by Mary Birk
Darryl smiled at him. “Sounds great, thanks, Lance. Bring the glasses over. I’ll pour. I think Miranda could use a drink. Rodney, want one?”
“Already have one.” Rodney picked something long and black off the floor and handed it to Miranda. “These look like they’re yours, dear sister.” He leaned down again, picked up something smaller. “And these too. I know it’s warm in here, but you can’t take all your clothes off, you know.”
Miranda grabbed the leggings and knickers without looking at Rodney, held them against her chest.
Darryl poured her a whiskey. “Drink up.”
She took the glass, stared into it.
“I said drink. You don’t want to make me have to tell you again, do you?” Lance almost shivered at the quiet threat in Darryl’s voice, glad it wasn’t directed at him.
Miranda shook her head and drank.
Turning to Lance, Darryl flipped a thumbs up that just the two of them could see. Lance smiled. Darryl had Miranda under control.
Chapter 36
AVOIDING THE REST of the house party, Reid went up to his room. He tried knocking on the door to Anne’s room again, saying her name. He knew she was in there, but his knock went unanswered. He pulled out the book he’d brought along and tried to read. Unable to concentrate, he gave up and turned off the light. He lay there, but sleep too, was beyond him. Every once in a while, he’d hear a little noise from the room next door, the baby’s whimper, a crooning voice, then it would be quiet again.
Grainger had been at Michael’s birth, and he’d been present in Anne’s life all the while Reid had made himself stay away. What had she said? He’d gone to her doctor appointments with her, taken her out, and he’d painted her. An urgent need seized Reid. He had to see that painting. He’d seen Grainger’s paintings of Marisol, his late wife, and of other women. Many had been nudes or semi-nudes. Anne had been pregnant, though. Would Grainger have painted a pregnant woman like that?
He flipped on the light switch, went to the closet, and took his laptop out of his bag. He waited for it to boot up, then got online. It didn’t take long to find it on a list of Grainger’s recent works. The painting didn’t have Anne’s name in the title, but he knew before he clicked on it that it had to be the painting Grainger had done of her.
It was entitled, “Madonna in Waiting.” He clicked on the availability and price and saw the entry: Not for Sale.
In the painting, Anne’s hair had been quickly, carelessly, swept up, with long tendrils falling around her neck. From each of her earlobes fell a gold wire to which a large freshwater pearl was attached. Her delicate neck curved down to her shoulders, and led his eye to where only a suggestion of cleavage showed from the bodice of a shimmery bronze dress of crushed silk. The folds of the dress softly molded to the curves of her body where the baby was making her swell. Her face looked serene, but also a little sad. Her wedding ring was on her finger.
He put his finger on the screen, touching her face. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then turned off his computer and got dressed. When knocking on her door still didn’t elicit an invitation to come in, he considered getting a key and going in anyway, making her talk to him. But that would likely make things worse. No, he’d talk to her tomorrow morning. He’d take her aside and make her talk to him.
Unfortunately, that didn’t solve his problem with getting to sleep tonight. As it was late, he thought he would be safe in venturing downstairs to the library and not risk running into anyone else. Someone had left the light on. Reid crossed over to the drinks table and poured himself some cognac from a crystal decanter. As he turned to leave, he realized he wasn’t alone.
George Greene sat on the leather couch, reading a book. “Can’t sleep?”
Reid shook his head. “You either?”
“Not yet. How’s the baby tonight? No cough?”
“I don’t think so.” Reid shrugged, deciding there was no reason to pretend to know more than he did. “Actually, I’m in the room next door, not with him and his mother. I’ve been listening for it through the door, though, and haven’t heard anything. So I think he’s all right.”
“Hard to be on the other side of that door, I’ll wager.”
Reid nodded, took a drink. “I expect you know that.”
“All too well. Never gets much easier. At least it hasn’t for me.”
“Looks to me like you made it work. You and Flora seem to get along well.”
“I’ve done what I could to live with the mess I let happen. I regret every day I didn’t fight Flora’s request for a divorce.”
“But you remarried.”
The other man grimaced. “Don’t remind me. Twice. And twice more divorced. For me, there has always been only one woman.”
Would it be like that for Anne and him? Would he never stop caring about her? Especially now they shared a child? He wondered if he would ever feel dispassionate about Anne, and how it would feel if he did. Right now, he felt like the skin had been ripped off of his heart, leaving it raw and exposed.
“At the risk of incurring my own daughter’s wrath and having you tell me to mind my own business, I’d advise you to think carefully about what you might be giving up. Not just your wife, but being with her to raise your child. You miss so much when you are only with a child part of the time. And in your absence, there may well be another man helping raise your child—as well as loving your wife. You could have your own Rafe Kensington.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than it seems.”
“I’m sure it is. None of my business, anyway.” He smiled, his face a little sad. “Though some of it is.”
Reid tried not to sound rude. “In what way would it be your business?”
