by Donna Fasano
It was as though a gray cloud had moved over them, dimming the cheerful friendliness that had been between them only a moment before.
"These trees still bear fruit," he said, obviously attempting to ease the awkwardness. "It's just a pain in the rear to get at the apples."
Chelsea glanced upward into the high branches and tried to imagine what it was like to climb the tall ladders necessary for harvesting the fruit.
"Here," Ben said, "sit down and let's have some lunch."
There was something in his voice that made her wary. She busied herself pulling food from the basket and fought to control the antsiness that was building inside her. She knew he'd brought her out here to talk. He'd want her to tell him all about herself.
Chelsea handed him a sandwich and forced her lips to curl into a smile, but she could feel the tightness around her mouth.
Maybe if she kept him busy talking about his family, about his childhood, then she wouldn't have to do much talking herself.
"Ben," she began, her voice tentative. "Tell me what it was like growing up at Reed's Orchard."
"Well, between May and Granddad, I had a lot of love," he told her. "Growing up on a farm, there were plenty of chores to do. But I played as hard as I worked."
She easily imagined him running in the sunshine and the fresh air. Most of the apartments and row homes where she'd spent most of her childhood didn't have yards, so she'd spent a great deal of time indoors. Chelsea shook the drab thought from her mind.
"When I was a baby, my parents and I lived in a house not too far from Aunt May's," Ben said.
At the mention of Ben's parents, Chelsea swallowed the bite of sandwich without even tasting the sweet baked ham. It wasn't that she didn't want to hear about his childhood, but she was scared to death that he might ask her about her own parents.
He didn't seem to notice her alarm. In fact, his gaze was trained on the horizon and his voice took on a wistful quality as he continued, "Apparently my father was something of a daredevil. He liked to show off, and kind of got a thrill out of living dangerously. Didn't like authority, that kind of thing. And I guess my mom was attracted to bad boys. My mom and dad were high school sweethearts and they married as soon as they earned their diplomas. My dad came to work for my grandfather, but Mom told me stories of how he was always getting into mischief. Needless to say, he and my grandfather didn't get along."
Ben was involved with telling his story and Chelsea found her eyes traveling the length of his strong jaw line. She liked the way his green eyes twinkled when he smiled, and she liked his straight, narrow nose. She found his features exceptionally pleasing. She hoped their baby would resemble him.
"My dad was fooling around one day on one of Granddad's tractors," Ben said. "He drove it up an incline that was too steep and the tractor rolled over. Dad didn't survive the accident."
"Oh, Ben," she said, sympathy welling inside her. "I'm so sorry." The words escaped before she even realized it.
"I was just a few weeks old, so I don't remember him at all." Ben inhaled and turned his gaze on her. "But my mom kept lots of pictures and she told me all about him. I know they loved each other very much. I could tell from the way Mom's eyes lit when she spoke of him. I feel like I know him." His tone lowered when he spoke the last sentence, almost as if he were speaking to himself. Then he flushed a little. "I guess that sounds silly to you."
"No," she told him. She swallowed. "Not at all." She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him, uncomfortable with the emotion that threatened to overflow.
"So tell me about…"
"Your mom? Tell me about her." Her demand cut him off with a terseness that bordered on rude; however, he didn't seem insulted and only smiled in response.
"Oh, my mom was beautiful." His smiled widened. "I remember that she was quick to laugh. And she loved music. She had a melodic voice and willingly sang lullabies and funny little ditties any time I asked. She could make up a song about anything right on the spot."
Chelsea's heart ached at the picture he painted. It was so like the fantasies she'd conjured as a child.
Ben closed his eyes. "Her hair was the color of summer sunshine. And she had a dimple in one cheek. When she held me and smiled, I remember I would reach out and touch it."
When Ben looked at her again, his eyes had misted over and Chelsea's mouth went dry. She couldn't handle all this heartbreaking poignancy. Hell, she didn't know how to comfort herself, let alone anyone else. But then Ben smiled at her, and Chelsea knew it was meant to reassure her.
"My mother died when I was seven," Ben said. "Leukemia."
Again, sympathy surged through her whole being. But this time it was not only for him.
"Seven must be the magic age," she murmured helplessly.
"Magic age? What do you mean?"
She just shook her head, riveting her eyes to a leaf that had fallen onto the picnic blanket. The lump that had suddenly risen in her throat made it impossible to speak.
Ben frowned. He could see that Chelsea was fighting back some sort of demon from her past… a demon she wasn't yet ready to reveal. He decided the best thing for him to do was to continue talking and give her time to compose herself.
"Granddad took me in," he told her. "He and Aunt May loved me just as much as any parents would have. Life sometimes delivers some hard blows, but I've survived pretty well."
"Surviving is what counts," Chelsea commented in a tight voice.
Ben's eyes narrowed on her and he looked as though he was going to ask her to explain her statement, so she rushed to ask "How about school?" in an effort to turn the topic to something a little less emotional.
Her question had him grinning and he reached up to run his fingers through his hair.
"Oh, high school was great," he said. "I played football, ran on the cross-country team. I even joined the debate club."
