“Thank you for asking me, Simon. I’ll always remember that you did.” With that, she turned and walked away.
A long minute passed before Simon ran after her. “Angie.”
She hesitated before turning around. Her face was so drawn that her dark eyes were in sharp contrast to her bloodless features. “Yes.”
She looked so miserable that he immediately wanted to comfort her. “I could pick you up at the library.”
“Would you?” Her voice grew even softer.
“I don’t want to go to the dance with anyone but you.”
She looked for a moment as if she wanted to cry. Biting her lower lip, she gnawed on it before forcing a smile. “There’s no one else I’d want to take me.”
“Can I carry your books?”
She nodded, and when he reached for her hand she gave him that, too.
That night they’d shared a tentative kiss. For the first time, Angie let Simon drive her home from the library. They stopped at the local drive-in for something to drink, and sat and talked until Angie glanced at her watch and looked startled. She had Simon drop her off a block before Oak Street. Her fingers were on the doorknob when Simon stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. Surprised, she looked back. Simon said nothing as he leaned forward and gently brushed his mouth over hers. He’d experienced far more passionate kisses, but none so sweet.
By the time he arrived home, Simon was whistling.
“You’ve got it bad,” Cal had commented a month later.
“What do you mean?” Simon decided to play dumb.
“You and Angela Robinson.”
“Yeah, so what’s the big deal? She’s terrific; I like her.”
“I like Angie, too. Everyone does, but you know what kind of problem you’ll face if you ask her to the prom.”
Simon did know. It’d been in his mind all week. Angie hadn’t mentioned it, but the biggest dance of the year loomed before them like D Day. For all his parents knew, he was still dating Shirley. Neither his mother nor his father would appreciate him asking a girl from Oak Street to the country club dinner scheduled after the prom. For that matter, Angie had never mentioned her home or family, either.
They’d continued to see each other nightly, with Simon dropping her off a block from Oak Street and sitting in the car until she was safely inside her house. A couple times he’d driven down her street without her knowing it and had been surprised at how meticulous the yard and flowerbeds were. As far as he could see, there was nothing to be ashamed of. He worried about Angie and wondered if her father was abusive or an alcoholic. She had given him no clues, but he couldn’t press the subject, since he hadn’t taken her to meet his parents, either.
A week before the dance, Simon had made his decision. “We’re going,” he announced that night. They were parked at Three Tree Point, sitting in the convertible with the top down. Angie sat close by his side, her head resting on his chest. Simon’s arm was looped around her shoulder, and he pressed her close.
Angie hadn’t made the pretense of not knowing what he was talking about. “There’ll be trouble.”
“We’ll face it together.” Slowly, reassuringly, his hand stroked the length of her arm. “And this time I won’t pick you up at the library or anyplace else. I’m coming to your front door with the biggest corsage this town has ever seen.”
“Oh Simon,” she had whispered, uncertainty in her voice, “I don’t know.”
“And with you on my arm, I’m going to introduce you proudly to my parents.”
Simon felt the tension building in her. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more positive of anything in my life.”
The evening had been a disaster from beginning to end. As he said he would, Simon picked Angie up at her house. He had barely knocked when the door was opened. Simon wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the tall, gray-haired man who stood before him. Simon introduced himself and shook hands with Angie’s father, Clay Robinson. Clay was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked down. From listening around school, Simon knew that Angie’s father worked at the mill. On weekends he played banjo at a local tavern.
“You’ve come to take my Angie to the prom?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re that rich kid from on the hill, ain’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t suppose you and your daddy like good bluegrass?”
“Daddy, please,” Angie pleaded, her face red with embarrassment.
“We enjoy music.” All Simon wanted to do was get Angie out of that house.
“Me and my band play good; you say something to your daddy, you hear, boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
Angie didn’t say a word until Simon had parked the car in the parking lot. The music drifted from the open door of the school gymnasium. “I’m sorry, Simon,” she mumbled, her chin tucked against her collarbone.
“What for?”
“Dad. He shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”
“Angie, it doesn’t matter. Okay?” A finger under her chin lifted her eyes to his. They were so dark and intense that he leaned forward and kissed her. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” She was, incredibly so. Her hair was piled high upon her head, and small flowers were woven into the design. The dress was new, a light blue thing with an illusion yoke of sheer lace. Angie had designed it herself, and he was astonished at her skill.
For the first time that evening, she smiled. “No.”
“Then let me correct the oversight.” He chuckled. “You are incredibly beautiful tonight, Angie.” He said it with all the emotion he was experiencing and gazed deep into her fathomless eyes.
Her smile revealed the happiness his words produced. “Thank you, Simon.”
They should have been able to enjoy the dance, but they didn’t. Instead they both were anticipating the confrontation that awaited them at the country club. Simon’s mother hadn’t surprised him.
“Mom,” he said, tucking his arm around Angie’s waist. “This is Angela Robinson.”
