A Man Worth Marrying

by Phyllis Halldorson

  "Eve, I know how shocked and humiliated you were when Bambi barged in on us the other day. I was, too, but I've taken steps to make sure that never happens again."

  "I don't want to hear it, Gray. I only agreed to see you to tell you I'm moving."

  He waited a few seconds for her to go on, but she didn't.

  "Moving?" he asked. "What's the matter? Don't you like this apartment? I can't think why you wouldn't. It's comfortable and convenient."

  "No, Gray, you don't understand," she said, and sat up straight. "I'm moving to Lincoln, Nebraska."

  "Nebraska? You mean you're going to visit someone in Lincoln?"

  She shook her head. "No, I'm leaving Rapid City to relocate, at least for the next year, in Lincoln."

  He tried to gather his shattered concentration. There must be something he was missing, something he should have picked up on, but didn't. "But why? Have you had a falling out with your family?"

  "No, my darling," she said sadly. "I've had a falling out with you. I can't live this way any longer. I was raised with a different set of values. I want a husband and children, and I want my husband to love me unconditionally."

  Gray tried to assimilate what Eve was saying. This must be some kind of joke she was playing on him, but that couldn't be. Eve wasn't a cruel person, she'd never torment him like this; she was sweet and loving and kind.

  "You aren't offering me any of that," she continued. "But for some reason I love you anyhow. I know the only way I can break up with you and make it stick is to move away, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm enrolling at the University of Nebraska to get the credentials that will qualify me to teach children with learning disabilities in the public schools."

  "When?" Surely he could talk her out of this madness before she actually put her plan into action.

  "As soon as possible," she said, and he noticed her voice was unsteady, too. "Certainly by the end of next week, and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now, and not get in touch with me again."

  "Eve, you can't mean that," he blurted. "At least give us a chance to work this out. I can't even fathom life without you."

  He could see this was no time to try to reason with her. It would be better to wait a few days until they were both calmer.

  He stood and looked down at her. "All right, I'll leave," he said softly. "But I'll be back. You can't dismiss me that easily. I love you too much to let you just walk out of my life—"

  Eve gasped and looked stunned.

  "What?" Gray said, startled. "What did I say?"

  "You…you've never told me you loved me before." Her voice was only slightly above a whisper.

  "I must have," he insisted, but now he was almost certain he hadn't. He'd become so used to denying his deeper feelings for her that they'd sneaked up on him without his acknowledging them.

  Well, he could fix that quickly enough. He put his arms around her before she could protest, and held her close. "Sweetheart, if I haven't told you how much I love you, then I'm sorry, but how could you not know? I can hardly bear to let you out of my sight. And when we're together, I can't keep my hands off you. You're the beat of my heart, the joy of my life."

  She felt him nuzzle her neck and, still in shock from his declaration of love, Eve surrendered to his embrace and let herself listen to his impassioned words. She loved and needed him, too, so why was it so difficult for them to get together and live happily ever after?

  Actually, she knew the answer, had always known it. But she didn't want to face it right now. She wanted to stay encircled by his arms for the next few minutes and pretend that everything was all right. That all obstacles had been removed, now that he'd faced the fact that he loved her and had told her so.

  "I won't ask you to take me at my word," he murmured against her ear. "I'll prove it. Marry me, Eve, and I'll do my best to make you happy."

  Once more; shock bolted through her and her body stiffened. There they were—the magic words. Marry me! Only they weren't magic anymore. They had come too late. If he'd asked her before she had told him she was moving away, she'd have said yes and been ecstatic, but now it was too much like emotional blackmail.

  Now that he'd admitted his love for her, she couldn't do that to him. It would put her in the same class as Bambi. As time went on, they'd both grow bitter; he would have been forced into a marriage he hadn't wanted, and she would know that he'd married her because it was the only way they could have sex without guilt.

  She strengthened her resolve and pushed away from him. "No, Gray, it's too late for that now. You were right all along. You don't want a wife—you already have a family. And I want to get my special education teaching credentials."

  She walked to the door and opened it. "Thank you for the proposal. I'm truly sorry I can't accept, and, please, be kind when you tell Tinker why I didn't come to see her before I left."

  It struck the next morning while Eve was brushing her teeth. That funny tickle, like a cool breeze blowing across her nape, that invariably forecast a change in the weather. After all these years, it was so familiar that she seldom paid attention to it, unless it became a full-blown headache.

  Speaking of full-blown aches, the one she was suffering from now was an ache in her heart. When she'd told Gray she was moving to Nebraska, she hadn't counted on him telling her that he loved her and wanted to marry her. That really shocked her. She'd tossed and turned and finally paced the floor all night pondering it.

  But torment over Gray wasn't all she suffered from. As the hours went by, the tingle in her nape escalated, demanding to be recognized. Fortunately the national weather forecasts were for unsettled conditions, too, so there was no reason for her to mention her premonition to anybody. It was getting colder and cloudy, but that wasn't unusual for this time of year.

  She hadn't heard from Gray since she'd sent him away, but she hadn't expected to. She had plenty of things to prepare to leave; she was too busy to brood. That is, until she finally crawled into bed that night. Then the anguish started, and she lay awake for hours.

