Memories of Midnight. Сидни Шелдон

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       Chapter Three

      There is a theory that nothing in nature is ever lost—that every sound ever made, every word ever spoken, still exists somewhere in space and time and may one day be recalled.

      Before radio was invented, they say, who would have believed that the air around us was filled with the sounds of music and news and voices from around the world? One day we will be able to travel back in time and listen to Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, the voice of Shakespeare, the Sermon on the Mount …

      Catherine Alexander heard voices from her past, but they were muffled and fragmented, and they filled her with confusion. …

      “Do you know you’re a very special girl, Cathy? I felt it from the first time I saw you. …”

      “It’s over. I want a divorce. … I’m in love with someone else. …”

      “I know how badly I’ve behaved. … I’d like to make it up to you. …”

      “He tried to kill me.”

      “Who tried to kill you?”

      “My husband.”

      The voices would not stop. They were a torment. Her past became a kaleidoscope of shifting images that kept racing through her mind.

      The convent should have been a wonderful, peaceful haven, but it had suddenly become a prison. I don’t belong here. But where do I belong? She had no idea.

      There were no mirrors in the convent, but there was a reflecting pool outside, near the garden. Catherine had carefully avoided it, afraid of what it might reveal to her. But on this morning, she walked over to it, slowly knelt, and looked down. The pool reflected a lovely-looking suntanned woman with black hair, flawless features, and solemn gray eyes that seemed filled with pain … but perhaps that was merely a trick of the water. She saw a generous mouth that looked ready to smile, and a nose that was slightly turned up—a beautiful woman in her early thirties. But a woman with no past and no future. A woman lost. I need someone to help me, Catherine thought desperately, someone I can talk to. She went into Sister Theresa’s office.

      “Sister …”

      “Yes, child?”

      “I … think I would like to see a doctor. Someone who can help me find out who I am.”

      Sister Theresa looked at her a long moment. “Sit down.”

      Catherine sat on the hard chair across from the ancient, scarred desk.

      Sister Theresa said quietly: “My dear, God is your doctor. In due time He will let you know what He wishes you to know. Besides, no outsiders are ever permitted within these walls.”

      Catherine had a sudden flash of memory … a vague image of a man talking to her in the garden of the convent, handing her something … but then it was gone.

      “I don’t belong here.”

      “Where do you belong?”

      And that was the problem. “I’m not sure. I’m searching for something. Forgive me, Sister Theresa, but I know it isn’t here.”

      Sister Theresa was studying her, her face thoughtful. “I see. If you left here, where would you go?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Let me think about this, child. We will talk again soon.”

      “Thank you, Sister.”

      When Catherine left, Sister Theresa sat at her desk for a long time, staring at nothing. It was a difficult decision that she had to make. Finally she reached for a piece of paper and a pen and began to write.

      “Dear Sir,” she began. “Something has happened that I feel I should call to your attention. Our mutual friend has informed me that she wishes to leave the convent. Please advise me what to do.”

      He read the note once, and then sat back in his chair, analyzing the consequences of the message. So! Catherine Alexander wants to come back from the dead. Too bad. I’ll have to get rid of her. Carefully. Very carefully.

      The first step was to remove her from the convent. Demiris decided it was time to pay Sister Theresa a visit.

      The following morning, Demiris had his chauffeur take him to Ioannina. Driving through the countryside, Constantin Demiris thought about Catherine Alexander. He remembered how beautiful she had been when he had first met her. She had been bright and funny and high-spirited, excited about being in Greece. She had had everything, Demiris thought. And then the gods had taken their vengeance. Catherine had been married to one of his pilots, and their marriage had become a living hell. Almost overnight, she had aged ten years and become a fat, blowsy drunk. Demiris sighed. What a waste.

      Demiris was seated in Sister Theresa’s office.

      “I hated to bother you about this,” Sister Theresa apologized, “but the child has nowhere to go and …”

      “You did the right thing,” Constantin Demiris assured her. “Does she remember anything of her past?”

      Sister СКАЧАТЬ