“‘God only knows what I’d do without you,”’ he sang, off tune. “You gonna tell him? Cleanse yourself?”
Her head snapped up and tears came to her eyes. “God…”
“What if I tell him?” he asked.
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes filling. “You hate me that much?” she asked him.
He stepped toward her and he lifted her chin with a finger. “Hate you? Charlie, I’ve been in love with you since the minute I saw you, all those years ago. You left me with our baby and I was devastated. Hate you?” His finger dropped. He slid his hand into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out her keys. “You left them on the counter last night.” She snatched them out of his hand. “You okay to drive?”
“Damn you!” she snapped, and stomped to her car.
“Postpone the wedding, Charlie,” he said to her back. “Do yourself a favor.”
She reached the end of the driveway and whirled back to face him. “This is none of your business!”
He waited till she got into her car and couldn’t hear him when he said, “I wish that were true.”
Agatha moved with ease through a morning of challenges. She began with an emergency fashion alteration as a pregnant maid of honor blossomed out of control with triplets. Next, a photographer had absconded with his deposit and the film from a wedding, so she was working with the videographer to create stills out of movie film to give the bride and groom captured memories of their special day. A florist had made a critical mistake on an order and all the flowers were the wrong color, clashing with the dresses. Agatha had driven to a flower warehouse north of town and filled her trunk with peach roses, carnations and miniature daisies, then delivered them to the church and hired two young women from a competing florist to re-create all the arrangements on the spot. Plus, she managed a substantial refund. But her coup was achieved when she convinced a hotel that had mistakenly double-booked their reception facilities to keep her party in the room they were scheduled to have and move the other wedding party to a smaller and less convenient site. People liked to please Agatha, and promises of future business didn’t hurt.
All this was done with her usual poise and grace, despite the fact that she hadn’t gotten much rest the night before. She and Dennis had sat up and talked in her tiny living room until almost 4:00 a.m. She knew almost everything about him now, from the details of his first marriage and Sarah’s death, through the years that led up to when he met Charlene. She had told almost everything about herself, for there was so much more to her than just the sad tragedy that had robbed her of her children and made her a widow. It had been such a long time since she’d felt such intimacy, such trust. It was as though they’d known each other for years, when it hadn’t yet been a month.
She had always assumed that she’d be too afraid to let down her guard, given her losses. But Dennis had driven caution from her heart, and instead she was filled with longing. She was embraced by his charm. All through her hectic morning she smiled whenever he crossed her mind. Oh, she had fallen for him. Thoroughly.
Before he left her at that wee hour, he as much as said the same. Not in so many words, perhaps. “I don’t know exactly how I’m going to accomplish this,” he had said. “Charlene has trusted me completely for five years, and in all that time, I’ve never even looked at another woman. But we can’t possibly get married now. In fact, I don’t see that we have any future together.”
She told him she hoped it wasn’t anything she had done. He said that in the short period of time he’d known her, he had come to realize that his relationship with Charlene was almost platonic. They were fond of each other, had much in common. The feelings they shared were so comfortable, they could easily be mistaken for love. But now he knew he wanted something more.
Then he had taken her hands very gently into his and said, “It was everything you’ve done—the way you smile, the light in your eyes, the ripple of genuine pleasure in your laugh, the curve of your neck, the small crease of concern between your pale eyebrows when you’re unsure.” And this had made her heart hammer in her chest. Oh, she had fallen badly.
She couldn’t deny it or stop it. Once she felt his affectionate gaze touch her face, she was lost. It had been so very long since there’d been love or passion in her life. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought there would be again. What she’d been trying to do was live her lonely life as gracefully as possible.
He had kissed her goodbye, and in that kiss was all the promise of wonderful nights and weeks and years to come. She was as foolish as any thirteen-year-old girl.
She was thirty-three and he was fifty. Ordinarily she would take the age difference quite seriously, but after what she’d been through, she couldn’t imagine giving it a second thought. If Agatha had learned anything, it was that life was not to be taken for granted, and to be twice loved was rare. This was so much more than she dared hope for. It was unimaginable that she’s quibble about something so inconsequential as their ages.
They hadn’t made any plans to see each other again. She had no idea what to expect, for that matter. However, when he walked into the shop at noon, it was as though they’d planned it. Her schedule miraculously cleared. She was usually booked solid through the day but she saw that there were no more commitments until 2:00 p.m.
She beamed, inside and out. “What perfect timing!” she said. “It happens I have a break. I hope you’re free for lunch.”
The look was still there in his eyes, that look of deep affection, but there was a slant to his mouth and wrinkle on his brow that hinted at sadness. She had a glimmer of intuition—Oh no, he regrets this!—but she beat it down.
“I have deli sandwiches in the car,” he said. “Can we go to your house, so we can talk undisturbed?”
“Of course,” she said, ever accommodating. But she felt a surge of panic.
“I don’t have much time. I have to get back to the hospital. Do you mind if we take two cars?”
“That’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll meet you there.”
