He laughed coldly. "To replace a husband?"
"It won't be hard to replace a husband who won't even sleep with me...!" She stopped dead, cold, as she realized that the door was standing open and Betty was right there, listening.
Her abrupt cessation of conversation and her horrified gaze caused him to turn, too.
Betty wasn't even embarrassed. She smiled victoriously. "I was looking for a bathroom. Sorry if I interrupted anything."
"The bathroom's down the hall, as you know, third door on the right," Hank said shortly.
"Thank you, darling." Her eyes swept over the suitcases and Dana's pale face, and she smiled again as she left them.
Hank's face had no expression in it at all. Dana picked up her suitcase. "I'll take this with me. If you wouldn't mind, could you have one of the men drop off the rest of my things? I've still got my Bronco in the garage, I hope?"
"I haven't done anything with it."
"Thanks."
She walked past him. He caught her arm, feeling the stiffness, the tension in her.
His breath was warm at her temple. "Don't," he said through his teeth.
She couldn't afford to weaken, to be caught up in some sordid triangle. Betty wanted him, and he'd always loved her and made no secret of it. Dana was an extra person in his life. She didn't fit.
Her dark blue eyes lifted to his brown ones. "Pity isn't a good reason to marry. Neither is breaking a will. You don't love me, any more than I love you," she added, lying through her teeth, because she'd always loved him. Her eyes lowered, "I don't want to stay here anymore."
His hand dropped her arm as if it was diseased. "Get out, then, if that's what you want. I never would have married you in the first place except that I felt sorry for you."
Her face was even paler now. "And there's the way you feel about your ex-wife," she returned.
He stared at her blithely. "Yes. There's Betty."
It hurt to hear him admit it. She went past him without looking up. Her body was shaking, her heart was bursting inside her. She didn't want to leave but she had no choice, it had been made for her. Even as she went down the staircase, she could hear Betty's softly questioning voice as she spoke to Hank.
Dana headed for the front door, and a voice called to her from the living room.
"Good Lord, you aren't leaving, are you?" Bob asked, aghast. "Not because of us?"
She stared at him without expression. "Yes, I'm leaving. You're as much a victim as I am, I guess," she said.
His mouth opened to refute it, and the sadness in his eyes killed the words. He shrugged and laughed shortly. "I guess I am. But I've lived with it for ten years, with taking Betty away from Hank with my checkbook. Funny how life pays you back for hurting other people. You may get what you want, but then you have to live with it. Some choices carry their own punishment."
"Don't they just?" she replied. "So long."
"She doesn't really want him," he said softly, so that his voice didn't carry. "She wants a way to live as high as we used to, on an unlimited budget. I've lost my bankroll so I've become ex-pendable. It's his money she wants, not the man. Don't give up if you love him."
She lifted her chin. "If he loved me, I'd stay, I'd fight her to my last breath," Dana replied. "But he doesn't. I'm not brave enough to have my heart torn out by the roots every day of my life, knowing that he looks at me and wants her."
Bob winced.
"That's what you've done for ten years, isn't it?" she continued perceptively. "You're much braver than I am, Mr. Collins. I guess you love her so much that it doesn't matter."
"It isn't love," he said coldly, with the most utter self-contempt she'd ever heard in a man's voice.
She sighed. The needs of men were alien and inexplicable to her. "I guess we're both out of luck." She glanced toward the staircase with eyes that grew dark with pain. "What a fool I was to come here. He told me he had nothing to give me. Nothing except wealth. What an empty, empty life it would have been."
Bob Collins scowled. "Money means nothing to you, does it?" he asked, as if he couldn't comprehend a woman wanting a poor man.
She looked at him. "All I wanted was for him to love me," she said. "There's no worse poverty than to be bereft of that, from the only person you care about in the world." She made a little face and turned away. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Collins."
He watched her go, watched the door close, like the lid on a coffin. Oh, you fool, he thought, you fool Hank, to give up a woman who loves you like that!
