Tides of Honour (16 page)

“Don't go, Audrey.” He was almost begging, but she didn't give in. This was her dream even if it wasn't his. “Don't let them play with you like that. You're better than that.”

A sob escaped, and she let him have it, all her frustration in one long exhalation. “Why do you have to be so mean, Danny? Why do you do all you can to ruin things for me? All I want is a little happiness.” Her hands clenched into fists, and she felt the sharp press of her nails against her palms. “I want to see people enjoy my paintings. I want to meet new people. I want to try new things. But you always make the pretty things ugly. You want to keep me unhappy.”

“No, I don't.”

“You do! Every time I come home and tell you something good, you find something suspicious about it or you turn it around so it's about you. Why do you have to do that?”

“That's who I am.”

She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “That's a lousy reason. You're being very selfish.”

He didn't say anything at first, just looked toward the foot of the bed. He'd taken off the peg and the empty pant leg gathered near his other knee.

“You didn't use to be selfish,” she added quietly.

“Maybe not.” He gave her a look, as if there was something he wanted to say. Something he was fighting to keep back. “Maybe it's not being selfish. Maybe I want to protect you.”

“You just want to keep me to yourself.”

His expression was unsure. As if he didn't know whether or
not he needed to defend himself on that point. “And is that so wrong?”

Oh, it broke her heart seeing him this way. All she'd wanted in the past was for him to hold her, protect her, love her. She hadn't cared if there was another person in the whole world. He'd made her laugh, he'd thrilled her, and at times she felt as if he were too good to be true. How could anyone love her as much as he did? But that love had turned upside down. Now he was drowning in his own despair, and he was pulling her under with him. She could barely breathe.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You have to let me be happy, Danny.”

She didn't know what she'd hoped for, maybe for him to slump just a little, to suddenly see the light and apologize, to beg for her forgiveness. And she'd give it to him, if only she could see that love back in his eyes. She'd give it all back to him in that instant.

But he didn't. He stood up, hopped to his crutch, and yanked on his old coat. She heard the door latch behind him, and it was the loneliest sound she'd ever heard.

TWENTY
-
FOUR

She went to the dressmaker
the next morning after Danny had gone to work. He hadn't come home until three hours before he had to get up, and they hadn't spoken a word to each other all through those long, cold hours. Audrey had closed her eyes, refusing to cry, but all the time she craved his touch and had to fight the urge to slide closer, press her back against his. But he hadn't moved toward her. He hadn't reached for her at all.

So she stepped into the street outside their little house just after ten o'clock, Pierre's little card tucked in her pocket. She had no idea if she would actually use it, if she would be brave enough to do as he had so generously suggested. But the very idea of walking into a store she had, until then, considered out of bounds and maybe even walking out with a purchase appealed to her on many levels.

It was quite a distance to the shop on Hollis Street, and she was glad she'd thought to bring an umbrella. It wasn't quite raining yet, but the clouds were closing in. All she could do was hope it only rained, didn't snow.

The little store was called Nanette's Boutique. The front was white with a big, beautiful window out to the street, and two
breathtaking gowns were on display, one in light pink with ivory lace, the other an elegant black satin. Everyone seemed to wear black these days, respecting those lost in the war, but Audrey had decided she just couldn't. What she needed more than anything these days—besides a return of the old Danny—was colour. And since she was going to be on display as an artist, it only made sense that she show off a little of it. She blinked up at the pink gown, appreciating its delicate cut, the folds of the skirt lightly sweeping the floor of the display window. It was absolutely beautiful. But Audrey didn't want pink.

A little bell rang when she opened the door, bright and cheery, and such a welcome change from the grey outside that she couldn't help smiling. A neatly dressed woman came from the back of the store to greet her, all smiles, though her eyes flicked skeptically over Audrey's coat. Audrey had expected that kind of reaction, and she didn't blame the woman. Danny was right, but he was also wrong. She knew she didn't fit in—not as she was. A change was needed, and if Pierre Antoine wanted to help her make that change, she wasn't about to argue. Yes, she was as poor as a church mouse, but the little card in her pocket was worth more than anything she'd ever owned, including her gold wedding band.

“Good morning,” the woman said sweetly. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, I hope so,” Audrey said, wanting to please her. “I'm looking for a gown for a dinner party.” The shadow of a frown crossed the woman's brow, and Audrey smiled. “Don't worry. I came here at Mr. Pierre Antoine's suggestion,” she said, pulling out the card.

