A Loving Man

by Cait London

  He’d said he loved her…. He’d said he loved her. Stefan wasn’t a man to say anything he didn’t mean.

  Rose went into the house and got the old shoe box that was her mother’s. It was battered by a young Rose, furious with life. But now it was time to put away the pain and begin living—to be complete as a woman and leave the rest behind. She’d never wanted to get married, despite her engagements, because part of her still mulled the past and feared how she would be as a wife and mother. The memories had dulled, but they remained inside, simmering, until loving Stefan began to open the unresolved past. She had feared commitment, and the pain of losing. She’d wanted to be so strong and independent within her walls that nothing could ever touch her again.

  Then Stefan had come into her life—big and bold and sweet—opening and tearing away the past, bit by bit, filling it with beautiful memories. Rose moved carefully through her thoughts, sorting the important from the clutter. It was time to meet life and what it offered, rather than running from it. I love you, he’d said and Stefan wasn’t a man to toss words easy and free—he always meant what he said. I love you.

  Rose scrubbed away her tears and leaned against a faerie. If ever she wanted to believe in fairy tales coming true, it was now. “I love you, too,” she whispered to her palm and blew the words away into the wind.

  The next morning in Chicago, Stefan sat at the Donatien discussion table, his mind on Rose, on her too-bright expression, and on the way she ran from him. Nothing would have been gained by following her and pressing a point she already doubted. And he’d been hurt, too, that her belief in him ran so thin. In the end, he thought it best to give Rose time—one of the hardest decisions of his life.

  A hot debate raged between the Donatien businessmen, some of them elderly and steadfast in his father’s strict policies. The younger staff presented a new retirement plan and struggled against the “We’ve always done it this way.” The older members had their points and logic, and the two factions weren’t agreeing on anything.

  Stefan tapped his pen on the table and tried to follow the debate. He was too tired, and not up to the decisions he must make. He’d tried to call Rose until all hours; she wasn’t taking his calls, locking herself away in her safe place, away from his love. She’d been stricken when he told her he loved her, and he’d chosen the wrong moment and issued his emotions too hurriedly. But he’d struggled to give her time to adjust, and then there was no time, an elderly retiree calling him with pension problems that affected several hundred other people.

  The issues soared back and forth across the table and Stefan made notes. He found it best to let the tempers rage, clearing the air and getting to the real heart of the issues, rather than the polite cover-ups. He itemized each issue, dissecting it on his yellow pad. He smiled briefly at the small faerie sketches he’d drawn, and picked his way through the latest storm on the discussion table. “Tim isn’t going anywhere. He’s made his mistakes and learned from them. He has years of service at Donatien’s and I stand behind him,” he said quietly. “You’re not moving me on this issue.”

  The older businessmen nodded sagely, because when Stefan’s father sounded like that, there was no arguing.

  Megan, his secretary, moved close to whisper, “Private call. Line one. It’s her. A Miss Rose Granger. Shall I say you’ll call her back?”

  Stefan knew the value of staying with heated debates and not leaving the room at a crucial time—but he wanted to talk with Rose. “I’ll take the call here.”

  “Here?” Megan’s tone reflected her astonishment— Donatien business meetings were never to be interrupted with personal calls—Miss Rose Granger must have indicated she had personal business with Stefan.

  “Stefan here,” he said and waited for Rose to speak. Had she seen the faeries? What would she think? Would she believe his love? Had he terrified her, telling her of his love, giving her gifts of his heart?

  “I can’t pay for all these,” she said finally. She spoke as if she didn’t know where to start and that was the top issue on her mind. “Larry and Henry said they were custom made.”

  “They’re a gift from me. To keep you company while I’m away.” Her silence said she was weighing his words and that struck Stefan’s pride. There was always that doubt in her, that tiny nagging lack of trust.

  “I have nothing to give you,” Rose said quietly.

