by Amy Fetzer
"Would you get that?" Tessa called from the kitchen.
He inhaled the delicious smells pouring through the house, then crossed to the door. He flung it open and stared at the woman on Tessa's doorstep.
"You must be Chase," she said, inspecting him critically from head to toe.
"And you are?"
She put up a hand, a truckload of silver bracelets racking her wrist, then stepped forward and grabbed his hand, pushing her way inside and staring intensely at his palm. Tessa poked her head out of the kitchen and sighed, shaking her head.
"Angel?" he said, helpless.
"I see you've met Mom."
He glanced sideways at the woman. "Not exactly."
Tessa's mother was oblivious to the conversation and Tessa's look begged him to have patience. Some of her family were apparently a little outside of the loop.
Chase studied the woman. Tessa had her features, soft, angelically smooth, but her mother's hair was red, flame red and wild with curls. Her slender body was clothed in silks with an uneven, tattered look in shades of blue and purple. A ring circled every finger, and Chase resisted the urge to inspect her toes.
"Mom?"
Celeste looked up after a moment and smiled. She patted his hand and Chase took it back, shoving both hands into the pockets of his cutoffs and wishing he were dressed a little better.
"Tessa, darling, look at you," her mother crooned dramatically, grasping her hands and stretching her arms wide to get a decent look at her nearly eight-month tummy. Bracelets jangled and a huge tapestry handbag swung from her arm. Her mom's eyes teared. "Oh, you're just … just—"
"Pleasingly plump?" Tessa ventured when she thought her mother would cry.
Celeste laughed, a soft husky sound, and Chase knew where he'd heard it before: from Tessa, in bed.
Tessa closed her arms around her mother, savoring the warm hug, and winked at Chase over her shoulder. Celeste Lightfoot was a tiny thing.
"We were just about to have lunch."
"No red meat, I hope. Nitrates, you know."
Chase flung his arm around Tessa, pressing his lips to her temple to smother a snicker. If Celeste only knew how Tessa had devoured an inch-thick T-bone steak last night, she'd be horrified.
"Grilled chicken. Come on." She grabbed her mother's hand and the two women headed toward the kitchen.
"Chase," Tessa called when he wasn't right behind her. She popped her head out of the kitchen, motioning wildly for him to join them, looking almost panicked.
Chase gestured to the door, inching toward it. "Ahh, I have a couple errands—"
Tessa moved across the floor with more speed than he thought possible. "Do I have to bribe you?"
He swept one arm around her, settling his hand familiarly on the curve of her bottom. "What did you have in mind?" His brows wiggled, his hand squeezing.
"Chase!" she hissed, giving him a shove, aware of exactly where his mind was right then.
Her blush made him chuckle softly.
Tessa gave a furtive glance toward the kitchen. "She'll be inventorying my cupboards and tossing anything that isn't organically grown out the window, you'll see."
"Not my peanut butter cookies!" he said in mock horror.
She ribbed him. "If you hurry you might save them from total annihilation."
Urging her toward the kitchen, Chase inhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself for an afternoon with a woman he hoped would soon be his mother-in-law.
Two hours later, Chase and Celeste were relaxing on the back porch, drinking some horrific tea Celeste had prepared herself. She'd pumped him full of herbs, insisting he consumed too many nitrates, and that the tea should purify his system. Chase, not wanting to offend her, took them only after Tessa discreetly assured him he would not turn into a mutant. He smacked his lips, tasting grass and feeling like a well-grazed cow.
Tessa napped inside and Chase wanted to join her. Celeste Lightfoot was tiring on a man and he felt a pang of sympathy for Tessa's father, Walter. He'd probably died from Celeste exposure. She chatted nonstop, couldn't seem to be still, and her bracelets jangled with every gesture. But Chase liked her. She had a special energy, a oneness with the universe, as she chose to see it. And she loved her daughters.
"You're sleeping together, aren't you?"
He'd grown accustomed to her bluntness in the past hour or so. Chase nodded.
"Good."
His brows shot up. Hardly the reaction he'd expected.