Once she was driving, she decided it was a good thing she had a little time alone in her car. Even though it wasn’t far to her house, she needed that time to compose herself. Be gracious, she told herself. You were attracted, but he didn’t make any promises. You fell for him, but it was your own doing. He didn’t seduce you unawares. Be adult—people move in and out of relationships all the time. It was just a few evenings spent together, a few hours of chat, and no matter how intimate it might have felt, it was certainly not a betrothal.
And, she reminded herself, the complication is that the betrothal lay elsewhere. She comforted herself that if this experience happened only to show her that it is still quite possible to find love and happiness in this world, that would be enough.
She unlocked the door for him and walked ahead of him into the house. She tossed her purse and keys onto the coffee table. “Shall I get us sodas?” she asked.
“Please,” he said, and proceeded to set out place mats on her table, placing the sandwiches and napkins on top of them.
It took her only seconds to bring back the drinks and sit down. “Tell me at once, Dennis. I can see it in your eyes…something has gone wrong. Don’t make me wait.”
“That’s exactly what I have to do, Agatha—is ask you to wait. To be patient with me. I’m afraid something has come up.”
“Oh…?”
“It turns out that Charlene had a very good excuse for not making our appointment last night. Her mother was involved in a house fire and was taken to the hospital.”
“Oh, no!”
He nodded. “While I so cavalierly turned off my phone, in a huff because she was doing work for her ex-husband, she was sitting vigil at her mother’s bedside. When I turned on my phone and collected my messages, she had left several. She was frantic, verging on hysteria. And I wasn’t there for her.”
“And is her mother going to be all right?”
“Yes, thank goodness.
She forgot she was cooking, fell asleep, and was rescued by a neighbor. She’s going to be discharged today. She’s had symptoms of confusion and forgetfulness lately. She’s seventy-eight.”
“The poor darling,” Agatha said, not thinking of her own disappointment at all, but rather of her own mother’s aging, fraught with hardship and loss. She found herself thinking she must plan a trip to see her parents soon. “At least she’ll recover. Charlene must be so relieved.”
“As you can imagine, I feel like a complete cad.”
“Oh, Dennis, don’t be too hard on yourself. We all make misjudgments from time to time. But at least…”
He waited expectantly. She seemed to struggle with the words.
She took a bolstering breath. “At least you found out before it was too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“You must know I wouldn’t hold you to anything muttered at four in the morning. Especially given that you were under completely misguided impressions.”
“Agatha, wait. You don’t understand. This doesn’t change the way I feel. It only changes my circumstances for the moment. I had fully intended to tell Charlene today that we have to call this whole thing off. We’re not meant to be married. But after listening to her desperate messages, I didn’t have the heart. I rushed to the hospital and found her more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. Because this is a medical crisis, she relies on me completely.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. He meant it? That he was changing all his plans because of her?
“I’m going to have to help her through this. I owe her that much. Please understand.”
“But Dennis—” she began. “Do you mean to say—” She stopped again. She didn’t want to get ahead of him, didn’t want to make assumptions.
He covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “I told her that her mother’s health is the priority issue right now, that we can worry about our plans later. One thing at a time. And of course she agreed. But then the very next thing she said was, ‘I would be so completely lost without you.’ I’ve never seen Charlene like this. It’s very unusual. She’s extremely independent, incredibly unsentimental. Sometimes she’s a little too tough, if you know what I mean.”
Agatha nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. His voice started to fade from her ears after he said he was going to have to help Charlene get through her crisis. There was such a vagueness to that, an indefinite quality that indicated he might linger in this limbo for a while. Tell him you can’t do it, her common sense was urging her. Just tell him that you understand, but that you can’t see him until he finishes his business with Charlene. Nothing personal, no hard feelings, but it would be wrong to have these little dinners, ice creams, intimate discussions that reach deep into the morning hours and end with kisses so promising, they made her ache for hours afterward. He’ll understand. He’s a perfect gentleman. He wouldn’t want you to compromise any values.
It would simply be safer, she was telling herself. Why get so thoroughly involved? Agatha was not so far past reality that she had forgotten that once one makes an emotional commitment of the heart, no matter how far the body had gone, turning back without great pain was impossible.
Tell him, Agatha! Just tell him you can’t see him again until he’s past this crisis with his fiancée!
“Charlene is usually very practical. Very sensible. And certainly not dependent. In fact, I would say she’s always taken our relationship for granted, a thing that I was forced to admire while at the same time it irritated me. She’s frightened, that’s all. I don’t think it will take much more than a medical report, a plan of action and a good support system for the care of her mother before she’s on her feet again, solid as a rock, and forgetting we even had a dinner date. A couple of weeks, perhaps. Or, it’s possible I’ll find her back to her old self in just days.”
Tell him, Agatha! If not for the sake of your poor, battered heart, then for the sake of propriety.
“I hate to ask this of you, Agatha. I think you know…I’ve…well, even though it’s crazy and unexplainable, I don’t want to be with anyone but you from this moment on. I don’t know how or why this happened, but there it is. I think I’m in love with you.”
