Twyla once more rummaged through her purse for the gold case and extracted a cigarette. She held it firmly between her lips as she searched for the lighter, then lit it and set the lighter on the table beside her. She inhaled deeply and slowly released the smoke into the air. "Gina," she said gratingly, "are you deliberately tormenting me? I want to know why this marriage that you say was made in heaven ended after only four hours."
A short, hollow laugh escaped Gina. "Maybe you're right, my friend. I guess I am deliberately holding back, but you see the part that comes next is so agonizing for me that even now I can hardly bring myself to face it."
She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. "The reception was held at the Van Housen mansion where a huge tent was set up on the spacious grounds and a catered dinner was served. It seemed to go on forever, but finally Peter and I managed to break away and change our clothes. By then most of the guests had left and we were coming down the winding stairway with our families and attendants on our way to the car and freedom at last when the doorbell rang and a man insisted on seeing Peter."
"He turned out to be a special messenger with a large brown manila envelope for Peter. He was very upset, said the envelope was to have been delivered before noon, but he'd been involved in a three-car pileup on one of the bridges and was delayed more than three hours. The messenger stressed that he'd been told the parcel was extremely important, so Peter excused us and led me into the den where we could have some privacy while he examined the contents."
Again Gina twisted uncomfortably in her chair, fighting the memories that threatened to overpower her.
The examination of the contents of the parcel hadn't been the only thing for which Peter wanted privacy. As soon as the door had closed behind them he had taken her in his arms and his mouth had descended on hers, warm and eager and hungry. It was the first time they'd been alone together all day and she'd responded with an eagerness and a hunger that matched his.
For a long moment they were lost in the heat of their all-consuming desire, but then Peter pulled his lips from hers and groaned, "Why did I ever agree to drive all the way to Carmel to start our honeymoon? I don't think I can wait three more hours to make love to you."
His mouth once more found hers and his hands moved to her hips and arched her soft, pliant body into the hardness of his own. She'd shivered with the sensations of pleasure that were building in her, pleasure almost too intense to be borne. Her arms tightened around his neck as she strained to press herself even closer and she forgot everything but her burning need to be one with him.
A sharp rap on the door jolted them out of their steamy preoccupation and Peter muttered an oath as they pulled apart, somewhat disoriented. A voice filled with laughter had shouted, "Hey you two, don't start something it's going to take too long to finish. Everyone's waiting to send you off…"
A hand on Gina's arm and a gentle shake brought her back to the present. "Honey," said Twyla in a worried tone, "if this is going to be too painful—"
Gina breathed deeply and shook her head. "No, I'm all right. Sorry, I was just—just trying to put my thoughts in order," she lied.
"Peter closed the door to the den and locked it," she continued, "then walked over to the desk while I stood back."
"I didn't immediately notice his startled reaction as he removed the contents of the envelope. When I finally became aware of the prolonged silence I looked up to see him standing at the desk in a stiff, unnatural stance with his back to me."
Gina felt hot and knew that her skin had a fine sheen of perspiration, but her hands were cold as she clasped them together in her lap. "The oddest sense of foreboding came over me at that moment and I shivered. Someone walked over my grave, I thought, then giggled nervously at the inappropriateness of the saying that was one of my grandmother's favorite expressions. This was my wedding day, the happiest day of my life."
"I forced myself to smile and started across the room toward Peter, curious about what could be in the slim envelope that was important enough to be sent by special messenger."
Suddenly the effort to sit still was more than Gina could bear and she stood up and began pacing around the room, her hands still clasped in front of her, her voice remaining clear and steady.
"I stood beside him and he turned and looked down at me. What I saw in his face made me gasp and step back, bewildered. The gentle, adoring lover was gone and in his place was a man of ice. His complexion was white, totally drained of color and his blue eyes were lifeless with shock. I—I asked him what was the matter and then my gaze shifted to his hands. The brown envelope had dropped to the desk and he was holding a large shiny piece of black and white paper, a photograph."
