Wife Is A 4-Letter Word

by Stephanie Bond

  “Mr. Parish,” Linda said, sticking her head through his doorway. “Are you okay?”

  Alan inhaled deeply. “I’m fine, Linda.” Then he limped to his valet and yanked on his jacket. “Cancel my appointments for the rest of the afternoon.”

  PAMELA LIVED IN a neat little town house in an artsy part of town—Alan suspected she’d made a good investment, considering her line of work. He had been there only twice to pick her up for some event they had attended together, but he hadn’t gone inside. The tiny driveway was vacant, and the shades were drawn. The outside light glowed weakly in the bright midmorning sun, as if to fool someone into thinking she was home.

  He walked up the steps and retrieved her untouched morning paper, then knocked on her front door several times before going around to the back and doing the same: After ten minutes, Alan climbed back into his car and pounded his steering wheel in frustration. “Pam, where are you?” he shouted into the cab of his car. ”Where are you?”

  He laid his head back and exhaled, then straightened and turned the key. Within minutes, he was heading toward Jo Montgomery’s office, not sure what he was going to tell her, but absolutely certain that he had to find Pam.

  As luck would have it, Jo was in a deep embrace with her new husband, John Sterling, when Alan knocked and stuck his head through her open doorway. They quickly parted, although John kept a possessive arm around Jo’s waist while she straightened her clothing.

  “Alan.” she gasped. “What a nice surprise.”

  “We didn’t hear you come in,” John said with a tight smile.

  “I wonder why,” Alan said dryly. “J0. could I have a word with you?”

  “Of course,” she said quickly, then glanced at her husband, who wore a wary frown.

  “It’s about Pam,” Alan informed him impatiently.

  “Jo, I’ll see you at home,” John said, dropping a quick kiss on her mouth. He nodded curtly to Alan as he left

  “Do you want some coffee?” Jo asked politely.

  Alan shook his head. “I’m looking for Pam and I thought you might know where she is.”

  Jo averted her gaze and relief swept through him. Jo knew, which meant at least Pam was okay.

  “Did you leave her a voice message?” she asked.

  “Sure did.”

  “Maybe she hasn’t had a chance to return calls.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Alan—”

  “I have to see her, Jo. It’s important.”

  “She asked me not to tell anyone—”

  “Jo, there’s something you should know.”

  Jo frowned. “Alan, what’s wrong?”

  He exhaled noisily, suddenly unsure of himself. “Something happened when Pam and I were in Fort Myers.”

  “Alan, I don’t think this is any of my—”

  “I fell in love with her.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, and a slow smile climbed her face. “What?”

  “I fell in love with her.” He raised his hands in the air. “Jo, I swear to you on everything I hold sacred that nothing ever went on between us when you and I were together.” He pursed his lips and gritted his teeth before continuing. “But when we were in Fort Myers, I saw Pam in a new light. She’s warm and funny and smart—” He broke off and shrugged helplessly. “She makes me happy, Jo, and when I’m with her, I understand what you must feel when you’re with John.”

  Jo’s eyes were full of unshed tears. “Alan, nothing would make me happier than to see the two of you together.”

  “I have to find her, Jo, and tell her how I feel. Even if she doesn’t love me, I can’t go another day with this on my heart.”

  She smiled, displaying a dimple. “How about five hours?”

  “Five hours?”

  “She’s in Atlanta, staying with a friend for a few days.”

  Alan frowned. “A male friend?”

  She nodded, and hurt stabbed him hard in the chest. He laughed softly and shook his head. “What’s the point if she’s with another man?”

  Jo walked over to him and touched his arm. “It’s a good thing John didn’t let that stop him,” she said quietly. “For both our sakes.”

  12

  AFTER A MORNING of hugging the toilet, Pam napped away the afternoon, then dragged herself toward the tub. A shower, she’d discovered, was a heartbroken, pregnant woman’s solace because there she could cry freely and it didn’t matter.

