Golden Vows

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Dane.” It was a painful breath that barely warmed her lips in passing, but she waited for him to hear.

  He heard long before she breathed out his name. He had known by her stillness, by the slow withdrawal of her spirit even as her body still clung to his. He tightened his arms around her as if he could stop her retreat, but he knew it was a futile gesture.

  Amanda had left him ... again.

  He straightened, releasing her by degrees, schooling his features to a calm facade that matched her composure. Not by the flicker of an eyelash would he reveal the aching frustration inside him. He had known better, had warned himself not to touch her but, for just a moment, he had thought she needed him. And he had wanted so desperately to believe that she did.

  Why was he putting himself through this slow agony? Why couldn’t he leave her now and never look back? It was what any sensible, sane man would do. But as he watched her bend to lift her skirt from the floor and wrap it around her slender hips with a quiet dignity, he knew he wouldn’t give up. Amanda had to stop running away from her emotions sometime. Sometime she would have to face all the feelings she had hidden from her heart. Sometime she would cry. And when she did, he would be there to hold her.

  She looked up and he tried to reassure her with a smile, but he couldn’t be sure his attempt was recognizable. “Dane,” she said in a raspy whisper. “I’m sorry I let that happen.”

  “Don’t.” He cut through her words with a shake of his head. How could he bear to hear her apologize for something that he had wanted, needed so badly? He inhaled a deep, shaky breath and tried another smile to soften the brusqueness of his voice. “I think I’ll skip the iced tea, Amanda. I’m not really thirsty anymore.”

  She nodded, her blue eyes regarding him with shadowy regret.

  “Are you going to the reception for Jim Barnett next month?” Dane asked, not sure where the thought had come from but grateful for the impersonal tone that might, just might, erase the look in her eyes. “He’s made some elaborate plans for his retirement and I know he’ll be disappointed if you aren’t at the party.”

  The curve of her lips was brief. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Jim, but I don’t know. It would be the first time I’ve gone to something like that without–”

  The rest of the thought went unspoken, but Dane finished it in his mind. Without you. That was what she had almost said and he wished he could ask her to go with him. But she would only refuse. If she came to the reception at all, it would be alone. “Maybe I’ll see you there,” he offered as casually as he could.

  “Maybe.”

  Her voice was crisp now, almost curt, and he knew there was no point in lingering. He toyed with the idea of mentioning the inventory list again, but decided she had heard the word divorce enough for one day. He didn’t want her to begin questioning the delays that he and Jerry had worked so hard to achieve.

  With one last, lingering look at her, he said good-bye and walked away from the house. In the car he curled his hands around the steering wheel, steadying his resolve to leave. One quick twist of the key and he would be on his way. He had seen Amanda, talked with her, touched her.

  It was more than he had hoped for, but less than he’d wanted. Still, it was a start. His fingers found the key and gave it a twist. The Mercedes purred to life and, in a matter of seconds, he was driving away from the cottage, away from Amanda and into a hot, summer evening.

  Dane noted the heat with a frown.

  As far as he was concerned, it was already cold, gray winter.

  Chapter Six

  “Amanda!” The call came above the muted conversation in the crowded room.

  Amanda tracked the sound with her gaze, tilting her head to the side so she could see around the elderly couple in front of her. She lifted a hand to answer Meg’s wave and waited patiently for the couple to move through the reception line ahead of her. The taffeta fabric of her dress made a lazy swish against her legs as she stepped forward to offer congratulations to Jim Barnett.

  His hefty handshake and disarming smile almost concealed the expectant glance he tossed, and then recovered, when he realized the person behind her in line was not Dane. It was a simple, split-second mistake, but Amanda caught it and wished that she had stayed home.

  She moved on after a brief exchange with the guest of honor and stopped to take a glass of punch before walking toward the terrace doors where Meg waited. “Hi,” Amanda said, feeling a little awkward and out of place despite their longstanding friendship. “You look gorgeous tonight. Is that a new dress?”

