The Husband Campaign

by Barbara McMahon

  “Sounds fine with me,” Kerry said, glad to have someone else take charge for a change. She’d been living on her own for so long, it was nice to be cosseted.

  “I think I’m in love,” Sally said abruptly.

  “Again?” Kerry said, unsurprised. Her cousin was in love with someone new every time she saw her. And it usually lasted a month or two and then she’d move on. Did she fear commitment? Maybe there was something in the water. Jake Mitchell never committed to a woman. West Bend, North Carolina appeared on the outside to be the perfect rendition of a friendly southern town. Yet her cousin was twenty-nine, same age as Kerry, and she had not found the right man yet. Of course, Kerry thought ruefully, neither had she. But she had a reason. Not that she would ever tell anyone that Jake had spoiled her for other men. She used him as the measure for everyone she dated. So far, no one else had come close.

  “Who’s the lucky man this time?” Kerry asked pushing back the sheet to get up. She crossed to her carryall and began looking in it for something to wear until she unloaded the car.

  “He’s a friend of Jake’s, actually. Moved here on Jake’s recommendation. His name is Greg Bennet, and he’s the newest vet in town.”

  “Vet? An army vet?”

  “Veterinarian.”

  Kerry paused and turned to stare at her cousin. “Veterinarian? Sally, you don’t even like animals.”

  “That’s what he does. I don’t have to do anything with animals. But I’m really interested in him as a man. He’s fun to be with and doesn’t talk shop.”

  “How old?”

  “He knew Jake in college, so he’s about the same age.”

  “Never married?”

  Sally shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything? You and I have never been married either.”

  “But we’re still in our twenties.”

  “Right, for a few more months,” Sally said dryly.

  “The point is that we’re still young, Jake’s thirty-four.”

  “And that’s old? It’s only five years older than we are.”

  “We both know Jake has no interest in getting married.” She paused a moment, remembering his scathing laughter when she’d shyly shared girlish dreams with him one summer. The humiliation had run deep at the time. “We both know why Jake’s in his mid-thirties and still unmarried. But what’s kept this Greg from forming some lasting commitment before now?”

  “Good grief, Kerry, how should I know? Maybe he was waiting for me. Just because a man isn’t married by a certain age doesn’t mean he won’t ever marry. Not every man is as cynical as Jake. Besides, who knows, maybe one day the right woman will come along and find a way to get around even Jake’s defenses.”

  Kerry looked out the window. At one time she had fervently wished she would be that woman. But she’d grown up over the last few years. And the events of the past few months firmly showed her the error of tilting against windmills! She’d learned to stop beating her head against an immovable barrier. Practical would become her new watchword.

  She looked at Sally and smiled. “I’m happy for you, Sally. When can I meet him?”

  Mollified, Sally bounced up. “This weekend for sure. I’ll have you both over for dinner or we can go out or something. Hurry and get dressed, there’s lots to do today. I have to make the most of my time. I’m not normally a lady of leisure like you, remember?”

  It was late afternoon by the time Sally dropped Kerry at home. Lunch at the country club had been pleasant. Kerry spoke with a couple of friends from the past who wanted to know how long she’d be visiting, and they made plans to get together. Sally had then dragged her to the new mall, to show off the stores, and urged Kerry to get a few new things.

  Shopping with her cousin could wear anyone out, Kerry thought as she waved at the departing car, though Sally’s intent had been to cheer her up with new clothes. Smiling, she headed for the house. It had worked. The two sundresses she’d bought were totally unlike the severe business suits she’d worn for the last seven years. She loved New York, but it hadn’t taken a day to fall back into the slower rhythm of West Bend. Was she a chameleon that changed colors to suit her background, only in her case changing lifestyles to suit her locale? She liked the slower pace. It suited her own state of mind right now.

  “Kerry?” Jake called.

  She turned. What was it about Jake Mitchell that threw her into such turmoil? She had met handsome men in New York, successful, dynamic. Yet none of them had set her nerves on end, dampened her palms and interfered with her breathing.

  Jake looked as if he’d just come from his office. The light gray suit was formal, nothing like the cutoffs of yesterday. His white shirt and silver tie emphasized the deepness of his tan. It was just early June and he already had a tan. She felt anemic next to him. A few days by the pool would change that.

  “Hi, Jake,” she said calmly, belying the involuntary butterflies dancing in her stomach. It wouldn’t hurt to look, she argued, as her eyes feasted on the man. His tie was loosened and his shirt unbuttoned at the top. She liked him better in cutoffs, she thought irreverently, though the style of his suit showed off his broad shoulders, his tall lean frame. His gray eyes seemed to peer right into the heart of her and she dropped her gaze lest some lingering foolishness showed.

  “You ran off pretty quick last night,” he said when he reached her.

  “I was tired. It was a long drive.” She didn’t have to answer to him. She’d long ago given up on the man, so she saw no point in wasting time. Frankly, she didn’t have the energy yet to join in some verbal sparring and come out ahead—or even hold her own.

  He reached out and gently traced the skin beneath her eyes with a fingertip. “You look a bit better today, but still tired. Tough few months?”

