Blue Skies

by Catherine Anderson

  Carly wrapped her arms around her waist. “We’d be married. What if he decides all the cash expenditures entitle him to certain paybacks? I won’t go through that again!”

  Bess arched her eyebrows. “How do you know you won’t enjoy it?”

  “Enjoy it?” The very thought of enduring that pain again made her insides clench. “You’re out of your mind. Never, do you hear? Never.”

  “Not even if it means keeping your baby? There must have been some pretty powerful chemistry at work that night, or you never would have landed yourself in this mess.”

  “Oh, please. He was a total jerk this morning, muscling his way in here, refusing to leave, and making threats.”

  “And whose fault is that? He tried being nice. You threw it back in his teeth.”

  “I can’t believe you’re taking his side!”

  “I’m on your side, Carly. And the baby’s. The way I see it, Hank is your only lifeline. If you refuse to accept his help, what’re you going to do, end up on welfare and borrow money from your dad to fight Hank in court?”

  “You know I’d never dump this on my father. If he thought, even for a second, that I might lose my baby, he’d sell everything he owns and go into debt to prevent it. He’s made too many sacrifices for me as it is.”

  “That’s what parents do, make sacrifices,” Bess said softly. “Maybe you should follow his example and consider making a few yourself.”

  Hank leaned over Zeke’s pool table, drew careful aim, and started to take his shot just as his cell phone jangled. He jerked. Instead of hitting its target, the cue ball angled left, struck the eight ball, and followed it into the corner pocket.

  “Well, shit.”

  Zeke gave a choked laugh. “Saved by the bell. I thought you were going to whip my ass and take my ten bucks.”

  Hank pulled the cell phone from his belt. “Yeah, this is Hank.”

  “Hank?” a tremulous female voice said.

  Hank shot his brother a meaningful look, then hunched his shoulders and turned his back to the table. “Carly?”

  “Yes. I, um—need to talk to you.”

  There was only one reason Hank could think of that she might call; she’d decided to accept his proposal. A part of him wanted to whoop with relief, but another part of him was alarmed by the shakiness of her voice. This clearly wasn’t an easy thing for her to do.

  He stepped closer to the sliding glass door in an attempt to block out the TV and his brother’s prying eyes. “Sure, we can talk. No problem. What’s on your mind?”

  “It sounds as if you’re busy. I can call back later.”

  She sounded almost too eager to do that. Hank tightened his hold on the phone. The damned thing was too small for his hand, and he had to watch where he curled his fingers. “I’m not busy, honey.” The instant the endearment passed his lips, he winced. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. “I’m just hanging out at my brother Zeke’s. You couldn’t have chosen a better time to call, actually.”

  “Oh.” Silence ensued. “It’s awfully late.”

  Hank glanced at his watch. It was half past ten, not exactly the pumpkin hour. “What’s on your mind?” he asked again.

  “I, um—well, I don’t know quite how to start.”

  He could tell that she didn’t. “I haven’t handled our conversations very well myself, so just spit it out, and we’ll go from there.”

  Even over the phone line, he could feel her brittle tension.

  “I’ve, uh, been doing a lot of thinking—about your proposition.”

  He’d figured as much. His whole body snapped taut. “And?”

  “I’m toying with the thought—just toying, mind you—of taking you up on it.”

  All the starch went out of Hank’s spine. If she was toying with the thought, it was only a matter of time before she agreed. “I see,” he replied, struggling to let no note of satisfaction enter his voice.

  He heard a rustle of paper. “I have two stipulations.”

  It sounded to him as if she’d made out a whole list. “Oh? What sort of stipulations?”

  “First of all, I want it understood that I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. I can’t just take your money.”

  Hank doubted that she’d ever be financially able to reimburse him, and he sure as hell didn’t expect her to, but that little wrinkle could be ironed out at a later date. If it made her feel better to think that she’d pay him back someday, he wouldn’t argue the point. “All right. Sure. I’m okay with that.”

