On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20)

by Lisa Heaton

  Eventually, they pulled through a security gate and into the parking lot of a beautiful condominium complex. “Where are we?” Her heart was pounding. She suspected he may have rented her a condo there, but fear of being way off base and embarrassing herself kept her from saying so.

  “You’ll see,” was his only response.

  They went through a luxurious lobby and to a bank of elevators. He was holding her hand as they waited, whistling, making her even more nervous. Once on the third floor, he led her through a set of double doors and into a magnificent living room with soaring ceilings, reminiscent of old Hollywood. Across the room there were two sets of double glass doors leading out onto a balcony with a fireplace situated between them. Every room throughout the condo was large and airy, each having dark hardwood floors. To the left were a large kitchen and two bedrooms, and to the right of the living room, was an archway leading to the master bedroom. With each room she entered, she found she was more in awe, especially of the kitchen. It was a chef’s kitchen, something she’d dreamed of but never believed she would have.

  Unable to endure his tormenting silence any longer, she found the nerve to ask, “Why are you showing me this?”

  He hesitated, bracing himself for war before saying, “I want you to live here until you graduate.”

  Covering her mouth, she took a step toward him and leaned into his chest. When he wrapped his arms around her, she began to cry softly.

  He took her by her arms and moved her back. Bending his knees so that he was eye level with her, he asked, “Why are you crying?” He expected an argument maybe, but certainly not tears. She was pitiful and precious. Her lip quivered and big crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks. “Chelsea, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  All she could do was shake her head back and forth. For another minute, she couldn’t speak. Never would she have dreamed he would do something like this for her. The car was over the top, but to rent such a beautiful place for her was beyond what she could accept. “I can’t allow you to do this. You’ve done too much already. This place must cost a fortune.”

  Cupping her face in his hands, he dried her tears with his thumbs. “You’re worth a fortune.” For a moment he simply stood there, looking into her big brown eyes. Still, tears streamed down her cheeks. He’d called her baby, and as soon as it left his lips, his stomach turned a flip. It felt much too intimate a name to call her. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he were stumbling and unable to catch himself. Always he’d been so surefooted in life, but with Chelsea, he felt like he might topple over.

  Finally he pled, “Please stop fighting me. I want to give you everything.” Brushing her hair away from her face, he smiled softly, “Let me.” He sensed her uncertainty still and admitted, “This is as much for me as it is for you. When I come pick you up, I don’t want to keep picking you up from a parking lot. And I sure don’t want to meet your roommates.” Thinking for a second, he added, “This will solve your problem of not having to tell them. You just move here, and they’ll never know a thing about me.”

  Looking around, wanting to say yes more than anything in the world, she mumbled, “I have no furniture to bring.”

  Surprised that was her only argument, he walked over to the kitchen and picked up the card of a designer Irene had already contacted. She came by the afternoon before to look around. “Call her. She said to get a few magazines and find what you like. You will meet with her this week and get started.” Taking out his wallet, he removed a credit card. “Put everything on this.”

  He could see she was still on the fence, so he added, “I want you to live somewhere I know you’re safe and happy. I believe you will be here.” Arching his eyebrows, he asked, “Be honest. Do you like living with three roommates?”

  “Of course not.” Realizing she would be late for class if they didn’t leave soon, she admitted, “That’s the most phenomenal kitchen I’ve ever seen. I love to cook.”

  “See? This is right.” Taking her hand, he placed a key in it and closed her fingers around it. “If you don’t mind, I kept a key too. That way if I’m ever meeting you here and you’re not home yet, I won’t be stuck out in the hallway.”

  If she didn’t mind? Did he really just say that? He was renting her what was probably a million dollar condo in Beverly Hills, and he asked if she would mind him keeping a key. Looking at the key in her hand, she felt quite certain if she accepted it, it would make her completely his. Was that what she wanted? At the thought of it, her heart began to pound harder. If she were completely honest with herself, she wanted nothing more.

  Several weeks had passed, and the condo was decorated so beautifully that it looked just like the cover of a magazine. The main living area was mostly decorated in white tones. Her furniture was oversized and so comfortable that she often fell asleep on the sofa while watching TV. All the wood in the room was stained in variations of warm honeyed tones. The decorator selected much of the art work and lighting, but Chelsea picked the accessories. Surprisingly, the condo felt more like home than she could have ever expected. Her last apartment felt like an extension of dorm life. Having her own things, well, hers for the time being, she felt comfortable and secure. Every time she walked through the door, the warmth of it seemed to envelope her. Since being home at her parents’ house, she had not known such a feeling in years.

  The first week after they arrived home from Vegas, she received a check for two months of expenses. The amount John called fair boggled Chelsea’s mind. When she deposited the ten thousand dollar check, she was still determined to spend only the amount needed. In her heart, she knew that was the right thing to do. Having no idea what to do with the remaining money, she decided she would allow it to accumulate and simply give it back to John when their contract ended. Soon, credit cards arrived with her name on them. As she shopped for furnishings for the condo, she tried to determine if it was an item she would leave or take. If it was something she wanted to take when she moved out, she paid for the item with her own funds. If it was something she felt comfortable leaving behind, she used John’s credit cards. The entire experience was surreal, causing her to constantly wonder if she were living out some fabulous dream.

