by Donna Fasano
Ben found that idea humiliating, although he sensed that Chelsea didn't mean for him to feel that way. The sigh that issued from him was forceful enough to be audible. Who knew what she meant, or what she was thinking? Her intense desire to become pregnant was blinding her to the fact that they were two human beings… human beings with emotions that needed to be recognized and dealt with. The scenario she painted just seemed wrong to him. It felt wrong, and he refused to be a part of it.
He really couldn't understand Chelsea. She obviously wanted a baby very much, but she didn't seem to show the loving and caring emotions he thought would be necessary to parent a child.
Doubting Chelsea's abilities as a mother brought to mind a question that he hadn't thought of before: How did he feel about becoming a father? The circumstances under which he would be fathering this child were so strange that he really couldn't explain how he felt. Chelsea had made it very clear that she didn't want his active participation as a parent. He'd have to learn to live with the fact that he would be a father, but he wouldn't be acting as a father. He frowned at the unexpected emptiness that the thought left him with.
More than anything, he had to realize that neither Chelsea's mothering instincts nor his thoughts of being a daddy should be his concern. He'd struck a deal with Chelsea, and he knew he must fulfill his end. And he planned to, just as soon as he and Chelsea could feel comfortable enough with each other to engage in the intimacies of sex.
The phone rang and he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Ben, it's May. Is Chelsea there?"
"Yes…"
"Is she awake?" May's tone sounded a bit frantic.
"She's up," he said. "I heard her rummaging around in her room. What's wrong, Aunt May?"
"I really need to talk to her."
"Okay," he said. "I'll call her to the phone."
Ben set down the phone receiver and went to fetch Chelsea. On his way through the house, he wondered why May would be calling Chelsea. As far as he knew the two of them were little more than working acquaintances. But then, now that he actually thought about it, Chelsea didn't seem to have any close friends. Everyone seemed to be a mere acquaintance to her. She didn't seem to let anyone into that invisible circle that was so tightly drawn around her.
He stopped outside Chelsea's bedroom and knocked.
She opened the wooden door, but Ben could clearly see from the expression on her face that the tension that had been between them since their sex discussion was locked tight into place.
"I thought you had left for work," she said.
Ben shook his head. "May's on the phone."
"For me?" Her brow furrowed.
"Um-hmm."
He stood there in the hallway and watched her walk away from him. His eyes were drawn down the length of her retreating figure. Her shiny chestnut hair hung loose, the soft curls at the ends bouncing with each step. The supple fabric of her well-worn jeans hugged her hips and thighs like butter on bread. And those hips swayed gently from side to side. He could tell her modest sashay was not intentional, but was induced by a visceral femininity. One corner of his mouth pulled into a tiny grin as he realized just how appealing he found the natural provocative movement of her body.
She rounded the corner and disappeared from his view, but his imagination easily took over, and he envisioned himself intimately embracing his wife. He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorjamb and let the image take shape. Her big brown eyes gazed up at him lovingly, and he ran his fingers along her jaw and down the silky alabaster skin of her neck. He wondered if she might gasp and lean back her head if he slid his palm even lower, over the full roundness of her breast. He imagined her eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her mouth. Closing his own eyes, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he fantasized about how her naked body would feel pressed against his, her hands playing over him, smoothing over his chest, his stomach, in a slow, erotic motion that stirred him…
"Ben?"
He snapped to attention. "What?" Startled from his reverie by the sound of Chelsea's voice, he knew his answer was a couple decibels louder than necessary. He was relieved that the shadowy hallway would hide the blaze of embarrassment that must surely be written all over his face.
A curious look crept across Chelsea's features, but thankfully she didn't ask him what he was doing standing there with a stupid, lustful smirk on his face.
For once, Ben was a tad grateful for his wife's cool, aloof nature.
"I have to go over to May's," Chelsea told him.
"Is something wrong?"
"There's a bird or something trapped in her chimney."
She swiped a lock of hair back from her face, and a deep disappointment shot through him knowing that the tenebrous shadows that hid his embarrassment a moment ago would keep him from seeing her dark eyes up close right now.
"It's probably a squirrel," he said.
"She told me she thought she heard wings flapping."
"Oh." He frowned as he walked toward her. "Could be a bat."
She nodded. "May called an exterminator who said he could come this afternoon but that he couldn't guarantee the safety of whatever's in there. So she called me, knowing I spend a lot of time around animals at the nature center and that I'd do something now."
The lock of dark hair fell onto her cheek again and Ben had to force himself not to reach up and tuck it behind her ear.
"I called the center," she continued. "But there's no one there this early. I'll go to May's myself and see if I can trap whatever's in the chimney. I told her I'll do my best, but that I couldn't promise the animal wouldn't be hurt by my efforts, either." After a moment, she added, "I'm glad she called me rather than waiting for the exterminator."
Her mouth curled into a tiny, rare smile and Ben found it alluring, so alluring in fact that he wanted to say something that would make that special smile widen even farther.
"I'm glad she called too," he said gently. "You'll have the bird's welfare in mind more than any exterminator would."
One corner of her lips did draw back a little more, but only for an instant before she nodded and turned away.
