by Donna Fasano
"I must have become awfully loud. The lady in the apartment next to us called the police. They came to the door." Her eyes grew large. "I was scared to death. I didn't dare get out of bed to answer the bell. The manager of the building unlocked the door to our apartment. Men came bursting in. I started screaming, trying to warn them about the snakes, but they wouldn't listen."
As he watched the tears well and spill over onto his wife's cheeks, Ben tried to imagine the terror she must have felt at that moment. He became overwhelmed with tender emotion for the terrified little girl Chelsea described.
"My mother was so angry with me because she had to come and pick me up at some big brick building in Center City," she said. "I guess it was some kind of children's shelter. After that, she took me with her at night. But I was just as scared. I'd sit in the back seat of the car with all the doors locked. I'd cover my head with my blanket. I was so afraid someone would notice me. Try to break in and get me."
Ben could only shake his head in utter disbelief that a woman could treat her child so callously.
"I remember the last time she took me out in the car. I woke up and it was just getting light outside. I was hungry and thirsty. I had to go to the bathroom so badly... but I waited for my mother."
He saw her throat move in a difficult swallow.
"But she never came. A man tapped on the window and tried to get in, but I wouldn't unlock the door. A lady from the police station came."
A whispery smile chased across Chelsea's lips, but there was no hint of humor in her tone.
"But I still wouldn't let them in. They ended up using some kind of tool to unlock the car. I was crying, wailing for my mother. But she never heard me... she never came."
Another tear slipped down her cheek.
"I don't remember much after that. I do know that I only saw my mother one last time."
She sniffed and Ben reached over, pulled a tissue from the box and tucked it into her still fingers. She made no move to dry her eyes.
"I remember sitting at this long table. There were lots of people there. Men in suits. Big briefcases. And a pretty lady in a flowered dress who kept smiling at me.
Ben wanted to take Chelsea's hand, but didn't know if he should.
"My mother came into the room. She got very loud. Yelling and angry. Her face was all... red and ugly. Her eyes bulging and..."
Her voice went limp and then she seemed to let go of that particular memory.
"They finally took her out. Two policemen helped her out the door. Then all the people at the table talked." Her head tilted to one side. "Their voices were low, and they seemed very serious. Not angry, but very… intense. I couldn't make out what they were saying. But every once in a while the pretty lady would look over and smile at me."
His gut tightened as he listened to Chelsea describe what had obviously been a formal hearing of a child protection agency.
"I went to live with other children who had been taken from their homes."
Ben was helpless against his grunt of approval. "Sounds like that's the best thing that could have happened," he murmured.
"But, Ben," she said, "it killed me to go there. I loved my mother. I missed her. I cried for her every day. It felt like my heart had been ripped right out of my chest."
A lump rose in Ben's throat, and he didn't trust himself to respond. The child Chelsea had been couldn't have realized that she was being neglected, couldn't have known that the "men in suits" were only trying to protect her best interests.
"The people there… I called them nurses because they wore white uniforms… they were nice. For the most part."
She absently reached up, and in what looked like an almost childish gesture, she began twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger.
"There was this one lady, though. She didn't like the kids much. I heard her talking about me. 'That Chelsea Carson, now there's a child only a mother could love, and hers doesn't,' is what she said. Those words were seared into my brain." Chelsea's voice became thoughtful as she said, "It took me a long time to figure out what she meant."
Tucking the strand of hair behind her ear, she shook her head, almost as though she was physically putting the thought behind her.
"I went to live with a foster family after that." Her mouth pulled back into a sad, little smile and she whispered, "I went to live with Mama Higgins."
Chelsea went silent for a long while and Ben didn't push. He was willing to give her all the time she needed.
Finally, she licked at her lips and continued. "I stayed with Mama Higgins… she asked me if I minded calling her that… for, oh, about a year, I guess."
She placed her fingers over her broadening smile. "I was very happy there," she said, lowering her hand. "I had new clothes, and I was never hungry. Mama Higgins let me help her cook dinner. We chopped vegetables. And I set the table." Her eyes twinkled in the dim light of the patio. "Christmas was wonderful that year. Santa actually brought me presents. I remember unwrapping this beautiful, curly-haired doll." She closed her eyes and nodded. "I was happy with Mama Higgins."
Then the fleeting joy that had brightened her features was suddenly gone and she sighed. "Then one day this social worker came. The lady told me that Mama Higgins wanted to adopt me. I didn't know exactly what that meant, I only knew it made me very happy. But the lady said that my mother wouldn't let that happen. I figured out years later that my mother refused to sign away her parental rights, but back then all it meant to me was that I couldn't live with Mama Higgins any more."
"But, why?" Ben's zealous tone surprised him, and he calmed down before he said, "The woman obviously wanted you. Why wouldn't the state let you stay where you were happy?"
Chelsea shrugged. "I don't know. Some state restriction. Some law maybe? Maybe the foster system was doing the right thing. Mama Higgins had begun to look at me like a daughter, but I couldn't be her daughter. Maybe they were…" The thought faded on a sigh. "I don't know. Who can say?"
