by Donna Fasano
In fact, he was certain from the way his gut churned inside when he was near her, he'd have no trouble at all giving her as many babies as she wanted, and then some.
''Is something wrong? "
Chelsea lifted her head and twisted a fraction to look at him. His face grew hot with embarrassment over his thoughts. Averting his gaze from the visible swell of her breast, he hurried to the bed and sat on its edge.
"Let me just warm some of this up," he said, trying to control his flustered state. He poured a dollop of lotion into his palm and rubbed his hands together.
Just keep your mind on the job at hand, he silently told himself.
The task may have been small, but it took an enormous effort for him to focus on his goal. He smoothed his hands over her back to distribute the creamy lotion. Her flawless skin felt like silk to his work-roughened hands. The milk white color was more than pleasing to his eyes, and he had to force himself to concentrate.
His fingertips ran over the tiny bumps of her spine as he slowly made his way down her back. He reversed the action and smiled when he heard her sigh softly in response. That sigh sparked something deep inside him… a slow-growing flame that had never been completely extinguished during the past two weeks despite the satisfaction he found in their lovemaking.
With the heels of both hands, he pressed little circles on the indentations on either side of her spine at the small of her back.
"That's wonderful," she groaned.
Her avid response was like a sprinkling of water on a dry and dusty desert. He wanted more of it, much more.
Working mostly with his thumbs, he massaged his way up her back. He kneaded her shoulder muscles and was rewarded with a tiny moan. He smoothed his palm over her shoulders and heard her sigh.
Ben had to fight the urge to bend over and plant a tender kiss on her neck. The flame that had flickered inside his lower belly only a moment ago, now blazed with an ever-growing heat. Chelsea did this to him, and he couldn't figure out why.
He really needed to get his mind off the desire that gnawed at him, but that was nearly impossible when the object stirring his passion was laying on his bed half-naked.
Talk, he commanded himself…
"How is this?"
"Mmm," she answered, groggily.
He grinned and splayed his hands across her shoulder blades, rubbing with strong fingers.
"I've heard several different terms used to describe the female cycle," he said, desperate to get his mind off the curves of her luscious bottom. He didn't much like this embarrassing topic, but, hell, he'd talk about anything if it would divert his attention. "You might not believe this, but some of the guys talk quite freely about it. I've heard Joey complain that Angela is suffering from 'her monthly.'" He chuckled. "Tom never fails to let everyone know Teresa is 'spitting fire'… apparently she becomes very irritable. I've heard them call it Aunt Flo and the Deathly Period, and a half a dozen other nicknames. Some of them aren't fit to be repeated."
He let his fingers trail lightly down Chelsea's back.
"I remember before Aunt May went through menopause she'd tell me, 'Don't bother me. I'm feeling out of sorts' and I knew to make myself scarce…"
"Ben, please shut up. Your hands are working miracles, but your mouth is ruining everything."
"Sorry." And then he clamped his lips together to keep from smiling at her testiness.
It didn't take long before Chelsea's breathing had become relaxed and even, and a deep sense of satisfaction settled over him knowing that he might have helped relieve her discomfort.
With ever-lighter strokes, he worked his way back up to her shoulder blades. When his fingertips accidentally brushed the soft swell of her breasts, the satisfaction he felt was quickly snuffed out by the white-hot fire of his need. His inane conversation hadn't helped at all.
Damn, he admonished himself. How could he be so callous? He felt totally helpless against the purely sexual reactions that his wife caused in him, but he certainly could control his urges while she was feeling… out of sorts. A faint grin crept across his lips.
He had to admit the feeling churning in him. He was full-out delighted that Chelsea wasn't pregnant. His grin disappeared completely as the thought flashed through his brain, not for the first time. He wasn't proud that he felt that way, and he knew it was totally selfish, but he looked forward to making love to her. He enjoyed it. And their hot, fully satisfying nights of love would stop cold once she conceived. Although he'd realized this before, he hadn't put together what it meant, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't acknowledge that his feelings for her were changing, growing into something deeper.
Ben stopped massaging and leaned over to gaze at Chelsea's face. He was certain she was asleep. Reaching out, he brushed a strand of her shiny, dark hair from her face.
He picked up the baggy cotton shirt she used for pajamas and absently folded the lightweight material. All he asked, looking at the ceiling as though his gaze could somehow get his selfish prayer to heaven, was that it would take her a while to become pregnant.
~ ~ ~
Before Chelsea was fully conscious, she became aware of the heated male scent that belonged to Ben. She inhaled deeply and thought she must be dreaming.
But as she came awake, she frowned. Something wasn't right. She raised her lids and blinked her sleepy eyes several times.
Something was wrong. She was in Ben's room. In Ben's bed. In Ben's arms.
His deep, steady breathing was right next to her ear. His arm was tucked beneath her breasts. The two of them were pressed as close together as spoons in a cutlery drawer.
She lay as still as a frightened rabbit and tried to remember what had happened last night that had impelled her to sleep with Ben.
Slowly, it came to her. Headache. Crampiness. Back pain. She'd lain down on Ben's bed and found such comfort there. Ben arrived. Pain meds. And then the most wonderful, bone-melting massage...
