Free Regret Not a Moment by Nicole McGehee Page A

words. She did not mean to hurt Devon. Helena thought of Devon as a superior being and did not realize that she was even capable of inflicting pain on her. In her excitement, she simply spoke the words that entered her head:
    “And I really have no reason to be jealous of you,” said Helena. “Now I have something you don’t. I’m married and you’re not. I’m married to a man who used to court you.”
    Devon was startled by Helena’s bluntness, but the real shock came from the words themselves. “You’re right,” Devon said in a stunned voice. After all, Helena did have something Devon wanted. Each night when Helena went to bed, she slept beside the man she loved. They had done things Devon could only imagine, only long for. In addition, Devon knew that some people pitied her because she was still single. Helena’s place in society was ensured by virtue of her marriage. She could attend any event she wished, whether or not she was escorted by her husband, simply because she was married. Like a swift blow that took the wind out of her, the realization that her good looks and self-confidence meant nothing to the outside world shook Devon to her very core. She did not feel pitiable. She was not pitiable, yet society was making her so. Society and her own desires, which she saw no means of assuaging.
    “I just won’t be jealous anymore,” Helena continued decisively. Then, laughing in relief, she said, “It’s created an awful mess, hasn’t it? Besides, I do have Brent. He’s mine now and I don’t suppose I need trouble myself beyond that.” Helena had new resolve in her voice.
    “No… no… you should never worry about that,” replied Devon, but her voice was vague, as though her thoughts were far away.
    “And I’ve been selfish taking up so much of your time when you’re still recovering. Why, you seem positively exhausted!” With a new briskness to her movements, Helena leaned down, kissed Devon on the cheek, and bade her farewell.
    Alone again, Devon burrowed deep into her pillows and tiredly pulled the covers up around her neck. She felt drained. She needed to rest. But she could not rest because replaying itself over and over in her mind was the realization that life’s vivid promise, its glories, could remain closed to her. It was a possibility she had never before considered.

CHAPTER 9
    GRACE Richmond Des Rochers had a first name which suited her not at all. Devon’s older sister had none of the cool serenity implied by her given name. She was all vivid theatricality and prankishness. She was not a relaxing person to be around, as her nonstop chatter came in a steady stream of witticisms that could easily slip by listeners who were less than alert. In fact, there were many who had warned her husband, Philip, that she was “too chatty” for the role of diplomat’s wife. But she had used her talent with words to grasp quickly the languages of the countries to which her husband was posted and, with her ability to converse with anyone on any subject, had proved an asset after all.
    Devon and Grace were the best of friends and kept in constant touch with long, revealing letters to each other. Both regretted that the career of Grace’s husband made their visits so infrequent, yet both knew that Grace was perfectly suited to the life of constant travel and new faces.
    But when Grace heard of Devon’s accident, she rushed home from Paris as quickly as possible, and now, after a train ride, an Atlantic crossing, and another train ride, she descended on Evergreen in a whirlwind.
    After embracing her parents and inquiring after their health, Grace demanded to see Devon. The Richmonds were eager for a reunion of the sisters, certain that Grace’s presence would act as a tonic to the convalescent. They worried that Helena’s visit, two days before, had sapped Devon of her energy. She had seemed in low spirits ever since. But when they asked if she was feeling well, she insisted that she was. Dr.