The Only Man for Her

by Kristi Gold

  Rachel closed the truck door and tried on a fake smile. “Hello, Rita.”

  “Sugar, you look so good! It took me over a year to get my figure back after I gave birth to Lila. Actually, I never really did.” She barked out a laugh, then leaned around Rachel and stared into the truck. “Does that handsome husband of yours have the baby with him?”

  “Well, no—”

  “That’s okay if you left it at home. Couples need their time alone together. Was it a boy or girl? What did you name it? I bet it’s a pretty thing, whatever—”

  “The baby died,” Rachel blurted out in order to end the woman’s diatribe.

  Rita laid a plump hand over her equally plump breasts. “Oh, no! What happened?”

  She did not want to get into a lengthy explanation of everything that had gone wrong during Caleb’s birth. “He was premature.”

  “That is such a shame, sugar. But you know, sometimes nature has a way of taking care of these things. A blessing in disguise, really.”

  The spurt of anger took Rachel by surprise. She tamped it down through sheer willpower alone. “I’m so sorry, Rita, but Matt’s waiting on me. It was good to see you.” Not.

  Rita hugged her so hard, she feared for her rib cage. “Chin up, sugar. I’m sure the next baby will be perfectly fine. Say hello to Matt and I hope I see you again real soon.”

  “Same here.” If a sudden storm blew in, she’d surely suffer a lightning strike right there on the asphalt.

  Rachel couldn’t get into the truck fast enough. Although Rita had meant well, Rachel never understood how anyone could believe losing a baby was a blessing and be so thoughtless as to actually voice that opinion.

  She could definitely use a sympathetic ear, a leaning shoulder, and she knew exactly where she could find one. With that in mind, she continued down the road a bit and pulled into the familiar drive. The white-and-yellow cottage-style house was a direct contrast to the rough-hewn cabins dotting the mountainside community. But Rachel had always found the place to be absolutely charming and completely fitting for a Southern gentlewoman like Helen Van Alsteen.

  Before she could ring the bell, the door opened to a smiling woman, her silver hair streaked with copper highlights and her green eyes still as vibrant as they’d been almost fourteen years ago. She stepped onto the porch and opened her arms wide. “Rachel Boyd, it does my soul good to see you!”

  She accepted Helen’s hug and returned her smile. “It’s great to see you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t call first, so if you’re too busy—”

  “I’m never too busy for you. Come in and sit a spell.”

  Rachel followed Helen into the parlor filled with pristine antique furniture and knickknacks galore. She joined her on the pink floral settee where they’d had many a conversation. “First of all, thank you so much for getting the cabin ready and for the food you left in the fridge. You saved our lives last night.”

  Helen laid a careworn hand on her throat. “Oh, heavens, child. I doubt that. I would have brought you a casserole, but that might have cost you your life, since I’m such a terrible cook.”

  How could she put this gently? “You’re not that bad, Helen.”

  “And you’re too kind, dear. Jack will attest to that, poor man. It’s a good thing he’s never objected to dining out.”

  Rachel centered her gaze on the weathered brown recliner, Jack Van Alsteen’s favorite place to sit. “Speaking of the judge, where is he?”

  Helen looked strangely uneasy over the question. “He’s napping.”

  “Is he feeling okay?”

  “He’s fine, dear. Would you like some coffee and a muffin?”

  She almost declined until she realized she hadn’t had breakfast. “That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble. Do you have decaf?”

  Helen rose from the small sofa. “That’s all I drink these days, and it’s no trouble at all. The muffins are store-bought, which is a good thing. Two sugars and cream, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Rachel thought back to Helen’s note and worried she wasn’t being forthcoming about Jack’s health. She’d never known the retired judge to be idle during the day, much less take a nap in the morning. Then again, he was in his late seventies, so she could be reading too much into it.

  After a few minutes, Helen returned with a tray that she set on the coffee table. She handed Rachel one delicate gold-rimmed cup and gestured toward the plateful of muffins. “Help yourself.”

  “I’ll have one in a minute,” Rachel said when she realized they were poppy seed, one of her least favorite.

  Helen picked up her cup and took a sip before setting it back on the tray. “Now, tell me how you’ve been holding up since you lost your little angel,” she said, both her tone and expression reflecting sincere sympathy.

  She hadn’t spoken to Helen since Caleb’s birth, which left only one possible scenario. “Did Rita call you?”

  Helen looked as if she’d just consumed a bottle of brine. “Heavens, no, honey. I avoid that woman like the plague.”

  “I wish I could have avoided her. She waylaid me in the parking lot, then proceeded to tell me that losing Caleb was some sort of blessing in disguise.”

  Helen looked thoroughly disgusted. “Rita’s mouth travels at the speed of light, while her brain runs at a snail’s pace. I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

  Now that Rita had been ruled out, Rachel could think of only one other person who might have delivered the information. “Did Matt tell you about the baby?”

  “Yes, when he called me yesterday to say you were coming in for the weekend. And, honey, I’m so very, very sorry. I know from personal experience how difficult it is to go through that.”