  “I want a tally kept of every cent you spend,” she emphasized. “When we divorce, we’ll deduct what you would have paid in child support during that time, and I’ll owe you the remainder. We’ll work out a monthly payment plan—something I can afford—and I’ll eventually settle the debt.”

  She obviously had given this a great deal of thought. No special favors. As frustrating as her stubbornness was, he admired her for it. A lot of people went through life with their hands out, expecting a free ride. Carly had trouble accepting one even when it was shoved down her throat.

  “Sure. That works for me.” Hank waited a beat. Then he said, “And?”

  “And, what?”

  He smiled slightly. “You said two stipulations. What’s the other one?”

  In a muffled voice, she said something he didn’t quite catch. He covered his opposite ear to block out the television noise. “Come again?”

  “No sex,” she repeated. The electricity that shot over the wire raised the hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t want you approaching me three months down the road about the inequities of our arrangement. No sex, period, ever.”

  Hank rubbed beside his nose and cleared his throat. Until now, he hadn’t thought about the specifics of the arrangement. He’d been so focused on getting her to agree that nothing else had seemed important.

  “I see,” he said.

  If it was possible, her voice grew more tremulous. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

  Hank gazed bleakly out the window at the shadows that cloaked Zeke’s patio. “Not unhappy, exactly. Concerned would be a better word.” He shot a glance at his brother, who was carefully racking the billiard balls to avoid making noise. “I understand that this arrangement isn’t one you’d normally consider. I also sympathize with your reservations. But, for the sake of our child, I was hoping we might at least enter into it with open minds.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Hank glanced at his brother again. Zeke had finished racking the balls and was now making no attempt to hide his interest in Hank’s side of the conversation.

  “Just that I was hoping we might settle into the relationship and see our way clear to at least try to make it work,” Hank explained. “You have to admit that it’ll be a lot better for our child if we end up staying together.”

  “You said nothing about that this morning,” she countered shrilly. “You said I’d be free to go my own way as soon as I get my degree and the eye surgery.”

  “You will be free to go your own way. That goes without saying, doesn’t it? I’m just looking at the possibilities. Do you dislike me so much that it’s inconceivable to you that we might somehow hit it off?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, shit. Hank rested his forehead against the cool glass. Deep, slow breaths. He needed to stay calm and say the right things. Nevertheless, her ready response and the panic in her voice were grave causes for concern. “Carly, honest answer, okay? Was it so awful for you that night that you’re afraid to have sex with me again?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly.

  The TV suddenly went silent. Hank looked over his shoulder to see Zeke laying the remote control back down on the end table. Clearly, Hank’s brother wanted to miss no part of this exchange. Hank thumped his forehead against the glass again.

  “I’m sorry about how things went that night,” he said, pitching his voice low. “You’ll never know how sorry, Carly. I’d give my right arm to turn bac
k the clock and treat you the way you deserved to be treated—to make it nice for you.”

  “Amen,” Zeke intoned softly.

  Hank wished his brother would keep his mouth shut or, better yet, disappear.

  “I don’t want to talk about that night,” Carly said, her voice ringing with frustration. “As for the no-sex thing, I should have known you wouldn’t agree.”

  “It’s not that I disagree,” Hank clarified. “If we can’t put that night behind us and start over fresh, then of course we’ll never have sex. I just hesitate to get locked down by promises that rule out any possibility of our making the marriage work. That’s all.”

  “No sex?” Zeke spoke barely above a whisper. “Christ on crutches. Be careful what you promise, little brother. Two years is a hell of a long time.”

  “Well, understand something!” Carly cried in Hank’s other ear. “I hesitate to enter into an arrangement that could, conceivably, turn ugly for me. I hoped we might set some ground rules.”

