“Tell me,” she said icily.
He handed her a newspaper clipping from a Mexican-American newspaper out of L.A. It was a photo of Rafe. A different Rafe than the one she knew. Dressed in a business suit. The power lawyer. He was boarding an airplane. A gorgeous, dark-haired woman stood next to him. He had his arm looped over her shoulder, protecting her from the cameras.
Her heart froze in that instant and she couldn’t breathe. “What… what does the caption say?”
Her father cleared his throat. “It’s dated the day after your skydiving accident. The article says that Rafael Santiago, well-known Hispanic attorney from Los Angeles, is off for a trip to Mexico. And it mentions that he is a hero from a recent military operation and is being considered for a medal.”
The words didn’t matter. It was the picture of the couple that tore at her heart.
He hadn’t loved her, after all. To him, their lovemaking had been an interlude, a brief affair. Even the marriage had been a sham.
She handed the clipping back to her father. She almost hated him for bringing this news. With a control she’d cultivated over the years, she refused to give in to tears. Later, she would assimilate this betrayal, but not now. Not in front of her father.
“And that’s not all, Helen.”
She flinched. She wasn’t sure she could take any more.
He showed her another clipping, this from a tabloid. A young man identified as Eduardo Santiago was holding a huge gold nugget that he claimed his brother had found in a redwood tree the day he’d been involved in a skydiving accident in the California mountains.
So, Rafe hid his precious nugget, after all. And he found time to go to Rich Bar to his gold, but no time for me.
Her father held out his arms to comfort her, but she ducked away. “Not now, Daddy. Maybe later I’ll forgive you for this. But not now.”
“Helen!” he called out as she walked stiffly from the room. “Where are you going?”
“To begin a new life for myself,” she whispered, slipping the gold band off her finger.
In early December, three months from the time of the ill-fated skydiving accident, Helen was putting up Christmas decorations in the townhouse she’d purchased for herself outside Sacramento. Not exactly the little house with the white picket fence she’d always dreamed of, but she was happy with her new life. Well, not exactly happy, but content.
After her father’s disclosures, Helen had cried for days on end in the seclusion of her apartment. Then the anger had set in. How dare Rafe do this to her? The jerk! Soon after that, she’d grown determined. She had a baby to consider, and Rafe wasn’t good enough for her — just as her father had said.
She was painting again, taking it one day at a time, and moving on with her life. Oh, she wouldn’t deny that Rafe was on her mind still, but she was getting better about the crying bouts.
“Where do you want this one?” Elliott asked, holding up an angel ornament near the tree. It was from a box of heirloom decorations handed down from her mother.
An angel! She started to tell Elliott to put it away, but stopped. “Anywhere. In the back. I never liked that one much.”
“Oh.” He looked at her with concern. Laying the box aside, he stepped up, taking her by the forearms. “Are you having second thoughts about the wedding, darling? New Year’s Eve is almost a month away. There’s still time to cancel if you’re not sure.”
She shook her head. “No, but I’m troubled that you’re getting the short end of the stick. I care for you deeply, Elliott, but you know I’m not in love with you. I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons… for the baby.” She put a palm protectively over her still-flat stomach.
“I love you enough for both of us, sweetheart, and I’m convinced you’ll grow to love me, too.” He hugged her warmly, and Helen almost wept with yearning for another man’s arms. Why couldn’t she feel the same passion for Elliott that she had for Rafe? Why? It just wasn’t fair.