The Bachelor Takes a Wife

by Jackie Merritt

  “You haven’t,” she said, sounding totally deflated. “Tell me you haven’t been doing that.”

  “Do you want me to lie?” He held out his hand to help her from the car. “Take me inside. Give me a glass of tea or a soda and talk to me. Treat me like an old friend, for that’s what I am, Andy, what I’ll always be no matter how determinedly you fight it.”

  Andrea looked at that hand, his hand, and knew that if she took it and invited him in for a soda and conversation that she would be making a grave mistake. He was stronger-willed than she was, and gradually he was wearing her down.

  But then she raised her eyes to gaze into his, and she felt sixteen again, about the time in her teen years when he had changed from her best buddy to the center of her universe. She knew now, of course, that he’d done nothing to cause her such a drastic change of heart. To him she’d still been best “bud” and the girl next door.

  Looking into his gloriously alive brown eyes, every memory she possessed about him went sailing through her brain, leaving behind a star-sprinkled trail of emotions she had thought were dead and buried.

  Apparently not. She reached out and took his hand. “I’ll fix some lunch for both of us,” she said with a catch in her voice, knowing he’d won, that he’d negated her every objection and beaten her.

  She could only hope now that he wouldn’t make a pass because she’d never been so unsure of herself before. At least, not in a very long time.

  Five

  Keith liked Andrea’s home the second he stepped inside. “It’s nice, Andrea. Warm, very pleasant.”

  “Thank you. Look around, if you wish. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  When he strolled away she physically wilted against the refrigerator. It didn’t seem possible that Keith was actually there, in her house. And not for a social gathering of friends and acquaintances, but alone, by himself!

  Andrea quietly groaned. Her heart seemed to be fluttering nervously, as were her stomach and hands. Why had she let herself be drawn into this situation? She could have stood her ground in the garage and told him to leave her property at once. But no, she’d caved in and invited him to lunch!

  Lunch. What on earth was she going to feed him? Quickly she turned and opened the door of the refrigerator. Scanning the shelves, she added up what she had on hand. Fine, she thought, and went to the sink to wash her hands. Returning to the refrigerator, she began taking out ingredients.

  Keith came back while she was setting the table. They would eat in the kitchen’s dining nook rather than in her formal dining room. Not that she wanted things cozy between them, but a spur-of-the-moment luncheon should be casually prepared and served.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  “Everything’s taken care of.” Andrea walked from the nook to the counter, where she began putting the finishing touches to a bowl of chicken salad. “Have a seat,” she said without looking at him.

  Keith wandered over to the counter with its three stools and sat on one. “Do you remember when we were kids and you would go into your house, make a pile of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bring them outside to our fort?”

  “Along with as many cartons of juice I could carry.”

  “You haven’t forgotten our fort, then.”

  “Of course not. It was a big part of my childhood.”

  “Mine, too. One day it would be a spaceship and the next a rustler’s hideout. We had great imaginations back then, Andy.”

  “Most children do.” She wanted to ask him to please stick with her given name, and not to shorten it or alter it, but she refrained from doing so.

  “Too bad we all have to grow up,” Keith murmured. “It happens so fast.”

  “When childhood is thirty years ago, it seems that it flew by much too quickly. We never truly enjoy each and every phase of life until it’s gone. I let my teens and then my twenties rush by without ever stopping my hectic pace long enough to relish any one particular age.”

  “I know what you mean. Now we’re both eight years into our thirties. Are you still letting a hectic pace rule your heart?”

  Andrea felt her cheeks turn pink. She’d said nothing at all about her heart, and she was not going to be led down that path!

  “Are you?” she asked, throwing him a challenging glance.

  Keith smiled teasingly. “I asked you first.”

  “You used to pull that on me when we were kids, if I remember correctly,” she said and gave her chicken salad a final stir. “Lunch is ready,” she announced. “Please bring that pitcher of iced tea to the table.”

