Made For Each Other

by Parris Afton Bonds

  The memory of him dancing with Sheila came back to Julie, her vision of how perfect they had looked together, and she said abruptly, “Never!”

  “And your marriage? At some point—if you don’t intend to return to Nicholas—you’ve got to communicate to him your intentions of ending it.”

  “I know.” She rose from her chair and began pacing her bedroom. “I know I’ve got to do it, and I don’t know why I’m waiting. I ought to get it over with . . . but I can’t, not right now. It’s too soon. Perhaps within another month I’ll have the courage, Mom.”

  Her mother stood up and went to the door. “I think you ought to listen to your heart. It may be warning you that this marriage shouldn’t be ended at all.”

  “This marriage should never have taken place to begin with,” she said listlessly as she stood at the window looking out on the winter wasteland. Was the high desert in New Mexico covered with snow at that moment?

  Her grandmother was more voluble than Mrs. Dever on the subject of Julie’s shattered marriage. “Poppycock! What a lot of rot, as I’ve heard you young’ns say often enough!” The old woman never missed a stitch on the sweater she was knitting as she rocked before the roaring fire in the living room’s hearth. “I gave you more credit, child, than being one of those pups that tuck their tails and run. You gonna let that hussy have your husband without a fight?”

  At times Julie was fighting mad. She told herself she was a fool to have given up Nick without a fight. Even if she could never make him love her, she would have had what most women dream of—a handsome, successful, and famous husband. What difference if he did not love her? She could console herself with her husband’s substantial checking account.

  But she knew she was a fool. She wanted Nick’s love, not his money. And though she might have fought for that love, she could not bring herself to stand in the way of his becoming governor. She loved him too much to hold him back.

  She worked the rest of that month and on through March on her novel. She told herself that she was happy, that she was doing some-thing she had always wanted to do, write a book. But she was not happy, and she felt sick all the time.

  Her mother tried to get her to go out with old friends, and her father tried to persuade her to go fishing with him. “The bass are really biting good right now,” he coaxed her. But she preferred to remain alone.

  “You have to get out of the house, Julie!” her mother told her one afternoon when the northwesterly winter winds had let up and the sun peeked through the gray clouds.

  For once she agreed with her mother. Surprised at Julie’s capitulation, her mother said, “Wonderful! Perhaps you’d like to do some shopping. We could drive in to Dallas, have lunch in the Zodiac Room at Neiman’s, then spend the afternoon—”

  “Mom,” she said, not knowing exactly how to begin, “I’d like to go into town by myself.”

  Her mother cast her a quizzical look but did not appear to be hurt by Julie’s rejection of her suggestion. “All right, darling. I’m just relieved you’re getting out. Try to forget about everything for a while and have a good time.”

  Having a good time was not on her mind as she made the hour-long trip into Dallas. Only one thing occupied her mind that day, and the doctor confirmed her suspicion after she had waited another hour to get in to see him.

  “I’d say around the middle of September, Mrs. Raffer,” he told her as he polished his thick glasses. “As narrow as you are through the pelvis, we’ll want to keep a close check on your pregnancy during the last few weeks. But I don’t really anticipate any problem, since you’re in excellent health.”

  “I see,” she said tonelessly. But she really did not see. She really could not understand how it could have happened to her. She could count the number of times Nick had made love to her on one hand . . . and she had had to conceive!

  She did not remember the drive back to Little Elm that afternoon. She did not recall how she got there, but for almost an hour she sat out in front of Hickory Creek at her father’s favorite fishing spot. Great willow and hickory trees arched over the creek, which was high with the melting of the snow. A squirrel, returning from some winter foray, scurried up a live oak denuded of leaves, and a cottontail bounded into the underbrush that edged the creek.

  But she noticed none of this. She felt as if she were caught up in one of Texas’s terrible tornadoes, whirled in the vortex until she was dizzy with the strain of her dilemma.

  She could not continue to live off her parents. She was a grown woman . . . more than that, she was a mother-to-be. She had the baby to think about now.

  She would have to get a job. Secretarial positions paid relatively good salaries in Dallas. And she needed to find an apartment. She thought of her novel and knew it would have to wait. She had responsibilities now.

  The chill that was creeping into the car reminded her that the afternoon was getting later and she should be returning to her parents’ home. She would have to tell them they would soon be grandparents—and Granny would be a great-grandmother. What would the irascible old woman have to say about that? she wondered.

  The old woman laid her napkin beside her dinner plate and chuckled. “That Nicholas Raffer didn’t waste any time, did he!”

  Her mother rolled her eyes at the old woman’s candor but had to laugh. “That’s wonderful, Julie!” she said when she had regained her breath. Now her eyes watched Julie carefully, trying to gauge her daughter’s reaction to the news.

  Her father set down his glass of tea. “It’ll take some time getting used to the idea,” he said slowly. “It seems like only yesterday you were tagging after me on the river bank.” He smiled tenderly at her. “How about making it another girl just like you?”

  She had to laugh. “I’m afraid I have nothing to do with that, Dad. The father determines . . .” She broke off, unable to finish.

