To Love, Honour and Betray Page 15

  I love you. I love you as I’ve never loved anyone. But I can’t love you without hurting you.

  Once, she would have given ten years of her life to hear Eduardo say he loved her. Now, the words were poison. She’d cried for weeks, till there were no tears left. But there was no other answer. She couldn’t live as his prisoner. And he couldn’t risk giving her his heart if she wasn’t.

  Two teardrops fell on the divorce papers spread out across her parents’ blue Formica table. When she’d come back home, part of her had hoped she might be pregnant, which would at least give her a reason to talk to her husband again. But even that hope had failed her.

  “Ma-ma?” Marisol’s dark eyes, exactly like her father’s, looked up at her mother with concern.

  “It’s all right,” Callie whispered, wiping her eyes and giving her daughter a tremulous smile. “Everything is fine.” All she had to do was sign the papers and her lawyer would file them. She’d be Callie Woodville again. Callie Cruz would disappear.

  Across the small kitchen, where it sat in a small woven basket, the gold and diamond double “CC” key chain flashed at her in the morning light. It seemed forlorn and out-of-place in the key basket, amid the clutter of pens, sticky notes and unpaid utility bills around the twenty-year-old phone. But even her keychain wasn’t as out-of-place as the shipment that had arrived at their rural North Dakota farm yesterday. Picking up her steaming mug of coffee, Callie went to the kitchen window and pushed aside the red gingham curtain.

  Outside, beside her father’s red, slightly rusted 1966 pickup truck, her sleek silver car was now parked in front of the barley field.

  Callie closed her eyes. She’d never thought she would have the strength to leave Eduardo.

  But then, she never thought he’d let her go.

  And he’d already moved on. She’d already seen pictures of Eduardo in a celebrity magazine, attending a charity gala in New York with the young Spanish duchess. Callie wondered if they’d marry, once his divorce to her was final. Her heart twisted with jagged pain at the thought, and for the first time, she truly understood what Eduardo must have felt when he’d thought she was in love with Brandon.

  How hard it was, to set the person free that you loved most on earth. But Eduardo had done it.

  Now so must she.

  Callie heard an engine coming up the long driveway. Looking back out the window, she smiled. About time. Taking another sip of her coffee, Callie watched Brandon and Sami leap out of the Jeep.

  Brandon’s heart hadn’t remained broken for long. Since their return from Morocco, now freed of his guilt and concern over Callie, he’d finally allowed himself to give his heart to the young woman who’d been his constant companion for nine months. Yesterday, he’d asked Sami to marry him.

  Their parents had been cautious at first, then ecstatic. News of the engagement had rapidly spread across Fern, and thanks to Jane’s eager posting, to all her internet friends, across the world. Callie swallowed, feeling a little misty-eyed. Engaged. Her best friend and little sister were planning to be married in September.

  As the two vagabonds traipsed through the door, Callie shook her head with a wry laugh. “Engaged or not, sis, Mom and Dad are not happy you stayed out all night.”

  “It was totally innocent!” Brandon protested. Then his full cheeks blushed beneath his black-framed glasses as he gave Sami a sudden wicked grin. “Well, mostly innocent …”

  “We were up at McGillicuddy’s Hill,” Sami said quickly, “to see the comet away from the lights. There were so many stars.” She looked dreamily at her fiancé. “Brandon knows all the constellations. We just lost track of time …”

  “Good luck explaining that to Dad.”

  “Dad knows he can trust Brandon,” she protested. She turned to him. “Like I do. With my life.”

  Brandon looked back at Sami with love in his eyes. Taking her hand in his own, he kissed it fervently. And Callie suddenly felt like an intruder, standing in the cozy, warm kitchen in her old purple sweatpants and ratty T-shirt. “All right,” she said awkwardly. “You should talk to him, though.”

  “Where is he? Out in the fields?”

  Callie nodded. “Alfalfa by the main road.”

  “Don’t worry.” Brandon clutched Sami’s hand. “You won’t have to face him alone.”

  “I know.”

