun glinted on the water invitingly. Miranda wished she had had a bathing suit to bring with her, but she had not expected to need such garments. Instead, she walked with Lucy to the water’s edge and marvelled at the tiny spring which shed its warmth into the pool. The unusual heat generated by the water was responsible for the luxuriant growth of flowers and trees, but Miranda couldn’t help considering that in such tropical surroundings all manner of insect life would flourish, too.

  Lucy’s initial suspicion and uneasiness gave way to enthusiasm as she kicked off one small sandal and dipped a delicate toe into the water. “It is warm! It’s really warm!” she exclaimed, and Miranda hid the disappointment which came from the realisation that that momentary awareness of something terrible which had happened to her had vanished once more into the inner regions of Lucy’s mind.

  Rafael brought a rubber sheet down from the Landrover and spread it on the ground. Then he stretched his length upon it, clearly disposed to leave Miranda to deal with Lucy. But Lucy was more interested in exploring, and after an awkward look at Rafael, Miranda followed her on a partial circumnavigation of the lake. She tried to tell herself that every moment spent in Lucy’s company was a moment nearer the truth, but she hadn’t a lot of confidence in that supposition.

  For a while Lucy was content to examine the purple and white orchids which grew on the trunks of the trees near the water’s edge, exclaiming every now and then when some new specimen caught her eye. Lizards scuttled away at their approach, and once a long snake uncoiled itself and slid away into the tall grass. This latter encounter unnerved Miranda sufficiently to consider shouting to Rafael; but he had closed his eyes, and in any case, Lucy dismissed her fears nonchalantly by saying that Father Esteban had told her to be beware of the smaller, poisonous vipers and the more obvious rattlesnake. Overhead, birds kept up a constant chatter at this intrusion into their privacy, and had it not been for the more serious aspects of the situation Miranda would have been entranced herself.

  As it was, she felt a vague resentment that having brought them here Rafael should so indifferently abandon his responsibility. And yet what could he say? It was up to her, Miranda, to make some effort, no matter how small. Brushing a careless hand over her hips and then uttering an irritated exclamation at the forgotten mud which came away on her fingers, she was encouraged by Lucy’s giggles at her annoyance. Rubbing her hands together, she said quietly: “Don’t you remember me at all, Lucy?”

  Lucy glanced quickly away. “No.”

  Miranda sighed. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. Oh—look! Isn’t that a beautiful butterfly! What do you think it’s called?”

  Miranda cast an impatient look at the butterfly. “I don’t know. A red admiral or something,” she answered uncaringly, mentioning the name of the first butterfly that came into her head. “Lucy, don’t you want to remember?”

  “It’s not a red admiral,” stated Lucy definitely. “They’re much smaller and they have sort of black and white markings near the tops of their wings.”

  “I don’t particularly care what a red admiral looks like,” retorted Miranda. “Lucy, when we came down here, you remembered something, didn’t you? Something that frightened you?” Then she halted abruptly. “How do you know what a red admiral looks like?”

  Lucy raised her small eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

  “Lucy, red admirals are not found in South America—in Mexico, that is—they’re found in Europe. Doesn’t that prove to you that what I’m telling you is the truth? How would you know about English butterflies unless you had lived in England—unless you were English?”

  Lucy turned away. “I probably read about it somewhere,” she said, shrugging her small shoulders.

  “Oh, Lucy!”

  Lucy glanced reluctantly round at her and Miranda could see her lips were trembling. “I don’t know who I am, I truly don’t. But even if I am who you say I am, I still want to stay with Tio Juan!” And she stumbled away kicking stones.

  Miranda felt a wave of inadequacy sweep over her. It was too much for her. She simply couldn’t handle this alone. She didn’t know how. She had never had to deal with an amnesiac before. How could she be expected to know what to do—what to say? Anger rose in her throat, and because there was no one else to direct it against she left Lucy to her explorations and walked quickly back to where Rafael was lying. She stood looking down at him impatiently, unwillingly aware of the latent attraction he held for her. But as though he had become aware of her scrutiny his eyes flickered open.

  With an exclamation in his own language, he sprang to his feet. “Si, señorita?”

  Miranda’s lips pursed angrily. “I want to ask you something, señor. Has anyone—any doctor, that is—seen the child?”

  Rafael frowned. “But of course. Doctor Rodrigues—”

  “I don’t mean some general practitioner!” she exclaimed, interrupting him scornfully. “I’m talking about a specialist! Someone specialising in amnesia and allied disturbances.”