  “Julie,” her mother said, “we love you and want only your happiness. But don’t you think Nicholas has a right to know about the child—after all, he’s just as much the parent of the baby as you are. You’re being unfair to him.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she whispered. “I seem to be so weepy all the time now.”

  “I know what’s wrong with you,” her mother said gently. “You’re pregnant. Julie, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. But this is a special time you should be sharing with the baby’s father. Put aside your pride and go back to him.”

  She wadded up her napkin. “Mom, I can’t! Now more than ever. I wouldn’t want him to take me back just because I’m carrying his child!”

  “It’s all right, Julie,” her father said, seeing that the mere talk of Nick upset his daughter. “We won’t interfere, I promise. We’ll abide by whatever decision you choose to make.”

  She put off apartment hunting until she had found a job and received her first paycheck. Realizing that most employers would not want to hire a woman who would soon be taking off to have a baby, she decided to take a job with one of the temporary employment agencies until after the baby was old enough for her to go back to work full time.

  Sometimes she would look in the mirror at her concave stomach, and it was difficult for her to believe she actually carried a child inside her . . . if it were not for the persistent nausea and the memory of the nights of love that she had spent in Nick’s arms.

  She tried not to let herself wonder what woman was in his arms now, but she kept seeing Sheila Morrison’s haughty face looking seductively into Nick’s blazing blue eyes.

  That first week that she worked seemed like the worst in her life—with the exception of the week she had left Nick. The first three days she worked for a small insurance company whose secretary was on vacation. And the last two days she replaced an oil firm’s secretary who had eloped and not returned to work.

  She did not know which was worse— repulsing the passes made by her boss, who had no idea he was flirting with a mother-to- be, or ch
oking back the nausea that threatened to rise in her throat throughout the day.

  The pills the doctor had given her did not seem to be helping to relieve the nausea very much, and every day she wondered if she would have enough energy to fight the heavy Dallas traffic and make the long drive back to Little Elm.

  It was during one of those long drives back that she castigated herself. She had to be the world’s biggest fool. To be married to a senator and carrying his child . . . she could have anything she wanted. If not from him, then from the law courts. No more drudgery in Cement City, and she thought of the beautiful, cozy home out on the high scenic desert of New Mexico.

  And she thought of Nick—the man, not the senator—and her pulses began to race with the old desire that her love for him inflamed in her heart. She was a fool seven times over—and she would probably be a fool the rest of her life, but she would not force herself on a man who did not love her.

  At least spring would soon arrive, she thought as her gaze noted the hint of green creeping into the brown yards that bordered the street where her parents lived. Surely her spirits would liven up with the arrival of beautiful weather.

  As she approached her parents’ home, she slowed her car, noting the strange auto¬mobile parked at the curb. Then her heart lurched with the realization the car was Nick’s Blazer!

  She turned into the driveway and switched off her car’s ignition. She sat behind the steering wheel, shaking. Had Nick tracked her down because she had brought disgrace on his head when she deserted him ... or, worse, had he come because her parents had summoned him?

  She laid her forehead against the steering wheel, wishing with all her soul that she did not have to go inside and face Nick Raffer. What a formidable opponent! But she knew that sooner or later the matter of their divorce would have to be settled, and at least now it would be done on her home ground.

  She looked in the rearview mirror. Her green eyes sparkled with the challenge. In fact, her whole body positively radiated. Her mother had told her that the special beauty came with the bloom of pregnancy. She ran her fingers through her luxuriant dark hair, which seemed to be silkier and thicker, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of the rust-colored linen sheath dress she wore so that the cleavage of her breasts, ripening with pregnancy, was visible. She wondered why she was going to all this trouble, but told herself she would feel better prepared to battle the more confidence she had in herself.

  As she walked up the sidewalk to the veranda, her knees were trembling so badly she thought she was going to either have to remove the high heels she wore or fall flat on her face. To make matters worse, the doorknob would not even turn, so slippery was her hand with nervous perspiration.

  The door gave and Nick stood there—his dark face just as self-contained as ever, so that she could not tell what kind of furious thoughts might be running through his mind. She looked past him, but the living room was vacant, denying her the support of her parents or grandmother. From the kitchen came the sounds of her mother preparing dinner.

  Julie’s gaze came back to Nick’s penetrating blue eyes. She wanted to make her feet move, but they would not, and she had to clutch the door to steady herself. “Nick,” she breathed. “It’s nice to see you.” Where had all the air gone? Was that why her voice sounded so strange to her ears?

  “Is it?” Nick asked, and she knew that if she had the strength she would have turned and run from those mocking eyes. But Nick did not even give her the chance. He took her elbow. “Please come in—it is your house . . . or your parents’,” he said pointedly.

  His touch weakened her even further, and she withdrew her elbow as soon as it was politely possible and crossed to the rocking chair. “Please sit down,” she said, trying to muster a calmness she did not feel.

  Nick did not take a seat in the easy chair she had indicated but remained standing, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. Except for the smoothly shaven jaw he looked much the same as the first time they had met.