  Hank took a mental step back and tried to see her side of it. In all fairness, he supposed she had legitimate reasons to be wary. She knew very little about him. If he was a bastard to the core—and he’d given her little reason to believe otherwise—it went without saying that he had a physical advantage.

  “Let’s do that, then,” he said softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Set some ground rules. I’m perfectly willing to promise you that nothing—absolutely nothing—will ever happen between us that you don’t want to happen.”

  “Now you’re talking,” was Zeke’s vote of approval.

  “How do I know your word is good?” Carly asked.

  Nerves frayed and tension building, Hank ran a hand over his face. “If my word isn’t good, you’ve got no guarantee I’ll keep any promise I’ve made so far.”

  “Like I’m not aware of that?” she cried.

  Her admission drove home to Hank how precarious this arrangement must seem to her. No wonder her voice was shaky.

  Hank leaned his shoulder against the slider frame. To hell with what Zeke overheard. Getting this upset couldn’t be good for her—or for his baby.

  “Carly, sweetheart, listen to me. Okay?” Hank realized he’d just used another endearment and said to hell with that as well. He’d been hearing his father use terms of endearment all his life. Following suit came as naturally to Hank as opening doors for a woman or pulling out her chair. There was also the inescapable fact that Carly would never really get to know him if he continued to weigh his every word and pretended to be someone he wasn’t. “You listening?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly.

  “In my family, a man’s word is his bond. I don’t make promises lightly, especially not to a lady. If I did, my father and four brothers would stand in line to kick my ass.”

  “I get first dibs,” Zeke inserted with a gravelly laugh.

  “Oh,” Carly murmured.

  Hank doubted she believed him. Until she met his family and got to know him better, she was bound to feel uneasy about this entire situation. He wished he knew how to remedy that, but some things just couldn’t happen overnight. Building trust in a relationship was one of them.

  In the interim, he wasn’t willing to strike bargains that would tie his hands. Maybe she was right, and their chances of making this marriage work were slim to nonexistent. All the same, he couldn’t help but remember how sweetly she’d responded to his kisses that night outside the bar. There had definitely been passion between them. All he needed was a chance to rekindle it. In that event, what was to say they wouldn’t decide that they wanted to stay together?

  “I know I haven’t given you much reason to believe this, but I’m really not such a bad guy.”

  Zeke chuckled. The proclamation was greeted with silence at Carly’s end—a condemning silence.

  Hank shifted to rest his hip against the doorframe. “I’ve given you my solemn oath that nothing will ever happen between us that you don’t want to happen, Carly. If you think about it, isn’t that as rock solid as your stipulation? Same results, different wording. No sex unless you say so.”

  “It doesn’t seem as ironclad,” she said faintly.

  “If I’m a man who doesn’t keep his word, nothing’s ironclad. You can lock me down with promises ’til hell freezes over, and you’ll still be going into this with no guarantees.”

  “I take it back,” Zeke muttered. “You didn’t get all the charm in the family, little brother. Even I could do better than that.”

  Hank cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. “Would you shut the hell up?”

  “What?” Carly asked in a shocked little voice.

  “Not you,” Hank hastily assured her. “My brother’s here, and he keeps adding his two cents.”

  “He’s listening?”

  Shit. Hank pressed a fist to his forehead. Speaking of stress headaches. “He’s in the room. Not really listening, though.” Liar, liar.

  “Sorry.” Zeke winced and shrugged.

  “Where were we?” Hank asked Carly.

  “You were saying there are no guarantees.”

  “Only if my word’s no good. On the other hand, if my word is my bond, you’ll be as safe agreeing to my version as you would be if I agreed to yours.”

  Hank waited for her to respond. Nothing. He began to fear she might hang up. When push came to shove, the most important thing was that she agreed to marry him. Maybe, he decided, he should accept her dictate of no sex, and worry about changing her mind later.

  He was about to tell her as much when she said, “I guess that’s true,” in a forlorn voice.

