Divided Hearts (16 page)

“It’s not like that.”

“These are peculiar conjectures coming from someone who’s about to marry a woman he doesn’t love,” Faye countered sourly. “But then I guess once you have your daughter and her mother under your roof, you’ll have it all perfectly in place, all the control you seem to need.” The moment the words left her lips she bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she could take them back.

She saw Simon stiffen, his jaw tightening as he looked at her. “That’s unfair.”

“Nothing about this situation is fair.” Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes, and she pushed them back with the heel of her hand.

She tried to turn away but his hand curled around her elbow, holding her in place. “Tell me, Faye, is the pain you’re feeling only due to how you feel about Hannah? Or is it in part because of how you feel about me?”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about you,” she flared, her voice quavering. “You’re not mine.”

His expression softened then, the blue of his eyes vibrant with the shimmering hues of a stormy evening sky. “Maybe not. But my heart does belong to you, Faye.”

She frowned at him, feeling a heavy thump beneath her breastbone. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.” Swiftly he drew her to him, his mouth claiming hers with little resistance. Faye melted into him embrace, her arms folding over his back to hold him close. She let her eyes fall closed, delighting in the sensation of his lips gliding over hers, leisurely exploring, his tongue sliding between her lips as their kisses steadily deepened.

Her heart swelled at his words, as her body responded fervently to his kisses. But as much as she’d longed to hold him, all of this was forbidden now.

“We can’t do this,” she murmured against his lips. “You’re engaged.” She cupped his face between her palms intending to push him away, but instead held him tenderly, sliding her fingers up into his hair as her thumbs stroked the rim of his jaw.

“I can’t help wanting you.
Needing
you.” Simon gathered her closer, his lips tracing the sensitive hollow of her neck, stoking her desire into full flame.

Faye shivered with awareness as his mouth traveled along her jaw, pausing at her earlobe for an exhilarating moment before moving down her neck to graze the ridge of her collarbone. His hands slid under her blouse and up the bare skin of her back, his warm fingers on her backbone kindling her rising need.

She heard herself moan, both in pleasure and in agony. Finally she eased away from him, shaking her head. “You’ve made a commitment to Jenna. I won’t do this.”

Simon loosened his hold, frustration roughening his voice. “I asked you to tell me if you didn’t want me to marry her. You didn’t stop me.”

Faye’s hands drifted down to linger a moment on his chest, firm and enticing beneath the cool fabric of his shirt. She drew a long breath, fighting to rein in her wildly pounding heart. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, Simon. It was
your
decision.”

“Right.” His jaw pulsed as he looked at her, dissatisfaction simmering in the azure depths of his eyes as the storm within abated. “I’d better be on my way.”

“Yes.” Ducking her head in a quick nod, she dropped her hands to her sides and stepped back to let him go.

* * *

Leaning heavily on one crutch, Jenna stood in front of the full-length triple mirror, evaluating her reflection in the middle panel. She smoothed the gown’s full skirt with the palm of her free hand, then ran her fingers up the delicately beaded bodice, appraising the texture. The diamond ring glimmered on her finger, catching the light as her hand moved over the fabric.

She turned to look at Faye, her thin eyebrows raised in expectation. “What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Faye replied. The gown was a classic, elegant style with a sweetheart waist and lace sleeves. Jenna looked beautiful in it, her dark hair a striking contrast to the ivory satin of the dress. She had tried on several, a laborious process with her weak legs, and this was the first one she had liked.

When Jenna turned back to the mirror, her expression changed, her brow creasing with displeasure. “You know, this isn’t how I imagined it.”

“It really is stunning,” Faye assured her. “But you can try on some others. We can always come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t mean the dress,” her friend said solemnly. “I mean my wedding day.”

Faye lowered herself into the chair by the bridal shop’s front window, her stomach clenching. “What were you imagining?”

