Golden Vows (2 page)

“Is everything all right?”

Amanda turned to face her husband.

He stood just inside the doorway, and she had the sudden impression that he’d been there for some time.

How odd, she thought. Once she would have known the instant he’d entered the room, no matter how many people were around, and now they were completely alone, only a few feet apart, and she hadn’t even realized he was so near.

The seconds passed in cool silence as she looked at him. As if painting a portrait, her gaze stroked every familiar line in his face, even the tiny scar beside his left eyebrow. One day soon she wouldn’t be able to look up and see him standing in the doorway, but her memory would hold his image and save it for a time when it was no longer painful to recall.

“Everything is fine,” she answered, knowing it was both the truth and a lie.

Dane nodded and his lips formed that polite, plastic smile that she hated. “I should have known better than to ask. You always have everything under control, don’t you, Amanda?”

For the first time in months she didn’t force herself to match his artificial expression. The indifference in his voice hurt and she was tired of pretending to herself that it didn’t. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “I just came in here to get some ice.”

“The Hendersons are leaving now. I thought you’d want to say good night.”

“Of course.” She replaced the lid of the ice bucket and handed it to Dane. “Would you mind?”

He took the container from her hands and followed her from the room. For a split-second as she walked through the doorway she wondered how he would react if she turned and flung herself into his arms, begged him to love her again. She frowned at the ridiculous idea, knowing that more than likely he would drop the ice bucket in astonishment and then, in that awful, polite voice, he’d ask if she wanted him to get more ice.

“Oh, there you are, Amanda,” Terri Henderson called from the entryway. “We have to leave, but I wanted to tell you what a lovely evening we’ve had. May Day Revels. Such a good idea for a party. Thanks so much for inviting us. See you soon.” The brunette walked to the front door, but her husband lingered to touch Amanda’s hand.

“You’re a charming hostess, Amanda,” he said. “I hope you and that lucky husband of yours throw a May Day party every spring for years to come.” With a wink he squeezed her hand and then followed his wife from the house.

Spring.

The one word stayed in her mind as Amanda returned to her guests.

Spring.

The season of beginnings. A year ago she’d carried the beginning of a new life inside her, a precious secret shared only with her husband. Why hadn’t she realized then that beginnings also meant endings? Why had she ignored the warning signs and convinced herself that Dane was as happy as she?

“Great party, Amanda.” Another guest touched her arm, gave a brief kiss to her cheek, before leaving.

She hoped she made the proper response, but the thoughts persisted and made her only vaguely conscious of saying good night to the departing guests.

Spring.

This year she carried the challenge to make a new beginning with her life. And next year? Maybe next year, if she were lucky, someone would invite her to a May Day party. Next year the beginnings and the endings would be over. Everything would be all right again.

Closing the front door for the last time, she sagged against its solid oak strength for a minute before pushing upright and walking into the living room.

Dane had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, but he still stood beside the rock fireplace. He glanced up when she entered the room and then resumed his pensive study of the hearth. Amanda made a visual survey of the party’s aftereffects, the crumpled napkins, the empty wineglasses scattered around the room, the table almost bereft of food. An aura of gaiety still lingered in the air like a concerto’s final chord, faint and fading.

Without conscious intent, Amanda began to restore order. For her, the ritual of cleaning was as much a part of the party as the preparations. It helped her relax and unwind. Tonight, though, it seemed mechanical, just something to occupy her hands while she waited.

“Thank you, Amanda. I think everyone had a good time. I know I did.”

It was what he always said after a party but, somehow, hearing him say the expected words helped ease her tension.

“I noticed what a good time you had,” she said, her voice searching for the light, teasing tone that had once come so naturally. “You seemed to keep the guests in your corner entertained.”

Dane watched her as she moved quietly about the room, his expression unrevealing. “I don’t know why we bother to pay a cleaning woman. You never leave anything for her to do.”

He always said that, too, at the end of a party.

