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He loved home cooking, though he rarely got any. But just the thought of a home-baked apple pie could make him delirious. What was the point of polite pretense?
“You’re on. I love that stuff.”
He finished his third piece of pie and stretched lazily. “Happiness is having ‘a good bank account, a good cook and a good digestion.’ Two out of three’s not bad.” Amanda Ross turned sharply around and stared at the man who’d just eaten half of a roasting chicken, seven biscuits and more than half a pie. He leaned back, watching her. Had she thought he wouldn’t know anything except the way in which wires and hammers functioned on string instruments? From the look on her face, she hadn’t expected a housemate knowledgeable in literature, which he assumed was her specialty.
“I see you’ve been reading Rousseau.”
He smiled wickedly, enjoying her surprise. “And I see you’ve mixed up your metaphors.”
She got up and began to clear the table. “You’ve got many sides; we’ll get along.” Nodding in agreement, Marcus rose and took the plates from her.
“The one who cooks shouldn’t wash dishes. And we’ll do the housework and other chores together. You should have put that in the contract.” And he should have put it in a contract with Helena. She hadn’t done much more than sleep at home, not even after Amy’s birth. Oh, but she had punished him!
“It’s been my experience that one ought to look ahead and start the way one can finish. And that’s from Ross. Amanda Ross.”
“Yeah? Well ‘the only thing that experience teaches us is that experience teaches us nothing.’” He waited for her to identify the quote.
“Maurois, right?” He nodded. She showed him the washer and dryer so that he could wash his underwear, socks and shirt, gave him a large beach towel and bade him good-night.
For the first time since she had learned of her pregnancy, she didn’t dread going to bed. She would sleep. All still wasn’t right with the world, but the outlook was certainly improving.
Several days later, Amanda sat in Jacob Graham’s waiting room. The same painting hung facing her on the wall, and the simple red and gray furnishings hadn’t changed but, to her eyes, the old looked new and what had seemed dull now glowed. She stood when the doctor walked toward her.
“I hope you’ve got something good to tell me,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulder. “Come on in the examining room.” She told him about her agreement with Marcus.
“That’s the best solution for you two; I’m glad you worked it out by yourselves.” She explained about the health certificate she needed.
“All right, and while I’m at it, we’ll see how the baby is coming along. You’re in good shape,” he told her later and advised her to choose a gynecologist in Caution Point. As she left, he assured her, “You will never meet a finer man than Marcus Hickson. I hate to see him down on his luck this way, but I don’t doubt for a minute that he’ll snap back. If you need me, you know where I am.”
She skipped down the walkway to her car, picked up a green crab apple from the lawn and sent it sailing through the air. Turning, she waved to the doctor who stood in the doorway smiling, got in her car and drove off. She stopped at Caution’s Coffee Bean and ordered a chocolate shake from the lone waiter who nodded and asked whether she’d hit the lottery.
“Haven’t seen you this bright in a while now,” he said.
“Haven’t felt this bright,” she answered, smiling to herself. She walked out into the sunlight and looked up and down State Street for her friend Sam, the rag man, who’d been sweeping that street for as long as she could remember, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stopped by the Albemarle Kiddies Roost and bought a book on pregnancy and two on child care. At last, she could have the pleasure of planning for her baby.
Chapter 2
Four days later, in the presence of Jack and Myrna Culpepper, Lorrianne and Jacob Graham and Luke Hickson, Amanda married Marcus in the parsonage of the Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church in Elizabeth City. She had stamped her foot belligerently and made Marcus understand that, even if theirs wasn’t a real marriage, she would not repeat her vows before a Justice of the Peace. When he realized that she was not going to relent, he had conceded defeat and agreed, flashing his charismatic smile and shrugging as if to say, you win some and you lose some. He had also been elegant in an oxford-gray pinstriped suit, pale gray on gray shirt and yellow tie, and his lingering, appreciative look made her glad that she had splurged on a flattering Dior blue silk suit and matching hat. Her eyes misted when Marcus handed her a bouquet of six calla lilies just before the ceremony began; the flowers made it seem like a real, lovers’ wedding. But she noticed the glances that passed between the two brothers when she showed her pleasure and wondered which of them had thought of the flowers.
