Doublecrossed Part 17

Callie sat there and stared at the women who were now talking quietly to one another while the rest of the guests tried to act as though they weren't watching them. Regan had said Angela was beautiful, and she was much prettier in person than she appeared in the photo Regan carried. She was a little taller than Regan, but that could have been because of her shoes. Even on Memorial Day, she dressed like she was going to a conference in business-casual attire. What a dumb name. But that's how Marina dressed too. Women in power didn't seem to have jeans and T-shirts.

Angela's broad shoulders in a white linen blouse made her look imposing. She was the kind of woman who looked like she owned the place, even though she'd almost been thrown out. Marina had that too. The unflappable calm that let them look like they were in charge even when they weren't.

They were almost nose to nose and when Regan jerked back and forth as she made each point, her straight, dark ponytail bounced. She didn't have a two hundred dollar blouse on, or linen slacks that barely had a wrinkle in them. Her worn, white, golf shirt had shrunk so much it barely covered the waistband of her pale red shorts, and her battered deck shoes looked like she might have had them since high school. But none of that mattered. She was Angela's equal.

Something about Regan made you want to look at her, and her alone. Angela was beautiful and very compelling, and had probably spent a long time that day trying to look both elegant and casual, but Regan outshone her with almost no effort.

Maybe it was her height and the casual grace she showed when she moved-a fluid, athletic grace let her glide around more like a dancer than a runner.

But it was more than that. Somehow her maturity and her poise made her seem worldly and mature. Even though Angela was thirteen years older and had a very important position in the business world, Regan looked so comfortable standing next to her that she could have been her boss.

Regan's eyes flashed angrily, and she started to use her hand to gesture in Angela's direction a few times, finally pointing her finger and poking it into Angela's chest. As soon as she did that Angela put her hand on Regan's back, opened the door, and led her outside. When that happened everyone inside started talking louder and more excitedly. The entire group was talking about Angela and wondering how she got the nerve to show up at a big family party. But it made perfect sense when you thought about it for a minute. You just didn't let a woman like Regan get away without putting up a h.e.l.l of a fight. If you had to show up someplace you weren't welcome-you sucked it up and did it. You had to fight for her. You'd be an idiot if you didn't.

Angela and Regan faced each other under the warm sun, the blacktop of the parking lot simmering under their feet. "I've never seen you look so angry," Angela said, her lush, full voice soft against the silence.

"I'm d.a.m.ned angry." Regan's eyes were dark and focused so intently they seemed like they could burn. "How do you have the nerve to waltz into my party? I haven't heard a peep from you since the day I moved out."

"Are you angry that I didn't call earlier or that I'm here now?"

"Both!" Regan saw her hands reach out to push Angela away, to knock the calm, self-a.s.sured look off her face. But some part of her body had the sense to back up and let her outstretched hands press against nothing but air. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" She felt her anger leave in a whoosh, replaced by an ache that seemed to blanket her heart. "I'm almost over you." That sounded like a complete lie and Angela would know it.

Reaching out with a tentative hand, Angela lightly touched Regan's shoulder. Her eyes were warm, her expression filled with empathy. "Don't get over me. Please." The last word was whispered, said so softly that Regan could only see it on Angela's lips. "I'll never be over you."

"You've been over me for months." Months! Not days. Not weeks. Not one word for months. It'd been like a death. A death that she had mourned. Now the corpse showed up and said it had been hiding.

"That's not true." Angela put her hand on Regan's shoulder once again and decisively led her to the entryway for the banquet room.

It was cool and quiet in the bright room, and both women stood for a moment, relishing the break from the heat. Angela kept guiding Regan, and they wound up sitting in the lovely garden, with the gentle, calming sounds of water cascading down the boulders. Regan took in a deep breath, smelling the sweet scents of jasmine and honeysuckle.

In her normal efficient style, Angela picked up right where she'd left off. "I didn't waste your time making excuses, and that's all I could have done at first. I know you. You're never interested in hearing promises. You want to see results."

Blankly, Regan asked, "Results? What results?"

"I've made some changes. Big changes."