  Not that she didn’t cry everywhere else anyway. Throughout the day, Manny pampered her with cool cloths for her forehead, warm cloths for her neck, pillows for her feet, pillows for her back, the latest magazines and nice, bland food when her stomach could stand it. She felt lumpy and frumpy in one of Manny’s old sweat suits, but being enveloped in his big, masculine clothes gave her comfort.

  When dusk began to fall, he dragged a cushiony chair out onto the fire escape and planted her there while he brushed her hair. The spring breeze was unusually balmy, inspiring Pam to inhale great lungfuls of fresh air. A zillion stars glittered overhead, triggering memories of the night she and Alan strolled along the moonlit beach and the passion that had swept them away.

  Well, actually, Alan had been swept away to jail, but that night had been an awakening for her, and she would never forget it. She toyed with the sand-castle pendant that hung around her neck, where it had been since the day they’d returned to Savannah.

  “Maybe I need a change of scenery,” she said, sipping the cup of peppermint tea Manny had prepared for her.

  “You’re welcome to this apartment,” he offered. “But in a couple of months you’ll have to find another roommate.”

  She twisted in her chair. “You’re moving?”

  “To San Francisco, in June.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Pam demanded.

  “Darlin’, you’ve got enough on your mind.” He clucked. “I was planning to send you a change-of-address card.”

  “What’s in San Francisco?”

  “A career path”, he said flatly. “On New Year’s I took a glimpse into my future, and believe me, there’s nothing pretty about a senior-citizen drag-queen performer.”

  Pam laughed—Manny hadn’t yet seen his fortieth birthday and was an exceptionally handsome guy. “What will you do?”

  He bowed. “Concierge at the Chandelier House, at your service, madam.”

  “Manny, that’s wonderful—you’ll be a big hit!” Then she made a face. “I’ll miss you though.”

  “You and the bébé will have to come out for a visit.”

  “We will,” she declared, grinning at him in the mirror.

  Manny cocked his ear toward the apartment and held up a finger. “I think I heard a knock, I’ll be right back.”

  Pam sank deeper into the seat and wrapped her hands over her stomach. Imagine, she thought with a little smile, Alan’s baby growing inside me. And although she wasn’t foolish enough to believe raising a child on her own would be easy, she would do what she had done all her life—make the best of her circumstances. This child would be loved, if by no one else, then by her.

  “Pam,” Manny said from the doorway, “you have a visitor.”

  She jerked her head around in surprise, then gasped when she saw Alan standing in the living room, his suit jacket over his shoulder and his face grim. To see him after so many weeks was a shock to her senses, and she couldn’t fathom why he was here. Standing on wobbly legs, she stepped into the doorway, aware that Manny hovered an arm’s length behind her.

  Alan straightened when Pam stepped into view. His heart slammed against his chest painfully. She looked beautiful, but different. Softer, perhaps, with no makeup and her hair loose around her shoulders. Wearing her lover’s clothes, she looked dewy-eyed and vulnerable. Jealousy ripped through him and he tried not to think about the rumpled covers and pillows on the couch. Seeing their recent sex venue only strengthened his resolve that under no circumstances would he share her with another man.

 
“Alan, this is my friend Manny—”

  “We already met, sweetheart,” Manny assured her, but his eyes never left Alan.

  Alan’s hands twitched at the casual term of endearment, but he tried to focus on the reason he’d come.

  “Alan,” Pam asked, taking another step toward him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  Her smile was shaky. “Obviously, but why?”

  Alan glanced to her tall boyfriend, but the man wasn’t about to budge from the room. “Would you excuse us, um, Manny?”

  The guy poked his tongue into his cheek, then glanced to Pam with raised eyebrows for confirmation. She nodded.

  “I’ll be in the bedroom,” the man said, glaring at Alan. “Yell if you need me, Pam.”

  “Thanks, Manny.”

  Alan waited until he heard the bedroom door close before speaking, and then he didn’t know where to start. “I waited for you the other night.”