Two days after the ceremony, on the morning of Amy’s scheduled operation, Marcus stumbled into the kitchen. The rain pouring down in sheets, and a visibility of barely three feet failed to daunt him. He’d be soaked when he got to the hospital, but he wouldn’t think of complaining; Amy meant everything to him, and she would finally have a chance to be well again. He stopped abruptly at the kitchen door, hands on his hips and the surprise on his face unmasked. He hadn’t thought he’d find Amanda there, the table set for one and the odor of food permeating the room at six o’clock in the morning. And when she asked him to sit down and eat a meal of scrambled eggs, country sausage patties, home fries, hot buttermilk biscuits, orange juice and coffee, a feeling of discomfort pervaded him.
“Aren’t you eating?” he asked. He didn’t want to be treated like a husband. He wasn’t a husband; he was a man caught without options and paying a harsh penalty for it. He knew that she sensed his suddenly dark mood and that she even understood the reason for it. Though he tried to hide what he felt, her forced smile was evidence that he hadn’t succeeded. But what was he to do? He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want this cozy husband-wife relationship with her. He didn’t even know her.
“I’d love to be able to eat that,” she said, apparently deciding that it would be she and not he who would set the tone of their relationship. “It’s what I usually have but, these mornings, crackers and club soda are as much as I can manage.”
In spite of himself a feeling of protectiveness toward her sprouted within him. “Bear with me, Amanda. My nerves are raw this morning, what with the operation and all.” Her refusal to take offense at his cool manner was as much punishment as he needed. He told himself he’d make it up to her.
“It’s pouring outside. I’ll drive you.” But as they reached the attached garage, she handed him the keys, and he took them without hesitation, all his battered ego needed right then was for her to drive while he sat beside her like an underaged kid. They drove to Caution Point General in silence, and he wondered whether he’d be able to endure the year ahead. Amanda parked, while he rushed in to comfort and reassure Amy before the doctors anesthetized her. A few minutes later, Amanda walked into the waiting room and sat down, giving him another surprise.
“I thought you’d gone home.”
“I couldn’t leave you here alone for hours, maybe all day, waiting for the outcome of the operation. I’m human, Marcus.” He looked at her through long, slightly lowered lashes. She was human, all right, and she had an old-fashioned mother instinct. Amy would fall in love with her and, when they separated, his child would be motherless again. But this time, she’d be old enough to feel the pain of separation. A sense of foreboding engulfed him. He didn’t want his child hurt because of the bargain he’d made with Amanda. But what choices did he have? He dropped his head into his hands; helplessness was foreign to him.
He had always prided himself in having the intelligence and the mother wit to anticipate and circumvent problems, and the mental stamina and physical strength to handle whatever caught him unaware. He had never shirked a responsibility nor dodged an obligation. And he knew how to be a friend. But it was quid pro quo with him and Amanda, and he didn’t want to be more obligated to her than he was. Like that breakfast this morning. He hadn’t had such a wonderful breakfast since he’d left his parents’ home more than a dozen years earlier. He didn’t know how he could stop Amanda from behaving like a wife without crushing her spirit, and he’d be less than a man if he added to the emotional battering under which she was struggling. But he couldn’t let Amy form an attachment to her. He knew Amy would need and love Amanda, because Amanda was lovable, and then they’d go their separate ways. Not on your life, he swore silently, as he tried to banish a persistent thought: You’re already going to miss her. Give her a year and see how you’ll feel. He stiffened. If his hunch was correct; keeping her own child out of old man Lamont’s clutches would be a full-time job, and that problem was bound to surface as soon as Amanda had her baby. He’d better be prepared for it.
In spite of her lack of experience with men, Amanda wasn’t so naive that she thought she could change Marcus or that he would look upon her as his salvation. He hated and resented that he had been forced to relinquish his personal freedom. She knew that, and she hardly blamed him. What she didn’t understand was why he wouldn’t try harder to make the best of it for both their sakes. Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that she was also a victim and that she might find their situation just as repulsive as he did?
She looked at the big clock hanging on the wall near the nurses’ station in clear view of the waiting room and shuddered. What a thoughtless reminder of passing time for anxious relatives and friends! One o’clock. They had been waiting for five hours, and barely a word had passed between them. Did he know she was there? She left the room just as Marcus buried his head in his arms.
“Marcus.” He looked up in response to her gentle touch. “I’ve brought us a little something to eat.”
