The Bride of Willow Creek

by Maggie Osborne

Angie looked into those large gray eyes. “Oh yes. You’ll dance and dance and dance.”

  “I love you, Angie.”

  “I love you, too!” She held Daisy close to her heart until Sam gently tapped her on the shoulder, then she stepped back and watched the nurses take Daisy away. When Daisy was out of sight, she turned blindly into Sam’s arms and burst into tears. “She looks so tiny!”

  “I’m afraid!” Lucy said, clinging to them.

  It was the longest three hours in Angie’s life, and she knew Sam felt the same. Perhaps the Govenors did, too. Sam and Herb Govenor smoked cigars and paced and occasionally exchanged a wary word. Winnie and Angie played card games with Lucy or read aloud from a newspaper someone had left in the waiting room.

  At some point Winnie and Angie found themselves alone outside the waiting room door. “The custody question is decided,” Winnie began. “And we’re grateful that Mr. Holland invited us to be present today.”

  “But?” Angie inquired wearily.

  “No buts. We’re hoping today is an indication of improved relations between us and you and Mr. Holland.” She drew herself up and spoke in a rush. “We’d like to keep Lucy with us for a week or two. Now hear me out. You and Mr. Holland will be spending a lot of time at the hospital, but this doesn’t seem a positive place for a healthy little girl. We could keep her with us, entertain her, and bring her to the hospital to visit Daisy every few days. This would allow you and Mr. Holland to focus exclusively on Daisy.”

  Angie was too tired and too worried about what was happening in the operating theater to explain that she would be leaving soon. Instead, she merely nodded.

  “I don’t know if Sam will agree to an extended visit. On the other hand, he has a long list of things to do, and it might be helpful to know that he doesn’t have to worry about Lucy. I’ll speak to him.”

  Winnie pressed her hands in gratitude. “Thank you. I know that you and I got off to a bad beginning, but—”

  A humble Winnie Govenor was more than Angie could cope with at the moment. She patted Winnie’s hands and stepped back. “I believe the nurse said we could get some coffee downstairs. Shall we?”

  She decided she had aged ten years during the last endless hours.

  “She looks dead,” Lucy whispered fearfully.

  “No, honey, she’s just sleeping.” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the cast. The contraption seemed enormous. But it was also straight. Once again, he uttered a silent prayer of gratitude. His daughter would walk tall and gracefully. He dropped a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Are you sure you want to spend a couple of weeks with your grandparents? You don’t have to.”

  “Grandpa said he’d take me to the horse races, and Gramma is going to teach me how to play croquet.” Lucy brightened somewhat. “I can have all the ice cream I want.”

  Slowly Sam nodded. He didn’t like the Govenors; he never would. But he felt Laura close to him today in a way he never had before, and if it hadn’t sounded foolish, he would have said that he sensed Laura was happy in a way he had never known her to be. He nodded again and sighed. The Govenors, damn them, were going to be part of his life. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be.

  I kept my promise, he said silently, speaking to Laura. The doctor says he doesn’t think another operation will be necessary. When the braces come off, no one will ever guess that she didn’t always stand tall. I wish you were here, sweet Laura. This would have been the happiest day of your life.

  If he were a fanciful man, he would have acknowledged a small sudden warmth on his cheek and an impression that a tiny breeze pushed him gently toward Angie.

  Instead he looked at the woman sitting beside the bed, holding Daisy’s hand while tears slipped silently down her face. He couldn’t have said who was more beautiful. His angel daughter, sleeping with golden hair spread on the pillow like a halo, or his wife, her face wet with joy and love.

  When a stern-faced nurse appeared to shoo them away, he placed his arm around Angie and led her outside, where the Govenors waited. For a long moment he and Herb Govenor stared at each other, then Sam kissed the top of Lucy’s head and released her.

  Govenor tapped his hat into place, scowled, then thrust out his hand. “I say let bygones be bygones.”

  “Let’s take it one step at a time,” Sam said, shaking Govenor’s hand with reluctance. Frowning, he watched Winnie lead Lucy toward the Govenors’ private brougham. With a crest painted on the door, no less. Making a face, he turned to Angie.

