White Lace and Promises Read online

  It was wrong, Maggie knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. Slowly, each inch pounding in nails of guilt, she withdrew the scented paper from the envelope.

  Chapter Nine

  Carefully, Maggie unfolded the letter and was again struck by the smoothly flowing lines of the even handwriting. Angie’s soulful dark eyes flashed in Maggie’s memory from the time she’d seen the other woman’s photograph. The handwriting matched the woman.

  Dear Glenn,

  I hope that I am doing the right thing by mailing you this letter. I’ve hurt you so terribly, and yet I owe you so much. I’m asking that you find it in your heart to forgive me, Glenn. I realize the pain I’ve caused you must run deep. Knowing that I’ve hurt you is my only regret.

  Glenn, I don’t believe that I’ll ever be able to adequately thank you for your love. It changed my life and gave Simon back to me. Simon and I were destined to be man and wife. I can find no other way to explain it. I love him, Glenn, and would have always loved him. You and I were foolish to believe I could have forgotten Simon.

  My hope is that someday you’ll find a woman who will love you as much as I love Simon. You deserve happiness. Simon and I will never forget you. We both want to thank you for the sacrifice you made for us. Be happy, dear Glenn. Be very happy.

  With a heart full of gratitude,

  Angie

  With trembling hands, Maggie refolded the letter and placed it back inside Glenn’s drawer. If she had hoped to satisfy her curiosity regarding Angie, the letter only raised more questions. Angie had mentioned a sacrifice Glenn had made on her behalf. But what? He was like that, noble and sensitive, even self-sacrificing. Angie’s marrying Simon clearly had devastated him.

  All day the letter troubled Maggie, until she decided that if she were to help Glenn bury the past, she had to understand it. That night, she would do the very thing she had promised she wouldn’t: She would ask Glenn to tell her about Angie.

  No day had ever seemed so long. She didn’t leave the house, didn’t comb her hair until the afternoon, and when she did, her mirrored reflection revealed troubled, weary eyes and tight, compressed lips. If Glenn could talk this out with her, their chances of happiness would be greatly increased. He had saved the letter, risked her finding it. Although he might not be willing to admit it, he was holding on to Angie, hugging the memory. The time had come to let go.

  With her arms cradling her middle, Maggie paced the living room carpet, waiting for Glenn to come home from work. The questions were outlined in her mind. She had no desire to hurt or embarrass him. She wanted him to tell her honestly and freely what had happened with Angie and why he had stepped aside for Angie to marry Simon.

  Yet for all her preparedness, when Glenn walked in the door Maggie turned abruptly toward him with wide, apprehensive eyes, her brain numb.

  “Hello, Glenn.” She managed to greet him calmly and walked across the room to give him a perfunctory kiss. She felt comfortable, but her cheeks and hands were cold. Earlier she had decided not to mention finding the letter, not wanting Glenn to know she had stooped so low as to read it. However, if he asked, she couldn’t … wouldn’t … lie.

  His hands found her waist and he paused to study her. “Maggie, what’s wrong, you’re as cold as an iceberg.”

  She felt ridiculously close to tears and nibbled at her lower lip before answering. This was far more difficult than she’d thought it would be. “Glenn, we need to talk.”

  “I can see that. Do you have another rule for our marriage?”

  Absently, she rubbed the palms of her hands together. “No.”

  He followed her into the living room and took a seat while she poured him a glass of wine. “Do you think I’m going to need that?” He didn’t know what was troubling Maggie, but he had never seen her quite like this. She looked almost as if she were afraid, which was ludicrous. There was nothing she had to fear from him. He was her husband, and she should always feel comfortable coming to him.

  Maybe she was pregnant. His pulse leaped eagerly at the thought. A baby would be wonderful, exciting news. A feeling of tenderness overcame him. Maggie was carrying his child.

  “Maggie,” he asked gently, “are you pregnant?”

  She whirled around, sloshing some of the wine over the side of the glass, her eyes wide with astonishment. “No. What makes you ask?”

