by Beverly Farr
He’d learned early to keep his feelings hidden. That’s why it was difficult to say the words to Kelly. He knew he loved her, but the depth of her emotional commitment was different from his.
He’d thought he could tough it out, taking whatever crumbs she was willing to give him, and be grateful. But when he heard her say the words, he remembered the last time she’d said them, when it meant nothing.
He was a fool to care so much.
She never would have married him if she hadn’t been upset with Nigel, and she wouldn’t be living with him now if it weren’t for the baby.
The baby. He had to remember the baby, and do what was right for that child. He didn’t want his child to be raised the way he was.
The right thing was to stay married to Kelly and work it out somehow. Even if that meant not flinching every time she said, “I love you.”
In her own way, she probably thought she meant it, but her feelings were so fleeting, they could change at any moment. That was part of her attraction -- her spontaneity, her freedom of expression. Life would never be dull with Kelly.
He smiled, remembering the pizza dinner. She’d handled the crisis with aplomb, apologizing with humor and winning everyone over.
He’d watched her mingle through the crowd, her long skirt swaying against her legs, her arms and hands gesturing as she spoke. Her smile. Her laugh. She was wonderful, the perfect wife for him.
But was he right for her? She teased him about being uptight, and needing to relax. She was right, but he only knew one way to face life: full steam ahead. The trouble came when he couldn’t solve a problem by working harder.
He didn’t have hobbies, he wasn’t creative like Kelly. All his efforts and energies had gone into succeeding at Rawlins Lighting. Perhaps some of that had been to win Frank Rawlins’ fatherly approval, but he’d also done it to prove to himself that he was worth something.
And now he was president. The achievement should have been more satisfying, and probably would be if he thought he were doing an adequate job.
But without Kelly, it didn’t meant anything. One of these days she was going to wake up and realize he’d trapped her. And then she’d leave again.
#
Kelly opened the door of the electric kiln to remove the biscuit ware, the clay pots and bowls that had been fired once. Today she planned to glaze them and fire them again. But as she removed the red orange bowls, she saw that several were cracked and one large oval platter was broken in pieces.
Every potter had some breakage, but it was always disappointing. Every piece started with such promise. She held each piece up to the light, looking for imperfections. She didn’t want to waste glaze and time on anything that wasn’t going to withstand another firing.
She tried to focus on the tasks of the day, but found herself standing at the sink, staring at the running water going down the drain.
Where were she and Lars headed? Did they have a marriage that would withstand the heat? That morning, he hadn’t come home and back to bed until three a.m., and then he was up and gone again before seven. But at least he’d slept in her bed, and not in the room down the hall.
Kelly turned off the water, dried her hands and walked over to the living room window. She was too distracted to do a good job on the glazing. It was better to stop for a while and think.
She twisted the wand on the mini blinds so they opened and she could see the other houses on the street. A mother weeded the flower beds in front of her house while a four year old girl watched and played with rocks.
Kelly thought about the night before -- the dinner party, sleeping with Lars, his leaving. She loved him, but he didn’t believe her.
And she had some choices to make.
She could persist in using the words, nagging him to reciprocate and ultimately drive him away. Or she could be happy with what she had.
She wished she knew why she’d asked him for a divorce, why she said she’d only slept with him to get back at Nigel. But that was as futile as trying to figure out why one bowl cracked and another didn’t. The damage was done, and it was time to move on.
But oh how she wished she could remember.
#
“Thanks, Nigel, I appreciate that. Bye.”
From the hallway, Lars heard Kelly talking on the phone, and the words staggered him. She was talking to Nigel. How long had this been going on? How many times had she spoken to him since they moved in together? Was she seeing him, too?
He steeled his face into a mask of indifference and stepped into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Lars,” she said cheerfully. She was beautiful in a light blue peignoir and matching robe. “Look what Mrs. Levine made -- cinnamon rolls.”
He reached for a box of cold cereal in the cupboard and set it on the table.
“You’re not going to eat that shaved cardboard when you could eat one of these, are you?” she asked, waving a roll in front of him to tempt him.
He poured the cereal into a bowl. “I know you think I’m boring, but this is what I like to eat for breakfast.”
She frowned at his tone of voice. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Only that my wife is talking to her ex-fiancé, he thought as he took a carton of milk from the refrigerator. He’d known from the beginning that he was second best with her, so he shouldn’t be surprised. Foolishly he had hoped that the passion they shared the past few nights meant something. But she had already proven in March that it meant little. “No,” he said in a more controlled tone. “I’m fine. How are you?”
She took a bite of her cinnamon roll. “Pretty good, actually. I have a list of errands to run today. Do you want to come with me?”
What’s the matter, couldn’t Nigel make it?
He pushed the jealous thought aside, knowing it wasn’t fair to suspect Kelly. “I heard you on the phone just now,” he said, giving her the opportunity to tell him more, if she chose to.
“Oh, that,” she said lightly. “I’ve been trying for four days to reach Tiffany to tell her about Sarah Crosby and her company.”
He couldn’t believe that she was lying to him.
