Reflections of Yesterday (3 page)

The key to the hotel room wouldn’t fit into the lock as Angie struggled to steady her hand. She felt as if her legs were made of rubber. By the time she’d manipulated the lock, she was trembling and weak.

A soft sob erupted from her throat as she set her purse on the dresser. Angie’s hand gripped the back of the chair as another cry threatened. Tears blurred her eyes so that the view from the third-story window swam in and out of her vision.

At first she struggled to hold back the emotion, disliking the weakness of tears. Her fingers wiped the moisture from her cheek as she began to pace the room, staring at the ceiling.
Soon every breath became a heart-wrenching cry for all the pain of a love long past. She fell across the bed and buried her face in the pillow, crying out a lifetime of agony. She cried for the mother she had never known. And the weak father whom she loved. She cried for the empty promises of her father’s dreams, and the Canfield money that had given him the chance to fulfill them. And she cried for a town divided by railroad tracks that made one half unacceptable to the other and had doomed a love from the start.

Fresh tears filled her eyes. Glenn loved her enough to force her to settle the past. He loved her enough to want her for his wife.

Twisting around, Angie stared out the window at the blue sky. She wept for Glenn, the man she wasn’t sure she could marry.

And for Simon, the man she had.

The gleaming white envelope remained on the corner of Simon’s desk as he rolled back his chair and stood. For Angie to come to Groves Point had taken courage. To confront him and return that money had cost her a lot of pride. One thing Simon remembered vividly about Angie was that she might not have had two pennies to rub together, but when it came to pride, she had been the richest lady in town.

When he’d told her to leave, she’d turned for the door and hesitated. Her back had stiffened with resolve as she refused. In that minute it was as if twelve years had been wiped out and she was seventeen again. She’d been so beautiful, and she was just as beautiful today. Naturally, several things about her were different. No longer did her silky brown hair reach her waist. Now it was shoulder length and professionally styled so that it curled around her lovely oval face.

Her graceful curves revealed a woman’s body, svelte and elegant beneath a crisp linen business suit. There had been a time when Angie hated to wear anything but washed-out jeans and faded T-shirts.

Angie had been his first love and he had been hers. Together they had discovered the physical delights of their bodies. With excruciating patience, they had held off as long as they could, because it had been so important to Angie that they be married first.

Discipline might well have been their greatest teacher. In restraining their physical desires, they had learned the delicate uses of kissing and the exquisite pleasure of exploring fingers. Their hearts beat as one and they were convinced their love could overtake convention, prejudice, and everything else that loomed in their path.

Only it hadn’t. Angie had prostituted herself. Simon had loved her so much he would have willingly given his life for her. And now he wanted to hate her with the same intensity and discovered he couldn’t.

The bank was empty when Simon left his office. The envelope remained on his desk. He would do as Angie suggested and give it to charity. Money meant little to him. He’d had it all his life and had never been happy. The only real contentment he’d ever known had been those few months with Angie. Now it seemed that she, too, had discovered money’s limitations.

The Mercedes was parked in the side lot, and Simon was on Main Street before Angie drifted into his thoughts again. He wondered where she was staying and if she had come to town alone. She had used her maiden name, but he hadn’t thought to look for a diamond on her ring finger. If she hadn’t married, it would be a shock. One glance at the woman she had become revealed a rare jewel. Angie was a prize most men wouldn’t ignore.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Simon automatically took a left turn off Main onto Oak Street on his way to the country club. Tonight he needed a long workout. A flash of color captured his attention and he glanced across the green lawn of the city park. Cindy and Bob Shannon were in the front yard, firing up a grill. Dressed in blue shorts and a faded T-shirt was Angie. She sat on the Shannons’ porch with a beer bottle in her hand, chatting with her friends as if she hadn’t been away for more than a week. Charlie Young, their high school class’s football hero and the new owner of the town hardware store, came out the screen door and plopped down beside her. He said something to Angie, who threw back her head and laughed. The musical sound of her mirth drifted through the park to Simon, assaulting him from all sides.

The muscles of his abdomen tensed. Angie was where she belonged. She was with her friends.