  “Something came up—I should have called.”

  “I was worried.”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a nervous laugh. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Jo.”

  She nodded, lowering her gaze.

  “Look, Pam,” he said, stepping closer but maintaining a safe distance. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend, but—”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. Manny’s gay.”

  Relief swept through him. “Really? Hey, that’s great—I say a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, and if that means marching—”

  “Alan, what do you want?”

  He mentally went down the list he’d made and left in the car. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend—”

  “You said that already,” she said, lifting a corner of her mouth. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a script.”

  Panic flooded his vocal cords. “I love you, dammit!”

  She stood stock-still while he hung out swinging in the breeze, waiting for her answer. Seconds ticked by.

  “Say something,” he said.

  “I’m pregnant with your baby.”

  He froze and glanced around the room, absorbing her words, but finding them too unbelievable to comprehend. “Come again?”

  “I’m pregnant with your baby.”

  Strange, but the words sounded exactly the same the second time. Alan felt his jaw drop, close, then drop again. Intelligent words to combine into an appropriate response had to reside somewhere deep in his brain, but they didn’t seem to be forthcoming.

  She waited.

  His mind raced. Men became fathers every day—coming up with a reply for the woman he loved couldn’t be that hard.

  “Gee,” he said with a shaky laugh, then felt the room close in around him. “I think I’m going to pass out.” But even though the trip to the floor seemed to be in slow motion, the thump of his head against the wood revived him somewhat.

  Alan heard Pam scream for Manny, then heard the man tell her to get a pitcher of water from the refrigerator.

  Manny slapped him lightly on the cheeks, then a stinging blast of ice water hit his face, taking his breath. His temple throbbed with a new pain.

  His eyes popped open and through his water-speckled lenses, he saw Pam standing over him holding a glass pitcher.

  “Uh—Pam,” Manny said. “You could have taken out the ice first.” He handed her a chunk as large as a man’s fist, tinged with blood. “He might have a concussion.”

  “I’m fine,” Alan mumbled. “Help me up.”

  Manny helped him to the couch then gave him a cloth to hold to his bleeding temple. “You’re going to have a heck of a goose egg, man.”

  Alan smiled and shrugged, looking at Pam. “It comes with the territory.”

  “I hope your insurance is paid up,” Manny muttered on his way out of the room.

  “Sounds like I’m going to need the family plan,” Alan said, locking gazes with Pam.

  “Alan—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?” He clasped her by the upper arms. “I’ve missed you like crazy these past few weeks, and I was nearly insane wondering what happened to you last night.”

  “When you called, I was trying to decide how to break the news, then you said you wanted to talk about your feelings for Jo—”

  “It was an excuse—I didn’t think you’d meet me otherwise.”

  She blinked. “That was dumb.”

  “I was desperate!”

  Pam winced. “How much does Jo know?”

  “Everything.”

  “Oh no.”

  “And she said she couldn’t be happier. In fact, she encouraged me to come after you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Pamela Kaminski, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes widened. “M-marry?”

  “You know—you’d be the wife, I’d be the husband.”

  “Wife?” she whispered, then smiled tremulously. “I hadn’t planned on ever being anyone’s wife.” Then she laughed, her eyes filling with tears. “But I hadn’t planned on ever being anyone’s mother, either.”

  He grinned. “I’ve noticed lately that life is full of surprises.”

  “Alan, I know you don’t like kids—”

  “Unless they’re mine,” he corrected.

  “But kids are loud...”

  “So are you.”

  “—and messy...”

  “So are you.”

  “—and the diapers...”

  He winced. “You got me there.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  Alan curled his fingers around her neck and pulled her face close to his. “Is that a yes?”

  Her eyes were luminous as she studied his face, then she dabbed at the blood on his temple. “That’s a yes,” she whispered, then added, “The ‘P’ stands for ‘papa.’”

  THE CHURCH WAS somewhat less crowded this time, Alan noticed from his view at the altar. Which was fine with him, as long as the people who mattered were there.

