His Wife for a While

by Donna Fasano

  He watched her throat muscles work as she swallowed with difficulty. Words rolled and tumbled in his brain, and several phrases assembled themselves. But he couldn't bring himself to speak for fear of upsetting her further. Finally, the thoughts jammed like rusty cogs left too long in the rain.

  "It's not my fault," she continued, "that your feelings for this child have changed."

  Her hand moved to cover her stomach, as if to protect what she saw as her treasure.

  "It's not my fault," she repeated louder. "And our original deal still stands. I became your wife so your land wouldn't be sold. I held up my end of the bargain. Now, it's time for you to uphold yours."

  "But Chelsea…"

  She cut him off with one shaking, upraised hand. "I won't listen to any more. I'm done. I'm leaving. Today. I'm sorry I wasn't able to train a new bookkeeper." Picking up a manila folder from her desk top, she thrust it toward him. "You'll find the names and telephone numbers of the people I've interviewed in here. The application of the woman I thought would be best suited for the job is on top."

  "Wait…"

  "No, Ben," she said. "No."

  She rounded the desk, her glare a shocking medley of distrust, outrage and betrayal.

  Her pointed finger almost poked his chest as she stated, "Don't look for me. I mean it. I won't let you take my baby, Ben."

  The last words she'd uttered paralyzed him. Vaguely, he heard the door slam shut as her declaration rang in his ears.

  I won't let you take my baby.

  I won't let you take my baby.

  "What did you do?" May's shrill voice cut through his thoughts as she burst into the office. "What did you say to that child?"

  He was helpless to respond.

  "What did you say to Chelsea?" May's firm tone demanded an answer. "That poor girl ran out of this building sobbing like there was no tomorrow." She plunked a fist on her wide hip. "I want to know what you did."

  When he finally found his voice, it sounded as empty and brittle as his heart felt. "It backfired, May." He handed her the documents, desperate for someone to validate his good intentions. "I had Chelsea's name put on the deed to the orchard. I wanted to show her how I felt."

  "Well…" May frowned as she looked over the paperwork. "Opening the door to everything you own and inviting her to come in certainly should have showed her your feelings, all right." Her gaze narrowed on him and her voice lowered a notch as she asked, "How did you manage to mess things up?"

  "I didn't do anything." The words burst from him. "Somehow she got the crazy notion that I want to take her baby away from her."

  May looked a little stunned. Well, that was good. At least he wasn't the only one feeling shell-shocked by Chelsea's behavior.

  His aunt looked from him to the deed to the empty doorway, then her gaze whipped back to Ben.

  "Well, go after her, you idiot! I told you to come right out and tell her how you feel." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "But do you ever listen to me? No. I told you…"

  May continued to lecture, but Ben ran out the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chelsea stopped in the middle of the grove of apple trees to catch her breath. Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her soft cotton T-shirt, she knew she had to calm down and think.

  She'd given a little thought about places she might want to relocate. She could go anywhere, a big city, another small town. The internet had proved a fruitful recourse for employment possibilities, and it seemed a good bookkeeper was a commodity. But she'd made no hard and fast plans. That in itself spoke volumes about her desire to actually follow through on moving from Kemblesville, but dwelling on that right now would be useless. Ben had shoved her off the proverbial cliff, and if she didn't want to experience a complete crash landing, she had better come up with a course of action and she'd better do it quick.

  "He wants my baby." She groaned the words aloud and heard their baleful echo whisper through the leafy branches overhead.

  She felt alone. It was a feeling that was as familiar as shrugging into an old coat, but not nearly as comfortable; a feeling she had lived with for more years than she could count. Living with Ben, sharing meals with him, spending part of each night in his passionate embrace had dissolved the loneliness, and for those few, short weeks, she'd spent most of her time filled with a light weightlessness. Perhaps the absence of her past had added to the lovely buoyancy. The dreary memories of her childhood and adolescence hadn't been the sole focus of her thoughts while she'd been living with Ben.

  But all that was over now. The temporary arrangement had ended. The reality that this moment would come had never been hidden or obscured.

  It was time to go.

  The dark and wretched isolation hovered at the edge of her consciousness, and that's when she realized she really wasn't alone. She laced her fingers over her tummy and cradled her unborn child.

  "I'll get us away from here," she promised. "I'll make this right for us."

  "Chelsea!"

  Ben's voice was like an unexpected trumpet blast that shattered the stillness of the orchard. The breeze grew chilled, but then she realized it was panic that crawled across her skin. Her gaze flew to the path behind her and she saw him racing along the wide path that was flanked by fruit trees.

  "Oh, God, please help me." She whispered the tiny prayer and turned to run.

  But he easily caught up to her and stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  "I don't want to talk to you, Ben." She shouted the words at him, struggling to release herself from his grasp.

  Tension was evident in every muscle of his body; from the taut lines around his mouth and eyes, to the set of his shoulders. He let go of her, but his clenched fists defined the sinewy muscles of his forearms. A muscle ticked just below the outer corner of his eye and she could see his jaw grind.

  "We have to talk." Although his words were quiet, they conveyed ominous emotion.

