His Heiress Wife. Margaret Way
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Jason shook his head. “Not here, if that’s what you’re on about. Mum left the family home to me. That’s where Tali and I live.”
“And Renata?” Her proud aloof expression softened slightly.
“She’s still at her own place. She does a lot of child minding.”
“Megan too busy to look after her little daughter?” Immediately after she said it Olivia was furious for mentioning Megan’s name.
“Megan’s gone, Olivia,” he shocked her by saying.
“Gone?” That was the last thing she expected to hear. “Gone where?”
Jason realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this question to come. “Our marriage didn’t work out, Liv. I never loved Megan. I couldn’t make myself love her though I tried to make our marriage work. The thing is, no-one can love to order. In the end Megan became so bitter and angry she left.”
“Just like that?” Olivia’s mouth curved in disbelief. “Simplicity itself leaving a man who doesn’t love you. But your child? How did she do it or did you refuse to let her have custody of Tali? I can see you doing that?”
“She didn’t want Tali,” Jason informed her bluntly. “Tali was cargo she didn’t need to carry. Megan wasn’t a good mother I’m afraid. She didn’t bond with Tali right from the beginning, totally lacked the maternal streak you women are supposed to have. She had some dark places in her soul, poor Megan.”
Olivia stared at him openly, too shocked to register anything but her disbelief. “So where is she now?”
Jason shrugged. “The last I heard she was living with some guy in the Territory.”
“Well, gee, Jason, you made a mistake.” Olivia assumed a laconic drawl, allowed herself to give vent to her emotions. “It’s Tali I feel sorry for. She must have feelings of grief and abandonment?”
Jason’s chiselled jawline tightened. “I think Tali had a pretty rough time with Megan when I wasn’t around.”
Olivia blinked. “Can you clarify that?” she asked sharply. The Megan she remembered had always appeared quiet and docile.
“I don’t want to go into this, Olivia.” Jason’s tone was curt. “Megan didn’t have an easy childhood. Some of it brushed off on her. I mightn’t have been able to love her but I always tried to do the right thing by her. In the end I was glad she took off because I was worried eventually she might hurt Tali.”
“And when did she take off as you put it?”
“Megan left when Tali was almost four,” Jason answered, openly on edge.
“She doesn’t look like you,” Olivia stunned herself by saying. “She doesn’t look like Megan, either, although there is something familiar about her.”
“I thought she had my eyes.” He shrugged.
She glanced away before she burst into tears. “Only in the sense they’re blue. I wish I could say I’m sorry for the mess you’ve made of your life, Jason, but I’m not such a hypocrite.”
“Once you didn’t lack for compassion,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wasn’t in your nature to be mean.”
“I didn’t say I’m proud of myself,” she retorted, colour springing to her cheeks. “You got enough of that from Harry anyway, don’t expect it from me. After the funeral, Jason, I don’t want to see you again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
AS BEFITTING a man of Harry Linfield’s standing, patriarch of the community, his funeral was widely attended. Olivia knew the church was going to be packed. She was right. Mourners crowded into the cool, hushed interior, greeting each other in low, saddened voices. Many more people saw, as they approached the open church door, there was no room for them in the press of congregation. They would have to stand outside in the blazing sun or quickly seek the shade of the giant magnolia that stood in the church grounds.
Everyone was given a service sheet. Olivia as Harry’s nearest and dearest, sat up front with members of the extended family who had flown from all over to attend Harry’s funeral. Olivia had received countless subdued smiles and nods of recognition from the moment she had stepped out of her funeral house limousine right up until she took her seat in the front pew. Most of the mourners had been invited back to the house. She saw Jason on the other side of the church, in his formal dark clothes which together with the sombre expression on his chiselled face only added to his heartbreaking handsomeness.
She looked through him. His familiarity, the intimacy they had once shared a fierce torture. They would have been married from this church.
Don’t think about it. Think of Harry.
There were flowers everywhere. She had ordered reams of them despite the heat. Harry had loved flowers. There were great sprays of arum lilies, November lilies, roses, carnations, orchids and clouds of gypsophilia. Her huge bouquet of white November lilies had been placed on Harry’s casket. They all rose to their feet as the vicar, tall, silver haired, black and white robed, moved to a position just to the right of the coffin. He began to speak. The sort of words one always hears at funerals. Life, death, resurrection. The organ began to play. They all consulted their service sheets to join in the hymn. Perhaps there were too many flowers. They looked wonderful, softening the cruelty of death, but the perfume was clogging her nostrils making it hard for her to breathe. She began to pray for Harry; for her parents long dead. Harry had been far more than a guardian. He had been the closest person in the world to her. Outside Jason. It was impossible to leave out her traitorous lover.
“Are you all right, Livvy?” An elderly cousin bent solicitously towards her, placing a hand over Olivia’s.
She made a huge effort to respond. “Yes, thank you,” she whispered.
She made herself focus on her breathing. In and out. In and out. Deep and slow. Surely she wouldn’t be able to read the short poem she had picked out for the service? She was amazed now she had agreed to get up and speak. She was far too upset. She would read the poem quietly over his grave. Harry had been of a generation that read poetry constantly and loved it. She loved poetry herself. Poets had a way of expressing everything that needed to be said in the shortest possible time.
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