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Fiona’s hand trembled at the mention of her daughter. Almost five years old, Katy was the light of her life. She loved her daughter more than she’d known she was capable of loving—more than she’d ever loved Justin, more than she’d ever hated him. She’d needed all that love to make up for the father who’d never given a damn that Katy existed, to atone for her sin of falling in love with a man who could be so coldhearted and selfish.
“What about Katy, Mom? He didn’t care about her before. He’s not going to care now.”
“Are you going to let him see her?”
“I’m not going to hide her away like something to be ashamed of. But no, I’m not going to make a point of bringing her to his attention.” She wasn’t going to do anything to bring herself to his attention, either. Golda had had hundreds of friends. The church would be packed to overflowing this afternoon, and virtually all of them would want to express their regrets to Golda’s only relative in attendance.
All of them except her.
“Nice table,” Delores said as Fiona stepped back to study its shine. “What is it?”
“Rosewood. Mrs. Owens picked it up on her last trip to Europe, paid a fortune to have it shipped here, then decided it really didn’t go. She traded it to me for that armoire that had been collecting dust in the corner for two years.” Fiona looked around for something else in need of cleaning, but she’d been dusting and polishing practically nonstop since hearing about Golda’s death. Everything in the shop looked fine.
Laying the cloth aside, she walked behind the counter and sat down in a circa-1920 oak desk chair. Nearly an hour remained before they had to leave for the church, and she had nothing left to do but think. Remember.
And she didn’t want to remember.
Her mother came to stand behind her and gave her a shoulder rub. “You’ll get through this, darlin’. I know it’s tough, losing Golda and having to see Justin again at the same time, but you’re strong. You’ll survive.”
“I know I will, Mom. It’s just…” Hard. Hard saying goodbye to her good friend and neighbor, and even harder having to do it with him there. Hardest of all was having to face him, remembering his sweet words of love, his solemn promises to come back to her, his long years of silence. Sometimes she’d thought it would have been easier if he’d simply told her it was over. But how much clearer could a message be than no message at all?
Lord, she wished things were different! This wasn’t at all where she’d thought she would be at the age of thirty. Not that she didn’t have a lot to be grateful for. She owned her own house. Past Times, her antique shop, was well established and provided her with a comfortable living. She had family and friends, and best of all, she had Katy. In fact, the only thing she’d thought would be different was her lack of a husband. She’d assumed she would become a wife before becoming a mother. She’d thought her life would be more traditional, like her parents’ and sisters’ lives.
Of course, when she’d made those assumptions, she hadn’t counted on falling in love with a man like Justin Reed. She hadn’t known she could misjudge someone so badly.
He’d come to spend two days with Golda before continuing his vacation out west. Instead he’d stayed ten days, and she’d known before the first one was over that she’d met the man she was going to marry. They’d gone from strangers to lovers in the space of a few hours, had fallen head over heels in love soon after.
At least, she had. He’d told her he loved her, told her she was the most special woman in his life and talked of their future together—of the places they would go, the things they would see, the babies they would have. When his job cut his vacation short and called him back to the East Coast, he’d sworn he would come back as soon as he could. He’d asked her to visit him in Washington, had promised he would love her forever and told her he already missed her.
She had believed everything he said, and it had all been lies. Wonderfully romantic, just-what-she’d-wanted-to-hear lies. Carefully-calculated-to-seduce lies.
Seeing him would be hard, all right, but she would manage. As her mother said, she was strong. She would survive. But, please, God, she hoped there was a limit to how many times she was expected to survive Justin’s intrusion into, then disappearance from, her life.
“We’d probably better go,” Delores said, bending to give her a hug. “I told your sisters we’d pick them up on the way to the church. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not.” Fiona switched on the answering machine, got her coat and purse from the back, then flipped the Open sign on the door to Closed. After locking up, she followed her mother to her car and settled in the passenger seat.
