A Convenient Proposal

by Lynnette Kent

  Arden reached for a wallpaper book, then drew back her hand and finished her glass of champagne instead. She tried looking over Rosalie’s shoulder, but her heart twisted at visions of fluffy lambs printed on pale aqua cotton, bunnies on pink, bears on yellow.

  The cover of the book at her feet caught her attention—a fully decorated nursery, all white furniture with red, yellow and blue striped fabrics on the bed and at the windows. Above a white chair rail, the wallpaper featured balloons in those same colors floating merrily through the sky. Below the rail, a wallpaper mural depicted a little town with shopping district and offices, neighborhoods and churches, a big park and outlying farms and fields with horses and cows—a child’s world on the walls.

  And in the center of this perfect room sat a happy, dark-haired mother holding a little boy with blond curls and blue eyes.

  Arden stared at the picture, losing awareness of anything happening around her as she drowned in what-might-have-been.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Rosalie set a hand over the fists Arden had clenched in her lap.

  Looking up, Arden found the three sisters staring at her, too.

  “What’s wrong?” Kathy crouched in front of her. “Are you sick?”

  In the next moment, the phone rang, and Arden was saved by the bell.

  ONCE HIS DAD ARRIVED at the hospital, Griff wasn’t surprised to see his mother show up.

  But he was somewhat startled when, one after the other, his sisters, their husbands and Arden entered the emergency room cubicle.

  “You all didn’t have to come down here,” he protested. “I told Dad he shouldn’t have called. I was out for only a few seconds.”

  “More like ten minutes,” Jake growled. “The folks at the club called the ambulance.”

  Lauren, Dana and Kathy took up one side of the bed, with their men and his parents on the other. Arden stood at the end, looking pale and frightened.

  He ached to get his arms around her and chase the shadows from her eyes.

  First, he had to answer all the questions, including what happened? Who did this? Why? What did you say? What did he say? Why didn’t somebody else stop him? Why did you try?

  And he had to deal with his dad’s anger. “I’m going to tan that boy’s backside when I get hold of him.”

  “You’re going to stay away from Al if Mom has to tie you in a chair,” Griff told him. “Leave him alone, all of you. Zelda, too. We need to stay out of their way until the wedding.”

  His mother nodded in approval, but the girls took more convincing.

  Kathy propped her hands on her hips. “She dumped you, and I think a little suffering is good for her.”

  “She’s suffered,” Griff said. “At least as much as I have. And Al’s had the worst of it.”

  “They could have let you know sooner,” Dana said. “They embarrassed all of us, waiting till the last minute.”

  “Not to mention how hard you worked on the house, only to sell it.” Lauren shook her head. “I painted and wallpapered. I put a lot of work into those walls.”

  “I know you did.” Griff grabbed her hand. “But it’s over and done, and we need to forget. Let’s think about the future.” He looked at Arden as he said that, but she avoided his eyes.

  “So, can you leave now?” Kathy asked. “You don’t have to spend the night, do you?”

  “Waiting on test results,” his dad said. “Then they’ll let us know.”

  The doctor did a double take when he came in a few minutes later. “Did I miss the reunion announcement?”

  “Just the standard family conference,” Griff announced. “So, can I leave?”

  “The CT scan looks good. Do you have someone who can keep an eye on you overnight?”

  Nine people in the room nodded.

  The doctor surveyed the group of them, then turned back to Griff. “I guess you’re covered. I’ll sign your release papers.”

  “Thanks,” he said, offering a handshake as his sisters hugged each other and everyone else. “I told you I was fine.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” The doctor waved as he left. “Enjoy the reunion.”

  The argument over where he would spend the night might have lasted until dawn if his mother hadn’t spoken up.

  “Griff has a very capable woman to look after him tonight. He doesn’t need his sisters—”

  “Though he loves them,” Griff interjected.

  “—or his parents. Arden will make sure he’s alive and kicking tomorrow morning.”

