From Here to There Read Online Free

her, a relationship she didn't want, with a man she barely knew. What had possessed her? Where was her personal strength? She had to find the answer to that... as soon as she ended this mock marriage. She had to be certain she would never again make such a horrendous mistake that would hurt so many people.
     Emile cut in and danced her away, his arms strong around her. "Happy?" he asked, smiling down at her.
     "Why wouldn’t I be," she equivocated.
     "Then smile like you mean it." His eyes darkened with concern. "What am I going to tell Nancy when she asks if you found what she and I did?"
     Helene wouldn't tell him the truth anymore than she would her father.  Before he could ask more questions, questions she didn't have answers for, Helene asked the one thing she knew would distract him. "How is your sweet lady?"
     The reminder of his pregnant wife waiting back in Montana caused Emile's eyes to grow soft and heavy, his smile to broaden. Before he had finished telling how Nancy was, Helene saw with relief Uncle Amos coming across the floor toward them, his short, angular body cutting through the other dancers, then he was touching his son's shoulder and claiming her.
     "You make a pretty bride," he said swinging her into his arms.
     "Thank you, kind sir."
     "I know Chelle is looking down from heaven right now and happy as punch for you."
     Helene fought back the tears. "I hope so," she said.
     "What's wrong, baby?"
     She looked up into his homely but loveable face. "Just a little teary when I think about Aunt Rochelle."
     "She would have loved being here today, seeing you all growed up and beautiful."
    She managed a smile.
     "She'd also have also known something is wrong. What is it?"
     Before she could answer, Phillip had reclaimed her from her uncle's arms, his hand steady against the small of her back, his face stern as he drew her against him, pulling her into the rhythm of the music and his body. He said nothing, his face stony. She felt a sorrow at what might have been, how this dance might have been for a couple who loved each other and for just a moment, she let herself melt against him, let herself be caught up in the music, the feel of a strong man's arms around her, the smell of his cologne, the texture of his suit, the hard muscle beneath it all. For just a moment, she let herself forget.
     When the song ended, her mother was taking both their hands. "You must cut the cake now, children," she said smiling brightly as she led them to the long white table where a huge cake resided.
     The cake was iced with exotic flowers, its white frosting accented with blue and lavender blossoms. "Where?" Phillip asked, clearing his throat as he looked at the mammoth cake.
     Florence handed him the knife. "Just put your hands together."
     Helene saw the flash of the photographer's camera as their hands came together and cut down through the cake. Phillip's hand beneath hers was finely manicured, long-fingered, his tanned skin smooth to her touch. The plain, golden wedding bands seemed a glaring contrast to the thoughts in her mind as they cut a piece of cake and set it onto a plate.
     "Now feed each other," Florence ordered, smiling and clasping her hands together as the photographer repositioned himself.
     Helene took a deep breath and looked up into Phillip's eyes. For the first time, she saw pain mingled with smoldering anger. Smiling almost sadly, she took a piece of the cake and reached up to put it in his mouth. She felt his lips close over her fingers, caressing them as she pulled free. His own hand reached down and slowly fed her a piece of the cake, his fingers lingering on her lips before he looked away.
     "Smile for the camera," the photographer directed, pointing the lens toward them.
     Phillip's smile was wolfish as he pulled Helene against him and stared into the lens, his thoughts hidden behind those brilliant blue eyes. Helene could only wonder how much longer they could keep up this