For Now, for Always

by Lynn Turner

  “I thought ydu liked our home,” he said quietly.

  “It wasn’t a home,” Lacey told him in a tired voice.

  “It was just a place to sit and wait for you to come back to when you were finished with your meetings and wanted a little sex.”

  His mouth thinned, and there was a hard glint in his eyes. “Is that all it was to you—sex?” he demanded tautly.

  Lacey forced herself to meet his gaze and answered honestly, “Yes, Neil, that’s all it was. I won’t deny it was enjoyable, but I never felt it meant anything more to you than satisfying a physical need. That’s why that last night was so horrible—you just confirmed what I’d thought all along, that I wasn’t important to you in any other way, that I was just a convenient body, somebody to use when the urge struck.”

  The color faded from his face, leaving his features strained and white. When she’d finished, he abruptly got out of his chair and turned away, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets as he paced to the other side of the office. Lacey knew she had hurt him, but she felt no remorse. After what he’d said about children—saying they’d have been a mistake, and he was thankful they hadn’t had any—she supposed a part of her had wanted to lash out at him in return, to wound him as he’d wounded her. Still, if she didn’t feel remorse, neither did she feel any satisfaction as he turned back to her, and she saw the pinched look around his mouth and nose and the way his eyes were defensively hooded.

  “It seems I’ve got a lot more to make up for than I thought,” he said quietly. “Will you let me, Lacey? Will you at least let me try?”

  The almost humble appeal in his voice was very nearly her undoing. Her shoulders sagged as she slowly shook her head. She felt mentally and emotionally exhausted, drained.

  “Oh, Neil, what’s the use? It’s too late to start over, can’t you see that? We’re not the same people we were then. It just wouldn’t work.”

  He came to face her across the desk, bracing his hands on it as he leaned down to look long and hard into her eyes.

  “It’s not too late,” he denied harshly. “Not unless we want it to be, and I don’tl I want you back, Lacey. Back in my life, where you belong.” He stood back to take a deep breath and run a hand through his hair. “I’ve pushed you too hard, when I swore I’d give you some time to get used to the idea. All right,” he said on a resigned sigh, “I’ll back off a little, I won’t come around for a while, or call you, but you have to promise to think about it, Lacey. I mean really think about it,” he stressed, “I’m not talking about a trial run. I want a full commitment from you, because that’s what I’m offering. I know we can make it work if we try, but we both have to be convinced it’s what we want—a real marriage, a partnership that’ll last the rest of our lives.”

  After he’d gone Lacey sat staring into space for nearly an hour. At first she’d been filled with relief when he promised not to come around or call for a while; it would give her much needed time. Not time to consider what Neil was asking of her—she didn’t know if there would ever be enough time in her life to reach that decision. She needed this time to decide how to tell him about his sons. He had given her a reprieve, but she knew that was all it was. He intended to stay, to make his home here, taking the decision about whether to telJ him out of her hands. If she didn’t, sooner or later someone else would. And heaven only knew how he’d react if he found out about them from anyone else.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Neil had always been a man of action, so Lacey wasn’t really surprised when Gary Baker submitted his name for membership in the country dub that very night. She did kick herself for unintentionally opening the door for him, though she had no doubt at all that Neil would have managed it on his own. Things would just have taken a little longer.

  She listened with all the others while Gary sang the praises of Neil Hartmann, pointing out that he was not only a native son but also an enormously successful man whose experience and “savvy” could prove invaluable to the business community now that he’d decided to retire in his hometown. Leave it to Gary to see the practical benefits of a membership for Neil, Lacey thought with a touch of cynicism. Or, more likely, leave it to Neil to have stressed his business acumen when he approached Gary. After all, he’d been armed with the information she had provided about the club that very afternoon!

  When Gary suddenly turned to her with a beaming smile, her hands clenched in her lap. Here it comes, she thought with grim resignation. Paul shifted in his seat beside her, then reached over under cover of the table and laid his hand on her fists. Lacey appreciated the gesture, but she kept her eyes on Gary Baker.

