If Ever I Loved You

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Gina cringed inside at the thought of what she must do, but it couldn't be put off. Now was the time. Stewart had brought up the subject of marriage and had given her the perfect opening.

  She took a quick breath and began. "Stewart, I—"

  He hugged her hard and then released her. "I know, baby, I promised I wouldn't rush you into marriage. I am going to hurry you about eating though. I'm starved. We have reservations for seven o'clock at the Steak & Lobster and it's at least a half-hour drive up that winding coast highway, so get a move on."

  He laughed and Gina ducked into the bedroom to pick up her shawl. He was in a good mood. The least she could do was let him enjoy his dinner before she clobbered him.

  The restaurant was situated on a bluff overlooking the ocean, and both the food and the scenery were outstanding. They ordered lobster and were given huge bibs that tied around their necks to protect their clothes when they dipped the succulent white chunks of meat into small pots of warm melted butter that often dripped as they raised it to their mouths.

  As though by mutual consent they kept the conversation light. Stewart talked about the letter he'd received from his honeymooning daughter and Gina told him of the highly profitable two weeks she'd had at the gallery. Later they danced to the music of the four-piece combo and he told her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted to make her his own. It was then that she asked him to take her home.

  It was about eleven o'clock when they arrived back at her apartment and Gina poured them each double portions of Scotch over ice. Stewart raised one speculative eyebrow and grinned. "What are you trying to do, sweetheart, get us both bombed? After ail that wine with dinner and now this I may wind up sleeping on your couch tonight. That is unless you'd rather I shared your bed."

  Gina sat down at the other end of the couch from him. "I have to talk to you, Stewart," she said.

  He chuckled. "About sharing your bed? If you ask me nicely I think I could be persuaded." He held out his hand to her. "What are you doing way over there? Come here and let me show you what a nice bed partner I could be."

  She moved to sit closer to him, but when he tried to take her in his arms she resisted. "Please, Stewart, I'm serious."

  His teasing tone immediately vanished and he looked at her with a wariness he made no attempt to hide. "I'm sorry, Gina," he said quietly. "I didn't realize. Tell me about it."

  Before she could lose her nerve Gina removed the stunning diamond ring from the third finger of her left hand and looked at it as she held it in her palm. "I'm returning your ring. I—I can't marry you. I'm sorry."

  She had expected arguments, recriminations, almost anything but the total silence that followed. Finally, when the quiet seemed to close in on her, she raised her head and looked at him. There was a veiled expression in his eyes and she knew he had successfully masked whatever emotion he might have been feeling.

  He watched her for a moment then said, "It's Peter Van Housen, isn't it?"

  She looked away again. "I—I'm married to him and he's contesting the divorce. He told me yesterday. It may be a long time until I'm free."

  "By free do you mean you're going ahead with the dissolution?" He sounded like a disinterested bystander.

  "Of course, but he intends to fight it every step of the way. He has a lot of money, he can hire the best lawyers and it may be months, years even, before I can get a hearing."

  Stewart took a gulp of his whiskey. "I have a lot of money too, and I'm not without influence. I can hire lawyers who are just as smart as his, and I will if you're truly serious about wanting out of the marriage."

  She gripped the ring in her fist. "I can't let you do that."

  Again there was silence, broken at last by Stewart's voice, tender this time. "Look at me, Gina." She lifted her gaze to his and he asked, "Are you still in love with him?"

  She dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unconsciously appealing gesture. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I don't want to be. He doesn't love me, he told me so. He let me down badly when I desperately needed his love and trust. It would be sheer folly for me to fall in love with him again. Even so I can't help responding to him."

  She saw it then, the sharp stab of agony that flicked across his face and made him cringe. Without thinking she uttered a little cry of compassion and moved into his arms.

  He held her close and she buried her face in the curve between his shoulder and throat. "Oh, Stewart," she moaned softly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you this way. I really do love you, you know."