“Hello, Angela.” Politely Mrs. Canfield shook Angie’s hand, but her eyes had turned questioningly to her son. His mother was far too refined to say anything at the moment, but Simon knew he’d hear about his choice of a date later.
Simon escorted Angie to a dinner table in the front of the room, where they were joined by Cal Spencer and his date. No sooner were they seated when Simon’s father approached the table, expecting an introduction. He asked the group to excuse Simon and took him across the room, where he proceeded to demand to know exactly what kind of game his son was playing.
“Trouble?” Cal asked, when Simon returned.
“No.” Simon reached for Angie’s hand under the table. “Everything’s fine.” Only it hadn’t been, and they both knew it.
Some time later, when Simon was away from the table, exchanging polite inanities with a friend of the family, Cal came for him.
“Angie’s left.”
Simon looked around him in disbelief. “What happened?”
“Someone came up and said her kind wasn’t welcome here.”
Anger filled every fiber of his being. “Who?” He was ready to swing on the bastard.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Cal murmured. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about Angie?”
It amazed him how far she’d gotten in so short a time. “Angie,” Simon called, running after her. A hand on her shoulder stopped her progress down the hill. Her dark lashes were wet and he knew she’d been crying.
“Oh Angie.” He pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms around her. She sniffled once and broke free, pausing to wipe her cheek, but kept her face lowered, refusing to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry, running away was a childish thing to do, but I couldn’t stay there another minute with everyone looking at me and whispering.” Her voice was so muted he could hardly hear her.
“Angie, it was my fault.” He brough
t her back into his arms and breathed against her hair, taking in the fresh fragrance. “I should be the one to apologize.”
“No.” She kept her head down. “I don’t think we should see each other again.”
Simon was utterly stunned. “You don’t mean that.”
She shook her head. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, we won’t.” He held her at arm’s length. “We’ll talk about it now. I love you, Angie Robinson. Do you understand me?”
“Oh Simon, please don’t say that.”
“I love you,” he repeated.
“Don’t, Simon. This isn’t funny.”
“I tell a girl how I feel and she accuses me of joking? You have a lot to learn about me.”
She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. “Stop it right now, you hear?”
“I love Angie,” he shouted, tossing back his head. He wanted the world to know. Loving Angie wasn’t an embarrassment; she was the best thing that had ever happened in his life.
“Simon.”
“I love you,” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.
“I won’t go back there,” she whispered defiantly.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t put you through that.” With their fingers entwined, they walked to the parking lot. From there they drove to their favorite drive-in and ate thick hamburgers.
That summer Angie had gotten a part-time job working at Garland Pharmacy. Simon picked her up in the morning and dropped her back home when she was finished. He sometimes worked at the bank, but he didn’t recall that he did much of anything worthwhile.
“Are you going to be working there after college?” Angie asked one night. They were parked in their favorite spot at Three Tree Point.
“I’ll probably take over for my dad someday,” Simon answered, more interested in kissing Angie’s earlobe than talking.
“Is that what you want to do?”
Simon grinned and straightened. Angie had a way of doing this whenever their kissing became too hot and heavy. With any other girl he would have pressed her, but not Angie. He didn’t want to do anything she wasn’t ready to try. It wasn’t easy not to touch her. Some nights he was afraid the frustration would kill him.
“I’ve never thought about doing anything else but working in the bank. Why?”
“No reason.”
She was quiet after that and didn’t resist when he turned her lips to his and kissed her long and hard, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and sucking on it. Angie had a beautiful mouth: wide, soft, passionate. Simon loved the feel of it under his own. But then he loved everything about her.
As usual, he dropped her off a block before Oak. She sat for a moment, staring at her hands. “Lloyd Sipe was in Garland’s today.”
“And?”
“He asked me to a movie this weekend.”
Simon felt a lead balloon sink in his stomach. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I told him I wouldn’t.”
Simon relaxed.
“But I think it might be a good idea if we didn’t see so much of each other for a while.”
“Why?” he exploded.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Afraid because I love you so much. I … I want us both to start seeing others. Just until school starts. We can talk about things in September.”
Simon’s immediate reaction had been to argue, but eventually she had worn him down. They stopped dating. The separation nearly drove Simon crazy. He loved her; it was only natural that he wanted to be with Angie. But in the months that they’d been seeing each other, something else, something more far-reaching, had happened. Angie had become his best friend. Nothing seemed right without her. His life had been ripped open, leaving a gaping hole exposed. Even Cal, who had been Simon’s friend since grade school, couldn’t fill the gap. For a long time Simon didn’t date. He couldn’t see that it would do any good. When Angie realized he wasn’t seeing other girls, she started dating Lloyd Sipe. Simon got the message and asked out Kate Holston. He found her even more boring than Shirley. Later that summer his mother arranged a date for him with the visiting niece of one of her Garden Club friends. Jill Something-or-other had hidden a pint of vodka in her purse and proceeded to get smashed. By the end of the evening, Simon couldn’t drive her back to Auntie fast enough. Laughing, her hair in a wild disarray, Jill had placed her hand high on his thigh and claimed she wasn’t in any hurry to get home. If he knew “someplace private,” there were lots of things she could think of to do to kill time.