  And it suddenly struck him. They would be alone in the hotel room tonight. And for the rest of the week.

  “Sam?” She watched the brougham ease into the street traffic. “I can’t stand this. If I’m going to leave, I want to leave tomorrow.” Anguish tightened her expression. “I know it’s cowardly, but I can’t bear saying good-bye to Daisy and Lucy.” Raising a glove, she dashed a tear from her cheek. “I can’t stand to even think about it.”

  He wrenched his mind from the hotel room to a good-bye scene between Angie and his daughters, and winced. Lucy and Daisy had come a long way from disliking Angie and wanting her to leave. They loved her. They wouldn’t understand how long she had already waited for her life to begin, or about that bastard De Groot, or that Angie wanted to be with another man. They wouldn’t understand that Sam wasn’t successful or that the only thing he could offer was himself. Himself hadn’t been enough ten years ago. Why would it be enough now?

  “I’ll tell them good-bye for you,” he said in a voice that sounded oddly hoarse. “I’ll buy your train ticket and wire you the rest of your money.”

  Pressing her gloves to her eyes, she nodded. “Thank you.”

  Taking her arm, he walked to the cabstand and handed her into one of the hansoms. When he didn’t enter behind her, she raised an eyebrow. “Sam?”

  “I’m going to the nearest saloon, and I am going to get very, very drunk. I’ll fetch you in the morning and take you to the train depot.”

  “Is this what you want?” she whispered.

  To spend the night in a noisy, smoke-filled saloon? No, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be locked in her arms, kissing her until they were both dizzy and wild with desire, kissing her until it felt as if he would explode or die if he didn’t love her with his body as hard as he loved her with his heart. He wanted to sleep with her in his arms, wanted to wake at dawn with the scent of her skin and hair beneath his nose. That’s what he wanted.

  “I think the first train leaves at noon. I’ll pick you up at the hotel about ten-thirty.”

  After closing the door of the cab, he nodded to the driver and watched everything that mattered to him roll away.

  Angie spent the night curled in a corner of the sitting room sofa, crying and watching the hotel room door. If she willed it hard enough, Sam would come. He would burst through the door and tell her that he loved her and tell her not to go, that he and Daisy and Lucy needed her.

  At two in the morning, she conceded that he wasn’t coming, and she moved to the chair beside the window. The rest of her life stretched before her like an endless road she didn’t want to travel. There was no place she wanted to go. No one she wanted to see.

  Chicago was no longer home, but it was the only place she could think of to go. She had friends there. And Peter was a gentleman; he wouldn’t make things awkward for her. Perhaps they could still be friends. Bowing her head, she covered her face in her hands.

  She loved Sam so much that it hurt her. Ten years ago her love had been romantic and idealistic. Now she loved with the intensity of maturity. She had seen Sam angry and disheartened and tired and cranky, and she had packed his lunch and washed his underwear and cleaned his house. And she still loved him.

  She had stumbled around a ballroom in his arms, laughed helplessly on his shoulder, watched him run into a burning building, had seen the wetness in his eyes as he spoke to his daughter’s doctor. And she loved him.

  She had stroked his body and knew the firm, smooth te
xture of his skin. She had looked into his eyes as he led her into the mysteries between man and woman. She had felt his naked heart beating next to hers and had wept with joy. And she loved him.

  Angie wrapped her arms around her waist and bent over. She felt as if she were dying.

  “I went by the hospital,” Sam said in the hansom cab. “They said Daisy had a bad night, but she was sleeping while I was there.”

  “I went to the hospital, too. I must have just missed you.”

  Faint purplish half-circles lay under her eyes, and her skin seemed tight on her cheekbones, as if she hadn’t slept. A strand of dark hair had worked loose from the coil on her neck and curled on her shoulder. God knew what she thought about his appearance.