The Mercedes caught Angie’s eye as it peeled down the narrow street. Simon. It had to be. She didn’t know of anyone else in town who could afford such an expensive car. The ten thousand she’d brought was petty cash to a man like Simon. Returning it was a matter of pride. She hadn’t touched a dime of it. Clay had spent it chasing dreams. Her father had insisted that the Canfields owed her that money. As far as Angie was concerned, the Canfields owed her nothing.

“You have to remember we’re rubbing elbows with the upper echelon,” Bob teased, twisting off the cap of a beer bottle. “Ol’ Charlie is now a member of the Groves Point Country Club.”

“Charlie!” Cindy gave a small squeal of delight. “That’s really something.”

Angie thought it revealing that a club would decide Charlie unacceptable one day and welcome him the next.

“I knew there was a reason I bought that hardware store.”

With the agility of a man well acquainted with the art of grilling, Bob flipped over the hamburgers as if he were handling hotcakes. “And tell us mere serfs, Your Worship, what’s it
like to mingle with the Canfields and the Radcliffs of our fair city?”

Casually Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “Why not find out yourselves? There’s a dinner tomorrow night and I’d like the three of you to come as my guests.”

Cindy tossed her husband a speculative glance. “Oh Bob, could we? I’ve always wanted to know what the inside of the country club looks like.”

Uneasy now, Bob cleared his throat. “I suppose this means I’ll have to wear a suit and tie.”

“Honey, you’ve got the blue one we bought on sale before Easter,” Cindy argued. The burst of excited happiness added a pinkish hue to her face. “Of course I’ll need to have something new,” she said, and shared a conspiratorial smile with her friend.

Admirably, Angie refrained from laughing. From the sound of them, they were all seventeen again and discussing prom night.

“What about you, Angie? Can you come?” Charlie was regarding her with an eager expression. From the minute Charlie had arrived he’d made it plain that he liked what he saw. His divorce was final, and he looked as if he was ready to try his hand at love again. In an effort to steer clear of his interest, Angie had taken pains to mention Glenn.

“Like Cindy, I’m afraid I haven’t a thing to wear,” Angie explained, and lifted her palm in a gesture of defeat.

“We’ll both go shopping!” Cindy exclaimed with enthusiasm. “I know the perfect shop in Fairmont.”

“Fairmont!” Bob choked. “Just don’t go using any credit cards.”

Slowly shaking her head, Cindy tossed her husband a playful look. “Robert, Robert, Robert. I’ve always said if the shoe fits, charge it.”

Angie woke with the first light of dawn. Sunlight splashed through the open draperies and spilled over the bed and walls. Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her face and stood. Her watch announced that it was barely six, hardly a decent hour to be up and about on a Saturday. Cindy wasn’t expecting her until ten. With four hours to kill, Angie dressed in old jeans and an Atlanta Braves T-shirt.

A truck stop on the outskirts of town was the only place open where she could get a cup of coffee. She’d hoped to avoid that area of town because the Canfields’ twenty-acre property
was in that direction.

As Angie climbed inside her small car, she realized coffee was only an excuse. Yes, she’d pull over at the truck stop, but her destination was the small clearing on the Canfield property. Something inside her needed to return there. The thought was a sad reflection of her emotional state. Twelve years had passed, and she hadn’t been able to forget the love she’d shared with Simon in that small clearing in the woods. The physical aspect of their relationship still had the power to inflict a rush of regret and sorrow. They’d been wrong to sneak into the church that night. Wrong to have gone against convention and the wishes of his parents. A few words whispered over her mother’s Bible had never been legally binding. But Angie had felt married even if Simon hadn’t.

The years had changed the land, and Angie nearly missed the turnoff from the highway. A long, sprawling house had been built, and the paved road led to the back and a three-car garage.

Hesitating, Angie decided to ignore the house and go on. The morning was young, and it wasn’t likely that she’d wake anyone. The road went deep into the property, and she could steal in and out without anyone knowing she’d ever come.

