The Last Bachelor (9 page)

Ginger had worked from the time she was eleven, mopping the floors in a grocery store in the evening until midnight. Her mother had begun charging groceries there, the cost of which the owner deducted from Ginger's salary. Though her mother had wanted her to quit school and work full-time, Ginger had refused. The only reason she was able to stay in school was that her mother slept until noon.

When her mother had made the decision to come to America, Ginger held her breath wondering if she would accompany her mother. When her mother had agreed that Ginger should come, Ginger had dreamed of a different life.

Her life had been different, but not what she'd expected.

Her mother had discovered education was required until her daughter turned seventeen. Ginger had loved the school and the classes. Knowing she might not get to stay her senior year, she'd worked hard to get as much out of school as she could. Some of the kids made fun of her clothes and her accent, but she ignored them. She found a part-time job after school without telling her mother, who seldom cared where
Ginger was. Ginger spent a little of her money on clothes—she learned about garage sales and bought secondhand—and saved the rest. The shop owner paid her in cash, which she carefully hid in her room.

She got to stay in school her senior year and actually graduate, though there was no senior ring or dress for the prom. She treated herself to a good hair-cut—a short pageboy that was her big expenditure.

But immediately after school ended, her mother had suggested she marry Leo, her stepfather's boss. The old man undressed her with his eyes every time he came into the house.

Ginger had gathered up her savings and struck out on her own, with no help from family. But then, her family was nothing like Joe's loving parents who had opened their home and hearts to her.

Ginger entered Joe's old bedroom, now the “best” guest room. It was lovely, with three windows looking out on the backyard, covered by sheer curtains that floated a little from a breeze. The king-size bed was piled with pillows and covered by a beautiful homemade quilt that Ginger stroked with pleasure. Such exquisite artistry. She pulled back the quilt, not wanting to harm it in any way, and lay down on the violet sheets under it. How could she not be happy in such a lovely room? How could she not feel safe in such a warm, inviting home? How could she ever be unhappy surrounded by that new concept—a family who helped you?

With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

 

Joe and his dad chatted calmly about things his brothers were doing, knowing if they discussed Joe and Ginger's situation, they'd only have to repeat it for his mom. When she came back into the kitchen, Joe cleared his throat. “I really appreciate your support, Mom, Dad.”

Ed looked surprised. “Well, of course we're helping you.”

“Some families don't behave that way. Like Ginger's mother.”

“What do you mean?” Vivian asked in surprise. “I'm sure her mother would do her best for Ginger if she were here.”

“No, Mom. I think her mother betrayed Ginger.” He told them about the phone call from a woman with an accent, determining where they lived. “I'm pretty sure that was Ginger's mom.”

Vivian stared at them, then covered her face with her hands. “Oh, no! How could her mother do that?”

“Ginger seems to expect very little from her mother. The strange thing about Ginger is how much she seems to be willing to do for others.”

“She's a sweet girl,” Ed said. “A good addition to the family, boy.”

Guilt filled Joe. He already knew it was going to kill him when Ginger left him. He'd made a miscalculation when he'd thought he could pretend to be her husband to help her and then walk away with no damage. But he didn't want to hurt his family. “Don't get too attached to her.”

“What do you mean?” Vivian asked in alarm.
“Do you think they'll succeed in taking her away? We'll get Justin to protect her.”

“I'll protect her!” Joe protested, not wanting to put that responsibility on anyone else. After all, he was her husband…for now.

“I need to tell you something, but you won't be able to tell anyone, even if it means lying.” Joe watched his parents' faces. He knew how much they'd emphasized honesty as he was growing up.

Ed looked him straight in the eye. “Go ahead and tell us.”

“I married Ginger to help her. She's—The INS was going to take her away. I didn't think it was fair. I've always admired Ginger and I offered to marry her to help her get her green card.”

Vivian gasped. “Oh, dear!”

He hurriedly added, “She's beautiful, of course, but she has such a genuine goodness about her. She's so hardworking. She was working seventy hours a week. She rode the bus or walked everywhere. Her apartment was one room and she slept on the couch. Helping her seemed such an easy thing to do.”

Vivian, after staring at him, relaxed with a smile. “But it's not easy now, is it?” she asked softly, leaning forward.

“Well, no. I didn't realize she would be in such trouble.”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it. You love her, don't you?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders, trying to avoid such a confession. “She's a good person.”