  At 9:00 a.m. a saloonkeeper had awakened Sam from about an hour’s sleep half-sprawled across a felt poker table. Breakfast had done little to quell the queasiness in his stomach and had done nothing for the headache pounding behind his forehead. He’d found a barbershop and paid for a shave and a haircut, but he looked only marginally better when he left the shop than when he’d arrived. His jacket and trousers were wrinkled and smelled of smoke and whiskey, his eyes were bloodshot, and his mood was foul.

  “It’s a nice day,” Angie said, speaking into an uncomfortable silence. She kept her face turned to the window.

  “Not too hot. Not too cool.” Is that all they had to talk about? The weather? “Why do you keep pushing at your skirt?”

  She gave him a quick glance, then looked down at her lap. “I’m concerned that it’s a bit short and my stockings show.”

  Sure enough, he could see the tops of her little boots and a half inch of white stocking. The sight infuriated him. Angie had arrived with enough luggage and clothing to stock a small shop. After six months with Sam Holland she was leaving wearing ill-fitting, donated clothing and carrying one small valise. Disgust closed his throat. If he’d needed further evidence that she could do a lot better than him, all he had to do was look at that half inch of stocking.

  The drive to the depot seemed endless. He pulled a hand down his jaw. “I’m sorry I was late.”

  Angie picked at her gloves, looking anywhere except at him. “I feel like I should say something about these months with you and your daughters. About . . .” She turned bright red then waved a hand. “No, never mind. Not that. But the rest . . .”

  He thought he should say something, too, but nothing he wanted to say was appropriate.

  “There’s one thing. . . .” She drew a breath and met his eyes. “I’m not mad at you and I haven’t been for a long time. What happened ten years ago was as much my fault as yours, more my fault.”

  “That’s not true, Angie. I’m entirely to blame. I should never have let you leave the room. And if I’d stuck up for what I wanted . . .” He shook his head. “Hell, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I understand about Laura, and I understand why you did what you did. And I’m glad, Sam, that you have the girls. They’re wonderful.”

  He saw now why she couldn’t bear to say good-bye to Lucy and Daisy. What she was saying and the finality in her voice tightened a vice around his heart. He couldn’t stand this, and thanked God when the carriage finally stopped amid the bustle and turmoil swirling in front of the depot.

  After handing her out, he paid the driver, then picked up her valise. But she didn’t take his arm.

  “You don’t have to see me on board or wait until the train leaves.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. His stomach hurt, his head throbbed, he felt hollow inside, and he was mad at the world. “Your train leaves in twenty minutes. I think I can spare twenty minutes to be a gentleman.”

  “Well, don’t put yourself out on my account,” she said sharply, sounding as annoyed as he was. Picking up her too-short skirt, she marched off in front of him, pushing through the crowd in that fizzy way she had, leaving him to follow.

  When they reached the platform, the conductor took Angie’s ticket, then smiled and tipped his cap. “There’s still a few minutes before the last boarding call.”

  “I’d prefer to board now,” Angie said stiffly.

  If that was how she wanted it, all right. Saying good-bye now was better than standing around with nothing to say for five more miserable minutes.

  She turned and narrowed her eyes. “Do you want your wedding ring back?”

  “What?”

  “I’m uncertain about the protocol, but I think the man is entitled to the return of his ring.”

  “For God’s sake, Angie.” He stared at her. “No. I don’t want the ring back. Sell it. Throw it in Lake Michigan. I don’t care. Just don’t tell me what you did with it.”

  “Well, then.” She swallowed and thrust out her hand. “Good-bye, Sam. I wish you a happy, healthy, prosperous future.”

  He shook her hand. “I hope you find the life you’ve been waiting for. I hope De Groot makes you happy.”

  A thin smile missed her eyes by a mile. “Peter telephoned that day to ask if I was certain that I wouldn’t marry him. I told him I was certain.”

  His hand tightened around hers and he couldn’t breathe. Then he realized nothing had changed. If it wasn’t De Groot, it would be someone else. A woman as fine as Angie wouldn’t lack for prosperous suitors.

  Angie jumped and Sam twitched when the train whistle blasted and a hiss of steam drifted past them.