Jenna shook her head, still studying her image in the mirror intently. “I’m not sure. It’s not like I had it all planned out since I was a kid, like a lot of other girls did. But I had this notion that it would feel, I don’t know, like a magical day. But are weddings ever really magical or is that just the stuff of fairy tales?” She looked at Faye again, her soft gray eyes inquiring. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; clearly she was seeking Faye’s reassurance that her feelings of disillusionment were normal for any bride.

It was the first sign of doubt Faye has seen in Jenna since she’d accepted Simon’s proposal. Now that Jenna was home from the hospital, Faye had seen the couple together and heard them talking on the phone numerous times, and they both had seemed content, even eager about their upcoming nuptials. Of course, Faye had witnessed very little physical contact between them, other than Simon taking Jenna’s hand to help her to stand or sit down, or the occasional peck on the cheek in greeting.

Bending her head to study her shoes, Faye hesitated before answering, torn between telling Jenna what she wanted to hear and warning her about the realities she should consider. But then again, what did Faye know about marriage? Her thoughts drifted back to Simon’s theory that she was afraid to fall in love and have a family; perhaps it had been true once, before she met him and had been satisfied to keep male suitors at arm’s length. Despite the excuses she might have made, she did yearn for the safe, constant love her parents didn’t have, and the close-knit family they could not provide. She couldn’t help but gaze with longing at the racks of elegant gowns surrounding her, picturing herself draped in white satin and lace.

Of course, thoughts of Simon led invariably to memories of the illicit kiss they had shared, accompanied by a fierce twinge of shame. She would not let it happen again. After all these years protecting her heart, why did she have to let Simon Blake in now, only to break it?

Faye glanced up to see Jenna watching her, waiting for her reply. “If it doesn’t feel right, you don’t have to go through with it,” she said finally.

Jenna offered a dour smile. “I made a commitment. I’m going to stick with it.” Her own pronouncement seemed to buoy her spirits, and she lifted her chin resolutely. She shifted her crutch, attempting to tuck it behind the skirt to hide it from view. “It’s going to be as perfect as it can be. And I will be able to walk on my own by then. I’m not going to hobble down the aisle on these stupid crutches.”

Rising from her chair, Faye stepped next to Jenna and took the crutch from her, offering her own hand in its place for support, so that Jenna could see how she’d look without the unsightly metal prop by her side. Smiling her thanks, Jenna turned toward the mirror for another look.

Faye studied their reflection—the two women side by side, one dark head next to a blonde one, as it had been since they were kids. Only now, one of them was getting married, causing an inevitable shift in their friendship, as Faye had always known it would. Of course, being in love with Jenna’s fiancé was something Faye never could have anticipated. Things had changed so much in a span of three months. In many ways Faye wished they could go back in time and simply continue on the path they were taking, before Simon entered their lives, and her heart. But there was no choice now but to move forward and let destiny unfold as it would.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride,” she said, smoothing Jenna’s long hair over her shoulder with affection. “Simon is one lucky man.”

Jenna’s smile widened, happiness lighting the depths of her smoky gray eyes. Faye smiled as well, though her own chest throbbed painfully. Would Jenna really be happy, and for how long? Would the two women end up together again, both suffering from their involvement with Simon Blake? Despite her misgivings, Faye would offer her support and not try to talk Jenna out of the marriage—how much of her motivation, after all, would be for Jenna’s benefit and not her own?

The shop’s owner poked her head in from the back room, smiling broadly, having observed the bride lingering in this particular dress. “Have we made a decision?”

“Yes,” Jenna declared. “I want this one.”

Chapter Thirteen

Faye paused by her car outside of Simon’s house for a moment, listening to the whisper of trees stirred by the brisk ocean breeze. Sunshine dappled across the porch and driveway, comforting fingers of warmth caressing her arms and shoulders as the branches above shifted and swayed.

