The New Man

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Ginny slept much of the way to Spokane, waking to gaze silently out the window at the hills of golden wheat. Helen spent two days in Spokane, finding only one sure taker and a dozen more shop owners who promised to get in touch.

  This was the first time in two years that Helen had had Ginny to herself for more than a few hours at a time. Her pleasure in the days of conversation made her question again her decision to give up the security of a regular income and with it the chance to make a home just for the two of them. And yet, she was pleased with what she’d accomplished on this trip, walking in cold to meet shopkeepers, and was hopeful that orders would pour in. As she drove miles of long, straight, empty highway, Ginny asleep beside her, with nothing to look at but tumbleweeds piled on rusted, falling-down barbed-wire fences, she dreamed of making enough money to buy a house.

  And she thought about Alec. She attributed the sting of tears to the grit blowing across the highway, leaving streaks of yellow sand on the pavement. Some must have come in through the vents and gotten into her eyes.

  Oh, he’d profess to be glad when she called, Helen guessed, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was vague about getting together. Or perhaps they’d meet once or twice, then the intervals between phone calls would increase.

  She shouldn’t care so terribly much. She wished she’d told him how she felt in the beginning. It wasn’t as if he’d said anything about the future or falling in love, but she had seen the shock on his face. He must have been thinking, at least in the back of his mind, of marriage and stepparenting and all those things that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do.

  But an ache under her breastbone told her that she didn’t want to lose him. Why couldn’t they go on the way they had been? They could date, and be friends, and maybe make love. Wasn’t that enough?

  Half a dozen times she was tempted to call him on her cell phone, just to say hi, but she always stopped herself. She didn’t want to spoil the time with Ginny by finding out that he’d lost interest, now that he knew she wasn’t a candidate to become Wife Number Two. This week gave them both a chance to think. To miss each other—or not.

  After Wenatchee, the highway climbed into the Cascades, the forest growing thicker and greener until they reached Stevens Pass and more empty ski lifts and lodges that looked odd without snow crowning their roofs. Then they were back in Western Washington, dropping in sweeping curves toward Monroe and Everett and I-5, which would take them back to Seattle.

  “Are you glad to be almost home?” Helen asked Ginny as they passed the freeway exit to Edmonds.

  “No, I had fun.”

  “Even if all we did was drive?”

  “We did lots of other stuff. Besides, I like going with you.”

  “I’ll take you when I can,” Helen promised. “Maybe we’ll have time for one more trip before school starts.” What the heck—Ginny would have to start staying home soon enough.

  Ginny’s face brightened. “Really?”

  “Why not? At least a short one. Bellingham and Leavenworth, or maybe onto the Peninsula to Poulsbo, Port Angeles and Port Townsend.”

  “That would be so-o-o fun!”

  Helen laughed and ruffled her hair. “I think so, too.”

  Ginny was quiet for a few miles. They had reached north Seattle when she said, “Are you having dinner with Alec tonight?”

  Helen glanced at her in surprise. “I haven’t talked to him in a week! When would we have planned that?”

  Ginny shrugged. “I just figured.”

  Helen bit her lip. “Don’t you like him?”

  “He’s okay.” Her head turned so fast she risked whiplash. She studied her mother in alarm. “Why? You’re not marrying him or something, are you?”

  “Don’t be silly. You’d be the first to know, kiddo.” Helen stole another look. “Would that be so bad?” The moment the question was out, she wished she could snatch it back. She had no intention of remarrying, Alec or anyone else!

  Her daughter fidgeted with her seat belt. “It might be okay. ’Cuz he’s probably got a nice house, and I liked Lily. Only…” Her words gained momentum. “We might never have time to do stuff together. Just us. And maybe I couldn’t climb into bed with you if I got scared.”

  “I will always have time for us to do stuff together. No matter what. I promise.”

  “Really?” Ginny looked at her with such fear in her eyes, Helen’s heart squeezed. This was a child who would never forget the year when her father was dying and her mother hadn’t had time for her.

  Helen would never forgive herself for neglecting her small daughter. No, she could never, ever go through that kind of loss again.

  “Really,” she swore, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  “Okay.” In an abrupt change of mood, Ginny bounced. “We’re almost home, Mom!”

  Painfully near to tears, Helen smiled. “So we are.”

  ALEC HAD SPENT THE WEEK counting the days and then the hours until he could talk to her again. He went through a stretch of being angry at himself for not being able to dismiss Helen from his mind. He was falling in love with her, and she had gently let him know that the feeling wasn’t mutual. He’d be an idiot to interpret her remarks, made out of the blue, any other way.

  But, after a couple of days of bitter hurt, he had begun reexamining their conversations, their kisses, her expressions. And, damn it, he didn’t believe she wasn’t attracted to him! She seemed to like spending time with him as much as he did with her. She had never been coy, had always been free when he asked her out, had never even hinted that she didn’t have the same hopes most single adults shared.

  She’d taken his daughter bra shopping, for Pete’s sake! Did a woman afraid of commitment and family life do something like that?

  So what had happened? Had their last kiss been too passionate? Had he said something to make her panic? Was it Devlin? Had she decided she couldn’t deal with a problem teenager?