  Angie took a hankie from her silly little bag and dabbed her eyes. “The steam,” she explained, sniffing. “I . . . tell the girls I love them!” Turning, she bolted toward the conductor and let him assist her up the steps and into the train.

  Sam handed Angie’s valise to the conductor, then, feeling dead inside, he moved to the back of the platform and leaned against the wall of the depot.

  That was it, then. His life had just become pointless. Expressionless, he watched the last-minute hustle and bustle, heard the clash of metal, peered through billowing clouds of hot steam.

  Angie deliberately chose a seat on the track side of the train so she wouldn’t be tempted to look out the window and see if Sam waited to watch her leave as he’d said he would. Besides which, she didn’t want him to see the tears flooding her cheeks.

  Damn him, and damn his pride. He had held her in his arms and made love to her. Surely he cared for her at least a little. How could he let her go? Again. How could he do that? How could he hurt her like this again?

  Oh, but wait a minute. Her head jerked up and she lowered her handkerchief. She was doing the same thing. Going to her room. In Chicago. Instead of standing beside her husband as she’d vowed to do, she was walking away. Again.

  Sam watched the cars roll by, desperately seeking a glimpse of her face at the windows. The calendar might as well have flipped backward ten years. That was the last time he had hurt this badly.

  Abruptly he straightened. Son of a bitch. Damned if he hadn’t done it again. He’d let her go without trying to stop her. He had decided she didn’t want him, had decided for her that she didn’t want what he could offer. Once again, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask what she wanted.

  He hadn’t stood up for himself. Yet again.

  He had to go after her, had to stop this. No, he couldn’t do that, not until Daisy was coherent enough that he could explain he had to go to Chicago. No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t leave Daisy alone in the hospital. Damn it, damn it.

  Frantic, he watched the caboose flash by and wondered crazily if he could run fast enough to catch it and swing on board.

  Then a movement caught his eye and he saw her. Standing on the other side of the tracks, showing a half inch of white stocking and wearing that angry, fizzy look that he loved. He thought his knees would buckle when he jumped off the platform and ran toward her.

  She met him in the middle of the tracks and jabbed him in the chest with a hard finger. “I am so mad at you that I could just spit! Daisy needs me. She’s going to have a hard time managing that cast. And who is going to tak
e care of Lucy when she comes home?” She jabbed him in the chest again. “And you need me! If you’re going to start a new business in Denver, you’ll want someone to set up your books and handle the money. You need help choosing a house because men don’t know anything about picking out a house.” Leaning forward from the waist, she narrowed snapping black eyes that fizzed and threw off sparks. “This is no time for a divorce, not when my daughters need me. We’ll talk about the divorce after Daisy is well and when the girls are settled after the move to Denver.”

  “Oh God, I love you! And I do need you. I love you, I love you, I love you!” Wild with joy, he picked her up and swung her around, giving any lingerers an ample view of petticoats and white stockings. When he set her on her feet, he grabbed her and kissed her until applause broke out on the platform. “Listen to me. I can’t give you a fraction of what you deserve, but I swear to you that I’ll—”

  “Oh Sam, you wonderful idiot. I don’t care about anything but you and the girls.” She held on to his ears and kissed him hard. “My life started with the three of you, don’t you know that? You and the girls, that’s all I want.” Her hands flew over his face and chest, and back to his lips. “I love you. How can you not know? I’ve always loved you. Always, always!”

  He threw back his head and shouted. “She loves me!”

  Turning crimson, Angie cast a timid glance at the grinning people watching them on the platform. Leaning forward she cupped her hand around his ear. “I know where there’s a hotel room that is going to be private for two whole weeks.”

  Instantly his body responded, and he smiled down into her shining eyes, loving her so hard that his chest ached. And suddenly the future looked bright and promising and everything was possible. How could it not be, with her beside him?

  Scooping her into his arms, he carried her up the platform steps, past the depot, and put her into a cab. He offered the driver a bonus if he got them to the hotel in record time.

  Inside, he kissed her until they were both breathing raggedly and shaking with their urgent need for each other.