“You can’t.” Simon’s words cut at her as painfully as a slashing knife. “That time is gone forever.”
Angie paused and felt a compelling urge to reach out and touch him. Tightening her hand around the stick, Angie threw it again. “I know.”
“Why did you come back?” Simon demanded harshly. “Why now, after all this time?”
Slowly, she turned toward him. “I had to come. I’ve wasted too many years as it is.”
Panting, Prince returned with the stick, but when Angie bent over to take it from his mouth, Simon stopped her. Gripping her left hand, he raised his eyes to hers.
His dark brows furrowed together. “You’ve never married?”
Angie swallowed, but her voice wavered emotionally. “I couldn’t. I married at seventeen.”
Three
Simon went pale, his hand dropping hers. “Are you saying that you never married because of what we did?”
Her head drooped. Angie couldn’t find the words to explain. “No. I realized when your mother gave me the check that whatever commitment you felt toward me was over.”
“Haven’t you got that turned around?”
“How do you mean?” Angie asked, missing the gist of his question. She remembered vividly how Georgia Canfield had come to her and explained that Simon had found another girl at college.
“I wasn’t the one who asked to be free.” His mouth tightened grimly.
“Not technically,” she argued. “You sent your mother to do it for you.”
“What?” he exploded. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as if to cut off what he was about to say. “I think we’d better talk.” Pivoting sharply, he headed toward the house, leaving a confused Angie to follow in his wake.
He was so far ahead of her that by the time she reached the back of the house, he was already inside and the door was left open, waiting for her.
The back door led to a porch with a matching washer and dryer. Angie wiped the mud from her shoes on the braided rug just inside. Rounding the corner, she paused in the doorway of the kitchen. The room was huge, with bright countertops and shining appliances.
His hip was leaning against the long counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “Now say that again.”
“What? That your mother asked for your freedom?”
“Yes.” His eyes were measuring her. “How could you have believed such a thing?” He looked as if he wanted to strangle her.
“I didn’t!” she shouted, in her defense. “Don’t you remember I took the Greyhound bus to the university? I asked you myself.”
“You couldn’t have.” He straightened and began pacing the polished tile floor like a tormented beast trapped in the close confines of a cage. Suddenly, as if he needed to sit down, he pulled out a chair. “I think we had better start at the beginning.”
Angie joined him at the round oak table, her hands clasped in her lap. The confrontation with his mother might have taken place twelve years ago, but she vividly remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. And now Simon was acting as if none of this were true.
“Don’t lie to me, Simon. Not now, after all these years.”
“I swear before everything I hold dear that I never asked to be free from you, Angie.” Every facet of his face was intent, imploring.
Slowly, Angie shook her head, not knowing what to believe.
“Start from the beginning,” he urged, his gray eyes wide and rapt.
“You’d left for the university that September.”
He nodded. “I wrote to you practically every day and phoned almost that often. How could you have possibly believed there was someone else?”
Her nails cut painfully into her palms. She couldn’t deny that in the beginning he’d contacted her daily. Being separated like that had been miserable for them both. But Simon seemed to have adjusted more quickly than she. “At first you did.”
“What does that mean?” His eyes narrowed defensively.
“I … noticed that around November your letters became less frequent.” She lowered her eyes to the quilted placemat on the tabletop. “You didn’t phone nearly as often, either.”
“I was saving money so I could buy you a Christmas present. The phone bill for October had taken nearly all my trust fund allowance.”
She had known that, too. But at the time, she’d been so unhappy without him that every day apart had seemed like an eternity. “I knew you were involved with basketball, so I didn’t say anything. But whenever we talked, you were always in such a hurry, and even your letters were getting shorter and shorter.”
“Angie, I was about to flunk out of two classes because I spent so much time writing and talking to you.”
It all sounded so petty now. She wanted to tear her eyes away from him but found she couldn’t. His smoldering gaze held her captive, demanding that she continue.
“The second week in February your mother came into the pharmacy and said she needed to talk to me.” Nervously, her fingers toyed with the fringe around an orange-and-brown plaid placemat. “She … she said that she’d noticed over the holidays that you were unhappy.” This was hard, so much harder than she had ever imagined it could possibly be. Each word was wrenched from her until her voice wavered. “She said you’d found another girl at school, but you felt guilty about me. She didn’t want me to be hurt and offered me the … money to leave town.”
Simon’s hand reached for hers, gripping it so tightly that it felt as though he had cut off the flow of blood to her fingers. “Angie, I hadn’t.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I didn’t want to believe her. That’s why I took the bus to see you. If you were going to be rid of me, then you’d have to tell me yourself.”
Leaning his elbow on the table, Simon wiped a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were walking in front of the fraternity.” Simon’s own memory of that last meeting was strikingly clear. Her long, shining dark hair had been tied back and her mournful, troubled eyes had searched his. He had known she needed him at that moment, but he couldn’t stand the pressure of another demand.