  Hearing her hopelessness, Hank got a funny, achy sensation at the base of his throat. He wished he were there with her. Why, he didn’t know. He doubted his presence would comfort her much. “Carly, you have to trust me,” he said softly. “I swear to God, you won’t regret it.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Does that mean we’ve got a deal?”

  “I don’t have much choice.” He heard her swallow and grab for breath. “If you take me to court, how will it look to a judge? A pregnant woman, possibly going blind, who’s on the dole with no hope of getting a job? I can’t gamble with custody of my baby.”

  Hank sorely wished he hadn’t been forced to play that card. The truth was, he’d never consider taking the child away from her. The very fact that she had chosen to carry the baby, regardless of the cost to herself, told him that she’d be a devoted and loving mother.

  “I’m tired,” she said, her voice trailing away on the last word. “Tired of fighting you, tired of fighting Bess. As long as I get to keep my baby, nothing else matters. I can survive anything for two years.”

  Hank wasn’t sure how he felt about that statement. She could survive anything? What the hell did she think he meant to do, jump her bones the minute he got a ring on her finger?

  “I’ll want it in writing,” she added.

  He blinked and jerked his attention back to the conversation. “You’ll want what in writing, that I won’t press you for sex?”

  “That you won’t sue for custody after we divorce.”

  “Oh. Sure. I’ve got no problem with signing something like that.”

  “Am I to take that to mean you would have a problem signing a paper that says you won’t press me for sex?”

  For some insane reason, Hank nearly smiled. Sex, a fate worse than death. Only it wasn’t really funny when he thought about it. It was his fault she felt this way. “No, of course not. You want it in writing, I’ll give it to you in writing.”

  “Fine. I’d like that.” Silence. Then, in a weary voice, she asked, “Will you draw it up?”

  Hank considered the question. Somehow, he couldn’t quite picture himself having an attorney draw up a document like that. “Yeah, I’ll draw it up.”

  She sighed, the sound conveying exhaustion. Once they got all these messy details out of the way, he could take over and see to it that everything ra
n more smoothly for her. With some calm in her life, the headaches might disappear and the morning sickness might even abate.

  “Now what?” she suddenly asked. “Are you, um, going to want to get married soon?”

  “My insurance has a three-month waiting period for preexisting conditions. The quicker we get you signed up for coverage, the better. If anything goes wrong before that, a twenty percent co-pay will add up fast and your monthly premiums will be expensive as well.” He struggled to organize his thoughts. “The first order of business is to apply for a marriage license. We’ll have to go the courthouse to fill out the paperwork. I was thinking of a civil ceremony. Are you okay with that? I’m willing to do it in a church, if you’d prefer.”

  “No, not a spiritual ceremony. That would seem too final. It’s only a temporary arrangement, after all. Besides, church weddings are more costly. If we don’t keep the expenditures down, I’ll be making payments to you for the rest of my life.”

  Red alert. Hank wasn’t about to let her start pinching pennies and doing without because she didn’t want to rack up a huge debt. He almost said as much, but remembering Bess’s hurdle theory, he held his tongue. It was yet another issue that they could address later.

  “Fine. We’ll keep it low-key. We’ll have to have witnesses, though.”

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “I imagine my family will want to come. You okay with that?”

  “I guess I’ll have to meet them, sooner or later. I may as well get it over with.”

  Hank tried to imagine his parents and siblings formally shaking her hand after the wedding and then fading from the picture. It wasn’t happening. The Coulters would make a big deal out of the marriage, even it was only a civil ceremony, and they’d consider Carly to be part of the fold the instant Hank put a ring on her finger. There’d be no such thing as getting it over with, not with them.

  “Are you planning to invite Bess?” he asked.

  “I, um—yes, if you don’t mind.” She still sounded nervous and uncertain. Hank wished he could think of something to say that might ease her mind. “Bess is like a sister to me. Right now, I’m very upset with her, but I can’t exclude her.”