Stand-In Wife

by Debbie Macomber

  For months he’d been in the dark, lingering in the coolness of the shadows. The sudden contrast between light and dark seemed so profound.

  When Leah had first come to his house, Paul had been dying. He’d wanted to die with Diane. A month had passed and he’d discovered, much to his surprise, that he wanted to live.

  * * *

  Leah’s shoulders ached. She’d spent most of the morning working in the garden with the boys. Not used to that kind of physical exercise, she supposed it was little wonder that her muscles were rebelling. After lunch, she’d taken a long, hot shower and changed her clothes. The boys were tired; they’d gone down for their nap with hardly any complaints.

  The house was quiet. Paul was working in his den, the boys and Kelsey were asleep, and Leah settled in a living room chair with her library book. Reading for pleasure was something she’d missed over the past few years. But no more than five minutes into the first chapter, her eyes kept drifting shut.

  She woke shortly after three, puzzled to find a blanket draped over her shoulders.

  “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Paul teased when she opened her eyes.

  Sitting up, disoriented, Leah glanced around. The last thing she remembered was setting aside her book and resting her eyes. Only for a moment, she’d promised herself.

  “The garden looks great,” Paul was saying.

  Leah’s smile was filled with pride. “Thank you. The boys and I worked hard.”

  “I can tell. They’re awake, by the way.”

  “And hungry, too, no doubt.” She began to fold the blanket, ready to get up and meet the demands of her nephews.

  “Don’t worry about it. We walked down to the store for ice-cream bars. Kelsey went along for the ride.”

  “Is Leah awake yet?” Ryan asked as he bounded into the living room. He sent her a wide grin when he saw that she was. “Did you tell her about the surprise?” he asked, looking up at his father.

  “Not yet.”

  “What surprise?”

  “It’s nothing big,” Paul explained. “We brought you back an ice-cream bar. I hope you like double fudge.”

  “I love it. Thank you, Paul.” She smiled up at him and, closing her eyes, stretched her arms high above her head and yawned.

  When she’d opened her eyes, she saw that he was still watching her. He was frowning, though, which she hadn’t seen him do lately. He turned abruptly and hurried into the kitchen.

  Leah followed. Ronnie and Ryan dragged a chair over to the fridge and both of them stood on it, squabbling as they opened the freezer. They took out the ice-cream bar they’d bought for her and carried it over to her, each holding one end. Sitting at the table, she opened the small box. The ice cream had melted a little on the walk home.

  Paul pulled out a chair, turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms along the back. “When’s the last time you talked to Rob?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “Rob?” she repeated, wondering why Paul would ask about him. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time the two of you went out?”

  “No.” Contrary to what Paul seemed to believe, her relationship with Rob didn’t involve any real commitment. Which must seem strange to someone like her brother-in-law, who felt so deeply about people and things.

  “Shouldn’t you call him, then?”

  “Not really.”

  Paul frowned again. “Don’t you care about him?”

  She shrugged. “Yes, but…”

  “Then call.” He moved off the chair, got one of the portable phones and handed it to her.

  “All right, all right,” she said with a resigned sigh. She didn’t know why it was so important, all of a sudden, for her to call Rob, but in an effort to appease Paul, she’d do it.

  As it turned out, Rob sounded pleased to hear from her and suggested they go to a movie that evening. When she mentioned it to Paul, he seemed pleased. More than pleased—relieved.

  She found his response odd, but shrugged it off.

  “You look nice,” he told her when she’d changed for her date several hours later. He was reading the paper, the very one that employed him, when Rob arrived.

  Rob, in his mid-forties, had never been what Leah would call her “heartthrob.” She doubted that he’d ever been any woman’s heartthrob. Tonight he wore a gray cardigan—the same one he’d worn every time they’d gone out, other than to faculty dinners, for the past three years.

  Leah introduced the two men. Rob stepped forward and shook Paul’s hand, but he seemed a bit nervous, Leah noted, which she hadn’t expected.

  The boys each wanted a hug, then started to follow her to the door. Paul distracted them and she was able to leave without giving them a chance to ask Rob a lot of questions.

  The evening was clear and bright. June weather was generally mild in the Pacific Northwest, and this June was no exception.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Rob said as he helped her into the car. He’d always been a gentleman, and it was the small touches, the old-fashioned manners, that made him so endearing. No one was going to define sex appeal using Rob Mullins as an example, but he was considerate and kind.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” she said with a slight smile.

  He walked around the front of the car and joined her in the front seat. “The college seems lonely without you.”

  “Summer term’s pretty slow anyway,” she said briskly, not wanting to make too much of his words.

  “True, but I always knew you’d be back come fall. It’s not going to be the same without you, Leah.”

  He surprised her by blushing. This was probably the most romantic thing he’d said to her in the three years they’d been seeing each other.

  Rob seemed flustered as he inserted the key in the ignition. Leah fastened her seat belt and as Rob backed out of the driveway, a movement in the front window caught Leah’s eye.

  The twins, grubby hands pressing against the pane, were staring at her. She smiled and waved.

  Ryan waved back. Ronnie didn’t.

