The Bride of Willow Creek(8)

“What have you been doing since school let out?”

After sliding a look toward Angie, Lucy brushed at a stain on her dress, then whispered, “We had a rolling contest down Golden Avenue.”

“Lucy won,” Daisy solemnly announced.

“I rolled the fastest.”

These were the moments that perplexed him and pointed up the difficulty of a man trying to raise daughters. Did he praise her for rolling down a hill faster than anyone else? Or chastise her for behaving like a young hoyden and getting her dress dirty?

“I’m glad you won,” he said finally. “I need to speak to Angie a bit, so you two go back to Mrs. Molly’s and ask if you can have supper there. I’ll come for you after you’ve eaten and we’ll talk then.”

Lucy cupped her hand around her mouth and leaned to his ear. “How long is that lady going to stay with us?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Off you go.”

Before they banged out the door, they looked back at Angie, not sure what to make of her. Sam waited a beat then leaned outside and found them lingering beside the stoop. “Go,” he commanded in a stern voice. “No eavesdropping.” Giggling, they ran toward the house next door, but Sam didn’t step back inside until he saw them talking to Molly Johnson.

Molly called across the yards. “Supper’s fine. You come for them when you’re ready.” Her dark eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Thank you.”

Already Angie’s presence was causing problems that radiated like circles spreading from a rock tossed in a pond. He’d have to tell the girls about her, and he guessed he’d have to explain things to Molly. Sure as sunset, someone had seen Angie sock him at the depot, and Mrs. Finn was undoubtedly out there right now spreading the word that Sam Holland had a wife and he’d had one for ten years.

When he returned inside, Angie was seated at the kitchen table staring at him with large shocked eyes and a white face.

“I can’t believe this. I just cannot believe it! I guess the first question has to be, where is your daughters’ mother?” Her cold gaze swept the curtains and other feminine touches. “Is that the next shock? A woman walks in here and announces that she’s living with my husband?”

“Laura died of pneumonia over a year ago.” Stepping to the stove, Sam stoked the coals and then slid the coffeepot over the heat.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her hands lifted, then fell back into her lap. “How could you do such a thing?”

There were a dozen answers, all of which would sidetrack the issue and lead to accusations and justifications. “Whatever you want to ask, do it now,” he said, clenching his teeth. “I don’t want to discuss Laura in front of my daughters, and they’re usually here when I am. So let’s finish the questions while the girls are next door.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.”

“You son of a bitch!” Her voice was low and shaking. “While I was wasting away in Chicago growing older and lonelier, you were living your life!” She reached for the vase of dandelions with a quick movement as if she intended to throw it at him, but she stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, then brought her fist back to her lap and drew a deep breath. “Did she know about me?”

“Yes,” he said, staring at her.

All of his life he would regret that he hadn’t been able to offer Laura marriage.

Because Mrs. Bertoli shrank from scandal and because Angie hadn’t stood up to her parents, Angie had wasted a miserable ten years. And he hadn’t done right by Laura. She’d become further estranged from her parents. Laura had deserved better. For as long as he lived, he would bitterly resent that he’d been unable to place a wedding ring on her finger.

“Laura didn’t mind living in adultery with a married man? She just shrugged off the fact that you had a wife?” Angie spat the questions in a scathing tone hot with condemnation.

Reaching behind, Sam gripped the edges of the sink until he felt his knuckles whiten.

“Laura Govenor was a decent and good woman. Don’t judge her because you didn’t know her. Of course she minded that I couldn’t marry her. And of course she would have preferred that my situation was resolved. But she also had the courage to follow her heart,” he said, his gaze burning on a woman who had lacked that courage. “She said if we couldn’t be happy with a ring, we’d be happy without one. She said she didn’t care.” But he had.

“Did you ever once think that I might care?” Her eyes flamed and snapped. “For that matter, did you ever think of me at all?”