Pride's Prejudice

Pride's
Prejudice

by Misty
Dawn Pulsipher

Copyright ©
2013 by Misty Dawn Pulsipher

Cover
design by Cindy Canizales

Cover photo
by Shutterstock

ISBN-13:
978-1484917848

ISBN-10:
1484917847

"It
is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure
of judging properly at first."

~Elizabeth
Bennet, Pride & Prejudice

PROLOGUE

"Preserve
yourself from first love…..and you need not fear a second."

~Jane
Austen's Juvenilia

She
blinks, trying to clear the gauzy film from her eyes.  When she scrubs her
fingertips across her eyelids, the blur only thickens.  She sits up
quickly, regretting it at once.  Her head pulses painfully and the room
tilts sideways.  Hoping the counter pressure will ease the throbbing, she
splays her hands across her skull.  When she opens her eyes a few moments
later, her heartbeat quickens.

Casting
her mind back through layers of fog, she tries to remember something - anything
- about how she ended up here…….

The
pressure of his hand on the small of her back was comforting.  Faces swam
in and out of her path, but none she recognized.  She shrank into herself,
trying to press further into the flat of his hand.  There wasn't a time
when he hadn't been there.

He led
her to a couch, upholstered in a sickly shade of seventies gold. 
"This is Johnny and Hal," he said, gesturing to the strangers.

She
smiled uncertainly as her new acquaintances waved lazily from the shabby sofa.

"They
won't hurt you," he murmured against her hair, as if reading her
thoughts.  "I'll be right back with some drinks."

She
shivered at the brush of his lips against her ear.  When he left her side
she suddenly felt small and unsteady.  A tiny boat, anchorless in a
chaotic ocean.

Hal
patted the sofa next to him, and she swallowed down revulsion at the thought of
being near him.  The air was thick with the scent of body odor and
alcohol.  Sitting down, she sandwiched her hands between her knees to keep
them from trembling.

The
tightness in her chest dissipated when he returned several minutes later, a
clear plastic cup in each hand.  He handed her the dark, fizzy one with a
cherry bobbing on the surface, keeping the amber one for himself.  She
sniffed experimentally at her own drink as he sat next to her.

"Don't
worry," he chuckled.  "I know you don't want to drink - don't I
always take care of you?"  He brushed a tendril of hair back from her
cheek, securing it behind her ear.

Of
course he would.  He always had.  She snuggled into the crook of his
arm, feeling less small, less lost.

As she
sipped her eyes met his, which were brighter than usual.

"I
love you," he confessed, in a ragged voice - as if he could barely contain
the emotion.

It was
the first time he'd said the words.  The first time anyone had spoken
those words to her, romantically, at least.  A geyser of happiness erupted
within her.  This feeling was a worthy prize for coming here tonight. 
He kissed her gently, but she could tell it was difficult for him to be so
careful.  His mouth tasted slightly bitter, and the geyser faltered a
bit.  So, he wasn't drinking Ginger ale.  Of course she had
known.  But she'd been hoping she was wrong.

"I
love you, too," she said as she pulled away, and she meant it. 
Drinking deeply from her own cup, she tried to rinse away the taste.

He
watched her with icy cool eyes as she drained her cup.

……..A
single tear glides down her cheek, the prequel to an oncoming deluge.  A
sick feeling laces through her insides like a parasite.  It takes up
residence in the dark recesses of her heart and mind.  Could he have
possibly done this to her?  Was he, the love of her life, capable of using
and discarding her like this?  The glimmering castle of her girlhood hopes
burns down, leaving a heap of smoldering ash in its place.

~ PART ONE
~

ANNOUNCEMENTS

"….let
me have only the company of the people I love, let me only be where I like and
with whom I like, and the devil take the rest, say I."

~Jane
Austen

The
insistent beep of his i-phone interrupted his business call.  He pulled
the device away from his ear long enough to see the number flashing impatiently
on the screen.  He didn't usually "click" over, especially when
he was working - but he always answered for her.  The trouble was, the
client on the line didn't seem to be on board with his familial priorities, and
the call was far from over.  His irritation welled up and peaked as she
gave up and her call died off.  Several minutes later he was able to slip
smoothly out of the conversation with his client, pledging to put something
together on his end and follow up in a few days.

Running
a hand through his already tousled hair, he sat heavily on his bed.  He
had known working from "home" so to speak would be tricky, but what
did you do when your only real friend in the world was in over his head on his
latest home makeover?  You took whatever vacation days you had left, flew across
the country, and installed yourself in the spare bedroom with your laptop.

When
he dialed her back, she answered with a quavering voice, and her nose sounded
stuffy.

"It's
a girl," she announced tearfully.

He
paused, dumbfounded, clueless how to answer.  "You had another
ultrasound?"

"She
decided to cooperate this time," she sniffed, voice subdued yet strained
as she tried to laugh.

Nothing
about this was funny.

"I've
been thinking of names……."

"Sis,"
he chided, wincing at the reprimanding tone of his voice.  He hadn't meant
to react that way.

"I
know," she acknowledged with remorse.

He
adjusted his tone, softened it.  "Have you thought about our
talk?"

