She waited patiently, sitting on her side of the bed while he showered, using the time to read her Bible. Minutes later he emerged, his curly hair damp, and wearing the new pajamas. “Shower feel good?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve always loved that big showerhead. Makes a guy feel really clean.”
Is that a faint tinge of aftershave I smell? Did he put that on just for me? “I like that showerhead, too, especially when I rinse my hair,” she added, closing her Bible. “I put a glass of water on your nightstand.”
He glanced toward the glass. “Thanks.”
“I’m not going to bite, Randy,” she told him, giving him a raise of her brow.
“I—I know, I just feel—awkward, that’s all, now that things are—different—between us.”
“I still love you,” she reminded him gently, not wanting to add to his discomfort.
He took a swig of the water, set the glass back in the coaster, and lowered himself onto his side of the bed, keeping his back toward her.
Sylvia quickly scooted across the bed on her knees and cupped her hands on his shoulders. Although he flinched and gave her a what-are-you-doing look, he did not move away. “You’ve been working too hard. Let me rub your shoulders.”
“You don’t have—”
“I know I don’t have to—I want to. Now sit still.” She began gently kneading his deltoid muscles, letting her fingers perform their magic.
“Umm, that feels so good.”
“You’re way too tense, Randy. Come on, relax.”
“I don’t want you to tire yourself.”
“I’ll quit when I get tired. Now let me work those neck muscles.”
He bowed his head low and, oohing and aahing with each stroke, he let her fingertips press into his strong neck.
“I used to do this when we were first married, when you came home from your classes, remember?” she asked, leaning against him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Knowing you’d be waiting for me at the end of a hard day at college, ready to massage my weariness away, was what kept me going those last few hours.”
Finally, he reached up and took hold of her hand. “Stop. That’s enough. As much as I’m enjoying it, I don’t want you to get hand cramps.”
She leaned over his back and planted a kiss on his cheek before scooting back over onto her side of the bed and slipping under the quilt. As he turned to look at her, she flipped back his side of the covers, then turned her back to him. “Good night, Randy.”
She felt the bed move slightly as he crawled in, pulled up the covers, and turned out the light on his nightstand. “Good night, Syl.”
Sylvia arose early the next morning and carefully slipped out from under the covers, leaving Randy sprawled on his side of the bed, tangled up in the sheet and quilt. She had to smile. Parts of his thick hair stood in mounds where he had gone to sleep with it wet from his shower.
She wiggled into the new pair of jeans she had bought and topped them with a bright fuchsia T-shirt, a color she never wore. Most of her life, she had opted for beige, white, or soft pastel colors, never gaudy ones. But this week called for extreme measures, so many of the new things she’d bought were way out of her usual color realm, colors more like what she thought Chatalaine would wear.
Chatalaine.
She was glad Randy had not mentioned that woman’s name. She did not plan to, either. The less he thought about Chatalaine, the better, as far as she was concerned. She had him on her turf now, and she planned to keep him there all week.
After spritzing her newly cut hair and finger combing it as the beautician had shown her, she painstakingly applied her new makeup and added another dash of Randy’s perfume. By the time he arrived in the kitchen, also dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the table had been set and she had breakfast well underway. “Good morning,” she called out cheerily. “I hope you slept well.”
He ran his fingers through the hair at his temples. “Extremely well. I like that mattress. The one I have at the—”
She put a finger to his lips on her way to the refrigerator, silencing him. “We’re not going to talk about your apartment this week,” she said as she pulled the bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge and filled their glasses. “The bacon is ready, and I’ll put the eggs-in-a-basket on a platter as soon as we’ve prayed, so they’ll be good and hot. Would you pour the coffee?”
He moved to the coffeemaker, lifted the pot, and filled their cups. “Umm, that smells good. New jeans?”
She froze. She had bought the faded ones purposely so he would not think they were brand new. “I haven’t had them very long.”
“Nice T-shirt.”
“I’ve decided I like bright colors.”
“Looks good on you.”
Sylvia smiled, then bowed her head and prayed. Though he usually prayed at breakfast, she knew he must feel awkward doing it under the circumstances, and she wanted him to be at ease.
“I thought we’d take a walk after breakfast,” she said lightly as she placed her napkin in her lap.
He picked up his fork with a quizzical look. “Oh? Where to?”
She grinned. “You’ll see.”
“Ah, Syl?”
“Yes?”
“Could—could I have a piece of that pie for breakfast before we leave?”
They finished their breakfast, pulled on their jackets, and headed out the kitchen door and through the garage. Randy seemed surprised when Sylvia stopped and opened her car door.
“I thought you said we were going for a walk.”
She motioned him inside, crawled in herself, and hit the button on the garage door opener. “Too boring to walk around here. I thought we’d walk around the Lakeside Park area. It’s pretty over there.”
He closed the door and buckled his seatbelt. “I haven’t been to that area in years.”
“I know.”