“Yes, she is,” Ed agreed, staring at his wife, as if he didn't quite comprehend what his wife was getting at.

Vivian just kept smiling at her son. Joe tried to look away, but his mother had always been good about eliciting a confession. Finally, he said, “Okay, I love her. But that doesn't change our agreement. I'm an old man to Ginger. She appreciates my help and does anything she thinks I want her to do. But she doesn't think of me as her husband. Not really.”

“You mean the two of you haven't—” Ed shifted his eyes to look at his wife, then turned back to Joe. “You haven't, uh, made love?”

“No. And when the INS asks you if our marriage is real, you'll have to lie.”

“No, we won't, Joe,” Vivian said firmly.

“Yes, you will.”

“No. I've seen the marriage certificate. I know you love her. And I don't ask what happens behind closed doors. I'll just say you'd better be married or I would never let you share a room in my house.”

“But, Mom, we're not sharing a room.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Vivian assured him with a twinkle in her eyes.

J
oe climbed the stairs slowly, not that he wasn't anxious to see Ginger. He could admit to himself that he missed her, worried about her. But he couldn't admit that to Ginger. He was her friend, nothing more.

The friend who was going to wake her up for dinner, now that she'd slept the afternoon away.

He opened the door slowly. “Ginger?” he called from the doorway. “Ginger, Mom's making dinner. Ready to come down?”

No movement. He called a little louder. “Ginger!” He crossed the room until he stood by the wide, comfortable bed. He reached out and gently touched her arm. “Ginger?”

She opened her big blue eyes and smiled at him.

“Hi, Joe. Is something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart. Mom is fixing dinner and thought you might want to have a few minutes to pull yourself together. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Oh, I should've offered to help,” she said, sliding out of the bed. She was fully clothed and Joe smiled ruefully. He shouldn't have been thinking about the possibility of her being in her underwear. But he had.

As soon as she was standing up, she carefully made the bed so it looked as good as it had when she entered.

Would she leave his life the same way, with no sign of her having been part of it? No, he knew that wouldn't happen. He would never forget Ginger. Her innocence, her goodness, her beauty. “Ginger,” he began, intending to tell her they would have to share the room.

Ginger interrupted, “I think it would be rude to eat dinner without helping. We can talk later on.” She hurried out the door and down the stairs.

Joe stood there, in the silence of the room he'd grown up in. Things had changed a lot in twenty-five years, since he was nine and sure the world would be a wonderful place. Now he wanted to make it a wonderful place for
Ginger,
with or without him.

He slid his hands into his pockets. Ginger hadn't had the advantages he'd received—wonderful parents, four loving brothers, a quality education, a good job—but it hadn't stopped Ginger from trying. He'd find a way to help her. He'd keep her here in America. Somehow.

 

By the end of dinner Vivian's warmth had made Ginger feel at home. It hadn't taken long to do the dishes, with all the conveniences. And the friendship Vivian extended made it an enjoyable experience.

“Let's take a coffee tray into the living room,” Vivian suggested. “Ed likes his coffee while he watches his favorite shows.”

“I don't even know if Joe has favorite shows,” Ginger remarked. “Does he?”

“I don't know, dear. He hasn't lived at home in years. We'll ask him.”

Once they were in the room, Vivian interrupted Ed. “Joe, Ginger wants to know if you have favorite shows you like to watch.”

Both Joe and his father frowned. Then Joe said, “What difference does it make?”

“I just wondered,” Ginger said. “Your mother knows what shows your father likes.”

Joe grinned. “Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'm not that committed to any television show.”

“What do you do with yourself?” Ginger asked.

“Tonight, I've been talking about building my dream house. Now that I've decided to live here, it's time to start it.”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“I have plans. Want to see them?”

Ginger was thrilled to be included in Joe's future. It wouldn't last, but for a little while at least, she was part of Joe's future. Part of a family.

A couple of hours later, Ed and Vivian said good-night. Joe stood and held out his hand to Ginger. “Ready to go to bed? It's been a pretty active day.”

“Yes, it's not often you get kidnapped,” Ginger said with a weary smile. “But I love your house, Joe.”

“I like the changes you suggested. You and Mom were great.”

“Your mother, mostly. She's very good. And her cooking is wonderful.”