“Miranda is my business. If you don’t have feelings for her, I’d appreciate it if you could make that clear to her.”
Reid furrowed his brow, trying to understand. “I believe I have been clear on that point. There’s been nothing between us in that way for years.”
“I don’t think that’s clear to her. I’m fairly certain she has hopes of more. And seeing your child—Terrence—you understand what that must be like for her.”
“No, I don’t understand. I’ve told her I have no intentions other than being her friend.”
George waved his hand dismissively. “Forget I said anything. I think the late hour and the cognac are probably making me talk a little too much.”
“No worries. It is late. I’ll just take my cognac up to my room. Good night, George.”
“Good night, Terrence.”
Reid walked slowly back upstairs to his bedroom. He put the snifter down by the bed and went to the closet. He took his briefcase out, unlatched it, and extracted the stacks of unopened letters he had bound in rubber bands to sanctimoniously give back to Anne. He sat on the bed and laid the letters out in date order.
He swallowed a large mouthful of cognac, burning his throat. Then he began to open and read each letter in turn. She’d handwritten each one on her personal stationary, light blue with no markings except her address on the envelope. The last letter had been sent the day before Michael was born. He took his time, reading every word, carefully examining the photos she’d enclosed.
After he finished, Reid went to the door separating their rooms and softly knocked. He called her name in a low voice and knocked again. No sounds came from the room, so she and Michael were undoubtedly asleep. He would try to sleep as well, and go to her first thing in the morning.
DECEMBER 26 - SATURDAY
Chapter 37
GRETA BROUGHT in Reid’s tea. The sound of the stout woman crossing the room with a tray of dishes woke him up. What time was it? He checked his mobile phone. Seven already? Damn, he’d meant to be up by now so he could talk to Anne first thing. He listened for a moment and was relieved that it seemed quiet next door. Maybe they were still asleep.
“Thank you, Greta.”
When she just stood there, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
/>
“Mr. Stone is here to see you and Lady Anne.”
He shook his head, thought. “He’s supposed to be here Monday. Not today.”
Greta didn’t seem to be able to think of a response.
He sighed. “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes. Give him some tea, and see if he wants breakfast. Don’t wake Lady Anne.” Then he thought quickly. “Leave taking her tray in until last.” The noise might wake her up, and he needed to get rid of Stone before she knew he was here.
“My lord, Lady Anne is already downstairs with him. She’s taken him to the library and has tea coming in.”
What was going on? Why had that bloody man come so early? And on the Saturday after Christmas? Reid distinctly remembered setting up the appointment for Monday.
He threw on his clothes and hurled himself downstairs, almost knocking Greta down as he passed her in the hallway. He pushed the library door open and saw Anne sitting at the small table with Jeremy Stone, pouring tea. She looked up when he came in.
“Good morning, Terrence. Would you like some tea?”
He looked at her, assessing. She looked totally serene and prepared. He’d been right. The man’s coming early hadn’t surprised her. She was carefully dressed in a soft black angora dress and black heels. Her hair was neatly coiffed on top of her hair, and she had taken time with her make-up. She wore neither his ring nor Grainger’s.
“Anne, what’s going on?”
Her voice was measured, and she spoke unemotionally. “I’ve decided to leave early. I’m going home to California.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m doing what you asked. I’ve borrowed money from Meg for my part of the legal fees, and I’ve given Jeremy the check. He wasn’t sure how much it’ll end up costing, but if I owe more, just let me know.” Her demeanor was calm and impersonal as it had been yesterday at Christmas dinner, but her face was drawn.
“Anne . . .”
“Jeremy tells me he had the paperwork drawn up with the assistance of some lawyers in the States, so they’ll be able to make certain the civil annulment is valid there. He’s filled out all the Church paperwork too, so I won’t have to meet with the Monsignor myself to complete things for the religious annulment. Luckily, Jeremy already had all the information to put in the documents about why the marriage should be annulled.”
Reid winced. He’d detailed his grievances against Anne to the solicitor when he was at his angriest.
“Did you want tea or not?” Without waiting for him to respond, she filled a cup and handed it to him. Her hands were shaking. Closer to her now, he could see her make-up had been a valiant attempt to hide a brutal redness around her eyes. He took the cup automatically while trying desperately to think what to do.
She sat back and picked up her own cup. “He showed me the financial settlement you proposed. I told him, as I’ve told you, I don’t want anything. He’s advised me I should get legal counsel before making that decision. Apparently, he thinks I don’t realize how much money you have, or what I’m giving up. I told him I don’t need legal counsel. I know, or at least I have some idea of, your financial situation, and I don’t want any of your money.”
Stone said, “I told Lady Anne we couldn’t actually start the Church annulment process until the civil marriage is dissolved, and that the whole process could take about two years. She was just saying she would be agreeable to living in Scotland for a time so you can have frequent contact with the child.”