  “But of course you do, my darling. And this isn’t a gift to be equaled, Rose. It’s one of the heart and freely given.” Stefan ignored the silence around his board table, the downcast faces, the tense poses that said they were listening closely. Stefan studied them, the staunch, elderly peers of his father who wanted to change nothing, and resisted women into the mix. The women at the table had earned their place and the younger men were all part of a family—his family. Estelle had expressed interest in entering the business, in managing it. It would take her years to win over the old guard, but then Estelle had learned a few things from Rose. Simple things, like listening and that gentle persuasion.

  He saw no reason not to throw his “Rose” problems on the table with the rest of the current business. “I love this woman. I want to marry her,” Stefan told them, making certain that Rose could hear, because he’d punched the loudspeaker button. “I gave her faerie statues for her rose garden and now she wants to know how much to pay me. What do you think of that?”

  Stunned silence flattened the room. Stefan Donatien was his father’s son, bred to business, not to emotions or romantic gifts. His heritage was grim and weighty. He smiled at Rose’s slight gasp at the other end of the line. “I love you, Rose. Get used to it. I’m not going to be an ex-fiancé. I want to be your husband, if you’ll have me. I asked your father some time ago, because after all, I am a traditional man. I have his permission to ask you. All we have to do—you and I—is to settle the fine points between—like if you love me and want to marry me. We’ll live in Waterville, of course. We’ll take whatever time you need.”

  He smiled grimly at Rose’s next gasp. “Is everyone listening to this?” she asked unevenly.

  “I have nothing to hide. You make me very happy.” He hadn’t meant to hurl his intentions at her that way, but he was still new at separating business and love. “You’re very good at relationships, the best at facilitating tense situations. I’m in a discussion now where no one wants to budge. Please help me, Rose.”

  He smiled and waited, because Rose always knew the right answers when it came to people. She was wandering through his “I love you,” and her fears, but she never let anyone down who needed her. He held up his hand when the staunch old guard looked like they might object.

  “Well,” Rose said softly, thoughtfully. “First of all— I think you should send out for ice-cream cones. They always make things better. And if the weather is beautiful there, as it is here—a bright fall day—open the window to let the wind blow in and clear away the tension. And listen to the life passing through on the sidewalk below. I think by the time you’ve done all that, and talked about the different flavors of ice cream, everyone might be flowing along in the same track.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thank you, Rose. I miss you.” Stefan nodded to his secretary, who blinked and silently mouthed, “Ice-cream cones?” He nodded again and she hurriedly left the room.

  “Do you need me for anything else, Stefan?” Rose asked over the loudspeaker in a professional tone.

  “Yes,” he said huskily and smiled again at the pause.

  “Oh. Bye,” she returned in that breathless tone he loved. He inhaled briefly when the line clicked off. Then Stefan started to work, settling the issues, because he wanted to go home to Rose.

  When his secretary came into the room again, her expression concerned, Stefan nodded. He picked up the telephone and smiled as he heard Rose’s voice. “I’m not happy,” she said. “I don’t know how to handle all this.”

  “It won’t do for our children to have an unhappy mother,” Stefan said, enjoyin
g the play. He listened to Rose’s uneven breathing and imagined her steamy, quivery look like just before she tore his T-shirt to have him. “I’ll be home soon and we’ll fix that.”

  “Oh. Goodbye,” she said airily after a slight hesitation, and the line clicked off.

  Stefan looked around the table, at the older, rigid faces, silently admonishing him for his lack of business protocol. The younger ones were softer and Stefan relaxed a bit as the women smiled fondly at him—they’d always been a little uncertain of him and now that gap seemed to be closing. “We’ll manage, and we’ll succeed,” he said firmly. “I forbid anything else.”

  How could Stefan be so confident of her? Of them? Rose wondered as she spent hours amid the faeries he had given her, each one perfect—except the one with the tutu and that was slanted oddly, her gauzy panties showing. Each day Rose wondered what she could give Stefan, and the leaves of the oaks shading the faeries gave no answers.