It felt odd to be arriving alone; glancing at the back seat, she almost expected to see Hannah’s sleeping form strapped into her car seat. Faye felt her heart thump against her ribs, the little girl’s absence keenly felt—but Hannah was with her mother, where she belonged. Their neighbor Katia would spend the day with Jenna to help her care for Hannah, allowing Faye to travel to Halfmoon Bay on her own. As maid of honour, she’d agreed to come up early to help prepare the house for the rehearsal dinner; Jenna would arrive later and they would both spend the night at a motel.

And tomorrow … well, tomorrow Jenna and Simon would be married.

Finally she climbed the steps onto the porch; by the time she reached the door, Mary had pulled it open and was ushering her inside.

She drew Faye into a warm embrace. “Faye, it’s so nice to see you again.” They had last seen each other at Jenna’s bridal shower, but Faye had been too busy running the party to converse for long with any of the guests.

“You, too, Mary. How are you holding up?” Faye glanced around the living room, expecting to see Simon, but no one else was there. The room, however, looked startlingly different. The furniture had been rearranged to make room for an extra table, pushed up against the dining room table, to accommodate the dinner guests. A pair of dolls left on the sofa told her that Sienna was probably somewhere in the house.

“Just fine. I’m a bit ne
r
vous,” Mary confessed. “Normal for mother of the groom, I suppose, although I’ve been mother of the bride once already. Of course I wasn’t making roast lamb for fifteen people then. Todd’s parents did the sensible thing and held the rehearsal dinner at a restaurant.”

“I tried to talk you out of it, Mum, but you insisted,” reminded a pleasant English voice, the female counterpart to Simon‘s elegant intonation. Faye glanced over to see Laurel and Sienna stepping in from the back yard through the French doors.

Behind them, Faye noticed stacks of tables and chairs that had been brought for the outdoor reception. Further back stood a latticed cedar arbor. Laurel’s husband Todd had built it for the occasion; in the morning it would be decorated with garlands and white roses and then transported to the beach, where the ceremony was to take place. A tall, strapping man stood beside it, peering at the structure closely, hammer poised in his hand.

“That’s Todd back there,” Laurel said, seeing Faye’s curious expression. “He’s obsessing over that arbor, making sure it’s just right.”

“It is gorgeous,” Faye remarked. “Well, if it isn’t the flower girl,” she said, bending down as Sienna bounded over to her. “Are you excited?”

Sienna nodded her head vigorously. “Where’s Hannah?”

“She’s coming later with her mother.”

Sienna looked at her with a puzzled expression, her small brow creasing. “Aren’t you her mommy?”

“This is Faye,” Laurel corrected, with an awkward glance at Faye. “Jenna is Hannah’s mom. You met her a long time ago, so you probably don’t remember.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flickered through the little girl’s expression.

“Look, here’s a picture.” Laurel picked up a glossy photo that had been set on the mantel, as yet unframed. “That’s Jenna.”

As she bent to show the photo to her daughter, Faye glanced over. It was a picture of Simon, Jenna and Hannah posing in front of a fountain at Vancouver’s Queen Elizabeth Park. The couple stood close together, their heads tilted inward, smiling serenely. Simon held Hannah in his arms, wedged between them, with Jenna’s hand resting on her daughter’s back. Studying the photo, for the first time Faye saw Hannah’s face not only as her own unique feature, but as a combination of traits corresponding to each of her parents—his eyes and mouth, her nose and chin—linking the three faces in a tangible, inherent bond.
A complete family
.

A wave of some unsettling emotion washed through Faye. Jealousy? Not exactly; she wasn’t struck by a desire to rip Jenna’s face out of the picture and insert her own in its place. Faye’s features simply didn’t belong in that spot, like a puzzle piece forced into a slot where its edges would not fit. She knew she’d have to get used to pictures like this, thinking particularly of tomorrow’s photos of the new bride and groom … and then wishing she hadn’t brought it to mind.

“I’m wearing a purple dress tomorrow at the wedding, and I have a purple ribbon for my hair,” Sienna announced, quickly losing interest in the photograph. “But my mom says I can’t wear a tiara.” She slanted a brief, glaring look at her mother.