Then Came Love (6 page)

Amanda frowned. “About what?”

The other woman threw back her head and laughed. “About being nice to you. What did you think we were talking about?”

“I’m not sure.” Amanda thought for a moment. “Why would that make a difference?”

Agnes took out a cigarette and fitted it into a slim black holder. “Because most of them belong to those clubs your husband owns. A lot of business gets conducted there.” She took out a battered Zippo lighter and lit her cigarette. “Among other things.” She blew out a long stream of smoke. “I admire the way you’ve kept coming back here in spite of the way they’re treated you. You’ve got guts, Amanda Reimer. I think we’re going to be friends.”

Agnes Henderson filled a void in Amanda’s life. They met for lunch twice a week and Agnes became her confidant as well as her friend. Amanda learned that Agnes had married three times; always to wealthy men. The Zippo had belonged to Number One. “He was a real man,” she said fondly. “Made his fortune in oil.” Number Two had been killed in an accident after only a year of marriage and Number Three had died six months ago of prostate cancer. Agnes announced that she was ‘off the market’ permanently. “I’ve got more money than any of those men who come sniffing after me,” she said bluntly. “Why would I marry them?”

“Aren’t you lonely?” asked Amanda.

“Not really. I travel, I read, I watch some television and I play golf twice a week.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “I have lunch with you. I keep busy.” She tilted her head to one side. “How about you?” What do you do?”

Amanda forced a smile. “Mostly I sit around wishing I had a baby. It’s been a year now and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get pregnant.”

“What does your doctor say?”

“I haven’t gone to see her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think Vince would like it.”

“Does he have to know?”

Amanda was taken aback. For the first time it struck her that Vince controlled every facet of her existence.

Agnes was watching her carefully. “I can give you the money for the doctor’s visit if you like.”

“No, it’s not that. Vince gives me more money than I can spend.” She hesitated. “I’m going to give it some serious thought. It would be nice to know if there’s anything wrong with me.”

* * *

“You’re perfectly healthy, Mrs. Reimer. There’s no reason you can’t conceive.” The specialist handed her a pamphlet. “Here. Read this over and let me know if you have any questions.”

Amanda accepted the pamphlet but she knew she wouldn’t read it. She’d already done hours of research on the internet.

* * *

“I went to the doctor today.” They had just finished dinner.

“Oh? Why?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Because I haven’t been able to get pregnant and I wanted to know if there was something wrong.”

“And what did they say?”

“She said there’s nothing wrong with me.”

He took his time lighting one of his foul smelling cigarillos. “No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said no. I know where this is leading, Amanda and I’m not going to get tested. Not by your doctor or any doctor, so get that notion out of your head.”

“But Vince, I thought you wanted to have children too.”

He gave her a scathing look. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did. The first night we met. I said I wanted to have children and you said you’d like to help me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you know what I meant.” He tapped some ash onto his dessert plate, a habit that Amanda abhorred. “There’s no room in my life for children.”

Amanda clung to her dreams. “I’ll be the one taking care of them. Please, Vince.”

“I said no and that’s that” he roared. He stood up, grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the foyer. “Don’t wait up,” he called and slammed the door.

Amanda sat for several minutes, waiting for him to come back, knowing that he wouldn’t. Who was this man she’d married? She didn’t know him any more. Or had she ever really known him?

She considered her options, but they were limited. Especially while Gran was being cared for in a private facility at great expense. She stood and started to clear away the dinner plates, unaware of the tears streaming down her face.

* * *

Looking back now, she realized that Vince changed that night. Or perhaps he hadn’t changed at all. Maybe that was when his true nature started to assert itself. When they were at home together his tone was caustic and demeaning; when they were out in company he was adept at putting her down with subtle verbal jabs. His lovemaking became demanding and she despaired of being able to please him.

* * *

“You look terrible, Amanda.” As usual Agnes didn’t hold back. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

Amanda tried to smile at her friend. “It’s Vince. According to him, I can’t do anything right.”

“He’s a turd.”

Amanda burst out laughing. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. The man is excrement.” Agnes waved her cigarette holder. “Do you want to know why the women here wouldn’t talk to you?”

“I don’t know. Do I?” Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this.

“Because he told everyone that you were a stripper.” Agnes snorted. “Seemed to think that made him a stud, or something.” Eyes sparkling, she leaned closer. “Were you really a stripper? I’ve always thought I’d be good at that.” She looked down at her body. “At least when I was younger.”

Amanda didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “He really did that? He told them I was a stripper?”

Agnes nodded.

“And yet he was the one who suggested that I come here to find friends.” She was too angry to cry. “What kind of a man does that?”

