Hidden Past – Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Hidden Past

Angela Morris flushed, tried to mask her humiliation and discomfort, and reacted with all the casualness she could muster. “Pardon me? No, my name is Angela. Angela Morris.”

Joan rushed into the gap, saying, “You know, Fredrik, I’ve told you about Angela—she’s my new very good friend. She lives in the Mediterranean and is an excellent golfer.”

“And I’m Angela’s husband Austin. You must be Joan.” The confident man had lost some of his poise, but no one seemed to notice.

Joan was so pleased, so nearly exuberant that she had found a woman with a nice husband whom Fredrik seemed to like. The two men had been talking for quite a while, she had observed.

Socializing and building a social life was not easy. Joan wanted to be social, to gain acceptance in this society she and her husband had become part of, but Fredrik didn’t seem particularly interested. So many times she and Fredrik had met another couple, had tried to build a friendship, but efforts (mostly hers) had quietly fizzled. Both the other husband and wife had liked Joan, but they didn’t care much for Fredrik; too straitlaced, too serious, and not much fun.

Perhaps this time, things would be different. She was so hopeful, she readily forgot Fredrik’s calling Angela by the wrong name. It was not unusual for Fredrik to make some sort of faux pas.

But the three other folks did not forget. Austin, being the kind, considerate, mostly forgiving gentleman that he was, did not want to make an issue out of it. In fact, he did not even mention it to Angela that night as she laid her head on his shoulder while the limo sped north on Livingston toward their majestic home in Mediterra. He wasn’t sure if he would ever mention it.

Angela was desperately trying to cover her fear, which felt like terror, as she thought about the awkward moment she was called Marie. She hadn’t been called that in a long time, another lifetime ago in fact. She prayed to God that Austin hadn’t quite heard it.

Please, God, don’t let Austin find out about me, about my past. I’ve changed, you know that! I never wanted to live my past life the way I did. I promised that if I could ever escape that life, I would never go back. Please, God, let me keep what I have. Let me be forgiven!

* * *

Fredrik’s steel-trap mind was very sharp. He never forgot a face and rarely forgot a name, particularly if the two belonged to a beautiful woman and especially if the beautiful woman was one with whom he had gone to bed. This was one time he was glad his wife Joan was not especially detailed; she may have perceived that he had called her new friend Marie, but she would forget.