On Love's Own Terms (4 page)

For a while, she lay motionless—renewing her acquaintance with the rural night and lulled by the bullfrog concert coming faintly from the creek bank. A blue-moon brilliance bathed the bedroom when Bonnie sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

Was Luke sleeping downstairs? He was too long for the “chastity couch,” as he’d always cursed it while courting her, so he’d probably made a pallet on the living room floor. She smiled, imagining him sprawled in slumber only twenty feet below, and wondered where he wandered in his dreams.

A pang of sadness struck deep into her heart. If she hadn’t miscarried, their child would have favored Luke. She didn’t know why she felt so certain about that; she just did. The boy Luke had been scampered through her mind, his dark eyes flashing mischievously even as he slowed his pace to let her catch up and run with him. Only hours ago, he’d worn that same devilish smile which had enchanted her as a child and challenged her as a woman.

Had Luke really grieved for their baby? Or had he been relieved to be released from the responsibilities of a shotgun marriage? Painful seconds ticked away as Bonnie sobbed silently. She didn’t know the answer because they hadn’t discussed it when she came home from the hospital.

She had gone through labor and delivered a baby she’d never held in her arms. For weeks afterwards she had cried, aching with a despondent sense of loss and guilt. If Luke had suffered, as he’d claimed this afternoon and again this evening, he hadn’t shared his feelings with her. In the end, they’d been nothing more than intimate strangers.

So why did she still want him? Obviously they had a sexual chemistry that wouldn’t quit. But was their desire rooted in nostalgia, or was it a tender new offshoot that would flourish later if nurtured now? Bonnie’s sigh echoed her bewilderment. If she was even remotely capable of separating the emotional from the physical, she’d be holding Luke tonight instead of hugging her knees.

What exactly did he expect of her? Was he suggesting that she close shop and come home? Impossible! Her business was booked solid through June with graduations, weddings and museum openings. In addition, an established publishing house whose parties she catered had asked her to write a cookbook for their American food series.

Regardless of her personal feelings, she had to return to New York and fulfill her professional obligations. Surely when she explained the situation, Luke would understand. A poignant smile curved her lips. One thing was certain: If practice made perfect, her leaving ought to prove flawless this time.

Doubts darted through her mind. Luke said he still cared. But for how long? Forever? Or just until she made some major misstep? He said he felt incomplete without her. In truth, hadn’t she been living only half a life without him?

Bonnie’s throat felt cottony with fear, and tears blurred her vision. She had lots of questions, but so few answers. Maybe she and Luke would find a solution. She shivered. Maybe they wouldn’t.

The first silky pink strands of dawn threaded the sky before Bonnie surrendered to her exhaustion again. But she didn’t sleep well. Dreams of Luke wouldn’t leave her alone.

Chapter 3

Bonnie felt like a genuine slugabed when Darlene shook her awake later that morning. Since she could hardly confess to her marriage-minded sister that she was exhausted because she’d spent half the night thinking about her own divorce, she improvised a hasty excuse about jet lag catching up with her and hoped for the best

“That’s odd, considering you didn’t even change time zones.” Darlene wandered toward the dressing table where she began poking around in Bonnie’s cosmetics case. “Maybe the real reason you’re so tired is because you’re breathing fresh air instead of industrial pollution. I’ve heard that the mountains have the same effect on people.”

“Mmm,” Bonnie mumbled, “my lungs collapsed for joy.”

Darlene laughed. Judging from the familiar fragrance, she was also spray-testing Bonnie’s favorite perfume. “By the way, your friend Sueanne phoned a little while ago. She said she’d love to get together with you one day this week if you have the time.”

Bonnie nodded and made a mental note to return the call later today. All through school, she and Sueanne had been closer than two peas in a pod—swapping clothes and sharing secrets, supporting each other through head colds and heartaches. Sadly enough, she had never captured that same quality of companionship with another woman. Not even with her sister.

When Darlene finished with the contents of the cosmetics case, she sat on the foot of the bed and conducted a one-woman gabfest. That Bonnie neither responded nor opened her eyes didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She talked enough for the both of them.