"Tessa needs to feel like a woman right now. I know from experience that the bigger you get, the less attractive you feel, and you just want it over with."
"I think she's beautiful. I love her."
She reached out and patted his hand. "I know, Chase, honey. I know. And you've been patient, but it'll take a lot more to handle my Tessa."
His forehead wrinkled. "I don't want to handle her, Celeste."
Celeste scoffed, finished off her tea, then threw her legs over the side of the chaise lounge chair. She stared across the small separation at Chase. "I didn't want her to get pregnant that way. Nothing anyone could say would change her mind. She's stubborn."
Chase smiled. That he knew.
"No, understand. Even when the doctors said it was risky and could be painful, she charged ahead." Celeste shook her head and Chase sat up a bit straighter. "When I think how Dia made her life miserable, constantly offering unwanted legal advice and whatnot." Celeste broke her gaze, and Chase imagined he saw a flicker of guilt in her bright green eyes. She seemed to struggle with her words and when she spoke, Chase felt it wasn't what she really wanted to say. "If she doesn't want to marry you, Chase, it will be hard to change her mind."
Her tone implied hope, and Chase smiled. "Let me worry about it, Celeste."
"I will," she said as if she'd imagined no other prospect. She nodded, flinging long red curls off her shoulder before she stood. Chase rose, and after Celeste had peeked in on Tessa, sleeping like a wrecked train, he walked her to the door. "It'll work out in the end," she said, patting his hand, but her eyes said there would be a lot of pain in getting there.
"She gone?"
He whirled and found Tessa peering around the corner. "You little sneak."
"Mom tends to be a bit—"
He peered. "Zealous?"
She laughed softly, leaning against the wall as he came to her. Her body heated at the sight of him, lean and tan in cutoffs and a black tank top. And she slid her arms around his waist, envious of its trimness.
"She doesn't think you'll marry me."
"She's right."
He frowned, the scowl masking his hurt. "I swear I don't understand you, angel. I love you. You love me. Why not?"
Uncertainty. Was she feeling this way because he was her baby's father or was it because she'd finally found true, honest love? The uncertainty was eating at her. And then there was the fear. She kept remembering her mother and father, the arguments, the nights her mom spent sobbing when she thought none of her daughters could hear. She couldn't do that to her own child. But the uncertainty wore on her the hardest. "I just can't."
"I'll keep asking." He said it like a warning and she brushed her mouth across his.
"I know. You're annoying like that, but I love you anyway."
His smile was easy, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. Loving Tessa was almost a challenge of wills. Her will. He was happy. He adored her, God knew. But a man had only so much patience to stretch. And he wondered when and what would make his snap.
A couple weeks later, Chase helped Tessa into the car. She looked exhausted, her hair slipping from the knot on her crown, dark smudges under her eyes. A stab of sympathy bent through him. She was less than three weeks away from her due date and she was miserable. She hadn't slept well lately, couldn't get comfortable no matter how many pillows she propped under and around her. During the times he did stay the night, it was like fending off a rampaging sea of stuffed animals to get to her.
"Maybe you
should close the shop for a couple … of days … a week." His words trailed off at the deadly glare she sent him.
"Stuff it, Chase. I'm not closing until I have to."
His features tightened. Her obstinance was no longer amusing, and he wanted to shake her. "Be reasonable, Tessa. Look at your feet, for God's sake!"
"I know what they look like. I feel it!"
He reared back and she stared out the windshield, regretting her waspish mood when he was only trying to be helpful. Chase moved around the Jeep and climbed behind the wheel.
Tessa hated that she was so big he had to drive her everywhere, hated that she had to depend on anyone just to do the simplest things, and Tessa knew, she knew, it wasn't his fault.
"I'm sorry," she said when he closed the door.
"I love you."
She lifted her gaze to his, her lips trembling as she waved him closer. Cupping his strong jaw, she stared into his blue eyes. "I love you too, darling. Don't forget that."
"Even when you rip into me like a wounded tiger?"
She kissed him then, silencing and warm, then smoothed her thumb over his lips. "Always."