The disappointment she'd felt yesterday over starting her period was nothing next to the deep sense of gratitude she had toward the man who lay sleeping beside her. No one had ever taken the time to care for her the way he had last evening. And she hadn't even been sick, really. But Ben had treated her with kindness and understanding. And a tenderness that was nothing short of amazing. He'd even gone beyond that by rubbing her back until she'd fallen asleep. By the looks of it, he'd curled up next to her so she wouldn't be alone in her misery.
She felt the warm weight of his forearm as it pressed so intimately up under her bare breasts. The tiny hairs on his arm tickled her sensitive skin. But it wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it was quite... delicious.
An inadvertent sigh escaped her barely parted lips. It was a sigh filled with utter satisfaction. She'd never slept all night with anyone. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and smiled as contentment washed over her. Being married to Ben had brought her some beautiful and fulfilling experiences, and she would treasure these memories for the rest of her life.
She'd learned so much about him. His sexual drive was strong and his passion overwhelmed her at times. She also knew he was a kind man, an understanding man, a man who cared about others. He'd proven that last night. And he was a strong man, but his was a quiet strength... a quiet strength that awed her.
All these thoughts made her mouth go dry. Her stomach seized up with a sudden fear.
Easing from his cozy embrace, she slid to the edge of the mattress and sat up. Her nightshirt was folded at the foot of the bed, and she tugged it over her head. She stood and made her way to the door as she pushed her arms into the sleeves.
She stopped off at the bathroom and then went to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. She barely heard the steady hiss and bubble of the perking coffee-maker as she gazed out the kitchen window. Trying desperately to focus on the predawn sky with its coral mother-of-pearl sheen, Chelsea couldn't stop the question from entering her brain.
Have you fallen in love with Ben?
Her
fingertips felt chilled as she pressed them to her mouth. She knew her feelings for him had mellowed from the very beginning, when he'd agreed to father her child. It had been impossible for her not to feel a softness, a deep gratitude, when he had been willing to give her the one thing she desired above all else.
And her feelings for him had yielded even further when he'd shown such gentleness and compassion as she'd explained her childhood to him.
He'd cared for her when she'd felt so awful, and she'd awakened in the solace of his strong arms. As she had lain there in his warm, protective embrace and she'd pondered all the things she'd learned of him, she'd become all tingly inside.
Have you fallen in love with Ben?
The question was relentless, and though silent, it seemed louder this time. Her subconscious, or whatever it was that was querying, was certainly demanding an answer.
But she couldn't fall in love with Ben. That hadn't been part of her original plan. Her simple, clear-cut plan.
If she were to fall in love with him, she'd experience more pain than she'd ever encountered in her life. She couldn't let that happen. She just couldn't.
Even in her wildest imaginings, she couldn't picture Ben feeling affectionate toward her.
This is a child only a mother could love.
This is a child only a mother could love.
The social worker's words from years earlier rang through her mind like an irritating bell, just as they had all her life.
No, Ben could never love her.
Have you fallen in love with Ben?
The question was louder this time, and it wasn't going away.
Chelsea's throat convulsed as she tried to swallow around the dryness in her mouth. Her chin trembled the slightest bit as she watched the sun break above the horizon, and she finally admitted, "Yes, damn it. Yes."
Chapter Seven
"May…" Chelsea's tone held the tentative note of someone unused to seeking out social conversation. "Tell me about your marriage."
The two women were sitting in Reed's Orchard Country Store. Chelsea loved the homey atmosphere, with the delicious aroma of apples permeating the air and the quaint country crafts, preserves and baked goods for sale.
"Well, child," May began, "I was eighteen when I first laid eyes on Joshua Harris. He was a professor in a small seminary college in Philadelphia. He'd come to Kemblesville to our church one Sunday as a visiting preacher."
May worked at tatting a delicate lace doily, her still-nimble fingers maneuvering the small shuttle through a web of cotton thread until the series of knots formed an intricate and beautiful design. So skilled was she at the craft that her hands didn't slow, even though her eyes glazed with her happy reminiscences.
"I was carried away by his fiery words and his inspiring manner." She chuckled impishly. "His big, broad shoulders and handsome face didn't hurt much, either."
Chelsea's lips drew back humorously.
"We were introduced during the Welcome Hour after the service. That's the time that church members spent socializing. Catching up on all the gossip."
May's rocking chair stopped its creaking, but her fingers continued to weave the wooden shuttle up and down, in and out. "Joshua became a regular member of our congregation after that. He traveled from the city to our small town every Sunday. After two short weeks, he went to my father. At first, my father flat out refused to even consider Joshua's request to court me. He…"
"Wait." Chelsea couldn't contain her disbelief. "Joshua asked to court you?"
"Oh, yes," May said, nodding emphatically. "Joshua would never have pursued a relationship with me without my father's permission. Things were very different back then. Daddy would have brandished a shotgun in order to protect my virtue, if need be. It might have been against the law, but he'd have had the support of all his relatives, friends and neighbors. And Joshua knew it."
"It all sounds archaic. So... Victorian."
