by Donna Fasano
"Why not?"
That one simple question stumped him for a moment and he sat there with what he was afraid May would describe as a "dumb" look on his face.
"Well," he began, his mind still churning. "I've come to know Chels enough to realize that…" he thought about the misery she'd suffered as a child, how she'd been taken from her abusive mother, how the social workers had lied to her again and again "…actions speak louder to her than words."
He narrowed his eyes at May, as another reason came to mind. "Besides, if I told her how I feel, she simply wouldn't believe me."
May raised her chubby hands into the air. "Well, why in tarnation wouldn't she?" she asked indignantly.
"You see," Ben explained, "Chelsea's mother lost her parental rights when Chelsea was just a little girl. You wouldn't believe how she was treated, Aunt May. It was horrible what she went through. Everybody deserves to be loved by their mother. But Chelsea wasn't. She's carrying around some heavy baggage." He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't know. No, that's not true… I do know. She believes that since her mother didn't love her, then no one else will, either."
"Well, that's just plain stupid, if you ask me," May commented, with an unladylike snort.
Ben realized he'd been doing a lot of head shaking, but he couldn't help it. The frustration was overwhelming. "Somewhere along the line, some asinine social worker put the idea into her head."
"Now, don't degrade every social worker because of one bad apple," May said, shifting her bulk in the chair. "It takes a special kind of person to dedicate his or her life to helping people."
"I understand that," Ben said impatiently. He didn't want to talk about social workers. "But this jerk really messed with Chelsea's head. Along with the fact that her mother abused her, treated her like crap, and the system took her away from the one lady who wanted her."
He heaved another sigh. "It all adds up to Chelsea feeling that she doesn't deserve to be loved."
"And again I say that's just plain stupid."
"I know it is," Ben replied. "Try telling that to Chelsea."
"No, you need to tell her."
Ben felt his frustration boiling over. "I already told you, May. She won't listen to empty words."
"But your words won't be empty," May retorted. "Your words will be full of meaning."
"Chels won't see that," Ben muttered, feeling hopeless and helpless.
"Then do something that will show her how you feel," May snapped.
"Like what?"
May gave a disgusted tisk. "I feel like I'm back in grade school and there's a pop quiz in math. You cannot peek over at my paper, Ben, because I don't know the answer." She rose and went to the door. "You'll have to figure this one out on your own."
"But wait a minute," he said.
"All I do know," May said, unheeding of his plea as she padded toward the door, "is that you have to let Chelsea know how you feel. Whether you tell her or show her, is up to you."
"Aunt May!" Ben called.
She turned back one more time, but not in order to listen to him. "Because if you don't," she continued her lecture, "you're going to lose her and your baby." Her faded green eyes glared at him. "And I've grown fond of the idea of getting to know my great-great- grandniece or nephew."
Her gaze took on a critical gleam as she added, "I only have one question before I go. If you haven't discussed your feelings with Chelsea, how do you know how she feels? How do you know she really wants to leave?"
"That's two questions." Ben nearly growled the words.
"Oh, my," May said innocently, her wrinkled face splitting with a wide grin. "You would have aced that pop quiz, wouldn't you?"
May didn't give him time to think of a rejoinder before she closed the door, and for the second time that morning Ben felt completely and utterly alone.
He picked up the pencil and tapped the eraser on the desk.
Aunt May did have a point. He didn't know how Chelsea felt about him or their marriage.
She cared about him. Or at least she cared about the business. She had shown him that, when she'd offered to give him the money that it had taken her years to save, money that had been meant to settle her and the baby in another part of the country.
But then again, maybe her offer had nothing to do with him. Hadn't she claimed her motivation had been to save the jobs of the men who were employed by him?
Ben leaned back in his chair as a realization struck him. Chelsea had written out the check after she'd found out she was pregnant. His brow furrowed deeply as he considered all the implications.
She knew she would be leaving soon, but she'd tried to give him her money anyway. Why?
Did the gesture mean that she really didn't want to leave Reed's Orchard? Or was he reading something between the lines that really wasn't there? He rested his elbow on the desktop and absently rubbed his jaw.
He accepted the fact that it was hard for her to trust. He even understood why. He had tried so hard to be worthy of it. But maybe the problem wasn't him at all. Maybe she didn't trust herself enough to confide in him.
The thought spurred another, more optimistic one; had her actions spoken louder than her words? Could he surmise from Chelsea's offering of her money, that her feelings for him ran deeper than what she chose to reveal?
At the beginning of their relationship, Ben well remembered Chelsea's cold, clinical idea that he was simply a sperm donor who would fertilize her egg, give her a much-wanted child. He knew that her opinion had warmed a little. Hell, there had been times when she had sizzled. He chuckled.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he wondered if he was crazy to think that she might feel something for him.
One thing was certain, he had to know Chelsea's true feelings, one way or the other. And he simply had to let her know his. If he didn't, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.
But how? Simply telling her was out of the question. He knew very well that she'd never believe mere words. How could he show Chelsea exactly what was in his heart? How could he make her see what she had come to mean to him?