  Rachel was totally taken aback by the admission. “You do?”

  Helen took another sip of coffee and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I had a miscarriage a year before J.W. was born. I was only three months along and it was devastating. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it would be to lose a baby so late in the pregnancy.”

  “It’s been the most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with.” Aside from her estrangement from Matt. “How did you cope?”

  “One day at a time,” she said. “But even after forty-six years, I still find myself wondering about that child. In my mind the baby was a girl. I would have named her Hannah, after my grandmother, and I’ve always imagined she would have grown up to be an attorney, like her father. Of course, she would’ve had it all—marriage, career and children. Silly in some ways, I suppose, but that’s how I’ve kept her alive in my heart without having the grief consume my life.”

  Rachel set her coffee down without taking a drink. “I haven’t really let myself think about Caleb in that way. If I did, I’m afraid I would never get over losing him.”

  Helen patted her cheek. “Give yourself time, honey. The pain will lessen eventually, even if it never entirely goes away. But you’re a strong woman, and there will be other babies.”

  In about eight months, she wanted to say but chose to withhold the information. She didn’t feel right telling anyone else before she told Matt—the reason she hadn’t called Jess and Savannah to confirm the pregnancy.

  A subject change was definitely in order. She could use some marital advice. Who better to ask than a woman who’d been blissfully married to the same man for fifty years? “Things haven’t been good between Matt and me. In fact, we’ve been separated for over a month.”

  “Oh, dear. That breaks my heart.”

  The disappointment in Helen’s voice broke Rachel’s heart, too. “I never wanted this to happen, but our problems seem insurmountable at times.”

  Helen’s expression brightened. “Well, you’re here together now, so I assume that means all hope is not lost. And if you still love each other, no problem is too big to overcome.”

  “I do still love him, Helen. But everything just fell apart between us after Caleb d
ied.”

  “Sadly, in some instances a tragedy highlights troubles in a marriage that we tend to ignore during the good times. Even insignificant issues are magnified by grief. It’s also human nature to want to blame someone, even ourselves.”

  She questioned whether Helen had hit on something she hadn’t considered before. Maybe Matt did blame himself or perhaps her. “Matt seems to want to avoid any conflict altogether by burying himself in work.” And a bottle, a fact she preferred not to reveal.

  Helen sighed. “Honey, I’ve learned a thing or two about men through the years. Most are simple creatures with simple needs. Give them a full belly, cable TV, a wife who’s an angel during the day and a—pardon my crudeness—whore in bed, and they’re happy. They don’t like to talk about feelings unless you ask them how they feel about their favorite football team’s chances at a championship.”

  She laughed in spite of her shock. “You’re so right about that.”

  “They also have short memories,” Helen added. “The things that drive us batty are lost on our spouses because, well, frankly, they can also be completely oblivious unless you draw them a picture. It’s important to bring those things to light and be done with them. You’ll feel much better and your husband will be enlightened. He can’t change if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.”

  She wasn’t certain she agreed with that plan. “Won’t that only create more friction between us?”

  Helen took Rachel’s hands into hers. “Problems are like blisters. They continue to fester until they’re ready to burst. It’s better to let them burst rather than become infected with resentment. It’s the only way to heal your relationship.”

  That did make some sense. “Okay, let’s just say I lay everything out in the open and tell Matt all the aspects of our marriage that I’m not happy with. What if he doesn’t reciprocate?”

  “That’s possible, but you can’t force him. And he just might surprise you. Men can also be very unpredictable.”

  She leaned over and gave Helen a hug. “I knew I could count on you for good advice. You truly are the mother I never had.”

  Helen looked as though Rachel had handed her the key to paradise. “I’m honored you would say that, sweetie. That makes you the daughter I never had.”

  Rachel grinned. “Does that mean I can borrow your nice wool jacket?”

  “Why, of course. As long as I can borrow those four-inch black heels and some bunion pads to go with them.”

  They shared in a laugh and another hug and a little lighter catch-up conversation before Rachel glanced at her watch. “I really need to go. I’m sure Matt’s wondering where I am.” She was more than ready to follow Helen’s advice and commence with the blister bursting.

  Helen gestured toward the tray. “But you didn’t have a muffin.”

  “I’ll take one to go,” she said in an effort to be polite. “And give Jack my love when he’s through napping.”

  Helen wrapped a muffin in a napkin and handed it to Rachel. “You can tell him yourself down at the community center tonight. It’s Saturday and all the old fogies will be there, including us. We could use your youth to liven up the place.”

  The impending conversation with her husband would determine whether they attended the customary event. “We’ll be there if we can.”

  Helen’s expression went suddenly somber. “Before you go, I have one more piece of marital advice.”

  “I’d welcome any help you can give me.” And she truly would.

  “When you wake in the morning,” she began, “imagine what life would be like if that space beside you became permanently empty. It makes you appreciate what you have in Matthew and what you stand to lose.”

  In all the years she’d known Helen, she’d never seen anything but joy in her eyes. The tears that began to form told her something was very, very wrong. “Helen, is there something wrong with Jack?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid there is.”