Gina stopped her pacing and stood still, trying to control the trembling that had overtaken her. She wondered if she could continue, if she should continue. It was tearing her apart, and for what purpose? Twyla couldn't help, nobody could. Wasn't it better not to delve into the past?
"Gina?" Twyla's soft question reached her and Gina knew she would go on, would finish the story she'd started. Twyla was a caring, compassionate lady and Gina was sure she'd need all the help she could get in the days to come. She had no doubt that what had happened tonight was a beginning, not an ending.
She straightened her shoulders and breathed a silent prayer for strength. "Peter didn't speak or move," she continued, "And those cold dead eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. My mouth felt dry and I ran the tip of my tongue over my lips as I begged him to tell me what was the matter."
"The photograph fluttered to the desk and a look of rage replaced the shock as he turned to fully face me. For a minute I was afraid he'd hit me, but then when he spoke I almost wished he had."
She resumed her pacing. "His voice was low but harsh, raspy, almost painful as he said, 'So my parents and Veronica were right, all you wanted from me was money and prestige. You lying, cheating little—!' The name he called me was gross, shocking, and I gasped as his powerful hands clamped my shoulders in a crushing grip. I can still hear him say, 'I could kill you, right here, this instant, with my bare hands'!"
"He shook me until I was sure my neck would snap and I screamed with terror. The noise seemed to jar him into a semblance of reality and he released me so quickly that I lost my balance and fell to the floor. I lay there stunned, trembling with fear, as he strode across the room and unlocked the door, then disappeared down the hall."
Gina shivered and pulled her robe closer around her as she wondered why she seemed to be cold one minute and too warm the next. She hugged her arms across her chest as she continued to roam around the room.
"After that," she said, "everything seemed to be happening at once. My parents were bending over me, helping me to my feet, demanding to know what happened, while the rest of the wedding party apparently followed after Peter."
"I couldn't explain what happened because I didn't know, and it was several minutes before I remembered the photograph. The picture! It had to be something in the picture that turned Peter into a madman!"
"It lay where it had fallen on the desk and I picked it up and looked at it, then blinked and looked again. It was an eight-by-ten glossy black and white portrait of Mel Calicutt and me. It was cropped at my waist and Mel's chest and arms were bare, and the only garment I was wearing was an unfastened black bra with straps that were sliding off my shoulders. We were in what appeared to be a passionately erotic embrace!"
Chapter Three
Gina stood in front of the wide window and parted the sheer draperies slightly so she could look out. She'd never been this high up in a building before, and even in the darkness the view was astounding. To the south were lights extending all the way down the peninsula, but to the west the illumination blended into darkness as it mingled with the vastness of the ocean.
From behind her Twyla's husky voice broke the silence. "Well, was it?"
"Was it what?" Gina asked without turning.
"Was it a passionate embrac
e someone caught you in with Mel Calicutt, or was the picture faked?"
Gina leaned her forehead against the cool glass. "It was neither, and don't ever let anyone tell you that photos don't lie. At first I was stunned. There had never been anything sexual between Mel and me. We'd had a friendly easy relationship and shared a few goodnight kisses but that was all. I hadn't gone out with him since I'd met Peter."
She straightened then and turned to look at Twyla. "It was several minutes before I finally remembered when that picture must have been taken. Mel and I were in the same photography class, that's where we met. One day about a week before the wedding our teacher announced that he had made arrangements for us to go by bus to an estate in Marin County where we would be allowed to photograph the inside of the fabulous home. He told us to bring our bathing suits because we would be allowed to swim in the indoor pool. It was January and none of us had been to the beach in months so we were all delighted with the extra bonus."
