Stand-In Wife

by Debbie Macomber

  “Your birthday?”

  “No.” Leah set aside her plastic fork and lowered her head. “He…he feels guilty.”

  “Guilty? Why?”

  She shrugged. “We…thought I was pregnant not long ago. Paul doesn’t want another baby. I know a big part of what he was feeling had to do with what happened to my sister, but at the same time I was terribly hurt by how he acted.”

  Jamie put down her pizza and nodded. “We have a lot in common, Leah, more than you realize. Rich and I didn’t come into our marriage in the typical way, either. In fact, we made arrangements for a divorce when we planned the wedding.”

  Leah knew the gist of Jamie and Rich’s marriage story, but not the details. “You married Rich because you wanted a baby, isn’t that right?”

  Jamie smiled and smoothed the soft blond curls from her daughter’s forehead. “Something like that. I wanted a baby, and because I didn’t intend to marry, I asked Rich to be the father. It made sense to me, since I wasn’t in love with him. Oh, I mean, I was in love with him, only I didn’t realize it at the time. I told myself he should be Bethany’s father because he had the right genetic makeup.” She paused and laughed. “We’d been friends since high school and I approached him on that basis. Friend to friend. I wanted him to be my sperm donor.”

  “And he agreed to this?” It didn’t sound like the Rich Leah had come to know.

  “He insisted, for a variety of reasons, that we get married. I wasn’t keen on the idea, but I went along with it because otherwise Rich wouldn’t agree to my plan.”

  “Then Bethany was conceived artificially?”

  Jamie laughed once more. “No, she was conceived the good old-fashioned way. The same way this baby was.” She flattened her hand against her abdomen. “So you see, I wasn’t exactly a traditional bride, either.”

  “I imagine you and Rich thought Paul was crazy to marry me.”

  “No,” Jamie said emphatically. “The situation’s unusual, but no more than ours. You’ve been so good for Paul, good for the children, too.” She hesitated. “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.” Leah’s whole heart went into that word.

  “I knew you did. He loves you, too.”

  Leah dropped her gaze. She wasn’t nearly as confident of Paul’s feelings as her own. He needed her, but she’d always wonder if he truly loved her. For herself. For Leah, the shy, plain Baker sister. The plodding math teacher with her logical mind.

  When he’d told her he loved her that morning two weeks earlier, it had seemed like a miracle. She realized now it was the only thing he could say under the circumstances, knowing how badly he’d hurt her. He was seeking a way to atone for the pain he’d unwittingly inflicted. Leah wanted to believe him so badly. He had touched a chord in her she hadn’t known existed, satisfied a craving that reached far back into her childhood. In all her life, no man had ever really loved her. Not her father, who’d abandoned her when she was barely old enough to remember him. Not Rob. Not the few other men she’d dated. It seemed obvious to her that whatever a woman needed to make a man happy, Leah Baker lacked.

  Until Paul. He made her vulnerable in ways she’d never experienced. Vulnerable to love. Vulnerable to a happiness she’d never expected to find. Vulnerable to a tenderness that touched her heart.

  “He’s trying so hard,” Leah whispered. Trying to give her all the things she’d missed before their marriage. In the past two weeks, he’d resumed his courting, with gifts and compliments. He’d wooed her back into his bed and loved her with an urgency that melted any resistance.

  He was trying so hard…to love her, for herself.

  “Rich and I experienced our own problems,” Jamie went on to say. “We never intended there to be anything physical between us. It was supposed to have been a marriage of convenience—but it turned out to be one of inconvenience.”

  “What happened?”

  Jamie took a sip of her soft drink before answering. “We were secretly married, and I had dinner with a former boyfriend. It wasn’t a date, wasn’t even close to one. He was married and having problems and needed someone to listen to him.”

  “Rich was jealous?”

  “Terribly. But to be fair to Rich, his feelings were understandable. The woman he’d recently broken up with had been cheating on him, and it seemed to Rich that I was doing the same thing. Everything blew up in our faces.”

  “But it all worked out, didn’t it?”

  “Eventually, but things got worse before they got better.” Jamie’s hand tightened around her soft drink. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t want you to be discouraged. I’ve known Paul for quite a few years. He’s an honorable man. I can’t believe he’d ever have married you if he didn’t truly love you. If you’re having problems now, don’t worry about it. All couples do. There’s a period of adjustment.” Jamie grimaced comically. “I sound like I really know what I’m talking about, don’t I?”

  Leah smiled. “I appreciate hearing it, but even more than that, I appreciate having someone to talk to…. I miss Diane so much. I not only lost my sister—I lost my best friend.”

  “Paul understands that,” Jamie said quietly. “Diane was his best friend, too.”

  * * *

  It was Friday night. Late Friday night. Leah sat up in bed reading, and Paul was working feverishly on his novel, writing the last chapter. A marathon session. Leah decided she’d wait for him, which wasn’t difficult since she was involved in a whodunit by one of her favorite authors.

  After an exciting chase scene, the book reached its satisfying conclusion. Closing it with a sigh, Leah climbed out of bed and walked into the kitchen, looking for a snack. Something other than graham crackers and peanut butter. She was bending over the lower shelf of the refrigerator when Paul spoke from behind her.