“I’d been waiting outside your fraternity for an hour, pacing,” Angie inserted, caught in her own reminiscence. “I wanted so badly to believe it wasn’t true. But you took one look at me and said you hoped to God I wasn’t pregnant. A pregnancy would ruin everything.”
Simon turned his head and stared out the kitchen window with unseeing eyes. That day had to have been the worst of his life. His grades had been so poor that he was kicked off the basketball team. He’d found Angie after leaving the coach’s office, where he’d gotten the lecture of his life. His father had been to the university earlier that week, berating him. The last thing he needed was to have Angie show up and tell him she was pregnant.
“And you assumed from what my mother said that everything was true.”
“It made sense at the time,” she murmured, the tremble in her voice barely noticeable any longer. “It had been weeks since you’d seen me, and when you did, you acted like—”
“I know how I acted.” Rising to his feet, Simon crossed the room. “So you returned to Groves Point, took the money, and moved out of town.”
She hadn’t wanted that ten thousand dollars. Clay was the one who’d insisted they take it. Simon owed her that much, he had argued. All Angie had cared about was the desperate need to escape Groves Point, and the Canfields. “Yes, I took the money and left.” She offered no excuses. None were needed.
“So much for trust and vows spoken before God.”
This wasn’t a time for accusations, but for understanding and forgiving. In her anger she lashed back at him with a vengeance. “I notice it didn’t take you long to seek solace.” Her nerves felt threadbare. “How many women warmed your blood before you married Carol?”
Simon raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Three years, Angie. For three years I waited for you to come back.” His mouth was pinched; tight.
He’d waited f
or her to return. Shock waves rippled over her as her eyes widened. “Even when I’d taken the money, you waited?” She stared up at him. “Oh Simon …”
He came toward her and paused uncertainly. If he touched her, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let her go again. Myriad emotions raged through him like a wildfire on a sun-scorched field. Anger. Surprise. Regret. But paramount was a burning sense of betrayal by the ones he loved and trusted most.
Impulsively, Angie raised her hand and reached out, lightly touching his forearm. Moisture shimmered in her eyes as she raised her gaze to him.
He caught her hand and gripped it as though it were a lifeline to sanity. “Angie, how could we have let this happen to us?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice wavering and unsteady. “It was all so long ago.”
“I could kill them.”
“No, no, don’t even think such a thing.” Vaulting to her feet, she forcefully shook her head. “There’s been enough hate and misunderstanding. Your parents did what they thought was best for you.”
The pinched look about his mouth didn’t relax. “They had no right—”
“No, they didn’t,” she agreed. “But who’s to say what the future held for us? We were both incredibly young—”
“And stupid,” Simon inserted. “But it doesn’t change what they did.”
The cold ruthlessness was back in Simon. At seventeen she’d never seen that side of him. Their world had been filled with high ideals and warm promises. Who could have said that their love would last less than a year?
“I’m leaving in the morning,” she said softly, her hand reaching for his and clasping it tightly. “And when I do I want to look back on these past few days as a time of healing. I came back to Groves Point to make my peace, not to stir up grief. I bear no one malice, least of all your family. We need to forgive your parents and my dad. But most of all, we need to forgive each other.”
Simon expelled an angry breath as his gaze narrowed on her upturned face. “I don’t know that I can,” he ground out. Without warning, he brought her into the tight circle of his arms.
Having Simon hold her like this was like returning safely home after fighting a twelve-year battle. With her ear pressed against his chest, she heard the steady drumbeat of his heart. He released a sigh of contentment and she felt him rub his unshaved chin across the crown of her head. They had shared the most beautiful part of their youth together. Simon would always be someone special in her life, but the love they shared was over. She was free now. Free to return to Charleston and Glenn. Free to love.
A surge of happiness brought an excited bubble of laughter from her throat. “I’m so relieved.”
“I don’t know what I feel,” he confessed, in a strained voice. All the emotions remained, most of which he would need to deal with privately. But Angie was here, in his arms, and he had to find a way to keep her there. “Angie.” He murmured her name as he loosened his grip. A hand on each of her shoulders pushed her gently back so he could study her. She was beautiful. Even the tears that streaked her face couldn’t mar the natural beauty of her perfect features. The lovely mouth drew his attention, and he struggled to align his thoughts. “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.” Not when he’d just found her again. Not when he’d been offered a second chance. Holding Angie was like stepping into the freshness of a newborn spring after suffering through the bitter cold of winter.
Angie was stunned. Simon’s asking her to remain in Groves Point was the last thing she’d expected. “I have to go. My home, my business … everything’s in Charleston.” Suddenly it was vitally important that she get back to Glenn. There was so much she was burning to tell him.
“Stay longer—only a few more days,” he pleaded, his fingers tightening their grip. “Just until we have things worked out.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes implored him to understand. She was afraid of what would develop if she did. Simon and Groves Point were a part of her life that belonged in the past. Glenn and Charleston were her future. “In fact,” she murmured, glancing at her wristwatch, “I need to be leaving right away. Cindy’s expecting me.” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention that she’d be at the country club dance that evening. But it wasn’t an event she was looking forward to attending.