The pale blond brow lifted with surprise, and she took the envelope to her counter, where she slit it open with a letter opener. Audrey waited patiently while the woman read the note, saw her eyes warm with recognition. She smiled at Audrey.

“Well, aren't you the lucky lady?” she said.

“I really am.”

“A dinner party in your honour? This must be something truly special.”

“I painted his family's portrait, and he seems quite pleased with it, I'm glad to say.”

“Well, then. We must make sure he's just as pleased with the artist as he is with the art. Let's look over here, shall we? My name is Mrs. Jones, and you must not be shy to ask questions or tell me what you think, are we agreed?”

Audrey tried on five different dresses before she and Mrs. Jones finally found just the right one: an ankle-length evening gown in satin charmeuse, dyed a lovely robin's egg blue. The sleeveless shoulders were draped with a gold embroidered net, and a cluster of rosebuds had been added where the waist drew in over a full, graceful skirt. A matching gold netting fell beneath the hem as well, giving the impression of a golden-laced petticoat. She stepped into a matching pair of shoes and waved away the suggestion of a hat.

“The colour is magnificent, is it not?” Mrs. Jones said, stepping back to look at Audrey's reflection in the mirror. “As if the material were specially made to match your eyes.”

She couldn't disagree. The gown was beautiful, and Audrey looked beautiful in it. But such a wave of melancholy broke over her in that moment she had to blink quickly to hide her emotions. Her wedding dress had been blue. She still remembered the way Danny had looked at her when he'd seen her in it, and how his eyes had changed as he'd slowly undressed her for the first time. She should choose another dress, one which didn't bring such sadness.

But no. This was the one. She lifted her chin and nodded. “It's perfect.”

Mrs. Jones misinterpreted the sudden shine in Audrey's eyes. “Sometimes it is amazing to see how a gown can transform a person. Overwhelming, even. You are a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Baker, but it can be difficult to see that when you are forced to hide your beauty beneath lesser clothing. Your husband is a lucky man.”

She swallowed back any quick comments, because of course there was nothing lucky about him at all. And “lesser clothing” was all she'd ever known. Besides, Danny wouldn't come to the dinner party; he might never see her in the gown at all.

“And I'm a lucky woman,” was all she said.

When she stepped outside the shop again, she put up her umbrella against the downpour and was instantly drenched in doubt. What on earth was she doing? She couldn't go to a party on her own, could she? By doing this, wasn't she pulling farther away from Danny instead of trying to mend what was broken between them? She had no right to wear something so beautiful, so expensive; though she'd never been told the price, she knew she'd never be able to afford it on her own.

It had apparently been raining for a while, because puddles had formed while she'd been in the shop. Walking down the hill toward her house was like moving with the tide. She wished she'd stayed inside just a little longer, but after she'd accepted the parcel, conversation between herself and Mrs. Jones had become decidedly awkward.

She had almost passed a café on the corner when a notice in the window caught her eye. Backing up a few steps, she frowned at the ivory sheet of paper, reading it through the rain-speckled window, then she smiled. It was just like the ones she'd seen in London, in another lifetime. A women's meeting, taking place Wednesday at noon in a nearby church. The reminder was bittersweet. So much had been in her head back then, all the changes,
the adventure of saving to start a new life. The women she'd met had been her support system, and she decided she needed them again. She memorized the church address and time and headed back to the house.

The brown paper package containing her new gown and shoes slid under their bed. He wouldn't see it there, not if he didn't think to look. And she had a feeling that even if she told him about it, he wouldn't look. There would be no changing his mind on this.

And now there would be no changing hers. Wednesday's meeting couldn't come soon enough, as far as Audrey was concerned. She survived another silent night on Tuesday, but Wednesday morning she couldn't bear it any longer. She was making his lunch—what there was of it, anyway—while he sat stonily at the kitchen table, sipping tea and eating toast, staring at the plate in front of him.

“Are we ever going to speak to each other again?” Audrey asked quietly.

He looked up at her slowly, as if he'd forgotten she was there. But he hadn't, she knew. He'd just been waiting for her to say something first. He wanted her to think he was unaffected by this tension between them, but she saw it there, thick in the lines across his brow. She read him so well. Knew every desperate thought behind those sad eyes. He was lost. He needed her. But he wouldn't accept even a hint of comfort.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don't care. The weather?” she said wryly.

“It's raining again.”

The fact that he hadn't even cracked a smile hurt. “You know I was joking.”

His eyes went back to his tea, and she slammed her hands on the counter. “Look at me, Danny.”

This time his reaction was a swift glare, shot at her through blazing eyes. Many men would back away from that look, but Danny didn't scare her. Not in that way, anyway. The only thing that scared Audrey was the fact that he was using that expression on her.