Ben couldn't believe the anger rattling inside him. It was frustrating as hell, because he wanted to yell at someone, take up for the helpless little girl who couldn't look out for herself. He wanted to make things right, but all this had happened so long ago and the time to take action had long passed.
"I was so young," Chelsea said. "But I knew that I never wanted to love anyone ever again. I learned that loving meant hurting. And I didn't want to hurt anymore."
She grew quiet. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the terrible circumstances his wife had lived through had caused her heart to freeze. Ben resisted the urge to reach out and caress her cheek. He felt she might not appreciate the gesture, or worse, she just might resent it.
He was filled with so many emotions he had a hard time sorting through them all. Two things kept coming to the forefront of his mind. One was a fact: Chelsea's heart and soul were locked up tight. The other was a question: What could he do to release her so that she could understand that joy was as much a part of life as the pain she had already experienced?
Chelsea felt drained. She harbored a deep sense of shame because of her childhood. If she wanted to be totally honest with Ben, she'd have to admit to him there was something wrong with her. She'd figured that out a very long time ago. Otherwise, why hadn't her mother loved her? Why had her mother given her away... like she had been some worn, out-of-fashion coat?
Yes, Chelsea knew she was very definitely flawed. Her mother hadn't loved her, and Mama Higgins hadn't been allowed to. But then, Ben already knew she was imperfect. How could he not? Saying the words aloud would only embarrass them both.
What she needed to do was finish her story and get this painful but necessary exposure out of the way.
"As soon as I was old enough," she said, her voice stronger now, "I left Philadelphia. I traveled around a bit. Worked odd jobs. And then one day I found myself in Kemblesville, right in the middle of Reed's Orchard." She laughed softly. "John Reed was a crotchety old guy."
"That's true enough," Ben agreed.
"It was late fall and I was picking apples." Chelsea snorted, and then admitted, "Stealing them, actually. I had filled my backpack to overflowing. He caught me red-handed. I thought he'd chase me off, or call the police and have me arrested. He had every right to, that's for sure. But he didn't. He offered me dinner instead." She shook her head. "I was too surprised to turn him down."
Her mouth pulled into a wry grin. "He made me take a bath before he'd let me sit at his table. And then he told me I'd be doing some chores around the place to pay him back for his fruit."
"Ha!" Ben laughed. "That's my grandfather all right. Always telling other people what they'll be doing."
"I was belligerent toward him," she said, regretfully. "I was certain he'd turn his back on me sooner or later. But I've been here ever since."
She gazed at Ben. "So when you said I must have talked a good story to get the job, you were wrong. John Reed gave me this job because he knew I needed it. He knew without my telling him." Sudden moisture blurred her vision, and in a far-off voice she added, "I hadn't realized that until just this moment."
"Chels, there's something I need to say." Ben cleared his throat before continuing. This was something he'd wanted to explain for a long time, but he never could figure out how to bring it up. "The winter I came home from college and you were working here... I just want to let you know how sorry I am about... what happened between us."
She went utterly still, and Ben hurried on with his own confession. "What I mean to say is... I never knew about all the things that you'd gone through. If I had, I never would have tormented you the way I did." He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "Hell, I should admit it… I was just plain stupid. Immature. Cocky." His lips twisted. "Like I said, stupid. Whether I knew about your past or not has nothing to do with it."
The intensity was evident in her big, dark eyes, despite the shadows cast by the night across the patio. Ben could only hope that she'd accept his apology.
"It's okay, Ben," she said.
"It isn't okay! It wasn't then and it isn't now. No one deserves to be treated the way I treated you." Or the way others have treated you, Ben thought.
"I shouldn't have let my friends rib me into coming on to you. Peer pressure is an awful thing." He made a disgusted sound. "Who am I kidding? It was my fault. I have to take responsibility for my own actions. I do want you to know that I would have taken you out on a date… if you had taken me up on my offer."
Chelsea only looked at him. Sure you would have, she thought. And I'm the queen of England, too.
"I shouldn't have kept on and on about it," he said. "After you turned me down once, I should have left you alone. But I'd been drinking, and my friends were razzing me. I just didn't... I didn't..."
The deep regret expressed in his eyes touched her.
The air had been crisp and cold the night she had come upon him and his friends drinking. She'd gone out for a moonlit walk, the thin layer of snow crunching under her feet. One of the young men had howled like a wolf as she'd passed. Ben had broken away from his buddies and started following her. At first, he'd said nothing. He'd just whistled a merry tune. Then he'd said her name. He'd sung it, really. Uncomfortable with the game he was playing, she'd stopped dead and turned to face him. He'd tried to be smooth when he'd asked her to go out with him, and when she'd rebuffed him, he'd blinked in surprise. The cold temperature wasn't enough to staunch the yeasty scent of beer wafting around him. He became belligerent. Called her Chilly Chelsea. Told her she'd never find a boyfriend when she was so timid, that what she needed was a long, hot kiss to melt her icy heart.
And then he'd made the mistake of putting his hand on her arm.
"If it's any consolation to you," he said in a humble tone, "my cheek smarted for three days."
