by Arlene James
“Can’t you eat first?”
“I need to get on my way.”
“You need dinner, too.”
“I’ll grab something later.”
“And eat behind the wheel while driving,” she said, frowning with disapproval.
“Nothing I haven’t done many a time,” he replied, checking again to make sure that everything in the bed was lashed down.
“But why do it when you don’t have to?” she pressed.
He heard himself snap, “Stop nagging me, Bethany!” Instantly contrite, he squeezed his eyes shut.
“I just want you to be safe,” she said in a small voice.
Knowing that he’d been unfair, he tried to make amends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You never nag.”
“I would if I thought it would do any good,” she admitted, shocking a bark of laughter out of him.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’ve been doing this on my own for a long time.”
“You’re not on your own anymore, though, Chandler,” she pointed out softly.
“Aren’t I?” he asked, suddenly angry again. “Barely married. That’s what we are, Bethany.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, squinting through the tiny space between them. “Just barely married. We didn’t even speak our vows in church because we knew we didn’t mean them. How’s that not on my own anymore?”
She shifted uncertainly, looking so sadly adorable in that same blue-and-white-flowered sundress in which he’d first seen her that he could have cried.
“What are you saying, Chandler?”
What was he saying? Nothing that he wanted to say. Nothing that he should say. He shook his head. “I’m not saying anything, Bethany. I’m just in a foul mood today, that’s all.”
“Because of the money,” she said morosely.
“Money?”
“For the hospital.”
He hadn’t thought of that at all. In fact, he hadn’t been able to think of much of anything lately except her.
“No,” he said, “it’s not the money. Well, it is. I mean, I have to make a living, but the hospital bill’s just part of that.”
“A big part,” she said, twisting her hands together. “I’m so sorry. After the baby comes, I’ll find a full-time job and pay it back to you, I promise.”
“Pay it back!” he erupted, all but shouting at her. “You’re going to pay me back for providing for my own son? He is my son, isn’t he, Bethany? That’s what we agreed.”
She stood there staring at him with those big blue eyes without saying a word, and he felt like the biggest heel on earth. He had to get out of there before he did something even worse, like spill his guts and lay his heart at her feet.
“I’m sorry,” he said, starting around the truck. “I can’t talk to you about this now. I have to go.”
She ran to meet him, skirting around the front end of the truck. “Chandler!”
He got the door open before she reached him, and they drew up with that hunk of metal and glass between them, that and so much more. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t think anything could be. There could be light-years and aeons between them, and he’d still want her.
“I’ll pray for you,” she promised breathlessly. “Please be safe, and come home soon.”
He reached for her before he could stop himself, his hands cupping her head through the dark silk of her hair and pulling her toward him. She bumped up against the door, belly first, her blue, blue eyes plumbing his. If only he knew what those eyes were telling to him.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to bend his head and kiss her until the rest of the world just disappeared. Somehow, he managed to let go. Ducking into the truck cab, he slammed the door shut and reached for the keys.
She stood with her hands fisted beneath her chin as he backed the truck out from beneath the porte cochere and around the corner of the house, and she was the last thing that he saw in his rearview mirror before he turned the truck toward Dovey’s and the longest, loneliest, saddest drive of his life.
Chapter Thirteen
Tears and prayer occupied Bethany’s entire weekend. Even learning of Jay’s lies had not frightened her like this. She’d been angry, yes, and hurt, but not afraid, not until he’d threatened to file for custody of the baby if she revealed his duplicity. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to figure out his game.
Ironically, like Chandler, Jay had traveled for a living, supposedly as a paper goods salesman. She’d never known that, as Jason Widener, he possessed a controlling interest in the Houston paper goods distributor for which he supposedly worked. That was where he’d gotten the idea for his second persona, Jay Carter. Likewise, she was unaware that he owned a thriving real estate development business in Tulsa and had a second—or rather, a first—wife and family there.
The scam had been so simple, really. He carried two cell phones. One was supposedly for business use, the other for personal. She had called, used and answered the personal one many times over the years. She had never touched the other the phone, which he had kept on his person at all times, even carrying it into the bathroom with him when he showered.
Then she’d discovered that she was pregnant. He’d dragged his feet about having children, and she hadn’t planned it, expecting that eventually his feelings would change, but suddenly they were going to have a baby. She was shocked by his anger. They argued about it incessantly every moment that he was there, which was less and less often. One morning he’d slammed out of the house in a rage over her determination to go through with the pregnancy, leaving his business phone behind. Almost at once, the thing had begun ringing insistently. Finally, concerned that it might be important or that it was him calling, Bethany had answered.
A woman on the other end of the line went berserk. Every word was permanently implanted in Bethany’s brain.
“Who are you? Where’s my husband? I knew he was having an affair! I knew it! He’s a married man, you hussy! Have you no shame? Do you even think about our children?”