  As he pulled his car keys out of his pocket, they turned toward the door. On impulse, Callie blurted out, “Wait.”

  They paused, staring at her questioningly. Crossing to the key basket, Callie took the “CC” keychain and held it out to them. “I want you to have this.”

  “What?” Sami exclaimed. “Your car?”

  Brandon glowered. “Why?”

  “It’s—” Callie grasped at straws “—an engagement gift.”

  “Are you kidding?” Sami blurted out.

  “We don’t need anything from him.” Brandon looked mutinous. It was possible he still nursed a grudge. “My Jeep works just fine.”

  Sami turned to him. “Think of it as compensation for him punching you,” she said hopefully.

  It didn’t help her case. Brandon scowled.

  “Please take it.” Callie shook her head. “I hate looking at it. It makes me remember …” Her voice trailed off, as she felt overwhelmed by sweet memories of the Christmas day Eduardo had dressed in a Santa suit and given it to her. How happy they’d been … She gave them a tremulous smile. “Sell it. Use the money however you like.”

  The young couple looked at the dangling gold-and-diamond keychain.

  “We could buy land,” Sami said.

  “A farm of our own,” Brandon breathed. He blinked then snatched the keychain from her hand. “Very well. We accept.” He paused, tilting his head with a grin. Then he sobered. “Thanks, Callie. Thanks for being the best friend I’ve ever had.” He turned to Sami. “Till now.”

  And then they were gone, racing out of the farmhouse to the car parked near the barn. Their conversation floated back to Callie on the June breeze.

  “One ride before we sell it?”

  “Let’s go the long way, past the Coffee Stop!” Sami giggled. “I want to see Lorene Doncaster’s face when she sees me in this thing….”

  “Your father will forgive us for being out all night. I’ll explain. It was the fault of the stars …”

  The fault of the stars. Alone in the kitchen, Callie stood in the warm sunlight of her mother’s cheerful kitchen. She looked back at the divorce papers. She saw the black, angular scrawl of Eduardo’s signature. He’d asked for a divorce. It was the only thing to do.

  Wasn’t it?

  She picked up the pen in her trembling hand. She looked down at the empty line beneath his black signature.

  Was their marriage really nothing more than a nine-month mistake?

  She exhaled, closing her eyes.

  Then, an hour later, she got a call that changed everything.

  “Good progress today. So, same time next week?”

  Eduardo nodded, pulling on his jacket. He left the therapist’s office and took a deep breath of the morning air. The June sky was bright blue over Manhattan.

  “Sir?” Sanchez stood ready at the curb, waiting beside the black Mercedes sedan.

  Eduardo shook his head. “Think I’ll walk.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Eduardo walked slowly down the street, feeling the sun on his face, hearing the birds sing overhead. A bunch of laughing schoolkids in identical uniforms ran by him on the sidewalk, reminding Eduardo of the Madeline book he’d read to his two-week-old daughter, to the great amusement of his wife.

  He stopped, feeling a sudden pain in his chest.

  He would see Marisol soon, he reminded himself. His jet was already gassed up and ready at a private airport outside the city. He glanced at his platinum watch. Mrs. McAuliffe was likely headed for the airport now, if she wasn’t there already, preparing to make the long flight across the country and back. She would collect th
e baby from his soon-to-be ex-wife. From the woman who still haunted his dreams.

  Blankly Eduardo stared up at the green trees above the sidewalk. The trees looked exactly like they had in early September, when he’d first shown up in the West Village demanding marriage. On the day when, in the space of a few hours, he’d gained both a wife, and a child.

  His stomach clenched. He suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of going back to work. All those hours of work, all those days and years, and for what? He was a billionaire, and yet he envied his chauffeur, who went home every night to a snug little home in Brooklyn with a wife who loved him and their three growing children. Eduardo had a huge penthouse on the Upper West Side filled with art and expensive furniture, but when he was alone, the hallways and rooms echoed with the laughter of his baby. Of his lost wife.

  Soon to be ex-wife.

  He clenched his hands into fists. Had Callie signed the papers yet? Why hadn’t she signed them?