  Swiping her fingers over her cheek, she was surprised when they came away wet with tears. "I told you…"

  "Please, Chels, calm down," Ben said.

  "I'm perfectly calm." Of course, it was a lie. The anxiety in her stomach was enough to make her dizzy with nausea, but she refused to let him see that.

  He reached out to her and she jerked back. He lowered his hand to his side.

  "You will listen to what I have to say."

  "I will not," she shouted.

  "I love you, Chelsea."

  Stunned into silence, her brow furrowed with confusion. It's a lie, her conscience automatically told her. A lie!

  "It's true," he said as if in answer to the silent chant. "I do love you."

  When she finally found her tongue, she snapped, "You really don't expect me to believe that."

  The defeated expression that crossed his face stunned her.

  "I can't make you believe me," he said. "All I can do is tell you what's in my heart."

  She shook her head. "You're doing this because of the baby. You've changed your mind. You said it yourself. You want the baby to know you. You want…"

  Every you came out sounding vicious, and every accusation made her all the more angry, all the hurt, all the more betrayed. She started to turn away, but it only took the barest touch of his fingertips on her forearm to stop her. She lifted her gaze to his.

  "Chels, I understand that you feel you can't give your trust."

  His tone was as soft as an apple-blossom petal.

  "I can even understand why. Knowing what you went through as a child, what you endured growing up, it's only natural for you to turn inward. To guard your heart. To avoid relationships. Of any kind. I get it. I really do."

  He searched her gaze before continuing, "But I have to tell you... cutting yourself off from everyone around you isn't really living. It's simply existing."

  She tried to dip her head, to break the connection with those intense eyes, but he caught her chin between his gentle fingers and forced her to continue looking at him.

>   "Is that what you really want out of life?"

  Chelsea was unable to answer his question; she was unable to speak at all.

  "You do care about me," he said. "I know that much. You've tried to hide it, but the truth was clear to me when you offered to give me your money." He grimaced. "I may be way off base, but I think you really did it because you care about me and Aunt May, and all the people who work here. We're a family. We're your family. You might not want to acknowledge it, but I'm not going to let you deny the truth. We matter to you." He paused, and then he quietly stressed, "I matter."

  Sunlight filtered through the tree branches, warming her shoulders. Everything he said was true.

  He took a deep breath. "And if you at least care about me, even just a little bit, then that could be a terrific start for us. A foundation we could build on. I mean... if you were to stay here... we could try to make this marriage work. I know you're looking for the promise that you'll never be hurt." He shook his head dolefully. "I can't give you that. I love you, but I'm certain that if we are to spend our lives together, there will surely be arguments, there will surely be bad times, pain and sorrow. It's all a part of life. All I can tell you is that I hope the good times outweigh the bad. All I can promise is that I'll try my best to make you as happy as I possibly can. I'll love you with all my heart, Chelsea."

  "Stop it, Ben!" She spun around, turning her back on him. Curling her fingers into a fist, she pressed it tight against her trembling lips. Couldn't he see how he was torturing her? Why was he doing this?

  Yet, everything he'd said was true. Living without close emotional bonds was an empty shell of an existence; it was like living in the dank, dark basement and being unable to find the stairway that led to the rest of the glorious mansion.

  She did care about him, and May, and the people here she'd worked with; she'd offered Ben all that she had because she had come to care so much.

  Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She didn't just care about Ben. She loved him.

  But could she trust him with her heart?

  He grasped her shoulders and she let him pull her to him. He pressed the length of his body against hers and his voice was thick with emotion as he whispered close to her ear, "With God as my witness, I do love you. I know you believe I'm only saying this because of the baby." He hesitated. "I do love the baby, Chels. I do. I want to be his father. I want to watch him grow up. I want to wipe his runny nose and kiss his bruised knees. I want to teach him how to drive a tractor. Plant a tree. Press the cider. I want it all."

  His words became shaky. "I have to be honest with you and tell you that I do love our baby. But…"

  He turned her around to face him and cradled her cheeks between his hands.

  "I need you to understand that I loved you first."

  Tears welled and splintered her vision into glittering shards. Those were the words she'd longed to hear all her life. Could she believe he meant what he said?

  "When I put your name on that deed, it was because I wanted to show you… in the most fundamental way… that I love you. I want to take care of you. I want to be with you. Forever."

  Looking into his candid green eyes, she realized that Ben had just offered her what she had refused all along to give to him. He had trusted her enough to reveal what was in his heart. Without knowing what she would say or how she would react, Ben had exposed his most tender emotions to her. He'd made himself vulnerable.

  She knew then that the words he'd spoken were honest and true and rich with meaning. She knew that it had been his feelings for her… not their baby… that had made him say them. She had so much she wanted to tell him, so many thoughts and emotions she wanted to express, she only hoped she was able to speak around the huge lump that had formed in her throat.

  "Oh, Ben," she was finally able to say, "I don't know that I can even find a way to express how much I love you."

  The genuine relief that melted his gaze lifted the weight of every nuance of negativity and fear from her. She felt carefree as joy filled her to the brim.

  Ben loved her.

  Ben loved her!