  “I do know what a specialist is, señorita,” he remarked mildly, and she could feel her cheeks reddening in spite of herself. “And yes, my brother brought a Doctor Delgado out from Mexico City several weeks ago.”

  “And what was his diagnosis?”

  Rafael moved his shoulders. “I gather he expressed the opinion that i
t is only a matter of time before she recovers her memory.”

  “You gather—” Miranda clenched her fists. “But you said you were a doctor! Didn’t you discuss it with him?”

  “Pardon me, señorita, I did not say I was a doctor.”

  “You said you were entitled to put M.D. after your name!” she declared indignantly.

  “I am.” Rafael spread his hands. “But I am no specialist, señorita.”

  Miranda shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But you must have an opinion. I—I don’t know what to do.”

  She could hear the break in her voice and turned angrily away. The very last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of him. Just because of what Lucy had said she must not begin to feel defeated. She was the child’s guardian, not Juan Cueras.

  “Señorita, as I said before, you do not give this time,” he commented quietly.

  “I don’t have the time!” she retorted in a muffled voice.

  “Then perhaps you should think again.” Rafael sounded impatient now. “Señorita, you came here to find a child who for four months has lived in our valley—has shared our community life—has become accustomed to our ways. In one week—two weeks—you expect to change all this. I tell you, it is too soon, too quick! She cannot possibly be expected to accept such a drastic change of circumstances without protest. If she had recognised you, of course—”

  “But she didn’t, did she?” Tears stung Miranda’s eyes as she turned back to him. “So what am I supposed to do? Take—I don’t know—four months to convince her she is who I say she is? I can’t. I don’t have the time, or—or the money.”

  Rafael shrugged his broad shoulders. “I agree, it is a difficult situation.”

  “Difficult? Difficult?“ Miranda could hear her voice rising, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s impossible! Every time I try to talk to her she seems to put up a mental block against me. I don’t know what to say to her to win her confidence. Can’t you help me? You have some experience. Please!”

  Impulsively, she stretched out her hand and gripped his tanned forearm. His flesh was cool beneath her moist fingers and she had an urgent desire to move even closer to him as though by creating a physical intimacy she could arouse a mental affinity between them. He was so adept at remaining aloof, but right now she needed his sympathy.

  But her momentary hopes were shattered when he wrenched his arm out of her grasp and stepped back away from her. “I can do nothing,” he declared in a harsh voice, and when her eyes were drawn irresistibly to his taut face she was shocked by the expression in his dark eyes. She could almost believe he hated her, and her fragile hopes of his assistance splintered. She moved her head helplessly. She had known her company irritated him, but until now she had not realised how much.

  “I—I’m sorry.” she got out tremulously. “I—I should have known better than to appeal to any member of—of the Cueras family!”

  A spasm of pain twisted his face. “Do not say that! It is not true. I would help you if I could, but I cannot.”

  Miranda’s lips curled contemptuously. “Would you? Why? You obviously despise me. I can’t imagine why unless you, as well as your brother, have some reason for wanting Lucy here.”

  “My feelings are not to do with your niece, señorita,” stated Rafael coldly. “Por dios, why can you not accept that in my opinion you are rushing things? Stay awhile. I have told you my mother will accommodate you.”

  Miranda thrust her thumbs into the low belt of her jeans, “I do not enjoy staying at the hacienda,” she declared unsteadily. “And in any case, I have to get back to England. Just because your sisters and your mother can afford to do nothing all their lives it does not mean that everyone shares that same position—or would want to. As a matter of fact, I—I enjoy my work. And I don’t want to lose my job.”

  Rafael’s fingers closed over the medallion which rested on his chest. “Then there is nothing more to be said.”

  “Isn’t there?” Miranda looked at him angrily. “Do you honestly believe your brother will allow me to take Lucy without a struggle?”

  “Father Esteban will see that my brother does what is best for the child, señorita,” stated Rafael stiffly.

  “How ambiguous! And what do you think he will decide? How can my modest apartment compare with the undoubted opulence of the hacienda? Father Esteban depends upon your brother’s good will for his livelihood, doesn’t he? We all have to live, señor.”

  “Do not be bitter, señorita. The situation will resolve itself. Situations always do.”