  Exactly what she’d suspected. “What is it?” she asked, even though she dreaded the answer.

  “He has Alzheimer’s.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN THE TRUCK CAME into view, Matt stopped what he was doing in order to greet his wife. He thought about telling her about his dad’s current situation, but he decided to hold off on that for now. He wanted to avoid any extra conflict at all costs, particularly since they’d begun to bridge the gap between them.

  Rachel shut off the truck and got out, two canvas bags clutched in her arms. “Need any help?” he called to her as she started up the stone walkway.

  “No.” She glanced at the porch plank he’d just secured. “It’s about time you fixed that.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” he muttered as she brushed past him and went inside.

  Matt tossed the hammer into the toolbox and walked into the house to find Rachel putting away groceries with a vengeance. She was definitely in a foul mood and he wondered what he’d done now. He figured he’d find out soon enough.

  When she continued to ignore him, he took a seat on the bar stool at the island and braced for a probable tongue-lashing. “What’s wrong, Rachel?”

  “Why don’t we own a dog?” she asked as she shoved a box of microwave popcorn into the pantry.

  That was the strangest question he’d heard coming out of her mouth in a long time. Now to come up with an answer that suited her. Or a nonanswer. “Beg your pardon?”

  She slammed the pantry door and leaned back against it. “You’re a vet, Matt. You’re supposed to like pets. After Buddy died, you never even suggested we get another dog. It’s been three years.”

  She’d resented that he’d put the Lab mix down, but she hadn’t seemed that fond of the dog. “Best I recall, you never mentioned you wanted another one. I do remember you complained a lot about Buddy’s chewing habit.”

  She glared at him. “No, I didn’t like his chewing, but I loved him. I cried for days after you put him out of his misery. I think that’s what you called it.”

  Here we go again. “He was suffering, Rachel. His joints were shot and he could barely walk. Not to mention his kidneys were starting to fail.”

  She took a head of lettuce and a tomato out of the bag and set them on the counter. “If my joints were shot, would you put me out of my misery?”

  He wished she’d put him out of his misery and tell him what was bugging her. “That’s a pretty weird question.”

  She nailed him with a glare. “So now I’m weird?”

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “So sorry I don’t act the way you think I should act.” She yanked open the refrigerator, pulled the crisper drawer out and tossed the produce inside.

  He’d hate to be that head of lettuce about now. “Did something happen while you were gone that ticked you off?”

  She turned around and began folding one of the bags with precise creases. “I’m just tired of festering.”

  She made no sense whatsoever. “Festering?”

  She put the folded sack aside and grabbed the other, which she clutched in both hands as if she wanted to rip it in half. “Yes, festering. I’ve been holding in all the little things that have been bothering me for years. I feel the need to do some soul cleansing.”

  If he ever needed a beer, now would be the time. But that would be like adding kerosene to the campfire. He’d just have to suck it up and let her have her say. “Go ahead and cleanse. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She tossed the sack aside, picked up a can and slammed it into one cabinet before facing him again. “First, I don’t appreciate the fact you won’t wear a wedding band.”

  No surprise she’d bring that one up. “We’ve been through this before, Rachel. I can’t wear a ring while I work.”

  “And for some reason, you can’t wear one when you’re not working.”

  He recognized a battle he couldn’t win when he saw it. “Fine. I’ll buy one and wear it, if that makes you happy.”

  She propped a hand on her hip.
“Do you know what would really make me happy? If you finally accepted that you can’t fix anything with bandage sex.”

  Okay, he’d bite. “Bandage sex?”

  “Yes. For some reason you believe that sex is the answer to everything that’s wrong with us. If I even try to be serious, you bring out that whole ‘come here, baby, take off your clothes and let me take you to paradise’ thing.”

  Never in his life had he ever used the word paradise in that context. “Hell, if I really sound like that, no wonder you won’t come near me.”

  She started terrorizing the groceries again, this time targeting a white paper-wrapped package that she tossed into the freezer. “Oh, and let’s not forget your need to put away my shoes. It drives me absolutely insane.”

  This whole conversation was driving him insane. Certifiably. “Excuse me for trying to help out.”

  “I don’t see it that way. In fact, the day I moved out, I hadn’t even considered leaving you until I went into the bathroom to get my slippers and you’d stuck them in the closet.”

  The second strangest thing to leave her mouth. Or was it the third? “You left me because of your shoes?”

  She looked at him as if he could use a padded room. “That wasn’t the only reason, just the last straw. I should be able to put my shoes anywhere I please, even if it’s on the roof.”

  “Even if I almost break my neck tripping over them?”

  “Again, you exaggerate.”

  Not by much. “Okay. I promise never to touch your shoes again.”

  “Fine. And in case you’re interested, which you’re probably not, I did give up a dream for you.”

  That really threw him for a loop. “You said last night—”

  “I know what I said, but I didn’t want to admit exactly how much I gave up for you. I wanted to go back to school and get an MBA.”