Bonnie finally decided to rise but seriously doubted she’d shine again much before the turn of the century. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. It helped. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Better still. When she emerged, she felt considerably more alert than she’d thought possible.

Her lace-trimmed nightgown floated around her as she walked toward the dresser. She selected underwear from the top drawer, then took out a pair of claret-red cropped pants and a matching camisole top from the closet.

Darlene ambled over to the full-length mirror and stared glumly at her own attire, a T-shirt, denim cut-offs and sneakers. “If Dave saw the two of us together right now, he’d swear I’m the victim of severe gene mutation.”

“Why?” Bonnie asked as she slipped into her clothes.

“Because I ooze about as much sex appeal as the Bride of Frankenstein while you look like the flower of southern womanhood in full bloom,” she grumbled. “Even
I
find it hard to believe we’re related.”

“But you’re dressed for moving furniture,” Bonnie pointed out. “You’d look kind of silly carting end tables around wearing a Scarlett O’Hara hoop skirt.”

“Maybe so.” Darlene sighed. “But if you weren’t my sister, I’d be insanely jealous.”

Bonnie recognized the symptoms of self-doubt, having suffered numerous episodes of the same malady since her divorce. Were their fragile egos simply a peculiar family trait? she wondered. Or was this a classic case of sibling rivalry finally surfacing after all these years?

Looking closely at Darlene, who’d become a woman during her absence and without her help, Bonnie felt a sharp pang of guilt. Letters and long-distance phone calls couldn’t compensate for the lack of personal contact between them, but she prayed they’d have time this week to strengthen their blood ties. Perhaps they’d also forge the precious bond of friendship.

Bonnie reached into her closet and removed a voile sundress she’d bought specifically to wear during her visit. It would be a small beginning, but she had to start somewhere. She took the dress off the hanger and held it up for size against a delighted Darlene. Despite their slight physical differences, it seemed a near-perfect fit.

“Now when you get back this evening,” she instructed in her best big-sister voice, “take a long bubble bath, then slip into this. It’s guaranteed to set Dave’s head spinning faster than a top.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Darlene murmured, stroking the soft material. “And shoes, too!” she squealed when Bonnie produced high-heeled sandals of delicately woven leather. Twisting and turning in front of the mirror, she laughed. “I’ll be so dolled-up, Dave won’t even recognize me.”

“The Bride of Frankenstein, indeed.” Bonnie sniffed indignantly, repeating Darlene’s earlier description of herself. “Nobody talks like that about my sister and gets away with it.”

Darlene carefully draped the dress across the bed to avoid wrinkling it, then grimaced. “Compared to you, though, I’ll still look as homespun as sackcloth.”

Bonnie realized this was the turning point as far as establishing the future course of their relationship. If Darlene had resentments to air or questions to ask, now was the time. She waited quietly, letting her younger sister take the initiative.

Rejoining Bonnie in front of the mirror, Darlene smiled ruefully at her own reflection. “When I was growing up,” she confided, “I wanted to be blond and leggy, just like you.”

“Whatever for?” Startled by the revelation, Bonnie gaped at Darlene, who was an attractive brunette.

“I suppose because everyone was always making such a big fuss over you,” Darlene admitted without a hint of rancor. “Let’s face it, around here you were the original golden girl—the prettiest, the smartest in school—”

“The one who got
caught,”
Bonnie added dryly, referring to her pregnancy.

“Oh, but you even did that with flair.” Leftover envy tinged Darlene’s sigh. “Of course, I was only fourteen at the time, too young to voice an opinion of consequence. But if anyone
had
bothered asking me, I’d have told them I thought your elopement was the most romantic event since—” She flung her arms wide for emphasis. “Since Romeo and Juliet!”

“Right elements, wrong tragedy.” Despite her bantering tone, Bonnie was jolted to learn that Darlene had harbored so many mistaken notions.

She walked to the window and gazed outside. If she were really aiming for an honest understanding between them, she had to set the record straight. “In reality, the whole thing was more like a terrible practical joke that backfired on us.”

“Because of your miscarriage?” Darlene prompted.

