Husband from 9 to 5

by Susan Meier

  “This is a lovely, large room,” Patricia said, giving Jack a look as if to tell him she didn’t know what else to say or how else to react.

  Before Jack could say anything, Olivia jumped in. “And that must be a great big closet back there.”

  “Oh, it is,” Molly said, striding to the walk-in closet. She pulled open the double doors like a “Price Is Right” model revealing a new prize.

  All the women peered in expectantly.

  Rachel stepped forward. “Molly,” she said kindly. “Honey, I don’t see any of your clothes.”

  “No, I don’t, either,” Molly said, as if this were the first time the thought had struck her.

  “That’s odd for someone who’s been married for six weeks,” Olivia pointed out gently.

  “Two months,” Molly corrected, sounding confused.

  “You told us a minute ago, you’d been married six weeks,” Sophia chided, but kindly.

  “I meant two months.”

  “Your clothes aren’t here and you can’t remember how long you’ve been married,” Olivia said, laying her arm across Molly’s shoulders and directing her to sit on the bed. “Could that be because you aren’t really married?”

  “But I am married....”

  Jack was about to jump in and as gently as possible contradict her, but she turned her tear-filled hazel eyes on him and something inside of Jack melted. Their gazes locked, and for the next several seconds, Jack couldn’t think of anything but how incredibly beautiful she was and how utterly devastated she looked.

  “Jack,” she implored softly, “tell them that we’re married. Tell them how funny our first date was when we had dinner at that restaurant and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” Without giving Jack a chance to answer, she turned to Olivia again. “Surely you remember my wedding. At the least you’ve got to remember my twenty-five-foot Italian lace train.”

  When Olivia didn’t respond, she said, “There is no way you can forget a twenty-five-foot Italian lace train.”

  She faced Jack again. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is a joke, I think it’s very cruel.”

  Her tear-filled eyes held his. “Jack?”

  He swallowed hard.

  “Jack?”

  This time after she said his name, she pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. His heart broke, and he couldn’t do what he knew he needed to do.

  “That’s right, darling. I’m sorry,” he said, rushing to her side to comfort her. “It was a joke and a bad one. I’m sorry. You’re right. We are married.”

  For two seconds there was nothing but complete silence, then Rachel gasped, Olivia groaned. Patricia sighed heavily, Sophia moaned and Cindy fell to the bed in complete disbelief.

  “But where are my clothes?”

  “Some I hid as part of the joke, and others we haven’t moved from your apartment yet,” Jack said, then grimaced. This was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life, but he couldn’t stand to see Molly so hurt. Even going beyond his softhearted tendencies, he had to wonder if there wasn’t something wrong that she was so absolutely positive they were married, and he considered that he might do her more harm than good by forcing her to see the truth.

  “In fact, I’m going to go to your apartment tonight and get everything you’ll need for the next couple of days,” he added. “But I want you to do me a favor.”

  She sniffed back her tears and gave him a watery smile. “What?”

  “I want you to lie down because I’m going to call a friend of mine. He’s a doctor. I’m going to have him stop by just to make sure you truly weren’t hurt last night when you hit your head.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Yeah, but your memory’s a little fuzzy.”

  “I guess,” she conceded and lay down on the bed.

  “Good,” Jack said, and kissed her forehead, then realized that was becoming a habit

  Once he had Molly settled and everyone said their goodbyes to her, he led the women down to the foyer. “Sorry about that,” he said to Olivia and Rachel. “I couldn’t stand to see her so hurt.”

  Olivia sighed. “And you had a point about her memory. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a doctor check her out.”

  “My best friend from grade school is a general practitioner. I’ll call him from Molly’s apartment and have him meet me here in about an hour.”

  “Would you like me to stay with her while you’re gone?” Rachel asked quietly.

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “I was hoping someone would offer.”

  The purse she’d left on his kitchen table contained both a driver’s license with her address and keys to let him into her apartment. Twenty minutes after Molly’s friends left his house. Jack was rummaging through the drawers of the dresser in Molly’s bedroom. His first thought when he stepped into her small apartment was how skillfully she’d decorated the tiny space. The large, curtainless window in the back of the main room gave the place an open, airy appearance. A nubby taupe sofa sat on a black-and-gold area rug. Two black tapestry chairs bordered an oak coffee table, and the whole grouping was surrounded by plants.

  Her bedroom wasn’t the typical female floral fiasco. Instead, it was a blend of rich cherrywood and champagne satin with nuggets of burgundy in the burlaplike rugs and splashes in the multicolored throw pillows. The dresser and vanity were each draped with a champagne satin cloth. Pink and burgundy floral arrangements sat on both bedside tables and nothing, absolutely nothing was out of place. There wasn’t even an errant sock hanging out of a drawer.

  Jack couldn’t help but draw the comparison of how his huge, elaborate house was unkempt and stood practically empty, while her tiny, utilitarian apartment had been made into an elegant, but comfortable, home.

  After removing two pair of jeans, Jack closed the bottom drawer of her dresser. So far he’d located T-shirts, jeans and even a sweater or two, but he hadn’t found any of the things she probably really needed—like clothes for work—not to mention underwear, bras and stockings.