  When he should have been working, Alec tried to remember every word Helen had ever said to him. Especially the last ones.

  It hurt losing Ben. I don’t want to go through that again.

  Yeah, okay. It had hurt. But he’d read that the happier people’s marriages had been, the more likely they were to remarry, and quickly. So why not Helen? Had her marriage really not been that great? If she and Ben had had unresolved problems, or she’d never felt secure in his love, then the pain of losing him in such a final way might have been worse.

  Alec stared at the figures on his computer monitor, willing them to grip him. Expenses had been skyrocketing. Where could they cut? Numbers created patterns for him, when he let them. These wanted to; shapes almost formed, as if he saw mysterious movement from the corner of his eye. But when he looked directly they were gone. He couldn’t concentrate.

  Maybe Helen and Ben had been on the verge of divorce. Had he intended to leave her? What if she was grateful initially for his illness, because he stayed?

  I learned things about myself, too. Things that make me believe it wouldn’t be fair of me to marry again.

  Didn’t that suggest guilt? She believed she was unworthy in some way.

  I can’t believe you were anything but a wonderful wife, he’d said. Would he tell me different, if Ben were here?

  He had glimpsed some inner torment that she had not intended to reveal.

  What? he asked himself in frustration, for the hundredth time. Damn it, what?

  Alec’s speculations got wilder. Had Ben suffered so terribly? Had she somehow engineered his death and now felt like the black widow, who might kill any mate?

  Was there anything she might have done that would make him agree that she shouldn’t ever marry again?

  If so, he couldn’t think what that would be.

  His obsession with learning her secret—if she had a secret—only grew as the week went on. The more ludicrous his conjectures—perhaps she never had been married, and “Ben” was a fiction—the worse his loneliness became.

 
He’d been kidding himself. He wasn’t falling in love; he was in love. He had been living for their near-nightly phone calls, for the chance to see her every few days. He wasn’t a mature man enjoying a relationship with an interesting woman; he was a lovesick teenager whose grades were plummeting because he couldn’t think about anything but his sweetheart.

  She hadn’t been sure what day she’d return. Would she call him? Alec somehow doubted it. And he didn’t want to seem too eager.

  Grimacing, he remembered those high-school courtship rituals: saunter by, pretend you don’t see her, but glance back as if looking for a buddy and hope you catch her looking at you.

  What the hell difference did it make if she knew he was eager?

  But he kept his hand from the phone. Not tonight. He’d wait until tomorrow. He could hear himself, casual, vaguely surprised she was back, saying, Good trip? Hey, when did you get in?

  Tuesday night he called her. Logan answered.

  “Alec. No, Helen isn’t in. She and Kathleen are off somewhere.”

  “Ah. Well, tell her I called. Did she have a good trip?”

  His nonchalance was wasted.

  “Sounds like she did,” Logan said. “I’ll give her your message.”

  Alec hit End and set down the phone. Damn it, he’d been primed to hear her voice! His stomach was churning.

  Now what? Wait to see if she returned his call? Try again tomorrow?

  An hour later, the phone rang. Somewhere in the house, one of the kids pounced on it.

  “Dad!” Devlin bellowed. “It’s for you.”

  “Thanks!” Alec called back, and picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hi.” Helen was laughing. “His lung power is awesome. I can see why he’s a great athlete.”

  He laughed, too. “We wouldn’t need intercoms or that modern convenience called “hold” if everyone had Devlin’s technique.”

  “It beats Ginny’s. She listens gravely, then sets down the phone and walks off to look for the person. They have no idea if she heard them, they got cut off…? Who knows?”

  “Discourages those telemarketers, though.”

  She gave that delightful chuckle again. “How true.”

  They did the “How was your trip? Great” thing then. He’d thought she might have dreamed up some reason to be rushed, but she chatted just like she always had, telling him how much fun she’d had taking Ginny new places. “We went to the water slides in Moses Lake, which was great fun. Of course, I’m sunburned again. Oh, and your wind turbines!” Helen exclaimed. “They’re fascinating. I see what you mean. They almost belong, but not quite. It’s as if some alien culture left them behind, marching silently along the ridges.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, pleased.

  “Only, you’re one of the aliens who built them. I kept trying to reconcile you with those weird towers.”

  “So you thought about me.” If that wasn’t pathetic!

  “Of course I did!” she said warmly. “I almost called you half a dozen times just to talk.”

  His fear eased. “You did?”

  “Yes, but I told myself the week was just for Ginny.”

  “And business.”

  “And business,” she agreed, and told him about her successes and failures and maybes. “I added four new outlets while I was on the road, and I’ve already heard positively from two more stores. So I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

  “Saleswoman extraordinaire!”

  “That’s me,” she said smugly, then spoiled the effect with a belly laugh.

  “I missed you.” Alec heard the huskiness in his own voice.

  She was silent for a moment. “I missed you, too.”

  “I want to see you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Lunch tomorrow?”

  She agreed. They set a time and place, and ended the call. The lovesick teenager inside him tried to figure out what it meant.

  She loved him. She loved him not.

