by Beverly Farr
“We have a few more months,” he said reasonably. “There’s no rush.”
Kelly wasn’t surprised by his reaction. He probably wanted to wait until the ultrasound so they could eliminate half the names in the baby name book. That would be the most efficient approach, but she wanted to have fun, going through the book and picking an assortment of possible names. “Do you like the name Amanda or Abigail?”
He said nothing.
“Ashley’s pretty,” she continued, “but I always think of Ashley Wilkes in Gone With the Wind, and --”
“I don’t think we should be discussing names just yet.”
Something was wrong. She could hear it in his voice. “Why not?”
“Because I might be the wrong person to be consulting about names.”
Kelly froze. “What are you talking about?”
He watched her face carefully. “I saw Nigel the other day. He thinks he might be the father of our baby.”
Kelly stammered. “But that’s -- that’s --” She was going to say impossible, but then she had a sudden memory of her and Nigel arguing.
She’d confronted him for sleeping with Tiffany. He said it was her fault for being such a cold fish. “We’ve been engaged a month and I haven’t gotten anything.”
He tried to kiss her, and she’d pushed him away. “You’re not going to get anything now, either.” Then he grabbed her and pushed her down onto his leather couch.
She shivered, remembering his tearing at her clothes. Was her baby the result of rape? Was that why she had blocked those days from her memory?
Lars reached out to touch her gently. “What is it? Did you remember something?
“No,” she said automatically, avoiding his gaze. She put her hand on her stomach. “This is our baby. Nigel is lying. When I first told him I was pregnant, he said it couldn’t be his.”
He had to be lying.
“Well, he’s changed his mind, and until we can take a blood test, there’s no way to know for sure.”
True, but the odds were in Lars’ favor. But what if it was Nigel’s baby? Would Lars want to stay married to her, to raise another man’s child? She didn’t want to think about that; she refused to think about that.
She hugged herself. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away.
“Kelly,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t cry.” He wrapped his arms around her.
I love you, she thought, but didn’t dare say it. I love you and I don’t want to lose you.
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Kelly, if the baby is Nigel’s --”
“No.” She put her fingers up to his lips. “Don’t even say it. Just kiss me. Don’t talk.”
He kissed the salty tears from the corners of her eyes, then her damp cheeks, and finally her trembling lips. Kelly clung to him, not wanting to let go.
As if reading her mind, he picked her up and carried her to their room. They made love quietly, desperately. For a few moments, he made her forget everything but the feel of him. But when the passion was spent, the sick weight of fear returned.
What was she going to do if Nigel was the father? She turned her head to hide her tears.
#
Lars lay in their bed, staring at the ceiling while Kelly slept. He knew she’d remembered something. Something she didn’t want to tell him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, wishing, worrying. It had broken his heart to hear her cry, but at least she was still here, lying next to him. She hadn’t left yet.
Was it fair for him to keep her if she was carrying another man’s child?
Nigel would be a rotten father, but if the baby was his, he did have some rights. Lars would gladly pay him the money to keep him away, but what did Kelly want?
Lars knew what he wanted. He wanted to keep Kelly, to raise this child, to be a family.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Claire looked up from her desk. “Hi, Kelly. Lars is in a meeting right now, but I can let him know you’re waiting outside.”
Kelly shook her head. “Actually, I’m looking for my Dad,” she said. “My mother said he was at the office today?”
“That’s right. He’s wandering the halls. Would you like me to track him down?”
“Yes, please.” Kelly had some questions for him, questions she should have asked five months ago.
After Claire left, Kelly walked around the reception area, straightening the chairs. She frowned, looking at the tapestry on the wall. She should have used more red, she thought.
After ten minutes, Claire had not returned, and Kelly stood by her desk, waiting. She glanced at the neat piles of papers and folders on the desk. One file folder label caught her eye.
Henderson v. Henderson.
Was Lars suing someone? She pulled out the folder and glanced inside. There were the unsigned, unfiled papers for an uncontested divorce. A memo from the Rawlins attorney paper clipped to the petition stated that these papers had been drawn up at Lars’ request.
Kelly looked at the date. This was before he’d known she was pregnant.
On top of the memo was a yellow sticky note with Claire’s handwriting. “Shred?” it asked, and underneath it, in Lars’ bold handwriting, it read, “Keep on File.”
Keep on File. That meant he was still considering divorcing her. Was he waiting until the baby was born to see if he was the natural father?
Kelly’s hands shook so that the papers fell to the desk. She hastily gathered them up and stuffed them back into the file folder.
This is what you get for snooping, she told herself. She never should have looked through the papers on Claire’s desk.
But didn’t she want to know the truth?
I didn’t want to know this, she mentally countered. How could she live with Lars, knowing that he was just biding his time?
“Kelly!” Her father approached, smiling widely. “You’ll never guess what Lars has done now,” he said happily.
Probably not, she thought, and braced herself for her father’s answer.
“He’s hired me as a consultant.”
“That’s great, Dad,” she said, relaxing. “But I thought you wanted to retire and enjoy life.”