“What do you want from me, Audrey?” he demanded. “I'm doing all I can.”

“No, you're not.” She was determined not to wobble. “You're doing all you can to ruin our marriage is what you're doing. I need you to pull yourself out of this, Danny.”

“Out of what?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I'm talking about. All you want to do lately is moan and groan and drink and be mean to me. You
must
hear it in your own voice.”

He leaned back in his chair, stretched his leg out in front. “You want me to pretend? You want me to say I'm happy, you're happy, we're all one big happy family?” He threw his hands in the air. “Oh, that's right. We're not even a family. I can't seem to get you pregnant, can I?”

They didn't often speak of that, and Audrey'd never even think to blame him for it. In fact, she thought it was probably her fault; she'd grown up so poor that she'd starved her body, made it too difficult to have a baby. But she didn't admit to it. Now didn't seem the right time to soften on any subject.

“You are the only family I have, Danny, so yes. You're ruining our family.”

“And it's all my fault? While I'm out there working hard to make a penny, you're chatting with the upper crust, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Becoming a celebrity of some kind. They're still laughing at you, you know. You're only giving them more to laugh at, going to this party of yours.”

He'd been so quiet about the party she'd almost thought he'd
forgotten about it. Apparently not. “That's your opinion. I disagree. I feel welcome there. In fact, Mr. Antoine was shocked when I told him I didn't think I could go, that I—” She stopped and her face was suddenly hot. She'd said too much.

Danny regarded her carefully. “That you what, Audrey?”

There was nothing she could do but go on. “I told him I had nothing to wear, so he sent me to the dressmaker's, and he bought me a gown.”

His jaw dropped. “He . . . bought you a gown?”

“Y-yes. Mrs. Antoine's clothes are all too big for me, and he said he wanted to make sure I was there, to meet all his friends. Oh Danny, can't you see? He wants to help us! He wants to introduce me to families so I can paint for them. You and I can have a better life after that. You told me a long time ago that you'd be mad to ask me to stop working, that we needed the money. Well, none of that has changed.” Her voice had risen steadily now that she felt on solid ground. She knew he'd remember saying that, back at his parents' home. How she longed to be back there! Emotion was starting to edge its way into her words, but she fought it back, needing to stay strong. “You're being unreasonable, and you know it. Well, I'm going to be practical, and I'm going to enjoy myself while I'm at it. I'm going to that party, I'm going to meet people, and I'm going to bring home some money. Maybe then you'll stop all this miserable self-pity. I want you to come with me, but you are just too stubborn.”

“You have no idea, do you?” he said quietly.

She frowned at him, taken off guard. “About what?”

“About me. About what it's like to be me, to be a man, to be a husband and watch you doing this. I have all sorts of responsibilities, and you just turn it all around with your parties and your fancy dresses. Life is hard, Audrey. You can't just dance around like a little girl, you know.”

“You're making no sense.”

“You just don't understand me.”

“But I do!”

He shook his head and held her eyes. “I used to think you did. Now all you care about is yourself.”

Words stuck in her throat, and tears overflowed. “What are you talking about?”

Something she hoped was regret flickered behind his beautiful, cold eyes then was gone. “I'm going to work.” He hobbled to the counter and picked up the lunch she'd made for him, then he leaned heavily on his crutch and left again. “You go on and have a nice day now,” he tossed over his shoulder.

By the time the door had closed behind him, she could hardly breathe. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking with sobs, letting them come as loudly as they wanted. She hoped he heard every one of them, hoped they tore at him just as they did her. If she could just be swallowed up by them, melt into the floor and disappear from everything, that would be so much better than the pain that ravaged her heart.

“Danny,” she managed to whisper to herself. There was no one else to hear his name, but she needed to say it. “Oh, Danny.”

It was a while before she was about to breathe normally again, and she didn't move until she felt sure she was steady. Then she stood carefully, propped herself against the counter, and paused a moment, just breathing.

“I won't give up on you,” she promised weakly.

Because if she did, if she followed his directions and left him alone, what would happen to him? How would he survive without the hope of her love flickering at the end of his tunnel? It was a heavy promise to make. It thickened in her chest and she waited for it to settle in for the duration.
For better or worse,
they had said. Please God, let this be the worst.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her grief away, determined to temporarily change direction and do something for herself. She'd been looking forward to this women's meeting, had even pulled together a couple of posters she'd made for the London women. Maybe she'd show them what she'd done in the past. Perhaps she could be of some help here too.