Every question that she asked Janelle only brought another surge of information that had no connection in the nebulous structure of her mind. Janelle could see that Trish was getting frustrated.
“You’ve had years to learn all this stuff. They tell me that your father used to take you to the office with him when you needed a baby-sitter, and after his death, you practically lived there. If you hadn’t taken Perry in as a partner, you probably would have burned yourself out by now. Maybe it’s time you loosen the reins a little. Why do you have to push yourself so hard?”
“Because I have a past life that is spinning away from me,” she answered, but was relieved when Sasha
interrupted them a few minutes later, advising Trish that she had a visitor.
Could it be Andrew?
Immediately her heart lurched, and she asked eagerly, “Who is it?”
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
Trish groaned, and Janelle made a grimace as she asked, “You want me to get rid of her?”
Trish was tempted to take Janelle up on the offer, but she knew that at the back of her dislike for Darlene was the fear that maybe the woman was right. Maybe there had been something more than business between her and Perry. Could I have been looking for a father figure, and gotten involved with him? she asked herself. Finding the truth might be devastating, but it would free her from the constant burden of guilt about things she didn’t even remember.
“I’d better speak with her,” Trish said reluctantly. “But if you want to come along for moral support I wouldn’t object.”
Darlene was standing at the front windows, looking down at the park below when they entered the living room. She wore a silk dress that hugged every line and curve of her shapely body, and her blond hair looked freshly styled. As she turned around, delicate makeup highlighted her pale blue eyes and enhanced lips.
Instead of the accusing attitude she’d displayed earlier, she smiled at Trish and said in an artificially friendly voice. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was going to call but decided to deliver my invitation in person.”
Invitation?
The word echoed in Trish’s mind like a bomb ready to go off. Was there some affair scheduled that she was committed to attend? She shot a quick
glance at Janelle whose questioning expression indicated that she didn’t know what Darlene was talking about.
“What invitation?” Trish asked, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.
Darlene kept the artificial smile on her painted lips. “After all you’ve been through, Patricia, you deserve some kind of a welcome-back celebration. I’ve arranged everything for an affair at the club. I felt it was the least I could do to show you how grateful we are for your return.
Trish blinked. Incredible! The same woman who had been flinging around all kinds of insinuations about her the last time she was here, now wanted to give her a party. Trish couldn’t believe the audacity of the woman, and apparently neither could Janelle.
“You can’t be serious, Darlene,” Janelle said in disbelief. “Don’t you think a memorial for your missing husband would be more appropriate?”
A hard look darkened Darlene’s blue eyes. “Men who run out on their families aren’t honored with farewell parties. I’m sorry, Patricia, that I accused you of being involved with his despicable disappearing scam. And I want to make it up to you. I’ve already contacted a lot of your friends and acquaintances and they are delighted to have a chance to celebrate your safe homecoming.”
Janelle threw up her hands in disgust. “Did it ever occur to you, Darlene, to run this idea past Patricia before you went ahead and arranged everything?”
“Yes, I thought about it, but I knew that she’d just be shy about having a party in her honor. Don’t you see, just being with all her friends might be the thing to help her remember exactly what happened.
Wouldn’t it be fantastic if the party brought back her memory?” The way she emphasized memory made it clear that she doubted very much that Trish had ever lost hers.
So that’s it. She’s hoping to prove somehow that I’m lying about not remembering anything. She’s setting me up.
Instead of being angry about the obvious subterfuge, Trish was strangely challenged. This might be her chance to prove the truth to everyone.
She gave Darlene the same kind of false sweet smile that she’d been receiving and practically cooed, “I think it’s a lovely idea. Thank you so much, Darlene. How thoughtful of you.”
Janelle looked at Trish as if she had to be kidding. Then she shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
Darlene was obviously delighted with Trish’s ready acceptance, and quickly named the time and place.
“Of course, it will be a formal—a black tie affair.”