  The casseroles didn’t come to her as they usually did after a breakup. Life was odd and lonely, and she waited for Yvette’s tidbits of Stefan. He sent her a tiny, perfect pin, one with diamonds on the fragile faerie wing. It was elegant and contrasted her T-shirt, but she wore it anyway—at night in her rose garden with the faeries. She sent him a thank-you note, because that seemed very proper to do. What could she give Stefan? Was it possible he really loved her and that he was coming back?

  Another week took Rose into mid-September and Stefan wasn’t calling. She knew he was very busy and giving her time to think. Yet all she could think of was needing him close and safe. To show her father that Maggie White was perfectly welcome in their family, Rose threw a swing dance party at the Granger home. Yvette and Leroy attended and moved together as if they had all their lives. Leroy obviously adored Yvette. Maggie had centered on Maury and wasn’t looking at other men—a soft, well-loved look replaced her chic, manhunting one.

  While the music played loudly and Mrs. Wilkins took care of the refreshment table, it seemed to be a perfect time for Rose to call Stefan—just to hear that deep drawl, his beautiful accent. Instead when he answered, his tone was weary. She wanted to make him feel better and also to relieve the nagging need to— “Oh, hi. Just thought I’d call to tell you that I love you, too…. And your gifts are far too expensive, but I love them anyway. Bye.”

  There was silence and then the rush of French seemed to be in the swearing mode. “You are there, and I am here, and you would pick such a time to tell me?” he demanded unevenly.

  “Tit for tat, equality and all that,” she said, defending her right to equal what he had said.

  Stefan’s voice was uneven and threaded heavily with his accent. “I wanted to propose to you differently—I wanted to see you alone, but in Waterville there seems to be very little ‘alone.”’

  “It just came to me slowly, no big flashes of thunder or anything. But it’s there, in my heart, and it’s good and strong.”

  Rose listened to the laughter and music coming from the living room. It all seemed very right that she should call Stefan at a time like this—when all the people she loved were enjoying themselves. “Am I on the loudspeaker? I hear other men there. You’re probably in a business meeting. It’s too late for that, Stefan. You need your rest because when you come home—”

  “We speak privately,” Stefan stated huskily. “Proceed with your definition of the activity.”

  “Well, then, I should tell you how much I love you. Maybe a part of me was always waiting for you, my prince. I moved into the bigger bedroom, because I want to remember you with me. How much I want to touch you and feel you close and naked beside me. I want to kiss you—on the lips—have patience with me, because I’m new to this. I want to nibble a bit on your lips and then on your throat and then on your ears—and blow a bit there—”

  Rose blew softly into the telephone for effect and she smiled at the slight hissing of Stefan’s breath as though he were stunned and inhaling sharply. She liked shocking Stefan; he reacted so beautifully. She was woman, feminine, strong and erotic, and leaned back against the kitchen wall to concentrate on her best effort. Rose smiled as she continued to explain how she wanted to love Stefan. “That’s enough,” he said roughly after a time and she knew that nothing was more enjoyable than teasing him.

  In the background, a man asked, “Stefan, are you feeling all right? You look like you might have a fever.”

  “Good night, ma chérie,” Stefan said softly. “I will think of you in your new environment. I will try to accommodate your specifications to my utmost ability at our next meeting.”

  She turned with a smile to replace the telephone and found Mrs. Wilkins fanning herself as she stared at Rose. “Goodness, Rose. I’ll bet you never talked to the other boys like that.”

  Rose grinned, her all-woman feeling at sky-high level. Mrs. Wilkins had been a part of her life forever—she was a dear heart whom Rose trusted. “Nope, never have. I think I might be pretty good at it, too. Stefan had this funny little strangled sound that I’ve never heard before. Oh, he’s so much fun!”

  “That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. You never were really excited about those other boys. You never blossomed and floated on air like you do now. You’ll be married and pregnant before you know it…. And now I think I’ll put a little gin in the punch, drink it and let myself have an old-fashioned good cry…a happy one.”

