by Beverly Farr
She wished she could remember. Had she married him and slept with him just to spite Nigel?
She didn’t want to believe that, but if she hadn’t, why had she asked for a divorce the next morning? Maybe it would be better if she never remembered.
Oh, Lars, she thought. I want our marriage to work. I don’t care how we got here, I don’t care why. All that matters is here and now. I’m expecting your baby and I’ll do everything I can to be a good wife.
Lars smiled at her.
Kelly suddenly realized that the entire church was quiet. Everyone was anxiously waiting for her to say something. “I do?” she said tentatively, wondering if it was time to say that. The minister smiled, and went on with the service.
In another minute, the minister was saying, “You may kiss the bride.”
Lars lifted her veil, leaned down and kissed her.
Yes, she thought, reveling in the sturdy strength of him. Together we’ll make this marriage work.
Then, too soon, the kiss was over and her mother was hugging her and crying. Her father shook Lars’ hand and pounded his back with a hearty, “Welcome to the family, son.”
Photographs seemed to take forever, then it was time for the dinner and reception. Kelly clutched Lars’ hand under the tablecloth, where it couldn’t be seen. “How are you doing?” she asked.
He grinned ruefully. “It was a lot simpler in Reno. We just walked in, signed the papers, said a few words and it was done.”
“Thank you for being such a good sport about this. It means a lot to my family.”
He shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”
The words chilled her. She knew duty was important to Lars. Her father often joked that he wished he could clone him. “I’d make him be all my Vice Presidents,” he said. “Because when something needs to be done, he gets it done.” That was fine in the corporate setting, but how much of this wedding and the decision to stay married was based on his doing the right thing?
No. It wasn’t just the baby that was keeping them together. He really liked her. He liked her enough to run off for a whirlwind wedding. And whether it was love or lust, they’d start there, and build a happy family together.
Her father stood and clinked his spoon on his wine glass. “I have a little announcement to make.” He laughed. “Okay, maybe not so little.” He beamed at his wife, then over at Lars and Kelly. He waited until the room grew quiet. “By now you’ve all met Lars, the young man who swept my daughter off her feet, convincing her to dump one groom and marry him instead. I’d say that makes him pretty darn persuasive. Maybe I should put him in charge of Marketing.”
Kelly blushed and the crowd laughed.
Her father continued. “What you might not know is that he’s my right hand man, Vice President of Production.”
Lars sat very still with a serious expression on his face.
Kelly whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, yet.”
Kelly looked at her mother as if to ask, “What’s going on?” and her mother shrugged and shook her head.
Her father said, “Over the past eight years, Lars has proved again and again that he is a Rawlins man, first and foremost. Now that he’s a member of the family, I’m giving him a wedding present. I’m stepping down, and next week the Board of Directors will vote him in as the new President and CEO.”
“No,” Lars and Kelly said it as if with one breath.
“Speech, speech,” someone in the crowd said, and soon everyone was clapping, urging him to speak.
Lars rose to his feet. He put his hands up to quiet the crowd. “This is a bit of a shock.”
The crowd laughed.
“You deserve it, son,” Frank said loudly. “Besides, I want to enjoy life. I’ll let you have all the headaches.”
Lars looked at Kelly’s father. Were there tears in Lars’ eyes? “I appreciate the trust you have in me, and I’ll do my best to live up to it.” His voice faltered. He turned and smiled at her. “But although this advancement makes me very happy, you’ve already given me the greatest gift -- your daughter, Kelly.”
The crowd clapped loudly. “Kiss her,” someone yelled.
Lars leaned down for her, and kissed her. Kelly closed her eyes, to savor the moment, but all she could think was -- Lars is President of Rawlins Lighting. What am I going to do now?
#
Kelly was very quiet during the reception. She smiled and nodded, as needed, but Lars could tell that she was thinking about something, worrying.
At the ceremony she’d said, “I do?” as if she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. Fortunately the minister hadn’t questioned her further.
Lars swept her into his arms for another waltz as the orchestra played. He liked dancing with Kelly. It gave him the opportunity to put his arms around her and hold her close. She rested her head against his chest and he breathed in the heady scent of her, a combination of her floral perfume and warm scent of her own skin. The satin of her gown rustled as he skillfully spun her around. She was light in his arms, and fitted so perfectly.
Which gave him other ideas. “How soon can we get out of here?” he asked huskily.
She startled, looking up at him with a troubled look in her green eyes. “We still have to cut the cake and I have to throw the bouquet.”
Cool it, Henderson. Naturally she’s a little skittish. Remember she’s still getting used to the idea of being married to you. The problem was, every time he kissed her, he felt like throwing her over his shoulder and heading to the nearest cave. He’d practically ravished her in her father’s office, and since then he’d been extra careful to take things slowly.
He had another chance with Kelly and he didn’t want to blow it this time by scaring her away.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her hair, and bent down to kiss the side of her throat, below her ear. A particularly favorite spot of hers, as he remembered.
She shuddered and momentarily lost count in her steps. She tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Lars?” she asked.