“She does a lot in the community, too. But I'm afraid you can't go out with her. I want you to stay hidden.”

She frowned. “Won't that mean you have to stay hidden, too?”

“Well, for a few days.”

“I don't like this. It's not fair to you.”

He stared at her. “Ginger, my job is to keep you safe. Don't forget that. Even after you get your green card, when you'll have the right to do what you want, I'll still keep an eye on you.”

“Joe, you are so good to me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then she turned and hurried up the stairs.

Joe stood at the bottom of the stairs until he remembered that he was going to the same bedroom. And he hadn't told Ginger yet.

He hurried up the stairs.

The bedroom door was already closed. He tapped lightly and called, “Ginger.”

She opened the door immediately. “Yes, Joe?”

“Uh, Ginger, this is my bedroom, too. Mom thinks we share a bed since we're married, and we can't tell her otherwise.”

He watched as Ginger stared at him, shock in her eyes. “Ginger, I don't mean we have to—I mean, of course I won't expect you to—I can sleep on the floor.”

Ginger looked at him, then at the bed and the floor. “The floor is hard.”

“Yeah, but I'll manage. I'll take a pillow and a blanket and—”

“No, of course not. It's a big bed. We can share without—We can manage.”

“You're sure? It will be more comfortable for me, but—”

“You are sacrificing enough for me, Joe. It's the least I can do.”

Joe moved into the room cautiously, as if he thought she'd change her mind. “Do you intend to take a bath tonight?”

“I'd like to, if it's not too much trouble.”

“No, that'll be fine. I'll unpack while you bathe.”

She quickly took some things out of her suitcase and hurried into the bathroom, as if she felt safe in there. Joe unpacked his own clothes, using the chest of drawers. Then he unpacked Ginger's clothes also, trying to avoid lingering over the silky things his mother had insisted she buy. Imagining Ginger in those items created too much tension.

When Ginger came out, wrapped in his own terry-cloth robe, he resisted looking at her. “I put your things in that dresser. You can put your dirty clothes in the hamper in the bathroom. Mom will get them.”

“I will do our laundry.”

“Okay, you can get them in the morning. Or maybe I will. I can do laundry, too, you know.”

She nodded. “You can have the bathroom now.”

“Thanks. Uh, what side of the bed do you want?”

She hesitated. “If you don't mind, I would like the side by the window. I like to see the stars at night.”

“Okay.” He crossed to the drawers where he'd put his belongings, suddenly realizing he didn't have any pajamas. Normally he slept in his underwear. What was he going to do now?

A knock on the door stopped him. He opened the door and discovered his mother waiting. “Yes, Mom?”

“Do you need to borrow your father's pajama bottoms, dear?”

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Mom. I'll be right there.”

He closed the door and faced Ginger. “Um, I won't be long, but go ahead and go to sleep if you're tired.”
Please go to sleep.
He didn't want to deal with the temptation of whatever she wore under the robe. If his mother picked it out, he didn't think he'd be able to resist. She was a wicked woman when it came time to tempt a man.

When he returned ten minutes later, he saw Ginger on the side of the bed by the window. She was clutching the edge of the mattress as if she feared she would fall off. Her eyes were tightly shut.

“Ginger, are you all right?”

She nodded her head, not speaking.

“Ginger, I can sleep on the floor if it will make you feel better.”

“No, there's a lot of room.”

She was right, but he was definitely attracted to
the area she was occupying. He could see baby-blue straps on her shoulders and could only imagine what was beneath the sheet. Slowly, he lifted the sheet and slid under the covers.

If anything, he felt more tension when he couldn't see her. Because he could feel her warm body even though it was at least three feet away. He'd never realized how big a king-size bed was until tonight.

“Ginger, if you don't relax, you'll never go to sleep.” He waited until she slowly did so. “It's going to be all right, Ginger, I promise.”

“I just didn't want to cause you any trouble, Joe. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure,” he whispered.

 

Ginger woke up just as the sun was coming over the rooftops, shining directly into the windows of Joe's bedroom. It was almost April, and in south Texas, that was warm, bright air, bathing the world in gold. She lay there, thinking about the twists and turns in her life. She couldn't imagine being more comfortable, more relaxed anywhere in the world. Joe's arm tightened around her—Joe's arm?

