She bought some juice at the student store, then noticed a sign with an arrow pointing toward the Memorial Rose Garden. It was on the main path, and having a hunch, she followed it. The path soon forked, one way toward the English department buildings, the other toward the hillside. It was an easy choice, because that was toward the rose garden.
The campus was built on rolling slopes with commons all around and a beautiful view of the Columbia River off in the distance. She sipped her juice, never getting tired of looking at that river. Wandering farther and farther from the buildings, still following the arrows, she got lost in her thoughts. What if Leif funded the Sedona project as an easy way to let her go? What would she do then? Soon overcome with amazing scents—fragrant roses—she dropped that line of insecure thinking and found herself at the secluded garden on the outermost portion of the college.
And there she saw it—a beautifully carved wooden bench. Unlike the other two across town, this one was ornate and girlie. It was also a swing hanging from a rustic and sturdy frame made entirely from tree branches.
The abundance of roses scented the air, almost burning her nostrils, or maybe it was the rush of emotion fizzing through her body on seeing the swing. Walking solemnly toward the bench, she sensed an almost sacred aura around it. This was Ellen’s. Leif had built and put it here with every ounce of love he possessed. She stepped closer to read the fancy calligraphy carved on a plaque resting atop a varnished tree-stump pedestal. “In memory of Ellen Andersen, the love of my life. Never to be forgotten.”
The words hit like a kick behind the knees. Marta needed to sit down but didn’t dare sit on Ellen’s bench. She rushed away, toward the granite water fountain, leaned over for a drink as her own tears spilled into the water, then found a standard metal bench to recover.
One specific early conversation with Leif came to mind.
“How come you’ve never—” She’d ventured to ask a question that hadn’t mattered nearly as much then as it did now.
Somehow, he’d known exactly what she was asking. “Remarried?”
It had turned out she wasn’t the only one who could read minds and cut people off midsentence. “Because I can’t imagine ever replacing her. I don’t see how anyone can ever measure up. No woman wants to settle for replacement status.”
Marta finally hoped for the love of her life, the kind of love her parents shared, but Leif had already found and lost his. She was pregnant with another man’s baby, yet she had the crazy notion that a man like Leif, as loyal and devoted as they came, could see her for what she was—a woman in love with him. Someone willing to venture into a new life together. With him. If he was open to it.
From the start Marta must have come off as a seductress to Leif, preaching free love without strings. She wouldn’t deny it was about time the man lived again, and she took pride in being a part of his reawakening. But only looking for a distraction to ward off the sting of Lawrence’s rejection at the time, she hadn’t bargained on falling for Leif. Now the big question was, would he take a chance on loving her and the baby, or was he even capable of it?
She glanced over her shoulder at the magnificent swing, the huge reminder of what stood between her and Leif, then looked down at her stomach, the other growing reminder why the odds were stacked against them.
*
Leif drove and drove. He had to keep moving, to occupy his mind, or his thoughts would eat at him. Marta had been happy and charming during the interview. Full of life and hope. Hell, she already had a job lined up back home. Why in the world would a bright light of a woman like that want to tie herself down with a ghost like him?
She’d practically had to pry him out of his rut, but damn if dangling sex like a carrot hadn’t finally done the trick. Was that all that it was to her? And there was nothing wrong with that if it was. He was the jerk who’d projected emotions into the mix. They’d had a great thing going, the two of them, but he’d slipped up, let something that was never supposed to happen again occur—he’d fallen in love. Keeping it quiet was a cop-out, and now he’d have to tell her and take the consequences because he had to know one way or the other how she felt about him before she left. But the biggest question of all was, did he have the nerve to love again when life was a gamble and no one, not even Marta with her mind-reading ways, could predict what the future held? Did he have the strength to deal with losing love again?
Why did he feel as if he’d just been punched?
He drove in circles around a small park, then on to the houseboat section of town as he made plans on how and when to tell her how he felt. He couldn’t call himself a man if he didn’t. By his calculations, because the big reveal was planned for Monday next week, she’d be out of here by early December. Which gave him exactly this weekend to make his move.