Leaving the car, Angie took care to close the door silently, not wanting the slightest sound to betray her presence. With her hands stuffed deep within her jeans pockets, she climbed over a fallen tree and ventured into the dense forest. A gentle breeze chased a chill up her arm, but the cold wasn’t from the wind. Her breathing had become shallow and uneven, and for a moment she wasn’t sure she could go on. Only once had she felt this unnerved, and that had been as a child, when she’d visited her mother’s grave.

There were similarities. In this clearing she was returning to a time long past and a love long dead. But from the way her nerves were reacting, nothing about this time and place had been forgotten. Every tree, every limb, was lovingly familiar.

To someone who didn’t know these woods, the clearing would come as a surprise. The climb up the hill was steep, and just when she felt the need to pause and rest, the quiet meadow came into view. Even now, the simple beauty of this small lea caused her to stop and breathe in the morning mist. The uncomplicated elegance had been untouched by time. As she walked down the hill to the center, Angie felt like a child coming home after a long absence. The urge to hold out her arms and envelop this feeling was overwhelming. She wanted to swing around and
sing, and laugh … and cry.

It had been here that Simon had held her in his arms and assured her that heaven and earth would pass away, but his love wouldn’t. It had been here that they’d talked of the children to come and the huge house he’d planned to build her.

She’d laughed when he’d taken a stick and drawn out the plans in the fertile ground. They’d have lots of bedrooms and a large kitchen with plenty of cupboard space. He’d build it himself, he claimed. And remembering the skill he had with wood, Angie didn’t doubt him.

Then that night in June, he had brought her to their imaginary home, lifted her in his arms, and carried her over the threshold. Drunk with happiness, she’d looped her arms around his neck and kissed his face until he demanded she stop.

“Just where are you taking me?” Angie had murmured, playfully nibbling on his earlobe with her teeth.

“To the master bedroom, where else, Mrs. Canfield?”

Angie tossed back her head and laughed. “Oh Simon, I do love you. I’ll make you the best wife in all of South Carolina.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he said, and kissed her until she was weak with longing. His tenderness had brought tears to her eyes as he unbuttoned her blouse and slowly slipped it from her shoulders. Her long hair fell forward as she bowed her head. Tears filled her dusky, dark eyes.

“Angie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I love you so much. It’s just …”

“What?” Gently, he had brushed the hair from her face and kissed the corner of her eyes, stopping the flow of tears. “Angie, I’d do anything in the world for you.”

“I’m being silly to cry over a piece of paper. I don’t need it. Not when I have you. But, Simon, do you think we’ll forget our anniversary?”

“I’ll never forget anything about you, or this night,” he vowed. Straightening, he had taken the knife from his pocket and crossed the meadow to a huge pecan tree. It stood regal and proud, the tallest tree on the edge of the clearing. With painstaking effort he’d engraved the date and their names in the bark. The tree would stand for all time as their witness.

A distant sound of a barking dog shook Angie from her reverie. The tree. That was what was missing, gone. Sadness overwhelmed her when she located the stump. From the look of it,
the tree had been crudely chopped down years ago. Simon had done this, cutting her out of his world as ruthlessly as the ax had severed the life of the mighty pecan. It shouldn’t hurt this much, she told herself. But it did. The pain dug as deep as the day Simon’s mother had come to her with the money.

Her legs felt as though they would no longer hold her upright, and she slumped down, sitting on the stump as the strength drained from her. Gone was the outrage, vanishing as quickly as it came. Her tears were those of sorrow for what they had lost. There was no more fight left in her. Simon had appointed himself judge and divorced her with an ax. If their marriage had been a document instead of bark, she at least would have had the advice of counsel. Without conscience he had cast their love aside as though it had no meaning.

A dog barked again and the sound was noticeably closer. Brushing the hair from her forehead, Angie straightened. A black Labrador raced into the clearing, barking, his tail and ears alert.

A sad smile touched Angie’s eyes. “Oh Blackie, is it really you?” Simon had trained the dog from a pup.

The angry dog ignored her, intent only in voicing his discovery.

“Blackie, don’t you remember me?” Crouched as she was, Angie held out her hand for him to smell. Blackie had once been her friend as well.