Almost Forever (28 page)

“I know that, damn you.” Jeff stood. He held a hand down to Clay.

Clay stared up at him, not moving. “Well?”

Jeff stuck his hand in his pocket. Overhead, the gulls wheeled. One cried out, a long, lonely sound.

“All right, bud.” A faraway smile curved Jeff's mouth. “I'm dead.”

Clay got to his feet unaided. The two men stood, one brown haired, one blond, both tall and well built, facing each other on the sand.

Jeff's distant smile turned knowing. “You ain't really all
that
civilized, are you now, bud?”

Clay shrugged, though the violence within him seemed to make the air shimmer in front of his eyes.

“I'll make it easy for you,” Jeff said. Then his fist shot out and connected with Clay's jaw.

T
here was a moment of stark pain, then an explosion behind Clay's eyes. Clay staggered back.

And then, at last, he was set free to act. His body broke the reins of his iron control.

With a guttural cry, Clay sent his own fist flying. Flesh and cartilage gave way. Jeff grunted in pain.

Clay kicked him before Jeff could recover. Jeff stumbled back. Clay jumped on him and brought him down.

The two men rolled, struggling, over and over in the sand. Above, the gulls cried and soared. The waves tumbled in and slid away again, on and on, without end.

Eventually, when pain and exhaustion finally conquered them both, the two men dragged themselves to their feet and reeled back to Clay's rental car.

Clay drove Jeff to Brentwood and dropped him off under the wide canopy of the magnolia tree in front of the grace
fully sloping lawn. Then he went to the airport to wait for a return flight.

It was well after midnight when he finally fell into his bed.

 

“Good Lord, Clay,” Andie demanded when he walked into the office the next morning, “what
happened?
”

He gingerly touched the purple bruise on the side of his jaw. “What, this?”

“Yes. And that and that.” She indicated his black eye and the cut on the bridge of his nose.

“I fell off my tractor.” Clay owned a miniature tractor the size of a riding mower that he used to move dirt and tree stumps around on his ten acres of land.

Andie wasn't convinced. “Fell off your tractor, right. You'll lose your Eagle Scout badge telling lies like that. Now what is going on?”

Clay lied some more. “Nothing.” He had already decided she was never going to know the truth about this. “I went out for a drink last night and I chose the wrong bar, that's all.”

“That's not like you, Clay.”

“What? Going out for a drink or going to the wrong bar?”

“Neither. It's something else. What?”

“God, you're nosy.” He peered at her more closely. “But you're looking good. Really good.” It was true. The shadows beneath her eyes were gone and there was color in her cheeks again.

“You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?”

“No, I'm not. As I said, it's nothing. And you
are
looking good.”

She was quiet for a moment. He knew she was making up her mind whether to keep after him about the source of his injuries. He was relieved when she gave a small shrug and
admitted, “I'm feeling much better. Since we talked last week, a lot of what was worrying me isn't worrying me anymore. It's amazing what a few good nights of sleep will do.”

“Well, great.” He realized he should probably get his coffee and move along to his own office down the hall. But he didn't move.

While he leaned on the reception counter and grinned at her, Andie mentioned that one of the bigger accounts he'd inherited from his father had left a message on the service. “He said he's dropping in this morning some time.”

“Nice of him to let us know.”

“I pulled his file. It's on your desk.”

“You are incredibly efficient.”

“Maybe I should get a raise.”

“Maybe I should get to work.”

She laughed. “Fine. Get to work. But I'm not giving up about that raise. And Clay…”

“What?”

“Are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine. Really. Though I've got to admit I'm kind of dreading facing Mrs. Faulkenberry looking like this.” Mrs. Faulkenberry had been coming to Barrett & Co. to have her tax return prepared for as long as Clay could remember. Every year, she brought in her receipts in a shoe box and handed them over to Clay's father personally. This year, she'd agreed to hand over the precious shoe box to Clay. She was due in at one that afternoon.

“Don't worry about Mrs. Faulkenberry,” Andie reassured him. “She's seen worse things in her time than a beat up accountant, I'm sure.”

