Golden Vows

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  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.

  What had she done to him? If she’d stayed another minute, another second, he’d have lost control, maybe even followed through on his threat to wring her neck. His fingers curled tightly around the delicate, crystal glass, and he had to force them to relax.

  Whom was he trying to kid? If he’d touched her, there would have been no threat. The feel of her smooth skin beneath his hand would have been his undoing and he would have crushed her in his arms and punished her with kisses until she yielded to his will.

  Once he wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Once he wouldn’t have doubted his right to touch her.

  And once she would have yielded.

  He stopped the useless thoughts. Once was gone. Over. Finished. She was leaving. And he would forget.

  Dane took another swallow of bourbon and felt his whirling thoughts slow and settle in his mind. It was best this way, he told himself. A divorce. A quick, clean break with the past.

  I’m leaving you.

  The memory of her softly spoken words twisted inside him like a knife blade. But the wound wasn’t fresh. Amanda had left him a long time ago. He didn’t know when or how or even why, but it had happened. So slowly that he hadn’t realized it until too late, she had drawn away from him, shut him out of her life by degrees and left him waiting helplessly for the finale.

  He’d been expecting her to do something to change the situation. He’d even been aware of her struggle to reach a decision, but still he felt as if his whole world had collapsed at his feet.

  And she had stood there, so calm and composed, with no desire to talk to him or to work things out. She had just stood there, as if leaving him were the easiest thing she would ever do. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how far apart they’d grown.

  I’m leaving you.

  Well, he could survive without her.

  He caught sight of his reflection in the window. The offset lighting gave back a distorted image, and he closed his eyes against what he saw there. But shutting out the visual image only made the inner one more clear.

  He was afraid.

  A derisive sound tore from his throat. He, Dane Cameron Maxwell, survivor of all challenges fate had thrown his way, was afraid that he couldn’t survive without Amanda.

  So why was he letting her leave? The whisper came faint but persistent from his heart. Had he grown so soft that he didn’t have the courage to fight for what he wanted?

  Considered the idea, he let his mind replay the conversation with Amanda. Was it his imagination or had he seen a flicker of disappointment in her eyes tonight? Was there an ember of love for him hiding behind that cool indifference?

  Determination flowed through him in a sudden, exhilarating wave and the fragile glass in his hand shattered under the pressure. He was hardly aware of the splintering glass, thinking only that he would make her love him again.

  “All right, Amanda,” he whispered to the silent night. “I’ll do things your way ... for now. If you want a divorce, we’ll go through the motions of getting one, but I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

  Picking up a napkin from the table, he dabbed at the cuts on his hand and studied the rock fireplace.

  He’d built that wall himself, stone by stone. And if it took every ounce of strength he possessed, he’d tear apart the wall Amanda had built between them.

  Stone by stone if necessary, but one way or another, he would win her back.

  Chapter Two

  The Maryland countryside rolled past the car window in vivid splashes of color as the odometer of Dane’s Mercedes clicked off the miles with solemn insistence. Amanda could almost hear the seconds ticking past with the same urgency. Time was spinning crazily forward, rushing her toward the inescapable consequences of her decision.

  Glancing sideways at Dane, she wondered if he dreaded the next few hours as much as she did. His face was unrevealing, his attention focused on the highway and his hands sure and confident on the steering wheel. If he had shared any of her apprehensions, it didn’t show.

  She turned her head and stared out the window, unable to deny her own disquiet. Her mother and father had accepted the news with concern, insisting that Amanda come home to them to think things through. But she had refused, knowing that their home was no longer hers and that she couldn’t bear their solicitous advice. Dane’s parents had offered their standard, pessimistic, “We’ve been expecting something like this to happen” answer.

  But Martha.

  Amanda felt a sigh catch in her throat. Telling Martha would be one of the harder consequences to face.

  Martha Pemberton had been friend, family, and surrogate mother to Dane since his childhood. Amanda had been surprised and at first, even a little jealous of his respect and love for the elderly woman. But Martha had soon stolen her heart as well, and there had never been any doubt about the love that overflowed from Martha to Dane and expanded to include Amanda. Over the years of her marriage Amanda had grown to feel as comfortable with Martha as she did with her own parents and infinitely more comfortable than she had ever felt with Dane’s.

  Brushing at an imaginary wrinkle in her navy cotton slacks, Amanda frowned. If only Dane had let her come alone.... But she knew, as well as he did, that Martha would expect them to face her disapproval together. Even though she herself had never married, Martha was a staunch believer in the institution of marriage, of couples working to make one last, and she wouldn’t be reticent about voicing her opinion.

  Amanda could imagine the fierce disappointment that would alter Martha’s usually amiable expression and roughen her already gruff voice. It was all too easy to imagine the look in her green eyes—a look that said they were naughty children in need of a scolding. And she would take it as her right to scold them.

  But in the end, she would accept the inevitable and love them both as unconditionally as she always had.

  Pressing her lips into a tight line, Amanda focused on the passing landmarks. Divorce. Was there no end to the guilt? She had wrestled with her conscience during the last few days, struggled with the reality of what she’d done. Leaving her marriage wasn’t a decision she’d reached overnight. It had been building inside her for months, but now that it was almost a fact, she was plagued by doubt. It was the right decision, the only logical thing to do.

  So why did it feel so wrong?

  She glanced at Dane’s familiar profile. How had they come to this? When had their love changed from the lighthearted give and take to this heavy feeling that there was nothing left to give? And when had the ordinary quarrels inherent in marriage changed to resentful, angry attacks that undermined the roots of their r
elationship? And when had the suffocating politeness begun?

  Amanda knew she could search her memory for the rest of her life and never pinpoint the beginning. Maybe it had started with the divergent course of their careers. As his architectural designs began to gain an appreciative audience, Dane had spent more and more time at the office and away from her. His business trips came more frequently and always at an inconvenient time for her. Finally he’d stopped asking her to accompany him. She had invested more of her energy in her own career as an interior design consultant, but that hadn’t satisfied her longing for a family.

  Maybe it had started when they decided to have a baby ... and couldn’t. Maybe it was Dane’s gradual forming of new friendships that never really included her. There could be a dozen maybes that sparked the beginning, she thought with a rueful sigh.

  Hurried meals, hurried conversations, a life-style that left them little time for each other. It had all spelled trouble, but she had been naively confident that the pace would slow, that they would be able to really communicate again, once they had a child. But when she finally did become pregnant, the respite from tension had been short-lived and nothing seemed to be right between them.

  And now, months later, they were traveling a familiar road on their way to face Martha and an impossible explanation of how they had come to this end.

  “Only a few more miles.” Dane’s voice brought her around to meet his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said as her stomach muscles tightened in protest. How could he be so calm? “Only a few more miles.”

  She noticed how his gaze lowered to her hands and immediately realized she was twisting her wedding ring back and forth. With a conscious effort she stopped the nervous action and wondered what habit would replace it once she removed the ring.

  “Not nervous, are you?” he asked casually.

  “Of course not.” She paused before tempering her denial with the truth. “At least not any more so than I was the first time you brought me to meet Martha.”