  Of course, he’d confined his search to the lower compartments, remembering that Barbara had placed her soft, intimate apparel in the smaller drawers closer to the top of the dresser.

  With a sigh, Jack braved one of those smaller drawers. Even as he opened it, pastel colors greeted him. Soft pinks. Silky blues. Sunny yellows.

  He swallowed and reached inside. The shimmery fabric glided along his palm and fingertips. Without thought for color coordination or practicality, he pulled out two bras. Fringed by crisp lace, the peach bra dipped low. The black bra had no accoutrements. It didn’t need them. The wicked material in and of itself would be enough to drive a sane man crazy.

  Trying not to look at the underthings any more than he already had, Jack shoved those bras and several pair of underwear into the suitcase he’d found in her closet. It wasn’t hard or unreasonable to imagine Molly wearing any of this. She was a soft, feminine woman. The problem was he didn’t want to imagine Molly wearing soft, satiny things. He didn’t want to imagine Molly as anything other than the intelligent, capable woman that she was.

  Deciding to put himself out of his misery, Jack dumped the contents of her underwear drawer into the suitcase. He found her stocking drawer and did the same. Without any more thought or meandering, he grabbed a nightgown and robe from the back of her bathroom door, then he pulled three dresses from her closet. Since they were still on hangers, he concluded he should probably carry them rather than stuff them into the small piece of luggage.

  With her clothing taken care of, Jack sat on her sofa and called Dr. Tim. Because he got Tim’s answering service, Jack left his cellular number, knowing that if Tim hadn’t called him by the time he got home, he would rather leave another message than risk that Tim would call his home and get Molly. Lord only knew what she’d say to him.

  He gathered Molly’s clothes and started back to his house. Two minutes before he would have pulled into
his driveway, his cellular phone rang. “Tim?” he answered anxiously.

  “Yeah, hey, how did you know it was me?”

  “I didn’t. I was praying it was you,” Jack said, and drove his car into his driveway. “I have a very big, very odd problem.”

  “Well, that’s refreshing,” Tim said cheerfully. “It’s about time you had a problem.”

  “Very funny,” Jack said, opening the door of his Blazer and pulling out Molly’s things before he started up the walk. “I didn’t laugh at you when you couldn’t get hotel reservations in Hawaii. No, not me. Instead, I called to our corporate liaison. I pulled some strings. I got you a room when other, probably more important doctors had to stay home from that symposium.”

  “All right. All right. I get the picture. I’ll stop teasing. What’s up?”

  “One of the women who works for me, a copywriter, got a slight bump on the head last night. I swear she wasn’t even knocked out, but when it was time to go home—in case she was hurt—I thought it would be better for her to spend the night at my house....”

  “Yeah. right,” Tim said, laughing heartily. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that one the next time my mother calls and a woman answers.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Really?” Tim asked, disappointed. “Lord, you’re in worse shape than I thought.”

  “I’m fine,” Jack insisted, determined to keep the conversation on track. “My copywriter isn’t. I mean, she doesn’t seem sick. She isn’t nauseated, doesn’t have a fever and isn’t paralyzed or anything. But something’s not right.”

  There was the slightest pause in conversation, long enough for Jack to recognize Tim had switched from being his overcomical best friend into being a doctor again. “What do you mean something’s not right?” he asked, his tone all business now.

  Jack drew a long. slow breath, not quite sure how to state the obvious. In the end, he decided there was only one way. And that was to get right to the truth. “She thinks we’re married.”

  Tim burst out laughing. “Jack, stop this. Your life might be boring, but I actually have a date tonight. If you only called to be stupid...”

  “I didn’t call to be stupid. I’m serious. The woman thinks we’re married. I don’t know what to do. I can’t send her home like this. I’m afraid to take her to a hospital for fear that will make her worse.”

  “All right. All right. Hold on,” Tim said. “You’re only about ten minutes away from my house. I’ll sweep by there on my way home from the office. I’ll give you my professional opinion and I won’t even charge you for the house call.... But you owe me.”

  “I think this makes us even for Barrington getting you the room in Honolulu,” Jack said, and pushed the button that disconnected the call.

  When he entered his foyer, Rachel greeted him. “She’s sound asleep. Fell asleep the minute you left and hasn’t woken since.”

  Jack blew his breath out on a long sigh. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

  Rachel raised her hands helplessly. “I don’t, either.”

  “At least Dr. Tim is on his way.”

  “That’s a relief,” Rachel said, and headed for the door. “I’d love to stay and help you, Jack, but I have plans for tonight and I can’t break them.”

  “No, Rachel, there’s no need for you to stay.” Truth be known, he didn’t want any more witnesses than he already had. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow morning on how everything goes with Dr. Tim.”

  After Rachel left, Jack checked on Molly. Because she was sound asleep as Rachel had said, Jack snuck downstairs. Afraid to eat what Molly had cooked, he made himself a cup of tomato soup and a toasted cheese sandwich, and switched on his television to watch the news while he ate. Even before he was done, he heard the sound of Tim’s vehicle and met him at the front door.