“Confidentially, I think total retirement would kill me,” he said. “I wasn’t made to have that much fun.” He laughed his booming laugh. “This way, I get the best of both worlds. I can help out and keep an eye on Rawlins without being in charge.”
And Lars had an expert to teach him how to be President. It made perfect sense.
Her father added, “Not that Lars needs much help. I think he’s taking pity on me.” Frank glanced at his watch. “It’s a little early. Are you meeting Lars for lunch?”
She put her arm through his. “No, I’d rather go with you.”
Her father smiled down at her and teased, “You still like your old man, eh?”
Kelly’s heart contracted with love. Lars was like a son to her father, but she had no reason to be jealous. Her father would always love her, too.
But it would devastate him if her marriage to Lars didn’t last.
“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly.
“Do you want to talk in my office?” he asked, then corrected himself. “Ooops, I forget that I don’t have an office, yet. I’m sure Claire can find us an empty conference room.”
Kelly hesitated. “No, I’d rather go home, if that’s okay with you.” She didn’t want to run the risk of Lars interrupting them.
Frank frowned. “Is everything okay with you and Lars?”
She nodded. Their situation was too complex to explain right now.
“And the baby?”
“Yes.” Dr. Armanzo said the baby was doing fine, growing bigger, right on schedule.
“Then, let’s go.”
They drove separate cars to her childhood home. They sat in the library, a large room with tall oak bookcases, red velvet curtains and big leather chairs that encouraged one to choose a book and escape to another w
orld. That’s what she’d like to do today, Kelly thought: Escape, but there was no escaping reality for long.
She slipped off her shoes and sat with her legs folded underneath her.
“Looks like you intend to stay a while,” he joked.
She nodded.
Frank smiled briefly. “I’ve heard that husbands and wives start acting like each other, but I’ve never seen you so quiet, Kelly.”
“Maybe some of Lars is rubbing off on me,” she said. There was something to be said for thinking before one spoke, for planning and preparing instead of merely reacting. She had a habit of going off like a firecracker, and she wanted to change that. “I need to know more about those last few days before my accident,” she said quietly.
“You and Lars got married. What else is there?”
She shook her head. “No, before that. You said I’d had a fight with Nigel. What specifically did I tell you?”
He thought back. “Nothing much. You were too upset. You came into my office, ranting, saying the wedding was off. You hated Nigel, you never wanted to see him again, you never wanted to hear his name again.”
That sounded like her. “Did I tell you why?”
“No, just that you’d had a fight.”
Would she have told her father if Nigel had raped her? Kelly didn’t know. “What about later that weekend, when I came back from Reno?”
He smiled. “We didn’t talk. You just sent a text that you were busy at the studio. I didn’t know you’d been to Reno. I was just glad that you were home, safe and sound.”
“And I didn’t tell you where I’d been?”
“No.”
She frowned. “Weren’t you worried about me?”
He shook his head. “Not particularly. I knew you were with Lars.”
This didn’t make sense. Lars said they’d planned to surprise her parents with the wedding. “How could you know that?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Lars had texted me. He said he’d found you, you were fine, and that you’d both be coming home in a few days.”
“Found me?” she repeated, voice rising. “Was I lost?”
He chose his words carefully. “You were very upset that day in my office. When I called later, you didn’t answer your phone.”
“I’d lost it.”
“I didn’t know that at the time. I asked Lars to go after you, to make sure you were all right.”
“Why?”
“I was worried. I didn’t think you should be driving around when you were that mad. I didn’t want you going through a red light or --”
“Running into a tree,” she finished, nodding. Her father was overly protective, but he had his reasons -- he’d never forgotten the time when she was first learning to drive and had mistaken the gas for the brakes. She’d driven into their garage door.
And considering the fact that she had smashed her car only a few days after her fight with Nigel, perhaps he had been wise.
She frowned. “But that was a complete accident. I was upset, yes, but I swerved to keep from hitting a dog.”
Her words seemed to surprise him as much as they surprised her. He gasped. “You remember the accident?”
Yes, she remembered the accident. With a flood of memories, she remembered more and more. The fight with Nigel, eloping with Lars, telling Lars she wanted a divorce. Finally, everything made perfect sense.
She sat down weakly in the chair.
“Kelly, are you all right?” her father asked.
“No,” she said tightly. “I’m not all right.” Nothing was right any more.
#
Kelly drove home, remembering.
The only good thing about her memories was that Nigel was definitely not her baby’s father. He’d been bluffing, trying to stir up trouble.
That Friday night she’d gone to the club with Brenda who had picked her up at the studio. Brenda said she wanted to get drunk, so Kelly agreed to be the designated driver. She drank virgin margaritas while they verbally trashed the men in their lives and critiqued the ones on the dance floor. Gina and Andrea joined them, so Kelly hadn’t told Brenda about Nigel sleeping with Tiffany. She wanted to wait until they could talk privately.
