Twisted Flames. Victor J. Banis
did about his condition, might prove a terrible mistake for both of them. If she were more certain of her love for him, if she could depend upon that love for the strength needed, things might work out. Other women had faced such problems and presumably found a way of living with them. But without the overwhelming love that had guided those others, could she hope to find a way?
Even as she considered those questions, however, she knew that she hadn’t the heart to break off the engagement. Whether her love for Neil was profound or not, she did feel an affection for him, and certainly sympathy. She could not bring herself to add to his misery. The breaking of any engagement at such a late date, practically at the altar, could be a hard blow to the ego.
Ultimately, there was only one decision she could rightfully make. She must sacrifice her own immediate happiness, set aside the doubts and fears in her mind, do what she thought best for Neil. In time, perhaps....
With a weary sigh, she rose from the bed, feeling tired and quite unlike a woman who, in a few hours, was to be married.
Neil arrived later in the morning. She knew, from his expression and the unaccustomed shyness of his manner, that he too was less than certain of their course of action. The knowledge only renewed her determination to mask her own uncertainties. She met his hesitant greeting with a warm smile and an assumed confidence.
“You see, for once, I’m ready,” she declared, pirouetting so that he could admire her appearance. She had purchased her outfit in Los Angeles, remembering with longing the beautiful gown of satin and lace that had initially been selected for their church wedding. Instead, she wore a white street dress, simple and unextravagant, and a wisp of a hat that left her auburn hair unhidden.
“You’re still sure?” Neil asked. Although her eager manner had erased some of the tension from his face, he was still far from confident. “There’s still time to back out if you want to.”
For an instant she almost surrendered to her own fear. Then she checked herself, still smiling.
“Of course I’m sure. What time are we supposed to be there?”
“Eleven.” He seemed to accept her decision as final, although he showed no special enthusiasm. “We’ve got time for some breakfast.”
“I don’t think I could eat anything, but I’ll have some coffee while you eat.”
Neil lifted one eyebrow. “Scared?” he asked, lighting a cigarette for her.
“Not scared—excited!” she insisted, accepting the cigarette gratefully. Her stomach was truly tingling with butterflies. “It isn’t every day a girl gets married, you know.”
He returned her smile as they left the hotel. Neil decided that he was not hungry either, so they found a nearby coffee shop and drank several cups of strong black brew while they waited for the time to pass.
Laura’s nervousness continued to increase with each passing moment. There’s still time, she told herself. She could still back out, before the damage was done. Stubbornly, she resisted the urge, forcing a show of eager confidence.
It was time at last. Neil did not ask her again if she were still certain, although he gave her a long, questioning look as they approached the parking lot and the waiting car....
* * * *
“Well, Mrs. Abbott, that’s that.” Neil held her arm as he led her once again to his car. “How does it feel to be married?”
“Do you know, I don’t feel a bit different,” Laura answered.
Actually, she did feel different. At the conclusion of the simple ceremony, she felt as though a door had slammed shut behind her. She had committed herself to a course of action that increasingly terrified her. They were now officially man and wife, but there was none of the giddy delirium that should have accompanied that fact. She was sure that Neil was as glum and dispirited as she although he, too, was making an effort at cheerfulness. Other couples had so much to look forward to on this occasion, not the least of which was the complete bliss that the wedding night promised—the pleasure denied to her and Neil.
Neil drove back to her hotel. They had lunch there, neither of them doing more than picking over their food. Laura’s bags were already packed, so it took mere minutes to check out of the hotel. Then they were on their way to Sandy Knoll and their new home.
Laura watched with interest as the passing scene became more obviously beach-oriented. The highway carried them north, following the shoreline and she began to recognize landmarks that indicated Sandy Knoll was near.
“I’ll devote myself to making a home for us,” she promised herself silently. “In that way, I’ll compensate for everything that our marriage lacks.”
Even as she made the promise, however, doubts began to nag at her again. There might be some things that could not be compensated.
They arrived shortly. A drive led off of the highway, through a rather pompous-looking arch that seemed out of place, and brought them to Sandy Knoll. Despite the similarity of the houses, a complaint common to most tract developments, it was not difficult to identify their house. Actually, only five or six of the houses were complete. They were, in a sense, pioneers, and had jokingly referred to themselves as such while furnishing the house.
All but one of the completed dwellings stood clustered close to the beach on one of the several unfinished streets. Their house was the last one, a simple, unadorned unit painted a light-hearted yellow and white.
Laura tried to envision, as they drove up to the garage, how she would finish the lawn. She made a mental note to begin by learning what would grow in the sandy soil. The climate, she reminded herself, was far different from that of Indiana. Lilacs would be impossible, regardless of the fact that they were her favorite flower. No doubt some of the neighbor women would be able to offer suggestions.
“You’re home, Mrs. Abbott,” Neil announced, switching off the ignition.
“So I see, Mr. Abbott,” Laura answered. She clambered out of the car without waiting for him to come around and open the door for her. The air was cooler than in the city, and carried with it the unmistakable scent of the ocean.
She started toward the front door, but Neil caught up with her and held her arm firmly.
“You don’t think I’d let you walk across the threshold,” he said. He darted ahead of her, unlocked the front door and came lightly back down the steps. Laura was laughing with genuine pleasure when he swept her up in his strong arms and carried her easily up the steps and into the house.
CHAPTER THREE
They laughed gaily as they entered the house, both of them for a fleeting moment carefree and happy.
“Enter the typical newlyweds,” Laura declared, hugging Neil’s neck.
Neil’s smile faded and became a frown.
“Well, almost,” he said glumly, lowering her to her feet with almost rude abruptness.
They stood in silence for a moment, looking about the room. They had been there often in the two weeks past, preparing the house and arranging the new furniture. It was comfortable in good taste. The decor was mostly Danish Modern, inexpensive but good pieces. Laura had made many plans for further decorations of the house. Now those plans seemed pointless to her.
“How about a drink?” Neil suggested in a quick attempt to restore their spirits.
Laura scowled. “It’s early in the day for that, isn’t it?”
“It’s our wedding day, remember?” He led her firmly toward the small bar built into one end of the living room. “People have a right to break the rules on their wedding day.”
A new doubt crept into Laura’s mind as she remembered the two weeks just past. Neil drank rather frequently, although she could not remember him drinking at all before. She had paid little attention to this fact, dismissing it as caused by the nervousness natural in a bridegroom. Now, however,