Still edgy, she left the bedroom. There were phone calls to be made. She desperately needed to feel in touch with reality. Perhaps when she shared the news with her family and friends, it would make more sense.
Ben sat behind his desk in a study diagonally down the hall from the bedroom. The chair was angled sideways, and he leaned far back in it, so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see Abby at first.
“Ben?” she called softly.
His head swung around. As quickly, he sat forward. “I’m sorry. Have you been standing there long?”
“No. I just thought…maybe I should contact my friends. They’ll be worried when they find I’m not home.”
He cleared his throat. “Uh…sure. There’s a phone in the den. You can be comfortable there.”
“The den?” She pointed to her left.
The faintest ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “The den.” He pointed to her right.
“Sorry. It’ll take a little while, I guess.”
“You’ve got time.”
All the time in the world. This was her home, where she’d be living from now on. Looking now at Ben, the thought wasn’t quite as awesome. His gray gaze captured hers with an instant’s warmth, and she felt that familiar melting sensation flow through her. Her husband…and she loved him. If only she could feel free to tell him that. But he might freeze as he’d done once before when she’d inadvertently used the word. Worse, he might get angry. How that would hurt!
Then Ben’s expression cooled. “Your phone calls, Abby?” he prompted in calm dismissal.
Taking a deep breath, she snapped her gaze from his. Her half-whispered “Yes” was offered in turning as she started down the hall.
“Other way!” came the deep voice from the study.
She stopped short, grimaced, and reversed direction. “Right,” she nodded, feeling foolish enough not to look up when she passed the study again. It was a definite relief when she sank into a chair in the den and took the phone onto her lap. Definite…but short-lived.
“You’re what?”
“I’m married, mother.”
“But, Abigail, I thought you’d been serving on a jury all this time!”
“I was. He was on it too.”
“He was on the jury? And you just…decided to get married?”
It sounded—it was—so ridiculously impulsive. “Yes.”
“Abigail…?”
“Three weeks together is a long time,” Abby tried to reason. It didn’t help that Ben suddenly materialized to lounge against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s nothing! How can you possibly learn everything about a man in three weeks?”
“Can one ever learn everything there is to know?” With her peripheral vision she saw Ben smirk. Chalk one up for Abby.
There was a long silence from the Illinois end of the line, then finally the question. “Who is he?”
“You’ll like him, mother.”
“Who is he?”
Abby looked straight at Ben. “His name is Benjamin Wyeth. He’s a college professor.”
“A college professor?” This on a note of definite pleasure. “That sounds good. How old is he?”
Abby frowned, then helplessly mouthed the question to Ben. “Thirty-nine,” she announced in relay before mouthing a silent thank you back to Ben.
“That old? You’re more than ten years younger!”
“It’s all right, mother.” Again she looked at Ben, this time trying not to smile. “He’s in excellent shape for his age.” Ben rolled his eyes skyward but couldn’t contain the humor playing at the corners of his lips. She felt better already.
“But…ten years, Abigail?”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? Do you love him?”
Abby looked down at the phone and toyed nervously with its cord. “Yes.”
“And does he love you?”
It was bound to come. But, hell…everyone had to tell a little white lie once in a while. “Yes.”
In the silence that ensued, Abby suffered pangs of guilt. She was sure that Ben knew exactly what she’d been asked, and he’d certainly heard her answer. That it was all for her mother’s sake seemed irrelevant. She still couldn’t get herself to look back up at her husband.
Her mother’s voice was suddenly softer. “Are you happy, Abby? That’s all I want, you know.”
Abby’s eyes filled with tears, her throat with its now-familiar tightness. She bent her head lower. “I know. And…I am.”
“Then I’m pleased for you, sweetheart. I only wish I could have been there with you.”
“It happened so quickly….”
“Well, you’ll just have to arrange to make a trip out here, the two of you. Then we’ll throw the party I’ve been planning all these years!”
“Mother…” Abby teased, but she was still choked up.
“Wait until your brothers hear the news! You haven’t called them yet, have you?”
“No. You’re the first.”
“Shall I call them for you?”
“Would you mind? I’ve got so many calls to make.”
“Of course I wouldn’t mind! That’s the joy of being a mother. You wait. When you have your own, you’ll understand.”
Her own. Children. Now she did look at Ben. Did he want children? They’d never discussed it! There was so much they’d never discussed!
“Are you still there, Abigail?”
“I’m here.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, mom.”