  Jake was still protesting as Rosalie pushed him out of the room. “You’re the one who sent him to the woods at age fifteen to live off the land for two days. Don’t try to coddle him now.”

  She came back to the bed and bent over to kiss Griff’s cheek. “I’m glad to see you’ve learned so much in these last six months,” she said quietly. “I’m proud of you.”

  And she stopped by Arden as she left. Griff couldn’t hear what she whispered, but saw Arden nod.

  Then, finally, they were alone. “Come here,” he said, sitting up on the side of the bed and holding out his arms.

  After hesitating a moment, she walked over to wrap her arms around his waist.

  Griff sighed. A truce, of sorts.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. “I can’t believe Al pushed you like that. Isn’t that dirty fighting?”

  “I think it’s mostly called drunk and disorderly.” Griff took a deep breath, drawing in crisp, floral perfume, creamy shampoo, almond lotion and lavender sachets, plus the unique essence of the woman herself. “Let’s go home.”

  At the cottage, he insisted on taking Igor for a walk while Arden got ready for bed. “Fresh air cures everything,” he said, when she argued with him.

  “Except frostbite,” she retorted.

  Griff found himself grinning at her. “I won’t be gone that long.”

  When he returned to the bedroom, the lights were already off—not Arden’s usual style. The bed was empty, but a crack of light showed under the bathroom door. Not sure what message he was supposed to be getting, he donned his sweatpants and a T-shirt before climbing between the sheets.

  She turned the bathroom light off before opening the door, and crossed the room in darkness. When he reached for her, she didn’t turn away.

  “Arden,” he whispered, tracing the contours of her waist, her hips and thighs with his palms. “We don’t have to be so angry.”

  “No.” Her lips played with his earlobe. “We don’t.”

  Saying “I love you,” though, was simply too hard. Using the words, even in a pitch-dark room, required more pride than he could risk.

  And so they spent another wordless night together, connected in every way…except the one that mattered most.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arden spent the two weeks before Zelda and Al’s wedding playing her part as Griff’s devoted fiancée—it was, she knew, all she would ever have of him.

  They went to church together, to the movies and to the local flea market on Saturday morning. They rode Dorsey and Cowboy on Sunday afternoons. Frequent invitations for dinner with some of his friends and their wives filled their evenings, until they could return to the cottage and spend the dark hours making love. Those nights might have been why Griff was so tired most days at work. Neither of them would have traded sex for sleep.

  They were getting along better, on the surface, at least. They could laugh together, and share jokes. Of course, Arden was all too aware of the secrets she continued to keep from him. And despite his efforts, Griff obviously couldn’t forget the secrets she’d revealed. With such distrust between them, Arden sensed she wouldn’t be staying in Georgia much longer.

  Her last lunch with the Campbell sisters took place on the Wednesday, before Zelda’s wedding, again at Pirouette. No slippery asphalt marred the occasion—the sun shone and a temperature above sixty degrees allowed them to sit at a table on the terrace.

  Arden d
id her best not to think of this as a farewell luncheon, though she didn’t expect to see any of them in private again. The four of them laughed throughout the meal, and she thought she’d been keeping up appearances quite well.

  Once Lauren and Dana had left to return to work, however, Kathy leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. “I’ve been dying to talk to you for days. I’m so glad I finally got the chance.”

  Arden had wondered if she would have to account for the way she’d broken down at Kathy’s “decor orgy.” She was surprised when none of the Campbell women had brought up the subject.

  And Kathy had evidently moved on. “Since you told us about your hearing loss, I’ve wanted to share some thoughts with you. There are programs that provide assistance for partially or completely deaf kids so they can go to regular public schools. You would make a terrific volunteer—an example of what can be accomplished despite this disability.”

  Arden tried to be polite. “Thanks, but—”

  “Another idea I had was music appreciation classes for children with partial deafness—you could help them experience the sounds to the extent of their ability, help them physically sense the vibrations, that sort of thing. What do you think?”