  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply, thoroughly. And when he ended his kiss, his hand moved to the intimate spot on her lower belly where their child was nestled, safe and secure.

  "We'll be a real family now," he marveled.

  Chelsea smiled broadly, her happiness overflowing in the single tear that slid down her cheek.

  "Let's go tell Aunt May," he suggested.

  She nodded and felt as if she were floating through the grove of apple trees and into the country store, Ben's hand clasping hers in a manner that told her he never intended to let her go.

  The store was empty, but the two of them heard the loud, labored tap, tap, tap, as someone used the old hunt-and-peck method on the keys of the ancient manual typewriter in what used to be John Reed's office.

  "Do you think that's May?" Bewilderment softened Ben's question. "What could she be doing?"

  "I have no idea." Chelsea lifted a shoulder.

  They entered the office just in time to see May zip the paper from the old typewriter's roller with one smooth pull. When she turned and saw the two of them in the doorway, she breezily remarked, "Well, I see you've finally got yourselves all straightened out."

  Chelsea grinned, realizing that the euphoric expressions on their faces told May all she needed to know.

  "It's dusty in here," Ben told his aunt. "We're going to have to clean this place out. What are you up to?"

  "See for yourself." She proudly handed the neatly typed paper to Ben. "Took me three tries, but I finally got it worked up, good and proper. Not a single misspelled word in this one."

  "Elvis Alive and Well in Acapulco," Ben read the title aloud. His mouth split into a grin as he immediately understood. "It's an article. For the tabloid. Are you going to submit it?"

  May nodded proudly, her face beaming.

  Chelsea frowned, and then she chuckled. "Elvis? Acapulco? I didn't know you'd been to Mexico, May."

  "She hasn't," Ben commented wryly.

  May cocked an eyebrow and haughtily snatched the article from her grandnephew. "Everyone's always tellin' me that you shouldn't believe everything you read." She sauntered from the office as though she'd just put both of them in their place.

  When Chelsea and Ben's laughter subsided, Ben wrapped her in his strong, protective arms. A fuzzy warmth curled inside her and she marveled at how their baby was snuggled between them.

  This baby had been her dream. The one thing she'd thought would fulfill all her hopes of a happy future. But now, gazing into the eyes of the man who loved her, she understood just how happy and contented her future would be. With Ben by her side, she knew she could face the memories of yesterday and the unknown of tomorrow.

  Slipping her finger through Ben's hair, she pulled him closer. She placed her lips on his in a long, lingering kiss and knew for certain that all her dreams were coming true.

  Epilogue

  The sun shined brightly as Chelsea pushed the big-wheeled carriage, rolling and bumping over the uneven ground of the orchard. The warmth and freshness of spring was in the air and she couldn't help but smile as she inhaled the delicate fragrance of the blossoming apple trees that surrounded her and her beautiful baby girl. Bees buzzed the age-old tune of nature as they flitted from bloom to bloom.

  The crew of working men came into view, and Chelsea sought and found the broad shoulders belonging to her husband. Ben's sinewy back muscles bunched, relaxed, then bunched again under the thin fabric of his cotton work shirt, and a flame of desire flared in the pit of her belly. She was amazed how, even after nearly a year of marriage, fiery passion still blazed white-hot at the mere sight of him.

  One of the employees must have alerted Ben to her arrival, for he turned toward her, his handsome face conveying his pleasant surprise when his gaze locked on her. He hurried toward her, tugging off his work gloves and stuffing them into his back pocket.<
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  "Hi," he said, then tipped up her chin with his fingers and kissed her full on the mouth.

  The feel of his warm, firm lips on her own made her heart lurch with overwhelming love. He pulled back and smiled. One of the men whistled and several others let out soft cheers of appreciation at Ben's show of affection.

  "Hi, yourself," she whispered. "Kelly and I thought we'd come and visit Daddy."

  Ben leaned over the carriage. "So, my ladies came to see me." He reached in and gingerly scooped up the precious bundle.

  Chelsea watched him cradle their baby in the crook of his arm and run a gentle finger over the velvety softness of Kelly's cheek. Seeing father and daughter together brought blissful contentment.

  The baby cooed and Ben's fascinated gaze never left Kelly's face as he remarked, "Look. Look. She's smiling at me."

  "I know," Chelsea said. Then she wryly added, "Although Aunt May keeps insisting it's only gas."

  "May's become extremely opinionated these days." Ben's mouth twisted with humorous.

  Chelsea had to chuckle. "You do have to admit, her advice column in The Whig is a huge success."

  Back in the fall, May had been approached by a friend who had told her she believed her husband was cheating. The woman gathered irrefutable evidence and confronted her husband. Later that same day, May's friend showed up at the store and said, "He denied everything. And he said it would never happen again. Should I believe him?"

  That's when May decided an advice column was her calling and she'd approached the editor of the local newspaper. No question was too outrageous, none too intimate. Young and old, rich and poor, moral and not, people wrote letters to Ask Aunt May. The responses May printed were filled with practical advice, but the fact that they were funny, witty and wise, not to mention highly entertaining, kept readers hankering for more.