  Disappointed, Glenn slowly shook his head. “No reason. Won’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

  She handed him the drink but didn’t take a seat, knowing she would never be able to sit comfortably in one position. She was too nervous. Hands poised, her body tense, she stood by the window and looked down at the street far below. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day.”

  He wished she’d get to the point instead of leaving him to speculate what troubled her. He had never seen her this edgy. She resembled a child who had come to her parent to admit a great fault. “If it was so important, why didn’t you phone me at the office?”

  “I … couldn’t. This was something that had to be done in person, Glenn,” she said, then swallowed, clenching and unclenching her fists as she ignored the impatience in his eyes. “This isn’t easy.” She resisted the urge to dry her clammy palms on the pockets of her navy-blue slacks.

  “I can see that,” he said gently. Whatever it was had clearly caused her a lot of anxiety. Rushing her would do no good, and so he forced himself to relax as much as possible. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the thick cushions of the chair.

  “I thought for a long time I’d wait until you were comfortable about this … this subject. Now I feel like a fool, forcing it all out in the open. I wish I were a stronger person, but I’m not. I’m weak, really.” Slowly she turned and hesitantly raised her eyes to his. “Glenn, I’m your wife. Getting married the way we did may have been unconventional, but I have no regrets. None. I’m happy being married to you. But as your wife, I’m asking you to tell me about Angie.” Maggie watched as surprise mingled with frustration and grew across his face.

  “Why now?” Angie was the last subject he had expected Maggie to force upon him. As far as he was concerned, his relationship with the other woman was over. He wouldn’t deny that he had been hurt, but he had no wish to rip open the wounds of his pride. And that was what had suffered most. Even when he’d known he’d lost her, he had continued to make excuses to see and be with Angie. Something perverse within himself had forced him to go back again and again, even when he had recognized that there wasn’t any possibility of her marrying him. For weeks he had refused to let go of her even though he’d known he’d lost her and she would never be his.

  Now was the opportunity to explain that she’d found the letter, Maggie thought. But she couldn’t admit that she’d stooped so low as to read the extremely personal letter. “I … wanted to know … It’s just that—”

  “Is it because of what happened the other night?”

  Glenn offered her an excuse that Maggie readily accepted. “Yes.”

  Glenn’s mouth tightened, not with impatience but with confused frustration. Maggie should have put it out of her mind long ago. No good would come from dredging up the past. “Whatever there was between us is over. Angie has nothing to do with you and me.”

  “But ultimately she does,” Maggie countered. “You wouldn’t have married me if your engagement hadn’t been broken.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. We wouldn’t have married if I hadn’t attended Steve and Janelle’s wedding, either.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Maggie, trust me. There’s nothing to discuss.” The words were sharp.

  Previously, when Glenn was angry, Maggie had marveled at his control. He rarely raised his voice, and never at her. Until now. The only evidence she had ever had of his fury was a telltale leap of muscle in his jaw. He moved from his chair to the far side of the room.

  “Glenn,” she ventured. “I don’t understand why you’re so reluctant
to discuss her. Is it because I’ve never told you about Dirk? I would have gladly, but, you see, you’ve never asked. If there’s anything you want to know, I’ll be happy to explain.”

  “No, I don’t care to hear the sorry details of your relationship with another man, and in return I expect the same courtesy.”

  Her hand on the back of the sofa steadied her. All these weeks, she’d been kidding herself, living in a dreamer’s world. As Glenn’s wife, she would fill the void left when Angie married Simon, but now she knew she would never be anything more than a substitute. These glorious days in Charleston had been an illusion. She had thought they’d traveled so far and yet they’d been only walking in place, stirring up the roadway dust so that it clouded their vision and their perspective. Oh, she would cook his meals, keep his house and bear his children, and love him until her heart would break. But she would never be anything more than second best.

  “All right, Glenn,” she murmured, casting her eyes to the carpet. “I’ll never mention her name again.”