“Mmmm? You like this?”
“You know I do,” the words were the barest whisper.
He looked at her sharply. “Do you remember something?”
She nodded. “I remember dancing with you.”
That fateful Friday night at the club. It had been dark and noisy, with too many people, but he hadn’t cared because she was dancing with him. “Do you remember anything else?”
She frowned. “I wish I could remember more,” she said quietly.
Lars wasn’t sure he wanted her to remember any more. Friday and Saturday had been fine, but he didn’t want her to relive Sunday, the day she left him. “Don’t worry,” he said, holding her closer. “It doesn’t matter. We’re starting over, remember?”
Her green eyes clouded with concern. “You’re right.”
They managed to cut the cake and feed each other without making a mess. Then it was time for her to throw the bouquet. Lars stood off to one side, admiring the way her wedding gown displayed her creamy shoulders and trim waist. It was difficult to believe that she was pregnant, carrying his child.
A baby. With hindsight, he wondered if he’d subconsciously planned for this, by not using any birth control during their honeymoon. Had he taken the risk with the wish of cementing their relationship with a child?
If so, it hadn’t been the most admirable tactic, but he wasn’t going to complain now. He was thrilled to have a baby, thrilled that Kelly was willing to live with him. I’ll make you happy. I’ll make you forget Nigel.
But Kelly was so young, only twenty-three. Right now she was trying to do the right thing, but would she grow to resent all the obligations of being a mother? His mother had.
Would she become bored with him? He wasn’t exciting like Nigel. He didn’t write songs. He worked eight to five, and often took work home. He read, he worked out, and he took online college classes to improve himself. He had a few friends, but mos
t of them were from work.
In contrast, Kelly was so warm and friendly, nearly everyone liked her. She had dozens of friends and they circled around her, every one of them wanting her attention. Nearly every day she had a social event: She went to lunch, went shopping, went out to dinner, watched movies, went dancing. And if she was too busy to meet with friends, she called someone while she was washing dishes or doing her laundry.
He was a loner and she was a social butterfly. Could they find a happy medium?
He watched as Tiffany and the now-bald Brenda helped arrange the skirt of her wedding dress for another photo.
The three amigas.
They had been inseparable in high school. He suddenly remembered one time Frank had asked him to take Kelly her soccer cleats for a practice game. She’d left them at home. As he approached the soccer field, he noticed that the three fifteen year old girls silenced and stared at him. He had handed Kelly her cleats.
“Thanks, Lars,” she’d said with a nervous smile, and he’d smiled back.
But then when he turned to go, all three of them burst into muffled laughter. He heard one of them -- probably Brenda -- say something about him being an errand boy and they all laughed again.
He’d walked slowly back to his car, feeling like a big, lumbering idiot.
But that was years ago, and somehow they’d all grown up.
Kelly flung the bouquet over her shoulder into a crowd of her giggling and squealing friends. “It’s mine,” Brenda cried and held it up like a trophy. In the scuffle, she’d lost the wreath from her shiny dome.
Kelly smiled across the crowd at him to share her amusement. I’m glad we did this, he thought. He was glad they’d gone through with the second ceremony and the reception. He’d worried before that he’d cheated her out of the big celebration she’d always wanted, but now they would have the memories to cherish together.
“Lars?”
He turned to see his mother with her third husband. She was expensively dressed in a rose colored lace dress and pearls. She gave him a brief hug and kissed his cheek. “It’s getting late; we’ve got to go,” she said. “Thank you so much for inviting us. Kelly’s a lovely girl.”
“Thank you for coming,” Lars said stiffly. He searched her eyes, hoping for a glimmer of warmth, but found only politeness and obligation. He chastised himself for his foolishness -- he should not expect what she could not give.
At least she had come. His father had sent his apologies and a generous check, wishing him well. A familiar gesture. His father thought money took care of everything.
Lars looked over at Kelly’s parents who stood by each other, holding hands. That’s what I want. Thirty years from now, I want to be holding Kelly’s hand, watching our son get married.
If he was wise, and lucky, it could happen. He walked over to Kelly and took her hand. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.
#
Lars picked her up and carried her over the threshold of the hotel room.
He carried her easily as if she didn’t weigh a hundred and twenty pounds. Kelly held his neck tightly and giggled nervously. “Is this necessary?”
He kicked the heavy door closed behind them. “It’s supposed to bring good luck.”
They could use all the help they could get.
“Where do you want me to put you down --,” he asked, “on the bed?”
He’d rented the honeymoon suite. Through an open door she could see a huge king-sized bed with satin sheets turned down invitingly.
“No,” she gasped. She wasn’t ready for beds yet. “This is fine.”
He set her down on the couch, and sat down next to her. He was very close. He loosened his black bow tie.
Her fingers itched to do that for him. “That’s -- ” my job, she almost said, but silenced instead. It sounded too forward. He looked at her expectantly, but she just shook her head.
You are such a prude. What are you going to do when we get married -- lock yourself in the bathroom like the proverbial virgin?
