Golden Vows

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Today was the only reality. She could manage to enjoy today; she could even make plans for tomorrow, but she wouldn’t look too far ahead. Forever was an evanescent promise of starry-eyed lovers. It no longer held any meaning for her.

  As a breeze drifted across the water to toss the midnight darkness of her hair, Amanda turned toward the door of the house.

  Home, she reminded her heart.

  This was the home she had redecorated as a new beginning. Dane was doing fine without her and the feeling of loss would leave her someday. It was only natural that she would experience some loneliness, that she would miss him.

  A normal part of breaking away, she thought as she left the memories outside the door. Natural and normal and ... empty.

  Chapter Five

  Dane stepped from the sunlight into the shelter of the building’s overhang. He paused there, the indecision tightening across his chest.

  Amanda was near. He knew it logically, rationally, of course, because he had come here to find her, but he also knew it in the tense awareness that seemed to bind his every nerve ending. In a few minutes he would see her, look into the blue morning of her eyes and say....

  God in heaven, what would he say? I miss you? I love you? Come home to me? He could say those things with perfect honesty, but if he did, he would risk an outright rejection. Slow and casual, he had to remember that. He hadn’t spent the last hellish weeks of waiting only to blow his chances on an impulse.

  It was going to take time to gain a foothold in Amanda’s life and even longer to reach past her cool facade to the woman he loved. And he had nothing but time to lose.

  Dane pushed aside the edges of his suit jacket and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. It had been a little over two months since he’d driven away from the cottage, feeling that he wanted to physically smash someone or something, but leaving Amanda to the solitude she wanted. He had meant to give her three full months to think, and he had meant to keep himself too occupied to miss her.

  A scornful breath pulled at the tautness in his throat. He hadn’t been capable of doing either. Here he was, a good three weeks ahead of his self-imposed limitation, as eager and nervous as a boy in the throes of puppy love.

  But this malady was far more serious. If he’d had any doubts about the intensity of his love for her, the days since Amanda left him had crushed them out of existence.

  How could he have been married to her for so long and never really appreciated what an integral part she played in his every thought? He’d been self-sufficient before she came into his life; he hadn’t needed anyone else. Until Amanda.

  Amanda. Even her name was a part of him, a deeply intimate, unconscious part of him. She was constantly with him, in an elusive, intangible way. Ever on the fringes of his mind. Always that empty yearning in his arms.

  Had she missed him at all? Martha said Amanda was pining away with missing him, but then you could never depend on what Martha said. She had a way of coloring the truth to suit herself and he had a sinking feeling that Amanda was doing quite well without him despite Martha’s assertions to the contrary.

  Well, today he would know. He had stayed away as long as he could, longer than he had wanted, but today he was going to see her, hear her voice, and he would know. The prospect filled him with dread, but he had to follow through. He must see her now.

  With a cognizant effort to relax, he moved beneath the shadow of the overhang toward the sounds of children playing. A smile tucked into the corners of his mouth as he rounded the building and saw the playground. Sturdy little bodies of all shapes and sizes scampered in every direction, too busy, too secure to pay much attention to him.

  Dane watched them with curious fascination, delighting in their energy and enthusiasm. He wondered if his son would have romped so boisterously through childhood. The curve of his smile deepened. Paul Christopher Maxwell would undoubtedly have been the accepted leader of a crew of rowdy preschoolers. Sadness clouded the thought and Dane silently cursed the fate that had robbed his son of that opportunity.

  Then, suddenly, the noisy scene before him faded as his body became alert to her nearness. Crazy, of course, but so real that he knew she couldn’t be far away.

  Amanda.

  Amanda.

  He saw her then. She stood, graceful and lovely, at the other side of the playground. Turned slightly, she didn’t see him immediately, and Dane took advantage to absorb the sight of her into his thirsty soul.