  For a few minutes he just held her and didn't try to talk, but finally, when he did speak his voice was under control. "I know how you feel about me, baby. I've never kidded myself that you loved me the way I love you. It would have been enough for me because I wanted you on any terms I could get you, but not if you're in love with another man."

  The tears she'd been fighting to hold back brimmed over and spilled down her cheeks and onto his shirt as she sobbed. "I wish I'd met you first."

  He rubbed his bearded cheek against her temple. "Even if you had it wouldn't have worked for us. Remember, I'm almost as old as your father. When you were eighteen I was in my middle thirties and had a wife and teenage daughter not much younger than you. You wouldn't have given me a second thought."

  He fumbled in his back pocket and handed her a white linen handkerchief. "Don't cry for me, Gina," he said as he Sifted her away from him. "Save your tears, you're going to need them for yourself if you let Peter Van Housen back in your life again."

  He stood and put on his suit coat while Gina dried her eyes and blew her nose. She balled the handkerchief in her hand and got up feeling awkward and uneasy. How was she going to handle the good-byes?

  Stewart did it for her. He dropped his hands on her shoulders and said, "You're welcome to keep the ring. I have no use for it."

  It was only then that she remembered she still held it and raised her closed fist palm up. She opened her fingers slowly and gazed at the glittering stone. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten I still had it. Maybe that says something to both of us, Stewart. It's a sign that I find it hard to give you up, and for that reason I must not keep it. It—it has to be a final break, for both our sakes."

  He took it from her and shoved it in his pocket. "Perhaps you're right." He put his arm around her waist and led her to the door.

  He turned toward her then and put his other arm around her, holding her loosely against him. "Good luck, my darling."

  His lips touched hers for just a moment and then he was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Shortly after lunch on Friday, as Gina sat at the desk in her cramped little office off the main room of the gallery trying to balance her checkbook, the phone rang. It was Peter. She'd have known his voice anywhere, and if her ear hadn't there were other parts of her anatomy that did, including her heart. It seemed to leap within her and then started pounding at an appalling speed.

  Her thoughts went back seven years when she had experienced exactly the same reaction every time he'd telephoned her. She would wait impatiently for a call, then race to answer the phone when it rang and close her eyes, the better to savor every nuance of that incredibly sexy voice that sent a wave of pure ecstasy washing through her pulsating young body.

  The wave was back again and she clenched the receiver like a lifeline to keep from being drowned in emotions she would not, dared not, experience again.

  Peter must have misunderstood her silence because he rushed to fill it with words. "Please, Gina, don't hang up. What I have to say is important."

  He sounded alarmed, as though he would go to any lengths to keep her on the other end of the line.

  She pressed her hand to her fluttering stomach and answered. "I have no intentions of hanging up, but I am busy. I hope we can keep this conversation short."

  "I'm sorry if I've caught you at a bad time," he apologized, "but I've promised my sister Lillian's two kids that I'd take them to Fort Bragg this
weekend to ride the Skunk Train and we'd like for you to come with us."

  "Lilly's children?" Gina was confused. "But they're just babies!"

  Peter chuckled and some of the tension vanished from his tone. "Not anymore they're not. Sonja's eight and Johnny's ten and they're a handful. I need help in shepherding the two little brats. Come on, be a good sport and help me play nursemaid tomorrow."

  Gina couldn't believe that the youngsters who had been a babe in arms and a toddler could have grown so fast. But then, it hadn't been fast at all. It had been seven long lonely, painful years since she'd last seen them on her wedding day. It was hard to believe that time hadn't stopped for everybody the way it had for her.

  Fortunately she didn't have to make up an excuse, she had one that couldn't be disputed. "Peter, I can't go anywhere tomorrow, Saturday's one of our busiest days at the gallery."

  "Surely you have employees," he observed.

  "Yes, of course, I have an assistant, but Peg and I are both kept busy on the weekends."

  Peter hesitated. "Sundays too?"

  Gina was relieved to be able to tell him yes, Sundays too.