“What time is it?” She told him, and watched helplessly as the color drained from his face.
“She’s so little. What could they be doing to her all this time?” Amanda risked draping an arm over his shoulder as she sat beside him and handed him a paper container of coffee.
He glanced up at her. “Thanks.” Encouraged, she passed him a ham sandwich. He bit into it.
“Have you been here all this time? Wouldn’t you think they’d have enough feeling to come out and tell me something? It’s my child in there.”
“Have faith, Marcus. You hired a team of the best physicians in the country. Isn’t it good that they’re taking their time and doing it right so she won’t have to go through this again? I know it’s tough, but it can’t be much longer.” As she spoke, she let her left hand move gently over his broad shoulders, circling and patting him, in an offering of support. He seemed barely aware of it. She talked on, keeping her voice very low and soft, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t difficult. He seemed to be hurting too badly to rebuff her tenderness and caring.
An hour and a half later, huddled together with Amanda’s left arm around Marcus and her right hand grasping his right forearm, they didn’t see Luke as he approached. “How’s it going? Any word, yet?”
Marcus shook his head. “They’re still with her.” He knew that Luke loved the child and was as glad as he that she would have the chance to be like other children again. He felt the comforting arm around him and settled into it, neither caring nor wondering why it was there. He needed it. No words passed between them until finally the doctor appeared, still wearing his surgical greens.
“We’ve done all that we can. The rest is up to God, the therapists and Amy.” Marcus didn’t want to hear that and, at his profane outburst, the doctor assured them that she would be as good as new if instructions were followed to the letter.
“May I see her? I just have to see that she’s all right.” The doctor’s assurance that she was all right, but asleep and in intensive care, didn’t satisfy him.
Marcus turned to Amanda. “I’m going to stay here until I see her. You go on home. And drive carefully. Ocean Avenue was very slippery this morning.”
Amanda didn’t want to leave Marcus, but she did as he asked when Luke promised her that he would remain with his brother. She shopped at the supermarket and had just turned into her lane when she saw a stray kitten, the worst for having been in the heavy morning downpour. Amanda didn’t like pets, because she thought that animals should be free. But she couldn’t bear to see a being suffer, so she took the kitten and her groceries in the house, dried the weak little animal, fed it and put it in a padded basket. She changed her clothes and started dinner, but the kitten cried until she gave it her attention. Marcus arrived several hours later with Luke to find her lounging in an oversized living room chair with her bare feet tucked under her trying to calm the little creature.
Luke paused in the doorway, as though fearing to intrude further; the sight of this adult woman lovingly stroking a kitten while singing it a lullaby, albeit out of tune had dumbfounded Marcus. Luke turned to his brother, intending to remark on the drollery of that bizarre little scene but, one look at him, and the words died unspoken in his throat. With her head bowed and her voice low and sultry, Amanda sang softly, slowly stroking the little cat. Marcus’ eyes sparkled rustic fire, his lips were slightly parted, his face open and filled with emotion. Luke knew that he had never before seen this Marcus, this man smoldering with desire. And he didn’t doubt that Marcus wanted to exchange places with that kitten. What a pity that Amanda didn’t see her husband’s face!
As if she sensed their presence, Amanda looked up, her eyes locking with Marcus’ heated gaze. Luke watched as she caught her breath and lowered her gaze, flustered; surely his brother must see that Amanda was vulnerable to him, aware of him as a man. He shook his head sadly; she was a tender, gentle woman, but would Marcus give up his cynicism and allow himself to see that? He didn’t hold out much hope for it.
Marcus stood rooted to the spot, speechless, remembering how she had held him, caressed and soothed him while he had waited in agony for news about Amy’s surgery. And ingrate that he was, he told himself, he had repaid all of her caring with rudeness. He hadn’t even wanted Luke to come home with him, hating to dignify his circumstances by sharing his temporary home with his brother.
“How is she?” Amanda’s obvious embarrassment as she managed to break the silence aroused his compassion.
“She recognized both of us.” Marcus banked the desire raging in him and tried to smile, but he was so shocked at his unexpected reaction to Amanda that he managed little more than a grimace. “She’s bandaged from her hips to her toes, and she’s heavily sedated, but the worst is over.” He walked slowly over to her. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For being there when I needed someone.”
She smiled. “You would have done the same for me.” She turned to his brother. “Luke, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. I cooked with you in mind.”