Although she knew she wasn’t a virgin, she still felt like one.
He smiled at her. “That was some party.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “My mother certainly knows how to throw a party.” I sound like a parrot, she thought dismally.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked.
“No, go ahead. You can take yours first,” she said, buying time, then realized belatedly that he was asking if she wanted to take a shower with him. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.
Lars laughed, a low rumble in his throat. “Kelly, you’re shy,” he teased and ran his finger along her jaw line.
Kelly turned her head and kissed the end of his finger. “Is that such a surprise?” she asked.
“A little,” he said, inching closer. “But I like it.”
Her eyes widened. She wished she could remember more of her first honeymoon so that she’d feel more competent now. He had her at a distinct disadvantage.
He kissed her leisurely. Her heart beat rapidly. Could he hear it?
“Ah Kelly,” he said softly after a long moment. “I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”
So had she, but she was still a little nervous. He watched her, reading the hesitation in her eyes. He knelt on the floor in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Give me your foot. I know how you hate shoes.”
She obediently put her foot forward. He slipped her white satin pump off. “Now the other one,” he said.
Soon all her toes were free. “Thank you,” she murmured.
He ran his hand slowly up the back of her calf, making her knees go weak and sending a languid warmth upwards. He leaned closer and asked, “What are you wearing, panty hose or stockings?”
She gasped and pressed her knees together. “Stockings, but I can undo them myself.”
“If you insist,” he said smoothly, and took his hands out of from under her skirts. “We’ll take this as slowly as you want.”
She was beginning to doubt that slow was what she wanted. She wanted to make love fast and furiously, to get it over with, to end the aching uncertainty inside her.
Then maybe she’d understand why she’d married him. She still had so many questions.
“Turn around so I can tackle all those buttons down your back,” he said reasonably. “I know you can’t reach them.”
He sat next to her on the couch. She turned so that her back was towards him. The heavy satin of her wedding gown and the yards of netting in her slip rustled around them.
His fingers slowly unfastened each tiny covered button. She felt his breath, warm and rhythmic on her skin. “Lars?” she asked.
“Yes?”
He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder and for a second she couldn’t remember her question. Then she said, “About your becoming President of Rawlins. When did you know about that?”
He reached up and started pulling the hairpins from her hair, one by one. “Your father and I had talked about it, but I didn’t expect him to resign so suddenly.” Her hair fell down to her shoulders and he sighed, running his fingers through it. “You have such beautiful hair, Kelly.”
Kelly didn’t want to ask any more questions, but she couldn’t get Nigel’s words out of her head. Is sleeping with the boss’ daughter one of his perks, or the reason he was promoted?
She asked, “Is that why you married me, to speed up the process?”
His hands stilled. “What are you talking about?”
She twisted around to face him, holding the bodice of her gown against herself so that it wouldn’t gap forward. “I mean, marrying the boss’ daughter is always a good career move. And I do own a lot of Rawlins stock.”
His eyes grew stormy. “Is that what you think -- that I married you to advance my career?”
She didn’t want to think that’s why he’d married her, but she had to ask. “Then tell me why you did. I want to understand.”
&n
bsp; He looked guilty; she read it in his eyes. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “Well?” she prompted.
He didn’t say the words she wanted to hear. I love you Kelly. You mean the world to me, Kelly.
As the silence lengthened, she felt as if her heart were breaking. She should have known better. Lars was a Rawlins man, first and foremost.
“Get out,” she said suddenly and kicked at him with her stocking clad feet. Surprised by the sudden move, he fell off the couch, onto the floor.
“What are you doing? Kelly, this is insane.” He scrambled to his feet as she hurried to the door of the bedroom. He caught her arm.
She pulled away. “I don’t want you to touch me. Not ever. I’m not one of your perks.”
“What are you talking about? You know I care about you. I thought we were going to start over, building on what we have. Our friendship.”
It was too little, too late. She refused to be a rung on the ladder of his advancement. Baby or no baby.
“This is our honeymoon,” he persisted.
“You forget, Lars,” she said coolly. “We already had our honeymoon.” With that, she shut and locked the adjoining doors.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, Lars asked, “Are you okay?”
Kelly closed the bathroom door behind her. Lars looked disgustingly chipper. He’d showered, shaved and dressed while she slept. He wore neatly pressed khaki pants and instead of a shirt and tie -- an ironed polo shirt. This must be casual dress for him.
She was still wearing her wrinkled slip. She’d thrown the wedding dress at the foot of the bed before she cried herself to sleep. What a watering pot I’ve become, she thought with disgust. She wished she could blame it all on the pregnancy.
His concerned scrutiny embarrassed her. She’d looked in the mirror and knew she looked awful. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m fine. Just a little morning sickness, I guess.”
“Does that happen often?”
This was the Lars she’d known so long. Calm, cool, and friendly. As if he hadn’t tried to undress her last night or pounded on the adjoining door, telling her they needed to talk. “No, this is the first time I’ve actually thrown up,” she said, striving for the same civilized tone. “Maybe I ate too much last night.”