  He began to sound annoyed. "You're not going to make me believe that you spend all your time in that shop. What days do you have off?"

  Now she was caught. Oh darn, she should have known it wouldn't be easy to sidestep Peter Van Housen when he wanted something of her. She sighed and answered truthfully, "All day Monday and part of Tuesday, but I have housecleaning and laundry and—"

  "Please, Gina," Peter interrupted, and the alarm was back in his voice. "Look, I'm sorry about the way our last meeting ended. I promise to be on my best behavior this time. With two kids as chaperones I won't be able to make such a jerk of myself as I usually do."

  Gina was too astounded to reply. Was he actually apologizing to her? Admitting that he might be wrong? No, not Peter. Everyone else in the world might be wrong but never Peter. So why didn't she just tell him no and hang up?

  His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "Gina, I want to see you. You know that I'm not so overflowing with paternal instinct that I routinely borrow my niece and nephew for a weekend of child-oriented fun and games. I want to spend a day with you, but I was afraid if I showed up alone you'd slam the door in my face."

  His seductive tone and the words he was uttering were rapidly melting her resistance and she had to get control of the conversation before her overactive glands prodded her into ignoring her better judgment. "Peter—" she began tentatively.

  "I'll bring the kids up Sunday night and we'll take the train ride Monday," he interrupted. "I swear we won't be alone together for a minute, we'll be too busy trying to keep track of those little monsters of Lil's."

  In her mind Gina pictured Peter and herself each clutching the hand of a small child—daddy, mommy and the children. The family they could so easily have been by now. She shut her eyes trying to block out the image but it only seemed to bring Peter closer as his soft words sounded intimately in her ear. "I need to spend some time with you, darling. It's been so long, so very long."

  Gina felt tears rising in her throat and when she spoke her words came out on a choked sob. "Oh Peter, don't. Please don't. I won't—I can't—let you hurt me anymore."

  There was a catch in Peter's voice too as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, Gina, I want to make love to you. I won't, though, not until you want me as much as I want you."

  He cleared his throat and his tone became more even. "We'll pick you up at seven-thirty Monday morning and take you out to breakfast. Don't keep us waiting because the train leaves from Fort Bragg at nine-twenty."

  Gina hung up the phone without answering and dropped her head in her hands. Why didn't she tell him no? What was she letting herself in for?

  The alarm went off early on Monday morning and Gina had just finished dressing in jeans and a blue bandana print sleeveless blouse when Peter arrived with a towheaded youngster in each hand. He introduced the taller one on the right as Johnny and the petite one on the left as Sonja. "This lovely lady's name is Virginia," he said to the children, "but I'm sure she won't mind if you call her Aunt Gina."

  Gina's violet eyes widened, but Peter couldn't have looked more innocent and besides there wasn't anything else she could do but agree without being rude. "Yes, please do," she said as she shook hands with each child in turn.

  Eight-year-old Sonja looked at Gina and asked, "Do you have a last name?"

  Peter answered for her. "Indeed she does, it's—"

  "Brown," interjected Gina hastily just in case he had intended to say Van Housen. Gina Van Housen. It sounded strange. She'd never thought of herself as Gina Van Housen and she wasn't going to start now.

  "My full name is Virginia Lea Brown," she answered the little girl, "but my friends call me Gina. Now let me see, if I remember right your last name is Wilcox."

  Sonja's freckled face brightened with surprise. "How did you know?" she squealed.

  "I used to know your mother," answered Gina.

  "But Mommie never told us about you."

  I'll just bet she didn't, thought Gina as she picked up the red cardigan she'd laid out to wear. Lilly Wilcox had been just as opposed to Gina marrying Peter as his parents had been.

  They had breakfast at a restaurant in Fort Bragg that catered to the tourist trade, fast, clean and edible. The Wilcox children were bright, lively and well-mannered, and Peter was on his best behavior. He indulged the youngsters when they insisted on ordering pancakes with syrup and hot fudge sundaes, and grinned at Gina when she allowed herself an exaggerated shudder. He kept the conversation light and strictly impersonal and she began to relax.