  “Now that’s an inviting pose.”

  “Paul,” she chided, straightening quickly, a chicken leg clutched in one hand. She shut the refrigerator door and turned around. “So, are you finished?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you going to let me read it?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “That depends.”

  “On what?” she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

  “On how much you appreciate literary genius.”

  “Oh, I appreciate genius, all right.” Paul seemed more relaxed than she’d seen him in weeks. She enjoyed bantering with him, enjoyed his lighthearted mood.

  “Might I suggest you lose that chicken leg and come over here?” He held out his arms to her.

  Leah gave up her snack to move willingly into his embrace.

  His arms slipped around her waist as he lifted her from the floor. “It’s taken me nearly two years to get this book on paper.”

  “But you did it, Paul! You did it.”

  “I believe a reward would be fitting, don’t you?” His gaze focused on her lips.

  “What kind of reward?” she asked, batting her lashes in exaggerated enticement.

  His eyes darkened in unspoken invitation. “I have a feeling you’ll think of something.”

  “I’m thinking, all right.” And she was.

  * * *

  Paul stared into the night, his arms around his wife, feeling utterly content, utterly satisfied. They’d made love for hours….

  The urgency he felt to be with Leah hadn’t changed in the weeks since their marriage. He didn’t understand it, but he’d given up questioning his need for her. It was just there. Powerful and intense.

  He’d worked harder these past two weeks at controlling it, for fear she’d accuse him of using her. Maybe on some deep, psychological level he feared it himself. So he was rationing himself. They’d make love once a week—that was all.

  Maybe twice, he amended; no need to be stingy. No need to raise Leah’s concern should she notice. Yes, twice a week made more sense. Wednesdays and Saturdays. Maybe Monday and Thursdays and either Saturday or Sunday. No, that was three.
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  Oh, what the heck, three times a week wouldn’t be too much. Would it?

  He smiled to himself as she nestled her head against his chest. He hadn’t slept yet, and it would soon be morning. Close to the time the twins and Kelsey would be waking up.

  He didn’t care how little sleep he got; tonight had been worth every second of lost sleep. When he’d last looked at the clock, it had been past four. Leah had retrieved her chicken leg and brought it to bed, claiming she was hungry. Who wouldn’t be after what they’d just done?

  She couldn’t let her hunger go unattended, she’d said, attacking the leg. A college professor—even one on sabbatical—couldn’t live on love alone. He smiled at the memory.

  His book was finished. After two long years, he finally had the story completely worked out. There’d been a sense of fulfillment, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride as he printed out the last chapter. He’d read it over during the next week, do what editing he could at this stage and then mail it off to New York. He’d queried a reputable agent, who’d expressed interest in seeing it. Then the waiting would begin.

  Paul was beginning to feel a cautious optimism about life. He was happy. Not almost happy. Just plain happy. Once he realized that, he wondered if he should be feeling that way. No, he decided, stopping that train of thought before it could gather speed. He wasn’t going to censure himself. He wasn’t going to examine his joy under a microscope and punish himself for feeling alive.

  He had loved Diane. Loved her now. She’d been his first real love, his first wife, the mother of his children. But she was in the past. She’d always be a part of him. But she was gone.

  Then he’d found Leah. She was his heart now. His soul. His joy.

  After the mistakes he’d made during the first few weeks of their marriage, he’d done everything he could to make it up to her, to show her how much he cared. In his own way, on a limited budget, with limited time, he’d been courting her.

  Leah was the one who’d brought happiness back to his life. He could laugh again. The grief that had weighed him down for so many months had receded into the background. It no longer dominated his very existence. He still loved Diane and mourned her, but there were other emotions in his life now. Other diversions. He’d been freed from the stranglehold of his grief. His senses were fine-tuned. More poignant. More intense than before.

  It was as if he’d woken up one morning and found himself alive after crawling into a grave.

  When had it happened? Paul didn’t know, but he was sure it had started when Leah decided to move in with him and the children. His whole world had taken a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for the better that day.

  They’d had their problems, but then all couples did. Leah was trying to make their marriage work, too. Slowly, as he gained her trust, she was lowering the walls she’d raised. He was winning her confidence bit by bit.

  Leah wasn’t Diane. She was more sensitive. Less open. A little more guarded, but he was learning. He was learning.

  His eyes drifted shut. He was ready to sleep.

  * * *

  He dreamed of her that night.

  Diane.

  He’d fallen into a deep, contented sleep, and woke with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling of deep loss and sorrow, of regret.

  Try as he might, Paul couldn’t remember the details of the dream, only that it had been about Diane. He sat up in bed and held his head between his hands, feeling as though he had a terrible hangover.

  Why did he have this dream now? It made no sense. He’d set everything in order, made his resolutions, chosen life. Chosen love.

  Leah was awake. He could hear her in the kitchen with the children. He staggered out of bed and threw on yesterday’s clothes.