Agnes didn’t respond.

“I wasn’t a stripper. I was a dancer.” She offered a weak smile. “Most of the girls call themselves exotic dancers but that makes it sound worse if you ask me.”

Agnes stabbed her cigarette into the ashtray. “You asked me what kind of a man does something like that. A man who needs to control everyone and everything around him, that’s who.”

Amanda nodded. “You’re right.” She looked at her friend. “You were kind to me while everyone else was talking about me. Thank you for that.”

“No need to thank me. You’ve made things interesting around here. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much for a long time.” Agnes dug in her purse and pulled out a slim gold case. She opened it and removed a business card. “Here,” she said. “My address and the number of the cell phone that I always answer. Just in case.”

A sound startled Amanda out of her reverie. It took her a moment to re-orient herself. She looked toward the lake, where something had disturbed the surface. The moon was high in the sky now, coating everything with pale, silvery light.

She listened, then recognized the sound of a paddle dipping into water. She stood up and watched as Jackson emerged out of the darkness and guided a canoe onto the small beach a few feet away. He leaped out and pulled it up with one hand.

“Hi,” he said. His gaze caressed her face and a curl of desire unwound in the pit of her stomach.

Could he hear her heart pounding? She didn’t care. “Hi yourself. I didn’t see you around today.”

“No.” He didn’t offer any explanation. “But I’m here now. Do you have anything to drink?”

She was glad he couldn’t see her blush in the darkness. She’d brought a couple of beer from the restaurant for just such an occasion. “I can offer you a beer, or a soda, or I could put on some coffee.”

“I’d love a beer.” He motioned to the cottage. “Shall I get it?”

She laid a hand on his arm and they both froze. The energy pulsing between them was enough to light a small city. “No, I’ll get it. You sit down; you look tired.”

She retrieved her hand. It was tempting to look at her fingers to see if they were singed.
Stop that nonsense
, she told herself and went to collect the beer.

When she came back out she noticed that he’d angled the chairs. They were still close together, but now they could see each other as they talked.

He took a long swallow of beer, eyes closed. “Good,” he said, and settled back into the chair. “How was your first full day in the kitchen?”

Was it really only her first full day? So much had happened. “It went well.” She dragged herself up out of the depths of the chair and perched on the edge of the seat. “Carlos was amazing.”

He gave her an odd look. “I’d forgotten that you’re leaving.” He waved his beer can around. “Seems like you belong here.”

“I was saying the same thing to Kathy today. But at least she can feel confident that she’ll have a cook.”

“Has she found someone?”

“Carlos. He’s more experienced that we realized. By the time I leave he’ll be ready to take over.” She thought for a moment. “Probably could now, as a matter of fact. He’s an interesting young man. He has no tats or piercings that I can see.”

“I’d noticed.” Jackson drained the can and nodded, suddenly serious. “I don’t think he messes with drugs, either.”

“What are you, the drug police?” Her tone was teasing.

He looked at her and smiled easily. “No, but I have some experience.”

“Can you share? Or is it something you’d rather not talk about?”

He sucked in a deep breath, seemed to be deciding whether to continue or not.

“My brother Mike is a drug addict,” he said finally. “He started smoking weed and then when his fiancée broke off their engagement he moved on to chemical drugs.” He crushed the beer can in one hand. “He’s seven months clean right now and virtually starting over.  He lost everything. His job, the house he’d been making payments on, his self respect...everything.” He continued, talking almost to himself. “He went to rehab twice but went back on the street both times.” He looked up. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe the third time will be lucky. So far, so good.”

“How does your family deal with that?”

“Fortunately, my Dad died before he learned about it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That didn’t sound right.”

“I know what you mean. What happened to your father?”

“He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few months before Deb broke it off with Mike. He was gone six weeks later.” He lifted his head, looked at her. “Dad was in law enforcement. He would have taken it badly.”

“What about your Mom?”

“She lives just a bit north of here, in Lac La Hache. Moved there to be close to my sister, and her grandchildren. She misses Dad, but she keeps busy.”

Amanda gazed into the distance. “I thought I had it bad.”

He waited for her to speak.

“My parents died when I was a kid. I’d always been close to my grandmother, so it was natural that I should live with her.” She rocked back and forth as she spoke. “She was supportive of everything I ever wanted to do. It’s thanks to her that I learned to cook.” She was silent for a few moments then continued. “She had her first stroke a couple of years ago and she’s never really recovered. I made her a promise that I wouldn’t put her in a seniors’ home and I haven’t.” Her voice trailed off. “She fought so hard against becoming incapacitated.”