Reflections of Yesterday

by Debbie Macomber

  Simon leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “You cried.”

  Self-conscious, Angie lowered her gaze. “I always did.”

  “I know,” he said in a husky, low voice. “Angie …” He paused. “There hasn’t been anyone else, has there.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “No. I couldn’t.”

  He gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her throat. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life letting you know how much.”

  “Do you honestly think that’ll be long enough?” she teased.

  Clay’s eyes were closed when Angie went into the hospital room an hour and a half later. The nurse standing at his bedside glanced up as Angie entered the room.

  “He’s been comfortable,” the woman whispered, answering Angie’s question before she could ask it. “He’s showing signs of improvement.”

  Angie felt a rush of intense gratitude flow through her. “Good.”

  The nurse left a few minutes later after charting her findings. Angie pulled out a chair and sat, taking Clay’s hand between hers.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said softly. “Simon and I are back.”

  Simon stepped forward and placed a hand on Angie’s shoulder. “I don’t think he can hear you.”

  She turned around and smiled up at him warmly. “Maybe not, but I feel better talking to him.”

  Simon located a chair and scooted it beside Angie’s. “How is Clay going to feel about us?”

  “I … I don’t know.” Some of her happiness dimmed. “Once I talk to him and explain how much I love you, then he’ll come around.”

  “He’s hated me for a lot of years.”

  “Simon, Clay doesn’t hate you.”

  His hand squeezed her shoulder. “That’s something we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Yes, I guess we will.”

  They sat, both caught in their doubts for a long half hour.

  “Clay never says your name,” Angie said. “He calls you ‘that rich boy’ or ‘the Canfield boy.’ He’ll be surprised when he sees you to note that you’re far from a lad.”

  Simon’s soft chuckle was interrupted by a low strangling sound. At first Angie didn’t hear it. Only when the amusement drained from Simon’s eyes did Angie pick up on the soft sound. Standing, she stood over her father. “Daddy?”

  “Angelcake.” His voice was incredibly weak.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like hell … should be dead.”

  “No,” she protested.

  Quietly, Simon stood and moved to the back of the room, out of Clay’s line of vision.

  “You did wonderfully well,” she continued.

  Clay scoffed at her with a small mocking sound. “Do the doctors expect me to kick the bucket?”

  “No one’s given up on you yet,” Angie told him softly, and brushed the hair from his temple. “Least of all me.”

  “I may prove you right yet.”

  “Good.”

  Clay closed his eyes. The effort of keeping them open this short length of time had apparently drained him of all strength.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “I dreamed—”

  “Shhh.” She placed a finger over his lips. “We’ll talk later.”

  Within minutes, Clay returned to a peaceful slumber. Angie tossed a triumphant glance to Simon, her heart soaring. Her greatest fear had been that Clay would never wake up.

  A jubilant sensation filled her breast. “He’s going to be all right,” she announced confidently, holding her hand out to Simon. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  Simon’s arms slipped around her waist and he held her close. “I don’t doubt that Clay Robinson will be seeing his grandchildren.”

  Angie and Simon left the hospital after visiting hours. Night was settling like a restless cloud over the land. The sky was dark and threatening, promising an imminent rainfall.

  Simon followed Angie into her apartment.

  “Angie.” His voice was a husky caress. “Come here, love.”

  Obediently she walked into his embrace, sliding her arms around his waist and tilting her head back to smile at him. “You wanted something?” she teased.

  “If only you knew.”

  “I think I do.” She undid the first button of his shirt.

  “Just what do you have in mind?” he asked with mock surprise.

  “Let me show you, Mr. Canfield.” The second button followed. She smiled a little and arched a suggestive brow. When the shirt was unfastened, she eased it from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

  Hesitant at first, she reached out a hand and touched him, trailing her fingertips over the hard muscles of his naked torso. Simon closed his eyes and grinned. Angie’s exploring hands paused at his belt buckle.

  “You aren’t going to stop now, are you?” he challenged.

  “No.” Her voice was shallow and low. Her hands resumed their task, and she ceased breathing completely. “Simon,” she whispered, a little afraid. In their lovemaking he had always been the initiator.

  Apparently understanding her hesitancy, he opened his eyes and kissed her lightly. “It’s my turn now.” He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips.

  Seconds later her cotton blouse slid soundlessly to the floor and was soon followed by her slacks, so that she stood before him in only her bra and bikini panties.

  “Oh Angie,” he moaned. “You are so beautiful.”

  She bowed her head and her dark hair fell forward, wreathing her face.

  “What’s wrong?” He raised her eyes to his. “You don’t believe me?”

  She couldn’t answer him with words. Instead she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered reverently. “Thank you for loving me.”

  “Oh Angie.” He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, stopping every few steps to press a thick, seductive kiss to her eager mouth.

  He laid her on the unmade bed, his mouth feasting on hers while his hands fumbled with the tiny hooks of her bra. Once it was free, he tugged it from her arms.

  “Oh love,” he breathed. “I want you so much.”