"Wait," he said. "I'll go with you."
"Oh, that's not necessary."
"But I want to," he told her. "Besides, it will give us a chance to spend a little time together today."
"But your work..." she protested.
He shrugged. "It's Saturday. I deserve some time off. I really would like to spend some time with you." Then a little hesitantly he added, "If you don't mind."
She dipped her head so he couldn't see her face and he fought the urge to reach out and tilt up her chin with his fingertips.
"I don't mind," she murmured.
Ben's spirit soared and he felt he'd somehow won a small battle.
Half an hour later, Ben watched his wife kneel close to May's fireplace and look up into the dark recesses of the chimney.
"I swear I don't see anything." Her voice was muffled.
"Maybe it flew out already," May said. "I haven't heard anything for a while."
"Could be." Ben stood beside the mantle trying to keep his eyes on his aunt, but Chelsea's shapely rear end sticking out of the fireplace opening was like a magnet.
Chelsea thumped on the inside wall of the chimney. "There he is!" she called. She ducked out of the fireplace. "I can see him now, but he's too far up for me to reach. It's a bird and it's perched on the edge of a rough brick or something up there and he's not moving. I hope he's not hurt."
Her face was so intent. She swiped at her bangs and smudged her temple with the creosote that stained her fingers. She's a beautiful woman, Ben thought. The observation entered his head in such a natural manner that it surprised him.
"I'll go up on the roof…"
"No, you won't," he cut her off. "I'll climb up there."
"Maybe if we leave him alone, the little bugger will just fly out," May said.
Chelsea shook her head. "He can't,
May. Birds fly on air currents. They can't maneuver like a helicopter, flying straight up. No, he's stuck all right."
"I'll see if I can reach it from the roof," Ben offered.
"You'd better take a broom or something with a long handle," Chelsea said. "If you can't reach him, you'll have to nudge him off his perch and I'll try to catch him down here in the hearth."
"I'm glad I called you," May commented. "It sounds like you've done this before.''
"Actually, I haven't," she said. "But I did watch it being done once. I'll be careful, I promise."
Ben positioned the ladder against the side of the house and climbed the rungs with May's best straw broom in one hand, a flashlight tucked in his pocket. He carefully crawled onto the gritty asphalt roof tiles, stood up and made his way to where the brick chimney rose above the house.
Peering down into the flue, Ben decided he needed the flashlight. He directed the beam and quickly found a small owl perched inside the chimney.
"I see it," he called down to Chelsea. "It's an owl. Small one. A baby, maybe."
"Can you reach it?"
He stuck his arm inside as far as he could and felt along the sides of the flue, then pulled his hand free.
"Damn." Wrinkling his nose, he called down, "Chels, tell May it's time to have her chimney cleaned."
The sound of Chelsea's light laughter filtered up toward him and he stopped short. Granted, it hadn't been much of a laugh, hardly a chuckle really, but he realized that this had been the first time he'd ever heard it. He found the sound of it delightful and wanted badly to hear it again.
"I'm a mess." He directed his statement so she could hear.
He was rewarded with another tinkling of her laughter and she said, "Welcome to the club."
His chest filled with a warmth he would have thought impossible when it came to Chelsea. And he found it a marvelous revelation.
"I'm going to use the broom handle," Ben said.
"Gently, Ben," she called softly. "Please remember that he's scared, and he's probably hurt."
Ever so slowly, he lowered the broom, handle side down, into the flue. It took only a tiny nudge. The owl gave a frightened shriek and plummeted into the blackness.
There was a commotion of flapping wings and screeches from the bird, and Ben's heart hammered in his chest when he heard Chelsea scream.
"Chelsea?"
She didn't answer.
When she screamed a second time, he jerked the broom from the chimney and it landed on the roof with a thump.
"Chelsea!" he yelled.
Ben scrambled toward the ladder and climbed down as fast as safety would allow. He rounded the house and burst through the front door.
The sight before him shocked him into speechlessness. Chelsea was gently cradling the small owl in her hands. She crooned soothingly, and the comfort in her tone, the expression of concern on her face was all-consuming. It was clearly evident that the frightened wild creature was, at that moment in time, the most important thing in the world to her.
Ben was completely and utterly dumbfounded by the change in this woman. He had thought her unfeeling and cold. However, seeing her now, he realized that she might purposefully hold her emotions in check, but she definitely was not unfeeling. The gentleness and kindness etched in her beautiful features astounded him. And again he was overwhelmed by the difference in her.
"Help me, Ben," she said, her voice feather soft so as not to upset the owl.
"What can I do?" He emulated her hushed tone as he crossed the room.
Just then May came into the living room with a linen tea towel.
"Here, Chelsea," May said. "This is the closest I could come to lightweight fabric."
"It's perfect, May," Chelsea said. "Thanks." Then she glanced at Ben. "Take the towel," she told him, "and loosely tie it over his head. Sort of like a hood."
"Over his head?" he asked.
"At least over his eyes," she instructed. "If he can't see, he'll stay calmer. But not too tight. We want him to be able to breathe."
Ben did as he was told, Chelsea quietly talking him through every movement. He marveled at how placid the bird had become when the makeshift hood was covering its head.