  “I suppose you’re here to discuss our divorce,” she said and rushed on. “I had planned to see a lawyer as soon as I received my first pay—”

  Nick’s hand caught her arms and jerked her to her feet. “Hell, no, I’m not here to discuss our divorce! I’d like to throttle you right now, but I’m taking you back to Santa Fe with me, Mrs. Raffer. Your home’s there, not living with your parents!”

  “I suppose my parents called you?” she asked, fearing he knew her secret.

  Nick’s dark brows met over the bridge of his nose in an expression of confusion. “No, they didn’t. It would have helped if they had. You can’t imagine what you’ve put me through, not to mention the trouble it took to track you down!”

  She pulled away from the wrath on Nick’s face. “I—then why do. you want me to go back with you? I don’t understand. There’s no longer any reason to protect my virtue,” she said caustically. “And now that I’m not there to cause you any trouble, you’re free to divorce me and—and marry her . . . Sheila.”

  She was having trouble keeping the anguish out of her voice. Just the sight of Nick, so tall and ruggedly handsome, his presence dominating the room, was enough to make her lose the tight hold she was keeping on her self-control. Another second of looking at those piercing, all-consuming eyes and she would throw herself in his arms and rain kisses on that beloved face.

  “Sheila? What has all this to do with Sheila?”

  Her brows raised in surprise. “I thought—Don’t you want to marry Sheila?”

  Nick caught her in his arms again, crushing her against his chest. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to raise her eyes to meet his. “Julie” he said huskily, “you must believe me . . . there’s never been any other woman on my mind—or in my heart—since the night I pulled you from your overturned car. With your wily leprechaun face, you’ve possessed me, so I could think of nothing else but you!”

  “Me?” she asked, not really believing she was hearing Nick correctly.

  At last the mockery left Nick’s lips. “Yes, you,” he said tenderly. “Your courage in the face of the accident, your spirit in spite of your pain . . . they commanded my admiration. And later your womanly body ... in my cabin . . . with that wonderfully childlike virtue . . . the combination was something I had never run up against in all my affairs with other women.”

  “But. . . but you and Sheila are so well suited. I’m just a coun—”

  Nick’s impatient kiss silenced her confused protest, and she gave herself up to the flame of passion that only Nick could ignite. His mouth crushed hers as if he could not get enough of her. At last, when she felt as though molten lava surely poured through her feverish body, Nick released her.

  “Don’t you see, Julie,” he said with a tender smile, “we were made for each other . . . from our love of the outdoors to politics, even though we don’t always agree. That’s what makes knowing each other interesting.”

  “But I thought you didn’t like me,” she said, reveling in the exquisite feeling of his strong arms about her waist.

  “And I thought you hated me. So there seemed no other way to court you but to pressure you into marriage. Dee’s call gave me the opportunity . . . which I sorely regretted for so long afterward.”

  Her breath caught deep in her lungs, still fearful that this might be a scheme of Nick’s retaliation. “Why?”

  “Because being married to you—and not being able to have you—was worse than any kind of torture the Indians could have devised. And to see you in Jim’s arms the night of the governor’s ball and later him holding your hand in the restaurant—at that moment I would have gladly killed him and gone to prison for the rest of my life. Then, when you began to spend so much time with him on that project, I almost gave up hope of your ever coming to love me.”

  Her hand slipped up to caress Nick’s square-cut jaw. “But, darling, I tried to tell you that Jim meant nothing to me.”

  “I know that now. But for the longest time afte
r you left I thought you had gone to him. I told myself you deserved the opportunity to be happy with Jim. I read the Sun every day, searching for your byline. When none of your scathing articles appeared blasting me, and later when no divorce papers came, I began to get suspicious.

  “I called the newspaper, and the personnel department told me you had left—with no forwarding address. Let me tell you, love, even with the information resources I have, it was hard trying to trace you down. I remembered you telling me in Cozumel you lived somewhere in Texas, but I couldn’t recall where. Then I remembered your friend Pam, and I thought if anyone might know she would.”

  Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “I made Pam swear not to tell anyone where I went!”

  Nick smiled. “She was reluctant at first. But I managed to persuade her of my sincere intentions of good will toward you. She finally gave me your parents’ address.”

  His hands came up to catch either side of her temples, his fingers winding themselves in her long hair. “Julie, tell me that you love me, also,” he commanded. “Put me out of this misery.”

  She stood on tiptoe, her arms sliding up to encircle Nick’s neck. “Oh, Nick, I’ve loved you since that first night you so thoughtfully took off my tennis shoes.” She kissed his lips lightly and said, “Shall I tell you more?”

  “Tell me everything that comes into that delightfully provocative mind of yours. If you had told me you loved me to begin with it would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

  “Shall I tell you that you need to add another bedroom to our home?”

  “I’ll be damned if I will! You’re sleeping in my bed where you belong, Mrs. Raffer!” His head bent to claim another kiss, but she dodged the demanding lips.

  “But, Nick, the bedroom’s not for me,” she said with a teasing smile. “It’s for the baby we’re expecting in September.”

  She saw the surprise that froze Nick, and for a moment she feared he would not want her if she was with child. Then he swept her up in his arms. “Julie! It’s true?” he asked. “I’m going to be a father?”