Reflections of Yesterday (6 page)

As the distance lessened, Angie closed her eyes. She should break away, she thought guiltily, but the curiosity to discover his kiss again was overpowering. They weren’t teenagers anymore, but adults, curious after a long absence.

His lips warmly covered hers, his touch firm and experienced. The tension eased from Angie as she slid her hands over his rib cage, feeling his hard muscles through the material of his shirt.

The pulse point in her neck throbbed against his fingers, betraying his effect on her. Her hold tightened as her mouth clung to his.

“Oh Simon,” she whispered, as his mouth released her.

Slowly he lifted his head, awed by the power an uncomplicated kiss held over him. Angie’s eyes were wide and faintly puzzled. She resembled a frightened doe, unsure of her footing. His first reaction was to reach out and hold her secure. But he couldn’t. As difficult as it was at this moment, he had to let her go. In some ways, it had been easier the first time. He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step in retreat.

“Good-bye, Simon,” she said in a choked, unhappy voice.

He couldn’t answer her. For him the kiss wasn’t a farewell, but a welcoming. He opened
the car door for her and closed it once she’d climbed inside.

The car engine roared to life without a problem. Her eyes glistened with tears as Angie shifted the gears, backed the car around, and drove away. Not once did she glance in her rearview mirror, although everything within her was demanding that she take one last look at Simon.

A blazing orange sun was greeting the horizon when the two couples pulled into the country club parking lot.

“I’m as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night,” Cindy confessed, as Bob gave her his hand and helped her out of the backseat of Charlie’s Lexus.

“How do I look?” Cindy nervously asked Angie, as her fingers brushed at a small crease in the front of her dove-gray silk dress.

“Gorgeous,” Angie said, and winked. “We both do.” After spending the morning and most of the afternoon shopping, she wouldn’t admit to anything else. Cindy did look lovely. Even Bob’s jaw had dropped in surprise when his wife had appeared.

Bob inserted a finger under the starched white collar of his shirt. “Are you sure there isn’t going to be a problem?” His question was directed at Charlie.

“I’m sure,” Charlie returned confidently. “Everyone’s entitled to bring guests.”

As he’d promised, there wasn’t so much as a raised eyebrow as they entered the foyer. Charlie signed in for them, and with a hand cupping Angie’s elbow, he led the way into the dining room.

The round tables were covered with pure-white linen tablecloths. An expertly folded red napkin was standing at attention at each place setting. The lights had been lowered, and flickering candles cast a festive glow across the room. The hardwood dance floor was toward the front, and the band instruments were set up and waiting.

Cindy was whispering excitedly to Bob, who was walking behind Angie, but she couldn’t hear her friend. Perhaps she would have been more in awe of the fancy club if Simon hadn’t brought her here all those years ago. Once for a birthday dinner, and again for a dance. But his parents had objected strenuously to Simon taking Angie to the club. They had fought, and Angie, not wishing to be a source of problems for Simon at home, had refused to come again.

Charlie pulled out the high-backed chair for Angie, and Bob followed suit. The two
women exchanged happy smiles.

“I guess I have to come to the country club for Bob to pull out my chair,” Cindy teased her husband affectionately.

Within minutes they were studying an oblong menu, a gold tassel hanging from the top.

The women ordered veal piccata and the men chose steak au poivre. Charlie insisted on paying for their meal, but Bob picked up the tab for the domestic wine, a delicious chardonnay.

Nostalgia flowed as freely as the wine, and an hour later while they lingered over freshly brewed coffee, the five-piece band started up.

Only a few couples took to the floor.

“Do you dance, Angie?” Charlie leaned toward her and asked.

“It’s been awhile,” she admitted. Her lifestyle didn’t include many evenings like this. She and Glenn shared many quiet evenings alone, but he was a lumberjack of a man and had never suggested they go dancing.

“My feet are itching already,” Cindy confessed, and pointedly batted her curved lashes at her husband.

As Angie recalled, Bob and Cindy made quite a couple on the dance floor. They proved her memory correct as they took to the floor with an ease that produced a sigh of admiration from Angie.

“Shall we?” Charlie held out his hand to her.

