Reflections of Yesterday

  “No,” the woman barked.

  Angie turned, surprised at the uncharacteristic rise in the older woman’s voice. “Twelve years ago, I paid you ten thousand dollars to leave Groves Point,” she said in a low, controlled voice. “Today I would offer you everything I own if you’d agree to come back.”

  Fourteen

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t intrude on Simon’s life a second time,” Georgia Canfield continued, more subdued now. “But my son needs you.” Her gloved hands were folded primly in front of her creaseless linen suit. “I thought at first it was my husband’s death that had affected him so greatly. But now I believe it’s you.”

  “Mrs. Canfield, if Simon loves me as much as you say, then he would have come back for me.”

  “And if you love him as much as you say,” she fired back, “you’d make the effort to go to him. Listen, Angela, you’re not the woman I would have chosen for Simon, but I’ve already had my chance at handpicking one wife. All I want is my son’s happiness, and if that means you, then I’m willing to accept you as a daughter-in-law.”

  “Maybe we should understand each other, Mrs. Canfield,” Angie shot directly back. “I don’t play bridge and have no intention of learning. I don’t want to have anything to do with the country club and I plan to be far too busy to join all the charities that interest you. Furthermore, if I come back to Groves Point I plan to bring my flower shop with me and work in it until the babies come.”

  The frown that drew the delicately lined eyebrows into one stiff curve relaxed at the mention of children. “You do want children?”

  “A house full.”

  “And you wouldn’t restrict me from seeing them?”

  “Mrs. Canfield, we’ve all made mistakes. I don’t hate you. I couldn’t. You’re Simon’s mother, and the very things I love about Simon are the best parts of you. You would be the only grandmother our children would have. They would need your love just as much as Simon and I would.”

  The older woman’s tight mouth relaxed and trembled at the corners. “My dear,” she whispered, so softly that Angie had to strain to hear, “perhaps you would consider being a guest speaker at the Garden Club someday.”

  Angie’s own voice was soft and quivering. “I’d enjoy that very much.”

  Mrs. Canfield opened the clasp of her purse, took out a dainty lace handkerchief, and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Believe me, I didn’t expect to resort to tears, but I’ve been terribly distressed about Simon.”

  “What’s happened?” A niggling fear invaded her happiness.

  “I think it would be best if you saw for yourself. Do come soon, Angela.”

  “I’ll be there within a week.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, Mrs. Canfield,” Angie whispered through the emotion blocking her throat. “Thank you.”

  Saturday morning, after furiously making arrangements with Donna regarding the flower shop, Angie packed her bags. Her first stop on the way out of town was Clay’s. Apprehensive, she sat in her car an extra minute to compose her thoughts. This was the moment she dreaded. She was going home to Simon, to where she’d always belonged, but in doing so she was pulling away from the loving, protective arms of her father. Long ago Angie had recognized that Clay’s actions had been motivated by love. Fear and pride had played a large part in his actions, too, but mostly there was love. He had used his health as a means of emotional blackmail so that she stood torn between the two men she loved the most in the world. Clay thought he’d won.

  He opened the door and gave her a look of mild surprise.

  “Angie.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s barely eight. What are you doing up so early?”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and raised her eyes to his. “I’m leaving, Dad.”

  The smile drained out of Clay’s face inch by inch, leaving him pale and deadly sober. “You’re going to him.”

  Angie nodded. “It’s where I belong.”

  He smiled a little sadly and hunched forward as he slumped onto the sofa. “I guess I’ve always known you would.”

  “Thank you for not trying to stop me.”

  “I wouldn’t,” he said, and his low voice was edged with pain. “You go to him, Angie girl, and tell him for me that he’s the luckiest man in South Carolina.”

  Sitting beside her father, Angie took him by the shoulders and gently laid her soft cheek to his jaw. “I’ll be moving Clay Pots with me.”

  Clay nodded and closed his eyes. “You’ve done well for yourself. I’ve been proud of you from the minute your mama laid you in my arms for the first time. No matter what I’ve said to you, I’ve always been proud you are my daughter.”

  “Dad … do you remember how Groves Point gave us a second chance after Mom died? It’ll do that again. I want you to move back …”

  “That’s impossible, Angie.” He lowered his head and studied his clasped hands for a heart-wrenching minute. “I’ve never told you how deeply I regret taking that Canfield money.”

  Angie laid her hand over his. “I was the one who took it.”

  “No,” he argued. “Not only did I convince you to accept that money, but I took the chance of giving you the college education you deserved. I wasted all those thousands on a pipe dream.”

  “Dad—”

  “No, I want you to listen. I’ve got some money saved, not much, a few thousand. When you go to Simon I want you to give him that with the promise that I’ll repay him the rest of the ten thousand when I can. I realize it’s a little old-fashioned, but I want you to think of this as your dowry.”