His cell phone rang. Only then did he realize he’d been driving around aimlessly for a couple of hours. The dogs hadn’t even complained.
“Leif? It’s Marta. Listen, Manny Ortega has asked me to join him for dinner tonight, so I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
He did his best not to sound disappointed. After all, she was a freewheeling, independent woman who didn’t need a sad sack of a guy dragging her down. “Hey, that sounds great. Have a good time.”
Well, he could check off tonight.
Maybe he better wait until after the big mural reveal before he announced how he really felt about her. The last thing he wanted to do was compete with her painting. Or come off like a jealous, crazed lover. When Leif finally came clean with his feelings, he wanted Marta’s undivided attention.
In the meantime he had the night to get busy with his carving for Marta—a chunk of teakwood that had mysteriously taken on a life of its own. Then he’d get to work on the crib. It was actually a good thing she wouldn’t be home tonight because he had so much to do.
Hours later, Leif lay in bed unable to sleep. It was almost one and Marta hadn’t come home yet. He trusted her when she’d explained that Manny was a friend from her hometown. But what bothered him was how obviously she missed home. Manny had asked her to dinner and she’d leaped at the chance.
He heard the front door open. The dogs stirred and lightly whined. “It’s okay, guys.” The three of them lay quiet and listened as steps came up the stairs.
Leif’s heart stuttered with disappointment when he realized she’d gone on to her own room.
*
The next morning felt like going back to square one, day one. Leif met up with Marta in the kitchen, a tentative smile on her face.
“Good morning,” she said, already dressed in her work overalls. “I’m going to have to spend the rest of the week working like a madwoman on all of the finishing touches to the mural.”
“I’d offer to help, but I promised Lilly I’d work on her teahouse and get it done before her parents come to visit for New Year’s.”
“I understand.”
He found a sponge and wiped up some crumbs on the counter. “Got home late last night.”
She nodded. “We got carried away with gossip from back home.” She poured cereal into a bowl, cut up a banana on top and added milk. “The crazy man wants to stay on and film the reveal and interview some of the locals.” She spooned a bite and crunched. “Also, I asked Manny to help me put my shop for sale or lease since he has so many connections in Sedona. From now on I just want to concentrate on painting.”
“When are you planning to leave?”
“My flight is a couple of days after the unveiling.”
He poured coffee from a curiously quivering carafe. She’d already bought her ticket home, even though he’d invited her to stay on awhile. “So soon?”
She touched his back; he turned and found her unsure gaze concentrating on his eyes. “I have a lot to take care of back home. It’s been building up ever since I’ve been here. I can’t dump all the responsibilities on my assistants. And I need to see my own doctor—not that I don’t appreciate Kent’s doing the obstetrical care.”
“I understand.” At least he was trying to understand. There was that lousy word again. It really was useless because no way, with all the trying in the world, did he understand. Not by a long shot.
How had things morphed so abruptly into this awkward, giant step back to the beginning? He took her hand and gently rubbed the palm with his thumb. “I missed you last night.”
Her eyes cast downward. “It was late. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Something had changed between them, and he was clueless. “You wouldn’t have.”
Her thick lashes lifted, and those mink-warm eyes gazed earnestly into his. “Come sleep in my bed tonight.”
His thumb stopped circling the meat of her palm. Why the sudden test? He shut down. Went still. “Not sure I’m ready.”
“Why not, Leif?”
His knee-jerk reaction was to say, “You know why,” but he bit it back. A long silence stretched on as she searched his eyes for an honest answer. One he wasn’t prepared to give. He ground his molars tightly together while the elephant sat smack in the middle of the room.
Ellen.
Marta deserved an answer.
“I guess I’m still not ready to go there.” To love and lose, to withstand gut-wrenching pain, emptiness so deep I can’t breathe. Not knowing how to go on living.
She canted her head as if his words hurt her ears. “I see.”
Disappointment lingered in the kitchen like a stale coffee. She’d tested him. He’d failed. He wasn’t prepared to make the leap. Would he ever get over the loss that came with love?