  On occasion, she wondered if John would find another girl to take her place when she left. She had to presume he would. At times, she would look around the condo she had made comfortable for herself and wonder if another would move in right away and make it her home. The thought of it caused her chest to feel tight and her heart to fill with deep sadness. When such questions surfaced, as they had done often over the past few days, she tried to push them away, reminding herself not to live for what would be, rather what was.

  John stopped by a couple of times to check on her progress. They had gone out to dinner on a few occasions, but there were several days she did not hear from him at all. Those days were terribly disappointing, and she found herself feeling a bit rejected. Each time that kind of feeling surfaced, she had to remind herself that she agreed to no strings or commitments. The times she considered calling him, she realized it would be inappropriate for her to do so. She felt a little trapped and sometimes in over her head. Nighttime was the loneliest. Many nights, she would sit alone watching TV, wondering what he was doing. Images of him with other women often swirled around in her mind. She would be a fool to believe she was the only one. No matter where they went, he drew such attention from the opposite sex that it made her feel certain there were others. Who could blame them? He was the most fascinating man she had ever met.

  Finals were over, so she had more free time than she was accustomed to. To kill time, she had taken up running, partially because she knew John ran each morning. The longer she ran, the more she found it helped to clear her head and alleviate the anxiety of waiting. In the past two days, John had not called or stopped by, so she was beginning to wonder if the honeymoon was over and he had become bored with her. That was why she was running at the mo
ment, trying to forget how much she missed him and how she longed for him to at least acknowledge her. Fully comprehending how pathetic her feelings were, she found herself frustrated by the fact that she had already begun to develop feelings for John. But how could she not? In all ways he was the absolute perfect man, so no matter how often she told her heart not to feel, it did anyway. It was much too early to call it love, but it was the deepest level of infatuation she’d ever known. And she knew she was merely inches away from falling head over heels in love with him. How could she have been so stupid?

  When she returned to her condo, John was there waiting. Kicking her shoes off by the door, she moved in to the living room where he sat. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, you.” While he waited for her, he sat and looked around her place. It was very like her, warm and bright, clean and inviting. He loved the things she had chosen for her new home. As much as he wanted to spend more time there with her, his schedule had been hectic. Many times he considered calling her, but with no event or dinner to schedule, he wasn’t quite sure it would be welcomed. Their agreement was pretty specific, and he would not infringe on her private time.

  “What’ve you been up to?” he asked. He often wondered what she did when they weren’t together. They had never discussed her dating during their arrangement, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Since meeting her, he hadn’t had a date and had no intention of it. Complications were usually the end result anyway. Urges came, and though he could’ve easily made a call to alleviate his frustration, he instead kept himself busy with work. After a while, it was as if that were no longer an option. He felt it would be disrespectful to Chelsea, and he found no need of other companionship. While he and Chelsea were not romantically involved, just having her around caused him to feel a little more like his former self, the man he was before Tracy died.

  “Not much.” She sat on the wooden trunk that served as her coffee table. “I’ve just been piddling around here.”

  “Piddling, huh?” He loved the way she talked. Though most often she spoke with the typical Midwestern accent, occasionally, she would throw out a country term, sayings that would remind him of his mother.

  “Yes, piddling.” She grinned. “How’ve things been with you?” There was no way she would ask why he hadn’t called. For one thing she knew she had no right, and for the other, she wouldn’t dare voice such a pathetic question. Finding him there waiting for her made up for the days he’d been absent.

  “Busy. Too busy.” Having seen her so little in the past weeks, he regretted not making more time. “I was wondering if you were available to do a little traveling.”

  Smiling broadly, she said, “Of course. Where to?”

  He leaned in and placed his hands on her knees. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  They discussed several possibilities before settling on Australia. He warned her that it was the beginning of their winter, but she was not at all deterred. Having been to Australia a number of times himself, John was able to help her decide what to pack. It was settled, they would leave the next morning.

  At dinner on their third evening in Sydney, Chelsea found she could hardly eat her meal. Seated in the most unique restaurant she had ever been in, located in the southern sail of the Sydney Opera House, she could do little else but gaze out at the spectacular view of the night skyline. Having never seen a real opera, she had assumed she would not like it. Instead, she found she loved every moment of the production, even when she could barely understand what was happening. It was moving, nearly magical.

  Watching her closely while she looked out at the night sky, John sensed she was far away in thought. Without question, she had enjoyed the show, but her current quietness caused him to wonder if something was the matter. Since Chelsea was never quiet, when she became so, it concerned him. “Are you not enjoying your meal?”

  “The food is fabulous.” Looking at her plate, she knew she should’ve eaten more while it was warm. “I just can’t get over the view. Have you been here before?” If anything, she was unsure how he could so casually eat with such beauty surrounding him and remain so unaffected.