  Damn Martha’s well-meaning interference! Pining away? Amanda had never looked so glowingly healthy. Her cheeks were flushed with the sun’s warmth, her skin more tanned than he ever remembered it being before. Even from where he stood he could tell that her legs were creamy brown and bare beneath her print wraparound skirt. Her lavender knit shirt accentuated the fullness of her breasts and her slender, feminine shape.

  Maybe she was a little thinner, he decided. And were those shadows beneath her eyes or just the smudgy line of her lashes? There was a difference in her, although he couldn’t put his finger on it. He studied her now with concern, looking for a physical sign that she might have missed him.

  Her hair was longer, curving almost to her shoulders. Was she letting it grow again? He hoped so. Over and above the sensual pleasure of touching it, he thought it was a good sign. She had cut it the day after the funeral, had it cropped in a becoming cap of curls. Easier to take care of, she had said, but he’d known better.

  She had wanted no outward signs of her grief and so she had banished the black mourning veil of hair. When he’d seen the short, wispy curls and realized what she’d done, he had wanted to cry—for her, for himself, and for the comfort she wouldn’t allow him to give.

  As if conscious of his observation, she lifted a hand to brush at her hair and, for a second, he thought she would turn toward him. Impulsively, he took a few steps closer to her, but if she sensed his presence, she gave no indication, directing her attention instead to a child with a brown, bobbing ponytail and indignant eyes awash with crocodile tears.

  “Teacher. Teacher.” The child tugged at Amanda’s skirt and Dane couldn’t resist a brief smile at the small, petulant voice and the way Amanda immediately stooped to make eye contact with her charge. Her response was too soft for Dane to distinguish the words, but his pulse raced as he recognized the throaty tones. Quietly, trying not to attract any notice, he moved closer.

  “J-Jason called me names, Teacher.” The child sniffed in an obvious plea for sympathy. “He said my name was Mandy Candy and it isn’t, Teacher, is it?”

  Amanda soothed the imagined injury with a touch of her hand on the brown ponytail. “No, of course it isn’t. Your name is Amanda, just like mine. But would you like to know a secret? I think Jason must like you very much if he calls you Mandy.”

  “Oh.” The tears disappeared like magic and the glimmer of childish understanding took their place. “Jason likes you, Teacher. Does he call you Mandy Candy too?”

  Amanda’s lips curved in amusement. “No, Jason calls me Mrs. Maxwell or Teacher just as you do. But a long time ago someone used to call me Mandy and it made me feel ... special.”

  “Ooohhh.” This time understanding sparkled confidently in the child’s tiny features. “Did he like you very much?”

  Amanda’s smile softened with fleeting sadness. “Yes, he liked me very much.”

  Satisfied, the child nodded and skipped off to play, her ponytail swaying in rhythm to her steps. Amanda rose slowly and turned just enough to look straight at Dane. For a moment in time he thought his heartbeat was clearly audible above the surrounding noise and, in the same instant, he thought his heart must surely have stopped beating.

  So lovely.

  He hadn’t forgotten the smallest detail of her face, yet he was captured anew by the familiar piquancy. As a smile dawned in the blue-violet eyes, Dane felt his breath swell and compress in his throat, only to slide effortlessly from his lungs when the smile discovered her lips.

  Ama
nda. Oh, Amanda.

  “Hello, Mandy,” he said in a quietly controlled voice. Did she have any idea how little control he really had? He lightened his tone deliberately. “Or should I say Mandy Candy?”

  Her brows arched in whimsical challenge. “Only if you want to get pushed off the jungle gym.”

  His smile came easily, along with a string of pleasant memories. “Point taken. I’ll steer clear of jungle gyms and nicknames. As I recall, you pushed me off the sailboat once for the same offense.”

  “Did I really?” she asked softly ... so softly. “Well, I’m sure you deserved it.”

  He wondered if nervousness made her voice breathy or if it was just the breeze that altered the sound. “I’m sure I did,” he said with husky reminiscence. Dane watched the blush steal into her cheeks and knew she was remembering —just as he was—the intimate teasing that had been so natural then.