  “Sorry if I’ve stepped on your toes, Lacey,” he said cheerfully, and she gritted her teeth, “You see,” he explained to the others, “by rights, Lacey should have presented Neil’s name for membership. But though she was his first contact in town, I’m claiming that privilege because I’ve known him longer. Neil tells me he’s bought the old Miller homestead. Right, Lacey?”

  ‘That’s right,” she managed to murmur. He didn’t know! Gary really didn’t knowl Neil had kept his word, after all. But following on the heels of a twinge of guilt came the realization that he had very adroitly put the ball smack in her court. The next move was hers, and Gary gave her the perfect opening.

  “Well, as the first of us to do business with him, Lacey, don’t you agree he’d be an asset to the club?” His smile was benevolent, even a little smug. Poor man, he thought he’d scored quite a coup in presenting Neil to the rest of them. It was almost a shame to burst his bubble.

  “I’m not sure I’m the best person to give a reference for Neil Hartmann,” Lacey murmured in a dry tone. Then she smiled almost apologetically. “You see, Gary, I’m his estranged wife.”

  An hour later she and Paul were having coffee in the dinette adjoining Lacey’s kitchen. The twins were in bed, and Mrs. Moore had gone. With a grin Paul shook his head.

  “I thought poor Gary was going to choke. I believe that is what’s known as dropping a bombshell,”

  “You think it’s amusing, do you?” Lacey asked. She wasn’t smiling,

  Paul shrugged and sipped his coffee. “The situation he put you in, no, that is not amusing. But you must admit that the looks on their faces ranged from comical to hilarious. You do realize that with the directors’ recommendation, the membership committee is sure to accept him? Will it disturb you to come in frequent contact with him?”

  Lacey stared down into her cup. “If Neil has his way, our contact will be more than just frequent,” she said quietly. She felt Paul’s eyes on her and reluctantly lifted her head to meet them. His expression was solemn, thoughtful.

  “I see. And you., how do you feel? Do you want what he wants?”

  “Oh, Paul, I don’t knowl I haven’t even adjusted to the fact that he’s actually here!” She rubbed her fingertips at the spot over the bridge of her nose where a headache was trying to take hold. “For myself, the answer is an unequivocal no. The last thing I want is to become involved with him again. But I have to think of the boys. Do I have the right to deny them a normal family life?”

  “Yes,” Paul murmured in agreement, “that is a problem. How did he react when you told him about them?”

  “I haven’t,” Lacey admitted heavily.

  “Lacey!”

  “I know. I know!” She hesitated, not wanting to tell him everything. “It’s a difficult situation, Paul. I just haven’t been able to find the right way to do it.”

  “But you must, and soonl” he insisted. “After tonight, it is only a matter of time until someone mentions his.sons to him.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll have to tell him the first chance I get. The next time he comes by—”

  “Don’t wait for him to come byt” Paui sounded exasperated. “Call him yourself, or seek him out. Lacey, you have already put this off far too long!”

  She was shaking her head wearily but adamantly. “No, I can’t be the one to m
ake the next move. If I went to him, he’d take it as a sign that I’d given in. It would be like waving a white flag.”

  “You make it sound like a war,” Paul said skeptically.

  She sighed. “In a way, it is. A war of wills, i lost the last one, but I have no intention of losing this one. No, I’ll just have to wait for him to contact me again. Knowing Neil, I doubt if it’ll be very long,” she added dryly.

  In fact, an entire week went by without a sign of Neil. Tidbits of information trickled in to her about him: he’d hired a plumbing contractor and a roofing contractor and practically bought out the town’s two lumber companies. People who came into the office were full of news about the eccentric millionaire who’d bought the old Miller place out on Clay pool Road and was throwing money away on it hand over fist, which told Lacey that word apparently hadn’t spread that she and Neil were married. In a way she was glad, but it also made her uncomfortable to have to stand and listen politely to the latest gossip about him. What were these people going to think when they found out they’d been passing on rumors and bits of speculation to his wife? They’d be embarrassed, certainly. Enough to take their business elsewhere?