  “Oh Dad,” she whispered hoarsely, fighting back tears. “I should have told you.”

  “Told me?”

  “Remember when I sold Petal Pushers?” She gave him a moment to absorb the meaning of what she was saying.

  He looked puzzled, a deep frown narrowing his brow into three thick lines as he studied her.

  “That was our business, yours and mine. You worked as many hours as me. Often more. I sold it, invested the profit, and returned the ten thousand dollars to the Canfields with twelve years of compound interest.”

  Clay’s puzzled frown turned to one of amazed stupefaction.

  “We don’t owe the Canfields a penny.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I wish now I had.”

  Clay hugged her close, squeezing her head with his long arms. “Go to him, Angie. With my blessing and with my love.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered through a heart pounding with happiness.

  The drive took the better part of seven hours. Angie stopped twice. Once for gas and another time to grab a sandwich and something cool to drink. As her car ate up the miles, Angie grew more content. She felt as if she was going home, really going home, after a long time away.

  She didn’t stop in town, but drove directly to Simon’s house. Their house, her mind corrected, with its four spacious bedrooms, office, and family room.

  Prince barked when she pulled into the long driveway, but stopped when she climbed out of the car and gave him her hand to smell. The short-haired black dog seemed to recognize her and wagged his tail in greeting. Laughing, she found a stick, threw it into the woods, and watched him scramble after it.

  The back door was jerked open, and Angie turned to see an angry scowl on Simon’s face disappear into one of shocked disbelief.

  “Angie,” he whispered, as if seeing an illusion. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Is it really you?”

  Unexpectedly, she felt shy. It took everything within her just to meet his gaze. “Hello. The real estate man said I might want to look at this place as a possible home for a family.”

  Slowly he came down the concrete steps, measuring her words as though he couldn’t believe that she had come back to him a second time. Every instinct in him urged him to pull her into his arms and thank God for giving him another chance with this woman. A crippling thought paralyzed him
on the bottom step. No woman would return to him after the way he’d abused her body and spirit. Not unless there was a good reason. Angie had every right to hate him.

  Immediately he wondered if Angie could be pregnant. She just said she was looking for a family home. After all the weeks that he had prayed she would conceive his child.

  A gnawing fear froze the smile on Angie’s face as she watched Simon. The happiness that had filled her heart left as quickly as it came. He didn’t want her. “Simon,” she whispered achingly, “please say something.”

  “Why did you come?” He wanted to hear her say the words, telling him what he already knew. From the way she spoke, he’d know her feelings on the matter. He studied her face, praying he’d find some clue that she didn’t hate him, though she had every right.

  “Why?” she repeated, dropping her gaze, her mind discounting his mother’s visit. So this was to be Georgia Canfield’s ultimate revenge. She’d persuaded Angie to return to Groves Point when Simon no longer loved or wanted her. “If you need to ask, then you don’t know.” She felt sick with defeat and failure. Her stomach heaved and she placed a calming hand on her abdomen.

  He stiffened, his body tensing into a rigid line as her hand moved to her stomach. He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. The hurt, betrayed look told him everything. His eyes flickered open. No matter what her feelings were, Simon realized, he wanted their child enough to fight her in every court in the land for the right to raise him. It didn’t matter that his son had been conceived in anger and pain. The child was a part of Angie he had never dreamed he’d have. His gaze narrowed menacingly, and, frightened, Angie took a step in retreat.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered miserably.

  Her fear sobered him, and he drew back slightly. She would be a wonderful mother, gentle and caring. Tender and nurturing. No man in his right mind would tear a child from her arms. She’d die before she would let it happen. If she wouldn’t have him, then, by God, he’d give the child his name. Some way, somehow, he’d make her marry him.

  “I’ll make the arrangements for the wedding as soon as possible.”

  She swallowed and stared at him. “Don’t you think we should discuss things first?”

  “No,” he barked, taking her by the elbow and escorting her into the house. He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat her down. Pacing the area in front of her, he threaded his fingers through his hair angrily. “Maybe I should get you to the doctor first. Who have you seen?”

  “Seen?” Simon wasn’t making any sense whatsoever. “The only person I’ve talked to was your mother.”

  “My mother,” he raged furiously. “You went to her and didn’t have the common decency to tell me? I wondered, God knows I wondered, but I thought you’d contact me first. I never dreamed you’d go to her.”

  “I didn’t go to your mother,” she shouted back, on the verge of tears, her voice shaking. “She came to me.”

  “How did she know?”

  Angie blinked twice. “She must have guessed … Simon …” She paused, drew in a deep breath, and shook her head. “What are we talking about?”