As she
sobbed quietly, something sharp twisted in his ribs.  He absolutely hated
it when she cried.  A long silence passed, filled with the sounds of her
efforts to pull it together.

In
desperation he suggested, "I'll come home.  I'll be there by
tomorrow, okay?  You don't have to do this alone.  You don't need to
decide anything now.  We can work it out after I get back."

"No." 
Her reply was hard, so she backpedaled.  "It's just…..I need to be
alone right now.  I've made my decision."  She paused again,
drawing in a deep breath.  "This is the only time I'll have with
her."

When
he answered, he worked to conceal his eagerness.  "So you've decided
-"

"Adoption,"
she finished for him, emotionless.

He
breathed relief, quietly enough that it wouldn't filter into the call. 
"Let me come home, Gi.  You need the support right now."

A
humorless laugh answered him.  "You can't baby me forever,
William.  Besides, Diosa is here all day and she takes care of everything,
including me.  She's teaching me to play pinochle."

"You'd
rather be with the maid all day than with me?"

"Don't
take it the wrong way," she warned.  "She's had six children and
she understands what I'm going through.  She's even teaching me some
Lamaze
. 
You would just be in the way."

Obviously,
she was lying.  Putting on a brave face - or voice, rather - so he
wouldn't charge home to the rescue.  The fact was, he knew he really
couldn't help right now - no matter how hard he tried.  His anger over the
circumstances would make life unbearable for her, and it was the last thing she
needed.  Maybe the best thing would be to acquiesce.  It was the one
thing he could give her - his absence.

After
ending the call he went to
Flowers.com
on his i-phone and ordered three
dozen white roses to be delivered.  He had agonized over the color. 
Red made him think of blood.  Yellow seemed too happy.  Pink would
remind her of the baby girl she was carrying.  Finally he chose white,
hoping she would look forward to a clean beginning in a few months.  When
it came to the card he got stumped again. 
Congratulations
was
definitely inappropriate. 
My Condolences
was worse.  He
deliberated for several moments.  In the end he chose,
Call me and I'll
be on the next plane home.

Fishing
his credit card out of his wallet, he completed the order and then tossed his
phone on the bed in frustration.  He raked his hands through his hair
again, feeling like he was drowning in helplessness.  Returning his
attention to the open suitcases on the bed, he abandoned his systematic
unpacking, ripped out their insides, and shoved all the contents into the
dresser against the wall.  He chucked the suitcases onto the floor of the
bedroom that he would call home for the next few weeks.  Then he fell
backward onto the bed and glared at the ceiling, consumed with self-loathing.

Half
an hour later a shaggy blonde head poked around his door, breaking into his
dark thoughts.  "Dude, you ready?"

Going
to a college charity auction to benefit orphaned children was
absolutely
the last thing he felt like doing.  What he felt like was punching
someone.  Perhaps he could offer to start demolition in the kitchen
instead.  One look at his friend's bursting-with-joy face was enough to
put the idea to bed.

"Yeah,"
he answered, resigned.  "Let me just change first."

~:~

Beth's
sigh preceded her into the bathroom. Jenna stood in front of the mirror,
twisting tendrils of golden hair around a large-barreled curling iron. Beth
wrapped her arms around Jenna's shoulders, meshing their reflections for an
instant. It was like looking at Snow White and Rose Red in the flesh.  The
girls couldn't have been more different - in appearance as well as personality. 
Beth's eyes and hair were dark; Jenna's hair was light, and her eyes were a
pale green-blue.

"How
do you stay so pretty?" Beth asked, exasperated.

"You're
biased."

"I
don't think so. You know how critical I can be."

Jenna
raised her eyebrows skeptically before taking in Beth's appearance. 
"You look tired."

Beth
sighed again, heaving herself onto the bathroom counter and resting her back
against the wall. "It's been one of those weeks. I think I'll skip guitar
tonight. I'm exhausted."

Jenna
jerked the curling iron cord out of the outlet and began spritzing
hairspray.  "Too tired for the Orphaned Children Benefit I signed us
up for?"

Beth
bumped her head softly against the wall. "Ugh. I forgot about that. Can't
I just send you with some cash?"

Jenna
smiled angelically. "Beth. It's for
the children.
"

Beth
rolled her eyes. "Just drag me out now, Jenna. You know you always get
your way."

Jenna
looked hurt. "When, in the last fifteen years, have I made you do
anything?"

"Maybe
not physically, but you have your methods."

Jenna
pivoted Beth around by the shoulders to face the mirror, then began brushing
out her hair. "I'll buy you a Dr. Pepper on the way....."

Beth
glowered at her best friend in the mirror. "Better be a
big
one."

Beth
felt herself relax a little more with each brushstroke, and couldn't keep
herself from smiling at her best friend, at least mentally.  She knew that
such enduring relationships weren't commonplace, and she mentally thanked
whatever force had brought them together countless times.  Jenna had moved
into Beth's small town when both girls were four.  This, and the fact that
they shared a backyard divided only by a shabby wooden fence, had been the
perfect breeding ground for their friendship.  Beth allowed herself to be
pulled into amiable childhood memories as Jenna plaited her dark hair into twin
braids down her back.