He settled back into the seat and drove her home. The ride was painfully quiet.
"Do you mind if I don't ask you to stay?" she said at the door, and his expression froze on his face. "I'm just so tired."
"I'll miss you." He brushed a kiss over her soft mouth. "Rest. I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed him once more, then slipped inside.
It wasn't like they spent every night together, he reasoned, trying not to feel hurt. He wished she'd share with him whatever was really bothering her.
The next day, Tessa braced her hand at the base of her spine, massaging the ache, and stared out her shop window. Business was slow and she was grateful for the reprieve. Her legs and feet were killing her. She was as big as a house and she decided that being pregnant was only fun until the seventh month; then it was like a bothersome stone strapped to her middle. She swore if someone told her how wonderfully round and radiant she looked, she'd deck them and like it. Rubbing her back, she walked to the rear of the store. Dana smiled wanly and Tessa apologized for snapping at her earlier, then went to sort through sizes and collect discarded garments. She blamed hormones, the extra weight, the throbbing in her back or the pressure that wouldn't let her sleep, but really she wanted to blame Chase.
Yet she couldn't. God, she couldn't so much as move without him coming to her rescue, always attentive, smiling so much there were times she wanted to smack it off his face. And now that she was so close to delivering what she felt was a female version of Big Foot, they couldn't make love. It was just as well. She had no desire, felt too fat and awkward. But she missed the intimacy. It was something tangible to cling to when she felt her emotions get the better of her.
She couldn't ask for a better man and she loved Chase so much it hurt to look in his eyes and say no when he proposed, which he did every morning, swearing one day he'd wear her down till she agreed. Saying no was wearing on her just as much as asking was on him. But she couldn't marry him and she had tried for days to examine her feelings. All she found were doubts and fears, fears that he loved her because of their baby; that when their child was born, he'd lose interest; that she could never trust her heart or his words. The only way she could protect herself was to cling to her independence. To give it up would be like removing a protective cloak. If she married him, she'd never know if this was for real and everlasting. Or for the baby. And how will you know anyway? a voice pestered. The baby will always be there. Tears threatened and Tessa swallowed. I'm such a mess, she thought dismally.
"Excuse me? Tessa?"
Tessa flinched, so deep in her thoughts she didn't hear the door chime. She turned and found a sharply dressed woman in her late fifties. "May I help you?" Tessa frowned softly, then her features stretched tight. "Mrs. Madison," she realized. The picture in Chase's place. She was the woman who'd shopped here the day Chase waited on Lila Dewberry.
"Come sit down, dear. I'm exhausted just watching you move around," she said efficiently, and Tessa joined her on the small Queen Anne settee tucked against the wall. She was suddenly nervous.
"I'm Carole Anne." She held out her hand and Tessa grasped it.
Carole Anne noticed her cold hand trembled and rubbed it gently, her expression laced with so much compassion, Tessa felt her composure slip. "I know."
"Oh, Tessa," she said softly. "I haven't come to badger you, if that's what you think." Tessa admitted she did. "Chase didn't send me here."
Tessa blinked.
"Carl and I were hoping you'd come visit, but when you didn't—" she shrugged "—we understood."
"I wish I did," Tessa said sullenly.
Chase's mother scooted closer. "You aren't in this alone, Tessa. Nothing has to be done now. I know my son. He loves with everything he has. Yet he can be very persistent." Tessa smiled at that solid intuition. "But if it doesn't work out between you, I want you to know there is a place for you and your baby in our lives." She hesitated. "If you'll have us."
Tessa's eyes watered. "I won't deny you your grandchild, Carole Anne, but that isn't the problem. I love Chase. I do," she cried softly. "But I can't seem to trust it, to just let go like he wants. Not when I feel like this." She gestured to her stomach.
"Perhaps putting your feelings aside till after the baby comes is best, then?"
Tessa shrugged, staring at the floor and wishing she could see her feet. "Wish I could, but putting a hold on loving him just isn't possible."
Carole Anne smiled, pleased, but Tessa didn't see it. "Then perhaps seeing less of each other might help?"
