From Here to There Read Online Free Page A

pretense. She could feel the anger in his body, knew this day must be demanding an effort from him as great as for her. None of it was his fault and she felt sorry for what she had done to him. The pretense had to be stretching his control to nearly the breaking point, but then control had always been Phillip's specialty, and she stopped feeling sorry for him. He would be all right. They would both face down the rumors and laughter at the strange end to their short marriage. Someday they might even come together as friends and laugh about this time. Although looking up into his sternly set face, the stormy eyes, she doubted that would be any day soon.
     She and Phillip filled plates from the buffet table only because her mother insisted. They sat at a table, sipped on champagne and tried to pretend they were gazing into each other's eyes. "God," he whispered, as much to himself as to her, "I can't remember a worst day in my life... and that is going some."
     "Do you think I'm happy?" she hissed, taking another sip of champagne.
     "I hope you're not, you little bitch," he murmured, leaning toward her and smiling as he took her hand in his, his fingers stroking her palm in a way that was causing a tingling throughout her body. "I can't believe what you’ve put me through." His expression hardened. "And worse is what's yet to be."
     "You seem so upset by what people might think. Tell me, what's more disturbing," she asked, taking a grip on his hair that forced his head down where her lips could pretend to nuzzle his ear, "the blow to your heart or your ego?"
     She heard him suppress a yelp as she nipped his earlobe. "You do that again," he threatened in an undertone," and you'll find how little I really care what people think."
     "If you don't care, why are we pretending like this?" she asked, leaning back and smiling sweetly, her voice an icy counterpoint to the sweet expression on her face.
     "Because I won't let anybody make a fool out of me, and you've come too damned close for comfort," he growled back, the champagne glass raised, then drained.
     Michelle and Tiffany rushed up to grasp Helene's arms, pulling her up from her chair. "Time to throw the bouquet," they chorused in unison.
     "Ah yes," Phillip said, rising himself, "for the next--lucky bride."
     Helene glared at him, then followed her friends, who had already retrieved the bouquet and were leading her to an outside porch. She pressed the bouquet to her nose, smelling the sweet fragrance of the lilies, daisies and carnations. It wasn't a typical pattern of flowers for a bridal bouquet or so her mother had informed her, but the lilies and daisies represented the high country of Montana and the carnations were for the scent she always associated with Aunt Rochelle. Her mother had argued orchids would last longer, but it was one area where Helene had held out for her own way. Now it was time to part with the bouquet as she was parting with her dreams and hopes.
     Swallowing she looked out beyond the giggling girls and saw Phillip seemingly negligently leaning one shoulder against a wall, staring into his refilled champagne glass. She felt a surge of pain for what she'd done to him, the humiliation she'd was bringing him. Blocking such thoughts, she smiled artificially and tossed the bouquet, not looking to see who caught it, temporarily blinded by tears as she turned away.
     Uncle Amos put his arm around her shoulders. "Weddings are sentimental creations. Don't know why people want 'em. Always make everybody cry."
     She smiled up at him, grateful for his light words. "You know me," she said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief he offered, "Always crying at the least little thing."
     Amos smiled at her, then up at Phillip as he sauntered slowly toward them. "He's a good man," he whispered into her ear. "It's probably hard for you both right now, starting a new life, all the pressures of a big wedding, but I think you're going to be as happy together