“Of course,” Janelle echoed dryly. “And I just bet you have a new gown you’re dying to wear.”
Darlene responded sweetly, “I always enjoying seeing that nice little velveteen gown of yours, Janelle…if you can still get into it.” Then she turned to Trish. “Well, I must run. A hundred things to do. Oh, Patricia, I already talked to Curtis. He’ll be honored to be your escort.”
It was Trish’s turn to shoot mental daggers at her as she waved a flighty hand. “Bye-bye.”
When the door shut behind Darlene, Janelle growled. “I have just one regret, that Perry didn’t strangle that woman before he took off.”
“You really think he arranged his disappearance?”
“Knowing he was married to that woman, you have to ask?”
T
RISH WAS ON EDGE
when she arrived at the clinic for her session with Dr. Duboise later that day. Her steps were quick and her breathing rapid as she approached his office. She felt like someone walking a tightrope.
Her thoughts raced. Had he followed through and compared Patricia Radcliffe’s medical records with those that Havengate had made during Trish’s stay? What if Duboise had found out they didn’t match? Trish realized that it didn’t make sense to question what everyone told her—she was Patricia Radcliffe. Obviously, there wasn’t any doubt in anybody’s mind but hers. Maybe it was pure stubbornness that made her want irrefutable proof. She’d been honest with Dr. Duboise when she told him that being Patricia Radcliffe wasn’t a hundred percent to her liking. Was she subconsciously hoping that there had been a mistake because she was running away from something?
As always, Dr. Duboise welcomed her with his easy, relaxed manner. He seemed especially low-key about the session, and gave her the impression that the folder he held in his hand wasn’t of much importance. Sitting across from her, he smiled, and asked his usual open-ended question, “How is everything going?”
“I’m not sure.” Her eyes went from his placid face to the folder he had laid on his knees. “You tell me. Did you get the medical records?” she asked in a more direct tone than she’d ever shown before.
His eyes held a sparkle of approval as he nodded without comment.
“Well, what did you find out?” Trish demanded
impatiently. “You did compare the physical records, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” he said, watching her closely. “And what do you think they tell us?”
“That I’m not Patricia Radcliffe?” There was a hopeful edge to the question.
“Is that what you want them to prove?”
Her temper flared. “Just tell me! I want to know. Am I Patricia Radcliffe?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him as his answer vibrated in her ears. Her chest suddenly felt as if she’d been clobbered with a ten-pound weight. Trish knew then how desperately she hoped there’d been a mistake about her identity. “There’s no question…no chance of a mix-up?”
“None.”
She leaned back in the chair, and said frankly, “I was hoping that I was someone else.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like what I’m finding out about her life.” She drew in a shaky breath.
“And what are you finding out?”
“I was engaged to marry a man that I don’t even want to be around. Just the thought of him touching me is unpleasant. How could that be? Even if I don’t remember him, some deeper feelings should still be there.”
“Maybe they are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe what you truly felt for him before is still there, minus all the outward influences that might have confused your true emotions.”
“But why would I agree to marry someone that I didn’t really have deep feelings for?”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘deep.’”
“I don’t love him,” she said, flatly. “You told me to trust my own feelings, didn’t you? Well, I don’t think I ever loved him. Apparently I broke off the engagement about a month ago, either because I realized I couldn’t go through with the marriage because of my feelings—or something else happened.”
“And what do you think that might have been?”
She fell silent. There were too many pressures from all sides for her to speculate clearly about anything that might have happened before, or what was happening to her right now. She thought about the feelings she had for Andrew, and she lowered her eyes, not wanting to expose those feelings to Dr. Duboise.
He seemed to sense her reservation, and asked pointedly, “How about the other people in your life? Are you experiencing a little ambivalence toward them, too?”
Trish gave a short laugh. “A little ambivalence? That’s putting it mildly.”
She told him about her unproductive trip to the office, the uncomfortable session with Lieutenant O’Donnel, and Darlene’s plans for a welcome home celebration.