“I’m only straightening things up.” She repeated her standard answer and expected it to echo in the cavern of emptiness between them. Dear God! When had they grown so far apart that they couldn’t think of anything original to say to each other?

Amanda stopped in mid-motion and set the tray down before turning to face him. “Dane, I….” She faltered, not knowing how to form the right words. But as she met his eyes she knew there weren’t any right words.

There was only one way to say it and Amanda gathered her courage. “Dane, I’m leaving you.”

Like a pebble dropped into a pool, her words fell between them and she felt the shock ripple through her to collect in her throat. In a matter of seconds she wished she hadn’t said it, wished she had said it differently, wished there wasn’t a reason to say it at all and finally, repeated it. “I’m leaving you.”

For one shattering second, thick lashes shadowed his eyes, but he gave no other indication of surprise. “Leaving me,” he said in a stiff, impassive voice. “Does this mean you want a divorce?”

Somehow Amanda kept from flinching at the word.
Divorce.
Leave it to Dane to put a name to this aching nonentity within her. “I.... Yes.” She almost strangled on the admission before she steadied. “Yes, I guess that is what I mean.”

“You guess?” The corner of his mouth lifted with incisive question. “Haven’t you already seen an attorney?”

An attorney. A nameless authority who would draw up legal documents to sever their relationship in a few strokes of black ink. She blanched at the prospect. “No, of course not. I hadn’t even thought about contacting an attorney.”

“You’ll have to do that, Amanda. That is the first step in getting a divorce, you know. You hire an attorney to represent you. Then you discuss the settlement with him. Who gets the house, who gets the car, that sort of thing. Your attorney will draw up a petition for the court and send me a copy, which I will then discuss with my attorney. If I agree to the settlement, bingo, we have a quiet, agreeable divorce. If I disagree, we’ll battle about it in court and a judge will decide how to disburse our joint possessions.”

Amanda was appalled at his emotionless recital. How could he be so calm, so matter-of-fact? She wanted him to drop the impersonal tone and tell her how he really felt ... or was he telling her in the cool indifference of the words? “Dane, I...I….”

“Oh, and you’ll need to state your reasons for wanting a divorce.” He shrugged slightly. “A mere formality, of course, but the law requires that you have grounds. Would I be too inquisitive if I asked what grounds you plan to give, Amanda?”

“Grounds?” she echoed stupidly.

“Why?” He rubbed his jaw impatiently. “Why do you want a divorce?”

She looked away from his enigmatic gaze and then forced herself to look back. She knew why, but how could she tell him?

It was the silence. The stilted silence between two people who had shared love and commitment and who now had nothing to say. They had lost the ability, the reason, to communicate with each other and it seemed ironic that he should even ask her to explain why.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he released an audible sigh. “Would you like me to list some possibilities?” he asked, the words heavily underlined with his exasperation. “You could try incompatibility. I believe that’s often given as grounds for divorce. Or perhaps, in our case, it should be ‘irreconcilable differences.’ ”

“Don’t.” she protested. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“Do you find this difficult, Amanda? It doesn’t have to be.” A note of hesitancy crept into his voice. “We could try talking about other alternatives, I suppose.”

Her thoughts hit the idea and skittered away. Didn’t he realize that there were no alternatives? He didn’t love her anymore. Any lingering doubts she might have harbored had vanished at his practical acceptance of her decision.

There were no alternatives.

She lifted her chin in hopes it would bolster her resolve. “Talking won’t change anything.”

“It might. Maybe we should consider a separation. It would give you a little more time to sort things out.”

Separation? A slow, agonizing uncertainty? She couldn’t do that. He had already given her time to sort things out. It wasn’t fair to play on his sense of responsibility for her. “I – I think it’s best my way,” she stated flatly.

His lips pressed together in an emotionless smile. “All right, Amanda. We’ll do it your way. When do you plan to make this momentous move?”

She stiffened at the bitter edge in his words and drew her pride around her like a cloak. “I don’t know. Is it important? I – I guess I can leave any time you want me to.”