“Why not?” Angie answered with a warm smile. “But forgive me if I step on your toes. It’s been a long time.”

“I’ll come up with some penance,” Charlie teased, drawing her into his arms when they reached the outskirts of the floor.

Angie felt stiff and a little awkward as Charlie tightened his hold. “You’re still as beautiful as ever,” he whispered. “I always thought you were the prettiest girl in class.”

Angie managed to hide a soft smile. Charlie had dated a long succession of cheerleaders. In four years of high school, she doubted that he’d ever given her more than a second glance.

“You were dating Canfield, and he let it be known in no uncertain terms that you were his.”

A part of her would always be Simon’s, Angie mused, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. She didn’t want to have to think about Simon.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Charlie.” Early in the evening, Angie had realized that Charlie enjoyed talking about his success. It was easier to listen to self-proclaimed accolades than discuss her relationship with Simon.

The music was slow, and as they turned, Angie caught sight of a silver-haired woman with delicate features sitting at a table against the window. Georgia Canfield, Simon’s mother. Angie’s heart stopped cold. The older woman had changed dramatically. In twelve years, she’d aged thirty. One look confirmed that life hadn’t been easy for Simon’s mother, and a rush of unexpected compassion filled her. She had often wondered what she’d feel if she saw Mrs. Canfield again. The bitterness had been with her a lot of years, just as it had been with Simon.

“Excuse me a minute,” she said, as she broke loose from Charlie. “There’s someone I’d like to see.”

Charlie dropped his arms, surprised. “Sure.”

Making her way across the crowded dance floor, Angie formulated her thoughts. This was possibly the worst thing she could do, but the opportunity was here and she wouldn’t allow it to escape.

“Hello, Mrs. Canfield.” She spoke softly as she stood before the older woman, who was sitting alone at a small table.

A network of wrinkles broke out across her face as she turned, unable to disguise her shock. “Angela.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for being so brash as to intrude.”

“All young people are brash,” Mrs. Canfield said, recovering quickly. “What are you doing here? As I recall, my husband and I paid a steep price to keep you out of this town.”

Angie’s fingers laced in front of her, tightened. “I realize that. I’ve only come for a visit.”

“I didn’t know you had relatives in the area,” Mrs. Canfield said stiffly.

“I don’t.” Angie eyed the empty chair across from Simon’s mother. “Would you mind if I sat down? I’d like to talk for a moment.”

Georgia Canfield answered with a polite nod, but Angie noted that her shoulders were arched and her back was uncomfortably straight.

“I won’t stay long,” Angie promised, as she took the seat. Her insides were tied in a double knot, but she knew she appeared outwardly calm, as did Mrs. Canfield. “First, I want to ask your forgiveness for taking that money. There hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t regretted
it.”

Gray eyes, so like Simon’s, widened perceptively.

“By accepting your offer,” Angie continued relentlessly, “I confirmed every bad thing you wanted to believe about me.”

“I realized at the time that it was more your father’s doing than yours.”

“That’s no excuse.” Both were aware that Clay Robinson was a weak man, but Angie refused to lessen the blame on herself.

“Have you seen Simon?” Georgia Canfield gave no indication that she was concerned, and Angie marveled at her composure.

“Yes, I talked to him at the bank yesterday when I returned the money.”

“Returned the money …” The piercing eyes held Angie’s for a long moment. “Are you planning to move back?”

An intense sadness settled over Angie. Simon’s mother was more concerned that she was going to intrude on their lives. The fact they might discover her subterfuge didn’t appear to concern her.

“No,” she answered simply. “I’ll be leaving town in the morning.”

The older woman looked relieved. “It was good to see you again, Angela. Although you may think differently, I do wish you well.”

Their eyes met and held over the top of the table. “I bear you no ill will,” Angie said, and, placing her hand against the edge of the table, stood. “Good-bye, Mrs. Canfield.”

The silver-haired woman lowered her gaze first. “Good-bye, Angela.”

Angie inserted the key into her apartment door, turned the latch to open it, and reached inside for the switch. A flood of light filled the room. She blinked and lowered her suitcase to the floor. Charleston seemed a different world from Groves Point. Here there was an elegance and grace that had all but vanished from the rest of the South, or at least what she’d seen of it.