  Amanda felt the warmth that tinted her cheeks with color and the heated memory that suffused her body with longing for that once-upon-a-time. A time when they had each savored the taste of provocative words and the exchange of secret glances. Wrapped in the wondrous mystery that belonged to all lovers and yet was uniquely their own, they had laughed and learned and loved.

  It had been a perfect honeymoon. Two weeks of gentle winds and blue skies, brown eyes and caressing hands, dark hair tangled with blond, his body and hers clothed only in moonlight. Two weeks alone with Dane. A memory that circumstances could not tarnish. A happy memory she could only cherish more with time.

  “You’re a long way from Baltimore.” Amanda tried to assume a casual manner as she silently commanded her gaze away from him. She was staring at him like a lost puppy that finally sees a friendly face. “I certainly never expected to see you here.”

  “Small world, isn’t it?” he offered lightly. “But since I am here, would you like a lift home?”

  Her gaze returned to him and she felt unexpectedly cautious and uneasy. Amanda shied from the many possible reasons for his sudden appearance and settled on the most obvious and least important. “Let me guess,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Mr. MacGregor had an attack of poison ivy or something equally disabling and Martha twisted your arm until you cried ‘Chauffeur.’ Right?”

  “Now, how did you know?” Dane closed the gap between them with two steps. “Martha thought she’d invented the perfect alibi. Poor MacGregor. She’s probably soaked him in anti-itch cream just for the sake of authenticity.”

  “Poor MacGregor, nothing. He’s never done anything Martha wanted him to do and I’m sure he hasn’t started now. I’m sorry, though, that Martha coerced you into coming for me.”

  “My pleasure. Besides, there are some things I need to discuss with you.”

  Her heart sank in slow degrees to her toes. Things to discuss. She imagined the rustle of crisp legal-size papers and knew what he wanted to discuss. With a blind glance at her watch, Amanda nodded agreement. “I’ll be ready to leave in twenty minutes.” Her hand fidgeted with the hair at her nape. Had she seemed too eager? Did he recognize how very glad she was to see him? Did he know how very hard it was to pretend she was only pleasantly surprised?

  “My car’s in the shop for a tune-up,” she said, although she knew it was a pointless explanation. “That’s why Mr. MacGregor was chauffeuring me today.”

  “I know. Martha told me.” Dane smoothed the striped fabric of his tie as his gaze strayed past Amanda to the play equipment behind her. “If it’s all right, I’ll wait for you here.” A glint of humor shaded the set of his mouth. “You never know what sort of tip you’ll pick up when you hang around the jungle gym.”

  “Hang around? Figuratively speaking, I hope?”

  The familiar tilt of his head and his leisurely smile caught at her heart’s composure. “I’m afraid so. Even if I had the energy, I doubt I could compete with those sturdy little guys.” He nodded toward the preschoolers climbing busily on the bars. Amanda watched as ever so slowly his smile dimmed, clouded by impotent wishes that she understood all too well. “Does it bother you to work here, Amanda?” he asked, his eyes seeking empathy in hers.

  Consciously, she looked away as her heart closed over the feelings his words evoked and shielded them from exposure. She lifted a hand to her hair and then touched her lips, discovering the practiced curve was already in place.

  “No, of course not,” she answered in crisp, casual misinterpretation. “I enjoy every minute. There’s a lot to learn though. A lot more to good child care than most people realize. And speaking of child care, I’d better take my class inside and get them ready to go home. When I’m through for the day, I’ll meet you at the car—the Mercedes?” At his nod she turned her attention to calling her class together and then walked toward the building with the children following at her heels.

  Once inside, Amanda had little time to think about Dane or to dwell on the reason for his unexpected appearance, but his nearness enveloped her in a misty blend of pleasure and pain. She passed out papers and paintings with a steady hand, patiently answered a thousand questions, and made sure each child left with the right parent. She exchanged laughing comments with Kathleen, the head teacher of the preschool class, as they tidied the room. It seemed like hours to Amanda before she could finally slip from the building and into the sunshine.