But they both had obligations and work to do. He couldn’t deal with the major issue still keeping them apart in a two-minute conversation on the go in the kitchen, especially when Marta seemed to already have one foot back home in Sedona. Already half-gone.
“Will you be home tonight?” Like a fool in love, he still craved her company, but he let her remove her hand from his.
“I plan to be.”
“I’ll grill something for dinner.”
“Okay.”
Civil, and sad. They went about their day independent from each other.
That night Marta apologized to Leif over the phone. Manny had asked her to take him to Lincoln’s restaurant, saying he wanted to experience the nightlife in Heartlandia. Desi had even agreed to play the piano, even though it wasn’t the weekend. Manny planned to film the scene for his show, too.
The truth was, Marta had been asking Leif to take her there for weeks, especially after the engagement party. Leif had figured he had plenty of time to take Marta, and honestly, he liked keeping her all to himself. Turned out he was wrong about having all the time in the world, and his selfishness had come back to kick him in the teeth.
Marta didn’t ask Leif to join them, and it cut deep.
“I won’t be late,” she said over the phone.
“Stay out as long as you want,” he said, meaning to sound perfectly fine with her enjoying herself without him, but it didn’t come out anywhere near the way he’d meant. The only positive point out of the situation that night was he got a lot of work done on the cradle.
*
After sleeping in her room the rest of the week, obviously knowing Leif wouldn’t go there, on Sunday Marta asked him to help with the final stage of the mural.
Because it was a cloudy morning, he wore a sweatshirt and she a bulky fisherman’s sweater she’d bought from a knitting store in town. They bought takeout coffee, one high octane, the other decaf, and croissants from the local bakery, though Leif didn’t have much of an appetite. From the way Marta picked at her croissant, she didn’t, either.
“Elke got the bright idea to hang a huge curtain over the mural and to rig up a way to draw it up for the reveal. We bought all of this inexpensive material yesterday, enough to cover every inch of the walls. I’ll need you to take down the barrier for good.”
“What about the risk of someone defacing the mural?”
“Elke has arranged for school security tonight.”
“But what about in the future?”
“We agreed it’s a painting meant to be shared with all, not kept locked away.”
As if on cue, Elke and Ben arrived by car, apparently having the same idea as Leif and Marta from the looks of takeout coffee cups and a bag in their hands.
“Hi!” Elke said, excitement brightening her face.
As they greeted each other, several more people arrived to help with the day’s project, padding the distance ever expanding between them.
For the next several hours Leif and Ben broke down the sliding wood barrier. Elke and Marta used the scaffolding and held panel after panel of the sky-blue shiny polyester material in place as a male student used an industrial-strength stapler to tack it to the wood trim.
Afterward, several students from the theater arts and set design classes stitched the panels together and rigged up a way to raise the curtain using triple-braided cord every five feet. Someone explained to Leif the technique they’d used was makeshift Roman shade, whatever that meant. Leif nodded and pretended he understood. The end result was a scalloped valance accentuating the beautiful mixture of colors in Marta’s rich and masterful mural, and Leif was impressed with the resourceful students.
The group applauded at the first rehearsal, and Leif snapped a panoramic picture on his phone, making sure to include Marta standing on the sideline, a burst of pride sharpening her gorgeous smile. Then he walked over and waited his turn to hug her.
“This is so fantastic,” he whispered over her ear, loving the way she felt, intensifying how much he’d missed holding her. She held tightly, too.
Because of the group gathered around, Leif only kissed Marta lightly, but her lips seemed to welcome his. At least it was something. They all ordered fast food for lunch as they worked on the finishing touches, and by the time they’d finished and arrived home, it was dark.
Marta was exhausted, excited and a nervous wreck about Monday.
After a light dinner, Leif brought her some herbal tea—her favorite stress-relief chamomile blend—and a couple of oatmeal cookies where she sat in the living room.
“Thank you,” she said, glancing up from her laptop computer.