Dana settled back into her house without any great difficulty, except that now she missed more than just her father. She missed Hank. He hadn't been home much, probably because he was avoiding her, but at least he'd given her the illusion of belonging somewhere.
She looked at her bare hands as she washed dishes. She'd left the rings behind, both of them, on her dresser. She wondered if he'd found them yet. She had no reason to wear wedding rings when she wasn't a wife anymore. Hank had married her because he didn't want Betty to know how he felt about her. But his ex-wife was so eager to have him back that a blind man could see it. He'd never made any secret of his feelings for Betty. What an irony, that his wife should come back now, of all times, when Dana might have had some little chance to win his heart. Betty had walked in and taken him over, without a struggle. She wondered if she could ever forget the look in Hank's dark eyes when he'd stared at his ex-wife with such pain and longing. He still loved her. It was impossible not to know it. He might have enjoyed sleeping with Dana, but even so, he'd never shown any great desire to repeat the experience.
She put away the dishes and went to watch the evening news. Her father had liked this time of the day, when he was through with work, when they'd had a nice meal and he could sit with his coffee and listen to the news. He and Dana would discuss the day's events and then turn off the television and read. She'd missed that at Hank's elegant house. It was empty and cold. The television was in his study, not in the living room, and she'd never felt comfortable trespassing in there to watch it. She had none of her own favorite books, and his were all about horses and livestock and genetics. He read biographies, too, and there were some hardcover bestsellers that looked as if they'd never been opened at all.
Hank didn't make time to read for pleasure, she supposed. Most of his material seemed to be business-related.
She curled up in her father's armchair with tears stinging her eyes. She hadn't given way to tears in all the time she'd been married, and she wasn't going to cave in now, either, but she felt entitled to express a little misery while there was no one to see her.
She dabbed at tears, wondering why Hank had tried to stop her from leaving since he'd said he didn't want her anymore. Maybe it was the thought of ending their brief marriage so soon. It would be hard on the pride of a man like that to have failed more than once as a husband.
After a while, she got up and turned on a movie. It was one she'd seen half a dozen times but she only wanted the noise for company. She had to consider what she was going to do for the rest of her life. At this point, she was certain that she couldn't go on trying to keep the wolf from the door while she fought to maintain the small cattle ranch. She didn't have the working capital, the proper facilities or the money to trade for more livestock. The best way to go would be to just sign the whole thing over to Hank before it bankrupted her, and use the trust fund her mother had given her to pay for a college education. With that, she could find a job and support herself. She wouldn't need help from anyone; least of all from a reluctant husband. There was no alimony in Texas, but Hank had a conscience and he'd want to provide for her after the divorce. She wanted to be able to tell him she didn't want it.
Her plans temporarily fixed in her mind, she turned her attention to the movie. It was nice to have things settled.
Hayden Grant didn't have anything settled, least of all his mind. He was on the way to Corpus Christi with Bob and Betty, only half listening to the radio as
he followed behind the couple, they in their Mercedes, he in his Lincoln.
He could have gone in the car with them; something he thought Betty was secretly hoping for. But he wanted to be alone. His ex-wife had fouled everything up with her untimely reappearance. Her taunts had caused him to be cruel to Dana, who'd had nothing from him except pain. He'd forced her into marriage whether she wanted it or not, seduced her in a fever of desire, and then brought her home and literally ignored her for two weeks. Looking back, he couldn't explain his own irrational behavior.
Since the night he'd been with Dana, his only thought had been of how sweet it was to make love to her. He hadn't dreamed that he could want anyone so much. But his feelings had frightened him because they were so intense, and he'd withdrawn from her. Betty's intervention had been the coup de grace, putting a wall between himself and Dana.
But desire wasn't the only thing he felt for his young wife, and for the first time he had to admit it. He remembered Dana at the age of sixteen, cuddling a wounded puppy that some cruel boy had shot with a rifle and crying with anger as she insisted that Hank drive her to the vet's. The puppy had died, and Hank had comforted the young girl whose heart sounded as if it might break. Dana had always been like that about little, helpless things. Her heart embraced the whole world. How could he have hurt her so, a woman like that?