  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave. ..” she told herself as she locked up the office on the Friday afternoon of the following week. In all fairness, if she was going to be angry or irritated, it had to be at herself. Neil was only keeping his word, after all; it was up to her to set the record straight about their relationship. But why hadn’t he called or come by the office? Was he trying to wear her down by straining her nerves to the breaking point?

  After supper she worked off some of her tension by running two miles. Instead of following her into the driveway when they returned home, the boys rode their bikes up the block lo the Crawfords’. Danny Crawford was their age, and his brother Brian a year older. The four of them were nearly inseparable; if they weren’t playing at the Crawfords’, they were usually at Lacey’s, She called after them to be home before dark, then raised the garage door to take out the lawn mower.

  Forty-five minutes later she was hot and sweaty, red in the face and sporting several shallow but nasty-looking scratches from a pyracantha bush. Although the plant was supposed to train itself to climb the wall on the far side of the garage, it chose to grow straight out into the yard. Every time she tried to mow under it the long thorns flayed the mower, herself, or both.

  “Damned menace,” Lacey muttered as she shut off the mower. “That’s the last time you lie in wait for me. I should have done this months ago.”

  She pushed the mower back into the garage, then came out again carrying a handsaw. She was in the middle of amputating the last branch when Neil’s truck pulled into the drive. She didn’t even hear the quiet, powerful engine and only straightened in surprise when he exclaimed, “What do you think you’re doing!”

  Lacey’s head snapped up and she stared at him with her mouth open. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might come to the house.

  “You look tike you just fought the battle of Armageddon,” he drawled as he frowned at her, hands on his hips. “And lost.”

  “There’s the culprit,” she said, indicating the stack of branches at her feet. “Percy Pyracantha. But he’s slashed his last victim, the vicious little carnivore.”

  Neil’s bushy eyebrows rose in amused surprise. “Percy Pyracantha?” he repeated soberly.

  Lacey nodded and barely managed to keep her own mouth from curving into a smile. Of course he thought it was funny for a grown woman to be naming shrubs and bushes. Actually, it was the boys’ doing; they named everything, even the spiders they occasionally found in the laundry room.

  “Looks like you could use some first aid,” he remarked as he eyed her bare limbs, and for the first time Lacey became aware of how she must took.

  She was still wearing her running clothes: bright green shorts and a tank top, jogging shoes with a yellow stretch terry sweatband around her head. The picture of poise and sophistication, she thought wryly. But come to think of it, he wasn’t exactly dressed to kili, either. He had on a plain blue chambray work shirt, sneakers and jeans—jeans! Since when had Neil owned a pair of jeans? Or sneakers, either, for that matter? One heavy black brow quirked when he noticed the way she was staring at him, and he spread his arms and did a slow turn in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Like it? It’s the latest in menswear from Levi Strauss.”

  “Mucho macho,” Lacey approved soberly, and he grinned.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in? I could kiss your scratches all better.”

  “I think I can manage,” she answered. “But I will ask you in. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  She offered coffee or lemonade, and he surprised her by asking for the lemonade. He wandered around the kitchen while she got ice from the freezer and poured them each a tall glass.

  “Nice house,” he remarked as he peered around the corner of the dinette, where the floor plan divided into upper and lower levels. “Bedrooms upstairs and rumpus room down, right?”

  “We call it the family room,” Lacey corrected absently. She found the box of antiseptic pads in a cabinet and started cleaning the scratches on her arms and legs. There was one on her left elbow deeper than the rest, and she winced slightly as the antiseptic stung. Neil was suddenly at her side, his long fingers cool on her skin as they curved around her arm.

  “Here, let me.” He took a fresh pad from the box and very gently cleaned the scratch. Lacey made herself stand absolutely still, though her instinctive urge was to pull out of his grasp and move away.

