His Wife for a While (23 page)

Thoughts of the joyous late afternoon they'd spent making love in the wild outdoors only seemed to depress him more. No longer would he find in
Chelsea
a confidante, someone in whom he could confide his doubts about the business as he had shared with his wife that day. No longer would he find in her a lover who surpassed all his erotic imaginings and fulfilled every silent yearning.

All the frustration he felt was expressed in a slow, dispirited exhalation.

"Yes, sir," Aunt May said. "You sure do look like a man in love."

He clenched his fist on the desk top. "And now she's leaving. I don't know where she's going. I don't even think
she
knows yet. If she does, she hasn't…"

"So, you told her how you feel and she doesn't feel the same?"

"I didn't tell her anything," Ben said.

"Why not?"

That one simple question stumped him for a moment and he sat there with what he was afraid May would describe as a "dumb" look on his face.

"Well," he began, his mind still churning. "I've come to know Chels enough to realize that…" he thought about the misery she'd suffered as a child, how she'd been taken from her abusive mother, how the social workers had lied to her again and again "…actions speak louder to her than words."

He narrowed his eyes at May, as another reason came to mind. "Besides, if I told her how I feel, she simply wouldn't believe me."

May raised her chubby hands into the air. "Well, why in tarnation wouldn't she?" she asked indignantly.

"You see," Ben explained, "
Chelsea
's mother lost her parental rights when
Chelsea
was just a little girl. You wouldn't believe how she was treated, Aunt May. It was horrible what she went through. Everybody deserves to be loved by their mother. But
Chelsea
wasn't. She's carrying around some heavy baggage." He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't know. No, that's not true… I
do
know. She believes that since her mother didn't love her, then no one else will, either."

"Well, that's just plain stupid, if you ask me," May commented, with an unladylike snort.

Ben realized he'd been doing a lot of head shaking, but he couldn't help it. The frustration was overwhelming. "Somewhere along the line, some asinine social worker put the idea into her head."

"Now, don't degrade every social worker because of one bad apple," May said, shifting her bulk in the chair. "It takes a special kind of person to dedicate his or her life to helping people."

"I understand that," Ben said impatiently. He didn't want to talk about social workers. "But this jerk really messed with
Chelsea
's head. Along with the fact that her mother abused her, treated her like crap, and the system took her away from the one lady who wanted her."

He heaved another sigh. "It all adds up to
Chelsea
feeling that she doesn't deserve to be loved."

"And again I say that's just plain stupid."

"I know it is," Ben replied. "Try telling that to
Chelsea
."

"No,
you
need to tell her."

Ben felt his frustration boiling over. "I already told you, May. She won't listen to empty words."

"But your words won't be empty," May retorted. "Your words will be full of meaning."

"Chels won't see that," Ben muttered, feeling hopeless and helpless.

"Then
do
something that will show her how you feel," May snapped.

"Like what?"

May gave a disgusted
tisk
. "I feel like I'm back in grade school and there's a pop quiz in math. You cannot peek over at my paper, Ben, because I don't know the answer." She rose and went to the door. "You'll have to figure this one out on your own."

"But wait a minute," he said.

"All I do know," May said, unheeding of his plea as she padded toward the door, "is that you have to let
Chelsea
know how you feel. Whether you tell her or show her, is up to you."

"Aunt May!" Ben called.

She turned back one more time, but not in order to listen to him. "Because if you don't," she continued her lecture, "you're going to lose her and your baby." Her faded green eyes glared at him. "And I've grown fond of the idea of getting to know my great-great- grandniece or nephew."

Her gaze took on a critical gleam as she added, "I only have one question before I go. If you haven't discussed your feelings with
Chelsea
, how do you know how she feels? How do you know she really wants to leave?"

"That's two questions." Ben nearly growled the words.

"Oh, my," May said innocently, her wrinkled face splitting with a wide grin. "You would have aced that pop quiz, wouldn't you?"

May didn't give him time to think of a rejoinder before she closed the door, and for the second time that morning Ben felt completely and utterly alone.

He picked up the pencil and tapped the eraser on the desk.

Aunt May did have a point. He didn't know how
Chelsea
felt about him or their marriage.

She cared about him. Or at least she cared about the business. She had shown him that, when she'd offered to give him the money that it had taken her years to save, money that had been meant to settle her and the baby in another part of the country.

But then again, maybe her offer had nothing to do with him. Hadn't she claimed her motivation had been to save the jobs of the men who were employed by him?