  “I’ve had better.” Even when his hand slid into his pocket, she felt the lingering impression of his touch. Swallowing hard, she reminded herself she was not interested in the man.

  Not, not, not, she chanted inside, wishing she could believe it. There was no point in submitting herself to dreams that something would come of his neighborly greeting. He and his brother and father had lived next door to her aunt and uncle for years. When his father retired to Florida, Jake had bought the home and continued to live in it. Her Aunt Peggy kept her fully informed of the doings in West Bend.

  Except for his years at college and law school, the house next door had been Jake’s home all his life. He had the roots she’d longed for.

  But it wasn’t roots that caused her awareness of the man. It was his own presence, his dark good looks, his eyes that seemed to see down into her soul. His humor had enchanted her as a younger woman, his arrogance and self-assurance appeared so glamorous to someone who had felt shy, uncertain and out of place for much of her childhood.

  When she’d been younger, Kerry had flirted for all she was worth in an effort to make him interested. First she’d been too young. He’d treated her casually, like a younger sister. Then when she’d grown up, Jake had changed and become cynical and bitter and took no pains to hide the fact from her or anyone else.

  “Finally tired of New York?” he asked, his gaze moving across her face. He’d seen the shadows beneath her eyes—did he also see the weight she’d lost?

  “Tired, in any event. I’m here on vacation. Maybe I’ll see you around.” She smiled politely and turned back to the house. She’d taken a dozen steps when he spoke again.

  “If you need anything, call me.”

  She turned around and began walking backwards. “Thanks, Jake, but Sally’s nearby. And it’s not as if I don’t know my way around.”

  He stood with his hands in the pocket of his trousers, his gaze steady. Again she noticed how his starched white shirt contrasted with the deep bronze of his tan. How much time had he spent outdoors this spring? A successful attorney would be too busy to have a lot of time to spend idly in the sun. She wondered how his practice fared. She knew he was formidable in the courtroom. When h
e’d first started, she’d attended a court session to see him in action. The intervening years had honed his skills, she was sure. Though even in the early days, he’d been dynamic.

  “You haven’t been here for a while. Things change,” he called.

  “I’ve made a few visits—I was here two Christmases ago,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. The front porch stood only six feet away.

  “And before that it was a couple of years, I believe.” He took a step toward her, as if to close the distance between them.

  She smiled involuntarily. He sounded as if he were cross-examining a witness. How accurate did she have to get?

  “That’s right. I really have to go, Jake. These packages are getting heavy. See you.” She turned and ran lightly up the front steps and into the house.

  Jake watched Kerry skip up the steps to the porch. For an instant he stared after her. Something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it nagged at him.

  Suddenly, he realized what it was, what had changed. Kerry made no attempt to flirt with him. All the years he’d known her, she’d flirted for all she was worth. As a teenager, she’d hung around and had done all she could to test her new-found femininity on him. Even while she’d been in college she’d tried to get his attention. He hadn’t seen her in years. Where had he been Christmas two years ago?

  And what had caused the change? Her smiles seemed polite, yet her manner had been decidedly un-Kerry-like. Distant, disinterested. Had she finally gotten over her crush on him? Her persistence had been embarrassing when he’d been younger. Then amusing during his college days. Finally annoying. He’d told her so, if he remembered correctly. Obviously he had convinced her.

  He’d had no time for starry-eyed teenagers bent on a grand love affair. He didn’t plan to repeat the mistakes of his father. His mother hadn’t stuck around, leaving instead for the glamor and excitement of New Orleans. And after Selena, he’d begun to view all women with a jaundiced eye. Maybe his father had been right, women couldn’t be trusted. A man was better off on his own.

  Still, for years nothing had diminished Kerry’s determination. Until now.

  Not that he wanted her to have a crush on him, or flirt with him every time they met. There was no future in it for either of them. But oddly he felt something was missing with her lack of interest. Had he gotten so used to her devotion he now expected it?

  What had she been doing these past years? Peggy Porter had mentioned at one point that Kerry worked in an advertising firm as a project manager or something. He wondered if she enjoyed living in New York—she looked exhausted.

  He turned toward his house, anxious to change out of the hot clothing he’d worn to work. How long did Kerry plan to visit? Not the entire summer as when she was a child, he felt sure. But long enough for him to see her a couple of times? Hear about life in New York? She would be his neighbor, might as well do the right thing.

  Jake walked back to his place, curious about his temporary neighbor. Maybe it was nothing more than Kerry had finally grown up. Maybe now their relationship would evolve into a comfortable neighborly friendship like he enjoyed with her cousin Sally.

  Jake snagged his briefcase from the front seat of his car and headed inside to change. It was hot for early June. The humidity level rose steadily each day and he knew the summer would arrive in full scorching force before long. In the past he would have known it was summer by Kerry’s arrival.

  He didn’t remember much about the summers he’d been in college. Of course falling for Selena had taken his mind off everything else. To find out she’d lied about everything, had used him for her own means had cut deep. That discovery caused his vow that entanglements with women were thereafter forbidden. Casual dates set his limit.