She continued, “Her phone was disconnected, but then I learned from Brenda that she’s moved in with Nigel.” She made a wry face. “I guess I should have seen that coming. Anyway, she wasn’t in, so Nigel took a message.” She rolled her eyes. “That was awkward.”
Lars was ashamed of his suspicions and the way he’d jumped to conclusions. He sat down at the breakfast table, opposite from her. “Does it bother you that Tiffany and Nigel are together?”
She smiled at him. “Not anymore. At first it made me mad, but now I mostly feel sorry for her. He’s such a complete jerk.”
Lars would not have put it so nicely. “But she knows what she’s getting.”
“Maybe. I don’t know if any of us really know what we’re getting.”
What did that mean? He didn’t want to find out if she was referring to him. He took a bite of cereal. “Tell me more about these errands.”
“I want to go shopping.”
“For KPots?”
“No, for the baby.” She looked down and rubbed her stomach. “The maternity books call it nesting.”
“You’re looking for twigs and string?”
She smiled up at him. “A crib, actually. Do you want to help me pick it out?”
He thought of the mountain of papers on his desk, waiting for his decisions. Let them wait. He said, “Why not?”
#
Kelly took Lars’ hand in hers, and pulled him towards the large BABY GALORE store. “I can’t believe you took time off from work to come shopping with me,” she said happily.
He looked embarrassed. “You’ve been telling me for weeks that we needed to spend more time together, so here I am. For the whole morning, I’m yours.”
She raised one eye-brow. “Really? Then what are we doing wasting it in a store?”
He smiled with a familiar glint in his eye. �
��Did you have something better in mind?”
She laughed, enjoying the sexual banter. Now that she had slept with him and could remember it, she was so much more comfortable around him. “We can do that later,” she teased and gave him a quick kiss. “Right now I want to buy a crib.”
“Lead the way.”
Inside the sliding glass doors, they saw a large fenced play area with plastic climbing toys. Several children with brightly colored wrist bands played happily while a uniformed employee supervised. “Let’s get one of those,” he said.
“What -- the playground equipment or the nanny?”
“I was referring to the playground equipment, but do you want a nanny?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My mother stayed home to raise me, and I’d like to do the same for our baby. Although I probably will set up a potter’s wheel next to the nursery, so I can throw pots during nap time.”
“From what I’ve read, you should nap when the baby naps,” Lars said. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out. For the first few months, the baby won’t be sleeping through the night.”
He’d been reading her baby books. She found that endearing. “Didn’t I tell you?” she teased. “You’re in charge of all the night time feedings and diaper changes. You’ll be the one who needs a nap.”
“Diapers?” he repeated incredulously. “I’ve never changed a diaper before in my life.”
“Neither have I,” she countered. “So I guess we’ll both have to learn.” She could imagine him, with his sleeves rolled up, facing a messy diaper.
“Didn’t you babysit?”
“Nope. I was too busy swimming, riding my bike, or building something in the basement. Dolls and babies never appealed to me.” She saw a beautiful pink dress with smocking across the yoke and daisies embroidered along the hem. “Isn’t this sweet?” she asked, holding it up by the hanger and glancing at the price tag. “I wonder if we’ll have a girl or a boy.”
She looked at Lars and saw he was frowning. He asked, “You do want this baby, don’t you?”
It took her a moment to understand what he was asking, then she hastened to reassure him. She took his arm. “Of course I do. Just because I didn’t drool over babies when I was twelve, doesn’t mean I’m destined to be a rotten mother. I always planned to have children someday.”
“But not this soon.”
She didn’t want him to worry about that. “I’ll admit the whole idea shocked me at first, but it’s growing on me.”
He relaxed, smiling at her pun, and patted her stomach. “I’m glad.”
She pointed to an escalator. “Let’s head upstairs and look at the furniture.”
As they rode upstairs, Kelly sneaked a glance at her handsome husband. He caught her watching him, and squeezed her hand. For an instant, Kelly felt as if her heart would flood with love.
Upstairs, they found a sea of cribs. “What appeals to you?” she asked, showing various models with a flourish. “This red metal tubing is a modern look. The white laminate is functional, the lightly stained oak is more traditional.”
“I don’t care what we get as long as it isn’t covered with this stuff.” He grimaced as he fingered the frilly lacy cover on a bassinet.
“I’ll forgo the white lace,” she agreed, “if you won’t insist on football.” She pointed to a comforter covered with a football print. The green fitted sheet that matched it, was printed with the markings of a football field.
Lars laughed. “It’s a deal. Let’s get something that would work for a boy or girl. What do you think of that jungle print?”
“The lion is ugly,” Kelly said decisively. “He looks mean enough to bite, and I don’t want Junior to have nightmares.” She held up another blanket. “These penguins are cute.”
“I know -- we could paint the floor blue and decorate the crib like an iceberg.”