He kissed the top of her head instead of her mouth, which was where he wanted to kiss her. “Anything I can do?” He hoped she’d catch his double entendre.
“Are you good at writing speeches?”
Well, that had fallen flat. He laughed softly, ruefully. “No. But if you need help relaxing I’ve got a few ideas.” Not above trying to make his point a second time, he went for the obvious.
With every cell in his body he wanted her, but for the past week she had given him no hint of a sign that she wanted him.
As expected, she didn’t respond to his less-than-subtle suggestion about making love to ease her tension, but she continued to stare at the computer screen, typing, deleting, tsk-tsking and typing more. Loss sneaked into his life like an insidious vapor, sucking the air out of him one breath at a time.
He couldn’t very well carve with her in the room, so he went to the garage and put the finishing touches on the cradle, sanded it and prepared to stain the wood the color of Marta’s eyes—walnut. He racked his brain trying to figure out how he and Marta had gotten derailed. What had happened? Had he wanted too little? Had she wanted more?
He’d tested the waters, like Kent had suggested, letting her know the door was open for her to stay on. But he hadn’t mentioned the baby and, damn it, he should have.
Days had gone by, they’d started sleeping in separate rooms and in a few more days she’d be gone.
He worked furiously on his project and got lost with his own style of art, then was surprisingly happy with the outcome. Next he wanted to get back to the hand sculpture, to start sanding if he hoped to complete and stain it before she left, but not tonight. It was late and he still had to walk the dogs. Tomorrow was a big day for Marta and he needed to be there with his full support.
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After caring for the dogs, he went back into the house to find Marta had gone to her room for the night. Instinct told him to go in, climb in the bed with her and hold her all night, but the nagging sense of being shut out stamped down his true desire. She obviously considered that the safe zone. One big question came to mind: When had their “just for now” turned to “is this the end?”
*
Monday morning, Marta dressed in a long colorful skirt with a white blouse and loose beige jacket to disguise the pregnancy. She wore a pair of silver earrings she’d bought at the craft fair and, on a whim, decided to leave her hair down with an ivory-colored comb holding one side back.
When they met up in the kitchen, she saw that Leif had put on a tweed sport coat, white button-down shirt and a new pair of jeans. Her pulse fluttered, admiring how handsome he looked, how rugged. When she noticed he wore the moon-face necklace on the outside of his shirt, she kissed his cheek.
“You ready for this?” he asked. “Your big day.”
“Not nearly enough.”
“The mural is beautiful. It’s perfect. What are you worried about?”
“Artist insecurity, I guess. We depend on what others think of our work. I have to make a living.”
“Realistically all it takes is one person who believes in you.”
One person with a lot of cash. The sincerity in his eyes touched her soul, but she had to stop him from saying one more word. He’d said the door was open to stay on, but she was through with benefactors with benefits. “Been there. Done that, Leif. All I got was pregnant.” She couldn’t open the door to dependence again. She needed to stand on her own two feet. To prove to herself she could do it before she could be worthy of a good man’s love.
“About that…” he started.
As he spoke, she inadvertently glanced at her watch. She was running late. “What? I’m sorry, Leif. I wish we had more time to talk now, but we’ve really got to get going.”
She saw his eyes go dark, then shut down. Realizing she was the cause of that look hurt like a knife to the heart, but the clock ticked on.
He quickly recovered and, gentleman that he was, opened the back door for her to step outside first. The dreary weather from yesterday had moved on, leaving a clear, sunny, late-autumn sky, though her outlook as far as Leif was concerned felt socked in with heavy gray clouds. He opened her door and helped her up into the truck cab, then walked around to the other side. Marta took out her laptop and brought up her speech, anything to get her mind off how badly their love affair had turned out. First she’d wanted more from him, now he wanted more of her. Which, because of time constraints, she couldn’t give. Another lesson to be learned: nostrings affairs were bogus. They didn’t exist. Someone always got hurt. What a lousy idea she’d had. Yes, Momma, I get it. Remember?
Falling for the Mom-to-Be Page 16