  Instead, his thumb went into his mouth.

  Leah sighed. Ronnie hardly ever sucked his thumb these days.

  Her eyes were still on the window when Paul appeared, standing behind his sons. His gaze connected with hers, and something indefinable passed between them. The power of that moment left Leah breathless.

  Her pulse burst into a rapid-fire speed.

  Could it be regret she read in Paul’s eyes? That made no sense. Maybe he was only reliving his early carefree days with Diane. Or—maybe—he still felt guilty about interfering with what he persisted in calling Leah’s “social life.” Anyway, the moment was too brief to be sure of what he might have meant.

  What it was, if it was anything at all, Leah couldn’t say. By then Rob had driven past the house and the moment was lost.

  Leah dropped her gaze to her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. Could it be that Paul hadn’t wanted her to go out with Rob? That was ridiculous. He’d practically arranged the date himself.

  She and Rob had a pleasant enough evening, watching a popular new romantic comedy, but that look she’d exchanged with Paul was never far from her mind.

  Although it was shortly after ten when Rob drove her home, the house was dark and quiet.

  “Would you like to come in for coffee?” she asked.

  “Not tonight, thanks.”

  Leah hated to admit how grateful she was. They hadn’t had much time to talk, thanks to the movie. But although Rob hadn’t said much, Leah knew he felt uneasy about her living situation. He didn’t ask her any direct questions about Paul, but he’d hinted that he feared something romantic might be developing between Leah and her brother-in-law.

  She’d let his insinuations go unanswered. To deny anything would have invited argument. If it hadn’t been so completely ludicrous a suggestion, Leah might have laughed.

  Paul had loved Diane. Her sister had been b
eautiful and vivacious; Leah was neither. Diane had been witty and charming; Leah lacked both skills. After loving Diane, there was little chance Paul would ever feel anything more than gratitude for Leah. Deep, heart-felt gratitude, to be sure, but just gratitude nonetheless.

  “Could I see you again soon?” Rob asked her, sounding a bit flustered.

  “Of course.”

  “Next week?”

  “That would be fine.”

  Rob grinned. “I’ll give you a call, then…say, Monday evening?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  He climbed out of the car and walked around to her side to open the door. He offered her his hand, which she accepted, and escorted her to the front door. Once again he seemed a little ill at ease. Was he planning to kiss her good-night? she wondered. They’d only kissed occasionally. Light kisses. Nothing urgent and certainly nothing close to passionate.

  Rob put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He gave her the opportunity to object and, when she didn’t, he brought his mouth down to hers. It was by far the most ardent kiss they’d ever shared. But Leah had the feeling that he was testing her with it, trying to ascertain whether there was anything romantic between her and Paul.

  He broke off the kiss and stared down at her, as if reading her expression.

  “Good night, Rob,” she said, breaking free of his crushing embrace. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

  Rob released her immediately. “Okay,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll phone you Monday.”

  Leah let herself in and, leaning against the door, she sighed. Not with pleasure, but with relief. The movie had been entertaining, and Paul was right—it probably did her good to get away for a few hours. But she hadn’t enjoyed herself as much as she’d thought she would.

  There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for conversation, of course, but she’d been rather bored with what there was. Rob had seemed—she hated to say it—dull. If he wasn’t hinting at a romance between her and Paul, he was making her sound like a martyr for moving in with Paul and the children. It had made Leah uncomfortable.

  She saw a sliver of light from under the door to Paul’s office and was half-tempted to politely tell him she was home.

  Before she could make up her mind, Paul came out.

  “I thought I heard you,” he said, greeting her with a warm smile. He smiled more often these days, and she marveled at how it changed his whole face—although it never quite seemed to cut through the pain in his eyes.

  “I’m home,” she announced, feeling slightly nervous and not knowing why.

  “How was it?”

  “Fine. We went to a movie.” She told him which movie they’d seen and added a comment about the lead actors.

  Paul nodded and buried his hands in his pockets, striking a relaxed pose. “I’m glad you got out of the house for a few hours.”

  “You’re just feeling guilty about playing softball with your brothers this morning,” she said with a slight laugh. “Would you like some coffee? I can make decaf.”

  “Yeah,” he said, following her into the kitchen, “I would.”

  “Instant okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Leah filled two mugs with water and stuck them in the microwave.

  “You should’ve invited Rob in.”

  “I did,” she said, her back to him as she punched the buttons on the microwave.

  “So why didn’t he come inside?”

  Leah shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Because of me?”

  “He didn’t say.” She turned around and folded her arms, waiting for the timer to go off so she could add instant coffee to the hot water.

  “You’ll be seeing him again, won’t you? Soon?”

  Four

  “Yes,” Leah confirmed, frowning. It bothered her that Paul seemed so eager to have her out of his home. “Rob and I will be going out again soon.”

  Paul nodded. “Good idea.”

  “Good idea?” Leah laughed as she finished stirring decaffeinated instant coffee into the hot water. “Why?” she asked as she handed Paul a mug.

  He led the way to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. “It eases my mind.”

