Forgotten Honeymoon (14 page)

With one fluid motion, he sat up, gathered
his clothes, and began to dress. “You’re not the first woman to
love two men at the same time.”

She reached for him, to bring him back to
bed. “But I don’t love Nigel any more.”

“You did then.”

Were they never going to get past that
weekend? “I thought we were starting over with a clean slate.”

He stood up, zipping his pants. “You’re the
one asking too many questions.”

Kelly dropped her hand back to the bed. He
was right. She couldn’t have it both ways. She tried again. “Lars,
please don’t go.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely,
“I’ll say good night.”

She couldn’t believe what she heard. How
could he leave her after what they’d just shared? “Aren’t you going
to sleep here?”

“If you want me to,” he said coolly. “But
there’s something I need to do for work.”

“It’s after midnight,” she protested.

“Then I’ll say good morning.” He nodded
briefly, then left the room, closing the door quietly behind
him.

Kelly hurled the alarm clock at the door. She
shouted, “How can we start over if you’re working all the
time?”

#

Lars stared unseeingly at the computer screen
before him.

I love you, Lars
. Kelly’s voice echoed
in his mind. Love was an overused word, and he couldn’t fathom its
meaning.

How many times had his parents told him they
loved him? But each of them tried to push their parental
responsibilities onto the other. “You’re his father. You take him
to his baseball games.” “It’s not my weekend, it’s yours.” “Yes, I
know I agreed to take him, but this week is inconvenient.”

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.”