  At the small railroad depot they picked up the tickets Peter had reserved by phone and took their place in line with the three-hundred-plus other passengers waiting to board one of the five red, gold and black cars with the funny black and white caricature of a skunk, appropriately wearing a conductor's cap, that was painted on the sides. Johnny was especially interested in the diesel-powered locomotive which pulled and pushed the coaches and observation car into position on the track while the crowd watched. He badgered his uncle with questions and Peter, reading from a booklet he'd bought, explained that the engine was built by the Baldwin Locomotive Works at its Eddystone, Pennsylvania plant in 1924 and weighed 234,600 pounds.

  Finally the train was maneuvered into place and the passengers were allowed to board. Peter let Sonja and Johnny pick the coach they wanted and they chose the one named Noyo. Peter wanted to turn one of the bench seats so the four of them could sit facing each other, but both children wanted to sit by the window and neither of them would agree to sit backwards so Gina sat with Sonja and Peter and Johnny shared the seat ahead of them.

  The conductor shouted a happy "All aboard?" and the train lurched into motion. They chugged slowly east through Fort Bragg, along colorful Pudding Creek and into the spectacular mountain country between Fort Bragg and Willits. Sonja's eyes sparkled with the excitement of a little girl on her first train ride. She kept up a constant stream of chatter that Gina quickly realized didn't demand an answer, so she leaned back in the seat and watched as the forest deepened.

  It was promising to be a beautiful day. Not only the weather, which grew warmer with each mile they traveled, but the company. Peter's eyes had roamed over her with undisguised admiration when she'd opened her door for him that morning, and ever since he'd been like the Peter she used to know, fun, exciting and charming. He was at ease with his niece and nephew, neither too strict nor too lenient—except in the case of the pancakes and ice cream—and they obviously adored him.

  A pretty young tour guide wearing a black jumper decorated with the black and white skunk logo and a white blouse stood at the front of the car and with the aid of a public address system welcomed them to the world-famous California Western Railroad Super Skunk Line. She explained that it was originated as a logging railroad in 1885 and was powered by gas engines which prompted folks to say, "You ca
n smell 'em before you can see 'em." Thus the nickname.

  Most of the passengers giggled but Sonja and Johnny thought it was an hilarious joke and screamed with laughter, prompting Peter and Gina to quiet them so they could hear the guide explain that steam passenger service was started in 1904 and extended to Willits in 1911, thus connecting by rail the two towns on either side of the Coastal Mountain Range.

  After they had passed through the first of the two tunnels on the line Sonja and Johnny wanted to join some of the other passengers on the open observation car, and Gina and Peter accompanied them. Peter lifted Sonja in his arms so she could view the sleepy Noyo river for which their car was named. They snaked along the curved track in the shadows of majestic, towering redwoods and over high trestles— some wooden, some metal—that spanned the river and the gulches.

  After a while Sonja got restless in Peter's arms and wanted to get down. The clear fresh mountain breeze ruffled Gina's pixie haircut as Peter's hand gripped hers where it grasped the railing. She looked up and he frowned down at her. "Why aren't you wearing your ring?"

  Now was not the time to tell him she'd broken off with Stewart, she'd need privacy for that. Instead she said, "The diamond was loose. I'm having it repaired."

  Peter's gaze held hers as though he was trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth. Finally he looked away and changed the subject. "Have you taken this trip before?"

  She nodded. "Several times. Twyla took me shortly after I came here, and later I took Dad and Mama."

  Peter watched a small deer bound through the trees. "How are your parents? Is your father still in the service?"

  Her gaze followed his until the graceful fawn disappeared. "Yes, they're stationed in a rather remote part of Germany, have been for over a year. He hopes to stay there until he retires in three more years."

  "Do you miss them, Gina?" he asked. "I remember that you and your mother were more like sisters than mother and daughter."