  Long afterward, Angie lay in his embrace, her head cradled in the crook of his arm. Lazily her fingers toyed with the short, dark hair that grew at his navel. Words weren’t necessary. They were completely and utterly content. The living room light dispersed its golden shadow into the bedroom, and when Angie lifted her head she was surprised to note that Simon was asleep.

  Easing herself from his embrace, she kissed him lightly on the forehead and reached for her robe, wrapping it around her nakedness. As ideal as their few moments together had been, there were still many roads they had yet to traverse. Gazing down at him, Angie’s heart swelled with love. Together, she knew they would cross any bridge that was necessary. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

  Angie was in the kitchen, putting on coffee, when the doorbell rang. Her hand froze and she looked frantically toward the bedroom. There was only one person who would visit this late. Dread settled over her as she toyed with the idea of ignoring the bell. But Glenn would only ring again and wake Simon. That thought caused her to hurry across the room and open the door.

  “Angie.” Glenn stepped past her into the room. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get you for the past two days.” He paused, as if taking in her appearance for the first time. “I didn’t get you out of bed, did I?” He checked his watch. “It’s barely ten.”

  “Clay’s in the hospital.”

  Glenn raked his hand through his hair. “I feared as much. What was wrong, and why didn’t you call me?”

  “I …” She struggled for the right words. She didn’t want to hurt Glenn.

  “Angie?” Simon staggered into the room, his hair in disarray. His hastily donned pants left little conjecture as to his whereabouts. He stopped cold and straightened when he caugh
t sight of Glenn. The two men eyed each other with shocked disbelief.

  Eleven

  Glenn’s mouth twisted up at one corner as he regarded Angie with shock and embarrassment. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Glenn, please, I’m so sorry …” Angie’s eyes pleaded with him.

  “Angie’s been under a lot of stress,” Simon intervened, as he stepped into the room.

  Angie glanced at Simon and asked, “Let me have a few minutes alone with Glenn.”

  His nod was filled with understanding. He returned to the bedroom and was back a minute later fully dressed. He paused by the door, his eyes warming her as he murmured that he’d return in fifteen minutes. The door made a clicking sound as it closed.

  She smiled her appreciation and turned back to Glenn. His thick brows were bunched together to form a single intense line. His eyes were cold and angry; they looked as if they had frosted over. Angie had never seen Glenn like this.

  “Glenn,” she began haltingly, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you found out about Simon and me this way.”

  “Tell me one thing,” he ground out savagely. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

  Angie struggled to keep her voice calm, but her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. “Today was the first time … I would have let you know, only …”

  “Only what, Angie? Only you thought you might be able to hold on to me awhile longer, is that it?”

  “No,” she insisted.

  “I’ve always been honest with you. But I was a fool to expect that same kind of integrity from you.”

  “Glenn,” she begged, “it’s not like that.”

  “Then what was it like? You made a fool out of me. Couldn’t you have had the common decency to let me know about Clay? At least then I wouldn’t have worried and shown up here like an idiot.”

  She struggled to find the words. “You have been the most wonderful, patient man in the world.”

  “I’m not Saint Thomas Aquinas,” he barked. “Don’t try to pin those saintly virtues on me. I loved you. I wanted you to be my wife. But most of all, I respected and trusted you.”

  “I know what this must look like—”

  “It looks like exactly what it is: a sordid affair with an old lover.”

  “No.” Angie recognized that Glenn was lashing out at her with his pain, but she couldn’t allow him to distort the love she shared with Simon. “I won’t have you talk to me like that. I’ve loved Simon all my life. You knew as well as I did that … that if I’d married you I could never have given you the love you deserved.”

  Glenn’s reply was a low, mocking snort. “Do you want me to give you a medal because you gave Simon the love he deserved?”

  “Oh Glenn, you’ve twisted everything.”

  “I don’t know,” he argued, “it seems that for the first time in six months, I’m finally seeing everything clearly. You used me to get Simon back. That’s what you really wanted—your old lover.”

  Angie could see that arguing was useless. “You have been extremely patient and dear. I’m so sorry everything’s turned out like this, but when … when Clay became deathly ill I knew I couldn’t face losing him without Simon. He was the one I reached out to.”

  Glenn grimaced and his clenched jaw tightened all the more.

  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you for the world. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  “Sorry. You’re sorry?” He glared at her explosively.

  “I owe you so much. It pains me to do this to you.”

  “I was the fool,” Glenn barked. “A hundred times I could have had you. We should have been married weeks ago and you wouldn’t have any choice but to stay with me.”

  His words were cruel and mocking, and with every minute he looked more enraged.

  “I don’t think there’s any way to make this up to you. But I want you to know there will always be a special place in my heart for you.”

  “You used me.”

  Angie couldn’t deny it. “Please try to forget me, Glenn, and forgive me if you can. A thousand women would count themselves lucky to be loved by you.”

  “But you’re not one of them.”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry … so sorry.”