"Ah, I'm impressed."
"But I wasn't quite ready for college."
"Oh?"
He shook his head. "I goofed off the first year. Almost flunked out. But Granddad succeeded in turning me around."
Something in his tone had her asking, "And how did he do that?"
"He put me in charge of the books," Ben said wryly. "He put me in what is now your office and closed the door. I'll be damned if I wasn't completely lost. And I was scared to death I was going to make a wreck of the company finances." He chuckled. "The lesson was that it takes more than muscle to run a successful business." He balled up his napkin. "I didn't have the first idea of what I was doing, but I did it all summer. His plan worked. I went back to school the next fall determined to learn something."
"That must have been when I came to work for your grandfather," Chelsea said. "John Reed hired me to straighten out the mess you made."
"He did, did he?" His emerald eyes danced. "And at which college, might I ask, did you learn to be such a wonderful accountant?"
"Oh, I didn't go to college," she said. "I was always good with numbers. I convinced John of that and he gave me my first job."
Ben whistled his surprise. "Granddad hired you to keep his books and you had no college degree, no previous experience? Now I'm impressed. You must have given one hell of an inspiring sales pitch."
Her chin dipped toward the ground. "I guess I did," she murmured.
She didn't want to reveal the terrible circumstances under which John Reed had hired her. Chelsea knew she owed the old man a lot, and that meeting him had been a turning point in her life. But confiding those things to Ben would be too mortifying.
Plucking at the blanket, she searched her brain for another question to ask him.
"Chelsea." His fingers touched her chin and gently lifted until their gazes met. "Tell me something about yourself."
When she didn't respond immediately, he tilted his head to the side and his eyes became persuasive.
"Tell me whatever you want," he coaxed. "Happy times. Sad times. Bad times. Good ti
mes. It doesn't matter. I just want to learn something about you. You've worked here for years and you're still a total stranger to me."
She was helpless against the tortured expression that crossed her face. "Oh, Ben, please don't."
His hand remained on her cheek as he looked into her eyes. Finally, he said, "Well, we've made some progress anyway."
There must have been a question in her eyes because, with the tiniest of smiles on his lips, he went on to explain, "At least you trust me enough to let me know there's something you don't want to talk about."
No, Chelsea thought, that's not true. I don't trust you. I can't.
But then she hit a solid wall of confusion when she tried to figure out if she should believe his statement or her own thought.
"Everything will be okay."
His gentle tone did crazy things to her insides. So many times in her life she'd wanted someone to say those very words to her. But the wariness was too ingrained for her to embrace the assurance he was attempting to convey.
"If you don't want to talk yet, it's okay."
Again, her heart constricted at his words. It had been so long since anyone had treated her with such genuine concern and understanding.
The grin he shot her was boyish and charming. "Just you wait," he said. "Before long, you'll be telling me all about yourself and we'll be fast friends."
Chelsea could only stare at him and wonder if what he'd said would ever come true.
Chapter Five
When the column of numbers blurred together for the third time, Chelsea dropped her pencil in disgust and rubbed her eyes. It was no use. She couldn't concentrate on tabulating this week's debits. Not when her life was in such a topsy-turvy state.
She'd thought that by marrying Ben she'd solve all her problems and achieve her highest goal. But all she'd succeeded in doing was eroding the once impenetrable wall that had taken years for her to build around herself.
That the wall was crumbling she had no doubt, and Ben was the one at fault. He was forcing her to tear down, brick by brick, the safe fortress in which she'd once secured her emotions. She'd tried hard to wear down his resolve over the past couple of weeks, but Ben was adamant in his refusal to father her child until she completely demolished her reserved nature… her mighty castle… and confided in him all the secrets concerning her dark past.
Granted, he didn't realize just how painful her childhood memories were for her. He didn't know that she'd spent her whole life trying to suppress the hurt inflicted on her, trying to forget the loneliness she'd experienced as a little girl.
Chelsea gazed off into the far corner of her office. She supposed she could lie about her past. A happy, carefree childhood would be quite easy to fabricate. Lord knows how often she'd indulged in such fantasies back then, conjuring joy and fun and bright memories where there were none. But lying wouldn't be right. Not only wouldn't it be right, but it wouldn't be fair to Ben.
She'd come to realize what he meant when he'd said it wasn't fair for her to experience him at his most intimate, when she wasn't willing to reveal her innermost emotions to him.
She shook her head dismally. It all sounded so complicated. Because it was. For her, anyway. And that's exactly why she had worked so hard all her adult life to maintain an emotional distance from people. Emotions were complex things… hurtful, painful, distressing.
When she'd first offered Ben this deal, she'd thought everything would be easy and clear-cut. But now she understood that she had been stupid ever to think that any kind of relationship with Ben would be simple.
It was impossible to deny that what they shared was anything other than a relationship. She had tried to remain distanced from him… to tell herself that what they shared was a business deal only. But they were living in the same house, eating the same meals, sharing in dozens of mundane tasks. It was inevitable that the two of them would develop some kind of relationship. It had been silly of her to think otherwise.