Unfortunately, with her accident and memory loss, she’d never gotten the chance. If Brenda had known, she would have told her, and she would never have gone ahead with her plans to marry Nigel. But that meant Lars wouldn’t have found out about the wedding and would have stayed in Boston. It might have been months before she saw him, and if she’d been pregnant, without him, that would have been worse.
It was a convoluted web of what-ifs. It was best to focus on the facts, what had really happened, which was complicated enough.
Lars. After they’d been at the club an hour, Lars appeared in the front entry.
Kelly waved at him and motioned for him to join them.
Brenda said seriously, “Lars is worth ten of Nigel,” then hiccupped. “Oh no. I’ve got to find a bathroom,” she said quickly. “I’ll be back.”
Gina said over the noise of the crowd, “I’ve always fancied Lars.”
Back off, Kelly had thought, amazed at how territorial she felt. She didn’t want Gina putting her hands on him.
“The Iceman?” Andrea laughed. “Good luck.”
“I’d like to melt him.” Gina tugged down on her dress so that more of her cleavage showed.
“No,” Kelly said firmly. “He’s mine. I get to try first.” She slid off her stool and walked through the crowd to meet him.
She could hear her friends behind her laughing. They thought she was joking, but she wasn’t joking.
In that moment, she’d realized that Lars was exactly what she’d been looking for all her life. But she also knew that he’d never make the first move. Maybe he thought she was too young, or too silly, but she was determined to finally get his attention, no matter what it took.
He looked relieved to see her. “Hi, Kelly.”
She took his hand, not bothering with conversation. “Dance with me,” she ordered, and pulled him onto the dance floor.
Kelly frowned, remembering how blatant she’d been. The poor man didn’t know what hit him. She danced circles around him, trying to let him know by her moves and her smiles that she was a woman, in love with him. And then when they were slow dancing, she slid flat against him, whispering in his ear.
When they finally came back to their table, she ordered another drink, “Same as before,” and downed it quickly.
Lars’ eyebrows rose. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”
She didn’t tell him they had all been alcohol free. “Five maybe?” she said, and giggled at his disapproval. He hadn’t seen anything yet. She felt fearless. “Kiss me.”
Something had blazed briefly in his eyes, but then he dutifully, calmly kissed her cheek.
She’d grabbed his tie. “No, really kiss me.”
He said stiffly, “I think it’s time for me to take you home.”
“Your place or mine?”
He escorted her to his car. “I’m not taking you home, yet,” he told her. “Your mother will have another heart attack if you show up drunk.”
It had been fairly simple to convince him to drive to his condo. They ended up on his couch. She told him about Nigel and cried. He told her Nigel wasn’t worth the tears; that she’d find someone better. She snuggled up to him. “Do you like me, Lars?”
“I’ve always liked you, Kelly.”
At that point, she’d kissed him and it was if a firecracker exploded inside him.
Kelly frowned at the memories. No one was denying that they were physically attracted to each other, but marriage had to be based on more than that.
She went upstairs and took out a suitcase.
#
Lars left his meeting and drove home. He unlocked the door and ran upstairs, praying that he wasn’t too late.
Kelly was packing a small suitcase when he came into the room. Lars stood in the doorway for a m
oment, remembering the last time he’d watched her pack. When she said she wanted a divorce.
This time her actions were less controlled. She folded a t-shirt and shoved it into the suitcase before looking up at him. “Hi, Lars. Did my father tell you we’d talked?”
“Yes.”
“So he sent you home to solve the problem. Just like last time.”
“You don’t understand,” he protested.
“Then correct me if I’m wrong. I get upset because my fiancé is sleeping around, and everybody overreacts, thinking I’m going to fall apart emotionally. What is it -- Kelly can’t handle her own problems? We have to step in and make everything better?”
She was angry. He’d known she’d be angry once she remembered everything. “He was worried.”
“So he sends trusty Lars to find me and bring me home.”
The words were cruel, but accurate.
“What did he say to you, anyway? Do whatever it takes, but keep her happy?” Kelly laughed bitterly. “I don’t think he intended you to marry me while you were babysitting, but hey, as long as we were having a good time, why not?”
Lars winced. He deserved her sarcasm. “That’s not what happened.”
“You forget, Lars, I remember everything now.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “I chased you, flirting and making the moves, not the other way around. I was the one who proposed to you. And you, gentleman that you are, went along with it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“You were vulnerable, distraught. You weren’t thinking clearly. You weren’t yourself.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away.
“Oh, so now I’m not even responsible for my sex life,” she said flippantly. “Great. So I’m just this flighty, irresponsible girl who can’t think for herself. I manage to stay a virgin for twenty three years and suddenly you think I’m a slave to my passions.”
“I never said that --”
“And what is your excuse? I’m such a femme fatal, you couldn’t stop yourself?”
He took a deep breath. “I love you, Kelly. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
“There’s no need to perjure yourself.” She threw a pair of shoes on top of her folded clothes. “You’re only saying that because you feel like you have to. If there’s one thing I admire about you it’s your honesty.”