  His parents sat on the front pew, crying happy tears because Pam had enchanted them as much as she had enchanted him. Pam’s mother sat on the opposite side, dabbing her eyes. Her two brothers stood next to him, fingering their tight collars, waiting for Pam to make her entrance. Her older brother, Roy, pointed to Alan’s bandaged hand. “What happened?”

  “A little mishap when we tried on rings,” Alan explained with a shrug.

  “Sounds like Pam,” Roy affirmed with a nod. “You’d better lower your deductible. By the way, where the devil is she?”

  Alan tried not to betray the nervousness that wallowed in his stomach. “She must be here, or the director wouldn’t have let them start the music.”

  “They’ve played that song so many times, I know it by heart,” Roy whispered hoarsely.

  “Maybe she had a sudden case of morning sickness,” Alan said, trying to squelch humiliating flashbacks from the last time he stood at the altar.

  “It’s two in the afternoon.”

  “Well, you know women’s bodies can be...unpredictable.”

  Roy grinned. “Not the word I would have used, but whatever.”

  After another five minutes of “O Promise Me”, Alan glanced at Jo, who stood an arm’s length away in a simple bridesmaid dress. She chewed on her lower lip and shrugged slightly, then mouthed, “Want me to go check?”

  Alan sighed, feeling sick to his stomach. If Pam had changed her mind about becoming his wife, he wanted to be the one to know. He walked down the aisle, trying to block out the concerned murmur that swept through the guests, then marched through the back doors of the chapel.

  His hand shook as he opened the door to the bride’s waiting room, and his heart pounded when he saw it was empty. He checked the bathroom, but found it abandoned, as well. With a sinking heart, he realized she must have changed her mind. He gritted his teeth, then laughed bitterly. He was zero for two.

  His eyes stung with emotion as he walked back toward
the chapel once again to tell everyone to go home, but as he walked past the open doors of the church entrance, he heard a familiar beeping horn. He glanced outside in time to see Pam’s Volvo jump the curb and come to a screeching halt, mere inches from a stone statue of some important-looking saint.

  Dressed in full bridal regalia, with a voluminous veil and enormous train, she took quite a while to extricate herself from the car. When she did, she gathered the skirt in her arms, hiking it up to her thighs to run across the churchyard in bare feet. Carrying her shoes in one hand, she waved when she saw him in the doorway. “I’m coming!” she yelled. “I’m coming!”

  “Where have you been?” he demanded when she came to a halt in front of him. God, she was gorgeous, especially with her slightly rounded tummy.

  “Mrs. Wingate paged me,” she said breathlessly. “Her head psychic told her she had a one-hour window of safety to buy the Sheridan house.” She panted for air. “I was already dressed, and I figured I could leave and get the papers signed before anyone missed me.” She smiled happily, her chest heaving. “Did anyone miss me?”

  He sighed, wanting to shake her. “You scared me to death—I thought you had changed your mind.”

  She looped her arms around his neck. “Not on your life—you’re stuck with me, Mr. Alan P. Parish.” She pulled his mouth to hers for a deep kiss.

  He raised his head, then bent down and lifted her into his arms. “Let’s go make you my wife before anything else happens.” Then he turned, carried her toward the chapel and whispered, “I have a confession to make.”

  “What?”

  “I told the guy at the tattoo parlor that the ‘P’ stands for ‘Pam’s.’”

  Epilogue

  ALAN RAISED his hands. “Pam,” he said in a soothing voice. “Put down the nail file.”

  “You!” she yelled at him from the hospital bed. “You did this to me!”

  “Honey,” he said, “don’t you think it was a combined effort?”

  He ducked as the vase of flowers flew past his head and crashed against the wall at his back.

  “You’re right!” he affirmed hurriedly, raising his arms in surrender. He put on a mournful expression and gestured vaguely toward her huge stomach. “It’s all my fault—I did this to you and I am the lowest scum on the face of the earth.”