  She had to keep her wits about her, she told herself sternly. It was foolish and weak-minded to let his touch, his very nearness, affect her like this. She thought she caught a whiff of turpentine. Had he been painting? Odd, she somehow couldn’t picture Neil with a paintbrush in his hand. A telephone, a brandy snifter, one of his specially blended cigars— she could imagine those lean, strong fingers holding many different things, but not a brush dripping wet paint. Her eyes lifted and then widened in astonishment.

  “You’ve got blue paint in your hair!”

  Neil’s lips twitched at the disbelief in her voice, then he bent to plant a light kiss on her elbow.

  “There, all better. You like that shade of blue, don’t you? At least you used to.”

  “Yes. I mean, I still do, but—”

  “Good. I’m glad I haven’t wasted a whole afternoon and two gallons of paint. Don’t ask, it’s a surprise,” he said as he perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and took a long thirsty drink of his lemonade. “Mmm, that hit the spot. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Lacey felt a mixture of nervousness and exasperation. Neil never gave anything away, and nothing got to him unless he let it. What would it take to shatter that iron control? She was tempted to simply blurt out that he had two seven-year-old sons and see if that would do it, but before she could act, Neil muttered something and slid off the stool, striding angrily across the room.

  “Good Lord, this one must be a midget,” he said in disgust as he bent to pick up an object on one of the chair seats.

  He held it up, and Lacey nearly burst out laughing. It was one of Todd’s—or maybe Scott’s—shin guards.

  “Do all your lovers leave their equipment lying around the house?” he grated as he flung the slim piece of curved plastic onto the table. “And are they all dwarfs?”

  Lacey conquered the hysterical urge to giggle. “No, to both questions. As a matter of fact, that happens to belong to—”

  “Mom!”

  The sound of the front door slamming punctuated the childishly high-pitched call. Lacey halted with her mouth still open. Neil’s face went very still, and then a look of contempt came into his startled eyes.

  “My God, Lacey!” His voice was low and harsh, an accusation. No, worse, a condemnation.

  “Mom! You in the house?”

  “In the kitchen,” she called bac
k. She folded her arms as she held Neil’s eyes.

  “Me and Todd want to know—”

  “Todd and I,” Lacey corrected automatically as Scott strolled through the kitchen door. She watched Neil’s face closely as he got his first look at the boy.

  She estimated it took about three seconds for the realization to clobber him over the head.

  “Todd and I want to know can we sleep outside in the tent tonight, and can Danny and Brian come, too? Their mom says okay if you do. Hello.” The last word was directed with a dimpled grin at Neil.

  Neil swallowed hard, as if there was something large lodged in his throat. His face had drained of ail color. “Hello,” he responded in a hoarse whisper.

  “Well, can we, mom?”

  The front door slammed again, and Lacey drew a deep breath.

  “Scott, did you ask her? What did she say?”

  Running feet sounded across the tiled entry and were muffled by the dinette carpet before Todd skidded to a halt beside his brother just inside the kitchen.

  “Mom? Can we? Please? It’s not gonna rain. We listened to the radio already, and Mrs, Crawford said it’s okay with her if it is with you,”

  Breathless and wide-eyed with anticipation, Todd gazed up at his mother. He didn’t notice the stranger standing rigid with shock on the other side of the table until Scott nudged him in the ribs and jerked his head in that direction.

  “Oh, hi,” Todd said sheepishly, then grinned. His grin was identical to Scott’s, right down to the dimples. One of Neil’s hands groped for the back of a chair. His pallor and the glazed look in his eyes worried Lacey. She’d known it would be a shock, but he actually looked as if he might pass out.

  “All right,” she said hastily, diverting the boys’ attention. “Go tell Danny and Brian it’s okay, and then the four of you can get the tent out of the garage.”

  They ran out with whoops of glee, and she turned to Neil in concern. “Are you all right?”