“Will you call me again soon and tell me more about him?”
“I will.”
“Has he got a phone number?”
“Oh…yes. Got a pencil?” Reading carefully from the tab on the phone, Abby gave her mother the number. Then, feeling suddenly more melancholy and frighteningly close to tears again, she took a steadying breath. “I’ll talk with you soon, mom.”
“Okay, sweetheart. And…congratulations.”
“Thanks. Bye-bye.”
Ben straightened slowly from the doorjamb. “Everything all right?”
Abby sniffed and brushed at her eyes with a forefinger. “Fine. She was pleased. I knew she would be.”
“I’m glad. Perhaps we could take a trip out for one of the holidays.”
“Could we?” Abby looked up more brightly.
“Of course.…You seem surprised. Did you think I’d keep you a prisoner on my mountain?”
She completely missed his humor. “I don’t really know what to expect. Everything’s happened so fast.”
Ben crossed the room to stand before her. “I do want you to be happy, Abby. You know that, don’t you?”
She wanted desperately to know it. “Yes.”
“Then come.” He held out his hand. “As your husband, I say it’s time to eat. It’s nearly nine. And if you’re not hungry, I am.”
“Dinner!” Taking his hand, she let him draw her up. “I’ve completely lost track of the time!” She’d make her calls another time. Now she had a responsibility to her husband. “Have you got anything in the house? I could fix up—”
Ben took her shoulders. “It’s our wedding day, Abby. I think we can splurge and go out to eat.” He grinned. “You deserve a break from the kitchen.”
She didn’t bother to answer. For one thing, he knew as well as she that neither of them had been in a kitchen for over three weeks. For another, her throat had tightened again. In that moment he was happy…if only it could last.
But it seemed too much to ask. As if in reaction to her warmth, he cooled. Rather than kissing her as he would have done yesterday or the day before, he took a deep breath and stepped back. An even-toned “Let’s go,” was all he said before turning on his heel to get the keys to his car.
A deep burgundy Audi took them to the restaurant. They ate and drank their fill. Then they returned. During the entire time, conversation was stilted. If Abby
had hoped to be able to make Ben happy, she was initially, at least, a failure. He was distant, withdrawn. In turn, she remained quiet.
It was an inauspicious wedding feast, made all the more ominous by the strident jangle of the phone the instant they stepped—separately—over the threshold.
Moving quickly, as if glad to escape, Ben answered it in the den. “Hello!…. Speaking…” He shot a glance at Abby, who’d come more slowly to the door. “Yes, doctor. She’s here.…I believe that’s her business.” His voice was dead calm. “It’s no ‘cock-and-bull’ story. It’s true…. Now, just a minute. It’s nearly eleven-thirty. She’ll speak with you in the morning—”
“I’d better take it,” Abby said softly, coming from behind to reach for the phone.
Ben muffled the receiver against his chest. “Are you sure? He’s angry. I don’t want you upset.”
“I should have called him earlier. I owe it to him.” She held out her hand, her eyes on Ben. He hesitated for a minute, then slowly passed her the receiver.
“Sean?”
“Abby! What in the devil’s going on? I got word that the verdict had come in before five and I’ve been trying the house all evening. I assumed you were out celebrating with the other jurors. Now I hear a human interest story on the eleven o’clock news—a sideline to the trial claiming that you and Wyeth were married right there by the judge this afternoon. Abby…?”
“It is true, Sean. I…I was going to call you earlier but things have been…overwhelming.”
“I’ll bet they have!”
Ben was right; he was angry. More probably hurt…it was only natural. “Please, Sean. Try to understand.”
“Three lousy weeks! I’ve been working for months!”
“It just wasn’t there between us. I told you that all along.”
“And it’s there with him?”
“Yes,” she answered softly.
Sean paused, then swore more quietly. “Damn! I knew there was something odd between you two last Sunday. You wouldn’t look at each other—but you wouldn’t move away. Alexandra mentioned it, too. Fool that I was, I laughed it off. You were jury members, for God’s sake!…Damn!”
“There’s nothing you could have done, Sean. It just…happened.”
“Things don’t just happen, Abby. You make them happen. No one told you to get married today. Why on earth did you?”
That same question. The answer was simple. Because I love him. But Ben now stood by the window, in easy earshot of everything she said. “I wanted to.”
“And you didn’t want to marry me?”
I didn’t love you!“It’s not that simple.”
“You love him.”
“Yes.”