  But sometimes in the dark of midnight he wondered if he really wanted to spend his entire life alone. Would he ever get lonely enough that he’d chance a more permanent relationship? Find a woman he could tolerate enough to have children with? He thought he might like to have some kids. He wondered if his brother ever thought about getting married. Nieces or nephews might satisfy these odd thoughts about children.

  After changing into comfortable chino slacks and a cotton polo shirt, Jake went back downstairs. His house was built similarly to the one next door; both were two stories tall, with high ceilings and large rooms. He’d made few changes since his father moved south. The comfortable and sturdy furniture had been there as long as he remembered, acquired for comfort rather than for esthetic beauty. Solid upholstered furniture his father had chosen when his wife had run away and never returned. There was nothing in the house to show his mother had ever lived there. For a moment Jake tried to picture some of the furnishings that had been around when he’d been very small. Only a hard, cherrywood chair came to mind.

  Jake didn’t remember much about his mother. His brother, Boyd did, but he was three years older than Jake, had been ten when their mother left.

  Mrs. Mulfrethy came once a week to vacuum and dust. The rest of the time he was on his own. Which was the way he liked it.

  He pulled a beer from the refrigerator and looked out the window. He could see into the Porters’ backyard. It was empty. Was Kerry cooking dinner? Had she made plans for the weekend? He’d further satisfy his curiosity by spending a little time with her. Dinner at the barbecue place on Route 23 would offer her down home food she probably hadn’t had in New York. And the atmosphere was casual. Nothing she could read into dinner together. Though she didn’t seem to be reading anything in his direction.

  Giving in to instincts, Jake reached for the phone. Kerry answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Kerry. Thought we could get dinner together on Saturday,” he said easily, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He knew there was a danger she’d immediately assume he was interested. But he could deal with that.

  “Sorry, Jake. I’m already busy. Thanks anyway.”

  Startled, he realized he’d expected her to leap at the opportunity. Another indication of the change in her attitude and maybe his. Was that a trace of disappointment he felt?

  “No problem. How about Friday?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nope, sorry, already going out to dinner. Maybe some other time. Oops, I have to go, the timer just went off. ’Bye.”

  He looked at the phone before he replaced it. “A bit cocky in our old age, aren’t we, Jake?” he said aloud. “Thinking she’d jump at the chance to go out with you.” If he needed further proof that she no longer had that damn crush, he’d just received it.

  Suddenly, his interest rose. One of the facets of becoming a successful lawyer was questioning things until he understood every aspect. Kerry’s behavior was totally at odds with what he had come to expect from her. Intrigued, he wanted to know why. And find out a bit more about what she was doing with her life.

  Perseverance was another trait of a successful attorney. He’d try again. She could not have already booked every night of her entire visit. She’d just arrived—how many evenings had she already committed? Tomorrow he’d call again, and nail down a day.

  The clock on the mantel chimed nine when Kerry went to bed. Still feeling tired and a bit listless, she wanted an early night. Her day with Sally had done a lot to raise her spirits and she could feel some of her enthusiasm return when she looked at the journal still resting on the bedside table.

  Slipping beneath the covers, she reached for the book, opening it with a sense of adventure that had been long missing. In only seconds she became totally engrossed in the scenes unfolding between the pages. Her great-grandmother had painted a very detailed picture of her life, of her parents and brothers and sisters. The descriptions were enthralling and Kerry felt as if she were meeting each of these ancestors in person.

  Then the tone changed. Megan had written:

  Turning eighteen is a milestone. Sometime soon I will have to find a husband and settle down to the life for which I was raised.
Patricia Blaine has already become engaged and she is but seventeen. I know my future husband is out there, but it may be up to me to find him. I’ve asked my mother and aunts about this, wanting to do the best I can for myself. And they’ve given advice, some contradictory, some old-fashioned. But from everything I’ve heard, I have decided to devise a recipe for finding the perfect mate for a perfect marriage.

  “Well, Great-grandma Megan, I hope it’s a good recipe. I could use one myself. If you think eighteen is old, what would you have thought about twenty-nine and unwed? And with no man even on the horizon,” Kerry muttered as she turned the page.

  The first thing to always remember is that a man likes to do the chasing—just make sure not to run so fast he can’t catch you. An occasional glance in his direction would be acceptable, I believe, but in this wild and open time demure and shy are strong lures. I would never be so bold as to brazenly speak first to a man, or show by my demeanor that I was interested in him. He needs to be the hunter, so Aunt Thomasina said. Though most of the men around here no longer hunt, it must be a trait from the Colonial days when hunting was so necessary for survival. So I’ll be the quiet prey and let the man chase after me. Showing casual interest should work. I wonder if Frederick has noticed me. I could walk past him at church on Sunday and make sure I do not acknowledge him until he notices me. Would it work?

  Kerry skimmed the next few pages until she came to the entry for Sunday. Avidly caught up in the story of her grandmother’s plotting, she was anxious to see the result of the first of her recipe ingredients. She’d never known her great-grandfather and couldn’t remember his name. And she’d only met Great-grandma Megan once long ago. Madacy had obviously been her maiden name but what had her married surname been? Her mother’s grandmother, Kerry wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her great-grandmother’s full name. Did her recipe succeed or fail with Frederick?