“I thought that way you’ll be able to see Michael more easily, at least for now, while he’s so young and can’t travel as well. Later, it will be easier.” She sipped her tea. “We wouldn’t have to actually live in Glasgow, if you think that would be too difficult. We could find another town more convenient for you nearby. He’ll only be this age once, and I don’t want either of you to miss this time together.” Her voice was matter-of-fact and businesslike.
“We? You mean you and Grainger?”
She nodded. “We’ll marry when the civil annulment goes through, and then in the Church when the religious one comes through. He can paint anywhere. I’ll try to get work here. If I can’t, I’ll just take courses or something. I think it’s important Michael sees you often.”
Reid put down the cup he’d been holding mindlessly since she’d handed it to him. “Jeremy, leave us alone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave. Please. Right now.”
The solicitor got up. “I’ll go get some breakfast.”
Chapter 38
REID KEPT HIS GAZE on Anne, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed trained on the papers in front of her.
After the door shut, he moved a chair over near her. He sat down and took her hands in his. She shook her head and looked away, but he held her hands tightly.
“You can’t do this.”
“What are you talking about, Terrence? This was your idea. I just moved it up a couple of days.”
“I don’t blame you if you hate me right now, but can you give me another chance?” He let her hands go and took her face into his hands. “Please don’t leave, and for God’s sake, don’t marry Grainger.” He searched her face for a reaction, but she turned her head away from him. “Please, lassie. You don’t have to forgive me today. Just say that in twenty years, you’ll consider it.”
Her face started to crumple, and she began to cry.
He folded her into his arms. “You won’t go, will you? I love you, my darling girl. I was just angry and hurt.”
She pushed him away. “I carried that child for months without so much as a word from you. Not a letter, not a call, not a card, nothing but those stupid checks. When you came to see Michael, you saw me for thirty seconds, and that only because Meg practically forced you. But I still came out here, stupidly hoping because you didn’t tell me to ignore your mother’s invitation, you wanted for us to be together again. Then I get here and you humiliate me and say you want to annul our marriage. You’ve been so hateful.” She pushed back some pieces of hair that had come loose from her chignon. “I must have looked pathetic showing up here with my family. I’m so embarrassed I could die.”
“I know I’ve behaved abominably.”
She put her head in her hands. “I thought better of you than this. I don’t know why, but I did.”
“I’m glad you did. I’m sorry I’ve been such a shite.”
She held out the papers, her body shaking with her crying. “And the things you put in here about me. What if Michael ever sees these papers? I’m so, so mad at you. Really, really mad at you.”
“I’m getting that. I’ll make sure the papers are destroyed. He’ll never see them. I thought you were with Grainger again. It was killing me. It made me crazy.”
“You could have asked me about it. I’ve never lied to you.” She went on, a torrent of words pouring out. “This hasn’t been a picnic for me, either. It’s not like I got pregnant when I was having an affair behind your back. I was with Andrew only because you’d told me our marriage was over—and we’d been separated a long time by then. You slept with me knowing I’d been with him—and you certainly didn’t use anything to make sure I didn’t get pregnant. In fact, you never have—not with me, anyway.”
He felt himself color with the truth of her statements. He’d wanted to be with her completely and had wanted her to have his children. From the time they’d decided to marry, he’d told her if she didn’t want children yet, that was her decision, but he did want them and wouldn’t do anything himself to stop that from happening.
She tried to compose her face. “I need a tissue.”
He handed her his handkerchief.
She took it and dried carefully around her eyes and nose. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Liar.” She scrutinized his face as she blew her nose. “You don’t look so good either. I thought you Scotsmen were supposed to be so sto
ic.”
“I did that already. It wasn’t working too well. I’m going with groveling right now. It comes highly recommended.”
She sniffled. “You’ve been horrible.”
“I know I have. I’m sorry.”
She was silent.
“So, can we talk?”
“What is there for us to talk about? You made up your mind about everything up to now without ever talking to me. Why should we talk now?”
“I don’t want to lose you. Can we just talk before you do anything?”
“We’ve talked. You told me what you think of me. Several times. What else do we have to talk about?”
“So many things. Us, our baby, our lives.”
She looked at him, her eyes wary. “Okay, talk.”
He braced himself for what he had to ask next. “So, my love, about Grainger. Have you talked to him about this?” Then he remembered she had been on the computer. “Or emailed him?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I was going to call him this morning after I signed the papers.”
“He’s expecting your call?”
“I think so. He was worried for me; he said I was making a mistake coming here. But I was so sure you’d want me with you. That you wouldn’t have let me come if you didn’t.” She drew in a breath. “I guess he knew better than I did how you felt about me.”
“I couldn’t bear to think of you and him together, but that was all I could think about.” He took her hands again. “Can you please forgive me?”
She shook her head, drawing her hands away from his. “If you’d bothered to read my letters, you’d have known I was waiting for you. I’d reconciled myself to losing you if the baby wasn’t yours. But even after you knew he was yours, you still wanted an annulment.” She started to cry again. “I was so lonely for you.”