Though the day was cold—after all, it was January in Colorado—the sun was shining brightly. She was glad for that. Golda hadn’t minded dreary, gray days, but she’d absolutely reveled in sunny ones, no matter what the temperature. It was only right that she be laid to rest on a bright sunshiny day.
Her mother chatted idly, requiring no response from Fiona, on the way to first Kerry’s house, then Colleen’s. Her sisters lived three blocks in opposite directions from their parents’ home, while Fiona’s house was two blocks north. Unlike Justin’s family, the Lakes stayed close to home and liked it—though five years ago, she would have moved away with him if he’d asked, and been happy to do so. She would never consider such a move now. Family, she could count on to always be there for her. Justin had taught her that she couldn’t count on a man for anything besides heartache.
And the most beautiful little girl in the entire world.
When they reached the church, space was at a premium, both in the parking lot outside and in the pews inside, seating them much closer to the front than Fiona wanted. Given the opportunity, she would have escaped to the standing-room-only crowd at back, but with her mother on one side and Kerry and Colleen on the other, she didn’t get the opportunity.
Kerry squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. “It’s all right. We’ll stick close.”
“It’s silly to be so nervous.”
“I’d worry if you weren’t nervous. If you could see him for the first time since he—”
Betrayed her, Fiona filled in when her sister hesitated. Abandoned her. Broke her heart.
Kerry settled for a shrug. “—and not be nervous, then you’d be colder-hearted and more unfeeling than he could possibly be.”
Fiona would bet Justin wasn’t nervous about the prospect of seeing her again. For all she knew, he might not even remember her. And to be able to turn his back on his baby, he was definitely colder-hearted and more unfeeling than she could ever be.
The time for the funeral drew nearer, and the front row, reserved for family, remained empty. Just when Fiona was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t betrayed Golda, too, Delores bent close and whispered, “Take a deep breath, darlin’. There he is.”
Fiona didn’t have to turn her head more than a few degrees to see the man she’d loved and hated and prayed to never see again, walking down the aisle alongside the minister. He wore a steel-gray suit with a shirt and tie in softer dove-gray, and his black hair was trimmed short enough to control its wavy tendencies. His gaze was directed to the floor as he ignored the hundreds of people around him, and his jaw was set so tightly that she could see the tension from where she sat.
Colleen gave a sigh as the two men passed their pew. “He’s still handsome.”
Of course he was—possibly the handsomest man Fiona had ever met. Years ago she’d figured she thought that because she was so much in love with him, but no, she admitted regretfully. It was the truth. She certainly didn’t love him now, but he was still gorgeous.
And that was all right. Finding him handsome didn’t mean she was still a sucker for his lies. It didn’t mean he had any effect at all on her. She could admire the package without caring what was inside, because she knew what was inside—nothing worth having.
The service started promptly at two. Fiona listened to the eulogy, the prayers, the songs, and said a silent, final goodbye to her friend. With some bitterness, she hoped to soon do the same to Justin, who sat stiffly on the front row. He didn’t bow his head for the prayers, showed no emotion during the songs. He reminded her of nothing so much as a statue.
For the first time in five years, she felt truly relieved that he wasn’t a part of Katy’s life. Her daughter might need a father, but she didn’t need her own father. She was better off without him. So was Fiona. And so was Golda.
After the final prayer, Delores leaned across. “I’m going to pay my respects.”
Kerry and Colleen looked at Fiona, who shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
She followed their progress part of the way up the aisle, then went to study the nearest of a dozen stained-glass windows that stretched the length of the church. She was restless, impatient to leave, to collect Katy from the baby-sitter, take her home and shut themselves off from the rest of the world until Sunday. Maybe they could go somewhere for the weekend—pack their bags, get in the car and head off on an adventure. Or maybe they could go to Denver—
“Fiona.”