  “Don’t waste that emotion on me.” The air between them was as tight as a hunter’s bow stretched to its limits, ready to spring. “I can see there’s no need to waste my time. Enjoy your lover, Angie.”

  She kept her eyes shut until after the door was viciously closed. The harsh sound reverberated in the room.

  A few minutes later, Simon knocked lightly against the door. Angie hurried across the room to let him in. Instinctively she reached for him. He folded her into his embrace, his hands running soothingly down her back.

  Gratefully she accepted his comfort, pleased that he had given her this time alone with Glenn. It hadn’t been easy for him; she’d known that by the troubled look in his eye.

  “What did he say?” Simon asked.

  She shook her head hard. “It isn’t important.”

  “He was angry.”

  “I wish I could have spared him the pain of finding us like this. I blame myself for that. I should have called him.”

  “He’ll recover,” Simon said confidently.

  “I hope so,” she whispered, tightening her grip.

  They slept in each other’s arms, content just to cuddle close. It surprised Angie that after all the years of sleeping alone her body would adjust so easily to sharing a bed. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t have been that way with another man. Only Simon.

  She woke to find him grinning at her beguilingly. “Morning,” he whispered, and kissed her warmly.

  Angie looped her arms around his neck and smiled into his eyes. “I could get used to waking up next to you.”

  “You’d better. I don’t plan to sleep without you.”

  “Good.” Her index finger wove around his curly chest hairs. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “No.” Simon’s voice was deep and resonant.

  “Yes, I have.” She giggled. “You simply weren’t listening.”

  “Hmm, I was listening,” he said, and buried his face in the rounding slope of her shoulder to tease her unmercifully with small, biting kisses. “But I’m a man of action. Shall I demonstrate just how much I love you?”

  “Oh yes,” she whispered, her leg sliding provocatively up and down his. “But I feel I should warn you, it may take a lifetime to prove it to me properly.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Angie Canfield,” he growled, before hungrily lowering his mouth to claim hers.

  The morning was half spent before they ever left the bedroom.

  After a leisurely brunch, Angie dressed and prepared herself for a visit to the hospital.

  “You’ve gotten quiet all of a sudden.” Simon stood behind her, his hands cupping her shoulders as she rinsed off the breakfast dishes. “Are you worried about your father?”

  Angie had phoned the hospital twice and each time received an encouraging report. “No,” she whispered unconvincingly.

  “You’re frightened of what he’s going to say about us, aren’t you, love?”

  “I’m afraid it’s all going to happen again.” She turned around and gripped his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. She was comforted by the even, reassuring sound of his heartbeat. “Dad hates Groves Point …”

  “And the Canfields,” Simon added.

  “Yes.”

  “But he’s forgetting something important. Something that we’ll need to remind him of today, if necessary. You, Angie, are a Canfield. You have been for twelve years.”

  “But, Simon …” she argued, and lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Today we’ll make it clear that we have no intention of ever being separated again.”

  “But he’s ill.”

  “Good,” Simon argued. “There won�
�t be much fight in him. He’ll simply have to accept what we say.”

  Angie didn’t feel any of the confidence Simon apparently did when they drove to the hospital. She hesitated outside Clay’s room. “Maybe it would be better if I talked to him first,” she suggested, her eyes seeking his approval.

  Simon paused. “You’re sure you don’t want me with you?”

  She answered him with a short nod, laid her open palms on his hard chest, and kissed him briefly on the lips.

  Clay was awake when Angie entered the room. He didn’t make an effort to greet her. From the disapproving look in his eyes, Angie wondered if Glenn had come to Clay. As quickly as the thought came, Angie rejected it. Glenn would never do anything so petty. Clay looked so incredibly ill that her steps faltered. The hospital had assured her that her father was out of immediate danger, but she knew that the road to a complete recovery would be long and difficult.

  “Hi, Dad.” She leaned over and brushed her lips to his forehead.

  “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you all morning. The least you could do is visit a dying man who happens to be your only living relative.”

  Feelings of guilt immediately assailed her. “I … woke late. When I called the hospital they said you were resting comfortably.”

  “Ha! That just goes to show you what they know.”

  “I’m here now.” She clenched his hand in hers and held it close to her heart. “How are you feeling?”

  “How do you expect me to feel? The pain would have killed most men. I nearly died. Do you think those doctors were gentle with that knife?”

  “No … you suffered terribly.”

  “It ain’t much better now.”

  Angie sighed miserably. This wasn’t going well. Clay was like a demanding, unreasonable child. She lowered her gaze to the hospital bed and the white sheets. “I have something to tell you.” Her voice nearly failed her, and her resolve wasn’t much better. If Simon hadn’t been standing on the other side of the door, Angie wouldn’t have had the courage to continue. “When you were so deathly ill and I didn’t know if you were going to live or die, I was so afraid. I was terrified of losing you.”

  Clay patted her hand impatiently. “You nearly did lose me. That’s why I can’t understand the reason it took you so long to get to the hospital.” He looked at her empty hands. “And the least you could do is bring me the newspaper.”