After spending so much time with Ben, she had begun to wonder how he actually felt about what she was asking him to do. Her request must mean more to him than simply a few passion-filled nights. In giving her a baby, Ben would be giving her a part of himself.
Chelsea heaved a terrific sigh. How could she not have understood the magnitude of what she was asking of Ben? How could she have been so callous about the idea of his fathering her child?
Well, she might not have realized before, but she did now. She wanted a child badly, and it was only right that she make Ben comfortable with the idea of giving her that child. If that meant she would have to expose her vulnerable emotions to him, then she would do it.
Damn, but that was a scary thought.
She knew very well that in revealing herself she would be leaving herself open to any pain he chose to inflict. But that couldn't be helped. In order to get what she wanted from Ben, she'd have to offer up the intimacy he required. She'd simply have to trust him not to hurt her.
Swallowing around the lump of fear that suddenly constricted her throat, Chelsea hoped she wasn't making the worst mistake of her life.
~ ~ ~
A dusky pink glow covered the evening sky when Ben finally arrived home from his work in the orchard. Chelsea had already eaten dinner and now sat on the top most step of the front porch waiting for him.
"Hi," he said, closing the door to the truck.
"Hi." She tried to smile, but it wasn't easy.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked.
"Enjoying the evening. And waiting for you." And before he could inquire as to why, she said, "Are you hungry? Can I get you some dinner?"
He nodded, his eyes gleaming with unspoken appreciation. "I'm starved."
Ben offered her his hand, palm up. After a moment's hesitation she slid hers into it, and he pulled her to her feet.
They went inside and Chelsea busied herself fixing Ben a plate.
"What's wrong?"
She jumped when she realized he'd come up behind her.
"Nothing," she answered too quickly.
"Come on, Chels." He took the plate from her hands, set it on the counter and turned her around to face him.
"It's not like you to be waiting for me at the front door," he said.
She lowered her gaze to the shiny floor tiles.
"What is it?" he asked.
It took all the strength she had to lift her gaze to his. Curiosity was clearly written on his handsome face. She took a deep breath.
"I want to talk," she said. "I think it's time..." Her voice faltered, then she began again. "I think it's time that I told you why I want a baby."
Ben studied her for a long, silent moment. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had hooted in triumph that she'd finally given in. At the very least, she'd expected a smile celebrating his conquest. But his reaction was not at all what she anticipated.
"Okay," he finally said, his eyes never losing their serious reflection as he nodded. "Let me shower and change, and we'll talk."
After he'd left the room, Chelsea couldn't help feeling a little bewildered by how he'd responded. There had been no gloating; there hadn't even been a hint of strut in his step as he went toward his bedroom. His simple, calm demeanor soothed the nerves that jumped in her stomach. Ben wasn't like anyone else she had ever met. She was discovering just how special he was with every new aspect of him that was revealed to her.
When Ben returned, he ate a quick dinner and then he and Chelsea went out onto the screened-in patio off the back of the house. They sat on the padded chaise lounge and Ben turned his body so he was facing her.
Surprised by the calmness that had settled over her, Chelsea began her story, "I guess the best place to start is at the beginning."
She watched as Ben eased back and relaxed. His serene repose conjured an atmosphere of warmth and trust the likes of which she'd never before experienced. She didn't dare stop to question it. She simply continued with what she knew she must tell him.
"I
don't have too many memories of growing up." Lifting one shoulder a fraction, she added with a murmur, "I guess the human brain has a terrific ability to repress... or forget. One or the other. Or both."
She looked over his shoulder through the patio screen at the sky; the mauve shades of evening had given way to full-fledged darkness.
"My very first memories are of being in my bed," she said. "I was really young. Three or so. It was dark and I was scared... no, I was terrified. I couldn't sleep because I was watching for the snakes."
"Snakes?"
Ben's question compelled her to look at him.
She paused a moment before explaining. "My mother wanted to go out at night, you see. She told me not to get out of bed or the snakes would bite me."
"Damn, Chelsea."
"And I wasn't to cry because I might wake them up."
The light from the kitchen dimly illuminated the patio, and Ben closely watched Chelsea's face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could a mother do something so evil to her child?
"You were alone? She left you by yourself? Didn't she have someone to watch you? Why didn't she have a sitter? Your grandparents? A neighbor?" His questions tumbled out one on top of the other.
Chelsea gave a ragged sigh and shrugged.
"Where was your father?" Her painful expression made him regret asking.
"I never knew my father," she admitted.
Her timidity gave him the impression that she felt as though this fact was somehow her fault. Guilt reared up in Ben. He shouldn't have asked all those questions. Especially the one concerning her father. He hadn't meant to sound accusatory. How could she possibly have known that she shouldn't be home alone? What could Chelsea have done to help herself when she didn't know any different? When she wouldn't have had a clue that her mother's actions were utterly irresponsible? Her mother's actions were criminal.
"Then one night I just couldn't control myself any more. And I cried."
He watched her eyes haze over, as if she were telling her story to an empty room. Ben wouldn't force her to look at him, he felt bad enough because he was making her relive this horrible memory.