  “How’s the patient?” Tim asked as he entered. Unlike Jack, who was over six foot, Tim O’Brien was only about five foot nine and appeared to be just this side of chunky. But Tim’s extra weight was mostly muscle. Because he loved rich, calorie-laden food, Tim exercised religiously. He was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. Wavy blond hair and mild green eyes gave him the tranquil, likeable demeanor of everybody’s favorite cousin.

  “Sleeping. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, so I left her alone.”

  “That was probably for the best,” Tim agreed as Jack led him upstairs and to his bedroom.

  Jack stayed for the first of the examination. He watched Tim awaken Molly, watched as her eyes unerringly searched out Jack before she focused on Dr. Tim, and knew what she would tell Tim even before she said it. As Tim peered into her eyes, she confirmed that she believed she and Jack were married. While he studied the inside of her ear, she told stories of their first date. While Tim took her pulse, she gave details from their wedding. During her blood pressure reading, she explained what she planned to do with their house.

  Through it all, Tim stayed straight-faced, not even showing the concern Jack felt ripping through his own nervous system. It was odd, disconcerting, to hear someone talk so seriously about things that had never happened.

  When Tim explained that he’d like to listen to her heart and her breathing, and for that she’d need to unbutton her blouse, Jack left the room. He’d seen enough of her underwear for one day, but more than that, he genuinely was concerned, and he worried that he was in the way—specifically, he had a powerful urge to pace.

  So he left. He made his way to his long, thin, empty den and paced to his heart’s delight. A half hour later, Tim came jogging down the stairs.

  “Jack?” he called, rounding the corner of the dining room, which Jack could see from his den.

  “How is she?” Jack asked, stepping into the dining room.

  “She’s fine. Frankly,” Tim said, grinning from ear to ear, “I’d keep her. She’s cute as a bug’s ear and has every intention of making you the happiest man on the face of the earth. Did you know she wants five kids?”

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

  “Well, she does, and part of the reason she does is because she’s sure you’ll make such a good father. And I agree with her. You will make a good father. I say keep her.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes at Tim. “I don’t find any of this in the least bit amusing. Believe it or not, I’m worried about her.”

  “Well, don’t be,” Tim said, and snapped his black bag closed. “Her parents are Dominic and Darcy Doyle. They sell self-help tapes. Part of what she remembers from yesterday is getting a package from her mother. It was a new tape on visualizing. My best guess here is that she was doing some visualizing of you as a great father, and thinking you’d be a good person to marry and have kids with, when she got knocked over and bumped her head...and somehow reality and fantasy sort of collided.”

  “Well if that doesn’t beat all,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “I think I understand.”

  “Good, because she’s not sick. Physically she’s fine. Mentally, emotionally, she’s fine. I think the combination of her visualization and waking up in your bed planted the notion in her head that you’re married. But since you’ve tried the rational ways of getting that notion out and it didn’t budge, you’re going to have to wait until something equally simple shoves it out.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” Tim said, heading for the front door. “But I think I have some good news.”

  “I’m desperate.”

  “Well, I’d love to string you on into thinking you might have to live with Molly forever, but I really think all you’re going to have to do is take her to work tomorrow. Ever since she hit her head, she’s been in your house—unfamiliar surroundings. Let her get a good night’s sleep, feed her a good breakfast and take her into familiar territory tomorrow morning and my guess is she’ll be back to normal before she gets to her desk.”

  It made sense. It all made perfect sense. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Tim. And forge
t what I said about the room in Hawaii. I do owe you.”

  “Great. I love it when people owe me. And I meant what I said. Take her to work tomorrow and she’ll be fine.”

  Jack said goodbye and closed the door on Tim, thinking his troubles were over. But two seconds after Tim was gone, he realized he was taking Molly into a building with over a hundred people—their friends and co-workers—and if Molly didn’t get her memory back, she could very well tell each and every one of them she was Jack’s wife.

  Chapter Four

  On his way to the kitchen, Jack spotted the suitcase containing Molly’s clothes. For thirty seconds, he debated leaving it downstairs and giving it to her in the morning. But he recognized that seeing her luggage or touching her things might be exactly what the doctor had ordered. If Dr. Tim was correct when he said something familiar would bring back Molly’s memory, then unpacking might actually be enough to pull her into the real world again.

  In fact, Jack realized, what he needed to do was have Molly unpack right now. Because if she got her memory back tonight, then he wouldn’t have to worry about taking her to work in the morning.

  Happy, almost weak with relief from his new idea, Jack grabbed the suitcase and carried it up the steps. When he reached his room, the door was closed, so he knocked twice.

  Molly opened the door with a frown. “What are you doing knocking on your own bedroom door?” she playfully scolded.

  “I, uh, didn’t want to disturb you in case you were sleeping,” Jack said, neatly covering his tracks as he tossed her suitcase to the bed.

  “What is all this tonight? First you play that horrid practical joke,” she reminded him, walking toward him with her fists planted on her hips. “Now you’re acting afraid to come into your own bedroom.”

  When she reached him, she slipped her arms around his neck. “If I didn’t know how much you love me,” she said, smiling up at him, her hazel eyes shining, “I’d think we were having a marital crisis of some sort.”