Tension streaked through her body, clenching her muscles and bringing a sick feeling to her stomach. She said a quick prayer that she would turn and find her friend Rebecca’s husband Steve, or maybe Juliette’s husband Colton, but she knew Steve’s and Colton’s voices. More importantly, she knew his voice. It had seduced her, haunted her, taunted her…and then gone silent on her. No, It’s over. No, Goodbye. No, I don’t want you anymore. Just silence.
Forcing all emotion from her expression, she slowly turned to face him. Watching him walk past at a distance was nothing compared to seeing him up close. Handsome? Try incredible. This close she could see the deep blue of his eyes, the straight line of his nose, the perpetually stubborn set of his jaw.
She could see the resemblances to Katy that she’d conveniently persuaded herself weren’t there.
She thought of all the things she’d promised herself she would say to him if she ever saw him again. Every sentiment, every accusation, could be condensed into two harsh words—Damn you—but she didn’t say them. She didn’t say anything at all.
He shifted in a manner that should have screamed He’s nervous! Of course, it didn’t. It just seemed natural. Calm. “I wondered if you were going to speak to me.”
“Actually, no. Speaking to you makes it harder to keep up the illusion that I’d never met you.”
“And you like pretending you never met me.”
She smiled coolly. “I’d like it better if I really had never met you, but this is the next best thing.”
A faint hint of bitterness came into his eyes, and his mouth formed a thin line. After a moment, he flatly said, “I’m sorry about Golda.”
“Everyone here is sorry about Golda.” But in some tender place inside, she was touched by his acknowledgment that losing Golda was a bigger loss to her than him. After all, she’d seen the old lady every day. He’d stayed away for six years.
Because of her? Or because he hadn’t cared any more about his aunt than he had about Fiona?
He shifted again, and this time he did look… Not nervous. Uncomfortable. As if he wasn’t at all accustomed to the position he found himself in—the grieving nephew, the polite ex-lover. “I understand your being here has nothing to do with me, but…thank you anyway.”
“You’re right. Nothing in my life has anything to do with you.” Hoping her hand wouldn’t tremble, she gestured toward the center of the church. “You should probably get back over there. There are people waiting who actually want to talk to you.”
With a solemn nod, he turned and walked away, leaving her feeling… Edgy. Guilty. Ashamed. She wasn’t a rude person, and had never been cruel a day in her life. She could blame it on Justin. She hadn’t been a lot of things until she’d met him—easy, foolish, careless, dreamy, gullible, broken-hearted, pregnant. She hadn’t been so strong until she’d loved him and lost him. She needed that strength now to get through the next thirty hours.
She needed it desperately.
Justin turned onto the three hundred block of Aspen Street and slowed to well below the speed limit. The houses on the block were moderately sized, reasonably priced and in good shape considering they were nearly double his age. Golda’s was in the middle of the block on the left side of the street. Fiona’s was one closer.
It looked the same as it had six years ago. It wore a fresh coat of white paint on the siding, dark green on the shutters and door. The same car she’d driven then was parked in the driveway in front of the two-car garage, and what appeared to be the same lace curtains hung at her bedroom windows on the second floor.
But there were a few differences. A bike with training wheels was parked at the bottom of the steps. A kid-size basketball goal stood in the driveway next to the car. A red wagon on the porch held a soccer ball and a basketball among other toys. A remote-control Jeep lay upside down near the curb.
Maybe the toys belonged to her nieces and nephews, he reasoned, or maybe she’d been baby-sitting a friend’s children. But the cold, hard place that formed deep in his gut said otherwise. Fiona had a child.
Which meant she also had a husband.
He wondered how long she had waited for him before moving on. A few months? Six, maybe eight? And then she’d replaced him, gotten married and started the family she’d promised him. She was another man’s wife, raising another man’s child. Damn her.
And damn him. He’d promised he would come back, but he never had. He hadn’t written, hadn’t called, had ignored her calls. Plain and simple, he’d been afraid. All the intense emotions she roused in him had seemed perfectly normal when he was with her, but with distance had come doubt.