Be that as it may, her sane mind was saying, we have a slight complication, and that is that you have a fiancée who depends on you and I won’t allow you to lie to her, so we must not be together again until you’ve resolved this—
“A few days, a couple of weeks. I swear to you, I won’t let this drag on. I only want to do the right thing. I’m going to end my engagement with Charlene as soon as possible. It’s never been my style to lead anyone on. Two women is one too many.”
Oh, Agatha, are you crazy? Speak up! This script was last heard on a Dynasty rerun! He’s about to have his cake and eat it, too.
“I’m sorry for the complications,” he said, touching her cheek tenderly with one knuckle. “I am so grateful for your patience.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that, while she understood completely, she thought it imperative that they stay apart until he had finished his sad business. “Will I see you tonight?” came out instead.
From where Grant sat on the sofa in his living room, he could see the mound of linens in the bedroom move slightly. Stephanie was beginning to wake. He could also see the pile of dirty clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, the school papers and books stacked high on the dining table and the dishes and pans in the sink and on the counter. The kitchen had been clean when he’d left for work, dirty when he got home—as usual. The kitchen and bathroom were perpetual messes that he’d long since given up hope he’d ever get control over, or that Stephanie would ever pitch in. Sometimes the simple task of putting soap in the dishwasher and turning it on took more domestic talent than Stephanie could muster.
Grant hadn’t slept at all last night. He’d been doing a lot of thinking, trying to figure out what to do. Stephanie might have unknowingly brought the conflict to a head when she introduced Fast Freddy into the scenario, his sudden and discomfiting presence a direct result of Stephanie’s constant dissatisfaction with Grant. When Stephanie had shrieked, “This would never have happened if you worked a normal job with normal hours like a normal guy!” Grant knew they were doomed. From this point on it could only get worse.
Stephanie moaned and rolled over, twisted in the sheets and quilt. She was slowly coming around and it was almost noon. It had been a late night. Or rather, an early morning. She had left a message on the school district’s voice mail that a substitute would be needed for her class due to a family emergency. What she didn’t know yet was there was about to be yet another emergency—their separation.
Grant loved her, there was no question about that. In fact, it had pretty much been love at first sight. Here was a young woman so full of love and life and laughter, she was irresistible. Added to that her natural compassion, the patience she used to teach surly teenagers and the devotion she had for her family.
But she was also spoiled, selfish and shortsighted.
To see Stephanie out in the world, the perfectly put-together beauty that she was, it was impossible to imagine what an unbelievable slob she was. He hadn’t seen the bathroom counter since she moved in. Grant was a long way from fussy, but this amount of disorder put him on the defensive, had him fighting for his life in the squalor that was supposed to be their happy home.
But that was only one issue, and there were many. The constant bickering was killing him—about his schedule, his plans for the future, her loneliness, and, not the least, marriage. How anyone, especially a young woman whose parents were divorced before her first birthday and whose grandparents allegedly lived together about a month a year, could introduce the idea of marriage as a cure into a relationship as troubled as this one was beyond Grant.
She moved again, moaned, and Grant knew that the time had come. He had to get this over with. He went into the kitchen, poured coffee into the two cups he had se
arched for and washed that morning, and took them into the bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed. “Steph?” he urged. “It’s almost noon. Time to wake up.”
“Hmm? Can’t I sleep a while longer?”
“I have to talk to you before I leave.”
“Leave? For work?”
“Sort of. Here, I brought coffee.”
She smiled sleepily, but the sight of her swollen eyes from last night’s crying was almost enough to make him lose his nerve. She took the coffee cup, hummed appreciatively and said, “You are too good to me, Grant Chamberlain.”
“I love you,” he said.
“Aw,” she returned, placing the palm of her hand against his cheek. “That’s so sweet. See, I think we’d do a lot better if we just had more time together. You’re usually asleep when I get up and I’m asleep when you get home, and it just can’t—”
“Stephanie, I have to tell you something and you have to be quiet and listen. It’s real important that you listen and not fight with me. Just this once.”
Her swollen eyes opened fearfully. “What is it?”
“I love you. I always have loved you and I’m a little afraid that maybe I always will. But I can’t marry you. You know why?”
“Why?” she asked weakly.
“Because we’re not happy. You’re not happy with me.”
“But Grant—”
“No! You have to listen. I know all couples have their problems. I know everyone argues sometimes, and even have some real huge battles. But there isn’t hardly anything about me that you like. You don’t like my job, my goals, my dreams. When I’m not home you complain, and when I am home we fight. We’re opposites to the core. I like it tidy, you wouldn’t know tidy if it bit you in the butt. To tell you the truth, Steph, I don’t know if you’re going to find a guy who will be able to hang around, spend a lot of time with you, have plenty of money on hand so he doesn’t have to work long hours, and will be happy about all the housework he’ll have to do just to keep from attracting the health department.”