Marrying an Older Man

by Arlene James

  Adults didn't shout at their mothers, either. They didn't hide out in cold barns. They didn't pretend, didn't lose control. Adults faced situations head-on, calmly, maturely, honestly. Now if he could just figure out how to do that, everything would be fine! Oh, hell, what was wrong with him? How had this happened?

  He crammed his hat onto his head, snatched his coat off the next hook and went out the door slinging it on, his muffler trailing behind him, gloves dropping out of his pockets. He wanted to kick something, punch something and throttle himself all at the same time. And he was no closer to solving his original problem than he had been. Worse, he had a new problem now. Two, actually, because now he had two apologies to make, and that was never easy for him. Lately, nothing seemed easy anymore. No matter how hard he tried.

  Wearing that big coat with the collar turned up and a muffler tucked into it, he looked out of place there in his own kitchen.

  "I've just been covered up lately," he said, working his way around the brim of his hat with both hands. "Sick horses and what have you. Just a lot on my mind, I guess. Anyway, I spout off about nothing sometimes, and that's what happened the other day here. I've already apologized to Mom, but I wanted to be sure you didn't take to heart all that stuff I said. It wasn't about you."

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  Caroline nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I understand. Don't let it trouble you anymore."

  "I just didn't want you to think you aren't appreciated around here. Mom couldn't manage without you now, and I'm real grateful for all you do."

  "Thank you."

  "No, I'm the one who should be thanking you, Caroline."

  She nodded, smiling weakly. He'd behaved these past few days as if nothing had happened. He'd been charming, polite, aloof. Caroline hadn't expected the apology—she'd been the one caught listening to a private conversation, after all—and now that she had it, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with it. She'd pushed too hard with Jesse. No wonder he was sick of the sight of her. In all fairness, she supposed she owed him an apology, too. But that,wasn't what he wanted, and she knew it. What he wanted was to be left alone.

  She had been dazzled by him as a girl and even more so as a woman, and she had let that convince her they could be more to each other than merely employer and employee. She'd done just what she'd hated to see her mother do all these years. She'd built a fantasy around air and tried to make it reality. Why was she surprised that it had come crashing down? She'd been a fool. He wanted no part of her, and she had to accept that. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze.

  "I want you to know that I'll be staying out of your way from now on,'' she said. He opened his mouth, but she shook her head, bowed it and went on. "You're too busy to hold my hand, and I...I figure I know the ropes around here pretty well now."

  "Caroline, I never meant—<•"

  "It's all right," she told him kindly, looking up again. "You've all been so good to me. I've got no complaints, not about the job."

  He nodded and shuffled his feet She could feel him straining against the compunction to get out of there, now that it had all been said, but he stayed his ground and worked at small talk.

  "How're things at home?"

  She shrugged. "Fine."

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  "Your landlord's not found a buyer for the duplex yet, then?"

  She skimmed a gaze over him. "Well, maybe. I mean, some family's made an offer, but I think that's as far as it's gone."

  Jesse nodded. "I see."

  "It's no big deal," she said, lying through her teeth. "I'm

  thinking of finding someplace else anyway, someplace nicer. You

  know?" '

  "Yeah," he muttered.

  She knew he was thinking about her hope of moving in here and hurried to put his mind at ease.' 'There' s a place with a heated pool and a kind of clubhouse. You know, that new apartment complex on the west side of town. I was thinking I'd look into that. It'd be nice to have a real apartment, for a change."

  "Isn't that place kind of expensive?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "I can always find a roommate. I'm not used to living alone, anyway." She knew that wasn't going to happen. For one thing, even with a roommate, she couldn't afford an apartment in that building. For another, she hated the idea of living with another single woman. She'd had her fiH of that lifestyle.

  Jesse said something about keeping him informed and left her to her thoughts. She was relieved. She didn't want him to see how worried she was about finding any place that she could afford. Certainly she would find nothing as cheap as the shabby apartment that was her home. She'd probably have to be satisfied with a room in someone else's house, unless she defaulted on her school loans or took a second job. Or she could leave this job and find one that paid better. Maybe that would be for the best, but she hated the thought of leaving Sarah to find someone else to help her. Besides, she loved what she did here, even though she knew now that she had been stupid to take this job. Stupid? She'd been downright self-delusional.

  She'd convinced herself that there was something special, something almost magic between her and Jesse, when the truth was that he hadn't even known she existed. Jesse wasn't going to fall in love with her. He didn't even like her. She was just some kid who had insinuated herself into his family and proceeded to make a pest, an embarrassment, of herself. She was

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  Irene's daughter, after all. She sighed deeply and set her chin on the heel of her hand, feeling small and alone. So very alone.

