A Kiss Remembered (17 page)

She fell across the bed, hugging the pillow tight against her face as she screamed into it. Her body twisted against the excruciating pain of her soul. She vented her fury with tears and curses, pounding her fists into the mattress beneath her. Never had she succumbed to such a fit of temper, but then, never had her world been so unmercifully destroyed.

But the rage was soon spent, and she became exhausted. And the exhaustion was accompanied by despair, black and encompassing and absolute, suffocating her.

She rolled onto her back, heedless of the rumpled state of the carefully tailored silk suit. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

Why had she questioned Grant’s innocence? Suspicion had ruled her reactions. Why hadn’t she been angry at the wiles of Pru Zimmerman and offered her support to Grant? That was what he had expected her to do.

But she hadn’t.
Why?

Because deep down she felt there was the slightest possibility that it might be true. She had told him repeatedly that the scandal with Missy Lancaster didn’t matter to her, but apparently it did. The seeds of mistrust had been planted in her brain to burst into life with the first breath of uncertainty.

Could everyone else except her be wrong about him? That didn’t seem likely. Was the love she’d always had for him blinding her to the duplicity of his true nature? Was she still no more than an infatuated teenager accepting everything he said as dogma?

She didn’t think he’d been with Pru Zimmerman since she had become his assistant. The girl could be lying just to make good her threat to get even with him for spurning her. But Pru had felt comfortable enough at his duplex to waltz right in… .

“Oh, God,” she cried and buried her face in the pillow again.

None of that made any sense. The way he’d looked at her from the first day he had spoken to her, the way they had loved so unrestrainedly that very afternoon, couldn’t be misinterpreted. He must love her. Passion of that magnitude couldn’t be faked.

For hours the thoughts swirled through her mind in a macabre dance. One moment she wanted to run to him, to beg his forgiveness for her lack of faith in him, the next she was remembering that he had kissed her when she was only sixteen. Missy Lancaster had been more than a decade younger than he. So was Pru.

In his mind, was she in the same category with them?
No, no.

“Shelley?”

A light tapping on her door caused her to stir. Groggily she sat up on the edge of the bed. “Yes, Mom.”

The door was opened and a wedge of light sliced across the room. When had it grown dark? “I thought you might like some tea.”

She nodded absently. “Thank you. That sounds good.”

Her mother set a tray on the bedside table. “Here, dear, let’s get you out of that suit.”

Within minutes she was lying between the sheets in a nightgown much more prim than the one she had planned to be sleeping in that night. She looked at the pillow beside hers, the one Grant would have used. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her mother took her hand and pressed it sympathetically.

“Go to sleep, dear. You need to sleep.”

The dishes rattled slightly as her mother carried out the tea tray. When the room was plunged into darkness once more, Shelley soon found the oblivion of sleep too appealing to resist.

Her parents reluctantly left the next morning. They offered to stay with her for a few days, but Shelley preferred being alone. Feeling like a shell of a human body from which the heart and soul had been scraped, she maintained a solitary life for the next several days.

On the third day, she ate for the first time. She called friends in her various classes and asked for copies of their lecture notes, knowing that at some point in the future, she’d have to get on with the business of living again. She couldn’t afford to get too far behind in her studies. The building of her career would be the only thing she had to look forward to.

When her classmates came by with the requested notes, she didn’t invite them in, claiming she had a dreadful virus that her doctor said was highly contagious.

Her parents called every night and she strove to inject some animation into her voice so they wouldn’t worry. Little did she know how forced her speech sounded.

It was with the same lethargy that Shelley pulled herself out of bed Friday morning. Mechanically she dragged herself into the kitchen and began to make unwanted coffee. When the phone rang, she reached to answer it without any interest.

“Shelley,” her mother said peremptorily, “your father and I think you should come home for a few days. You’ve got to get out of that house.”

She slumped against the counter. “No, mother. For the last time, I’ll be all right. It’ll just take awhile to get over him.”

“I don’t think so. You always had a special feeling for this man, didn’t you, Shelley?” her mother asked softly.