The first day of their senior year, Simon had stopped Angie in the hall. “You said we’d talk. Are you ready?”
She smiled and nodded.
They met outside the library and drove to Three Tree Point. Simon parked the car, turned off the engine, and reached for Angie. He held her so hard that for a moment he feared he might have hurt her. “It’s not the same,” he whispered into her hair. “It’ll never be right unless it’s you in my arms.”
Her own words were muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder, but the strength of her hold told him everything he needed to know.
With Angie, Simon was on the same intellectual and spiritual plane. By early the next spring they were a hairbreadth from exploring the sexual plane.
“Angie, I love you; I want to marry you.”
“Don’t ask me,” she pleaded, spreading eager kisses across his face. “Please, don’t ask.”
Simon was so inflamed that controlling himself took a superhuman effort. “We’ve got to stop, Angie. Right now. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft and willing. “I understand.”
He leaned his head against the back of the car seat and took in deep, agonizing breaths.
“Can … can you hold me, Simon?” she pleaded. “Just for a few minutes.”
“Oh Angie. This does it,” he muttered. “I’m talking to my dad tomorrow.”
Angie turned stricken eyes to him. “About what?”
“Us.”
“Simon, they’re not going to let us get married.”
“They can’t stop us. I love you. After last summer, I know I don’t ever want to be without you again.”
The confrontation with his parents had been the worst thing Simon had ever faced. Angie had wanted to go with him. Later he thanked God that he hadn’t let her. The first thing his mother asked him after he announced that he wanted to marry Angie was if she was pregnant.
Simon couldn’t believe that his mother would even suggest such a thing. It only proved that Georgia Canfield didn’t know Angie.
“Of course she isn’t. We haven’t even made love. Angie doesn’t want to until we’re married.”
“Can’t you see what she’s after?” his father had demanded. “This little girl from Oak Street isn’t stupid. Naturally she doesn’t want to do it until after you’re married. Men don’t like to pay for what they can get free.”
It took all of Simon’s restraint not to shout at his parents that it wasn’t like that with him and Angie. The taste of gall filled his mouth at the thought that the two people who supposedly loved him so much would try to take the beautiful relationship he shared with Angie and make it into a sordid, ugly thing.
“You’re only seventeen,” his mother pleaded.
“And in this state you need our permission to marry,” Simon Senior interjected. “And as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have it.”
His father had come to Simon’s bedroom later and sat on the mattress beside him. He draped a fatherly arm over Simon’s shoulder and assured him that Angie was the type of girl for Simon to sow his wild oats with. No need to marry her kind. Later, he suggested, another girl would come along from the right kind of people, and Simon would feel just as strongly about her. At seventeen, Simon wasn’t ready for the responsibilities a wife and possible family would entail. He should have fun with Angie, but be careful that she didn’t get pregnant. Simon’s jaw had been clenched so tight that his teeth
ached for hours afterward.
“You don’t need to tell me what they said,” Angie murmured, when they met later.
“Listen,” Simon argued, “I’ve got everything worked out. We’ll get married after my birthday.”
“But you’ll have left for college and …”
“I’m not going to the U.”
“Simon, you’ve got to. Your father went there, and his father before him.”
“Marrying you is more important than some stupid tradition.”
Angie’s shoulders had drooped as she slowly, sadly, shook her head. “I won’t let you do that.”
“We don’t have any choice.”
“Your schooling is important.”
“You’re the most important thing in my life, Angie.”
It had seemed crazy that the only serious rift in their relationship had been over getting married. Angie was adamant that Simon continue with his schooling in the fall. She wouldn’t marry him otherwise. What she didn’t know was that his father had already anticipated his son’s defiance and had threatened to cut off Simon’s trust fund money. Simon could never manage school while making a home for himself and Angie at the same time. As for college, he didn’t care. Even being approached about a possible basketball scholarship didn’t faze Simon. All he cared about was Angie.
Not finding a happy solution to their dilemma, Simon had come up with a compromise. It wasn’t the perfect answer. But when he said his vows in the church that night, he had meant every word.
Sweat poured off Simon from his long run just as effortlessly as the memories of Angie had filled his mind. He moved from the long driveway into the house and headed for the bathroom to shower. Stripping, he turned on the pulsating power spray and turned his face into the jet stream, letting water wash down on him. Even the pounding water whispered Angie’s name. He felt like singing. The realization produced a smile. It had been years since he’d sung in the shower.
Stepping onto the bathmat, Simon reached for a thick towel. A frown drove his dark brows together. His wet hair glistened as he eased his long arms into a starched dress shirt and fastened the top button. At seventeen he’d been more in love than he had at any other time in his life, he mused. A love that pure and good wasn’t supposed to happen to a rosy-cheeked kid. Most people search a lifetime and never experience what he had those years with Angie. With a vengeance, he jammed a gold cuff link into place.