  True to form, however, she did not let herself dwell long on her disappointments. She had laundry to begin and lunch to start, and she wanted to talk to Sarah later about an article she'd recently read. The author had contended that some arthritis could be halted and even reversed by proper nutrition and certain supplements. Caroline wasn't certain that she approved of a radical application of the author's theories, but she thought Sarah ought to at least know about the alternative. And it was a way to keep herself busy, to focus on someone else's difficulty.

  Keeping herself busy was not a problem. For several days she found so much to do mat she often skipped lunch. She continued to come in early to make Jesse's breakfast She figured that she owed bun that much, and besides, she enjoyed doing it, but she no longer hovered nearby hoping for a kind word. Instead, she got on about her work.

  Over the weekend she found an ad in the local paper requesting a sitter evenings for a busy mom anxious to finish her Christmas shopping without her children in tow. The ad requested references, and Sarah was glad to furnish them after Caroline assured her that it was only temporary, a way to earn a little extra cash. She let Sarah think that th^ extra money was for Christmas, but hi reality she was desperate to put away funds for her impending move. It was a done deal now. Just after the first of the year, when she returned from her honeymoon, Nancy would sign papers closing the sale of her duplex house to a young family intending to completely restore it. They were to take possession by the middle of January.

  The baby-sitting job also had another purpose, though. It gave her a good excuse to rush away from the ranch right after getting dinner on the table. Some days she managed not to see Jesse at all, but whenever she did, he was polite and friendly .in a very proper, very distant manner. Caroline tried to follow suit, but sometimes just looking at him produced an ache so deep that it was pure torture. She tried harder to stay out of his way.

  Sarah worried that she was overdoing it, but Caroline knew that she would have to do much more if she was going to move v

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  into any of the apartments about which she had called so far. She would have to take a second job permanently, most likely as a bookkeeper, and the irony that it would probably pay as much as her full-time job at the ranch was not lost on her.

  December continued dank and dark, much like her mood when she wasn't consciously fine-tuning it, and the bitter cold brought added burdens, the worst of which
was the fact that Caroline's old car did not suffer it well. She had to let it warm up twenty or thirty minutes sometimes before the gearshift would properly work, and so she had developed the habit of getting dressed, running out to start the car, and letting it warm up while she applied a little makeup, brushed out her hair and gulped down a cup of coffee. When she allowed herself to do so, Caroline worried that the old car wasn't going to hold out much longer, but since she could do nothing about it anyway, she tried not to waste her time or energy in pointless panic. Then came the dark morning when it simply didn't start.

  She usually left the transmission in neutral the evening before because it was getting increasingly difficult to wrestle the gearshift into position after it had sat in the cold all night, and this morning was no exception. As she put the key into the ignition, she planted one foot on the emergency brake and hovered the other above the gas pedal. Pumping the pedal just as required, she turned the key—and absolutely nothing happened, not a grind, not a shudder, not even a click. When repeated efforts yielded nothing more, she accepted the inevitable and considered her options, which seemed to consist of waking Nancy and Bud, who was now in residence, in order to call out to the ranch or walking down to the convenience store on the corner to use the phone there. With a sigh, she went back into the apartment, pulled on an extra pair of leggings and a sweatshirt over what she was already wearing and set out down the block.

  Haney answered the telephone, sounding gruff and sleepy. He said little when she explained her problem, and she didn't ask to speak to Sarah. Might as well let her sleep if she was going to have to manage on her own that day. Caroline accepted a cup of coffee from the clerk behind the cash register and warmed herself inside before hiking back up the block. Thanks to the bitterness

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  of the weather, it was too cold in the living room to sit and work on the Christmas gifts she was knitting, so she stripped off a layer of clothing and crawled back into bed, hoping she would be able to get a little extra sleep herself.

  She woke sometime later to weak sunshine and a sense of dis-orientation. By the time she figured out why she was here, someone was knocking insistently on her front door. No doubt that was what had awakened her in the first place. Groaning, she shook off the heavy lethargy and crawled out of the bed. It was cold in the little bedroom, which meant that it would be freezing in the living room. Shivering, she grabbed her coat and threw it on, then shoved her stocking feet into house slippers so old that all the fluff had worn off the toes.

  "Coming!" she called out as she opened the bedroom door. The wind rattled the windows, and she wished that she had tacked up the heavy plastic sheeting that she and her mother had used to keep them warm in the winters past." Nancy had requested that she not do so this year so she could show the house to best advantage. Now that the house was sold, surely it would be all right to seal the windows until she was ready to leave. It would certainly cut her fuel bill, and she'd be much wanner into the bargain. With that in mind, she pushed back the curtain to see who waited on her doorstep. It took a moment for her mind to register what her eyes clearly saw. She jumped back and wrenched open the door. "Jesse!"