He groaned out loud. He wondered if he'd lost his reason with Betty's return. He'd dreaded it because he thought he was still in love with Betty. He wasn't. He knew it quite suddenly when he saw Dana with tears in her eyes and her suitcase in her hand. Dana had lived with him for two weeks, and he hadn't even touched her since their wedding night. He thought of it with incredulity. Now he realized what his behavior had masked. He'd been afraid of falling so deeply in love with her that it would be as it had been with Betty. Except that Dana wasn't mercenary. She wanted him, and seemed to be ashamed of feeling that way. But she had a tender heart, and she'd cared about him. If he'd tried, he might have made her love him. The thought, once dreaded, was now the essence of heaven.
It was too late, though. He'd let her leave and he wouldn't be able to get her back. He'd lost her. What the hell was he doing driving to Corpus Christi with two people he didn't even like?
As he thought it, he realized that they were already driving into its city limits. It was too late to turn back now. He'd do what he'd promised, he thought, but after that, he was going home to Dana. Whatever it took, he was going to get her back.
If only it had been that easy. They'd no sooner gotten out of the car at the Collins's white brick mansion when Bob groaned and then fell. He died right there on the green lawn before the ambulance could get to him, despite Hank's best efforts to revive him. He'd had another stroke.
Betty went to pieces and Hank found himself in the ironic position of arranging a funeral for his ex-wife's second husband and his former friend.
Back home, Dana heard about Bob Collins's death; it was all over the radio. He'd been a prominent man in the state's poultry industry and was well-known and liked. His funeral was very big and many important people attended it. Dana saw newspaper clippings of Hank supporting the grieving widow. She couldn't imagine that cold-eyed woman grieving for her husband. If Betty was crying, it was because Bob's life insurance policy had probably lapsed.
Dana chided herself for her uncharitable thoughts and threw the newspaper into the trash. Well, one thing was certain, Hayden Grant would be asking for a divorce so that he could remarry the woman he really loved. If Betty was what he wanted, he should have her. Dana remembered what she'd said to Bob Collins about not wanting to eat her heart out for the rest of her life with a man who wanted someone else. Poor Bob, who'd done exactly that, steadfastly, for ten long years. Dana offered a silent prayer for him. At least now perhaps he would have peace.
Two long weeks passed, with no word from Hank. The next morning, Dana went to see the family lawyer and asked him to initiate divorce proceedings. It would mean dipping into her small trust fund to pay for it, but that didn't matter. She wanted Hank to be happy.
"This isn't wise," the attorney tried to advise her. "You've been upset and so has he. You should wait, think it over."
She shook her head. "I've done all the thinking I care to. I want the deeds made up for my signature and delivered to Hank, along with the divorce papers. I'm throwing in the towel. Betty's free now and Hank deserves a little happiness. God knows he's waited long enough to get her back."
The attorney winced as he looked at the vulnerable, pale woman sitting in front of him. She'd suffered, judging by the thinness of her face and those terrible shadowed blue eyes. He couldn't imagine a man crazy enough to turn down a love that violent and selfless. But if she was right, that's exactly what Hayden Grant had already done. He sighed inwardly. Talk about throwing gold away in favor of gloss! Some men just didn't know their luck.
"I'll have everything ready by tomorrow morning. You're absolutely sure?"
She nodded.
"Then consider it done."
She thanked him and went home. The house was very empty and she felt the same. There would be a new life ahead of her. She was closing a very firm door on the old one, starting tomorrow. That thought was fixed firmly in her mind until the morning came and she began to throw up as if she were dying. She made it to the attorney's office to sign the papers, but she was too sick to travel.
Fearful that she had some virus that would prevent her plans to move, she made an appointment to see Dr. Lou Coltrain, a newly married member of the local medical community.
Lou examined her, asked pertinent questions and began to whistle softly while Dana looked at her with horror.