"I heard you scream," Ben said.
The sound of her chuckle made his gut tighten with pleasure.
"It was my fault. This little fellow scared me to death when he came down on top of me." She laughed softly again. "I should never have had my head in the hearth when you forced him down."
She held the bird in both hands and softly stroked it with one thumb.
"You're so scared," she crooned to the tiny owl. "It's going to be okay now."
Chelsea looked at Ben. "He's trembling," she said. Her eyes conveyed a tremendous amount of compassion. "Would you take me over to the nature center?"
"Sure."
"I'd go alone, but if I put him in a box I'm afraid he might hurt himself. It would be safer for him if I just held on to him." She rubbed her chin on the owl's soft feathers. "I'd like to have the vet take a look at him. He may have a broken wing, and if he does, I'm not sure how to set it."
"We can go right now," Ben said.
"Chelsea, you did an outstanding job." May's eyes were shining. "You sure did."
"I'm glad you called me," she told his aunt. "Let's go, Ben."
They drove the short distance to the nature center. By now the center was open and Chelsea went inside to hand over the bird to the attendant on duty.
As Ben waited for her to return to the truck, he couldn't help but marvel at what he'd learned about her this morning. As long as he'd known Chelsea, she'd presented a reserved and chilly disposition to the world. And she'd been so consistent in her presentation that everyone believed her act.
But seeing her at May's this morning, actually witnessing the compassion she lavishly bestowed on the tiny, frightened owl, had taught him that his wife's detached demeanor was a façade… a false front that hid the true person inside. His wife clearly had an altruistic nature that she was concealing from him and everyone else around her.
The question that kept popping into his mind was: Why? What had happened to make her want to hide the true Chelsea from the world? Ben couldn't fathom what would compel a person to shut down her emotions, what would push her to stifle what most human beings reveled in. As he sat there with his elbow resting on the steering wheel, his chin tucked into the vee between his thumb and index finger, Ben decided that he was damned determined to find out.
~ ~ ~
Chelsea stood at the counter in Ben's kitchen, layering thin slices of baked ham onto fresh, chewy rye bread. The euphoria of having saved the helpless trapped owl still had her feeling as though she were floating on air. Even Ben's request that they spend the afternoon together sharing a picnic lunch hadn't popped her bubble of happiness, although it should have.
She couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed by Ben. She had expected him to fulfill his end of their deal without all this hoopla about getting to know one another.
That first night, she'd fumed into the wee hours of the morning. How dare he suddenly decide to demand stipulations to a deal that had already been made, she had railed in the silence of her room. But then she'd mulled over his arguments in her head, and she'd been forced to admit that he did have a point.
It really wasn't fair of her to expect him to engage in a most intimate act with her, when she wasn't willing to cooperate. Her face heated at the mere thought.
The idea of being a participant in the act of sex was so alien to her. She'd never in her life imagined herself as part of a man/woman relationship. Why would she, when she knew she wasn't pretty enough, or good enough, or lovable enough to warrant a man's attention? Hadn't she been told again and again and again just how worthless she was? And hadn't she learned that each and every time she had tried to gain the affection of someone important to her, she had been slapped down and trampled on?
For the past few days she'd been worrying about
Ben's insistence that the two of them become acquainted. She didn't want Ben to know her. And she didn't want to know him any more than she did right now. The distance between them, even though they were husband and wife, was safe for her. She was terrified to come any closer.
Ben was a nice person, a wonderful man. But if she opened up her emotions to him, she knew his inevitable negative reaction to what she revealed would hurt her, and she had to protect herself. It was imperative.
But she knew he'd made up his mind not to sleep with her until they had spent time together. So somehow she was going to have to get to know Ben, and at the same time disclose as little about herself as possible. It wasn't that she wanted to deceive him, not at all. The problem was complicated, and she hoped that she could manage to meet Ben's demands without making herself vulnerable to him.
"I found a blanket we can use."
Chelsea turned and saw Ben come into the kitchen.
"I thought we could have our picnic out in the Old Orchard," he said.
She nodded, then turned back to begin wrapping the sandwiches. Ben pulled a basket from the pantry and loaded it with fruit, napkins, a couple cans of soda. When she'd finished with the sandwiches, she tucked them inside with the rest of the food.
The Old Orchard was only a few hundred feet behind Ben's brick house. Here were the last of the original giant apple trees, the thick branches gnarled, the bark rough and dark with age.
"Why do you keep them?" Chelsea asked.
Ben shrugged. "Granddad always said he kept them for sentimental reasons. I guess I feel the same. The dwarf trees are so much easier to prune and harvest, they're more economical. But these old trees remind me of what the orchard was like when I was a kid."
He stopped under one tree and spread out the blanket.
"I used to climb these trees," he told her. "I want these trees to be around so my kids can climb them."
It was as though a jolt of lightning zapped Chelsea and her gaze flew to Ben.
Immediately he looked contrite.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean... I was only…" He sighed. "I wasn't thinking." He shook his head and simply looked away from her.
Soon he turned to face her, his green eyes solemn, and he promised, "I'll try to be more aware of what I'm saying."