  The next morning, Monday, Eve tuned in to Gray's five o'clock forecast. She couldn't sleep, and she needed the sound of his voice even if she couldn't have the touch of his hand.

  To her surprise, he was predicting a warmer trend with temperatures up from the past few days. But that didn't coincide with her quirky neck. As sharp as it was, he should be forecasting rain and wind.

  Her first impulse was to call him, but then she backed off. No, she wasn't going through that again. She'd been rebuffed altogether too often by forecasters, even though it later turned out she was usually right. She was going to ignore the whole thing and not say anything to anybody.

  The forecast at noon was for clear skies and warm temperatures, but her neck disagreed. It was still muttering storm. Again she was tempted to call Gray, but she wanted so badly to see him, talk to him, that now she wasn't sure that she wasn't exaggerating the discomfort in her nape as an excuse to get in touch.

  She couldn't do that. Not after telling him she didn't want to see him or hear from him again.

  The minute she woke the following day, Eve knew Rapid City was in for a great deal of upheaval weather-wise. Her nape not only tingled, it was in absolute turmoil.

  It had never been this strong. Her neck was so stiff that she could hardly turn her head, and pain branched out into her shoulders.

  She struggled out of bed and went over to look out the window. The sky was overcast, and the trees bowed in the wind. Possibly torrential rain? She wouldn't be surprised—there wouldn't be anything unusual about that at this time of year.

  Ten minutes under a brisk warm shower left her feeling better. She was able to ignore the disturbance in her nape as she dressed and fixed breakfast, turning on the radio that broadcast news and weather continuously.

  Today the forecast was for wind and overcast skies in the morning, with clearing in the afternoon. That was not what her neck said, but should she call Gray and tell him? She knew he wo
uldn't give any credence to her neck twinges. After all, what did she know? He was the meteorologist who got paid for knowing what was going to happen next, and even she had to admit that her predictions weren't always right.

  Still, she wasn't going to take a chance. She couldn't be responsible for property damage and people being injured if a storm of major proportions hit, and she'd done nothing to alert the population.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Gray's number at the station. "Gray, this is Eve," she said when he answered.

  "Eve!" He sounded relieved. "Oh, sweetheart, I've been hoping you'd call—"

  "Please, listen, Gray," she interrupted. "This isn't about that. I—I think you should know we're going to have a storm later today," she said hesitantly. "A bad one."

  He cleared his throat. "What are you talking about? There's a low coming through with unsettled weather conditions, but nothing to worry about. You haven't been listening to my forecasts."

  "But I have," she assured him, "and they're wrong. There's a storm headed for us, and it includes a lot of wind. I can't really say how I know." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "Some people say their arthritis acts up or their corn hurts when there's about to be a change in the weather, but I don't have any aches or pains. It's just a feeling… sort of a tingle at the back of my neck that alerts me. And the more intense the storm, the stronger the tingle. It's not always right on the button, but I'd say it's more accurate than your weather forecasting instruments."

  "I know it sounds silly," she admitted, "but I woke this morning with the strongest sensation I've ever had, and it's getting stronger. Obviously, the weather bureau isn't picking it up, so I'm hoping you will alert the station and ask them to at least warn their listeners that a bad storm might be on the way."

  "Eve, I can't do that," he said. "Even with the most technical instruments, none of us is right all the time. I can't predict a storm based on the strength of a tingle in your neck."

  "I know that," she admitted. "But Gray, it's usually right."

  "Usually," he said sadly. "I'd do almost anything you asked, love, but 'usually' isn't strong enough for anything as major as issuing a storm warning. I'll promise you one thing, though. I'll keep an eye on the reports we get in here at the station, and if there are any changes, I'll do what I can to see they're broadcast immediately."

  Eve hung up. If Gray wouldn't help her, then she'd have to do what she could about getting the word out on her own. She glanced out the window. In just the past few minutes the storm had escalated. The wind had picked up, and it was raining.

  Picking up the phone again she dialed her mother, told her the situation, and asked her to take the battery-operated radio and the portable telephone and go to the basement. She asked her mom to start calling everybody she knew and tell them there was a severe storm coming, and to take shelter immediately.

  Her mother had had years of experience with Eve's weather predictions, and had learned not to question them.

  Eve's second call was to Bambi's house. If Gray wouldn't take Eve seriously, then she had to at least make sure Tinker was safe. But she got a busy signal.

  "Damn!" she muttered, and dialed the operator to ask for an emergency break-through, but she got no response. Apparently, some of the telephone lines were down. The storm was vicious and it was approaching fast.

  Eve put on her raincoat, grabbed her cell phone and her battery-operated radio, and rushed out the door. The wind whipped the rain, which in turn beat against Eve as she clutched the rail and fought her way down the stairs. She stopped first in the office to alert them and ask that they contact the other tenants in the building. To her great relief, the apartment manager said the first storm warning had just been broadcast over the radio.

  It had been less than half an hour since she spoke to Gray on the phone.

  Again Eve called Bambi's house, this time on her cell phone, but still she got a busy signal.