May laughed. "That's exactly what it was."
"But didn't you have any say in who…" Chelsea stumbled over how to phrase her thoughts "…came courting?"
May shook her head. "Not until a formal request was made. Once Joshua had my father's permission, he could ask for mine. Oh, there were girls who didn't follow the rules." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "They were labeled as easy."
Chelsea was intrigued by the sudden devilish gleam in May's eye.
"Joshua was scared spitless of Daddy, I don't mind saying. I can't tell you the number of come-hither smiles and flirtatious looks I had to cast his way, in order to bolster him into overcoming his fear."
Narrowing one eye, Chelsea commented, "I think you had more say about who came courting than you're letting on."
May grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Maybe so," she admitted. "If anyone had seen the way I enticed Joshua…" her eyes grew large and she shook her head "…I would have been called a brazen hussy."
Her light chortle echoed softly. "But he was worth the risk," May said, her voice growing hushed. "Oh, my, he was certainly worth the risk."
A silence settled over them as May continued tatting. Chelsea was disheartened by May's silence. She had been thoroughly enjoying this newfound pastime of hers; she'd never sought out someone simply to talk. She'd had to force herself to come in here and start this conversation with May. And now she was reluctant to let it lull and die away.
"So," she hedged, "your relationship with Joshua was special?"
May slowly nodded, her fingers once again growing still. "I enjoyed nearly ten wonderful years of marriage. Oh, we didn't have much. As a seminary professor, Joshua only made a pittance. And his salary as a visiting minister was spotty at best. But I planted a garden, and canned vegetables for the winter. I made quilts and doilies and sold them. I took in some sewing work. Daddy would have helped us out, but Joshua was such a proud man."
The gleam in May's eyes conveyed that she was pleased with that trait in her man.
"We were married on Christmas Eve. The happiest day of my life." Then May's voice fluctuated with heartfelt sadness as she added, "But then World War II came marching along. A day of infamy." The old woman sighed, her eyes growing misty. "Joshua was hell-bent on signing up, and he promptly became a casualty of war."
"Oh, May." Chelsea's own throat ached with the pain and loss that May had felt all those years ago… the pain and loss that obviously continued to haunt her.
"We almost made our tenth anniversary," May said. "But not quite." Suddenly she shook herself, as though physically removing the bad memories and setting them away from her.
She looked at Chelsea and smiled. "But I did enjoy the wonderful fortune of spending over nine wonderful years with the man I loved. Nine years that were a gift from above."
"A gift?"
May's gaze turned soft. "Chelsea, there is absolutely nothing that can compare to the relationship between a man and woman in love. Nothing."
She started her chair to rocking again. "I'm not talking about the physical aspects of marriage. Although that's wonderful, too." She let the cotton thread and shuttle drop into her lap and she paralleled her palms an inch apart in front of her. "When a person can actually touch the soul of another…" she pressed her hands together and closed her eyes "…become one with another human being." May shook her head and whispered, "There is nothing on this earth that can compare with that."
"You loved your husband a lot," Chelsea observed.
May only nodded.
"It's sad that you only had nine years..."
The older woman's face became serene as she said, "One moment in heaven is worth an eternity in hell."
Chelsea couldn't imagine sharing that kind of relationship with someone. She'd come to the stark realization that she loved Ben, that she wanted to be with him, that she wished he felt...
But there her thoughts dwindled. These wants and wishes were all so useless. Empty fantasies that could never be.
"But it takes more than just love."
May's
comment drew Chelsea's attention.
"More?" Chelsea asked.
"It takes commitment..."
I could give Ben that, she thought.
"It takes loyalty..."
I could give him that, too.
"And it takes a mountain of trust."
Chelsea's shoulders sagged and she let her gaze lower to the floor. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and wondered if she could ever allow herself to give Ben her full and complete trust.
"But," May said, "no successful relationship is one-sided. It's a two-way street. Both individuals must be willing to give one hundred percent of the love, commitment, loyalty and trust it would take to make a relationship work. One hundred percent. Otherwise, it will wither and die."
A deep sense of sadness washed over Chelsea at May's comments. No matter what she wanted to give to Ben, be it love, commitment, loyalty or even trust, she could never hope to share the kind of relationship with him that May was talking about. She could never "touch his soul" because he would never be willing to travel the two-way street with her. No, Ben had married her for the sole purpose of saving his orchard. And she had known that going into this farce of a marriage.
"I'll never have that." Chelsea hadn't meant to speak the words aloud, but the expression on May's face had her explaining, "I'll never have what you've described."
"Of course you will," she said.
Chelsea looked at May and couldn't help but notice how sincere she seemed. May really appeared to care about the fact that Chelsea felt she'd never find the kind of life mate that May had found in her Joshua.
But why should May care about her? Chelsea had spent all of her years at Reed's Orchard working to keep everyone at arms' length. She had intentionally kept herself apart. Purposefully kept herself from caring for or about others so that others wouldn't bother trying to get close to her. No, she'd given May no reason to feel anything for her.
A forlorn little half smile cocked up the corner of Chelsea's mouth. "Trust me on this, May. I never will."