  Meg looked down as if she couldn’t remember what she was wearing. Her gaze went from the slim lines of her black sarong to Amanda’s dress. Amanda smiled at her friend’s wide-eyed expression, knowing the red taffeta with its softly flared skirt and deep, rounded neckline was unusual and certainly eye-catching. She had bought it for that very reason.

  It had been difficult to commit herself to coming to the reception in the first place, but once committed, she’d decided she needed a little extra confidence. So she’d shopped for the right dress. The vivid color made her feel somewhat flashy, but she knew that, for all its brightness, the dress was deliciously feminine and extremely flattering, a much-needed ego builder for the evening ahead.

  Meg wrinkled her nose. “Considering that your dress positively shouts ‘Paris designer,’ you don’t know how much I’d like to say I dug this old rag out of the closet. However, I’ll be gracious and accept wallflower status next to your rose.”

  Amanda laughed softly. “Now, Meg, is that a subtle way of suggesting I help you prop up the wall?”

  “Not a chance of that,” Meg said with a shake of her head. “As soon as Jerry gets through wiping the fog from his glasses, he’s going to ask you to dance. I know that look, Amanda, and if I were you, I’d refuse.”

  Glancing toward Meg’s husband, Amanda leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me why I shouldn’t dance with such an attractive man?”

  Meg’s gaze went lovingly to the brown-haired, blue-eyed Jerry. “He really is attractive, isn’t he? If I weren’t already married ...” The words ended on a sigh.

  “But you are married,” Amanda reminded her. “To him.”

  “I know.” Meg’s divine dimples appeared. “That’s what makes it so nice.”

  It was a sentiment Amanda could identify with—she had often felt the same way about Dane. Many times, in a roomful of people, she had thought her husband the most attractive, most desirable man present. And it had been nice, indescribably nice, to exchange a look, a touch, and to know that not another person could interpret the quiet communion of their thoughts.

  A whispery chill of isolation slid down her back. How odd it seemed to feel so alone in a familiar crowd. Truly alone. She was no longer a part of a comfortable twosome, and the realization wedged tightly in her throat.

  “Amanda, you look great!” Jerry presented the compliment to Amanda as he absently handed Meg a glass of punch. “Would you like to dance?” He pushed his dark-framed glasses into place with a jab of his index finger and smiled at Meg. “You don’t mind if Amanda and I take a turn around the floor, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Meg answered sweetly. “I’ll just wait here and lean firmly against the wall.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’d hate for it to fall.” Jerry grinned and leaned forward to kiss Meg’s cheek. “Here, while you’re supporting the wall, hold Amanda’s punch, would you?” Smoothly, he took Amanda’s cup from her hand and placed it in Meg’s. “We’ll be right back. Come on, Amanda, let me show you what a mean jitterbug I can do.”

  “Jitterbug?” As Jerry guided her away, Amanda mouthed the word to Meg, but met only a mischievous wink.

  “I did try to warn you,” Meg said, and with an innocent shrug, she turned to speak to another guest.

  Amanda followed Jerry’s lead, although she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to dance. She felt uncomfortable despite the fact that he didn’t even come close to
doing the jitterbug.

  “You really do look great tonight, Amanda.” Jerry drew back to smile at her with the ease of long acquaintance. “It’s good to see you. The neighborhood get-togethers haven’t been the same without you and....”

  Dane. Amanda disguised the sigh that rose to her lips and decided to face the issue squarely. There was no point in avoiding the mere mention of his name. She returned Jerry’s smile. “Doesn’t Dane join you at the get-togethers? He is still part of the neighborhood, you know.”