A sound worked in her throat. The thought of a day passing without seeing Chase squeezed down on her heart. But what Carole Anne said was reasonable, and Tessa decided that's where Chase had inherited the trait. Until this child was born, they couldn't decide anything, and Tessa knew she was in no frame of mind right now.
"Mom? What are you doing here?"
Both women looked up and Chase's gaze shot between them, ending on Tessa. "Are you okay, angel?"
She nodded and he moved closer, giving his mother a stay-out-of-this look. Carole Anne stood, catching her eldest son's arm in a gentle but firm grasp, and Chase suddenly felt ten years old from the assessing look in her eyes.
"Patience, Chase. And remember our little chat," she ended in warning.
She brushed a kiss to Tessa's cheek, told her to call if she wanted to talk, then left the shop with all the class of a sloop in full sail.
He remembered his mom's little chat. She'd done all the talking and expected him to heed her warnings that men never have babies and can't sympathize nor understand the physical burden and the emotional upheaval women experience. That if he had any romantic notions about speaking vows moments before their child was born, he could forget it. Women were scared at this time, no matter the brave front they showed. Fear of stillbirth, handicaps, anything they could imagine might happen, fueled the prospects of impending motherhood, and men couldn't share in it. It made Chase feel cut out, and his Dad had stood by, listening, then finally agreed with his mom.
But the closer they came to her due date, the more Chase felt Tessa was pushing him away. Giving birth shouldn't have anything to do with their love, he kept telling himself. But as he looked into her face, strained and unhappy, he knew it did.
He sat down beside her, and Tessa sank into his arm, snuggling her cheek against his chest.
Chase closed his eyes and prepared himself. "You've decided something, haven't you?"
She nodded, quiet tears soaking his shirt.
"Whatever you want Tessa, I'll do it." His hand roamed familiarly over her belly, "If it's what you want."
Dread deepened his voice and Tessa didn't want to hurt him, never wanted to, but she just couldn't rely on her feelings right now. She couldn't think clearly. And although she doubted being apart would make her life simpler, she hoped she'd have a decisive b
earing on their situation, maybe even erase the doubts that hovered like an ax about to fall. She was breaking his heart and draining his patience. Her emotions and logic did a constant sidestepping, giving her real contentment and love one moment, then riddling her into a pile of emotional mush the next. And it was growing harder and harder to look into his hopeful eyes each time he asked her to be his wife.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the words past her pain, the agony she'd give him. "Till the baby comes, I don't think we should see each other."
Hurt stabbed through Chase, and his mouth tightened in a grim line. He was right. She could destroy him with just a few well-chosen words.
What she'd said didn't really hit him until later that day when he went to put on his cutoffs and realized they were at Tessa's. It made him irritable. And during the next week, he felt like a voyeur, a pervert, stealing looks at her from a distance. Seeing, but not touching. He passed her on the road and nearly smashed his Jeep, saw her in the market and felt as if she'd kicked him in the teeth when she made a complete turnaround, leaving her basket in the center aisle.
Yet he called her every day, needed to hear her voice, and though she wasn't her usual conversational self, she talked about anything except what she was feeling. Or what she was doing to him. And when he hung up the phone, he felt drained from avoiding the subject of how totally she'd pushed him out of her life.
Then, after a week, he got angry.
"You're acting too much like Christian," Colin said from across the table. Chase's eyes shot over the poor excuse for a poker hand as he tossed a chip onto the table. "Is that right?" Colin didn't notice the explosive edge in Chase's tone or he would have just kept his mouth shut.
"Yeah, lighten up. One depressing hermit brother is enough. Besides, Bro, it's only till the baby comes."
"Back off, Colin," Tigh said and anted up.
Colin glanced at his sixth-grade buddy and frowned, then looked at Chase. "You want to talk about it?" Colin said, waiting till he met his gaze.
"Nothing to say." Chase slapped the cards on the table, the chair scraping back as he stood. "I have nothing to say about it. Tessa rules, didn't you know that? Tessa says leave, butt out, and like a goddamned trained puppy, I do it!"