  When they were seated and eating, Keith began another conversation. “Do you ever feel old?”

  Startled, Andrea lowered her fork. “I’m not sure that’s a question I care to answer.”

  “You don’t look much older than you did in college, you know, but you could dress younger.”

  “And what’s wrong with this dress?” It was a pretty dress, pink cotton with white trim.

  “Its style is too old for you.”

  “Good Lord, Keith, I’m a teacher! Should I wear short skirts and halter tops to teach youngsters?”

  “I guess not, but do you even own a short skirt and a halter top?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she grumbled. “Look, you worry about your wardrobe and I’ll worry about mine.”

  “Sorry. Obviously I hit a nerve.”

  “You have no right even to comment on my clothing, let alone judge and censure it.”

  “Don’t get all steamed up. You always look nice, whatever you’re wearing.”

  “Then why say something as rude as that remark about my dressing younger?”

  “I apologize again. You looked great at the ball.”

  “Young enough for your juvenile taste?” she drawled.

  “You’re all fired up and sarcastic. I take it back, okay? Anything I said that might have annoyed you, I take it back.”

  “You should.”

  “I do, but it wouldn’t hurt you to answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “Do you ever feel old? I guess I’m asking because every so often I feel older than my dad was when he passed away. He was sixty. Mother was sixty-two when she died.”

  “About the same ages as my parents were when they died,” Andrea said quietly. “They all died too young. I have friends well into their seventies and eighties who are active and great fun to be with. Of course, they’re in reasonably good health, which makes a major difference, but I also think a sense of humor helps to keep people young.”

  “Could be. You used to have a great sense of humor.”

  “Meaning I don’t now?”

  “Now don’t go getting all puffed up again. All I said was…”

  “I know what you said.”

  “Well, how would I know if you still love to laugh when we rarely see each other? Andrea, when you really think about it, isn’t it silly for you and I to be anything but the closest of friends?”

  Instantly wary, Andrea covered her fluster by picking up the pitcher of tea and refilling their glasses. She had to say something, give him some kind of reply, but what?

  She finally said, rather stiffly, “It’s not so silly, Keith. We didn’t part on the best of terms, you know.”

  “But that was a hundred years ago! Andy, I have so many feelings for you. What should I do with them?”

  “They’re all old feelings, Keith, part of the past! Leave them there.”

  “Sometimes old things are the best. Can new friends really replace old ones? I don’t think so. Andy, I’m lonely.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Now, that’s a lie!”

  “No, sweetheart, it isn’t. Yes, I have friends, lots of them, and I’ve got money and community respect. But there’s a hole right about here…” He laid his hand on his abdomen. “…that I can’t seem to fill.”

  “Have some more chicken salad,” she said dryly, giving him a glib an
swer. What a con artist!

  Keith couldn’t help laughing. “Well, I can see that your sense of humor is still alive and thriving. That’s good.” After a few silent moments he said, “But I wasn’t lying about being lonely.”

  “Maybe not, but why tell me about it? Every adult in the world who lives alone probably has moments of loneliness. It’s hardly a fatal affliction.”

  “You’re thinking that I’m looking for sympathy.”

  “You are,” she said flatly. “But you’re looking in the wrong place, and from the wrong person.”

  “I never dreamed you could be so cold.”

  “If a realistic take on life translates to a cold attitude to you, there’s not much I can do about it.”

  “You’re not cold with the kids in your class.” Keith put his elbows on the table and leaned forward to look directly into her eyes. “You’re magnificent with those children, and it’s obvious as anything I’ve ever seen that they adore you. You love them, don’t you? You pour all your emotion like a stream of liquid gold into that one glorious outlet, and you can do it day after day, month after month because it’s safe. There’s not a sliver of danger from loving children, is there? Nothing at all like what can happen if you let yourself love a grown-up.”