  His answer made no sense to Leah. He must’ve read the question in her eyes, because he elaborated.

  “There’s nothing I can do to reimburse you for everything you’ve done, Leah. I can’t afford to pay you.”

  “Paul…”

  “I don’t own anything valuable enough to give you.”

  “But Paul—”

  “It seems like such a little thing to encourage you to get out every once in a while. I want to be sure you have ample opportunity to do so.”

  Paul lowered his gaze to his coffee, his hands enclosing the mug.

  “It hasn’t been so bad.” Leah wished she knew of some way to reassure him. Yes, it had taken her a few weeks to work out a schedule for the children, and yes, she was usually exhausted by the end of the day. But she wasn’t making some noble sacrifice, as Paul and Rob were implying. Mothering these children was something she wanted to do. Already she was reaping rewards beyond anything she’d imagined.

  “I want you to have fun,” Paul said emphatically.

  “Oh, Paul,” she breathed. “Don’t you think I am? Kelsey, the boys and I had a marvelous time today planting our garden. I’ll have those memories all my life. This morning with the children was the most wonderful part of my day—not my date with Rob.”

  “You should slow down, then,” he continued gruffly. “There’s no need to keep the house and yard spotless. I feel guilty enough as it is without you working all hours of the day and night.”

  If Leah had ever heard an exaggeration, this was it. Her housekeeping skills could best be described as adequate. Her interest in planting a garden had come about as the result of a project the boys had brought home from preschool—a seedling inside a Dixie cup. She’d worked hard on the garden, yes, but it was a labor of love.

  She couldn’t, wouldn’t slow down. It was partly because of her sense of duty, partly her need to keep busy. Other than summer holidays, this was her first work experience outside a classroom since she was five years old. There was a whole lot for her to learn, to explore.

  “I’m enjoying myself.”

  Paul looked as though he didn’t quite believe her.

  “I am, honest.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his forearm in an effort to convince him. The action had been instinctive, but the instant her hand touched Paul’s arm, Leah realized it was a mistake. She wasn’t sure why, except that her heart leapt.

  Even hours later, as she lay awake in bed, her mind refused to let go of that moment. She’d removed her hand immediately, and the conversation had continued, but something had changed.

  Only Leah didn’t know what it was.

  She wasn’t good when it came to relationships. She’d never been good with them. She recognized love; love was easy. Her feelings toward Kelsey and the twins were as strong as any mother’s. Diane might have given birth to the children, but Leah was the one taking care of them now, and her protectiveness toward them was fierce.

  In some ways she supposed she loved Paul, too. But on a different level. One that was less clear, less straightforward.

  They’d bonded. That was the only logical explanation for what had happened to her when she touched his arm. They’d been through so much together. The trauma of Diane’s death. Her funeral. And now the raising of the children. Naturally that had created a bond between them.

  This bonding phenomenon, this closeness they now shared, would explain the physical response she’d felt when she touched him. It wasn’t a sexual response. Or was it? Leah didn’t know. If she’d had more experience with relationships, she might be able to define it better.

  Rob had touched her that night, too. His kiss had been probing and urgent. She hadn’t liked it, had wanted to rub her lips and erase it when he’d finished.

  But wi
th Paul, her senses had leapt to life, and she’d been intimately aware of him. Their eyes had met, and his had stared relentlessly into hers.

  Rob had kissed her, and she hadn’t felt a fraction of the sensation she had when she’d briefly touched Paul’s arm. It was Rob she was dating, though. Rob she’d be spending time with. Rob who’d asked her out.

  Now that she had time to think about it, Leah realized she’d prefer it if Rob didn’t phone her next week. His insinuations about her and Paul had insulted her. And yet…maybe there was some truth to them, although she hardly dared to express it. If it was true, that bothered her even more. It just seemed…wrong.

  Leah felt trapped.

  Rob seemed eager to continue their relationship while she felt content without him, satisfied to put everything between them on hold. True, she’d been the one to contact him, but only because Paul had insisted.

  It was obviously important to Paul—a matter of pride, even—that she continue to see Rob. As though this was the one thing he could do to ease her load. Nothing she’d said had persuaded him that she was pleased with the status quo.

  Her inability to describe her feelings adequately frustrated Leah. For the first time since Diane’s death, she felt that her anguish had begun to lift. The children had raised her spirits, returning to her the gift of laughter. It felt so good to wrap her arms around them, to let go of her grief.

  Leah smiled to herself in the dark. She hadn’t thought of it in those terms before. Being with the children meant she was absorbed by their needs. And because she had to consider their feelings ahead of her own, she found herself grieving less. Not that she didn’t miss Diane just as much, but that loss no longer felt like an open wound.

  Leah couldn’t be around the children and continue the melancholy patterns that grief had brought into her life. She was the one who’d benefited from coming to live with them. Now if only she could make Paul understand that….

  * * *

  As he’d promised, Rob called Leah Monday evening, right after she’d finished clearing the dinner dishes. Paul answered the phone and, without a word, handed her the receiver. Although he left the kitchen to give her privacy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever he was, he’d be able to listen to her side of the conversation.