  Her gaze scanned the street for Dane’s car as she hesitated just outside the door. She found the Mercedes ... and Dane. With arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the front fender. His suit jacket stretched taut over his shoulders and his hair was disheveled by the wind. Amanda thought how she had often played the wind’s ally and tousled his hair with teasing fingers. Only sometimes she hadn’t been teasing—-she had been breathlessly, passionately serious.

  She stood for just a moment, watching him, giving herself time to notice all the details she hadn’t forgotten and yet hadn’t been able to clearly recall either. With the perspective of several weeks, Amanda decided he had lost some weight and gained an enviable tan. It was purely conjecture on her part, considering the three-piece summer suit he wore, and she wished he were dressed in cutoffs and nothing more.

  Her gaze lowered to sinewy legs covered by lightweight khaki trousers, and then lifted to the glimpse of white shirt front that concealed his lean stomach and sun-kissed skin. Yes, she definitely preferred Dane in cutoffs—or in nothing at all.

  It was a thought that wouldn’t have occurred to her a few weeks ago, but Amanda didn’t chase it away. There wasn’t anything wrong in admiring the special qualities that made a man attractive, was there?

  Men were notorious for quoting and misquoting those same sentiments about women, so why should she feel embarrassed?

  Self-consciously she shifted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and drew a deep breath. Dane wasn’t just a man she found attractive. He was her estranged husband and he had come to discuss their divorce. Amanda sighed. She had no business thinking of him as attractive, whether he was dressed immodestly or not.

  With an attempt at swallowing her nervous apprehension, she walked toward him and stopped a few feet away “Dane? I’m ready to leave now.”

  He turned his head and the look in his eyes was dark and distant, as if he’d been lost in thought and had been brought reluctantly back to reality. Slowly he straightened and moved to open the car door for her. She slid onto the seat and tried to quell the familiar sense of belonging there, in the place next to him. When he got in beside her and started the car, Amanda wondered how something that felt right could also feel very wrong.

  “Would you like to stop somewhere for a drink?” Dane glanced in her direction. “Or we could have dinner if you’d like.”

  “No,” Amanda answered too quickly. “I’m not hungry. Or thirsty. Thanks anyway.” She clasped her hands and smiled stiffly at the windshield. How she hated being so conscious of every word she spoke and every movement she made. Dane appeared cool, calm, and indifferent to the tense awareness that coursed
her veins with a disconcerting static effect.

  She wanted the trip to be over. She wanted it to continue. Contradictions sparked in her mind and wound into a tangle of nerves. “What did you need to discuss with me?” she asked at last, waiting, half-afraid to hear his reply.

  Dane reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, but his hand came out empty. With a slight frown he patted the outside pockets and then his shirt pocket. “Damn. I must have forgotten it.” His cheeks creased with a rueful grimace. “I brought—intended to bring—the inventory to go over with you.”

  “Inventory?” Amanda asked, glancing at him cautiously.

  “The list of household furnishings and personal items that have to be divided in the settlement.” His brows arched as if he were surprised she had asked. “Your attorney’s requested it several times, but I’ve just been too busy with the Reichmann account to get it done before now. I hope the delay hasn’t caused you any problem.”

  “Oh, no.” Amanda felt the rough assessment of his eyes on her, but she kept the stiff smile firmly in place. She vaguely remembered her attorney asking her about an inventory and she had wondered why the divorce proceedings were taking such a long time, why the court date for the final decree had not been set. She had simply signed the petition papers and had closed her mind to the details until she was forced to face them—like now. “I guess this means another delay, though, since you forgot to bring it with you.” Something about the idea didn’t quite fit and her gaze turned to him curiously. “Funny. It isn’t like you to forget.”

  His eyes met hers for an infinite second. “But then I don’t have you around to remind me, do I, Amanda?” Before she had a chance to consider the meaning of his words or the throaty tone of his voice, he lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “We don’t have to have the list. I suppose we could just talk about the few things I wasn’t sure what to do with.”