  Arden thought she might faint, because she couldn’t get a decent breath. As Kathy spoke, some kind of weight seemed to have settled in Arden’s chest, compressing her lungs.

  In all the months since she’d first heard the word deaf applied to herself, Arden had tried to distance herself from that fact. She’d arranged her life so she didn’t really need to hear to get along. No one spoke to her, the dog didn’t bark—the world could become totally soundless without affecting her in the least.

  Then Griff had arrived, bringing with him relationships and conversation and music, damn him. She’d learned to talk to people, to enjoy them, to actually forget the defect that had so diminished her existence.

  And now Kathy wanted her to use that flaw? To celebrate her disability as a model of how to cope? To pretend she didn’t wake every morning in despair because she couldn’t hear the birds sing?

  “I—I’ll think about it,” she managed to say without screaming. “It’s an…an interesting idea.” She grabbed the check off the table. “I’ll take care of this, but I have to be…somewhere in just a few minutes.” Leaning in, she kissed the air beside Kathy’s cheek. “Take care.”

  That was one lesson Griff hadn’t needed to teach her, Arden decided, driving out of Sheridan at a speed considerably over the legal limit.

  How to run away.

  ON THURSDAY AFTERNOON, Griff found himself returning to the office from a farm call on the same side of town where the house he’d once owned was located. Out of curiosity, he took the still-familiar turns leading to his former address. He intended just to see the place and how it was being taken care of, and then drive on.

  The first change he noted was color—he’d painted the siding a soft yellow and the shutters bright blue, but the new owner had wanted a mellow green with white. Even in winter, he could tell the landscaping had been improved, with trees and shrubs enhancing what had once been a plain grass lawn. But then, he’d planned for Zelda, with her green thumb, to design the plantings after their wedding.

  A car sat in the driveway, a silver compact similar to the make Zelda drove. As Griff approached, he realized it wasn’t just similar—it was the exact car Zelda drove. Then he glanced at the mailbox—a bigger and prettier style than the one he’d put up. Lettered on the side was the last name of the residents: McPherson.

  Griff slammed on the brakes and stopped the SUV beside the driveway, shut off the engine and stalked to the front door. Pushing the bell with one finger, he didn’t release the pressure.

  As the door opened, an irritated woman’s voice said, “I hear you, I hear you. My goodness, what is your—” Zelda stood on the other side of the screen, staring at him. “What do you want?”

  At that moment, he saw honest fear in her eyes. Zelda, the girl he’d known since grade school, could actually believe he might hurt her.

  His anger leached away. Shoulders slumped, he blew out a breath. “I drove by to see the place, then realized you were living here. I only want to talk, Zelda. Can I come in?”

  Because she knew him, she could recognize the change in his feelings. “Sure, Griff. Come on in.”

  The living room contained furniture—some of which he recognized from Zelda’s old apartment—and boxes. “We’re still moving stuff in,” she explained, gathering wrapping tissue off a chair so he could sit down.

  “You haven’t been living here since…June?”

  She sat down on the coffee table, the paper clutched in her lap. “No. I—I couldn’t.”

  “I see.” No wonder Al had been so worked up. “I didn’t know the name of the buyer. I just got a check from the lawyer. So I was surprised when I saw the mailbox.”

  “Your family didn’t tell you?”

  Griff shook his head. “Maybe they thought I knew. Maybe I should have—I wasn’t paying too much attention back then.”

  Zelda nodded. “I didn’t tell people around here for a long time.”

  “But why would you and Al want to live here? Why not get a house I had nothing to do with?”

  She hugged the paper in her arms a little tighter. “We missed you, Griff. Both of us, all the time. We betrayed you, and yet we still loved you and wanted you in our lives.”

  Hard stuff to hear. Griff gripped his hands together between his knees, staring at the floor.

  “Al found the house first, saw it was for sale and told me about it. I came by myself and I just about died, seeing all the work you’d done for me. So Al and I decided we owed it to you to live here.”

