Garden Of Fantasy

by Karen Rose Smith

  "I don't see how my giving you a car affects anyone else."

  "It affects the way I think about myself. I want to make my own way." She could see Nash still didn't understand. She touched his arm. "Thank you for your offer. I appreciate it. But this is important to me. It has to do with self-respect."

  "I don't agree with your position. But I'll accept it."

  That's one of the qualities she loved about Nash. Even if he didn't agree with her, he accepted her.

  When Nash pulled up in front of her apartment, no one was waiting. "I guess they're running late. Pops probably saw something interesting and they stopped."

  Nash unfastened his seat belt and shifted in his seat to face her. "I'm glad you called me instead of a cab."

  She laughed. "I knew you'd be more dependable."

  He took her hand in his. "I mean it, Beth. It makes me feel good that you can depend on me."

  "I haven't wanted to depend on anyone for a long time." She squeezed his palm. "Relying on you feels right. I don't lose who I am. You let me be my own person."

  Nash leaned across the gearshift to give her a lingering, sweet kiss. When he settled back, he ran his fingers over the knuckles of the hand he was still holding. "You have lovely hands. Expressive hands. They can make me crazy with wanting you."

  His words could do the same thing as one of his kisses. Combine them, and her knees shook even though she was sitting. Attempting to defuse the steamy atmosphere, she stroked his forearm. "And you have strong arms that make me feel safe...protected. It's a nice feeling."

  Realizing she was trying to put a lid on their passion, he chuckled. "Tonight do we shoot for crazy or nice?"

  "Tonight, we can shoot for both."

  Nash's lopsided smile said he approved. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Enjoy your visit. Is there anything I should know before I see your parents?"

  "Nervous?"

  His shoulders rose and fell. "Not exactly. But I don't want to make any gaffes."

  "Just be yourself. And don't take Pops too seriously. He likes to joke around."

  ***

  Beth remembered her comment to Nash as she brought her parents glasses of iced tea. Pops had been in her living room for almost an hour and had hardly teased her at all. That wasn't like him.

  He ran a hand over his balding head and exchanged a look with his wife.

  Beth set the tray of glasses on the coffee table. "Okay, you two. What's going on?"

  Marie nodded to her husband as if to say, "Let's get this out of the way so we can enjoy our visit."

  In response, Cliff Terrell crossed his arms over his pot belly and gave his daughter an apologetic smile. "Darlin', sit down. We have something to discuss with you."

  "Why do I have the feeling I don't want to hear this?" Beth chose the swing chair so she didn't have to sit still.

  Her father's eyes gentled, reminding her of the time she'd been cut from the basketball team and he found her crying on her bed. "Now, it's nothing bad. Just something you need to think about and maybe take care of."

  "Don't talk the whole way around the country, Cliff. Get to the point," his wife scolded.

  Beth's heart started beating faster despite her father's reassurance. "Somebody tell me!" She pushed against the floor with her toes.

  Her father cleared his throat. "John called us."

  Beth nearly jumped out of her chair. "John? Called you?"

  "Yes, he wanted to--"

  "How dare he--?"

  "Now, let me finish. He wanted to talk to me."

  Her voice was icy. "You didn't, of course. He did enough damage to all of us."

  Cliff's apologetic expression deepened. "Once upon a time, Katie, I liked and respected John Winston. I never would have brought him home from the tavern and introduced him to you otherwise."

  "I don't understand why--"

  "I had to see if I'm as poor a judge of character as I was beginning to think I was."

  Beth moved up from the swing to sit on the arm of the sofa next to her dad, battling her anger to assuage her father's feelings of self doubt. "Pops, you're a great judge of character. Neither of us realized how John was using us, that's all."

  Her mother shook her head. "Honey, you can't get cynical because of this."

  Beth studied her mother--her brown hair untouched by gray, her face only very lightly lined. Maybe it was her attitude that kept her young. She was always optimistic, determined to think the best of anyone. "I'm not cynical, just cautious these days."