"It must have been some wedding night," Lou said, tongue in cheek, "because you've only been married a month and I know Hayden Grant. He wouldn't have touched you until the ring was in place."
"Lou, you're awful!" Dana groaned, flushing.
"Well, I'm right, too." She patted the younger woman on the shoulder. "It's two weeks too early for tests to tell us anything positive. Come back then. But meanwhile, you watch what medications you take and get plenty of rest, because I've seen too many pregnancies to mistake one. Congratulations."
"Thanks. But you, uh, won't tell anyone, right?" Dana asked gently.
"Your secret is safe with me." The doctor chuckled. "Want to surprise him, I guess?"
"That's right," Dana said immediately, thinking what a surprise it would have been.
"Come back and see me in two weeks," Lou repeated, "and I'll send you to Jack Howard up in Victoria. He's the best obstetrician I know, and it's a lot closer than Houston."
"Thanks, Lou."
"Anytime."
Dana went home in a cloud of fear and apprehension and joy. She was almost certainly pregnant, and her marriage was in tatters. But she knew what she was going to do. First she had to find her way to Houston, get an apartment and find a job. She'd handed the deeds to her father's property and the divorce petition over to the attorney for disposition. Presumably, he'd have already forwarded them to Hank in Corpus Christi in care of the bereaved Mrs. Collins. She'd burned her bridges and there was no going back.
Unaware of what was going on in Corpus Christi, Dana set out for Houston the next morning, painfully working out a future without Hank while a tall man with shocked dark eyes was served a divorce petition and cursed her until he went hoarse.
Hank jerked up the phone, oblivious to Betty's shocked stare, and dialed the phone number of the attorney, who was also a friend of his.
"Luke, what the hell's going on?" he demanded, shaking the divorce papers at the receiver. "I didn't ask her for the deeds to the ranch, and I sure as hell don't remember asking for a divorce!"
"There, there, old fellow, calm down," Luke said firmly. "She said it was the best thing for both of you. Besides, you're going back to Betty anyway."
"I am?" he asked, shocked.
"That's what Dana told me. See
here, Hank, you're throwing over a good woman. She never thought of herself once. It was what you wanted, what you needed to make you happy that she considered when she arranged all this. She said it would give you a head start on all the happiness you'd missed out on ten years ago, and she was glad for you."
"Glad for me." He looked at the papers and glanced irritably at Betty, who'd been practicing bereavement for two weeks while trying to entangle Hank in her web again. She hadn't succeeded. He was untangling Bob's finances for her, and they were in one major mess. It had taken time he didn't want to spend here, but for Bob's sake he'd managed it. Now he only wanted to go home and reclaim his wife, but he was holding proof that she didn't want to be reclaimed.
"She knew you'd be happy to have the matter dealt with before you came back," he continued. "Listen, if you don't contest the divorce—and why should you, right?—I can get it through in no time."
Hank hesitated, breathing deliberately so that he wouldn't start swearing at the top of his lungs. The words on the pages blurred in his sight as he remembered the last time he'd seen Dana. He mentally replayed the cruel, hateful things he'd said to her. No wonder she was divorcing him. She didn't know how he felt; he'd never told her. She thought he hated her. What a laugh!
"Can you hold it back for a few weeks?" he asked the attorney. "I've got some things to untangle down here for Bob's widow, and I can't get back home for a week, possibly longer."
"I can, but she won't like it," Luke said.
"Don't tell her."
"Hank..."
“Don't tell her,'' he repeated. ''Leave it alone until I get back."
There was a heavy sigh. "If she asks me, point-blank, I won't lie to her."
"Then make sure she doesn't have the opportunity to ask you."
"I'll try."
"Thanks."
He hung up. He felt sick. God, what a mess he'd made of his life!
Betty sidled close and leaned against his arm, wearing a wispy negligee. "Poor old dear, is she leaving you?" she asked softly. "I'm sorry. Why don't you come upstairs with me and I'll kiss you better?"
Books By Diana Palmer Page 143