  Griff looked up. “You do know that’s weird, right? I mean, you came here to tell me you wouldn’t marry me, and now you’ll be living here with the guy you dumped me for. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense.”

  “Probably not.” Zelda’s smile was sad. “I always loved you, Griff. I always loved Al, too. You asked me out first, he stepped aside, and everything just kind of flowed from there. I flowed with it.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  She sighed. “Being with you, Griff, takes so much energy. Mental, emotional, physical—I always felt like I was falling behind. Always running to catch up. It’s nothing you do or say—just the way you are. Al and I move at the same pace. We’re not so brilliant, not as dynamic or exciting as you are. But we fit.” Her smile was a little bit wicked. “Boy, do we fit.”

  “I’m glad,” Griff said, from his heart. “I want you to be happy.”

  “I know you do.” She let the paper fall to the floor and came to stand in front of him, holding out her hands. “I am sorry we hurt you so badly. I should have known my own mind a long time before I did. But weddings take on a life of their own—you get so wrapped up in the process you don’t look ahead to the final result. I didn’t, anyway, until almost too late.”

  Grasping her hands, Griff stood up. “What happened?”

  “Your dad came to see me one afternoon.”

  “My dad?” Griff released her and started to pace. “My dad is the reason you broke up with me?”

  “No. Well…” Zelda flushed when he stopped to stare at her. “He just talked, Griff, about marriage being a big challenge, needing all that two people can give to each other. And when I thought about it, I knew I wasn’t enough for you.”

  “That’s not what I thought.”

  “But I did, and so it would have mattered one way or the other. Then Al caught me speeding one day, out on Old Orchard Road. He actually gave me a ticket!” She laughed, still obviously delighted. “On the ticket form, he wrote, ‘It’s not too late. Marry me, instead.’”

  Griff laughed, too. “Good for Al. He knew what he wanted and he went for it.” Then Griff looked down at her. “You have my best wishes for a happy life, Zelda. God bless you both.”

  “Thank you.” She p
ulled his head down. “Here’s your kiss from the bride.”

  Her lips touched his briefly, with absolutely no sparks. He hugged her, recognizing the rebirth of friendship from the ashes of a romance.

  The front door slammed open. “Get your hands off my wife,” Al declared. “You can’t have her.”

  Griff did as ordered. “I don’t want her.” He glanced at Zelda. “With apologies, you understand.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips, facing her fiancé. “I understand someone’s being a jerk. Stop it, Al.”

  Al wasn’t listening. He headed for Griff, hands up and ready to grapple.

  “Not this time, buddy.” Griff sidestepped. “The back of my head still hurts.”

  A couple of quick moves he’d learned in the islands swept Al’s feet out from under him and dropped him hard onto his back, knocking the breath out of him.

  “I owed you that,” Griff said. “Be grateful for the carpet. You can apologize in the receiving line at the reception.” He stepped over Al on his way to the door. “Congratulations, by the way. You’ve got a beautiful bride.” He pulled the door closed behind him on the way out.

  “I wish I could say the same,” he muttered to himself. And then sighed.

  ARDEN AWOKE SMILING on Valentine’s Day, thinking of the sensuous night just past and inhaling the delicious aroma of coffee.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Griff sat down on the bed beside her and leaned over to give her a coffee-flavored kiss. “Don’t get up. I’m ready to leave.”

  “Too bad. We could have breakfast in bed. Again.” They’d spent all of the rainy Sunday just past exactly that way. “Is the weather better?”

  “Still raining, and spitting snow. Not quite what you hope for on your wedding day.” He kissed her again and stood up. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Dad kept the surgery schedule light and there are no appointments after three, so I have a good chance of actually making it to the wedding by six.”

  His well-laid plans fell apart when a prize mare on the far side of the county had trouble giving birth. Griff called Arden on his way out, predicting he would return in plenty of time to dress and drive her to the wedding.