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and there were just enough breezes to make the leaves on the trees sway gently. Sylvia parked the car along the curb, and they set out walking.
“You don’t have your cell phone on your belt,” she said almost jubilantly.
“I didn’t think you wanted me getting any calls.”
She grinned. “I don’t, but I don’t want you to cut yourself off totally, in case there is an emergency at the newspaper.”
“I think things will be all right. That young man I told you about should be able to—”
“You never told me about any young man.”
His pace slowed and his brows rose. “I didn’t?”
“No, you didn’t, but I’m glad you have someone to help you at the paper. You’ve needed a dependable assistant for a long time.”
“I hate turning things over to someone else.”
“I know.”
“Did I tell you Carol broke her arm?”
She stopped walking as her jaw dropped. “No! When did that happen?”
“Yesterday. About noon. I had to take her to the hospital. It happened right after they called and told me one of our big presses went down.”
Guilt hit her like a Mack truck. “Oh, Randy, I’m so sorry to hear that. What a day you must’ve had. Is she okay? Did you get the presses rolling?”
“I guess she’ll be all right when the swelling goes down. She’ll be off at least until after New Year’s, but she still won’t be able to type when she comes back. I’ll have to hire a temp to help her. And no, the presses were still down when I left the office, but two guys from the company that sold it to us are flying down from Cincinnati to help get it back in operation.” He took a few more steps, then turned to her again. “I guess I didn’t tell you two of my key men in the newsroom quit this week. They got jobs with the State Department. They gave them much better benefits than I could offer. I don’t blame them, but it sure left me high and dry. They were good men.”
Her eyes widened. “No, you didn’t tell me about them. Oh, Randy, I had no idea how hard it was for you to take
this entire week off. If you need to call the office—”
He placed his hand on her arm. “No, they aren’t expecting a call from me. I’ve told everyone not to call me, short of a real emergency. I’ve put the newspaper first in my life for way too long. From now on, I’m looking out for Number One. Me. I’m going to do the things I’ve always wanted to and never had the time or the money.”
Like buy a motorcycle and wear gold chains around your neck?
“I may even take up golf, or fishing, maybe even hunting. I haven’t decided yet. I might even do some traveling.”
Alone? Please don’t tell me you plan to take Chatalaine with you!
“I’ve even considering taking flying lessons; maybe buy myself a small plane.”
“My, you do have plans. I hadn’t realized you were interested in any of those things.”
“Most of them were only pipe dreams—things I wanted to do when I retired, but too many men I know—guys my age—have been dropping like flies. Never even making it into their sixties. I don’t want to be one of them.”
Is that what this is all about? Your mortality?
“My dad died just a few months before his sixtieth birthday, his dad in his late fifties. I want to do things while I’m in good enough health to enjoy them, and I figure now’s as good a time as any. From what my older acquaintances tell me, it ain’t gonna get any better.”
You are in a midlife crisis! “But your grandfather on your mother’s side is still alive, and he’s in his eighties!” she countered. “That’s in your favor.”
“But my body is much more like my father’s side of the family.”
Sylvia grabbed his hand and tugged him toward a nearby park bench. She sat and pulled him down beside her. “No one is invincible, Randy. Only God knows when He’s going to call us home.”
Randy ignored her comment as he looked around, taking in the park, the chip-lined walking path, and the park bench itself. “Hey, this is all beginning to look very familiar,” he said, eyeing her with a laugh. “We didn’t just happen to stumble onto this particular bench, did we?”
Her heart rose like a kite caught in an updraft. “You remembered!”
“I proposed to you in this very spot nearly twenty-six years ago.”
“Yes, you did. And I gladly accepted your proposal, Randy. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. That little diamond you placed on my finger that day was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. I’ll never forget how excited I was. I was going to be Mrs. Randy Benson!”
“Boy, were we naive. A couple of kids who had no idea what we were doing or what the future held for us.”
She cupped her hand on his shoulder and smiled into his deep blue eyes. “A couple of kids in love who were willing to face anything to be together.”
“Your parents weren’t too happy when they saw that ring on your finger as I recall.”
“No, they much preferred that I attend college and get a degree in nursing, but marrying you was all I wanted out of life. Once they realized that, they accepted it.” She scooted a tad closer to him. “Our life and our marriage may not have been perfect, but I never wanted it to end.”
He stood quickly and glanced at his watch. “Hey, it’s nearly noon. I’m hungry; how about you?”
“Sounds good to me, and I know just the place to have lunch.”
She took his hand and led him across the street and down two blocks, to the little all-night diner where they used to eat hotdogs when they could afford to splurge and eat out.
Randy opened the door and stood back to allow her entrance. “Boy, I didn’t even know this place was still in business.”
“Then you do remember coming here?”
He nodded, stepping inside. “Yeah, I remember. You were pregnant with Buck, and you continually seemed to have a craving for foot-long hotdogs with pickle relish and loads of mustard. I wonder if they still have them on their menu.”