“Yes, Mom. Always,” she admitted.

Mrs. Browning sighed. “I thought so. That whole year, I think it was your junior year, he was all you talked about. When he left, you went into a decline, lost interest in everything. At first I didn’t put two and two together, but when you continued to drop his name, always wistfully, I began to wonder. Eventually you seemed to recover and went away to college. I had forgotten all about him until he called that day. I was surprised to hear from him out of the blue like that. Once he’d introduced himself—”

Shelley pressed the telephone receiver closer to her ear. “He called?” she breathed. “He called? When? He came to Poshman Valley?”

Her mother recognized instantly the new alertness in Shelley’s voice. “No, he telephoned from Oklahoma City. He said he had come down to the capital on an errand for one of the congressional representatives. I—”

“What did he want?”

“He … he asked about you, wanted to know what you were doing, where you were.”

Shelley’s heart had begun to pound. He hadn’t forgotten about her! He’d called! She swallowed hard. “Mom, when was this?
What
was I doing?
Where
was I?”

“Oh gosh, Shelley, I don’t remember. I think it was in the spring just after you married Daryl. Yes, I think so because I remember you and Daryl were talking about your quitting school to go to work and—”

“I was married. And you told Grant that?”

“Well, yes. I told him you were married and living in Norman. I’m surprised he never told you this.”

Shelley’s head dropped. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the stabbing pain behind them. He had tried to contact her and she had already been married. He had been in Oklahoma City. So close. She’d only been married a few months. He’d gone back to Washington and she’d never known he had called. So close. If she hadn’t been married she could have met him and … So close. If only … But it had been too late. Too late …
Then!

Her eyes flashed open, her head snapped up, and the spiderwebs in her brain fell away. “What time is it?” she asked, glancing wildly at the wall clock. “Nine-forty. Good-bye, Mom, I’ll call you later. I’ve got to hurry. Oh, and thanks!”

She threw down the telephone receiver and swept out of the room like a tornado, tearing off her robe as she ran across the living room.

“I’m going after him. Something I should have done a long time ago,” she said to herself as she stepped into boots and pulled on a dress. Grant couldn’t have gotten that girl pregnant. “Besides that, he loves me. I know it.”

She whirled into the bathroom to hastily apply her makeup. Luckily she had showered and washed her hair the night before.

“I’ve loved him for ten years,” she said to the reflection in the mirror. “I should have gone to him directly after I graduated from high school and told him that. Gone straight to Washington to see him, or called him, or written him, but I didn’t. A nice girl doesn’t do things like that. She does what’s expected of her. She marries an acceptable man whether she loves him or not. She goes with the flow and never swims upstream.”

She had always loved Grant, but had lacked the courage to claim that love. All her life she’d been afraid of creating the tiniest ripple. This time, if she had to, she was going to make a wave.

“Young lady, you’d better have a very good reason for disrupting this meeting and barging your way in here,” the judge said sternly.

“I do,” Shelley stated without timidity. She looked directly at Pru Zimmerman. “She’s lying. Mr. Chapman couldn’t possibly have fathered her baby, if indeed she’s pregnant.”

After arriving at the courthouse, Shelley had discovered that the hearing was being held in the judge’s chambers. Apparently the parties were going to try to settle the suit out of court.

Shelley had approached the court bailiff, handed him a note and insisted that she be allowed into the chambers as she had information pertinent to the lawsuit being reviewed. The bailiff was hesitant, but finally obliged her by taking the note inside.

She’d heard Grant’s loud “No” of objection and the protests of Pru Zimmerman, but she’d been allowed to go in. Facing the querulous judge had caused her barely a qualm. Now that she had boldly made her statement, she felt a great sense of pride.

For the first time since she had entered the judge’s chambers, Shelley looked at Grant. His eyes telegraphed his love to her. She almost sank to the floor with relief that he didn’t blame her for her temporary lack of trust.

