Almost Forever (38 page)

Clay hated deceptions, yet he would go to Jeff's funeral and pretend, for Madeline's sake, that everything was as it had always been. That the dead man had never stopped being his friend.

All because Andie McCreary and Jeff Kirkland had behaved so irresponsibly last New Year's Eve.

Yet how could Andie totally regret her own thoughtless indiscretion? It had brought the baby, who, even now, unborn, seemed such an important and transformative part of her life. And, in a roundabout, crazy way, it had brought her the true love she'd given up on finding.

Sometimes she wondered if, without the baby, she and Clay would ever have found their way to each other. They had such a history of hostility. They had both been so careful, over the years, to shield themselves from any intimate contact with each other. It had taken something enormous, another life coming, to break through all the walls.

For the baby's sake, Clay had given himself permission to pursue her. And because of the baby, she had been vulnerable. The walls had come down.

Would Jeff's death raise the walls all over again?

Andie shook her head. She couldn't afford to think such a thing.

With a little sigh, she rose. There were dishes to put in the dishwasher. And maybe after that, she'd go upstairs and make the bed. Put a load of laundry in the washing machine, dust the glass tables in the living room.

And then, when she was reasonably sure she could talk without bursting into tears, she'd call a travel agent she knew in town and see about making the arrangements for the trip to Los Angeles.

 

After she made the arrangements, Andie called Clay at the office. Linda said he couldn't come on the line right then. He would get back to her.

Andie was so relieved to hear he was there and safe that she didn't worry too much about his refusal to come to the
phone. But then, a few hours later, when she called again and got the same response from Linda, Andie began to believe that Clay was evading her.

But she didn't allow herself to stew about it. He was upset about Jeff. She understood that. And he needed time to accept what had happened. She didn't call him again.

Instead, she called Ruth Ann. Ruth Ann cried when Andie told her about Jeff's death.

“Blessed Mother Mary,” Ruth Ann sobbed. “Why am I doing this? I loathed and despised that jerk for what he did to you.”

“It's because you have a big heart, Ruthie. And because no man should die when he's young and strong and still has years of life ahead of him.”

Ruth Ann sobbed some more and blew her nose. “That's right. That is so right.” She sniffed. “How's Clay taking it?”

“Not well, so far. But it was only this morning that we heard.”

“He needs time.”

“I know.”

“Listen, how about if I come over?”

“No, I'm fine. But thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know I'm here. Just call. And I'll be there.”

“I know, Ruthie. And it helps. It really does.”

After that, Andie called her mother.

“Oh, Andie. Such a young man,” Thelma said. “It's a tragedy.”

“Yes.”

“His poor parents. I think that would be the worst thing. To have a child die before you.”

“I believe that both of his parents are dead, Mom.”

“Oh. How sad. He seemed like a nice young man, too. I'm so sorry. How's Clay?”

“As well as can be expected. He's at work now.”

“Will he be going to the funeral?”

“Yes. Jeff's wife, Madeline, asked him to be a pallbearer.”

“And of course he will.”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Well, with the baby coming and all, I suppose it's wisest if you stay at home.”

“No, I'm going.” Andie came to the decision just as she said the words. “I don't want Clay to be alone.”

Andie expected her mother to argue with her, to launch into all the reasons she should stay home and be careful of her unborn baby. But Thelma surprised her. Her voice was sad and accepting. “I know what you mean. If it were your father's friend…well, I do understand. And you're feeling all right, aren't you?”

“I'm feeling just fine, Mom.”

“How long will you be down there?”

“We'll leave Friday and be back by Sunday afternoon.” Andie gave her mother the phone number of the hotel. As soon as she hung up, Andie called the travel agent again and managed to add herself to all the reservations. After that, she went to see her doctor, who provided the release form that the travel agent had said she'd need in order to fly this late in her pregnancy.

Clay arrived home at 7:49. Andie forced herself not to run—or in her case, waddle—out to the garage the minute she heard the door rolling open. Instead, she calmly pulled his dinner from the oven where she'd been keeping it warm and set it on the table.

She heard the inside garage door open and close, his footsteps on the hardwood floor. She heard him stop at the coat closet, to get rid of his jacket and his briefcase. At last, he appeared.

“I stopped by Doolin's.” Doolin's was a bar in town. “For a drink.”

She gave him a warm smile and didn't mention that he'd never stopped by Doolin's before in the five months they'd been married. “I kept your dinner warm.”

“I'll wash my hands.”

Clay came to the table five minutes later. Andie sat opposite him, sipping a glass of milk as he doggedly ate.

“Did you make the plane reservations?”

“Yes.”

“For what time?”

“Two in the afternoon tomorrow. Out of Sacramento, arriving at LAX at 3:10.”

“That's perfect. What about the hotel?”

“The Casa de la Reina. Triple A gives it four stars. And it's about two miles from the church.”