“I'll take that under advisement.”

“Good.” She swiveled in her chair and faced her computer screen again.

Clay looked at her delicate profile for a moment before he finally went to pour himself some coffee and get to work.

 

When Clay arrived home that night, there was a message on his answering machine from Jill Peters, a woman he'd dated a few times last fall and during the holidays. In fact, Jill had been his date on New Year's Eve, the night Jeff and Andie had—

Clay cut the thought off before it was finished and forced himself to keep his mind on Jill. Jill had tickets to a Kings game for Friday night and wanted Clay to go with her.

Clay played the message twice, thinking that he'd enjoyed being with Jill and realizing that more than two months had slipped by since the last time he'd talked to her. He probably should have called her.

But he hadn't. And now he knew that he was going to get back to her and tell her he appreciated her invitation, but it was no go.

He didn't know why, exactly.

He called her quickly and made his excuses and then wondered for a moment or two what was the matter with him, to turn down a pleasant evening with a nice woman.

But then he shrugged and forgot about it. There was no sense in dwelling on it. It was just one of those things.

He thought of Andie right then, for some reason, and realized he was looking forward to going to work tomorrow. The confrontation with Jeff was behind him and Andie was feeling better. Things should be more pleasant at the office from now on.

 

And they were. All that week, things went smoothly.

Andie told him in a private moment that she knew her father and his father had ganged up on him.

“But you were steadfast, as always,” she jokingly praised him. “You didn't give out or give in.”

He actually put on a wise-guy voice. “I told you I was no snitch.” He was careful to add offhandedly, “Not that there was anything I could have told them. I mean, what do I know, anyway?”

She gave him an odd, pensive look. “That's right. What do you know, anyway?”

Something tightened down inside him. He felt a twinge of guilt. But what was the point of telling the truth here? Jeff was out of her life and Clay's life, as well. Dragging it all out now would only cause her more pain than she'd already suffered.

One of her sleek eyebrows lifted slightly. “Something
is
bothering you. Isn't it, Clay?”

But then the door buzzer rang, telling them there was someone out front.

“Better see who it is,” he said softly.

She gave a little sigh and left.

The subject did not present itself again—not immediately, anyway. And that was fine with Clay.

The work load seemed to get heavier every day. They were managing fine, but there wasn't a lot of time for anything but the job. As the first week of March faded into the second, they fell into the habit of ordering take-out food and eating dinner together right there at the office after the last appointment of the day. Then Andie would get to work on the day's time sheets, while Clay would dig into the next tax summary. They'd say good-night at eight or so and start all over again twelve hours later.

Andie said she didn't mind the long hours at all. She was feeling better every day, and she did need the extra money.

Clay believed she really was feeling better. Her eyes were clear and bright now, and though the soda crackers were still ready at her desk, her appetite had definitely improved. Some evenings, he had to watch out or she was likely to eat half of
his
dinner as well as her own.

It was Wednesday night in the second week of March when Clay's mother called him at home.

“Clay, dear, Saturday is Andie's birthday. Did you remember?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Clay
had
remembered. He'd been planning to use the event as an excuse to take Andie out to dinner and present her with a nice big check that would be part bonus and part birthday gift.

But the family, evidently, had plans of their own. “We thought we'd have a little party. Just the family and a few close friends.”

“I see.”

“You sound guarded, dear.”

“I'm not. The truth is, I already had something planned for Andie's birthday, that's all.”

“You did?” His mother's voice was suddenly bright.

“It wasn't anything important. I was going to take her out to dinner.”

“Why, I think that sounds lovely. Maybe you could do both.”

“What do you mean, both?”

“Come to the party
and
buy her a nice meal.”

“I'll think about it. Tell me about the party.”

His mother launched into the plans. It was to be at Thelma and Joe's on Saturday afternoon. “You will come, won't you, Clay?”

Clay promised to attend.

“And don't tell Andie. It's supposed to be a surprise.”

“I won't say a word.”

“Good. Come at one-thirty, no later. We want everyone there to yell ‘Surprise!' when she walks in.”