Kelly had never seen Lars act so silly. He was getting into the mood of this. “I take it, that’s a ‘no.’“
Eventually they agreed on a white wooden crib and matching dresser, and a Beatrice Potter bedding set, complete with coordinating curtains. As Lars carried the bedding set to a cash register, he stopped. “Look at that.” He set the package on the floor and picked up a tan teddy bear that was displayed on another crib. He told Kelly, “This looks like my old bear, although this one is in a lot better shape.”
“Pretty rough on yours, huh?”
“I took it everywhere,” he said, giving the bear a squeeze. “Don’t tell anyone, but when I cried on the first day of kindergarten, it wasn’t because I was leaving my mom. It was because I was leaving Brown Bear.”
She smiled, thinking of him as a little blonde headed boy, missing his bear. “Mine was named Tinkerbell. Somehow I got my bear mixed up with the Peter Pan story.” She wondered where her mother had packed Tinkerbell away. “Do you still have Brown Bear?”
“No, he must have been thrown away when my mom and I moved out.” He rubbed his thumb over the bear’s shiny black button eyes.
“How old were you when your parents divorced?”
“Seven.”
That was so young, she thought with a pang of sympathy. For some reason she’d thought he was older. “I didn’t get to meet him at the wedding, but your Dad re-married and had more children, right?”
“Not until I was twelve, and by then I was at boarding school.”
Was that where he’d learned to do his duty with such precision? What a lonely childhood he must have had.
He saw her watching him and put the bear back on display. He picked up the bedding and walked towards the cash register. A woman with twins in a double stroller stood in line ahead of them. “Do twins run in your family?” he asked casually.
Kelly said, “No, thank goodness. Yours?”
“No. I just thought it might be a good way to get two for the price of one.”
“Dr. Armanzo assured me that I’m only having one.”
“When do we get to find out if we’re having a boy or girl?”
“In about a month,” she answered.
The woman ahead them turned around and smiled. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Is this your first?” she asked.
Kelly beamed with pride. “Yes.”
They paid for their purchases, and Lars went downstairs to supervise the clerk carrying out the unassembled crib.
“Go ahead,” Kelly said. “I want to look at something else. I’ll be down in a minute.”
She waited until Lars was out of sight, then walked over to the teddy bear he liked. “I want two of these,” she told the clerk. “Shipped to my home address.” For Christmas, she’d give one to the baby and one to Lars.
For lunch, they stopped at an Italian restaurant, and sat outside on a stone patio with a fountain bubbling in the background. Kelly ate her fettuccini alfredo, watching Lars, admiring the way the wind ruffled his thick blonde hair. He really was beautiful. “Would you wear a periwinkle blue shirt if I bought you one?” she asked idly.
“If you bought it, I’d wear it,” he said.
“To work?”
He hesitated, not wanting to offend her, and she laughed. “I guess that was pushing it. I know you’re the white shirt and tie type and probably always will be.” For a few minutes they ate in silence. “Speaking of Rawlins,” she began. “What’s it like being President? Are you having any fun?”
He pushed aside his shrimp scampi, and looked at her. “The truth?”
The seriousness of his expression surprised her. “I guess so.”
“It’s not going well,” he said simply. “And no, it isn’t fun.”
She’d never thought she’d hear him say that. Lars exuded confidence and always seemed to have a solution for any problem. She was humbled that he trusted her enough to share his concerns. “What’s the problem?”
“Too much to do. Conflicting interests between the different departments. You name it. I work and I work, and I can’t seem to get a handle on it.”
He smiled wryly and changed the subject. “I thought you weren’t hungry. Do you want to finish mine, too?”
She looked at her plate. Somehow she’d managed to eat it all. Dr. Armanzo would be proud of her. “No thank you, this is enough.” She added quietly, “Whenever my Dad couldn’t figure something out, he hired an expert, or two, or three, until he knew what to do. No one expects you to be Superman.”
“That’s what you think.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen? The Board of Directors fires you and we have to live off KPots profits.”
His lips tightened into a thin line. “It won’t come to that, Kelly.”
“Good,” she said and leaned forward to speak in a dramatic whisper, “Because confidentially, production has been a little slow lately.”
He reached across the table to take her hand. “Thank you, Kelly.”
At that moment, she felt like his wife, part of a team working together, instead of just the woman he slept with.
She felt a funny twitch in her abdomen. For a moment, she thought it was something she’d eaten, but she pressed her hand to her stomach and felt the slight inward shifting again.
“What’s wrong?” Lars asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “That’s just our baby saying, ‘Hi, Mom and Dad.’“
#
“Nigel Parker to see you.”
Lars set aside his papers. Why in the world would Nigel want to see him? “Send him in,” he said.
Nigel walked in, confident and cocky, wearing a shiny gray suit with a black t-shirt. “Thanks for taking a few minutes from your busy schedule to see me,” he said, not bothering to put his hand forward for a handshake. He pointed to a chair across from Lars’ desk. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Go ahead.”
Nigel sat down, leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. “Nice office,” he said, looking around. “Rawlins doing well?”
Nigel obviously had something to say, and Lars wasn’t going let himself get annoyed by the preliminary small talk. He waited.
Nigel cleared his throat. “I’m here about Kelly,” he said finally.