Danielle Steel: The Promise

“You know, for all your condemnation of my way of life, I can't see that yours is all that different from mine. You're just as obsessed with your work as I am with mine, just as lonely, just as locked away in your own little world. So why are you so hard on me? It's not very fair.” His voice was soft but reproachful.

“I'm sorry. Maybe you're right.” It was hard to argue the point. And then, as she thought over what he had said, she felt his hand on hers, and it was like a knife in her heart. She pulled it away with a stricken look in her eyes. And he looked unhappy again.

“You're a very difficult woman to understand.”

“I suppose I am. There's a lot that would be impossible to explain.”

“You ought to try me sometime. I'm not the monster you seem to think I am.”

“I'm sure you aren't.” As she looked at him, all she wanted to do was cry. This was like saying good-bye to him. It was knowing, all over again, what she could never have. But maybe she would understand it better now. Maybe she would finally be able to let go. With a small sigh she looked at her watch. “I really should get to work.”

“Have I gotten any closer to a yes in answer to our proposal?”

“I'm afraid not.”

He hated to admit it, but he would have to give up. He knew now that she would never change her mind. All his efforts had been for nothing. She was one very tough woman. But he liked her. He was surprised just how much, when she let down her guard. There was a softness and a kindness that drew him to her in a way that he hadn't been drawn to anyone in years. “Do you suppose that I could talk you into having dinner with me, Marie? Sort of a consolation prize, since I don't get my deal?” She laughed softly at the look on his face and patted his hand.

“I'd like that sometime. But not just now. I'm afraid I'll be going out of town.” Damn. He had really lost this one, round after round.

“Where are you going?”

“Back east. To take care of some personal business.” She had made the decision in the last half hour. But now she knew what she had to do. It was not a question of burying the past, but unburying it. In a way, Peter had been right. And now she was sure. She had to “heal it” as he had said.

“I'll call the next time I'm in San Francisco. I hope I'll have better luck.”

Maybe. And maybe by then I'll be Mrs. Peter Gregson. Maybe by then I'll be healed. And it won't matter anymore. Not at all.

They walked quietly back to the truck, and he dropped her off at her apartment She said very little when she left him. She thanked him for breakfast, shook his hand, and walked back up the steps. He had lost. And as he watched her go he felt an overwhelming sadness. It was as though he had lost something very special. He wasn't quite sure what. A business deal, a woman, a friend? Something. For the first time in a long time, he felt unbearably alone. He shoved the truck into gear, and drove grimly through Pacific Heights and up the hill back to his hotel.

Marie was already on the phone to Peter Gregson.

“Tonight? Darling, I have a meeting.” He sounded flustered, and he was in a hurry between patients.

“Then come after the meeting. It's important. I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“For where? For how long?” He sounded worried.

“I'll tell you when I see you. Tonight?”

“All right, all right. Around eleven. But that's really foolish, Marie. Can't this thing wait?”

“No.” It had waited two years, and she had been crazy to let it sit for that long.

“All right. I'll see you tonight.” He had hung up in a hurry, and she called the airline to make a reservation, and the vet to make arrangements for Fred.

Chapter 29

Marie had been lucky. There had been a cancellation that afternoon, so now she found herself sitting in the familiar, comfortable room she had not visited in months. She sat back against the couch and stretched her legs toward the unlit fireplace, as though by habit, staring absently at her feet in delicate sandals. Her thoughts were so far away that she didn't hear Faye come in.

“Are you meditating or just falling asleep?”

Marie looked up with a smile as Faye sat down in the seat across from her. “Just thinking. It's good to see you.” Actually, she was surprised how good it felt to be back. There was a feeling of homecoming in just being there, an ease about fitting back into an old and happy groove. She had had some good moments in that room, as well as some difficult ones.

“Should I tell you that you look marvelous, or are you already tired of hearing it?” Faye beamed at the girl, and Marie laughed.

“I never get tired of hearing it.” Only with Faye would she dare to be that honest. “I guess you want to know why I'm here.” Her face sobered as she looked into the other woman's eyes.

“The question certainly crossed my mind.” They exchanged another rapid smile, and then Marie seemed to get lost in her own thoughts again.

“I've seen Michael.”

“He found you?” Faye sounded stunned, and more than a little impressed.

“Yes, and no. He found Marie Adamson. That's all he knows. One of his underlings has been hounding me about my work. Cotter-Hillyard is doing a medical center out here, and they seem to want my photographs blown up to enormous proportions as part of the decor.”

“That's very flattering, Marie.”

“Who gives a damn, Faye? What do I care what he thinks of my work?” But that wasn't entirely true either. She had always basked in the warmth of his praise, and even now there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that she had caught his attention again, with her work. “Anyway, his mother was out here a while back, and I told her the same thing I'd been telling them. No. I'm not interested. I won't sell to them. I won't work with them. Period.”

“And they've pursued it?”

“Ardently.”

“That must feel good. Do any of them realize who you are?”

“Ben didn't But Michael's mother did. I think that's why she set up the meeting.” Nancy fell silent and stared at her feet. She was a long way away, back in that hotel room, the day she had seen Marion.

“What did it feel like when you saw her?”

“Terrible. It reminded me of everything she'd done to me. I hate her.” But there was more in her voice, and Faye heard it.

“And?”

“All right.” Marie looked up with a sigh. “It made everything hurt all over again. It reminded me of how much I had once wanted her to like me, to love me even, to accept me as Michael's wife.”

“And she still rejected you?”

“I'm not sure. I guess so. She's sick now. She seems different. She seemed almost sorry about what she'd done. I gather Michael hasn't been particularly happy in the last two years.”

“And how did you feel about that?”

“Relieved.” She said it with a soft, tired sigh. “And then I realized that it doesn't make any difference how he's been. It's all over for us, Faye. All of that was years ago. We're different people now. And the fact is that he never came back to me. He probably wouldn't even be running after me for my work now, if he knew who I really was—who I used to be. But I'm not Nancy McAllister anymore, Faye. And he's not the Michael I knew.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him. He's callous, hard, driven, cold. Oh I don't know, maybe there's something there. But there's a lot of new stuff too.”

“How about pain? Loss? Disappointment? Grief?”

“No, Faye, how about betrayal, abandonment, desertion, cowardice? Those are the real issues, aren't they?”

“I don't know. Are they? Is that how you still feel when you see him?”

“Yes.” Her voice was hard again now. “I hate him.”