“Miss Zimmerman is undeniably pregnant,” the judge told her. “We have an affidavit to that effect from a reputable doctor, Mrs. Robins. On what do you base your statement?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Chapman has shown on several occasions that he has no interest in this girl. Miss Zimmerman came to his house once while I was there and pushed her way inside. Mr. Chapman insisted that she leave immediately and not come back. At that time she promised to get even with him for his rejection of her. I think this is her means to do so.” She explained, too, about the time Pru had telephoned. “Mr. Chapman wasn’t happy over the call. He didn’t even want to talk to her.”

“You’re drawing conclusions, but I’ll let that pass for now,” he said. “On these occasions when you were at Mr. Chapman’s house”—the judge cleared his throat—“were you there on a purely platonic basis?”

There was a heavy silence in the room. “No.”

The judge’s eyebrows shot upward. He then allowed a few ponderous moments to pass while he tapped a pencil against a stack of papers on his desk. He looked toward the table where Pru Zimmerman sat whispering with her attorney. Then his hawklike eyes slid to Grant.

“Mr. Chapman, I’m not unfamiliar with that unfortunate matter in Washington. Whether you were blameless in that affair or not has no bearing on this. However, once a man is implicated in a scandal, he is vulnerable to false accusations. I remind you that you are still under oath. Have you ever had carnal knowledge of Miss Zimmerman?”

“I have not.” His voice was low, vibrant, firm, indisputable.

Pru Zimmerman squirmed in her chair when the judge pinned her with his stern eyes. “Well?”

Her face and her composure collapsed at the same time. She covered her face with her hands. “My boyfriend left me. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The room was filled with confusion. While Pru’s attorney led her from the chambers, she begged both Grant and Shelley to forgive her for lying. Finally, the judge recited the legal jargon that would officially dismiss the case against Grant.

When he was done, Grant lunged across the room, wrapped his hand around Shelley’s arm and drew her to a more private spot near the window. His hands cupped her face and lifted it up to meet the love burning in his eyes. “Why did you put yourself through that? The truth would have come out in only a few short minutes.”

“I wanted you to know how explicitly I trust you. How much I love you. Forgive me for letting you down when you needed my faith the most.”

He kissed her gently on the mouth. “I’ll admit I was mad as hell when I left your house, but I’ve had all week to think about it. One can’t really blame a bride for getting upset when her groom is slapped with a paternity suit on the day of the wedding.” He laughed, but it was a sad sound. “God, I’m sorry, Shelley. If we live to be a hundred years old, I’ll never be able to make that up to you.”

“You already have. By loving me.”

“But this may not be the last time something like this happens. As the judge said, my character and reputation will be suspect for a long time.”

“I can handle anything as long as I know you love me.”

“I do.” He clasped her to him as though he wanted to make her part of his body.

“Grant, why didn’t you tell me you had called asking for me years ago?”

He straightened to look down at her. “How did you know about that?”

“Mother accidentally told me this morning. Why didn’t you tell me that at the beginning?”

“I was afraid you might think I was grandstanding. Or you might have thought I was clinging to the past and not seeing you as the woman you are now. Once I knew how you felt about me, I hesitated to tell you. You were bitter enough about your marriage. I didn’t want you lamenting over things that might have been.”

“I’ll always regret the years we wasted apart, regret that I didn’t let you know what I felt once I was old enough to realize it wasn’t merely idol worship.”

“Let’s not waste any more time,” he whispered, raking his lips across hers.

“What do you mean?”

“Judge?” he called to the man who was straightening his desk. The judge looked up, surprised to see them now that everyone else had left. “Would you do us a favor? Would you marry us?”

“You don’t look like any banker I’ve ever seen,” Grant drawled from the door of the bathroom as she stepped out of the shower.

“And you just love telling me that,” she said, flicking her fingers close to his face and sprinkling it with water.

He took the towel out of her hand and tossed it on the floor. “Let’s just say I’ve never had a lech for a loan officer before. I’ve never had the urge to do this.” He covered her breast with his hand and rotated the palm over the puckering nipple. “Nor have I ever seen a banker carrying a sweet little bundle like this.” His other hand smoothed over the gentle swelling of her abdomen.