“No need for that; we’ll go out,” Marcus said, still unwilling to accept the place as his home and unable to hide his concern for his status there. He saw that Luke’s sympathies were with Amanda when his brother shook his head, and he could almost read Luke’s mind, could almost hear him saying for the nth time: “It’s time you let go of the past and stopped nursing the hatred and bitterness that you’ve wrapped yourself in ever since Helena betrayed you.” Well, I’m the one wearing these shoes, not Luke, he told himself.
Luke scowled fiercely at Marcus, then smiled at Amanda. “I’d love to stay for dinner, Amanda. I get enough of restaurants.” Marcus knew that Luke didn’t care how much he fumed; Luke took the commandment about justice and mercy seriously, even when it wasn’t in question.
“I want to find out what kind of cook my sister-in-law is.” Marcus wasn’t fooled by the remark; it had been intended to please Amanda and to put her at ease. If it made him furious, Luke didn’t mind. He watched Amanda put the kitten in the basket and start toward the kitchen. But when it was deprived of her body warmth, the little animal cried, and Amanda stooped to take it into her arms.
“When did you get a cat?” Marcus asked. He wasn’t fond of cats. More accurately, he disliked them. Amanda explained how she got it and that she planned to take it to a shelter on Monday. A picture of Amanda nursing her baby, coddling it and loving it flashed through his mind’s eye; that child was a lucky one. His Amy hadn’t had that kind of loving from her mother. Could he deny her the sweetness, the loving acceptance that Amanda would shower on her? He glanced at the woman he’d married and couldn’t believe that he hadn’t previously noticed her café au lait complexion and large wistful black eyes. Heart-stopping eyes. Cut it out, man, he admonished himself.
Amanda went on to the kitchen, through the long hallway and past the dining room, wondering why not having a cat around had pleased him so much. He didn’t want them to get too close; she was sure of that. But when he had needed her, she’d had a glimpse of the man without the veneer, without the antiwoman armor that he wore either naturally or for her benefit, she wasn’t sure which. A minute earlier, he’d silently told her that she was in some way special. He confused her. She sensed that Luke was different, more open. When she met him at her wedding, she knew at once that he was an easier, gentler man than his brother. A man with Marcus’ aura of danger but without his anger.
Luke looked around the living room, attempting to glean something of Amanda’s personality, while his brother paced the floor. Her taste in art appealed to him, because he, too, loved the paintings of John Biggers, Elizabeth Catlett and Jacob Lawrence, artists who dug deep into the black soul. Realizing that Marcus hadn’t placed anything of his own in the room because he’d probably decided that the arrangement was temporary and didn’t want to forget that, Luke faced him.
“I’ve got to talk to you.” He could see that Marcus wasn’t ready to give up the pain he felt because of his circumstances, that he found that pain enjoyable, like a balm for his wounded pride or a nice safe place to put his worries.
“It’s a free country,” Marcus told his brother.
“Lighten up, will you, Marcus? Don’t you realize that she’s doing everything she can to make life as pleasant as possible for the two of you? What do you think having to ask you to marry her in these circumstances and paying you to do it has done to her pride? You’re too old for this stubbornness. Can’t you see that you’ve gotten so used to having problems—pretty awful ones, I grant you—that you’ve closed your eyes to the truth. You have struck gold, man, but you don’t even recognize relief when you have it.” He moved to put an arm around his brother’s shoulder, but Marcus stepped away.
“You’re annoyed, but you’ll think about what I’ve said, because you’re a man of conscience and honor. You’ve been reliving Helena’s treachery and betrayal long enough.”
Luke didn’t wait for a reaction. He had already decided that he wanted to talk with Amanda, see what she was like. Even before meeting her, he’d been impressed with her refusal to let Marcus treat their marriage as though it was an incident of no special significance and with her request that they have a dignified ceremony. And after what he’d seen of her today, first with Marcus at the hospital and then with that kitten, he felt that he pretty much understood her, and he had a hunch that she could light up Marcus’ life.
Amanda flipped on the oven light and bent to check her pork roast. When she straightened, a wave of dizziness almost sent her sprawling, but Luke must have stepped into the kitchen just in time to see it. She felt his steadying hand.
“Easy there.” He guided her to a chair and sat her down.
