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"You care about her," she said with surprise.
"What did you think?"
"I wasn't sure. I thought it was an obligation, or that you were doing it because it annoyed people."
"I'm flattered by your high opinion of me."
She waved her hand at him. "Don't be that way. You know what I meant. But it's more than that. You really love her."
He shifted on his chair, but didn't deny her statement. "Bonnie's easy to love," he said. "She doesn't care about who my parents are or aren't. When she does find out, it will just bring us closer. She doesn't care about the town, or what it thinks. She gives with her whole heart. There's no holding back. No lies."
Megan raised her hand to her cheek as if she could feel the physical imprint of his verbal slap. Bonnie was easy to love for all the reasons she, Megan, had left him. Bonnie was honest, Bonnie didn't care about the town, Bonnie didn't he. Bonnie gave without question.
Megan walked to the window and stared out onto the street. She recognized most of the people walking by or riding in wagons. She knew the sounds of Landing, the seasons, the changes. Justin was right. She'd loved her position, her reputation and good name more than she'd ever loved him.
Loving him had been the most wonderful thing she'd ever done, and the hardest. No matter how much she'd cared, there'd been no sense of rightness or freedom. In the deepest part of her heart, she'd known it wasn't meant to be. She didn't have the courage to walk away from everything. She didn't trust him enough. The fear had been bigger and stronger than both of them.
Those idyllic months, that perfect summer, was a lifetime ago. The girl who'd promised, then broken her word was gone. Only the fear remained. She clutched at the win-dowsill, feeling the wood and the cool panes of glass. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
Justin's Bride 153
What would happen if she let go of the fear? What would happen if she gave in and did exactly what she wanted to do? She closed her eyes and thought about what had happened to her mother. She could hear her father's voice telling Colleen and herself that their mother was dead. She'd known it was a lie, but she'd been too afraid to say anything.
Afraid. There was that word again. Would she ever escape?
She thought about explaining why. Justin would listen, he might even understand. She opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The explanations didn't matter. Not anymore.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know the words don't mean much, but I want you to know what happened that day has never left me. I was wrong to react that way. I was wrong to say those things."
/ was wrong not to go with you.
But she didn't say that. It was too late for those regrets. Telling him that truth would only make her feel better.
"I know you're sorry," Justin said. He stared at Megan standing in front of the window, at the stiffness in her back and shoulders, at the way she clutched at the window frame, as if it were all that held her upright. "That doesn't change the past, or the fact that I left here alone."
He'd waited seven years to hear her apologize and mean it. He would have thought he would feel more when she said those words. There was a time he would have sold his soul to hear them from her. Now they left him empty. It was nice of her to apologize, but it didn't change what had happened. It didn't erase her betrayal.
"I know it doesn't change those facts," she said without turning around. "I wish... I suppose my wishes aren't important." She sighed. "Where did you go when you left here? I always wondered what became of you. The next morning you were just gone. The sheriff talked about rounding up a posse, then Laurie woke up and said you weren't the man who had attacked her."
Megan wore a blue calico dress, similar in style and print to the green one she'd worn the night he'd stayed for supper at her house. The night they'd kissed and he'd touched her breasts. The night he'd discovered that no matter how
he hated her, the passion between them flared as bright and hot as it ever had. That evening her hair had been down in a loose braid. Today she wore it up. She looked respectable. No blond curls defied her tightly twisted bun. She should have looked severe.
She was merely beautiful. The afternoon sun filtered through the window and illuminated the side of her neck. He'd touched that sweet skin, had tasted it and kissed it. She'd arched against him in pleasure.