She froze, not daring to take a breath. Joe had his arm around her. It felt nice, safe. But, of course, he must have moved in his sleep. He couldn't realize what he was doing. He'd be embarrassed if he awoke now. She inched away from him, sliding out of the bed.

She watched him shift under the covers, but he settled down quickly. Holding her breath, she tiptoed
away from the bed, grabbing her robe on her way. Well, Joe's robe, actually, but the only one she had. She slipped into it and tied the belt. Then she crossed to the drawers where he'd put her clothes. When she'd found a pair of jeans and a blouse, she carried them into the bathroom. All the time she changed and brushed her hair, she thought of Joe, lying in bed, sleeping peacefully. She wished she were there with him. She wished she could wake up with his arms around her, and simply turn over and cuddle with him.

She knew enough about men to know Joe probably wouldn't complain about sex. But he would complain about being caught and tied to a woman. Joe didn't want that. Otherwise he would have married long ago, like his brothers. She couldn't do that to him.

She entered the bedroom to find Joe still sleeping. She moved away from the bed, so she wouldn't be tempted. Instead, she hurried to the door and opened it, slipping outside and closing the door. She headed for the kitchen.

Putting on a pot of coffee, she began organizing breakfast. It was only six-thirty, but she figured Ed and Vivian would be up soon. Sure enough, half an hour later, she heard sounds upstairs. By that time, she had cinnamon rolls in the oven. When Ed and Vivian came down the stairs, the aroma of homemade cinnamon rolls pervaded the air.

“My, something smells good,” Vivian said.

Ed was on her heels, his nose up, breathing deeply.
“Smells like the doughnut shop on the square,” Ed added.

“I made cinnamon rolls. I thought you might like them.”

“We'll love them, Ginger,” Vivian said with a smile. “I had no idea you could make these.”

“I learned when I was a little girl.”

“Boy, Joe shouldn't have kept these a secret,” Ed said, taking a seat at the table while his wife poured him a cup of coffee.

“It's not often I find coffee already made,” Vivian added.

“You deserve a break. I'll cook some bacon, too.”

The three of them were enjoying a leisurely breakfast when Joe came down.

His mother and father greeted him casually, and Ginger tried to do the same.

He stepped to her side and kissed her cheek. “Good morning. I didn't mean to sleep so late.”

“You didn't. I woke up early. I thought I'd make cinnamon rolls for breakfast,” Ginger said.

“You made the cinnamon rolls? You didn't go buy them?”

“Of course, you told me not to go out.”

He smiled at her. “I should've known better.” Then he looked at his father. “Well, are they any good?”

Ed grinned. “They're terrible, absolutely terrible. Better give them to me. I'll get rid of them.”

Ginger looked upset and Joe put his arm around
her. “Dad's teasing, trying to keep all of them to himself.”

“Are you sure you like them, Ed? You don't have to eat any—” Ginger began, hurt on her face.

“Oh, honey, I love 'em,” Ed assured her. “I was teasing Joe.”

Since Joe took that moment to bite into a roll, everyone stared at him. He closed his eyes as he savored the sweet taste. “Mercy, Ginger, you made these? They're fabulous. I bet you could start a bakery and be rich in no time!”

Ginger was consoled. “Thank you, Joe. But they're just cinnamon rolls.”

“Have you already eaten?”

“Yes, I ate with your parents. But I'll be glad to keep you company.” She sat back down beside him and poured him coffee. Then she poured herself a little more.

“Heck, I'm in no hurry,” Ed exclaimed, and reached for another cinnamon roll. Vivian, however, stopped him.

“You've had three already and you're supposed to be in early this morning. Come along. I've laid out your clothes.” Grabbing him by the arm, she hauled her husband up the stairs.

Joe frowned as he stared after them. Then he turned back to Ginger. “I think Mom is trying to give us some time alone together.”

Ginger seemed flustered. “I'm sure she isn't. She probably wants me to do the dishes.”

“How are you this morning?” he asked abruptly.

“I'm fine, of course. That's a very comfortable bed.”

Joe watched her as she began gathering up his parents' dishes. “Sit down and talk to me while I eat.” When she settled herself comfortably, he asked, “I didn't disturb you last night, did I?”

“No, of course not. I didn't wake up at all until the sun came up this morning.”

“We'll have to start closing the shades before we go to bed at night.”

“I like getting up with the sun. I can get more done that way, like the laundry.”