“It’s obvious that the police don’t believe me when I say I know nothing about Perry’s disappearance. I’m not sure they even believe I have amnesia.” She gave him a wry smile. “They must think I’m pretty clever to fool you and everyone else at Havengate.”
“We’ve had a visit from the authorities,” Dr. Duboise admitted. When Trish’s eyes widened, he assured her, “We will maintain patient-doctor confidentiality even if there’s an official investigation.”
“I know Darlene is convinced that I’m lying,”
Trish told him, trying to control her dislike of the woman. “This party she is giving is just a ploy of some kind. I can’t think of anything I’d rather not do than spend the evening trying to pretend I know a bunch of people who are strangers to me. I agreed to go because I’m sure she’s attempting to trip me up, and I want to prove to everyone that I am not playing games.”
Suddenly her eyes filled with tears as feelings of frustration and despair washed over her. “Maybe it is really true that I don’t want to remember.”
“That’s possible,” he agreed quietly.
“Maybe what they suspect about Perry and me is true,” she said in a choked voice.
“And maybe it isn’t. Why not accept your own intuition, instead of believing what other people are telling you?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Refuse to let anyone or anything take away a deep confidence in yourself.”
“I’ll try.”
She left his office filled with a new determination to depend upon herself as much as was humanly possible even when she had no idea how the pieces of her life fit together. As she made her way to her car, she had a flicker of regret that she had to go back to her fancy high-rise apartment instead of staying at the clinic.
She was just about to get in the car when she sensed movement behind her. She swung around, startled until she saw who it was.
“Andrew,” she gasped, leaning back against the Porsche in relief.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apol
ogized quickly. “I’ve been waiting, hoping to catch a chance to talk with you.”
She was surprised at the sudden quiver of joy that raced through her just seeing him again. Her breath was short and it was only with great effort that she managed to feign an air of indifference. “What’s on your mind?”
“I think we need to talk. Could we take a short walk through the grounds before you head back to the city?”
“I’m in no hurry,” she admitted. His manner was slightly stiff, and certainly lacking the easy companionship they had once enjoyed. Her initial impression that he was there to invite her to come back to his cottage instantly faded.
Even though Andrew didn’t touch her, he was conscious of her nearness as they left the parking lot and followed a stone path circling through the landscaped grounds. He had rehearsed a dozen times in his mind what he wanted to say to her, but his mind was as muddled as ever. Should he say something about seeing her yesterday? Would she think he was spying on her if he admitted he saw her getting into a cab with Curtis?
As he glanced at her, he could see a tightness in her mouth, and faint worry lines fanning away from her eyes. More than anything, he wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss away the traces of tears on her cheeks. Her session with Dr. Duboise must have been a rough one.
He gave her a self-conscious smile, and asked, “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” she lied. Maybe if she didn’t unload on him, he wouldn’t cut her off the way he had the last
time they were together. More than anything, she wanted to savor Andrew’s company if only for a little while. He was the only one who made her feel that she could be herself even if she wasn’t sure just who that was.
“How about you?” she asked politely. “Is your work going well?”
He started to make some superficial response but something stopped him. The truth was that he hadn’t been able to put in a decent hour’s work since she’d refused his telephone call. He’d spent hours running on the beach, trying to wear himself out so he wouldn’t think about her being with Curtis Mandel and all her fancy friends.
When they reached the familiar bench where they had sat and talked before, he eased her down beside him. For a long moment, they just sat there in silence, keeping a few inches between them as if it were crucial to maintain some kind of safety zone.
Trish wondered if he could hear the wild beating of her heart, or sense the desire to turn and bury her face in the inviting strength of his shoulder.
“Trish, I need to get something off my chest,” he finally said, clearing a hoarseness in his voice. “I know that you don’t need me complicating your life, but I want to explain a few things to you.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said with a lift of her chin. “What happens to me now isn’t your responsibility.”