Ben leaned back in his chair as a realization struck him.
Chelsea
had written out the check after she'd found out she was pregnant. His brow furrowed deeply as he considered all the implications.

She knew she would be leaving soon, but she'd tried to give him her money anyway. Why?

Did the gesture mean that she really didn't want to leave Reed's Orchard? Or was he reading something between the lines that really wasn't there? He rested his elbow on the desktop and absently rubbed his jaw.

He accepted the fact that it was hard for her to trust. He even understood why. He had tried so hard to be worthy of it. But maybe the problem wasn't him at all. Maybe she didn't trust herself enough to confide in him.

The thought spurred another, more optimistic one; had her actions spoken louder than her words? Could he surmise from
Chelsea
's offering of her money, that her feelings for him ran deeper than what she chose to reveal?

At the beginning of their relationship, Ben well remembered
Chelsea
's cold, clinical idea that he was simply a sperm donor who would fertilize her egg, give her a much-wanted child. He knew that her opinion had warmed a little. Hell, there had been times when she had sizzled. He chuckled.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he wondered if he was crazy to think that she might feel something for him.

One thing was certain, he had to know
Chelsea
's true feelings, one way or the other. And he simply had to let her know his. If he didn't, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

But how? Simply telling her was out of the question. He knew very well that she'd never believe mere words. How could he show
Chelsea
exactly what was in his heart? How could he make her see what she had come to mean to him?

It had to be something big. Something so big that she couldn't mistake his meaning. What could he…?

He sat up straight as an idea struck him with force. Of course! It was perfect.

Deftly, he flipped through the telephone file that sat on his desk and stopped when he found his lawyer's name and number. He punched the buttons on the phone and listened to ringing on the other end of the line.

After speaking to his lawyer's secretary, Ben was put through and he explained what he wanted.

"Can it be done right away, George?" Ben asked, his excitement rising. "I don't care what it costs," Ben responded. "I want it done this week."

What was he saying? This was a crazy time to be frivolous with money. The loss of the peach crop was a terrible blow to...

Hell,
Chelsea
was worth it. What were a few hundred dollars when he was vying for the love of his life? Crazy problems called for crazy solutions, didn't they?

Ben replaced the receiver, a tiny smile bending one corner of his mouth. He could go into her office right now and tell her what he'd done. But he wanted to wait. He wanted to have the proof in hand when he told her how he felt about her.

He could wait the few days, a week at most, that it would take to get the papers in order. Until then, he'd simply have to hold his tongue and relish the thought of her reaction.

~  ~  ~

After work,
Chelsea
let herself into Ben's house for what she knew would be the last time. She'd have to remember to return his key.

She lugged her large suitcase out of the bottom of the closet and began to pack her things. Her chest felt empty and hollow as she folded a pair of jeans and tucked them in the case.

The desolation that filled her became overwhelming. She hated the thought of leaving, but she knew it was inevitable. Keeping up her end of the deal was just as important as keeping her pride.

She'd nearly lost every shred of her dignity this morning when Ben had cornered her about why she had offered to loan him money. Luckily, the threatened workers had come to mind and she'd seized the excuse with both hands. She'd blatantly lied in order to avoid telling him she loved him. She hated being deceitful, but in that instant she hadn't felt she had any other choice.

Life without him would be desolate. But she'd survive.

Vivid memories of her nights with him called to her from Ben's bedroom and she couldn't help herself… she answered. Tossing aside the cotton camp shirt she'd been folding, she moved with the slow, measured pace of a specter to the doorway of his room.

She stopped short, not daring to cross the threshold. The breath left her body in a hushed sigh at the sight of the bed. Here was the spot where he had taught her what passion was all about. Here was the spot that called to her with irresistible memories, memories of what it was like to make love with the man who meant everything to her.

There would be no more of those nights, as there would be no more picnics, no more walks, no more long talks. He had become more than just her lover, he had become her friend. Now all she had to look forward to were lonely days. And even lonelier nights.

Ben had taught her what love was all about. More than that, he had shown her what it meant to have a true friend. She would miss him.

Hot, salty tears welled in her eyes and slid heedlessly down her face. She pressed her fingers tight against her lips to hold back the sadness that threatened to burst from her. How was she going to survive without Ben?

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, in an effort to get control of her emotions. Emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years because she wanted to avoid the pain. Emotions that Ben had inexorably drawn from her. Emotions with which he'd forced her to become reacquainted.