Dane narrowed his eyes in sudden piercing anger. “I could wring your lovely neck for that. That and about a thousand other things!” He turned and his hand hit the rock of the fireplace with a resounding slap. The subsequent silence vibrated against the walls and beat mercilessly in her ears

A tremor began at her nape and worked downward, leaving her shaky and unsure of herself. She wondered at his unexpected anger. Did he feel guilty because he’d stopped loving her? Was there some underlying resentment that they had to have this confrontation at all? Dane hated arguments and always avoided them....

Always.

She must stop thinking of him that way.
Always
and
forever
didn’t exist for the two of them anymore. Always was past and forever was only a few days away.

Her heart pounded out the seconds, gradually slowing as she focused on his hand.

His fingers splayed over the surface of the rock to form a contrast of light against dark, a parallel between two separate strengths.

Dane had pulled each of those stones from the ground himself.

Amanda had lost count of the hours they’d spent searching for rocks of just the right shape and color. Some had come away from their mother earth with little or no persuasion, but others had resisted his efforts to uproot them.

She had been amazed and touched by his determination and where she would have given up and chosen a different stone, he had worked tirelessly to get the one he wanted. And now all the stones were welded into a wall of conjunctive strength, much like the wall of hidden emotions that separated her from him.

“When?” He spoke without turning toward her, his voice muffled by the fireplace.

“Soon,” she answered, pulling her attention to the reality at hand. “A few days, maybe a week. Does it matter?”

He shook his head and swung to face her. All trace of anger was gone. She saw only the polite concern of a stranger. “You can have the house. I’ll move out.”

“I can’t stay here, Dane. Surely you understand?”

He just looked at her, his eyes reminding her of dark, winter nights. “What are you going to do?”

She hesitated, weighing what she wanted to say. Above all else, she had to be positive he felt no misplaced responsibility for her once she walked out the door. “I don’t have any definite plans yet. I suppose a place to live is the first priority and then, maybe a short vacation. I’ve always wanted to see what the big attraction is in Texas, you know.”

“I remember,” he said softly. “We didn’t make it that far, did we?”

Memories of shared vacations crowded through her mind. Was she really standing here, talking about taking a trip without him? “I suppose I should talk to an attorney as soon as possible.” The composure of her voice astonished her almost as much as the words she said. “Jerry is an attorney. Maybe he would....” She paused awkwardly. “But that might not be a good idea, since Meg and I are such close friends.”

“I’m going to ask Jerry to represent me,” Dane put in smoothly, as if it had been decided long ago. “I’ll ask him not to discuss the divorce with Meg, if you want.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure he’ll be diplomatic about the whole thing. I guess I’ll find someone else, then. To represent me, I mean,” Amanda said, and wanted to scream with outrage. They were speaking of divorce, the end of almost six years of caring and touching and loving each other, as if it were no more than a simple errand.

All of a sudden she hated him. Hated him for making her fall in love with him, for giving her everything and then taking it away. Hated him because he could stand there without a trace of regret, coolly accepting what she could never accept.

“It’s settled then.” Strangely enough her voice didn’t betray her anger, her deep regret. “I’ll get in touch with an attorney as soon as I’ve found a place to stay.”

“Fine, it’s settled.”

She met his eyes in reluctant agreement, her vehement reaction dying beneath a flicker of disappointment. The tiny candle flame of hope that he wouldn’t allow her to leave quietly snuffed out.

“I think I’ll go to bed.” She walked to the doorway, wondering if she should tell him she was sorry or that she had truly loved him once. But he knew that already, so she just stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “It was a good party, wasn’t it?”

“The best,” he answered, feeling his throat constrict painfully as Amanda lifted her chin and walked regally from the room. He raked his fingers through his hair, jerked the tie from around his neck and tossed it aside, scanned the untidiness of the room, wondered where he’d left his wine glass.

He needed a drink.

Action followed the thought and he poured a shot of bourbon into a fresh glass, drank it down in a single swallow. The liquor burned through the tightness in his throat and he poured himself another, only then realizing how his hands shook.