  HE HADN’T SOUNDED any different, Helen reassured herself a dozen times while she waited for Alec the next day at a Queen Anne bakery. Maybe they could go on as they had been. Maybe she’d been mistaken in thinking her announcement had dismayed if not shaken him. Heck, maybe he was relieved!

  She sat at a small wrought-iron table on the sidewalk, shaded by a canopy and screened from the street by greenery. When Alec stepped outside, he looked straight at her as if none of the other diners existed. He made his way through other tables to her, bent over and kissed her, his mouth lingering long enough to make her heart flip-flop, then he sat down.

  “I forget how beautiful you are.”

  Blushing from the kiss and the expression in his eyes, she laughed and shook her head. “We’ve already had this argument, and I’m sure you lost.”

  As if he hadn’t heard her, he said again, more deeply than he had on the phone, “I missed you.”

  She took a breath. “Alec…”

  “I can enjoy your company even if you won’t marry me, can’t I?”

  Helen told herself it was relief that swelled in her chest. “Yes, you can. I’m glad.”

  His expression suddenly arrogant, he said, “I’m going to change your mind, you know.”

  She gaped at him. “What?”

  “Hi.” A teenage waitress laid menus in front of them. “Can I start you with something to drink?”

  Never looking away from Helen, Alec said, “Give us a minute.”

  “Oh. Sure.” She wandered away.

  Helen shook her head. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “That I’m going to change your mind?”

  That he wanted to marry her. Wasn’t that what he had just told her?

  “We hardly know each other.”

  “I know you well enough, Helen Schaefer.” His voice was low and rough. “I want you in my life.”

  “I am in your life.” Heaven help her, she was almost dizzy with exultation. How could she fight him, when she felt this way?

  “But not beside me when I wake up in the morning. Not at the breakfast table, not curled next to me on the couch while we watch the news, not brushing your teeth in the bathroom while I hang up my suit.”

  “I…I haven’t even seen your house.” She was breathless.

  “We’ll fix that.” His expression was intense but tender, and very determined.

  “Alec…” She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see him. “I did mean what I said. I can’t…I just can’t.”

  “Why?”

  Her throat closed; she shook her head.

  “If you won’t tell me, I’ll refuse to believe you.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Alec, I don’t want to…to hurt you.”

  He shook his head and reached across the glass-topped table for her hand. “If I get hurt, on my own head be it. You’ve warned me. I’m refusing to be scared off.”

  Helen was shocked to find that she was glad. She didn’t want an anemic relationship where they had pleasant, undemanding sex and were good friends. She wanted to be loved, with exactly the fierce hunger she saw in his eyes now.

  It’s just that she was afraid, so afraid, to love him the same way.

  “After watching Linda die, it doesn’t scare you to know you might have to go through that again someday?”

  To his credit, Alec took her seriously. “Yeah, it scares me. If you told me you had cancer…” His jaw muscles flexed. “I think it might even be worse the second time, because now I know…” He moved his shoulders as though to relieve tension. “But how can I protect myself from ever having to watch someone I love die? I can’t. My parents are still alive. I’ll probably go through it with them. I have kids. Do you know how many teenagers die in car accidents? The doctors don’t think there is a hereditary component to Linda’s kind of leukemia, but can we be sure?” He looked into her eyes. “People you love die, Helen. That’s life.”

  She knew what he said was true. But he hadn’t had the long, drawn-out battle with death that
she had waged. He hadn’t made his beloved wife suffer because he wouldn’t wave the white flag of surrender.

  “I do know that,” Helen conceded.

  “But that isn’t all that’s bothering you.”

  “I told you.” She bit her lip. “I was left hating myself in the end. It’s…not a comfortable feeling.”

  The waitress stopped at their table again. “Ready to order?”

  “Yes.” Helen flipped open the menu and seized on the first item she saw. “I’ll have the crab sandwich.”

  “And you, sir?”

  Frowning at Helen, he said, “I’ll have the same. And a lemonade, please.”

  She went away, and Helen grasped for her composure. “I don’t want to talk about it, Alec. Maybe sometime. I suppose…oh, I owe you that much. But…not now.”

  He searched her face, then nodded. “All right. Another time. “

  Would she have the courage? Helen didn’t know. Maybe. It seemed she felt braver all the time.

  “Did you tell Devlin what I said?” she blurted.

  He smiled faintly. “Hell, no. Remember, I intend to change your mind.”

  “Oh.”

  “He wouldn’t be comforted anyway.” Alec looked away. “He uses you to get to me. That’s all.”

  “Will you put him in counseling again?”

  The creases between his nose and mouth deepened. “And join him. Obviously, we have issues to discuss.”

  Helen touched his hand. “Good for you.”

  The sandwiches arrived, and she discovered she was hungry after all. Alec asked more about her trip, and her future plans.

  “Thanks to you,” she told him wryly, “I worried about my car the whole way.”

  “You talked once about buying a van.”

  “Kathleen and I did discuss it. But even if we did, the mileage would be lousy for long road trips.”

  This commonsense discussion laid a veneer over deeper emotions, although Helen felt her cheeks warm a few times when she saw the intent way he watched her.