  Andrea refused to look away from the smug expression on his face. In a way it amused her that he actually believed that he’d figured her out so easily, but there was a grain of truth in his analysis. The “safety” factor he’d mentioned wasn’t entirely incorrect, but neither was it accurate. Should she set him straight on that or let him wallow in his misconceptions?

  “If you’re expecting me to debate with you over my affection for young children, you’re going to be sadly disappointed.”

  “Then everything I said must be true.”

  Andrea shrugged. “Think so if you wish. I don’t owe you anything, Keith, least of all an explanation of why I behave as I do. The truth is, I don’t owe anything to anyone and I like it that way.”

  Keith narrowed his eyes on her. “In other words, you’re never lonely.”

  “We’re back to that? Sorry, but that bait still isn’t going to work.”

  “Bait?”

  “You’re fishing, Keith. What you’re hoping to unearth from deep within my psyche is beyond me, but you’ve got something in mind.”

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded her solemnly. “I already explained it. I want us to be friends.”

  She was suddenly furious. “Kissing friends?” she spat. “We might have stood a chance if you hadn’t made that insulting pass the night of the ball. What did you think I was going to do, fall into your arms like some…some sex-starved tart?”

  “It was only a kiss, Andy. You really didn’t hate it that much, did you?”

  “It was a shock that I hope will never be repeated.” Pushing back her chair, Andrea got up and began clearing the table.

  Keith rose to help. Carrying dishes, cutlery and leftover food they passed each other twice before everything was on the counter and Andrea could wipe down the table. Andrea’s mind wished Keith would say “Thanks, goodbye,” and leave, but there was a different tune playing elsewhere in her body. She didn’t want the feelings there, she hated the tingles and flutterings of her own female system caused by a man that intellectually she wanted no part of.

  Such feelings were confusing her to the point that she wasn’t sure of what to do next. Considering her “marvelous hostess” reputation, she was behaving out of character. Her friends would not have recognized the woman she was today, for none of them had ever seen this uncertain side of her. Keith had. She hadn’t always been resolute and confident. She’d been soft in her youth, starry-eyed over anything that smacked of romance. She’d seen love where there’d been none. The partnership Keith had been thinking about had been all business. She might as well have been his cousin.

  Why didn’t he leave? He’d had his lunch and his say, and it was all he was going to get from her. Should she come right out and ask him to leave?

  She tried to ignore his watchful gaze as she rinsed the lunch dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “Did you see the backyard?” she asked, striving for a casualness she was far from feeling.

  “Only through the windows. Your yard is beautiful.”

  “I designed it.”

  “The pool, too?”

  “All of it. When I bought this house it was extremely plain. It had this great floor plan and it was exactly the size home I was looking for, but the former owners had done very little to it in the way of interior décor and exterior landscaping. The entire yard was grass and a few trees, and since I intended to live my life here, I wanted everything perfect. Perfect for me, that is.”

  “You did a good job.”

  “I think so. I’m sure the whole house would fit in the foyer of yours, but…”

  “Totally irrelevant,” Keith said before she’d finished speaking. “Why didn’t you stay in the house that you lived in during your marriage?”

  Andrea stiffened. “I didn’t want to,” she said sharply.

  “That’s no answer. Your leaving that house for this one makes me wonder: you didn’t love Jerry O’Rourke, did you?”

  She gasped out loud and swung around to face him. “I most certainly did love Jerry! What gives you the right to even mention my marriage? I had a good marriage and I was happy. I will never get over losing Jerry.”

  “If that’s all true, then I owe you an apology. Thing is, Andy darlin’, it sounds more like a fairy tale than the truth.”

  “Why?” she demanded angrily. “Because your marriage was such a bust?”

  “Maybe,” he said, sounding speculative. “One question springs to mind, doesn’t it? Am I petty enough to doubt your happy marriage because mine wasn’t?”

  “And how could the great Keith Owens ever acknowledge something so human as pettiness, right?”

  “Well, the idea does sort of pinch,” he replied with a grin.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I’ve heard that before, so you could be right.”

