Free Golden Vows by Karen Toller Whittenburg

obstinate little boy, I knew he belonged to me in a special way. And I knew when he brought you to meet me that you belonged too. Children of my heart, Amanda. That’s how I feel about you and Dane.” Martha curved thick fingers around the arms of the rocker and pinched her mouth tightly over her emotions. “I hurt for you,” she said after a moment. “For both of you.”
    The bittersweet reminiscing slipped from her grasp and Amanda faced numbing reality again. “I know, Martha. I just don’t know what to say, except that I believe the hard part is over. From now on it’s just a matter of adjustment.”
    “Adjustment.” Martha repeated the word with a shake of her head. Her green eyes assessed Amanda and looked away as if to conceal her skepticism. “Do you still love him, Amanda?”
    Amanda’s hand jerked slightly and coffee sloshed to the edge of the cup and splashed onto her skirt. In a sort of panicky indecision she grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the stain, but her efforts were as futile as her wish to escape an answer to the question.
    Slowly she laid the napkin aside and raised uncertain blue eyes to Martha. “I don’t know how to answer that,” she said. “How can I deny something that has been a part of me for so long? How can I say I don’t love him anymore when something inside me aches with the very thought of him? We shared some exquisite moments, a thousand intimate details of life. We had a son.” She closed her eyes against the memory and released her emotion on a sigh. “Yes, I still love Dane. But, Martha, I just don’t have the will to love him anymore.”
    “Amanda, I....” The desire to understand glistened in her eyes as Martha searched for something to say. The shrill tone of the telephone jarred the silence once and then again before Martha rose to answer. With her hand on the receiver she turned to Amanda. “This will be Dane,” she said evenly. “He calls every night to check on me.”
    The phone rang again and Martha lifted it to her ear. “Hello? ... Yes, Dane.... Yes, fine. We’re all fine. Have you eaten? ... Well, you should be glad you weren’t here to see what Mr. MacGregor tried to pass off as dinner. I could hardly swallow a bite….”
    Amanda concealed her acute interest in eavesdropping by turning her head and pretending to study a speck of dust on the coffee table. She knew her every movement was watched and evaluated by Martha, but it didn’t really matter. The rapid flutter of her pulse and the stirring of excitement within her could be hidden from view, but Amanda knew and recognized their import.
    Dane was near. She could feel his presence, knew the husky resonance of his voice was only an insignificant distance from her ear. In her imagination she crossed the room and took the phone from Martha’s hand. Dane? This is Amanda, she would say as if he wouldn’t know. How are you? Are you at the office or at home?
    No, she shouldn’t mention home. That was too intimate ... too much “theirs.”
    I’ve redecorated the cottage. You should come to see it.
    But he wouldn’t.
    Do you go out much? Do you ever see any of our old friends?
    She couldn’t just casually toss that into the conversation.
    Have you been sailing, Dane? It’s beautiful weather for sailing, isn’t it?
    No, too impersonal.
    Dane? You’ve been in my thoughts all evening. I miss you.
    No. No, she couldn’t say something so revealing ... so personal ... so inadequate.
    Amanda licked dry lips at the realization that there was nothing to say after she said hello. More than anything, at the moment, she wanted to hear his voice. But then what? Awkward silence? Or, worse, a forced effort to keep the tone of the conversation friendly?
    With grudging acceptance she picked up the threads of Martha’s chatter, knowing that eavesdropping was as close as Dane would be to her tonight.
    “You know better than that, Dane Cameron Maxwell.” Martha punctuated the words with a scolding click of her