"Like what?" Regan gazed at her warily. How could she look just the same? Hadn't this changed her forever? How could a dead woman keep talking like they'd just been apart because of a business trip?

"I found a very good therapist. I told her how I'd ruined a relationship I was devastated about, and she's helping me figure a lot of things out."

"Go on."

"I'm seeing her twice a week, and when I travel I call her and we have our session on the phone. I haven't missed one."

Therapy? For Angela? She'd rather have had her fingernails pulled out. She had to have changed a ton to let a stranger into her head. But how could anyone change that much? She was guarded with almost everyone. But she seemed sincere. More open.

"That's good. Therapy can really help you see your patterns."

"Right. That's a good way to put it. Carole has helped me see how so much of my behavior is harmful to a good relationship. She suggested I start taking a meditation cla.s.s, and that's helped me relax at night. I'm sleeping better too, I don't have to read until I collapse."

That was impossible. Insomnia clung to Angela like her clothes. She'd be lying in bed, reading some journal, acting like it was vital to learn whatever was in it by morning. No one could function on as little sleep as she did. No one could put you off for ajust a few minutes' to finish an article like she did every time there was a hint of s.e.xual energy in the room. But she could accomplish almost anything that she put her mind to. Maybe even learn how to sleep. "That's good. You must feel better."

"I do." She looked at Regan with her dark brown eyes, so full of warmth and caring. "But I miss you so, so much."

"I miss you too."

"You do?" Light glimmered in her eyes, and a small smile bloomed.

"Of course I do. I was going to be with you until I died, Angela. I was going to have a baby with you. How could I not miss you?"

Angela's head dropped, and Regan spent a moment looking at how her glossy hair shone in the late afternoon sun. Angela spent a lot of time and money getting her hair to look just like she wanted it. Now it looked marvelous. So soft and touchable. She had a desire to reach out and caress it, then slide her hand down to Angela's jaw and feel her swallow. Feel the warmth of her skin, her pulse point beating against her fingers. But that was over. She shook her head to dispel those dangerous thoughts and concentrate on the present.

"Carole's not an expert, so she's recommended a s.e.x therapist. If you're willing-I'm ready to commit to going until we fix our problems."

Bitterly, Regan heard herself snap, "So you finally admit we had problems. Nice timing."

"It's awful timing. I know that. But we did have problems. Big ones. Actually," she said, taking a breath, "I'm the one with the problem. You were always ready to make love." Her head hung again, vulnerability radiating from her. Regan's hand lifted and hovered for just a second. But Angela lifted her head and squared her shoulders, in charge once again. "I'll fix whatever's broken. That's a promise."

"But how do you fix something like your s.e.x drive?"

"I don't know. But if it can be fixed, I'll fix it. There's a solution to every problem. You just have to throw enough time and manpower into it."

"Manpower? I don't think that's the solution to this one."

"You know what I mean. I can overcome any obstacle if I work hard enough."

"I'm not sure that's true. You can't make me trust you again, and that's the biggest problem."

"Yes I can," she said with fervor. "I've talked to my pastor and my parents and most of my friends. I've told everyone what I've done to you. I've shamed myself, Regan. Uncovered my soul to all of the people I respect. They'll all be watching to make sure I've learned my lesson."

This was a revelation of the greatest magnitude. Angela's reputation was her most prized possession. She'd always been the model daughter, and admitting her failings to her parents had to be unfathomably painful. "Wow," Regan said quietly. "That must have been rough."

A sliver of a smile showed. "You have no idea. But I sinned against you and the only way to be forgiven is to throw light on my faults."

"Couldn't you just ask G.o.d to forgive you?"

Angela smiled, a gentle, patient expression that nearly melted Regan's heart. She had the most beautiful smile when she showed this side of herself. This was the lovable, almost irresistible woman she'd fallen for. From that first day they'd met, this was the open, kind smile that drew her in. "I sinned against you, not G.o.d. It's your forgiveness that I need."

"So why did you have to tell everyone what happened?"

"For insurance. I swear I'll never be unfaithful again, but I broke that promise once. Having all of the most important people in my life know will help keep me honest. Having secrets is bad for me. I realize that now." A flicker of a smile showed. "I came out at work."