  It had been two weeks since he’d signed the divorce papers, and the waiting was slowly driving him mad. He wanted it done, finished. Every day he was still married to Callie was acid on his heart, making him question if he’d made a mistake, if there was still a chance she might have forgiven him—if he could have earned back her trust.

  He clawed his hair back with his hand. No. No way. She was probably engaged to Brandon McLinn by now and planning their wedding. McLinn’s steadfast loyalty had triumphed at last. And unlike Eduardo, McLinn fit into Callie’s world as Eduardo never would. He’d remember to ask her father for permission first. No one could ever deserve Callie, but if anyone had earned her, it was Brandon McLinn.

  So why hadn’t she signed the papers? Why?

  He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know. And it was like crossing a high-wire without a net.

  Since Callie had left him in Marrakech, he hadn’t checked up on her once. He’d fired Keith Johnson from her case. He’d even given his lawyers strict instructions not to give him news of her. They were to contact Eduardo when her lawyer had filed the signed paperwork for the divorce, and not before.

  But he still hadn’t got the call. Did that mean there was hope?

  Closing his eyes, Eduardo turned his face toward the sun as he thought about how he’d isolated her during their marriage. No. No hope.

  “Hey!”

  Looking down, Eduardo saw a little girl of about eight or nine, standing apart from five other schoolgirls. She held up a picture. “You dropped this.”

  Reaching out, he took the photo of Callie and Marisol, taken at the Spanish villa at Christmas. Marisol was just three and a half months old then, giggling, flashing her single tooth. Callie was mischievously wearing the Santa hat she’d stolen from Eduardo, smiling as he took the picture. Her green eyes glowed with love. Grief choked him, so much his knees nearly went weak. “Thanks.”

  “I know how it feels to lose things,” the little girl said. “Don’t be careless.”

  He looked up, his eyes wide.

  “See ya.” With a skip, the girl turned away, racing back down the street with her friends, with the reckless joy of childhood freedom.

  And a lightning bolt hit his heart.

  Eduardo had told Callie to leave. He’d been the one who’d filed for divorce. He’d set her free, knowing she deserved better than a man who tried to control her, to spy on her, who wouldn’t trust her.

  But what if he could have just chosen to be a different man?

  Eduardo stared at the flow of traffic on the busy street. What if his past didn’t have to infect his future? What if he could choose a different life?

  Hope rose like a wave inside his soul, no longer to be repressed. He’d set Callie free. But could he do the same for himself—be the man he wanted to be? The divorce wasn’t final yet. Was there still time?

  Could he ask her for a second chance?

  Ask her to be his wife—not his prisoner, but his partner?

  Gripping the photo, he whirled around, causing four construction workers to spit curses as he knocked past them on the sidewalk. Eduardo caught up with Sanchez just as his sedan was pulling from the curb. Yanking open the back door, Eduardo threw himself inside. “The airport!” he panted. “I need to see my wife—now!”

  Sanchez gave him an enormous smile. “Yes, sir!”

  He stomped on the gas, and Eduardo pulled out his phone to call Mrs. McAuliffe about the change in plans. Before he could, his phone rang in his hand. He saw Keith Johnson’s number. Scowling, he turned the sound to Mute. But after he hung up with Mrs. McAuliffe, as the car crossed the George Washington Bridge, his phone buzzed again. Looking down, he saw his lawyer’s number and a chill went down his spine.

  His lawyer.

  Did that mean …

  Could it be …

  Eduardo narrowed his eyes. No. As the phone stopped, then urgently started to vibrate a second time, Eduardo rolled down the window, and tossed it into the Hudson.

  It wasn’t too late for him to change. He wouldn’t let it be.

  He made it to the airport as his jet was warming up, and took his place on the jet bound for North Dakota. Refusing his surprised flight attendant’s offer of his usual martini, Eduardo paced back and forth across the cabin for hours, planning what he would say to Callie. He tried to write down his feelings then finally gave up in disgust. He would pray that once he saw her, he’d know what to say.