  “The baby,” he told her evenly. He knelt beside her and took her hands in his. Shocked eyes met tender ones and Simon smiled at her with a fierce gentleness that robbed her lungs of oxygen. “After everything I’ve done and said to hurt you, can you find it in your heart to forgive me and marry me?” He drank deeply from her eyes and continued. “I love you more than life itself. These past weeks have been a living hell.”

  He thought she was pregnant! She laid her hand on his smoothly shaved cheek and smiled. When she spoke her voice was filled with tears. “You may not want to marry me when I tell you something.”

  “I’ve wanted you from the time I was a teenager. Not once in all those years has that changed.”

  She dropped her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “Simon,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m not pregnant.”

  The words went through him like a bolt of lightning. “You’re not?”

  “No. I wanted to be so badly. Every day I prayed that I was.” Shyly, she closed her eyes. “If I was pregnant, then I’d have an excuse to come to you.”

  “Come to me? Oh my sweet, darling Angie.” He couldn’t believe that this incredible woman loved him after all he’d put her through. He’d suffered the agonies of the damned these weeks without her, knowing that after what he’d done he couldn’t go back to her. Pleading for her forgiveness wasn’t enough to take away the pain of their last meeting. “Oh love, I don’t deserve you. You’re far too good for me.”

  Through joy and tears and an immense relief, her arms sneaked around his neck and she smiled at him through the watery haze. “Simon, dear Simon, I love you so much.”

  His arms came around her, crushing her. His eyes were dark with emotion as his mouth found hers with all the aching longing of this last separation. “I hope you’re sure,” he whispered against her lips, “because I’ll never have the strength to let you go again.”

  “I’m sure. Very sure.” She kissed him in all the ways he’d taught her, until she was faint with joy and longing.

  Simon’s mouth and hands moved over her with a fierce tenderness until their breaths became mingled gasps of pleasure. They strained against each other, wanting to give more and more.

  When Simon stood, lifting her in his arms, Angie tossed back her head until her radiant gaze met his. “Where are you taking me?” she teased, finding his earlobe and sucking it until she felt the shivers race through him.

  “Who said you weren’t pregnant?” he asked, and traced the delicate line of her chin with his forefinger. “After today I can guarantee you that will change.”

  And it did.

  BALLANTINE BOOKS BY DEBBIE MACOMBER

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  About the Author

  DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of Mr. Miracle, Love Letters, Blossom Street Brides, Starry Night, Rose Harbor in Bloom, The Inn at Rose Harbor, Starting Now, and Angels at the Table, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Nine of her novels have hit #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, with three debuting at #1 on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly lists. In 2009 and 2010, Mrs. Miracle and Call Me Mrs. Miracle were Hallmark Channel’s top-watched movies for the year. In 2013, Hallmark Channel produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove. She has more than 170 million copies of her books in print worldwide.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading my book! I love giving my readers something special, so if you turn the page, you’ll find a sneak peak of my upcoming novel Last One Home. It’s a new novel about loss, forgiveness, and the unbreakable bond between sisters. I hope you enjoy it! I love hearing from readers, so stop by my Facebook page or send me a tweet @debbiemacomber.

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  Chapter 4

  Cassie ha
d a fifteen-minute break between clients and was sitting in the break room, checking her cell for messages. Earlier Rosie had connected her with her cousin Russell, who said he might be able to get Cassie a weekend job working for the catering company that serviced the suites for the Sounders’ soccer games. She already had a health card from the time she worked in a fast-food restaurant while going to cosmetology school. If she got hired as a server for even two or three of their games, she’d be able to earn enough to rent a truck and drive to Spokane to collect the furniture Karen had mentioned. Her sister had made it plain she didn’t want to be paying storage fees for more than two months.

  Cassie had her feet braced against the chair. When she saw she had a voice message and who it was from, both feet dropped to the floor like a bag of concrete.

  Habitat for Humanity.

  This was it. Cassie was about to learn if she’d been accepted as a candidate for the program. She’d had to supply every bit of identification she’d accumulated in her entire life, including her birth certificate, her Social Security card, an income tax return, and bank statements. Plus she had to have worked six months with proof of income.

  Megan Victory, who’d helped Cassie through the application process, mentioned that in addition to everything else, Cassie had to show proof of a savings account. Cassie opened an account with the minimum deposit. She learned that before she would be eligible to move into her new home, she’d need to have enough saved to pay the first year’s home insurance premium.

  Anyone applying through Habitat had to be serious about wanting a home to go through this process. Once all the paperwork was compiled and Cassie had filled out the application, she met with the family selection committee. Following the interview, she then had to be approved by the board of directors. It’d been a month she’d been waiting for their final decision.

  For a long time Cassie simply stared at her phone, unable to find the courage to play the message. Her biggest fear was that she hadn’t been considered a good candidate.