Chelsea had to chuckle. "I am sorry I slapped you. I'm not normally a violent person, but I was a little scared. And angry."
"I don't want you to apologize. I deserved it. I need for you to accept my apology."
"Look, it meant nothing. Okay?"
Ben watched her turn away from him and glance out into the darkness. She was probably right. It had meant nothing to her. Chelsea had, in all likelihood, pushed the memory of what he'd done to her right out of her head. She'd filed it in her mind with all those other awful memories that needed forgetting. What an ass he'd been. Knowing that he had added to her pain wrenched his gut.
"The reason we came out here," she said, intent on getting back to their original topic, "was so that I could try to make you understand why... why having a baby is so important to me. We've somehow wandered off track."
"That was my fault."
"Anyway..." Chelsea tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and wondered how she could make him understand her heart's desire. She couldn't possibly tell him it was because a baby would love her when no one else did. No, it would be much better if she explained her need to give.
"I want a baby," she began, "because I want to provide my child a happy, carefree upbringing." That was certainly true enough. "I've always felt that some part of me was missing. I want to give my child... love." Those things, too, were true. But they sounded so pitiful to her ears. Did Ben think so too? she wondered.
Ben's heart ached for Chelsea. He could understand her desire to give a child all the things that she hadn't received. She had years and years worth of love to give… love that she'd pent up inside her… love she'd refused to let escape. If she were to have a child, she would finally be whole. The realization caused a wide-eyed blink. The thought of helping her to become complete filled him with sudden euphoria.
"Ben, I…"
"Chels." He cut her off as gently as he possibly could. "I understand why you want a baby. I'd have to be a fool not to."
She looked at him and gave him a smile… the first one she'd offered that she didn't have to work at.
"You don't have to explain any more," he said.
The empathy in his eyes took her breath away. He understands. He really understands. She could see it on his face. Chelsea reached over and took his hand. And the ice that had encased her heart for so long began to chip away.
When he pulled her close, she didn't stiffen, she didn't feel impelled to resist. His arms were strong and his embrace was warm and secure. Chelsea relaxed into it, and for the first time since speaking her marriage vows, she thought that maybe everything was going to be okay.
Ben leaned close and she could feel his breath graze her ear. Ever so softly, he whispered, "Let's go make a baby."
Chelsea tingled all over and felt her heart turn a flip in her chest. "You mean it?" she asked. "Right now? Tonight?"
His glittering eyes reflected the excitement and anticipation she knew radiated from her.
He nodded. "Right now. Tonight."
"Oh, Ben," she said, feeling close to tears. "Thank you so…"
Placing two fingers against her lips, he shook his head. "Don't," he told her. "That's not necessary."
His gentle timbre and the promise of unselfish giving that lit his emerald gaze melted the last remnants of frost that encrusted her heart. She felt emotionally naked, totally exposed to Ben. And although the feeling was mysterious and new to her, she marveled at the fact that she hadn't the least bit of fear. It warmed her heart to know that he was doing everything he could to make her feel safe, and she appreciated that.
He traced the line of her jaw, the pads of his fingers sliding along ever so slowly along her skin. When her chin was tucked into the vee of his hand between his index finger and thumb, he lifted her jaw a fraction and forced her eyes to meet his.
With gazes locked, they communicated in silence. Tension built around them until it was nearly a tangible thing.
Slowly, the look in his eyes changed. The altruism dimmed and a flicker of heated passion took its place. The spark caught, and held, and grew. And it spread over his features until the desire he felt was etched in every plane and angle
of his face.
A shiver skittered up Chelsea's spine and she pressed her palm flat against her stomach when an unidentified yet undeniable warmth began to curl there. Before she could wonder what was happening to her, Ben lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
His kiss was like nothing she'd ever felt before. His lips, hot and moist against hers, performed a tender exploration. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the intriguing sensations that bombarded her senses.
He opened his mouth and timidly ran the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip. She instinctively knew he was questioning her. How far did she want him to go?
She desperately wanted him to know that she understood his need to trust. That she intended to meet his need by giving herself as completely and totally as she was able.
Parting her lips, she welcomed his tongue with her own. She kissed him deeply, thoroughly, and hoped he would recognize this intimate, unspoken expression for what it was.
He did. And she knew it because his lips became bolder, more ardent in their pursuit. His tongue delved into her mouth, playing erotic games with hers that heated the curls of emotion in her stomach until they burned white-hot.
Finally, he pulled back a hair's breadth, kissing her mouth lightly, once, twice, three times.
She didn't move, or rather, was unable to. It seemed as though the oxygen in the air was thin and inadequate. Evidently, Ben felt the same way, because he filled his lungs deeply. As he exhaled, he gave her a broad smile.
"Let's go back to the bedroom," he suggested.
She could only nod.
Ben stood and pulled her to her feet. Entwining his fingers with hers, he led the way through the kitchen, down the hall and into his room.
The giddy excitement that jumped inside Chelsea had her shaking uncontrollably.
Ben stopped beside the bed, and obviously mistaking her trembling as fear, he said, "There's no reason to be afraid."
"Oh, I'm not afraid," she assured him.