“Partially.” Bonnie frowned and shrugged her shoulders expressively. “The day we eloped, I kept having these horrible attacks of morning sickness.” She shuddered at the memory. “Plus, I cried all the way to the preacher’s house and back again, confused and scared witless.”

“I wish I’d known,” Darlene murmured sympathetically. “But you always acted so confident about what you were doing; it just never occurred to me that you might feel the least bit afraid.”

“Try petrified,” Bonnie corrected. “Remember daddy’s old adage, We grow too soon old and too late smart?”

Darlene nodded and sat down on the foot of the bed again.

“Well, that described Luke and me to a tee the day we eloped.” Her eyes misted with tears she adamantly refused to shed. “He didn’t know the first thing about how to be a husband. And outside of a flair for cooking, I certainly wasn’t very qualified to become a wife.” An ironic smile curved her lips. “Unfortunately, by the time we realized our shortcomings, we’d already involved an innocent third party.”

“Did you ever consider your alternatives?”

“You mean abortion or adoption?” Bonnie drew a deep breath and shook her head. “Not seriously.”

“How did Luke feel about it?”

“He never said. And I was too damned frightened of what his answer might be to ask.” She dipped her head in remorse. Perhaps after hearing the truth of the tragedy, Darlene would know what a vital role communication played in building a strong marriage. “In essence, we were strangers caught in the same snare.”

“Then your miscarriage was sort of a blessing in disguise,” Darlene concluded. At Bonnie’s horrified expression, she hastened to clarify. “I mean because it freed you both.”

“Physically, yes; emotionally, no.” In spite of her firm resolve to the contrary, Bonnie felt tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to explain it except to say that once I’d adjusted to the fact that I was pregnant, I wanted that baby with every breath in my body.”

“I never realized that before,” Darlene admitted sadly.

“That was my mistake, too,” Bonnie insisted. “I assumed you were too young to understand.”

“When you moved back home before your divorce, I would lie awake in my room at night listening to you cry.” Darlene sniffled softly as she stood and hugged Bonnie. “I hated myself because I didn’t know how best to help you. And after you went away, I figured I’d failed you when you needed me most. If only we’d talked…”

“I’ve always wondered if I might have unconsciously done something wrong early in my pregnancy that caused me to lose the baby.” Bonnie sobbed brokenly as she voiced her secret burden. “Maybe I neglected eating the right foods. Maybe I lifted a heavy piece of furniture. Maybe I didn’t rest enough or—”

“Don’t keep punishing yourself when it probably wasn’t even your fault,” Darlene pleaded. “Listen, not long ago I read an article by a doctor saying miscarriages happen often in first pregnancies—they’re a natural screening process with no known treatment to prevent them. He also wrote that the emotional complications are generally much worse than the physical.”

“I certainly confirm that theory.” Bonnie sighed heavily.

“Luke did, too,” Darlene added bluntly. “For a long time after you left, he acted like a crazy man. When he wasn’t two-fisting his way around town, he was holed up in that little house you had rented. He seemed to be shutting out the world and everyone who cared. Even though he’s dated other women since, he’s never gotten over you.”

Hearing his reaction described so vividly, Bonnie realized how selfish and immature she had been in assuming that the loss was hers alone. Her mind whirled with regrets. Could she ever make it up to him? Why hadn’t they talked it out between them?

“This doctor’s term for couples mourning a miscarriage was the walking
wounded, because they tend to bottle up their grief and their feelings of failure rather than discuss them,” Darlene continued. “It’s an excellent article, full of new information. I’m sure the magazine is still around here somewhere if you want to read it.”

Bonnie nodded and wiped her eyes with the tissue that Darlene had pressed into her hand. Relief at having shared part of her guilt for the first time ever mingled with the warm certainty that she’d gained a friend. She looked at her sister and couldn’t contain the sudden, lighthearted spurt of laughter burbling in her throat. “Aren’t we a pretty, pink-eyed pair?”

“Too bad teardrops aren’t pennies. We’d have our pockets full.” Darlene smiled in watery chagrin. “Dave says I’ve got a maudlin streak a mile wide. Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.”

“You just tell him it’s a time-honored family tradition,” Bonnie ordered pertly. “Some clans have good teeth; the Sob Sisters have well-drained sinuses.”