  Cliff patted Beth's arm. "John's not a bad man, darlin'. He was desperate. He wanted out of his marriage for years and he didn't have the guts to start a new life or rock the boat. We inadvertently handed him the opportunity by opening our home to him as a retreat from the pressures he felt coming from all sides. The more time he spent with us, the more his wife suspected he was having an affair. He didn't mean to drag you through the mud."

  Not at first, maybe, but he'd done a hell of a good job of it. She thought back to the beginning in an attempt to understand her father's apparent aboutface. When Beth had first met John, he'd been the perfect friend. He'd listened to her hopes and dreams about finding a man to love, her professional goals, her plans for her life. And she had listened to him.

  "Then why did he let his wife think he was unfaithful with me to get out of the marriage? The whole idea was crazy."

  "You could have made a public statement," Cliff stated for the umpteenth time since the story broke.

  "Nobody would have believed me. Besides, I knew how unhappy John was." Her thoughts drifted again, this time to hours spent riding through the country with John, long walks in tall grass, evenings in Pops' tavern when she'd thought John was her friend.

  Wistfully, she said, "You taught me loyalty, Pops. At the time, I thought keeping quiet was the best way to go."

  Her mother said quietly, "And you were right. Because you did it for a friend."

  She'd given John compassion, encouragement, loyalty because that was the way she'd been raised. But now? What were her parents asking?

  "You were John's best friend for over a year. He talked to your father because he's worried about you. He wants to see you." Her mother's voice was calm, soothing.

  Beth stood and went to stare out the front window. The sun bounced off the maple trees, turning the leaves to silver. "He sent me a letter asking me to meet him."

  "It might be a good idea," her mother said tentatively, but Beth could tell she'd thought about the possibility long and hard.

  "How can you say that? I don't want anything more to do with him. The loan's paid off. We're finished."

  Cliff shook his head. "That's the point. We don't think you are. You haven't faced John since the day the paper came out with a picture of the two of you on the front page. It's not like you to avoid unfinished business."

  Beth sighed. "What good would it do?"

  Her mother's answer was quick. "You could go on with your life. Tell John how much he hurt you, how you felt. Yell, scream, do whatever you have to."

  Beth plopped down on the floor, sitting Indian fashion. "I am going on with my life. "I have Nash--"

  "Do you love him?" her mother asked, her head tilted inquisitively, inviting further confidences.

  The answer when it came felt unshakably right. "Yes."

  "Does he know about the scandal?" Marie asked.

  Beth couldn't control the wave of fear that rolled over her. "No." She couldn't explain. She didn't know how to. Her feelings for Nash were tied to some elusive hope that her past didn't matter.

  Cliff sat forward, his hands capping his knees. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Katie darlin'. Why haven't you told him?"

  "Because I'm afraid he won't understand," she blurted.

  Cliff opened his mouth, but Marie put a calming hand on her husband's shoulder. "Does he love you?"

  Beth played with the strings on her sneakers. She'd been afraid to ask herself that question. "I don't know. He hasn't
said."

  "If he loves you, honey, he'll understand that you and John were friends."

  Beth straightened her legs in front of her and stared at her mother meaningfully. "Will he? Look how many of my 'friends' didn't."

  "Keeping it from him will only make it that much harder to tell him," Cliff offered.

  "He'll wonder why," Marie added.

  The silence was louder than anything else her parents could have said. Her mother finally spoke. "If you confront John, maybe you can really get on with your life."

  "And start by telling Nash." Beth smiled as hope took root. She could already feel the burden beginning to lift.

  Her father relaxed, leaning against the cushion. "You could come down next weekend."

  "Let me think about it."

  ****

  The open air flea market bustled with activity. Proprietors sold everything from lemonade to sweatshirts. But all the activity didn't mask the fact that Cliff Terrell's eyes were on Nash as he fed Beth a French fry and tenderly wiped the salt from her lips.