  “We don’t see him often, but it isn’t for lack of invitations. Everyone is rallying around him, trying to help—” Jerry broke off the sentence. “I mean, we’re all hoping, of course, that the two of you will–”

  This time Amanda broke through the words. “It’s all right, Jerry. I realize this is an awkward situation.” Awkward? It was awful, and she wished again that she were anywhere else but here, among familiar strangers who cared about her. She cleared her throat to make room for some confidence. “As soon as the divorce is final, it will be easier for everyone. I have wondered why it’s taking so long. My attorney only mumbles some legal jabberwocky about court appearances and delays. Isn’t there something we can do to speed things along?”

  Jerry concentrated on making a neat turn and adding an interesting shuffle to his dance step. “These things take time, Amanda. Are you really in that much of a hurry? Have you met someone else?”

  “No,” she snapped, astonished that he could even give that thought a second’s consideration. “And I’m not in a hurry. I’d just like to have the matter settled.”

  “It is settled, isn’t it? A piece of paper doesn’t make you divorced any more than a marriage license automatically makes you married. You and Dane seem to have everything worked out to your mutual satisfaction, so I don’t see any reason to rush the final decree.”

  “I suppose there isn’t any particular reason, but I do think it’s better to get it done.”

  “Good. It probably won’t take more than another month or so.” He twirled her once more around a corner of the tiny dance floor as the music swayed toward an ending. “You realize, don’t you, that I’m honor-bound to make at least one effort to get you and Dane to talk to each other and try to work out your problems. It’s a matter of ethics, you understand.”

  Amanda let a breath of impatience escape. “Jerry, I appreciate your concern, but even I know that isn’t necessary. Besides, my attorney hasn’t said anything about an attempt at reconciliation, by his instigation or by yours.”

  “Can I help it if you chose an unethical lawyer?” Jerry shrugged as they turned in unison to make their way back to Meg. “Ethics aside, Amanda, this divorce is all wrong. You and Dane belong together.”

  Pressing her lips into a firm line, Amanda ran a hand beneath the loose curls at her nape. She should have avoided any and all mention of Dane. It was easy to see that now that Jerry’s reticence to broach the subject of the divorce had yielded to good-intentioned interference. “That’s really a matter of opinion,” Amanda said in a tone designed to close the conversation.

  Jerry stopped her progress across the room with a touch of his hand on her arm. “What would you say if I told you that Dane shares my opinion?”

  With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Amanda turned around to face Jerry once more. “I’d say you’re a dear friend, but please don’t push for a reconciliation. It isn’t going to happen and it can only strain our friendship.”

  Jerry’s frown was cheerfully rueful. “In words that even a lawyer can understand, mind your own business.”

  “Well put.” She smiled then, and together they walked to where Meg stood talking with several friends. Amanda exchanged greetings with Bob and Terri Henderson and another couple whom she knew only slightly. Meg’s smile seemed a little forced and it took Amanda a full minute to guess the reason.

  Dane had arrived. Amanda couldn’t see him yet, but the looks that strayed past her shoulder and then jerked guiltily back to her were evidence enough. The trivial conversation within the group came in fits and starts and was as obvious as the clumsy silences between.

  Amanda curled her fingers into the crisp fabric of her dress, knowing that she was the cause of the unnatural stiltedness. The tension in the air around her pulled and snapped at her nerves as Meg began talking about a planned trip to Cancun.

  Let them talk, Amanda thought. Let them discuss vacations or Mexico or any number of other amiable topics. She had nothing to say. Her intangible separation from this group of friends was as inexplicable as it was true. She was separated from them by the simple fact that she and Dane were in the same room, but were not together. And she was separated from Dane by a width of several feet and a hundred questions that would never be asked or answered.

  The distance to him was easily and unexpectedly bridged by her all-too-eager gaze. Her breathing wavered unevenly as, at the same instant, he turned to look in her direction. It was unsettling to meet his dark eyes across the crowded room and Amanda stood staring, unable to fathom the clouded emotions skimming through her senses.

  It was almost like seeing him for the first time, almost as if the seconds hung suspended and then spun backward to the moment she had seen him as a stranger and yet had felt her heart stir with recognition. They had stood then, as they did now, locked in a visual embrace, each uncertain of the other, but aware of the silent communication between them.