It had to be something big. Something so big that she couldn't mistake his meaning. What could he…?
He sat up straight as an idea struck him with force. Of course! It was perfect.
Deftly, he flipped through the telephone file that sat on his desk and stopped when he found his lawyer's name and number. He punched the buttons on the phone and listened to ringing on the other end of the line.
After speaking to his lawyer's secretary, Ben was put through and he explained what he wanted.
"Can it be done right away, George?" Ben asked, his excitement rising. "I don't care what it costs," Ben responded. "I want it done this week."
What was he saying? This was a crazy time to be frivolous with money. The loss of the peach crop was a terrible blow to...
Hell, Chelsea was worth it. What were a few hundred dollars when he was vying for the love of his life? Crazy problems called for crazy solutions, didn't they?
Ben replaced the receiver, a tiny smile bending one corner of his mouth. He could go into her office right now and tell her what he'd done. But he wanted to wait. He wanted to have the proof in hand when he told her how he felt about her.
He could wait the few days, a week at most, that it would take to get the papers in order. Until then, he'd simply have to hold his tongue and relish the thought of her reaction.
~ ~ ~
After work, Chelsea let herself into Ben's house for what she knew would be the last time. She'd have to remember to return his key.
She lugged her large suitcase out of the bottom of the closet and began to pack her things. Her chest felt empty and hollow as she folded a pair of jeans and tucked them in the case.
The desolation that filled her became overwhelming. She hated the thought of leaving, but she knew it was inevitable. Keeping up her end of the deal was just as important as keeping her pride.
She'd nearly lost every shred of her dignit
y this morning when Ben had cornered her about why she had offered to loan him money. Luckily, the threatened workers had come to mind and she'd seized the excuse with both hands. She'd blatantly lied in order to avoid telling him she loved him. She hated being deceitful, but in that instant she hadn't felt she had any other choice.
Life without him would be desolate. But she'd survive.
Vivid memories of her nights with him called to her from Ben's bedroom and she couldn't help herself… she answered. Tossing aside the cotton camp shirt she'd been folding, she moved with the slow, measured pace of a specter to the doorway of his room.
She stopped short, not daring to cross the threshold. The breath left her body in a hushed sigh at the sight of the bed. Here was the spot where he had taught her what passion was all about. Here was the spot that called to her with irresistible memories, memories of what it was like to make love with the man who meant everything to her.
There would be no more of those nights, as there would be no more picnics, no more walks, no more long talks. He had become more than just her lover, he had become her friend. Now all she had to look forward to were lonely days. And even lonelier nights.
Ben had taught her what love was all about. More than that, he had shown her what it meant to have a true friend. She would miss him.
Hot, salty tears welled in her eyes and slid heedlessly down her face. She pressed her fingers tight against her lips to hold back the sadness that threatened to burst from her. How was she going to survive without Ben?
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, in an effort to get control of her emotions. Emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years because she wanted to avoid the pain. Emotions that Ben had inexorably drawn from her. Emotions with which he'd forced her to become reacquainted.
But this time, she wouldn't regret the ache in her chest. The wound would scar over and heal eventually, just like all the others. But she wouldn't be locking this one away. This one she would cherish. Because it would remind her that she had loved; she had given her heart to a wonderful man.
Again, the question echoed in her head: How was she going to survive without him?
The calm that settled over her took her by surprise. Her palm moved to cover her lower abdomen at the same moment her baby came to mind, and she smiled.
She would be strong and she would survive, because of the child she carried in her womb. This baby was a little piece of Ben, a piece of him that she'd have forever.
Going back to her little brick house for the remainder of her time at the orchard was a good thing. It would give her the time and space she needed to deal with all these haunting emotions. When she finally left, maybe her craving for Ben would have lessened to a more tolerable level.
Going back to her room, she began stuffing items into her suitcase. Shoes on top of dresses, mashed against her alarm clock, jeans, socks, sweaters, shoved next to perfume bottles, hair dryer, books, brush and comb. There was no rhyme or reason to the packing, just a furious, desperate attempt to escape.
Finally, she was forced to sit on the edge of her bed, breathless and weary.
Fresh tears blurred her vision as she suddenly understood the reality of her situation. It didn't matter if she moved a mile away to her tiny ranch house, or two thousand miles away to some unknown city across the country. Nothing would ever lessen the love she felt for Ben. Nothing. And she was doomed to spend the rest of her life yearning for what she could never have.
Chapter Ten
"Chelsea?" Unable to wait for a response, Ben barged into Chelsea's office. The pained look on her face… the same tight expression she'd offered him since he'd discovered she was pregnant… would have been like a slap across the face, but his excitement was running too high for him to be affected.
"Yes?"
She steeled herself, he could literally see it. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, as if she expected him to bring her bad news. This had become second nature since she'd moved out of his house, but that didn't dampen his spirits either.
"Do you have a minute?" he asked. "Can we talk?"
"Sure," she answered.
The questions seemed to make her suspicious.