  Nash understood. The man was protective of his daughter. Clifford Terrell wore a jovial face and joked like a pro, but he was watchful and nothing slipped his notice. He'd listened to Nash's every word and watched his daughter's reactions. Nash knew he'd be the same way if Christy had lived to-- No, now wasn't the time to think about Christy, Nash thought as he watched Beth move beside her mother to search through a table of genuine leather pocketbooks. Now was the time to think about the future.

  The future that was approaching fast as Cliff Terrell stuffed his hands into the pockets of his plaid shorts and stopped next to Nash. "Beth tells us you do the same kind of work she does."

  Was this where he was supposed to declare his intentions? He hoped not. He wasn't sure exactly what his intentions were just yet. There was still the matter of John Winston to discuss with Beth. "That's right."

  "She also says your work is known all over the country and you're very successful."

  "That's true."

  Cliff's brows lifted owlishly. "I admire a man who can admit his worth." He took a pack of gum from his pocket and flicked a piece into his palm. He offered one to Nash, and at his refusal pocketed it again. "Marie made me give up cigars for this. She said she wants to make sure I'm around as long as she is."

  "Women catch on faster than men."

  Cliff eyed him thoughtfully. "Beth would have my head for this, but I want to know how you feel about her." He popped the stick of gum into his mouth, his gaze narrowing.

  Nash met his eyes steadily. "I care about her a great deal."

  "She's not just one in a string, someone to keep you from being bored?"

  "No, she's not." Nash heard the defensive note in his voice and banished it. He continued evenly, "I respect her and would never do anything to hurt her."

  It was true. More and more Nash was coming to face his feelings for Beth. He was realizing he wanted a second chance at a wife and family. This time he'd do it right. The woman made the difference. The way he felt about Beth made the difference. He was a different person when he was with her. A better person. A complete person.

  Beth's father gave him a probing stare, then nodded as if satisfied with what he found.

  The four of them wove in and out of the market maze, dodging kids and adults, stopping to buy produce from a Mennonite woman, a round of cheddar cheese from an Amish dealer dressed in black, his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his brow.

  Beth took the cheese from her mother and inserted it in one of the shopping bags Nash was carrying. "If we want to go to the dry goods auction, we'd better take this stuff to the car. Some of it needs to go in the cooler."

  Cliff said, "No use for all of us to go. Katie, you can help me. Your mom and Nash can get us seats."

  Beth's head jerked up at her father's use of her pet name, and she snatched a look at Nash. "Pops used to call me Katie when I was little. Katherine's my first name."

  Nash kept his expression bland. "It's a pretty name."

  Before he could say anything else, Beth took the bags from him and handed them to her father. "Let's get these to the car. We don't want to miss any bargains."

  As Beth and Cliff started off toward the parking lot, Nash and Marie headed for a large cement block building. Nash let Marie pass in front of him. "Beth said you've been here before."

  Marie stepped over the threshold and looked over the rows and rows of chairs, merchandise stacked against the side walls, and the platform up front where the auctioneer stood at a microphone. "Several times. This place amazes me. I love the bustle and activity. And I've never seen anything like this auction. You never know what he's going to sell."

  Nash moved as a couple brushed past him to look for seats up front. "I heard the auctioneer gets his bulk quantities from companies that go out of business or trucks that are in accidents."

  "That's right. I bought casserole dishes and generic shampoo last time. I can't wait to see what he puts up tonight."

  Marie had Beth's enthusiasm for life. It manifested itself in her walk; it glowed in her eyes. Nash guided her to four seats in the back of the auction house. He sat down next to her and listened to the hawker describe the merits of a hair dryer.

  Marie's arm brushed his. "You know, don't you?"

  Nash hid his surprise. "Know?"

  Marie's eyes, the same deep brown as Beth's, passed over his face relentlessly. "You didn't even blink when Cliff called Beth Katie."

  Nash didn't know what to do. If she was guessing, if she told Beth before he could that he knew... He didn't want to lie. "I'm not sure I know what you're referring to."