  He didn't wait to be invited inside, just backed her up and shut the door. "Mom sent me to get you."

  Caroline put a hand to her rumpled hair, aware that she looked a mess. Jesse's gaze swept over her. "Let me, uh, brush my hair and put on some shoes," she mumbled.

  He nodded, bis gaze skittering around the room. Caroline hurried back to the bedroom to get ready. She hadn't expected anyone to come for her and certainly not him. Now that he was here, she didn't want to keep him waiting. She kicked off her house shoes and dropped down onto the edge of the bed to puH on her half boots, then quickly applied some mascara to her pale lashes, grabbed a hairbrush and hurried back to the living room, pulling it through her hair in long, hard strokes. Jesse was still standing

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  just as she'd left him. She grabbed her small handbag and slung the strap over one shoulder.

  "Ready."

  He turned an incredulous face to her. "How can you live like this?"

  Shame flooded her. Ignoring the flush of embarrassment, Caroline lashed the brush through her hair vigorously. "It's not so bad. It's clean, and it's cheap. Besides, I told you I was thinking of getting a nicer place."

  "That's not what I'm talking about. It's freezing in here!"

  Caroline shrugged. "It's usually warmer than this, but Nancy didn't want me to put up plastic sheeting until she was through showing the house. I'll get it up tonight."

  "I don't think so," Jesse said.

  "Yes, I will," she retorted. "Mrs. Henderson's always home by nine-thirty. I'd have done it already, but I haven't been spending much time here except to sleep, and it's warmer in the bedroom."

  "It would have to be, wouldn't it?" he said roughly. "Otherwise, you'd freeze to death!"

  She blinked at him, uncertain if he was angry or just concerned. "I told you—"

  "You never said anything about the wind blowing through the walls!" he roared. "Sweet heaven, it's a wonder you haven't died of exposure!"

  Angry and concerned. Thrilled despite herself, she murmured, "The walls are sound. It comes in around the windows."

  He lifted off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. She happened to adore the way it waved back from his forehead, undulating softly as it shaped his skull, and she watched unabashedly as he tamped down his temper and resettled the hat

  "You should have said something about the shape this place is in," he grumbled.

  She looked at the hairbrush in her hand and said, "I thought you knew. Nancy's apartment isn't much better."

  "Nancy's place is at least warm. She has rugs on the floor and decent furnishings. The windows have been caulked and the doors weather-stripped. I should know, I did it myself,":he added un-

  comfortably. "She never said anything about needing it done over here. I always assumed she was putting money back into the rental at the expense of her own quarters."

  "She doesn't have any money to put back into this place, Jesse. We barely pay her enough to cover the taxes and insurance. It's all any of us could afford. Don't blame her. It's not her fault my mother didn't find someone like you to take care of what we couldn't."

  He turned his head away from her. After a moment he swept a hand around, indicating the furnishings in the room. "Any of this stuff yours?"

  "No. No, it's not. I think most of it belonged to an elderly aunt of Nancy's. She said once that her cousins gave her everything they didn't want themselves."

  He nodded. "Okay. Well, you'd better pack a bag."

  She really wasn't certain she'd heard him right. "Pack a bag?"

  He turned a hard, flat look on her. "That's right, pack a bag. We'll pick up everything else later, including the car, for what it's worth."

  Pick up everything else later? Caroline stared at him. "You're taking me home with you to stay?"

  "Where else are you going to go? Even if you could find something you could afford on short notice, it wouldn't be any better than this."

  Caroline blinked, not bothering to feel insulted. "Jesse, I've lived here more than four years now. Besides, when I suggested that I move into your house, I wasn't thinking about how crowded it would be when your brother and his family came to visit. You really don't have room for me."

  "There's an attic room," he said, his tone clipped. "It might need some fixing up, but you can stay in the guest room until it's done. There's no closet, but my grandmother's wardrobe should do unless you've got dozens of dresses to hang."

  She smiled at the absurdity of that "Not hardly."

  "The furniture's old, but it's good stuff, real antiques, some of

  it.'

  'I like antiques," she said softly. "They have a kind of con-

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  tinuity, you know. I always think about all the other people who must have used them
down through the years."

  He nodded, but she could tell he wasn't really thinking about what she'd said. He cleared his throat. "You'll have to use the hall bath on the second floor," he said.