“Where do you keep the glasses?” But even as he asked, he’d found them and was at the sink getting a glass of cold water.
“Drink a little. It will help steady you.” Amanda sipped while Luke waited for her to empty the glass. He’s got a low, gentle voice, she thought, but you wouldn’t dare disobey it.
“Thanks. That’s the first time that’s happened. I thought that once I got over the morning sickness, that would be it for the day.” She didn’t mean it as a complaint, just an observation.
“When are you expecting the baby, Amanda?”
Her lashes swept up quickly. Marcus hadn’t bothered to ask. “November seventh. The doctor was certain, because there’s only been that one time.” She could see that her remark had made him curious, though he tried to appear casually interested. She was thirty-nine years old, after all; any man would wonder about that statement.
“What do you mean, ‘that one time’?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this. But there’s so much I don’t understand. I never discussed anything personal with my father and I’m an only child, so there wasn’t a brother to talk with. And Marcus hasn’t invited any intimacies between us. I feel closer to you than I do to him, but there are things that I could ask him that I don’t think I should be discussing with you.” When Luke glanced toward the kitchen door, she realized he didn’t want to offend his brother, but that he wanted to help her if he could.
“What are you talking about, Amanda?”
She laced her fingers and looked first to the ceiling and then to the floor, before settling her gaze on the refrigerator. “I thought the baby’s father cared for me like I cared for him. But it seems I was just a challenge. He’d made a bet with his buddies, and he won it. He wasn’t nice to me, Luke, although he must have known…he had to know that he was hurting me and he wouldn’t stop. I had to go to the emergency room. He had courted me persistently for six months, but after that night he never called or wrote, and I never saw him again. I had been lonely after my aunt Meredith died, and I didn’t know much about men. I have nightmares about it sometimes. Luke, isn’t there any gentleness in men? If there is, I have never experienced it, not in my father, my baby’s father, nor my coworkers. And so far, not much in my husband.”
Luke bit back an explosive expletive. “I always thought that most men are gentle with women, Amanda. Are you telling me that Marcus mistreats you? I can’t believe he’d lay a finger on you. He’s not that type of man.”
Amanda stood and began to set the table. “Of course not. I know he’s a gentleman, Luke. It’s just…well, if I do anything for him…This morning, I fixed him a good breakfast, but that made him uncomfortable, and anytime he finds himself being nice to me, he quickly withdraws. It’s like he’s trying to make me pay for something I didn’t do.” Luke rested a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“He had a hard time with Amy’s mother, but he’s softening. You can help him, and he can help you. In fact, if the two of you were ever to communicate, really communicate, you’d see that you need each other.”
His words failed to placate her. She had realized earlier that evening that she was vulnerable to Marcus, that she was attracted to him, and it frightened her. She walked to the back door, pretending to look for something on the porch, while she restrained the tears. She didn’t want Luke’s pity or anyone else’s, but her feelings about Marcus, her situation and their relationship troubled her. She stepped back inside and closed the door and, with her back to the kitchen, looked into the darkness. She spoke to him quietly, resigned. “I’m going to pay for that one night for the rest of my life.”
Luke shook his head. “You don’t have to go through with it, you know.”
“Yes I do. Anyway, I don’t have anyone now. At least I’ll have someone to love and to love me. But Marcus says that the baby’s grandfather might try and take the child from me, if he learns about it.”
Luke had heard Marcus walking toward the kitchen, but didn’t look in his direction; it wouldn’t hurt Marcus to know what his wife had experienced and what she feared.
“Who is he?”
“Pearce Lamont, Sr. He lives in Portsmouth.”
“I know him and I know where he lives.” He walked around to face her and handed her his business card: Lieutenant Luke Stuart Hickson, Detective; Portsmouth Police Department. “Don’t worry about Lamont. If he gives you any trouble, let me know.” He acknowledged her thanks with a nod, thinking that she had a lovely smile. But her smile faltered and, glancing around, he frowned in concern. Had she stopped smiling because she’d seen Marcus?
“Where’s this dinner you were promising?” She glanced at Marcus and then smiled when his relaxed manner indicated that the three of them would spend an enjoyable evening. She had wondered what Marcus was doing alone in the living room, whether he was brooding about Amy. She took pleasure in having controlled her urge to go to him, suspecting that he had needed to be alone in order to recoup from the trauma of their long wait for the doctors’ verdict.