"No!"

"Yeah, I did. No more secrets."

Unable to hold back, Regan gave her a quick, heartfelt hug. "I'm proud of you."

Grinning almost girlishly, Angela said, "I'm proud of myself. I've made a lot of positive changes in the last few months, but I've barely started." She gazed deeply into Regan's eyes. "I want you to come home. You can quit your job and concentrate on getting pregnant."

Regan's eyes grew wide. "Quit my job?"

"Sure. I got a huge bonus this year. It's not quite what your salary is, but it's close." Her whole face lit up with excitement. "We can start our family, Regan. It's what we both wanted."

"Wait!" Regan stood, staring down at Angela. "What the h.e.l.l? You've been off doing all of this therapy but I'm still back at ayou broke my heart.'"

"But doing all of this shows you...shows you in concrete terms how much you mean to me."

Dropping back down onto the bench, Regan shook her head. "You're not listening to me. I still don't know why you slept with Marina."

Angela frowned, looking annoyed. "She's not involved in this. This is about you and me. We had problems that I ignored."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine, but you destroyed us by sleeping with her. Not some anonymous stranger. Something about her attracted you. You'd better figure out what that was. It's a complete mystery to me."

Now Angela stood and started to slowly walk around in front of Regan. Her hands were balled into fists, and she bristled with nervous energy. "None of that matters. What I did was wrong. I admit that. What's important is how we move forward."

"Not to me," Regan said firmly. "I want to know why you did it."

"I told you. I was out of town, I'd had a few drinks and Marina made it clear she wanted to get together. I don't have any better explanation."

"You need one." Regan stood up and faced Angela. "You slept with her for a year and a half. If you were drunk every time, you've got another problem to tackle." A bolt of pleasure crawled up her spine when Angela's composed expression collapsed. How did it feel to have the rug pulled out from under her?

Angela sat there for a minute, eyes blinking in surprise. But then her outsized personality shut every weakness down. "Why does that matter? A sin is a sin if it was once or a hundred times."

"That's not true. You admitted you did it once. Why hide if it wasn't important to hide?" Let her figure out a way to slither out of that one.

"It was too embarra.s.sing." She hung her head, looking ashamed. "I can't stand to admit how weak I was."

"You were very weak. And no matter what you claim, you'd d.a.m.n well better understand what made you cheat and continue to lie about it until this very minute. That's the only way you'll ever be completely faithful."

"Are you saying you'll give me another chance if I can do that?" Her eyes were filled with hope, and she looked so expectant that Regan felt like she was plunging a knife into her when she spoke her truth.

"No. We're through."

When Regan walked back into the restaurant her cheeks were flushed and it was fairly clear that she'd been crying. She'd been outside for almost twenty minutes and Callie was desperate to know what had happened. But the first thing Regan did was point at her sister Alana, then walk into a room to the left of the kitchen that Callie a.s.sumed was her office.

Sheila let out a soft whistle. "Alana's in for a b.u.t.t kicking."

"How's Alana involved?"

"She and Angela got to be pretty good friends. The only way Angela would have known to come here today was if someone had told her that we were having a party. Regan hates it when people get involved in her personal business, but that's never stopped Alana."

Alana and Regan were in the office for a long time, probably as long as Regan had been outside with Angela. When they finally emerged, they were both smiling, and Regan had her hand on her sister's shoulder. Everyone got fairly quiet and Regan stood on the step that led into the dining area so everyone could see her. "I'm sorry for all the drama, but everything's good. Now let's continue celebrating me." She flashed her warmest smile, and Callie felt her pulse pick up. She sat there for a second, trying to figure out why she felt flushed; then it hit her. It was Regan that was making her feel this way. There was something so attractive about her smile. Callie thought it was probably the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

When Regan sat down, Callie felt almost tongue-tied; that had never happened to her before with Regan. She managed to ask, "Are you really okay?"

Regan barely moved her head up and down. "I'll tell you all about it later." She offered a less luminous version of the smile, one that showed her pain.