His parents had seen to it that he’d grown up with little belief in love and no faith at all in marriage. Their own marriage had been a mistake, and so had the ten or so they’d made since their divorce from each other. They’d acted on impulse every damn time, completing the meeting, lust, so-called love and marriage in record time, only to wake up with strangers they neither knew nor liked. Within a year, often less, the divorce was in the works and they were looking for the next person willing to make a fool of them.
He’d watched it happen time and again, often from the same household, usually from a distance, and he’d sworn it would never happen to him. If he ever married, it would be to someone he’d known a long time, someone he considered a friend, someone who didn’t believe in fairy tales of love and romance any more than he did. And if the marriage ended, he wouldn’t be so emotionally vested in it that it disrupted his life. He would deal with it like a mature adult and move on. He’d been so confident, so determined.
And yet the first time he’d mentioned marriage to Fiona, he’d known her all of seventy-two hours. After only three days, he’d been willing to tie the knot with a woman he hardly knew merely because she made him feel things he’d never felt before. He’d been not only willing but eager to follow in his parents’ footsteps, and that had scared the hell out of him.
So he’d cut her out of his life. Refused her calls at work. Let the machine pick them up at home. Ignored her quiet pleas. With eighteen hundred miles separating them, he’d convinced himself that Fiona had just been a fling, that the affair had been about sex and not love, that nothing so hot and intense could last. It hadn’t been difficult. He came from a long line of emotionally-stunted bastards. He’d had excellent role models.
Just past Fiona’s house, he pulled into Golda’s driveway and shut off the engine. He’d intended to spend the night at a motel, but his timing wasn’t the greatest. There was no room at the inns, and so the wayward nephew was left with no choice but to stay at Golda’s. Next to Fiona.
The lawyer had given him the key at the funeral—just in case. Taking his bag from the trunk as well as his briefcase, he let himself into the quiet, old house.
The parlor opened off the foyer and was filled with mementos of Golda’s life. He walked around the perimeter of the room, touching nothing, gazing at countless photographs of himself, from first grade through graduation, both prep school and college. His mother had missed one, and his father had missed both, but Golda had been there both days.
There were other photographs, mostly of people he didn’t know, as well as some childish drawings that had been framed and hung as if they deserved it. He assumed they were the work of the pretty little dark-haired girl whose photos on display numbered second only to his own, and wondered who she was.
A framed portrait on the piano answered that question. It was the same girl snuggled on her mother’s lap while they read a children’s book. She looked sleepy, contented, and her mother… Fiona looked happier, more beautiful and more in love than he’d ever had the fortune to see her.
Angrily he turned away from the picture. He didn’t care. Their affair never could have been more than it was, and it had ended six years ago. She felt nothing but contempt for him, and he…he felt nothing. He was just tired from the flight, worn-out by the guilt, depressed by the funeral and the graveside service. He needed sleep, then food, then more sleep, and he needed to get the hell out of Grand Springs, which he would do tomorrow immediately following the meeting with Golda’s lawyer. Once he was back in D.C. and at work, he would be all right.
He carried his garment bag upstairs, chose the guest room where he hadn’t once made love to Fiona, stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed. Sleep came easily, but it wasn’t restful. Too many memories, too many dreams.
When he gave up and got up, it was nearly eight o’clock, the sky was dark, and his stomach was rumbling. He dressed in jeans and a sweater, grabbed his coat and headed for the car. He got so far as unlocking the door before some impulse he didn’t understand and couldn’t resist drew him away, across the yard next door and up the steps. It was incredibly stupid, he told himself as he crossed the six feet to the door. She’d made it clear at the church this afternoon that she wanted nothing further to do with him. He had nothing to say to her. Her husband certainly wouldn’t appreciate him stopping by.
But none of that stopped him from ringing the doorbell or waiting impatiently in the thin glow of the porch light.