  His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her. But he had asked her not to, and she wouldn’t. She had swallowed her pride and come to him when he must have known how difficult it had been for her. That meant nothing to him, she realized. It didn’t matter what she said or did; Glenn wasn’t going to tell her anything.

  Purposefully, Maggie moved into the kitchen and started to prepare their evening meal. She was hurt and disillusioned. She realized that Glenn hadn’t been angry, not really. The displeasure he had shown had been a reaction to the fact that he’d been unable to deal with his feelings for Angie. But he must, and she prayed he would realize it soon. Only when he acknowledged his feelings and sorted it out in his troubled mind would he be truly free to love her.

  It took Glenn several minutes to analyze his indignation. Of all the subjects in the world, the last thing he wanted to discuss was the past. He had handled it badly. Maggie was upset, and he regretted that, but it was necessary. The farewell party was responsible for this sudden curiosity; Maggie had said so herself. He should have realized earlier the repercussions.

  Glenn made his way to the kitchen and pretended to read the evening paper, all the while studying Maggie as she worked, tearing lettuce leaves for a salad. Someday soon he’d make it up to her and she’d know how important she was in his life … how much he loved her and needed her.

  In bed that night, the entire Alaskan tundra might as well have lain between them. Glenn was on his side of the bed, his eyes closed, trying to sleep. He had wanted to make love and reassure Maggie, but she had begged off. He did his best to disguise his disappointment.

  Other than polite conversation, Maggie hadn’t said a word to him all evening. She cooked their dinner but didn’t bother to eat any of it. For his part, he could hardly stomach the fresh crab salad, although generally Maggie was a good cook and he enjoyed their meals together. Cleaning the kitchen afterward seemed to take her hours, and when she returned to the living room he had guiltily searched her face for evidence of what she was thinking.

  For a full ten minutes, Glenn was tempted to wake Maggie and tell her he would answer any questions she had. Maggie was right. She did deserve to know and it was only his pride that prevented him from explaining everything. But she was asleep by then and he decided to see how things went in the morning. If Maggie was still troubled, then he’d do as she had asked. But deep down, Glenn hoped that Maggie would put the subject out of her mind so they could go on with their lives.

  Maggie lay stiffly on her side of the bed, unable to sleep. She longed for the comfort of Glenn’s body and the warmth of his embrace. He had hurt her, and refusing to make love had been her way of getting back. But she was the one who suffered with disappointment. She needed her husband’s love more than ever. Her heart felt as if a block of concrete were weighing it down.

  The more she thought about their conversation, the angrier she got. She was his wife and yet he withheld from her an important aspect of his life. Glenn was denying her his trust. Their marriage was only a thin shell of what it was meant to be. If Glenn wouldn’t tell her about his relationship with Angie, then he left her no option. Maggie decided she would find Angie and ask her what had happened. From the pieces of information she’d gathered, locating the other woman wouldn’t be difficult.

  In the long, sleepless hours of the night, Maggie mentally debated the pros and cons of such an action. What she might discover could ruin her marriage. Yet what she didn’t know was, in essence, doing the same thing. The thought of Glenn making love with the other woman caused such an intense physical pain that it felt as if something were cutting into her heart. Unable to bear it, she tried to blot the picture from her mind, but no matter how she tried, the fuzzy image stayed with her, taunting her.

  By the early hours of the morning, Maggie had devised her plan. It worked with surprising ease.

  Two days later, Charlotte Lambert dropped Maggie off at the airport for a flight scheduled for San Francisco. As Glenn had agreed earlier, Maggie was going to fly ahead and take care of necessary business that awaited her. From the wistful look Glenn gave her that morning when she brought out her suitcases, she realized that he regretted having consented that she return before him. Some of the tension between them had lessened in the two days before the flight. With Maggie’s plan had come a release. Glenn wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to know, but she’d soon learn on her own.