  “I wish I could believe that.” Miranda stared unhappily across the lake to where Lucy was squatting on some rocks trailing her fingers in the water. “Oh, God I wish—I wish—”

  She halted uncertainly. What did she wish? That she had never come here? That there had never been an accident? Oh, that, of course. But had there been no occasion for her to visit the valley of the Lima she would never have met Rafael Cueras, and in spite of everything that was a circumstance she would not have avoided. But why? Why? He had no time for her—indeed, he despised her. And on those odd occasions when she had imagined she felt a certain awareness between them he had quickly dispelled it by his coldness and his rejection of anything approaching intimacy. What had Carla meant by that cruel statement that Rafael was not interested in women? It wasn’t true—it couldn’t be true…

  She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she wasn’t immediately aware that Rafael had left her until she heard the trill of Lucy’s laughter across the water and saw Rafael squatting beside her, pointing at something they could both see beneath the surface. A pain tore at her stomach and she sank down on to the rubber groundsheet, legs crossed, chin resting on her knuckles. What was there about her that he disliked so much? she asked herself miserably. Why, when he could be so charming to his mother and sisters, so gentle with Lucy, so polite and considerate to the people of the valley, did he continually treat her like a leper? Even if the attraction was all on her side, and even if she did irritate him, surely he could at least be civil to her! She wondered what he was saying to Lucy now, what was causing the child’s mouth to tremble with laughter, her cheeks to turn pink with enjoyment. Was he telling her that she had nothing to worry about? That her aunt wouldn’t dream of taking her from the valley by force? And that even if she tried to do so, her two adopted uncles would be there to stop her?

  Miranda looked down at her toes. She felt ashamed of her thoughts. She had no reason, no reason at all, to suppose that Rafael was playing a double game. On the contrary, he had gone out of his way to give her this time alone with the child. Just because she had made no good use of it was not his fault.

  She looked up and saw that the others had left the lake and were climbing the rocks at the far side of the canyon, Rafael giving Lucy his hand to haul her up beside him. Miranda pressed her lips together, trying not to feel envious. He could not have made it more obvious that he did not desire her company and she could only hope that what he was saying to the child would in some way encourage her to have more faith in others beside Juan. But again, she had no part in it, and the immense sense of loneliness she felt was magnified a hundred times.

  Getting to her feet, she walked along the lakeside, deliberately ignoring Rafael and Lucy. A rotten tree trunk was lying half into the water, its roots torn up and spongy with termite holes. No delicate orchids adorned its stem, even the parasitic plant life knew it was dead. Miranda kicked carelessly at the trunk getting a certain amount of relief from causing her pain. But when an enormous black beetle emerged and paused for a moment, seemingly looking at her, she couldn’t suppress a shiver.

  With a grimace she turned away and as she did so she saw floating out on the lake, half hidden by the rotten trunk of the tree, an enormous waterlily. The beetle had disappeared now and without hesitation she climbed on to the spongy trunk and walked carefully along its length. Squatting down, she reached for the blossom, but without warning her weight c
aused the trunk to shift slightly and she pitched forward into the lake.

  She came up gasping, as much from unpleasant dragging sensation caused by her clothes as from actual shock. The water was warm, but she had never swum fully clothed before and the garments were clinging to her.

  In those first few dramatic seconds she was only concerned with making the shallows and was completely unaware that Rafael had observed her plight until he surfaced beside her, shaking the water from his hair.

  “Do not panic!” he exclaimed urgently. “I will help you.”

  “I—I can manage,” protested Miranda, but he ignored her, supporting her head with one hand and swimming strongly back to the side. When they reached the shallows, he allowed her feet to touch the bottom for only a moment while he gained his feet and then he swung her up into his arms again and carried her up the pebbly shore to where he had laid the groundsheet. Miranda felt quite lightheaded at this unexpected turn of events and it was a temptation to pretend a terror she did not feel and put her arms around his neck.

  However, a spasm of coughing caught him unawares and he had to put her down more quickly than she had expected. She stumbled and would have fallen had he not reached out and grasped her arm, but her weight threw them off balance and they fell together, the weight of his body almost knocking the breath out of her.

  “Oh, perdone, señorita,” he muttered automatically thrusting himself up with his hands behind her head, looking down into her startled green eyes.

  “I—I’m all right,” she managed, catching her breath. “You—you haven’t hurt me.”

  Rafael moved his head slowly up and down, but the dark eyes did not move from her face. They lingered on the flushed curve of her cheek, the slanting darkness of her lashes, the parted softness of her mouth. Miranda felt a worse constriction than she had felt before and as he continued to let his body rest on hers she felt the hardening of his thighs and the spreading warmth of desire stirring between them. She wasn’t mistaken this time, and a yielding lethargy entered her limbs.