“She called me two weeks ago,” he confirmed. “She got the number from Arthur.”
“Then, you’ve known all along that I broke up with Robert!”
“All the time. From the beginning.”
“Yet you strung me along!”
“Ah! Revenge is sweet.”
“I’m sorry, Creighton,” she said remorsefully. “I’m sorry for treating you the way I did-for hurting you. Do you think you could forgive me?”
“Already done.” He kissed her again.
A thought occurred to her. “If you knew I had called off the wedding, why didn’t you come back sooner?”
He sighed. “I needed some time to myself, to collect my thoughts. So much had happened…”
“Vanessa,” she stated solemnly. “She’s dead, you know.”
He nodded. “I read about it. Suicide.”
“Did you know when you left?”
Again, he nodded. “After I confronted her about Nussbaum, I thought she might kill herself. Even if I had stayed I wouldn’t have been able to stop her. You understand why I didn’t call the police, don’t you? Her spirit was the only thing left that was free. I couldn’t let that be imprisoned as well.”
She hugged him. “I understand and I’m sorry, Creighton. I know you loved her.”
“I cared for her, but I didn’t love her. Not like I love you,” he smiled.
“But, you were going to marry her,” Marjorie countered.
“No, I wasn’t. In hindsight, my proposal was only a way for me to avoid being alone. Vanessa realized that and turned it down. But I lied about it that day in the park. I wanted to hurt you, the way I was hurting when you announced you were engaged to Robert. I lied about all the other things too. It has been fun being with you. In fact the past few months have been the happiest in my life.” His eyes twinkled. “Especially the gurney in Dr. Heller’s lab. Perhaps we can relive that for old time’s sake-only not in a morgue. I’ll ask the good doctor if he has a gurney or two to spare. We’ll bring it back here, climb underneath and…”
Marjorie put a finger to his lips and laughed.
“I missed you, Marjorie.”
“You missed me so much that you stayed away for three weeks,” she teased. “Traveling to … say, where did you go?”
“Oh, New York for a spell. Then Chicago, Miami, and finally New Orleans. I can happily report that they don’t eat opossum or squirrel.”
“Mm. Chicago, Miami, and New Orleans,” she repeated. “Quite a colorful itinerary for a man supposedly pining for the woman he loves.”
“`I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,” he declaimed, “`But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire, then falls thy shadow, Cynara, the night is thine, and I am desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara… ”’
“In your fashion,” Marjorie grinned. “Speaking of faithfulness, have you spoken to Sharon recently?”
Creighton brought a hand to his forehead. “Oh no! I knew I had forgotten something.”
“You’d better talk to her and explain your feelings. I saw her in the dressmaker’s shop the other day, looking at a bolt of white satin.”
He blanched. “White satin?”
“She seems to have some definite plans for you.”
“For me?”
Marjorie watched as his face went from white to red, and back to white again. She could no longer suppress her laughter.
“Oh, I see. Very funny.”
“You’re right;” she laughed, “revenge is sweet. In truthfulness, I wouldn’t worry about Sharon. She’s found someone to replace you.”
“You’re kidding. Who?”
“Robert”
“Robert?” He tilted his head back and chuckled. “Poor guy. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire!”
Marjorie took a step back and placed her hands on her hips. “What do you mean `frying pan’?”
Creighton blushed, “Oh, that’s-that’s just a jazz term I picked up in New Orleans. It means you’re so hot, you’re sizzling.”
“Nice save. I’ll let it go this time,” she said coolly, “but only because your explanation was so creative. Although, why I should be so nice to you is beyond me. After all, you brought a gift back for everyone but me.”
“Mmm … I kind of lied about that, too. I did bring something back for you, but it is rather small.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and with one deft motion, popped it open, revealing a marquis-cut diamond ring.
Marjorie gasped.
“This is why I stopped in New York,” Creighton explained. “I hope you like it. It’s two carats, flawless, and the setting is platinum.”
“Does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means `Will you marry me?”’
“I-I don’t know. It’s so sudden. I’ve only just broken my engagement with Robert. What will people say?”
“Do you care?”
“Yes … I mean no … I don’t know what I mean. I wasn’t expecting this. I need some time to think it over.”
“You can have all the time in the world, my darling,” he closed the box with the ring still inside. “I’ll be waiting.”
Marjorie frowned. “Why are you putting the ring away? Can’t I wear it while I’m deliberating?” she asked sheepishly.
“I don’t know. What will people think?” He quipped while he took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.
She held her hand out admiringly. “Then again, maybe I should take more time. Why, I don’t even know your birthday.”
“October 18,1901.”
“Or your middle name.”
“Yes you do. It was on the card I gave you when I met you. Not that you gave it a second thought.”
“Or your favorite color.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Green. Emerald green.”
She pressed her nose to his and smiled. “Or your childhood nickname.”
“You know that too, you stinker. You guessed it.”
Marjorie burst out laughing. “Wart! That really was your name?”
“Yes, it was. I told you, you’re too smart for your own good.” He started laughing too. “Now that that’s over with, and you know everything you could possibly want to know, would you care to join me for dinner?”
“I’d love to.”
“Very well.” The rain having ended, Creighton collapsed his umbrella and scooped Marjorie into his arms. “This way, Mrs. Ashcroft,” he declared as he carried her off toward the house.
She slid an arm around his shoulders and giggled despite herself. “I accepted your proposal for dinner. I didn’t say I accepted your proposal for marriage.”
“No, but you will,” Creighton answered confidently. “You will.”
Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance Page 25