Through the curtained side lights that flanked the door, he saw a shadow approach the door. The long moment’s hesitation that followed told him it was Fiona, debating whether to answer the door or leave him standing there like the idiot he was. If asked to guess, he would have put his money on the latter, but he would have been wrong.
She opened the door only halfway and blocked it with her socked foot. Hugging her arms to her chest, she fixed a slightly hostile, mostly blank look on him and waited for him to speak.
“Hi.” Brilliant opening. Worthy of a door slammed in his face. “I was wondering…” About a lot of things, but the growl deep in his stomach gave him a topic to discuss with her. “Where can I get a decent burger around here?”
She looked suspicious of his question, but answered as if it were legitimate. “We have the usual fast food places. The diner downtown might still be open. Randolph’s definitely is, though I don’t know if they have hamburgers on the menu. The Squaw Creek Lodge restaurant, but it’s a bit of a drive.”
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“We like McDonald’s Happy Meals,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm, then grudgingly went on. “The Saloon. It’s a bar downtown that serves greasy burgers with fried onions and a side of heartburn. They’re the best around.”
“Any chance I could persuade you to keep me company while I eat?”
Her eyes darkened, and her mouth thinned into a prissy straight line. “No. None.”
Of course not. What man would want to stay home and baby-sit while his wife went out to the local watering hole with her ex-lover? “I…I just thought maybe we could talk.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “Golda.”
For a moment, she stood motionless. Then she pushed the door up, not quite closing it. Justin wasn’t sure whether she’d changed her mind or was dismissing him, until she returned, wearing shoes and carrying a thick blanket. She slipped outside, closed the door, wrapped the blanket around her, then sat down on the top step.
He stayed where he was a moment. It was twenty degrees, and neither of them was dressed to spend any amount of time outside. Her warm house was a few steps away, and Golda’s was thirty feet away. There was no reason for them to freeze outside.
Except that she obviously didn’t want him inside her house, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be alone with her.
He sat at the opposite end of the same step and rubbed his hands together before sliding them into his coat pockets. As the silence between them extended, he reminded himself that he was supposed to talk about Golda, but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to say—not now, not with Fiona still obviously hostile.
Gazing at the house across the street, brightly lit in the night, he finally asked, “How have you been?”
Fiona slowly turned her head to look at him. He felt it. “You’re a little late asking, aren’t you?” The voice he remembered in his dreams as sweet, warm, tender, was as cold as the frigid air that surrounded them. “You said you wanted to talk about Golda. Do it or leave.”
Now it was her turn to stare across the street while he looked at her. The past six years had left him looking six years older and ten years wearier, but they’d simply left Fiona more beautiful. She’d always been pretty, with her red hair, hazel eyes, freckled nose, fair skin and exceedingly kissable mouth, but now she was lovelier, softer, more desirable, in a womanly sort of way. Was it motherhood that had brought about the change?
Or the man she’d married?
He couldn’t ask. He had no right. She had the dubious honor of being part of the single most important relationship in his entire life. He’d seduced her, and been seduced by her. He’d wanted to marry her, to spend the next fifty years at her side. He’d even imagined himself in love with her—him, a Reed, when everyone knew that Reeds were capable of many emotions, but love was not one of them.
And he had no right to ask her anything. What was wrong with this picture?
Golda, his conscience reminded him when Fiona shifted impatiently on the step. Turning so the railing was at his back, he went straight to the heart of what troubled him most about his aunt. “Did she ever forgive me?”
Chapter 2
Underneath the heavy comforter, Fiona was trembling, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Ask me if I’ll ever forgive you, she wanted to demand. Not in this lifetime. But she wasn’t Golda. She’d loved him in an entirely different way, and while he’d betrayed her, he’d merely neglected Golda. He’d broken Fiona’s heart and cheated his daughter of a father, but he’d deprived Golda of nothing more than a few visits.
Not that he cared if Fiona and Katy ever forgave him. He hadn’t even asked about her, hadn’t shown any interest at all in her existence. For all practical purposes, for him, she didn’t exist.