  Sitting restlessly in the white leather seat by the window, he felt like a jangle of nerves. Wishing the jet could go faster, he looked down through the wispy clouds and watched the green rolling hills of the East Coast slowly transform to the flat, brownish landscape of the northern prairies.

  When they finally landed at the tiny airport outside of Fern, his legs were shaking as he went down the steps to the tarmac. The airport was just like he remembered when he’d visited so long ago, the day Callie had come to meet him as the local office liaison. But this time, he had no staff. He was alone.

  Eduardo had forgotten what it was like to exist without layers of employees and servants insulating him from the real world. He felt clumsy, trying to remember how to do things himself, with no assistants. No bodyguards. On impulse, he stopped at the airport’s single shop to buy Callie some flowers and an eight-dollar box of chocolates. The place was deserted, and it took five long minutes before the salesclerk even noticed he was there, and came out from the back to ring up his order.

  But Eduardo didn’t chew him out. He didn’t try to throw his weight around. He no longer wanted to rule this town. He wanted to fit in. He was suddenly desperate to be part of Callie’s world, if only she would let him.

  He didn’t go completely unnoticed. At the car rental counter, the female clerk looked at his face, then his credit card. Her jaw fell open, and her gum almost fell out of her mouth.

  “Eduardo Cruz?” she said faintly. “The Eduardo Cruz? The owner of Cruz Oil?”

  “Don’t hold it against me.” Impatient as he was to find Callie, he gave her his best attempt at a grin. “I, um, seem to have lost my phone. Do you happen to know the way to the Woodville farm? Walter and Jane Woodville’s place?”

  “Of course I know it.” The young woman chewed her gum thoughtfully. “At the corner of Rural Route 12 and Old County Road. I went to school with their daughter.” Her eyes darkened. “I saw her driving around in the Rolls-Royce yesterday….”

  “Thank you. She’s the one I came to see—”

  “But she’s not at home,” she said. “I’m sorry to tell you this if you’re a friend, but she was in an accident. A car accident.”

  Eduardo nearly staggered back. “What?”

  “That car was smashed right up,” she said sadly.

  Car accident. Memories went through him of when he’d heard of his mother’s death in a smash-up on a treacherous road on the Costa del Sol. An icicle of stark fear went down his spine. “You are mistaken,” he said faintly. “That car is very safe….”

  “Some kids were riding bi
cycles in the middle of the road. Her fiancé swerved, and the car smashed straight into a telephone pole. She’s in critical condition at County General …”

  Eduardo reached across the counter, his eyes wild. “Who’s her fiancé? Who is he?”

  “Brandon McLinn …”

  He didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed a map off the counter.

  “Mr. Cruz, I really am sorry—”

  Running to his rental car, he drove for the hospital, racing down the highway at a hundred miles an hour. If he got pulled over by a policeman, he knew he’d go to jail. But he didn’t give a damn.

  He couldn’t lose her. Not now …

  Anguish gripped his throat. He could have been with her all this time. He could have been chasing her the last two months, trying to make her forgive him, trying to be the man she deserved. Instead he’d let her go. Why couldn’t he have just treated her right from the beginning? Why had he wasted so much time trying to control their lives? Control was the illusion, not love. There was no such thing as perfect safety. No such thing as perfect control. You couldn’t make someone love you. And even if you did, you couldn’t make it last forever.

  People left. People died.

  But love endured. He could choose to love Callie with all his heart and strength, love her with full knowledge of both her flaws and his own; love her with every ounce of his being until the day he died. That was his choice.

  He’d once told her that love changed nothing. It was wrong. It changed everything.

  Clutching the steering wheel, he prayed he’d reach her in time. Callie had to be all right. His daughter couldn’t grow up without a mother. He couldn’t live without his wife.

  The afternoon sunlight cast the waving fields in a golden glow beneath the wide blue skies. He increased his speed to a hundred and twenty, as fast as the little rental car would go along the empty highway.

  Don’t leave me, Eduardo begged soundlessly. Don’t leave me.