  "Beth's been through a lot. It's hard for her to open up these days." Marie swerved her gaze to the front as if to give him time to think about her words.

  He sighed. Marie's invitation was subtle but unmistakable. If he wanted to know the truth, he could get it from her. But did he want to learn it that way? "Beth hasn't told me much about her past. I want her to trust me enough to tell me herself but..." Nash raked his long fingers through his hair. "I have a lot of questions."

  Marie cocked her head and said gently, "I imagine you do."

  Nash moved in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't understand why she became involved."

  The last rays of sun shining through a high elongated window revealed the same blond highlights in Marie's short cut as in Beth's hair. "It's complicated. But since you want to hear the story from her, why don't you simply ask her about it instead of wondering and guessing?"

  He gave an exasperated shrug. "I want her to trust me enough to confide in me."

  Marie shook her head wisely. "You're playing a dangerous game, Nash. You could lose her."

  He nodded solemnly. "You could be right. I've been thinking about that a lot lately."

  Marie's knowing look said he better think about it more.

  ***

  Beth waved to her parents as their car pulled away from the curb. She went inside and found Nash waiting for her on the sofa with a bag on his lap.

  He ignored her puzzled look. "It's a shame your parents couldn't stay longer than tomorrow."

  "Pops doesn't like to be away from the tavern too long. He thinks they'll lose business if he's not there. Actually, I think he misses talking to all the people who come in." She pointed to the bag on his lap. "What's that?"

  He grinned. "Come look."

  Crossing to him, she took the bag from his lap and peeked inside. She pulled out a silky, deep purple teddy. "Nash, it's lovely. But why--?"

  He stood. "I noticed you like to wear those to bed. And since you won't accept a car, I bought the next best thing."

  She held it up to her shoulders. "Want me to put it on?"

  "We could go to the bedroom and discuss it." He traced his fingers over her lips.

  She parted them and tasted his finger with her tongue. Erotic energy rebounded between them. The passion flashing in his eyes took her breath away. He put his arm aro
und her and led her to the bedroom.

  Nash stepped out of his Docksiders and unzipped his shorts. "I like your parents."

  Beth laid the teddy on the chair, tugged off her socks and sneakers, and pulled her knit top over her head. "They liked you. I could tell." The evening had gone well. But she had to tell Nash about next weekend. During the course of the evening, she'd made up her mind. Her parents gave good advice. "Uh, I have some business to take care of in Leesburg. So, I'm going down Saturday. I'll be back Sunday afternoon."

  Nash went still. "Do you want me to come along?"

  "No! I mean, we wouldn't have time together. I'm not going down until Saturday afternoon. It's only one night." Lord, she was rambling. He was going to get suspicious.

  "I'll miss you," he said simply.

  She stripped off the rest of her clothes quickly. "I'll miss you, too. Nash, it's not that I don't want you along. Some weekend soon we'll go down and spend it with my parents."

  His eyes narrowed pensively. "But this is something you have to do alone."

  "Yes."

  He removed his shorts, then his shirt. "Does it affect us?"

  Even if she'd still been dressed, she'd feel naked. "It might. Don't ask me questions, okay?"

  "Beth." Her name was soft, hardly a whisper. He looked troubled.

  "Nash..." Her eyes pleaded with him.

  "All right. No questions. Not tonight." His eyes embraced hers until she trembled and stepped close to him. He took her in his arms for a tense moment. Their world was gray, hushed, murky because of words unsaid.

  Nash's hands played up and down her back, sending rippling sensations coursing through her body. She found herself matching his motion by stroking his neck and shoulders. She leaned into his arms, needing to forget about the upcoming meeting, needing to chase away all the things she had to tell him. Luxuriating in the pressure of his thighs against hers, she turned toward the warmth of his breath on her neck. The longer he held her, the more she became aware of the changes occurring in their bodies--their accelerated heartbeats, their shorter breaths, their heat coalescing in a cloud around them.

  Nash reached around her and clasped his hands. "Tonight the outside world doesn't exist. It's just you and me."