“I’m sorry you don’t feel well.” The woman patted Christy’s hand sympathetically. “My husband used to get headaches, too.”
Christy opened her eyes. “Don’t tell me. They were the cluster kind?”
“I don’t think so.” The woman’s brows drew together. “I think they were just the plain ones. Tension, I believe is the medical term. I’ve got some aspirin in my purse. Would you like a couple?”
“Thank you, but I just took some.” Christy immediately felt guilty. Why did one lie always seem to lead to another?
“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon,” Agnes said in a reassuring grandmotherly voice. “Do you want to talk? George often said that talking helped keep his mind off the pain. But I never knew if he was telling the truth or only being kind.”
“Kind?” Asking questions would only encourage the woman, but for some reason Christy couldn’t stop herself.
Agnes’s face turned pink. “George knew how nervous flying made me. Looking back, I suspect he let me chatter as much to help me as to help him.”
For the first time Christy noticed the tight grip Agnes had on her black patent-leather purse and the way the elderly woman tensed when the plane gave an unexpected lurch.
“I think keeping my mind off the pain might help.” Christy smiled at the woman. “If you wouldn’t mind if we visited…”
Relief flooded the softly lined face. “That would be lovely.”
Christy thought quickly. Normally she didn’t mind talking about herself, but today that was the last thing she wanted to do. “Tell me about your husband. He sounds like a nice guy.”
“He was.” A profound sadness filled the older woman’s eyes.
“Was?”
“He died the day before Christmas.” Agnes drew a shaky breath. “He had a heart attack.”
Christy squeezed Agnes’s arm sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”
“He went quickly. The doctors said he didn’t suffer.” Agnes unclasped her purse, reached inside and pulled out a lace handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes before continuing. “I can’t complain. God blessed us with sixty-five wonderful years of marriage.”
Sixty-five years. A lifetime.
Christy couldn’t imagine waking up next to a man for all those years and then one day having him not there. “You must miss him.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how much.” Agnes’s eyes took on a faraway look. “We’d known each other since we were in grammar school.”
“So you were childhood sweethearts?”
“Goodness, no.” Agnes’s unexpected laugh took Christy by surprise. “Up until I was eighteen I was convinced George Moore was the last man on earth I’d ever want at my side. Oh, he was a good-looking fellow, but much too arrogant for my taste.”
“Really?” Intrigued, Christy leaned forward. “How did you two end up together?”
“It was during the Depression. There were eight children in my family and I was the oldest. His father and mine were friends and they farmed next to each other. They decided that George and I should marry. That was it.”
“Surely not.” Christy’s eyes widened. “They wouldn’t have just arranged the marriage and not given you a choice.”
“Things were different then,” Agnes said. “Those were hard times. But they didn’t force us. What they were proposing made sense, and we agreed.”
“But what was it like?” Christy said softly. “Being married to someone you didn’t love?”
“I’d like to say it was wonderful, but that would be a lie. And the only thing I lie about now is my age.” Agnes’s smile flashed before she turned pensive. “We had a rough year or two.”
“How did you make it?”
“Sometimes I wonder.” Agnes shook her head, and for a second Christy feared the older woman was going to leave it at that.
But she must have sensed Christy was truly interested, because she took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t know about George, but for me it was a couple of things. It started when I made up my mind I was going to be happy. After all, I was going to be married to this man for a long time and what was my alternative? To be miserable and spend my life wishing it was different?”
“You could have gotten a divorce,” Christy said. “I know it wasn’t as common as it is today, but it was still an option.”
“Not for me it wasn’t.” Agnes shook her head. “When I stood in front of that minister and said ‘until death do us part’ I made a promise to the Lord. The Good Book says that the Lord will never forsake you and I had to trust that if I stuck to my word, He would stick to His. And He did. In time George and I grew to love each other and we were blessed with many happy years together.”
Christy lowered her gaze and pondered the woman’s words.
“Are you calling someone?” Agnes gestured to the phone lying in Christy’s lap.
Christy’s hand rose to the tiny cross around her neck. Could she be as strong as this remarkable woman beside her?
“I was going to, but I’ve changed my mind.” Christy smiled at the woman and placed the phone back in its holder. “I’d much rather talk to you.”
Chapter Five
“My dear, this is going to be a banner year.” Tom Alvarez, Christy’s publicist, raised his coffee cup in a mock salute. “Getting married in Las Vegas on Valentine’s Day was a stroke of genius.”
Christy took a sip of her iced tea and resisted the urge to tell him again that it hadn’t been planned, it had just happened. “Have you firmed up any of those talk show appearances?”
Since her marriage last week, Tom had already put together half a dozen deals and was working on several others. He’d been trying unsuccessfully for several years to book her on some of the nationally syndicated talk shows, but until recently they’d showed little interest. Now, since the wedding, they’d been calling him.
“Actually…” He lowered his voice as if afraid someone might overhear, even though they were the only customers in the small Chicago café. “I just got the word this morning. It’s a definite for Veronica Storm.”
“That’s fabulous, Tom.” Christy couldn’t help but be impressed. Veronica Storm was the trendy host of what many considered to be the up-and-coming talk show in Chicago.
“I knew you’d be pleased.” Tom grinned. “You’ll tape the segment in front of a live audience next week.”
“So soon?” Christy’s mind raced. There were so many details to work out—what to wear, what to say—and a week wasn’t that much time. A horrible thought struck her. “I’m supposed to be in St. Louis next week.”
“Veronica Storm is your priority now.” Tom’s tone brooked no argument. “What’s in St. Louis, anyway?”
“My husband,” Christy said pointedly. “Remember him?”
Actually Christy didn’t blame Tom for forgetting. Surprisingly, once she’d returned to Chicago, it had been relatively easy for even her to forget about him. She’d been busy from the time she got up until she sank exhausted into her bed at night. Only then, just before she fell asleep, did David invade her thoughts.