  Amanda forced her gaze away and brought her thoughts to heel. No matter how intimately she had once known him, Dane was now a stranger to her heart and there was no communication between them, silent or otherwise.

  It just wasn’t fair that in one brief look she had noticed so many things about him—the new, slightly different style of his hair, the courtly smile that barely tipped his lips. His white jacket and black slacks might have seemed out of place on any other man, but they looked distinctive and very right on him. The masculine grace that defined his every movement remained clear in her mind. Even now she thought him the most attractive, most desirable man in the room, and her pulse raced with conflicting emotions.

  “Will you be able to come?” Terri asked, jarring Amanda back to the conversation.

  Glancing to Meg for a clue to the question, Amanda lifted her hand in a noncommittal gesture. “I’m not sure. Can I let you know later?” With a desperate hope that her answer made sense, she smiled weakly and decided to leave as soon as she politely could.

  “It sounds like fun, Amanda.” Meg’s lifted eyebrow and tone of voice warned that “it” really didn’t sound like fun at all. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting Terri’s brother.”

  “I know you’ll like him,” Terri agreed immediately. “And he’ll like you. I’ll just be careful not to mention to him that you’re coming. He has this crazy superstition about blind dates.”

  Amanda stiffened with the panicky impulse to laugh. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Terri, but I’m afraid I have a crazy superstition about blind dates, myself. So it just wouldn’t work out.” Her voice faltered at the excuse, but she slipped it past with a smile. “What did you do with my punch, Meg? Oh, never mind, I’ll get some more.” With an abrupt turn Amanda left her friends and headed for the bar.

  She asked the bartender for a tonic water and told herself that it would be rude to leave now. She could maintain her composure for another half-hour, couldn’t she? Of course she could.

  As long as no one else suggested a blind date. The idea sent a repulsive shiver through her. How could Terri—how could anyone—believe she would want a date, whether he was blind or could see in the dark?

  With a grimace of distaste at the adolescent pun, Amanda turned to accept the drink from the bartender with a gracious, if somewhat artificial smile. As she moved toward the open terrace doors, she decided it had been at least seven years since she’d had a date, and even then it had been with Dane.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out with another man. And she certainly had no
desire to do so now. Date. Even the word sounded juvenile.

  On the terrace she sought a secluded corner and sipped at the drink in her hand. Perhaps it was a good thing she had come to the reception. At least now she knew that a divorce changed everything, even old friendships. Although no one had meant for it to happen, the pattern of easy camaraderie had been broken and Amanda knew that over a period of time she would lose contact with most of the people here tonight.

  She could accept that. What bothered her was the nagging possibility that Dane would continue to be a part of this circle of friends, and that one day her place in the group would be taken by someone else— someone who would also take her place in Dane’s life. She shivered suddenly and rubbed her arm as if there were a chill in the air.

  Too late.

  The words blew in a cool whisper through her mind. Too late for regrets. Too late to go back. Too late to consider the ever-widening ripple of consequences. Too late. Too late.

  Too late.

  Pivoting to escape the whispery voices of remorse, she froze at the sight of Dane, who stood just outside the doorway watching her. Slowly, his lips curved a greeting as he took the few steps to her side.

  “Hello, Amanda.” The deep resonance of her name echoed within her and warmed her like the melody of an old song. “I’m glad you decided to come,” he said. “Are you enjoying the party?”

  It was too much trouble to compose a lie and, besides, this was Dane—the one person in the room with whom it was unnecessary to pretend. She sipped her drink and then offered a wry smile. “If I were enjoying the party, do you think I’d be hiding in a dark corner of the terrace?”

  His soft laughter was soothing. “You shouldn’t try to hide anywhere in that dress. I like it very much, but it’s a little conspicuous to blend in with the scenery.” He paused and his gaze slid to her neckline, then traced a lingering path back to her face. “You’re very beautiful, Amanda, even in a dark corner.”