Stunned, she’d hung up without a word. She was throwing up when Jay returned, shocked into physical illness. It had taken her almost twenty-four hours to digest the full reality of her situation—and ten minutes to leave. Jay had first tried to convince her to “let things be,” but as she’d packed her bags, he’d snarled that he would not let her ruin him and warned that no man would ever want her now.
“If you just hadn’t insisted on having that kid!” he’d shouted.
Hours later she’d stumbled into Chandler’s path. He had seemed God-given. She still believed it. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, the best thing that could have happened for her son. And she was losing him. How could that be?
With that on her mind, when the phone rang in the suite late Sunday evening, Bethany literally recoiled. She never answered the phone at Chatam House, leaving that to the staff and the aunties. Besides, she’d never received a phone call there and didn’t expect to, so she was surprised when Magnolia tapped on her door a few minutes later to ask her to pick up.
Hurrying to the desk, she reached for the wireless receiver, then paused in concern before carrying it to the sofa. An unexpected phone call had destroyed her world once before. Was history about to repeat itself?
Warily, she pushed the green button and held the receiver to her head. “Hello?”
A gusty sigh greeted her. “Sorry if I got you out of bed.”
It was Chandler, and the sound of his voice both warmed and chilled her.
“No, no. I—I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“That’s good,” he said. Then, “No, actually, that’s bad. You need your sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when you’re home again,” she said thoughtlessly.
A long silence followed, then softly Chandler said, “Honey, that’s why I’m calling. I won’t be in tonight. I broke an axle on the trailer, and it’ll be tomorrow before I can find someone to repair it.”
&n
bsp; “Are you all right?” she asked shakily.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Horses, too. But we aren’t going anywhere until I get these wheels turning, and this is the back of beyond up here in Colorado. Drew’s with me, though. Cindy didn’t come this trip, either.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just keep praying. You must have some pull, girl. We did fine up here. Purse is not as large as last time, but what there was, we two walked away with. One of the fellas joked that we were in an all-fired hurry this weekend, and Drew said it was ’cause we couldn’t wait to get home to our women.” He laughed lightly, while Bethany’s heart clutched. “He’s right about that. Fact is, I miss you.” Belatedly he added, “I-It’s not half so fun without you and Cindy.”
“Oh, Chandler, I miss you, too,” she managed, her throat suddenly clogged.
“Bethany, I’m sorry about the way I left,” he said, his entire tone changing. “I’ve got a bit of a temper, as you know. You’ve seen me and my dad go at it a couple times now. I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you. You’ve done nothing wrong, and you’re more dear to me than you probably realize. It’s just this lousy temper of mine.”
She laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks. “If you call that a lousy temper, Chandler Chatam, then you know nothing of real anger. Now, my stepfather had a bad temper. A little moodiness now and again is a birthday party compared to that. Besides, you have a right to your frustration. I’ve complicated your life terribly.”
“It’s gotten real interesting, I admit,” he told her, but there was a smile in his voice. “I was doing a good job of complicating things on my own before you came along, though. And I like your complications a whole lot better than mine.”
She laughed again, then bit her lip as a painful cramp hit her. They’d been coming every few hours, each seemingly more vicious than the last, and her back ached constantly these days. The former was no doubt a measure of her emotional stress, the latter a result of the extra weight she was carrying. She promised herself that she was going to stop worrying now and trust God to take care of things. That would surely take care of the cramps if not the backache.
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I know what’s what,” Chandler promised. “You get some sleep now.”
“I will,” she said, trying not to let on as the cramp rolled through her. “C-congratulations on your wins. Wish I could have been there.”
“Me, too,” he whispered. “Night.”
“Good night.”
Breaking the connection, she laid her head back. As her muscles gradually relaxed, she dried her eyes and smiled. She had feared the unexpected call for no reason.
The most important bits played through her mind.
You’re more dear to me than you probably realize. I miss you.
It was a start, she told herself. Good things could come at the end of a telephone line, too. Even with a broken axle to be mended and the necessary delay in his return, Chandler’s call had given her more peace and hope than any other ever had.
“Keep praying,” he’d said, and that was just what she was going to do. She’d pray her husband safely home and her way straight into his heart.
Chandler backed the trailer into the barn and killed the engine of the truck. Behind him, the horses bumped against the metal walls, eager to get out and chow down. He didn’t blame them. What a rough few days it had been! He’d slept in his truck two nights in a row to safeguard his horses, sending Drew off home as soon as he’d found someone to replace the axle. That had taken an entire day, though, so here he was on a Tuesday afternoon just now getting back to Buffalo Creek.
Thankfully, he had won a good bit, enough so that the four hundred bucks he’d spent getting back on the road hadn’t troubled him. In fact, he’d promised God and himself that he wasn’t going to worry about the money anymore. They’d make do with whatever God provided.