  The Delta 747 left Charleston for San Francisco on time, but Maggie wasn’t on the flight. Instead, she boarded a small commuter plane that was scheduled to land in Groves Point. The same afternoon she would take another commuter plane and connect with a flight to Atlanta. If everything went according to schedule, Maggie would arrive in California only four hours later than her original flight.

  Groves Point was a charming community. The man at the rental car agency gave her directions into town, and Maggie paused at the city park and looked at the statue of the Civil War heroes. She gazed at the drawn sword of the man standing beside the cannon and knew that if Glenn ever found out what she was doing then her fate would be as sure as the South’s was to the North.

  The man at the corner service station, wearing greasy coveralls and a friendly smile, gave her directions to Simon Canfield’s home. Maggie drove onto the highway past the truck stop, as instructed. She would have missed the turnoff from the highway if she hadn’t been watching for it. The tires kicked up gravel as the car wound its way along the curved driveway, and she slowed to a crawl, studying the long, rambling house. Somehow, having Angie live in an ordinary house was incongruous with the mental image Maggie had conjured up. Angie should live in a castle with knights fighting to protect and serve her.

  A sleek black dog was alert and barking from the front step, and Maggie hesitated before getting out of the car. She wasn’t fond of angry dogs, but she’d come too far to be put off by a loud bark. Cautiously, she opened the car door and stepped out, pressing her back against the side of the compact vehicle as she inched forward.

  “Prince. Quiet.” The dark-haired woman wearing a maternity top opened the back door and stepped onto the porch.

  Instantly, the dog went silent, and Maggie’s gaze was riveted to the woman. Maggie stood, stunned. The photos hadn’t done Angie’s beauty justice. No woman had the right to look that radiant, lovely, and serene. Angie was everything Glenn’s silence had implied—and more. Her face glowed with her happiness, although she wasn’t smiling now, but was regarding Maggie curiously. Maggie had been prepared to feel antagonistic toward her, and was shocked to realize that disliking the woman would be impossible.

  “Can I help you?” Angie called from the top step, holding the dog by the collar.

  All Maggie’s energy went toward moving her head in a simple nod. Angie’s voice was soft and lilting, with an engaging southern drawl. She appeared to be several months pregnant.

  “Bob phoned and said a woman had stopped in and asked directions to the house.�
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  Apparently, Bob was the man at the gas station. Putting on a plastic smile, Maggie took a step forward. “I’m Maggie Lambert.”

  “Are you related to Glenn?”

  Again, it was all Maggie could do to nod.

  “I didn’t know Glenn had any sisters.”

  Forcing herself to maintain an air of calm, Maggie met the gentle gaze of the woman whom Glenn had loved so fiercely. “He doesn’t. I’m his wife.”

  If Angie was surprised, she did an admirable job of not showing it. “Please, won’t you come inside?”

  After traveling so far, devising the plan behind her husband’s back, and, worse, following through with it—Maggie stood cemented to the spot. After all that, without allowing anything to dissuade her from her idea, she was suddenly amazed at the audacity of her actions. Wild uncertainty, fear, and unhappiness all collided into one another in her bemused mind until she was unable to move, struck by one thought: It was wrong for me to have come here.

  “Maggie?” Angie moved down the steps with the dog loyally traipsing behind. “Are you all right?”

  Maggie tasted regret at the gentleness in Angie’s eyes. No wonder Glenn loved her so much, she thought. This wasn’t a mere woman. Maggie hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. Angie was the type of woman a man yearned to love and protect. More disturbing to Maggie was the innate knowledge that Angie’s inner beauty far surpassed any outer loveliness. And she was gorgeous. Not in the way the fashion models portrayed beauty, with sleek bodies and gaudy cosmetics. Angie was soft and gentle and sweet—a Madonna. All of this flashed through Maggie’s mind in the brief moment it took for Angie to reach her.

  “Are you feeling ill?” Angie asked, placing a hand on Maggie’s shoulder.

  “I … I don’t think so.”

  “Here,” she said softly, leading her toward the house. “Come inside and I’ll give you a glass of water. You look as if you’re about to faint.”