A Tradition of Pride Read Free Page A

she smiled and tried to look blank. "Yes, you do," her friend answered patiently. "And I want to know what's happened to change you."
    "I haven't changed," Lara protested. There was suddenly nothing for her nervous hands to do and she reached again for the cigarette pack sitting on the table.
    "Of course not," Angie agreed with tongue in cheek. "Which is why the Lara, who two years ago could hardly be persuaded to have a cigarette at a bar, is now chain-smoking."
    "Smoking isn't a crime—a health hazard, but not a crime." She set the pack down, avoiding her friend's gaze.
    "And you've become defensive. The openness I remember is gone. Each time I ask anything that remotely resembles a personal question, you withdraw. There isn't any other way to describe it. Oh, you answer me," Angie laughed abruptly without humor, "but it's always a standard response that tells nothing. I've done all the talking with my Bob this and Bob that. You've barely mentioned Trevor's name. What's wrong?"
    Lara stared at her twisting fingers. "It's the classic syndrome in every marriage." Her voice was hard and deliberately uncaring. "Didn't you recognize it? It's commonly known as 'the honeymoon is over.'  "
    "Nothing is as simple as that." The dark curls bounced in a definite negative shake. "At your wedding, you were happier than I had ever seen you. Something has to have happened to make that change."
    Her fingers wearily rubbed her forehead. A pain had begun to throb in her temples. "Maybe I was happy then. I don't remember anymore," Lara sighed. "I was a stupid, blind little bride, lost in a fantasy world of romance complete with a tall, dark and handsome Prince Charming."
    "Trevor…" Angie hesitated. "Doesn't he love you?"
    "Of course." Lara's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I'm Lara Alexander. He also loves Julie, Ann, Connie—speak a girl's name and he loves her. But I'm Lara Alexander so he married me."
    "Are you sure? I mean, about the other women?"
    "Oh, yes." She took a deep breath, pressing her lips tightly together. She hadn't expected to feel pain about that again, but it wasn't really pain. It was pride. "I am very sure about the other women."
    A hand closed over the clasped fingers in Lara's lap. Her green eyes met the look of commiseration glistening in Angie's dark eyes. But Lara's own expression remained blank from long practice.
    "How did you find out?" Angie whispered.
    "Not quite three months after the wedding, Trevor called the house one afternoon to tell me he was going to be working late on some reports daddy wanted. Me, in my rose-colored glasses and with grains of rice still in my hair, decided to surprise him. I packed a dinner and wrapped a bottle of champagne in a cooler and went tripping along to the office. I expected to find him poring over papers on his desk. Instead he was on the couch with his blond secretary."
    "Lara, I'm sorry." The offer of sympathy was issued tautly. "What did he say? Did he explain?"
    "There wasn't a great deal to explain, was there?" Lara countered dryly. "I left the office immediately and Trevor came rushing home full of explanations. We had an enormous fight. I went around for days silently weeping and wailing and beating my chest trying to figure out what I had done wrong. Then I became filled with bitterness and revenge and flirted outrageously with any man I met, trying to pay Trevor back and make him jealous."
    "Didn't he promise to stop?" Angie frowned.
    Lara nodded mutely. "And for a while I believed him." Her impassive green eyes slid to the tortured expression on her friend's face. "You would be surprised at the depths you sink to when you stop trusting your husband. I went through his personal papers and found rent receipts for an apartment in Hattiesburg. It was his private little love nest. I couldn't be sure he still used it after his promise, so I followed him one day when he made a trip into town, ostensibly to meet an attorney friend. Them meeting turned out to be an