They arrived back at Regan's while it was still light. Regan suggested they go for a stroll by the harbor, so they set out for the short walk. "I've never been to a real harbor," Callie said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"This is a real one." It seemed like those few words had been very difficult to get out. It was obvious Regan was hurting, but being so close to the ocean was so cool that Callie had a hard time staying quiet.

The air was deliciously tangy with salt. The moisture from the ocean took the heat from the day and magically made it disappear. Faded gray shingled houses lined the sh.o.r.e and, as they approached, the noise of the waves slapping against huge rocks grew louder.

The bright white lighthouse was the biggest thing in sight, and the setting sun made it glow as if from within.

Muted bells clanged in the distance and gulls swept over their heads, cawing loudly, like the soundtrack of a movie set in a small New England town. A small building sat at the end of the pier. It was a burnished, weathered gray, with signs and notices, announcements of every sort covering its walls. A very early version of the local internet. It was magical. Simply magical. Like finding Brigadoon.

Unable to stay quiet, Callie tried to get a smile out of her friend. "This is where I live now. This is exactly what I've always wanted. Water close by, boats, fishing, good air, and a big city just twenty minutes away. I'd trade with you in a second. Just like that," she said, acting like a used-car salesman. "You'd have your own room with a view of the building next door and the trash bins. A very nice man sleeps in the next room, and he's almost a doctor. If you ever need CPR in the middle of the night, think of how convenient that would be."

Regan slung an arm around Callie's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. "I think you should stop fantasizing about moving and start making plans. I'd really love to have you..." She stopped and her composure started to fracture. "I need someone to talk to." She put her arms around Callie and collapsed against her body. It took all of Callie's strength to get her feet centered so she could hold her up, but Callie held onto her tightly and tried to soothe her as she cried.

"She's done everything I wanted her to do when we were together. She went to therapy, she's learning how to talk about what bothers her. Everything. But it's too late. It's just too late, and that breaks my heart all over again."

Chapter Sixteen.

Callie was trying to figure out how to use the coffee maker when Regan stumbled out of her bedroom the next morning. "I've really got to get to work, but I'm dog tired. I don't think I slept ten minutes. Do I look as bad as I feel?"

Callie walked over and gave her a hug, then pulled back and moved Regan's dark hair around until it looked as neat as it always did. "You have the best hair. I've never known anyone with hair this straight. It falls right into place."

"Yeah, it does, as long as you don't mind it falling into the exact same place every single day."

"I think it's lovely. And you look just fine. Go take a shower and I'll have some coffee ready for you." She physically turned her and pushed her in the direction of her bedroom.

Regan came out about fifteen minutes later looking not much better. Her eyes were still bloodshot and red rimmed despite the shower. Callie handed her a cup of coffee. "What can I do for you today?"

"Nothing. I just wish I didn't look so bad. My sisters will be on me all day, and they won't buy my story when I tell them seeing Angela didn't bother me."

Callie plucked at a hank of Regan's hair, still wet from the shower. "Give me ten minutes and I can divert their attention."

A few minutes later, Regan was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, while Callie blew her hair dry. "You wanted to be a hair dresser?"

"It wasn't a driving need, but it was on my short list. I really like hair."

"Feels good." Regan leaned into her hand when Callie captured a fistful of strands and pulled them straight to let the air get to them all. "Helps my headache."

"I wish you could stay home."

"Me too. But I don't do that unless it's really necessary. I never get a mental health day. We've all agreed to only skip work when we're contagious, and I don't think they're as upset about Angela as I am."

Regan gave such a wan smile that Callie almost cried when she looked into her eyes, so filled with pain. She wanted to hold her, to stroke her back until she relaxed. Then take her back to bed and hold her until she felt better. But they didn't do that kind of thing. There were too many barriers to overcome. They were just friends. She tried to focus on their reality, putting all of her attention into styling Regan's hair. Using a comb, she pulled half of it back and held it. "I'm going to let the rest hang down." She put a band around the hair and then stood in front of her, arranging it just a little. "This looks really different, even though it's only a little change. You have such a great natural part that it works perfectly."

Regan got up and went into the bath, jutting her chin out as she moved her head a bit. "It does look good."