  Kelsey was sitting in her high chair waving a spoon, while the boys were stationed in front of the television set, watching Saturday-morning cartoons. Leah stood by the kitchen sink, sipping from a cup of coffee. All around him were the signs of ordinary life. Everyday, ordinary, wonderful life.

  “Morning,” he said. “You should’ve woken me.”

  Leah didn’t answer.

  “Leah?” He reached for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  She kept her back to him.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head and set her cup aside before walking down the hallway to the bedroom.

  He took a minute to drink some coffee, unclog his mind, before he followed her. She was sitting on the end of the bed, looking lost and small and vulnerable.

  He sat next to her, his stomach twisted in tight knots, dread filling his mouth. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Leah, don’t play games with me,” he said sharply. “Obviously something’s upset you. Tell me what it is.”

  She was holding a tissue in her hand and had wound it around her index finger several times. “You…were asleep.”

  “The dream.” It came to him with sudden clarity. “Did I call you Diane?”

  Leah nodded.

  “I … I had a dream. I don’t know why, I just did. That’s the thing about dreams—you don’t control them. She was in it, which is about all I remember.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Leah, but I swear to you that I didn’t intentionally call you by her name.”

  “I know that.”

  “All I can do is ask you to forgive me.”

  “It isn’t you who needs to be forgiven.”

  Paul closed his eyes, weary to the bone. “What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

  “I can’t kid myself any longer, Paul.”

  “Kid yourself?”

  “Diane was my sister, I loved her…she was my best friend from the time we were children. Even though she was younger, she was better than me in every area except grades. She was bright and pretty and fun. I was dull and plain and boring.”

  “Leah!”

  “No, let me finish. Please, let me finish while I have the courage. I never competed with her, never allowed myself to be put in that position, because I knew, I always knew, I’d be the loser. The problem isn’t you, Paul, it’s me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve discovered I’m greedy and jealous and I hate myself for it. I hate thinking the things I do. I hate feeling sick with envy because you love Diane. I feel guilty and miserable and I can’t go on like this.”

  “Leah, Diane’s gone. I’ve let her go—released her. She’s my past. You’re my present, my future.”

  “I wish it was that simple,” she said with a sob.

  “You don’t need to compete with her.”

  Leah turned to look at him, her gaze unflinching. “Do you love her?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, but I love you, too.”

  “I need some time…to think, sort out my feelings. I’m sorry….”

  “Time?” He went cold with fear. She was going to leave him. His heart was in turmoil, his head spinning. Could he have found happiness only to lose it again?

  “I …can’t sleep with you anymore, Paul. You want me, you desire me, but it’s Diane you love. It’s Diane you call for in the middle of night. Not me. For the first time in my life, I’m not willing to take second place to my sister. For once, just this once, I want something just for me. I want to be loved for me.”

  She started to cry then, and Paul knew that nothing he could say would comfort her.

  Twelve

  Paul drove around for several hours, trying to clear his head. A light rain had begun and the skies were gray, which only depressed him more. He parked his car when he passed the small apartment complex his brother Jason owned. He sat there, wondering if he should talk to his younger brother.

  He never discussed his problems with anyone, not even family. Generally he preferred to work things out by himself, without the counsel of relatives or friends.

  But Jason had said something recently that had struck a chord with Paul. His brother had said it was tim
e Paul realized he wasn’t any better than the rest of them—that he should quit being so arrogant.

  His brother’s assessment had taken Paul by surprise. Jason and Rich viewed him as pompous! He’d thought he was just being strong.

  Not dragging out his troubles for others to analyze wasn’t a matter of pride, Paul had reasoned. More a question of habit. He was the oldest in a family of five. The others looked up to him. He was their role model. He could almost hear his parents’ words, often repeated, reminding him how important it was to be a good example to the others.

  He’d gotten so accustomed to keeping his worries to himself that he wasn’t sure he knew how to ask for help. Or even if he should.

  After several minutes, Paul climbed out of the car and ran toward Jason’s apartment. He’d assumed Jason had made a mistake when he’d recently bought the eight-unit complex. As far as he was concerned, renters were nothing but trouble. But his brother didn’t seem to be having much of a problem. He managed the building himself, made sure he got the right tenants, then sat back and collected the rent money every month.

  Jason answered the door, wearing a football jersey and a baseball cap. He’d been a sports fanatic since they were kids. He’d been on the varsity cross-country, track and swim teams in high school, and he’d continued with cross-country in college.

  These days all Jason played was softball, and the season had ended a couple of weeks earlier. But he still loved to watch any kind of sport.

  “Paul!” He sounded surprised to see him.

  “Morning.”

  “It’s afternoon.”

  Paul checked his watch, shocked to see that his brother was right. “So it is.”

  “Come on in out of the rain. Notre Dame’s about to kick off.” He motioned toward his sofa, where a bag of potato chips had spilled across the coffee table and a can of soda was sitting on the morning paper.

  Paul had only been to Jason’s home once before, shortly after his brother had bought the building. A look around told him Jason wasn’t much of a housekeeper. Newspapers, at least a week’s worth, were carelessly scattered across the beige carpet. A partial load of laundry, towels it looked like, was heaped on the recliner. Several glasses, plates and eating utensils littered the living room.