Gina walked over and sat back down in the chair beside Twyla. "It was a fabulous day. Some of the art treasures in that home were priceless and Mel and I paired off and worked together photographing them. About mid-afternoon we were given permission to swim, and I changed into the new black bikini I'd bought for my trousseau. It was really quite modest for a bikini, the top was a bra style with straps and the bottom was a slip-on pantie that pulled up nearly to my waist. Mel appeared in brief trunks, and after we'd been in the pool for a while he suggested we have a glass of the punch that was being served."
She frowned as she continued. "I remember now that he led me around behind a huge tropical plant that seemed to be growing right out of the tiles and we sat on our towels on the floor. Mel began acting strange, telling me how desirable I looked, touching my hand, running his fingers up my arm. I didn't want to make a scene so I tried to ignore it, but suddenly he grabbed me and kissed me, passionately. I was so surprised that for a moment I just leaned against him as his hands roamed, but I quickly came to my senses and started to fight. He wouldn't let me go. Then, as suddenly as it started it was over. He released me and apologized, but I didn't appreciate being mauled and told him so. I got dressed and didn't speak to him again. If he came to the wedding I didn't see him. When I saw the picture I realized someone must have photographed us in that impromptu embrace. My bikini top had gotten disheveled during the scuffle and the look on my face which was really surprise photographed as wanton passion."
Twyla's voice was questioning as she spoke. "But surely you could have explained that to Peter."
Gina shrugged. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? Unfortunately there was also a note enclosed with the picture. It was typewritten and unsigned and said, 'Thought you should know what your sweet, virginal bride-to-be is doing when you're not around'."
"That's rotten!" exploded Twyla.
Gina didn't comment, but once more picked up her story. "I didn't see Peter again for two days when my dad and some of his army buddies finally found him passed out in a sleazy bar. When we got him sobered up I tried to explain about the incident leading up to the taking of the picture. He wasn't having any of it. He kept insisting that his parents and Veronica were right all along, that I saw a chance to marry into wealth and social position and took advantage of his strong physical attraction for me to maneuver him into proposing by playing the pure virgin who couldn't let him make love to me until we were married."
Unable to sit still Gina stood and poured herself another cup of coffee, then left it sitting on the tray, forgotten. "I was so incredibly naive and stupid in those days. I knew that Peter was well aware that there were always people anxious to take advantage of the very wealthy. He'd told me once that both of his brothers had unhappy love affairs with women who were only after their money and social position before they finally married women who were as wealthy as they, but I still didn't see the trap. I was so sure that if he would just go with me to talk to Mel everything would be all right. That Mel would back up my story and Peter would know that I was innocent as I'd told him I was."
"It didn't turn out that way, I gather?" muttered Twyla.
"You'd better believe it didn't!" Gina's voice was filled with self-derision. "I walked right into it, just the way I was set up to. Peter finally agreed to talk to Mel, and I called and made arrangements to meet him at his apartment."
"We showed him the picture and the note. He looked at them, then at me, and I can quote his exact words. He said, 'Sorry, sweetheart, I had no idea we were being observed on that secluded stretch of beach. We should have been more careful, but surely Peter knows we've been—uh—going together'."
Twyla sat straight and gripped the arms of her chair. "That bastard!" she hissed.
"Agreed," said Gina. "Peter hit him and knocked him across the room, then tore up the picture and slammed out of the apartment without even a glance at me. I never saw him again until tonight."
"Tonight!" Twyla exclaimed. "You saw Peter Van Housen tonight?"
Gina looked at her, puzzled. "Of course, you were there, you saw the state of collapse I was in…"
She stopped as she realized that in all the confusion Twyla probably hadn't been introduced to Peter.
"You mean," Twyla demanded, "that the man who was holding you as though he'd never let you go was your ex-husband? I've met Peter Van Housen a time or two, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying any attention to him tonight. I was too concerned about you."
Gina caught her breath and hissed, "Don't be such a romantic, Twyla. He wasn't holding me, he was merely propping me up so I wouldn't faint at his feet."