“Your car.” Simon straightened as his gaze shifted to the tools lying on the top of the counter. A near-smile touched his mouth. “Since we’re speaking honestly here, I guess I should own up. I disconnected a few wires.”
“You did what?” Angie stared up at him blankly.
“I disabled your car. That’s why it wouldn’t start.”
She was flabbergasted. “But why?” She’d have thought he would have gone to any lengths to be rid of her.
“I didn’t know the car was yours when I did it. If someone was trespassing on my property, I didn’t want them running off until I knew the reason.”
“Oh.” The logic in that was irrefutable.
“And later, when I discovered it was you”—he paused and smiled wryly—“I was happy to have an excuse for you to stay.”
“I’m so glad you did,” she admitted, keeping her voice low.
By unspoken agreement they left the kitchen, walking into the sunlight that shone down on them like a healing balm.
His hand rested lightly at the base of her neck as if he needed to touch her. How different their steps on this same bit of road had been only a short time ago.
Simon repaired her car within minutes by simply reconnecting the wires. When he lowered the hood, an awkward silence hung between them.
After wiping his fingers clean on a white handkerchief, Simon stuffed it into his back pocket. “I want to see you again.”
Her heart was going crazy, its beat accelerating to an alarming rate. Part of her was crying out to explore the unbelievable tenderness they had once shared. Maybe if so much time hadn’t elapsed, she would have been more willing. But the worlds that separated them twelve years ago had widened even more. She couldn’t come back.
Her eyes were sad when they met his. She was angry because he asked and angry because she knew what her answer must be. “I’m sorry, so sorry, but no.”
He looked for a moment as if he didn’t believe her. “Why not?”
“Because what we shared was a long time ago. We can’t recapture our youth. Nor can we alter the past. The time has come to go on.”
His brow furrowed in a thick frown, Simon shook his head and captured her hand with his. “Angie, listen to me. I love you. I can live a hundred years and never feel this strongly about another woman.”
“Simon, don’t,” she pleaded, feeling guilty and increasingly miserable. “What you love is a memory.”
“No,” he argued with a warm gentleness that nearly undid her. “I love you.”
“You don’t know me,” she said desperately in a half-sob, reaching inside the car for her purse. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp as she struggled to remove her car keys.
“I’m not going to push this.” His fingertips brushed a stray tear from her cheek. A dry grin twisted his mouth. “But I think it’s a sad commentary on our lives if, after twelve years, you suggest we need more time.”
Angie’s laugh escaped on the swell of a broken sob. “You’re going to start me crying all over again. Oh Simon. I’ve cried more these past few days than I have in years.”
“Good,” he murmured, taking a step closer. “Let those tears be an absolution.” He placed his hand on the curve of her neck, his long fingers sliding into the length of her hair. His other hand wiped the moisture from her cheek. Unhurried, his mouth made a slow descent to hers.
As the distance lessened, Angie closed her eyes. She should break away, she thought guiltily, but the curiosity to discover his kiss again was overpowering. They weren’t teenagers anymore, but adults, curious after a long absence.
His lips warmly covered hers, his touch firm and experienced. The tension eased from Angie as she slid h
er hands over his rib cage, feeling his hard muscles through the material of his shirt.
The pulse point in her neck throbbed against his fingers, betraying his effect on her. Her hold tightened as her mouth clung to his.
“Oh Simon,” she whispered, as his mouth released her.
Slowly he lifted his head, awed by the power an uncomplicated kiss held over him. Angie’s eyes were wide and faintly puzzled. She resembled a frightened doe, unsure of her footing. His first reaction was to reach out and hold her secure. But he couldn’t. As difficult as it was at this moment, he had to let her go. In some ways, it had been easier the first time. He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step in retreat.
“Good-bye, Simon,” she said in a choked, unhappy voice.
He couldn’t answer her. For him the kiss wasn’t a farewell, but a welcoming. He opened the car door for her and closed it once she’d climbed inside.
The car engine roared to life without a problem. Her eyes glistened with tears as Angie shifted the gears, backed the car around, and drove away. Not once did she glance in her rearview mirror, although everything within her was demanding that she take one last look at Simon.
A blazing orange sun was greeting the horizon when the two couples pulled into the country club parking lot.
“I’m as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night,” Cindy confessed, as Bob gave her his hand and helped her out of the backseat of Charlie’s Lexus.
“How do I look?” Cindy nervously asked Angie, as her fingers brushed at a small crease in the front of her dove-gray silk dress.
“Gorgeous,” Angie said, and winked. “We both do.” After spending the morning and most of the afternoon shopping, she wouldn’t admit to anything else. Cindy did look lovely. Even Bob’s jaw had dropped in surprise when his wife had appeared.
Bob inserted a finger under the starched white collar of his shirt. “Are you sure there isn’t going to be a problem?” His question was directed at Charlie.
“I’m sure,” Charlie returned confidently. “Everyone’s entitled to bring guests.”