He wasn’t even going to worry anymore about moving out of Chatam House. When the timing was right, it would happen. Meanwhile, he could hardly complain about the accommodations. It was mostly a matter of pride with him, anyway. He was learning to swallow that when he had to. He’d swallowed a bit of it when he’d called Bethany, and he was glad he had.
As soon as he could work his courage up to it, he was going to tell her how he really felt and hope that it wasn’t just her sweetness and misplaced guilt that had made her act as she had. He’d been thinking about the way she’d said that she missed him and other things—incessantly. It could be wishful thinking on his part, but it seemed to him that there was at least hope that her feelings had changed. And even if they had not, they still could. Maybe just letting her know that he wanted her to love him, that he wanted this marriage to work, would be enough to start the ball rolling. Whatever the outcome, though, he had to try.
The worst that could happen, after all, was what he already had, a temporary marriage in name only. If that was what God willed, Chandler decided, then God would undoubtedly make a way for him to survive it.
He off-loaded the horses, walked them into their stalls and began hauling out the feed. He didn’t bother with the wheelbarrow as the truck was in the way. His phone rang as he carried the heavy bag toward the stalls, balancing it on one shoulder. He fished the phone out of his shirt pocket with one hand and glanced at the caller ID. Frowning, he tried to remember the last time his father had called him. That had surely been the day Kaylie and Stephen had gotten engaged, though Hub’s intent at the time had been to derail such a possibility by convincing her brothers to oppose the romance. Curious, Chandler answered the call.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Are you in town?”
“I’m just dropping off the horses.”
“Thank God!”
Chandler’s heart stopped. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Best come to the hospital, son. Bethany’s in labor.”
Chandler didn’t wait to hear more. He dropped the bag of feed and sprinted for the rig, one hand clamped to the crown of his hat. He was in the cab before he remembered that he hadn’t put up the ramp and locked down the trailer door. Barking questions at his dad, he hurriedly went about securing the trailer and jumped back into the truck.
According to Hub, Bethany had complained of cramps and nausea earlier in the day. He’d tried to convince her to go home, but she’d insisted on lying down on the sofa in the counseling room. When Hub had checked on her some time later, he’d found her holding her belly and moaning. He’d gotten her up and walked her to his car, intending to drive her to her doctor’s office. She’d argued that she was merely suffering from Braxton-Hicks contractions—right up to the moment that she’d doubled over and screamed. Hub had rushed her to the emergency room. He had no idea what was happening with her now, as they wouldn’t let him stay with her.
Lights flashing, Chandler raced through town, trailer and all, laying on his horn at intersections and praying fervently aloud.
“Oh, Lord, let it be another false alarm. It’s too early, and she’s all alone in there. Please just take care of them. Protect them both. Please don’t let me lose either of them!”
He left the rig at the curb in a no-parking zone. Let them ticket him. Let them tow the whole kit and kaboodle! He didn’t care. If his wife and son were not well, then nothing else mattered. Dashing inside to the elevators, he caught a car just as the door was closing on an elderly fellow carrying a pot plant. The old gentleman nodded, but Chandler was too overwrought to return the greeting. He poked the elevator button repeatedly, in the faint hope that it would somehow speed up the seemingly interminable ride.
At last, the elevator came to a halt and the door slid open. Chandler bolted for the nurses’ station. A heavyset, fortyish woman with a long, thin brown ponytail looked up and smiled at him.
“Where’s my wife?” Chandler demanded.
The woman had obviously seen too many distraught husbands to pay much attention to them. “Name?”
The nurse didn’t even check her records before glancing up and saying, “They’re on their way down with her now.”
“Down?”
“Delivery is on the next floor.”
“She’s had the baby, then?”
“She has.”
Stunned, Chandler babbled, “I-Is the baby okay?”
To his dismay, the nurse looked away, saying, “The doctor’s with him now.”
Chandler gulped and swept off his hat, remembering only then that it was still on his head. “I have to see Bethany.”
The nurse gave him the room number and told him that he could wait there. He went straight to the room. The space contained a sitting area complete with sofa and recliner, as well as a private bath and flat-screen TV. It had everything except a bed. Tossing his hat onto the sofa, he paced the floor for several seconds before the door opened and his father walked in.
“Dad! Where is she?”
“She’ll be along any minute.”
“How is she?”
Hub hitched his pants up around his paunch, his frame otherwise so thin that he often joked that he looked like an olive on a toothpick. His expression lacked any hint of amusement, however. “Physically, she’s fine. Doctor said she had a quick, easy time of it, though she’s probably been in what he called slow labor for a couple days. It was obvious this morning that she didn’t feel good. Still, she seemed to think it would pass until almost the very end.”
“You said she’s okay physically.”
“Yes. Emotionally…” Hub shook his head.
“It’s the baby, isn’t it? What are they saying about him?”
Hub sighed. “I gather there are some problems. The doctor said something about babies losing weight during protracted labors like this and stress delaying development.”
Feeling as if his legs might buckle, Chandler stumbled backward. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to either of them.”