“I'll be there.”

His mother rambled on again, about how Andie's best friend, Ruth Ann Pardo, was going to go to Andie's apartment
early Saturday morning, to make sure Andie didn't go anywhere. Then Aunt Thelma was going to call Andie at the right time with a trumped-up emergency and beg her to come right over.

“I think it should work, don't you, Clay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Oh, and do get her something extra nice. She needs all our love and affection right now.” His mother's tone was heavy with meaning.

Clay smiled to himself. Slowly, as Clay had known they would, the family was coming to grips with the reality of Andie's pregnancy. Everyone was still speaking in low tones and oblique phrases about it. But that would pass. By the time the baby actually made his or her appearance, they'd all be lined up at the observation window in the hospital nursery, jockeying for their first glimpse of the newest member of the clan.

He promised his mother he'd get Andie something nice and then he said goodbye.

 

Clay ended up doing as his mother suggested. He planned to attend the party and he also took Andie to dinner on Friday night and gave her the bonus check.

Her eyes misted over a little when she looked at the amount. “I should tell you it's too much.”

“But you won't.” He raised his wineglass and toasted her with it. “Because you know it's not only a birthday present.”

“It isn't?”

“Hell, no. It's also a bonus check.”

“Ah. For the terrific job I'm doing at the office.”

“Exactly.”

“Then you're right. It's not too much. I'm worth every cent.”

Andie ate all of her salmon and had chocolate mousse for
dessert. Clay watched her with satisfaction, thinking that she was doing a pretty good job of eating for two.

When they left the restaurant, which was on one of the two major streets in downtown Meadow Valley, a light snow was falling. Andie put out her hands to catch a few flakes. The bracelet of linked hearts that she always wore gleamed on her wrist as it caught the light of the streetlamp beside her. “Snow. In March.”

“It happens. Sometimes as late as April.”

“Yes.” Her smile was so womanly—knowing, and yet shy. “But spring is near. I can feel it.” She flipped up the collar of her winter coat. “Come on. Let's go.”

Clay flipped up his collar to match hers and they set off up the sidewalk. When they reached the corner, they instinctively moved closer together against the chill of the wind that swept between the buildings. Since the restaurant's small lot in back was full, they'd both parked on the street.

“I'll walk you to your car,” Clay suggested.

Andie sent him a smile that seemed to warm the icy air between them. “Thanks.”

Andie's car, a little red compact that had seen better days, was waiting two blocks away. When they reached it, she turned to him.

“Thanks, Clay. It was lovely.”

“You're welcome.” He stared down at her.

The snow caught on her eyelashes and sparkled like tiny diamonds in her nearly black hair. She always pulled her hair back for work, so it looked like a sleek cap on her head. But it had a lot of curl to it and the moisture in the air was working on it. Little tendrils were curling now around her face.

It occurred to Clay, in a dazed sort of way, that something was happening here.

“Can I drive you to your car?” she offered.

“No. It's okay. The walk will do me good.”

“You're sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She rose on tiptoe. Her lips brushed his cheek, right above the pale remnant of the bruise where Jeff's first punch had landed.

Clay felt the warmth of her breath, smelled the fresh sweetness of her skin. Inside his trousers, his manhood stirred. The pleasant ache shocked him for an instant.

And then something deep inside him gave way. And it was okay. He could allow himself to desire her.

“Good night, then,” she said.

“Yes. Good night.”

She ran around to the driver's side, unlocked the door and got in. The car started up with a grumbling whine. She pulled out and drove away. Clay watched her go. She'd disappeared around a corner before he shook himself and started for his own car.

 

The next day at two o'clock, Clay jumped out from behind his Aunt Thelma's couch and hollered “Surprise!” at the top of his lungs. The only thing that kept him from feeling like a complete idiot when he did it was that everyone else around him was doing the same thing.

If Andie wasn't surprised, she did a good job of acting the part. She jumped backward, put her hand to her throat and squealed, “Omigod!”

And then everyone was laughing and hugging her and shouting, “Happy Birthday!”