Reaching for her cell, she called Glenn.

“Glenn,” she said, barely giving him time to answer. “Listen to me.”

His husky laugh met her. “Angie, of course I’ll listen to you. Are you back?”

“Yes, yes, I just walked in the door and I’m dying to see you.”

“I’m on my way, babe.”

The phone clicked in her ear, and with a sigh, Angie carried her suitcase into her bedroom. The drive would take Glenn a good twenty minutes; she would have time to shower and look her best.

The doorbell chimed exactly eighteen minutes later, and she crossed the floor quickly, flinging open the door. “Glenn,” she whispered. “Oh Glenn.” She reached for him, faintly aware that he was taller and more muscular than Simon. Her arms slid around his neck as she met his mouth in a fierce kiss.

With his arms wrapped around her waist, Glenn lifted her from the carpet and swung her around, closing the door with the heel of his shoe.

“If that’s the kind of warm welcome I get, I just may send you away more often.”

“And I’d go.” Angie smiled up into dark eyes. Glenn was a dear, dear man. There were few in all the world whom she trusted more. He wasn’t handsome, not in the way Simon was. His brow was wide and intelligent, his mouth a little too full and his nose a trifle too pronounced. But at this moment, Angie couldn’t recall a man more wonderful.

“Glenn, dear, sweet Glenn.” Leaning back, she held both his hands with her own. “You’ve asked me this question a hundred times and finally I can answer you.”

The teasing, happy glint left his eyes and Angie watched as they grew dark and intense.

“Yes, Glenn, I’ll marry you.”

With Prince trotting at his side, Simon rounded the last curve in the road that led him back to the house. The sun was rising, bathing the earth in the golden light of early morning. Sweat rolled off Simon’s face as a surge of energy carried him the last quarter-mile.

Just inside the driveway Simon paused, his hands on his knees as he leaned forward and dragged deep gulps of oxygen into his heaving lungs. He hated these early-morning runs and did them only as a means of self-discipline. But this morning had been different. With every foot that pounded the pavement, he filled his mind with thoughts of Angie. For the first time in more years than he cared to remember, his thoughts of her weren’t tainted with bitterness. Unbridled, his mind roamed freely over their early days and the little things that had attracted him to her. His heart hammered, and with every beat it repeated her name: Angie, Angie, Angie. He remembered the first time he’d ever really noticed her. She’d been standing by her locker in their high school, laughing with a friend. Her long, straight hair had reached her waist and shone as if blessed by a benevolent sun god. The musical sound of her laughter had caught him by surprise, and he paused to see what was so amusing. His gaze had found hers, and the feelings he had experienced when he viewed this slim, dark-haired girl had enthralled him. He knew she was a girl from Oak Street. Simon hadn’t even been sure he remembered her name.

From that moment on, he began to notice little things about Angela Robinson. His classmates often sought her out, pausing to say a few words to her on their way to class. Her smile had a way of lighting up her entire face. Her eyes were the darkest shade of brown he’d ever seen, a mysterious deep color. The girls came to her with their problems, knowing Angie was never too busy to listen. Even the guys set her aside in their minds. Subtly Simon had tried to find out what he could about her and discovered that where the guys were usually loose-tongued about girls, they weren’t about Angie. Even his best friend, Cal Spencer, seemed reluctant to talk about her.

“What do you want to know for?” Cal had insisted.

“I hadn’t noticed her before, that’s all. Is she new?” Simon knew she wasn’t. Faintly he could recall seeing her there sophomore year.

“No. She’s been around awhile.”

“Who’s she dating?” Simon pressed.

“Hey, man, she’s a nice kid, leave her alone. Okay?”

Cal’s words had irritated Simon.
Why does Cal care, anyway?
he had thought. This girl had captured his attention. The truth was, she wasn’t even that pretty. Not in the way Shirley Radcliff was, and he’d been dating her for weeks. The way things were going, he’d be sleeping with Shirley by summer. Most of the guys were already sexually active and took pride in recounting their experiences. Simon was seventeen, and he felt it was high time to share his own conquests.

“If you must know,” Cal cut in abruptly, “Angie looked over my term paper before I handed it in to that old biddy Carson.”