“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.