They crowded into the only booth that was available, a small single-sided bench in the far corner.
“Yep, they’re still on the menu! You up to it?” Randy asked when the waitress brought their water glasses.
Sylvia smiled back at him. “You bet!”
They giggled through lunch like two junior high kids, consuming their hotdogs and even ordering chocolate shakes to go with them.
“I’m stuffed,” Randy said on their way back to where they had parked the car. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop when I ordered that second hotdog?”
“Would you have listened?” she answered, slipping her hand into his as they walked along.
He gave it a slight squeeze, but did not pull away. “Probably not!”
When they reached the car, Sylvia handed Randy her keys. “You drive.”
He opened her door and waited until she was safely inside before jogging around to the driver’s side. “Where to, lady?”
She could not hold back a smile. “How about our home?”
When they reached the house, the answering machine was blinking. Sylvia rushed to it and punched the button. A man from a florist shop was calling, and he sounded very much like the man who had called before, about the apricot roses. “Just wanted you to know, Mr. Benson, the lady loved the red roses. She said to tell you they were so beautiful they made her cry!”
Sylvia’s blood ran cold. Randy may not have mentioned Chatalaine’s name, but he was making sure she received flowers from him while he was away from her.
“Wow, am I ever glad to hear that,” Randy said, moving up beside her. “I wanted those flowers to get to her as soon as possible. She needed to know someone cared about her.”
Sylvia wanted to reach out and slap him. Hard. How dare he? When he had promised the week was to be hers?
“Poor Carol. I know she’s hurting. No one ever sends her flowers. I hope those roses make her feel better.”
Carol? He sent those flowers to Carol? Of course, he did! She’s been his secretary for years. Sylvia nibbled on her lower lip, glad she had not blurted out something she would have regretted later. Feeling riddled with guilt, she picked up the phone and held it out to him. “You want to call the office? See how things are going?”
He took it from her and placed it back in its cradle. “I’m sure things are fine.” He looked about the room, his gaze fixing on the Venetian blind. “While I’m here, you want me to fix that window blind? I know it’s been driving you crazy. I’m—I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to repairing it for you.”
She nodded, grateful for his offer. The blind had been driving her nuts. Something in the mechanism was broken, and she had not been able to lower it to block out the late afternoon sun. “If you’re sure you want to.”
“Looks like I’ve got the time,” he said with a grin, heading toward the garage, where he kept his tools.
She watched from her place on the sofa as he unfolded the stepladder and strapped on his tool belt, amazed at how handsome he was. Women age. Men mature. Where had she heard that silly saying? But it was true. Randy had matured, and on him, it looked good. No wonder that society columnist had gone after him.
“There you go. Good as new!” Randy crawled down and folded the ladder. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Sylvia quickly moved to the window and gave a slight tug on the cords. As smooth as glass, the shade lowered into place. “Hey, thanks, that’s great. Now the sofa won’t fade.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just sorry I haven’t done it before now. Got anything else that needs to be fixed?”
“The drain thingy in the lavatory in the half-bath off the kitchen won’t lock down.”
He gave her a mock salute before heading toward the little bathroom. “Tool-time Randy and his trusty tool belt are on their way!”
In ten minutes, he was back. “Why don’t I check that filter in the furnace while I’m at it?”
For the rest of the afternoon, Randy made the rounds of each room in the house, replacing lightbulbs, tightening screws, checking ca
binet hinges and knobs, all sorts of manly me-fix-it projects. What impressed Sylvia most was the joy he seemed to get out of doing those things, the very things she had been at him for months to take care of.
By the time he finished, she had supper on the table.
“I knew it!” he said, coming into the kitchen after a quick shower. “Broccoli soup with garlic toast! I could smell it clear up in our bedroom!”
“I was hoping you’d be pleased.” She checked the pot on the stove one more time and made sure the soup was not sticking to the bottom of the pan. “It’s ready.”
Randy rubbed his hands together. “Umm. Let me at it.”
“You’re not too full from those two hotdogs?”
He grinned. “What hotdogs?”
Again, Randy helped her clear the table and load the dishwasher when they had finished supper. Sylvia could not believe he had actually eaten two big bowls full of the broccoli soup and consumed four pieces of toast.
“What now?” he asked as they turned off the kitchen light and headed for the family room.
“I thought we’d watch a movie.”
He wrinkled up his face. “Not a chick flick.”
He headed for his recliner. She shook her head and pointed to the empty spot beside her on the green leather sofa. “Not there. Here.”
He gave her a shy grin and settled himself down beside her while she punched the Play button on the remote control.
The tape began to roll, and Randy leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Naw, it can’t be! An action movie? Surely not!”
Sylvia quirked a smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen this one!”
He leaned back with a satisfied look. “Nope. I didn’t even know it had been released to the video stores yet. I’ve been wanting to see it but—”
She rolled her eyes. “I know—you’ve been too busy.”
“Exactly. But no more. From now on—I’m going to—”
Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 41