  “It just came to me so gently, loving Stefan, that I hadn’t realized how much I do love him. I love him so much that I fear nothing, that I know he and I will survive—together. I know the weight of responsibility and Stefan carries such a heavy burden, not exactly of his making. He needs me in a soft way, the way a man needs a woman. I’ve waited all this time for him, just him. He’s very emotional, you know, and he worries too much. Stefan is a dynamic man and I know that waiting for me couldn’t have been easy. I intend to make that up to him.”

  Mrs. Wilkins blinked away the tears in her eyes. “He’s getting a very special person, and he knows it. Um, dear? Does he know you can’t cook?”

  Waterville had waited for the wedding of Rose Granger, and everyone came to the October event. In her faerie garden, Stefan and Rose took their vows beneath their fiery oaks. Stefan was very formal, firmly hiding his excitement, and Rose’s flowing, soft gown was designed by Yvette and Estelle.

  Stefan’s whiskey-brown eyes were too bright, but his hands were firm on hers as he slid his wedding band onto her finger. When her ring was upon his finger, he stared at it as if he couldn’t believe she had placed it there. He spoke unevenly, huskily telling her of his love, and she pledged hers to him without hesitation.

  Their kiss was soft and told of the years to come, of the life they would build together.

  Then Walt loped into the garden and sat between them, looking up expectantly as they were pronounced man and wife. Because Walt knew he had a home with Rose—he always had.

  Black limousines lined the side street, because the front street and yard around Rose’s house was filled with smiling, happy people. They surged toward the bride and groom and the tables piled high with Stefan’s and Danny’s food. Danny’s wedding cake towered above the platters of French cuisine and fried green tomatoes and hamburgers and French fries. After snapshots, Stefan, Yvette and Estelle moved into action. Stefan rolled up his sleeves and began serving in his elaborate, flourished waiter-way, and Rose sat beside Walt, listened to congratulations, and wondered about her wedding night. “The missing ingredient in all this, Walt old buddy, is that Stefan hasn’t made love to me for a very, very long time.”

  Then Stefan paused in serving his petit fours and met her eyes across the garden. The riveting shock was enough to assure her that he wanted her desperately. She decided that was the time to tug up her beautiful feminine gown and slowly, enticingly remove her lace garter.

  While staring hungrily at his new bride, Stefan hadn’t realized that the tray had tipped and the desserts were plopping to the ground. Sensing food, Wal
t hurried to make the best of the day. “We’re leaving,” Stefan announced curtly, and made his way to her. From the narrowed, hot way he was looking at her, Rose knew there wasn’t much time. She threw her bouquet to Maggie, who blushed prettily and leaned against Maury, who tightened his arm around her. As if giving his blessing, Stefan tossed Rose’s garter to Leroy, who promptly tugged it onto his upper arm and grinned at her before he stole a kiss from Yvette.

  Stefan picked up Rose and strode to his pickup with her. When Rose opened the door, Walt hopped in. He sat between them as they drove off, tin cans rattling as the crowd was silent. Some were thinking that she wouldn’t have time for them anymore, not with a new husband and that big new addition he’d just built on to the Smith’s farmhouse. Then, from the hot-eyed look of the hungry groom, she’d probably have that flock of children she deserved and even less time.

  She’d wound through their lives like the multicolored ribbons tied to the faeries and fluttering in the slight breeze. Rose deserved the best possible, and from the look of her groom, she wouldn’t be lacking for love.

  On the other hand, Rose wasn’t going anywhere, except for business trips Stefan had to make to the city. Eventually his daughter would take over some of his burden, and Waterville would still have Rose. And best of all, she would be happy and they’d get to see her life become even richer. Then Henry let out a cheer, holding his glass of champagne high. “Here’s to Rose and her faeries and her prince.”

  “This is quite elaborate, isn’t it?” Rose asked as Stefan closed the wooden barn doors behind them. The huge old barn had sat empty, gray and weathered for years on the far side of the Smith farm. Now it had been cleaned, and in the exact airy center was a very spiffy new camper. Walt trotted around the barn, examining the different smells, while Stefan picked Rose up in his arms and walked determinedly toward the deluxe camper.