  She hung up and debated whether to just go over to the house and make sure everything was all right, or to call Gray. She knew he'd be awfully busy tracking the storm now that it had finally made itself known, but on the other hand it was downright dangerous to be out in it.

  Without further thought, she dialed Gray, but although she let the phone ring on and on, nobody answered.

  That left Eve no other option but to go to the house herself, and make sure Bambi and Tinker were all right. Gray would never forgive himself if anything happened to them because he refused to believe they were in danger.

  She gave a brief explanation to the apartment manager and then drove to Bambi's house. When she arrived, she ran up to the front door and turned the knob. It opened, but even before she stepped inside, she heard music blaring throughout the structure.

  "Bambi!" she called as she glanced frantically around the room. There was no response, which wasn't surprising. She could barely hear herself over the noise.

  "Bambi!" This time it was a yell, and at the same time she pulled the plug on the stereo.

  "Hey, what's going on?" Bambi called from the back of the house. "Tinker, is that you? Turn that back on."

  Eve found Bambi sitting at a table in the kitchen, polishing her nails, with the telephone to one ear.

  Bambi looked up, surprised, as Eve stormed into the room. "What are you doing here—?"

  "Hang up that phone!" Eve ordered, and even to herself she sounded furious and threatening.

  Obviously Bambi thought so, too, because her eyes widened and she quickly did as she was told.

  "Where's Tinker?" Eve asked.

  Bambi looked bewildered. "I sent her to the store to get some diet cola and a Sweet Cherry lipstick to match my nail polish." She held out her hand. "See. Isn't it pretty? It's the latest color—"

  Eve was furious. "Are you telling me you sent an eight-year-old child out to get diet cola and lipstick?"

  Bambi's expression chilled. "Now look here, lady, don't go telling me how to raise my kid—"

  "Which store?" she demanded.

  Bambi backed down. "The…the supermarket on the corner of 48th and J streets," Bambi answered.

  Eve gasped. "But that's at least eight blocks each way. When did she leave here?"

  "Just a few minutes—" Bambi started to say, then glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped up. "Oh, darn, I didn't realize it was so late. Sandy called and we got to talking and—"

  "Is there any chance Tinker's home now?" Eve interrupted.

  Bambi shook her head, still looking bewildered. "I don't think so. That is, if she is, I didn't hear her come in. But the music was kind of loud, and Sandy was talking…"

  "For goodness' sake, stop chattering and listen to me," Eve said angrily. "What's the matter with you? How could you send your little girl out in a storm like this?"

  Bambi blinked. "What storm? I didn't know it was storming—"

  Just then a bolt of lightning followed by a crack of thunder silenced them both, and Bambi's look changed from bewilderment to terror. "Oh, no! My baby! Where's my baby?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Bambi started to ran out of the room, but Eve caught her arm and kept her there. "Calm down and start acting like a responsible adult," Eve remonstrated. "I need your help. I'll search the house to see if Tinker's home, and you phone the store and ask if she's still there. Hurry, time could be crucial."

  Eve searched every room, including the basement, all the while calling Tinker's name. Nothing.

  "Any luck?" she asked Bambi when she got back to the kitchen.

  "No, none," Bambi said as she hung up the phone. "They even paged her on the p.a. system, but she's not there. Oh, Eve, what am I going to do? Gray will be so mad when he finds out I sent Tinker out in this storm, but I didn't know it was this bad. We don't have to tell him, do we?"

  Eve ground her teeth in frustration. The woman was more concerned about Gray's being mad at her than she was about their daughter's safety! Eve had never before understood just how scatterbrained Bamb
i really was. No wonder Gray stayed so close to them. He had good reason to worry about Tinker's well-being.

  Eve swallowed the scathing words that threatened to tumble out, and concentrated on what had to be done. "Take your portable radio and go downstairs," she said, her tone defying argument. "Turn it on to the news, and if Tinker should come home, take her to the basement with you and stay there until I come back. Meanwhile, I'll look for her with the car."

  Eve turned and ran out of the house. On the way to the car, a gust of wind and rain nearly knocked her over. Once in the vehicle, she started the motor and switched on the radio to find that every station was broadcasting severe storm warnings with tornado-force winds. The thick black clouds rumbled and spit long bolts of jagged lightning followed by claps of deafening thunder. Eve maintained a white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel as she pulled away from the curb and fought to keep the car in the right lane.

  Frantically, Eve drove up one street and down the other, straining to see as sheets of rain slashed the windshield. All she saw was debris and tree limbs flying by; she felt the occasional jolt as some of it smashed against her car.

  Eve shuddered and murmured prayers for Tinker's safety.

  Then, when she'd almost given up all hope of keeping the vehicle on the street, she made one last turn. And there in the headlights she saw a small figure huddled under a large bush and clutching its trunk to keep from being blown away.

  Eve slammed on her brakes and fought to open the door that was being held shut by the wind. She had managed to stop the car with the headlights still pointing at the bush. She pushed the door open and laboriously struggled to the shrub and put out her arm. "Here," she said to the still unidentified person who had her head down to protect her face from the driving wind and rain. "Grab my hand and hold on to it—tight."

  "No!" said a small voice. "I'll blow away."