  Nodding, he indicated he had, but it wasn’t something he cared to elaborate on. Once, a few years back, he had brought a new acquaintance to the opera and for a meal afterward. It was during a season of his life he was none too proud of. In town on business, he met the woman at a dinner party, and the very same night took her back to his hotel room. The following night, he took her out to the opera and to dinner at the same restaurant, slept with her once more and never saw her again. Soon after, he began dating much less. John knew the way he treated her and many other nameless women like her was unfair. His heart had become so calloused; it took a near disaster to wake him up.

  Changing the subject, he asked, “What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  So far, they had done many of the usual tourist activities. John worked during the morning hours but was usually free by lunchtime. When he arrived back at their hotel, they’d have lunch together, go out for an afternoon of sightseeing, and have a nice dinner.

  “What is your work schedule?”

  “I have a conference call early and then several meetings. I probably won’t be free until near dinnertime.”

  Nodding, she said, “Hmm. Okay. I’ll find something to get into.” Keller Industries was global, and John had many interests in Sydney, including manufacturing and hospitality. The hotel in which they were staying was owned by KI. Not knowing this beforehand, Chelsea found herself surprised, even a bit disappointed when he spent so much time away. When they were out each afternoon, often he took phone calls which left her alone to finish whatever they were doing at the time. She held a baby koala, and he missed it. She touched a live crocodile, and he missed it. With him excusing himself for privacy or quiet, she would snap her own photos with her phone. It wasn’t exactly the trip she anticipated. Without question, she was having a wonderful time. It was the trip of a lifetime for her, and certainly better than their visit to Las Vegas, but for some reason, she expected there to be more personal time and fewer business meetings.

  As she thought this, she felt terribly ungrateful. It wasn’t likely she would ever again have such an opportunity, and often she reminded herself how generous he was and how blessed she was that he took her along with him. Just as he did in Vegas, he insisted on buying her extravagant evening clothes for dinners at some of the finest restaurants in Sydney. For each outfit, he would surprise her with more jewelry. Recalling just how generous he’d been, she felt even more ashamed of her secret disappointment.

  Based on her brief response, and when she didn’t elaborate on what she planned to do, he suspected she was a little disappointed with his answer. Without a doubt, he’d spent more time conducting business than he had with her, at least during the daytime hours. Having hoped that giving her his full attention during the evenings might somehow make up for his absence in the mornings and how distracted he was when he was with her in the afternoon, he decided that was not the case. Chelsea was not the type to complain; it was simply not in her nature. In fact, that was what he liked least about her. It drove him crazy how she would rarely ask for what she wanted or admit how she felt. If he could impart one thing in her during their time together, it would be that. He wanted to help her find her voice. More than his desire for her in business, though certainly she would have to gain some spine in that area, he wanted to see her become more vocal and assertive in her personal life.

  “Do you have anything at all in mind that you’d like to do? I’ll order a car for you.” The lighting was dim, but he could still tell the little sparkle that was normally present in her eyes was missing at the moment. If he had one goal during their time together, it was to keep that sparkle alive.

  “No. That’s okay. I’ll catch a cab.”

  Finished with his meal, John moved the plate aside, propped his elbows on the table, and leaned in closer. “Chelsea, I know I’ve been very
distracted since we’ve been here. I’m not here often, so when I am, I try to fit in way too much in too short a time frame. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.”

  When she waved him off, indicating it was no big deal, he knew it was a big deal to her. Her gesture made him think of Tracy and how he did the same things to her. Fiercely independent, much more so than Chelsea, Tracy never seemed the least bit concerned that he spent so much time away. It was only after losing her that he came to recognize her vulnerability and how much of what he thought she ignored, she instead internalized just as Chelsea was doing.

  “What do you plan to do?” He asked.

  “I want to see the real Australia, not the tourist stuff, but the real people and places.”

  “Can it wait until later in the day?” As soon as he asked the question, even before she answered, the look of resignation on her face caused a lump to form in his throat.

  “Sure.”

  Again she was quiet. Her dessert arrived, and she picked at it quietly. She was by no means sulking, but clearly she was let down. When she lost interest in her dessert, it was then that he offered, “I’ll try to get done a little earlier. Will that help?” He hoped that would pacify her.

  Setting her fork down gently, she then lifted her napkin to her mouth. Chelsea placed her napkin on the table, and even while reminding herself how grateful she was for the trip, spat, “You know, as far as I can tell, you appear to be the boss, like everybody’s boss. It seems to me, as the boss, you could simply say, ‘I’ll not be available tomorrow. I have a city to see, some poor people to feed.’”

  He could hardly decide which to respond to first, her finding her voice to express how she felt or her comment about feeding the poor. Tremendously proud of her, he began with, “You’re right. I am the boss. And as the boss, I’ll schedule a day off tomorrow.” He grinned broadly, asking, “Now what’s this about feeding the poor?”