  Andrea closed the door of the dishwasher, rinsed her hands at the sink and dried them with a paper towel.

  “You’re the only man I know who’s proud of his faults,” she said with a scorching look at him.

  “You’re beautiful when your fire’s up and burning,” he told her.

  “Nothing’s burning. Nothing’s even warm, so don’t waste your breath, Keith.” She realized that he’d taken two steps toward her, and she backed up. “If you try anything I swear I’ll brain you with a skillet!”

  “No, you won’t.” He advanced farther, and she found her backside against the counter. “Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he said in a low, husky voice that alarmed her more than his proximity.

  “This is the reason you followed me home, isn’t it?” she said accusingly. “Not to reestablish friendship but to make another pass. Well, maybe we should just go to bed and get it over with. Once should be enough, don’t you think?”

  He was so stunned he couldn’t say a word for a very long moment. Finally he cleared his throat and managed a hoarse, “You never used to talk like that.”

  “I could talk plainer,” she snapped. “You’re not irresistible, Keith. I live alone because I want to. I do not want another man, another husband. I’m without a man by choice! Do you get my drift? If I’ve been too subtle, say so and I’ll draw you a picture!”

  Keith held up his hands in total surrender. “You win. I won’t try to kiss you again, though I’d like you to remember that kissing you and making love to you are the uppermost thoughts in my mind every time I’m near you.”

  Andrea stared. “You’re planning to be near me again?”

  “Every chance I get, darlin’, every chance I get. Thank you for lunch and I enjoyed our conversation, before I went and ruined everything by behaving like a man who admires a woman more than he can express in mere words. That’s when the need for kissing and
all that other stuff overwhelms one’s good sense. I won’t be at the preschool tomorrow because I have a meeting, but I will be seeing you again very soon.”

  He walked out of Andrea’s kitchen, whistling a merry tune. She stared after him like a sleepwalker, dazed both in eye and spirit. No matter how she treated him, no matter what she said or did, he always seemed to get the last word. How could he always stay one step ahead of her?

  But the worst, most painful, question to ponder was why she had relented so drastically and actually invited him into her home. Something told her there was no eradicating what she’d done today. He had a foothold now, and she’d given it to him!

  “My God, why?” she whispered.

  The rest of the day was a bust for Andrea. There were a dozen things she could—and probably should—have done, but she couldn’t seem to get herself together enough to accomplish anything constructive. After Keith left she had donned yard clothes and forced herself outside to search the beds of flowers for weeds. The man she employed for yard work did an excellent job, and he didn’t need her to keep the flowers and grass free of weeds.

  And so she sat in the shade on the patio, gazed upon her beautiful backyard and brooded over Keith. It was awful to feel so helpless about something, for she wasn’t helpless. Not ordinarily, anyway. But this…this invasion of her privacy, of her personal life, had her frustrated and stymied.

  Hoping to relieve her mind of anything remotely connected to Keith, she deliberately thought of the people she paid to keep her home in A1 condition. There was Lucyanne, the lady who came to the house once a week and made the whole place shine and smell good from aromatic cleaning products and elbow grease. Hector came twice a week to clean the pool and check the chemical balance of the water, and finally there was Jake, whom she rarely saw because he kindly coincided his lawn-mowing with her morning classes at Kiddie Kingdom.

  She had it good and knew it. Or she had known it, believed it with all her heart, but now, watching the sun creating silver streaks in the aquamarine water of her pool, there was a restlessness within her that she couldn’t seem to dent. Well, yes, her loyal household helpers were blessings, and so were her friends and her job and the investments inherited from her parents and from Jerry. Everything she had was a blessing, for there were so many people with so very little in the way of material comfort. She understood that very well, thanked her lucky stars and was more than generous with donations to worthy charities. Plus, of course, she gave more than money to New Hope, she gave some of herself—her time, perhaps the most intrinsically valuable donation of all.