"That's not the way it looked to me, or to Stewart either." Her eyes narrowed. "Does Stewart know you were married to Peter Van Housen?"
Gina shook her head. "No. He thinks like you did that I had an unhappy teenage love affair. I didn't see any point in mentioning a marriage that was never in fact a marriage at all."
"Did you know that Stewart and Peter were acquainted?"
"Good heavens no!" sputtered Gina. "I'd never have come here today if I had. Not that it really matters. I understand that after the annulment Peter married Veronica and they spend most of their time in Europe ferreting out art treasures for the gallery."
"Where did you hear that?" Twyla asked doubtfully.
Gina shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, as if even now remembering that small bit of gossip wasn't like twisting the knife in an already mortal wound. "I overheard a couple of artists discussing the Van Housen gallery shortly after I came back to the West Coast three years ago and they happened to mention it."
"Did you ever find out why Mel did such a monstrous thing?" Twyla asked.
"Oh yes," Gina answered. "After Peter stomped out I was wildly hysterical. I screamed, threw things, and beat at Mel with my fists. When he finally got me calmed down he readily admitted what he'd done. He said that Veronica Miller, the woman who had thought she was going to marry Peter, had found out about Mel's heavy gambling debts and offered to pay them if he would arrange to have an incriminating picture made of the two of us. She arranged the picture-taking session for the class at her uncle's estate and supplied the hidden photographer. All Mel had to do was make love to me for a few minutes and then develop the film and arrange for a messenger to deliver it and the note to Peter just before the wedding. Unfortunately for Veronica the messenger was delayed, but she accomplished her purpose. A few days later Peter's lawyer came to me with papers to sign agreeing to an annulment."
Gina slumped down on the side of her bed and fought the sobs she felt rising in her throat. Her voice shook as she continued. "Mel's last words to me were, 'I didn't want to hurt you, baby, but I was in to those guys for several thou' and they don't take credit cards.' He left town a few days later, and I finally faced the grim reality. If Peter had so little faith in my goodness and honesty then the marriage wouldn't have lasted anyway. It was better that it had never begun."
The sobs could no longer be held back, and she dropped her head in her hands and l
et the tears, that had been pressing behind her eyes, flow. With a strangled sound Twyla jumped up and knelt before her. She wrapped her arms around Gina's convulsive form and murmured comforting endearments as she rocked her back and forth. "Gina, honey," she soothed, "do you still love Peter so much?"
Gina's voice was wracked with sobs as she wailed, "You—you don't understand. My—my love for him di—died years ago. I—I hate him and I hope I—I never see him again as—as long as I live."
"Sure you do," Twyla murmured in a tone of disbelief.
Monday morning dawned bright and warm in the renowned artist colony of Mendocino, California, with just a wisp of a breeze from the ocean to keep the July sun from becoming too hot. Gina pulled on her white jeans, tugged a red- and white-striped blouse over her head and pulled it down to just below her tiny waist. It had a nautical collar at the back and red laces that crisscrossed the six-inch slit at the neckline in front. She found her red espadrilles and slipped her feet into them as she fought back conflicting feelings of anticipation and dread.
Peter was coming. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but he would come. She knew it in her bones, and in her flesh, and in the soft beat of her heart. She wasn't looking forward to it; if there was any way she could avoid him she would, but this meeting was inevitable. She knew new that it had to take place before she could truly relate to any other man, before she could give herself wholeheartedly to Stewart Tobias.
Saturday had been a nightmare and Twyla, bless her, had at last tucked Gina into bed and given her a liberal dose of a tranquilizer that caused her to sleep deeply. She was wakened on Sunday morning by a concerned Stewart, and it hadn't been difficult to convince him they should start home for Mendocino immediately. They'd lost no time in checking out of the luxurious high-rise hotel and making their way across the Golden Gate Bridge then north to Highway 1, the narrow, winding road that hugs the ruggedly beautiful northern California coastline.
If Ever I Loved You Page 3