The line was quiet for a longer time now, the silence finally broken by a sigh of resignation. “I guess that’s it then.”
“Yes.”
“Will you…will you continue to work here?”
“Yes!”
Again he paused before speaking. “So he’ll leave me that tiny part of you?”
“Of course he will,” she half whispered, finding her emotions deeply stirred once more. “And just because I’m married doesn’t mean that I’m any less fond of you. It will mean that you’ll be forced to go out and find someone who’s right for you. That’s all.”
“Will you be happy, Abby?”
First Patsy, then her mother, now Sean. Happiness. The bottom line. A huge question mark.
“I hope so, Sean. I hope so.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Then as your boss—or one of them—I’m giving you tomorrow off. Do you want next week too?”
“Oh, no! I don’t think so!” Ben had said nothing of a honeymoon.
“So I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Bright and early.”
“Okay, Abby. Have a good weekend. Oh…and try not to worry about me. I’ve got a great bottle of ten-year-old Scotch waiting.” He was the little boy again, only half jesting, but endearing nonetheless.
“Save it for your day. It’ll come.”
He snorted. “I think I’ll give Alexandra a call. She said she was going to plan a welcome home party for Ben.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“I’ve spoken with her once or twice since last Sunday. We’ve been commiserating with each other. Now we’ve really got something to commiserate about!”
Abby’s smile faded when she caught sight of Ben. He stared at her almost angrily. “Then give her a call, Sean,” she offered quickly. “It might be fun.”
“I’ll think about it…. Monday then?”
“Monday.”
“So long.”
There was a finality about the click at the other end of the line that kept her own hand suspended for a second longer. Then she replaced the receiver and settled gently into the chair. “Sean said that Alexandra was planning something for you. Have…have you called her?”
But Ben didn’t hear her. “Is it over?”
“Wh-what?”
“Your…thing…with Hennessy. Is it over for good? Did he accept the fact that you’re married?”
“Of course he accepted it. He had no choice. But there really wasn’t anything there before…not on my part, at least. I’ve told you that.”
“I know.” His eyes held hers steadily. “But your voice a minute ago…it sounded almost…regretful.”
“I am sorry that Sean is hurt. I never meant that. But what about Alexandra? Did you hear what I—”
“I called her while you were unpacking.”
“How did she take it?”
He shifted his gaze to the rug. “She was upset at first. Hurt also. But she accepted it. Much as with Sean, she had no choice.”
And that settled that. One of the things that had first brought Abby and Ben together had been the presence of nagging love interests on the outside. Now those love interests had been terminated. Their marriage had seen to that. It only remained for them to see to their marriage.
Sighing, Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I want to make a few notes. Why don’t you take a shower and go to bed. I won’t be long.”
“Is this for your book?” she asked brightly.
“No. My classes.” End of conversation. He walked to the door and turned toward his study. “Can you find everything you need?” he asked, pausing on the threshold without turning back.
She could barely hide her disappointment. Not only did he not want to discuss his work, but he was apparently bent on doing it, wedding night or no. “Yes. I can manage.”
He nodded, patted the doorjamb once and left. Abby stared at the empty doorway. He was running. Still running. He simply didn’t want to be involved. Why then had he married her?
As many times as she asked herself the question, she came up empty-handed. Without a doubt, she was exhausted. Taking his suggestion, she showered and climbed into bed.
His bed…as large as that they’d shared at the inn, but infinitely more lonely without Ben. The ache of loving him was no proper company. She wanted him. Even now, lying alone in his bed, her body began to tingle at the thought of his lean, muscular body. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through his tawny hair and hold his head close for her kiss. She wanted nothing more than to mold her hands to his shoulders, then his hips.
This was her wedding night…and it was as bizarre as the entire affair had been. Had she made the right decision in marrying Ben? Had she made any decision…or had she simply acted on impulse?
Tossing to her right, she studied the wall, the window, the artwork. Tossing to her left, she studied the expanse of built-in closets and drawers. Settling onto her back, she studied the high stucco ceiling.
Frustrated, she threw the covers back and padded barefoot to the door, then down the hall to the study. “Ben?” He sat at his desk, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched one inside the other. “Ben?” He looked up in alarm, his features taut. “Why don’t you come to bed,” she urged him gently.
He stared at her as though she were an im-poster, and she wished only that she’d stayed in bed. It hurt so when he looked at her in that angry, almost condemning way. Was it her fault that she’d fallen in love with him?
An Irresistible Impulse Page 19