Amanda asked Marcus to say grace, explaining that her aunt Meredith had always said that, in a civilized home, the head of the house always says grace before meals. Marcus looked as if he wasn’t sure he was head of that house, but a smirking Luke bowed his head and waited. Marcus said the grace. Amanda wouldn’t have admitted that she had set out to impress Luke with her cooking, but that was the effect she got. He had as big an appetite as his brother, and as he swallowed his fifth biscuit, he told her, “If you feed Marcus like this every night, you’ll never get rid of him.” In a reflexive action, she reached over and gently wiped the scowl from Marcus’ face and got an embarrassed grin for her effort. Her innocent gesture seemed to surprise and please Luke, and she was happier than she’d been at any time since her marriage. She felt that she had a friend and ally in her brother-in-law, and her instinct told her that, in the months to come, she would need his support.
Innocently desiring to communicate to Marcus the feeling that Luke gave her, she told her husband, “I like your brother, Marcus.”
Marcus fingered his emerging beard and shrugged his left shoulder. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Liking Luke is something women just seem to do automatically.”
Rather taken aback, she responded honestly. “Oh, I can see that Luke is very handsome, Marcus, but not more so than you. Perhaps even less. Do you have any more brothers?” Marcus stopped eating and looked at his wife.
“No. You really think I’m better looking than Luke? You’re pulling my leg. You’ve got to be. Luke’s on the stud list of every matchmaking matron in Portsmouth. If a celebrity beauty comes to town, he’s the man they ask to escort her. He once squired Miss America around Portsmouth. Tell her how many tuxedos you’ve got, Luke.”
Luke’s gruff response reflected his discomfort and belied his commanding presence. “He’s overstating it, Amanda. They all know that I’m a widower, and they take advantage of it.” Amanda postponed commiserating with Luke over his status as widower and turned to her husband. First things first.
“Luke is nice, Marcus, but you’ve got the most bewitching eyes I’ve ever looked into in my life.” She plowed on; make hay while the sun’s shining, Aunt Meredith had always said. “Have you been wearing dark glasses, or are the women in Portsmouth all blind?” Marcus actually blushed, and Luke clearly delighted in it. The exchange gave Amanda food for thought: The brothers enjoyed each other’s company; they loved each other. So this was what she had missed in not having a sibling.
“What’s so funny?” Marcus blustered, but both his wife and his brother could see his delight in Amanda’s compliment.
Luke watched Marcus clear the table, scrape the dishes and put them in the dishwasher while Amanda made coffee and got the dessert. What interested him most was that they did it without uttering a word. Teamwork, he thought. Don’t they know that they would make a great team if they tried? He’d never seen Helena and Marcus cooperate on any level; they had always seemed to be at cross-purposes.
When Amanda served the deep-dish apple pie à la mode, Luke threw his head back and roared with laughter. Marcus knew from his brother’s cheshire grin that Luke was delighted at his discomfort. He scowled. Sure, Amanda was catering to his passion for apple pie. Well, let her. Nobody could blame her for trying. Beside, she made the best apple pie that he’d ever eaten. He didn’t miss her smothered smile.
“The hell with both of you,” he told them amiably, as he gave himself another serving. “You grin and I’ll eat.”
A few minutes later, walking through the hall toward the living room feeling as if she had progressed in her effort to make friends with her husband, Amanda glanced toward him, saw that he had just called the hospital and waited for him to give her news of Amy. He hung up, turned and went to the kitchen apparently to give Luke the information. Sorely disappointed that he hadn’t told her how Amy was progressing, she waited at the bottom of the stairs in the hope that he would realize her concern and rectify the oversight. But he remained in the kitchen and, convinced after a long wait that he didn’t think it necessary to tell her, she pondered what to do. Fighting a growing annoyance, she walked back to the kitchen, interrupted the conversation and asked him if he’d planned to tell her.
“Look, I…she’s…doing fine.”
“But you weren’t going to tell me. Didn’t you think I cared?”
“I’m sorry, but…well…I’m so used to talking with Luke about this…” Realizing his error, he added as an explanation, “He’s her uncle.”
“And I’m nothing to her, right?” He grimaced, but she didn’t care that she’d made him uncomfortable.
“Amanda, please be reasonable. This situation is difficult enough without…”