"I have something I want to go over with you," Ben said, moving over to stand in front of her desk.
He'd barely been able to contain himself since he'd contacted his lawyer to have the new deed to the orchard drawn up. So many times he'd nearly told Chelsea what he'd done. He'd had to force himself to avoid her as much as possible to keep from blurting out his news each time he saw her.
But this morning the papers had arrived by courier, and Ben had almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to bring them to her.
"If it's something concerning the accounts," Chelsea said, "I think you should wait to go over it with the new bookkeeper. I've interviewed one woman in particular who I think will be perfect, but I wanted to get your opinion before I called her this afternoon to make the final arrangements. I was going to talk to you about her this morning."
"This has nothing to do with the business," he told her. "Well, actually it does, but..." The rest of his thought scattered as he suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
His hesitation obviously stirred her confusion, and wariness tainted her tone as she asked, "What is it, Ben?"
He'd pictured this scene a thousand times over the past week, each scenario playing out differently in his mind. He had finally come to the conclusion that, because he wasn't certain of her feelings for him, it would be best if he focused his concern away from their personal relationship. In order to make her listen and believe what he had to say, he'd have to center the conversation on the one thing he was sure they had in common. Their child.
"I know that you're thinking of leaving soon," he said, immediately feeling stupid for having stated the blatantly obvious. "I also know... that you have no family."
Although she remained silent, she crossed her arms over her chest. He'd either tweaked a sore spot or this was a clear sign she was closing herself off.
He hesitated a moment before continuing, "It bothers me to think that my child might be in need of money or... or..." He lifted his free hand. "I've been thinking. I… I don't know much about babies and such, but I want him to have whatever it is he might need."
Suspicion was now firmly planted in her wrinkled brow, in her narrowed eyes. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Are you saying you don't think I can take care of my baby?"
His eyes widened, and after thinking about what he'd said for only an instant, he understood the assumption she'd made. She clearly thought of the baby as hers. Not theirs. Not his.
"No," he hurriedly answered, "I'm suggesting no such thing, Chelsea." Trying another tack, he said, "It's just that I've been thinking that I might like to get to know him. I'd like for him to know me." Softly, he added, "I am his father."
Her reaction to his words was absolute horror; her arms uncrossed and gripped the rests on the chair, her lips parted with a gasp, her eyes rounded.
"You're going against our original agreement." Her knuckles turned stark white. "You promised to let me go, Ben. You promised me that you wouldn't get involved with…"
"Calm down, Chels," he interrupted.
"Calm down? You've decided to go back on your word and you want me to calm down?"
Hysteria fringed her tone, and the fear in her wide-eyed gaze wrenched his gut.
"I'm only trying to explain..." He shook his head. "If you'd just let me finish. I've done something…" he lifted the documents that he held in his hand as evidence "…and I'm trying to ease you in to the idea."
"Ease me in?"
Crap. Would he ever get this right?
"If you feel I need easing in, then you must think I'm not going to like your idea." She was visibly trembling now. "I have to tell you, Ben, so far I don't like a damn thing you've said."
Ben sighed and rubbed the fingers of his free hand across his forehead. He looked at her and took a de
ep breath, in order that at least one of them could keep a clear head. "This is not going at all as I thought it would." He stepped closer to her, and frowned when she leaned away from him.
"What I've been trying to say is… what I've wanted to tell you... is that I don't want you to leave Reed's Orchard."
He gave her time to respond, and when she didn't he explained further, "I don't want you to go, but whether you go or stay, I want you to know that I've taken care of you and the baby. As best I can, anyway."
She stood. "What are you talking about?"
The hard edge in her voice threw him completely off-balance.
"Here," he said, offering her the papers. When she made no move to take them, he lowered his hand to waist level.
What the hell was the matter with her? He was trying to do something good for her here. He was trying to take care of her child. Their child. He'd been hoping that his gesture would prove to her what she meant to him.
Staring down at the deed, his speech took on a mechanical monotone.
"I've put your name on the deed to the orchard. I've made you half owner. As soon as the baby's born, I'll make him… or her… our sole beneficiary."
There it was. Right there for her to see and understand. But there was utter silence on the other side of the desk. He forced himself to lift his gaze from the deed to Chelsea's face. Her stony expression nearly knocked the breath from him. He squared his shoulders, determined to finish what he'd started.
"All you have to do is sign at the bottom," he said. "The deed can be recorded and everything will be legal."
Her eyes froze into chips of dark, shiny ice. Her mouth was set firmly, her posture taut.
"I'm not signing anything," she said. "I won't give you any hold on my child."
"What? What are you talking about? I…"
"Don't play innocent. I know exactly what you're doing. But you better know that I'll do everything in my power to stop you."
Her chest heaved with suppressed anger as she rounded the desk.
"I've known from the start how you felt about me," she said. "And you were so certain you would feel the same way about my baby." She lifted her chin as if daring him to deny that she spoke the truth. "You were so certain that this baby would mean nothing to you. As I mean nothing. Had it been otherwise, you would never have agreed to our deal."