“That sounds fine. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

She waited quietly as he finished up the meal. He talked of the office, of how well Linda was doing, of a dispute with a new client, a big account that Clay had knocked himself out to acquire, but now was just about to kiss goodbye.

“He wants to make a lot of money, and then pay zero taxes. I told him I'm good, but I won't cheat for him. It went downhill from there.”

Andie listened sympathetically and waited for him to talk about what was really on his mind: Jeff.

It never happened. The few hours until bedtime slipped by.

After he brushed his teeth, Clay left the bathroom while Andie was still washing her face. When she returned to the bedroom, the light was off and Clay was a motionless lump on his side of the bed.

Suppressing a sigh, Andie approached her own side. Once
there, she positioned her nest of pillows and then carefully arranged herself so that her upper knee was supported and her stomach rested comfortably on a pillow of its own. Through this procedure, Clay, who usually made a big production of moving her pillows around for her until she had them just right, remained still as a stone.

Andie settled in. She closed her eyes. She told herself to be patient, to give him time.

Yet she couldn't resist asking hesitantly, “Clay, are you awake?”

No answer. But she could feel the tension coming from him. He was not asleep.

“Clay, don't you think we should talk?”

He stirred, rolled over and gently patted her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Andie. Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”

And that was all. Andie felt miserable. She hardly slept the whole night.

The next morning was a replay of the night before. Clay was a thousand miles away from her, though he persisted in the fiction that everything was just fine. He rose and showered, shaved and dressed. He ate his breakfast, drank his coffee and then returned to the bedroom to pack his bag.

Then he told her, “I might as well go directly from the office to the airport, don't you think?”

She smiled patiently at him, though she was becoming angry in her heart. “They'll be dropping the tickets off here at the house, by express mail, around eleven.”

“You should have had them sent to the office.”

“Well, it's a little too late to change things now. But I'd be happy to drive them over.”

“Were you planning to come in this afternoon?” Lately, she'd been working from one to five on Fridays. But she wouldn't today, of course, because she was going with Clay.

She shook her head. “Actually, today I was going to call Linda and see if everything seemed under control. If she didn't need me, I was going to stay home.”

“Fine, then. I'll come back and get the tickets.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.” He kissed her on the cheek, a chaste little peck that made her want to grab him and shake him and demand to know what he'd done with her husband. Because he wasn't her husband, not this cold, distant stranger who seemed to be in such a hurry to get away from her. “Goodbye, then. I'll see you when I come back for the tickets.”

Andie opened her mouth to tell him that the tickets weren't the only thing he'd be picking up this afternoon; she was going, too. But somehow, all she said was “Goodbye, Clay.”

She reasoned that if she told him now, there would only be a big argument. She would wait until he came back for the tickets to tell him. That would be soon enough for the confrontation.

The minute he was gone, she went in the bedroom to pack her own bag.

 

“Absolutely not.” Clay glared at her. “You are not coming with me.”

“Yes, I am, Clay.” They were standing in the little service porch area that led out to the garage. Andie's suitcase was at her feet.

“It's not safe for the baby.”

“I'm nearly a month from my due date. I've had a textbook pregnancy. The doctor said it should be perfectly safe.”

Clay paced in the small space. He walked a few steps down the hall toward the main part of the house and then spun on his heel to confront her again. “What about the family?”

“What about them?”

“They'll be worried if we're both gone.”

“I've called them. I've explained everything. I said we'd be back Sunday, which we will.”

“You called them.”

“That's what I said.”

“You told them we were both going without even discussing it with me?”

“You and I haven't done a lot of talking in the past twenty-four hours, Clay.”

He ignored that. “And the reservations? The flights and the hotel room?”

“What about them?”

“You made them all for two?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I don't believe this. You just assumed you were going.”

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said. I assumed nothing. I
decided
I was going.”

He stared at her for a moment. Then he said in a voice as cold as dry ice, “Well, you decided wrong.”

Andie kept her shoulders high, even though her back was aching and the weight of the baby seemed to drag at her. “I'm going, Clay.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He leaned against the wall, rubbed his hand down his face. “Don't do this, Andie.”

“What?” She bit the inside of her lip. She absolutely was not going to cry. “Don't do what? Don't stick with you when you need me?”

He looked at her some more. His eyes were old. “I do
not
need you.”

That hurt. Like a knife to the heart. She winced but refused to wrap her arms around herself and cry out as she longed to
do. Gently she said, “Yes, you do. You need me very badly right now. And it's my job as your wife to make sure I'm there when you
admit
you need me.”

“This is ridiculous. I'll just leave without you.”

“I have my own car. I'll follow you.”

Clay looked away down the hall and made a scoffing sound. “I don't believe you're doing this. I thought you'd grown up. I thought you were past these selfish, grandstanding displays.”

“This is not a display, Clay.”

“Isn't it? I'm sorry, but from here, it looks damn dramatic, a real Andie McCreary show. Eight months pregnant and you're so noble. You'll fly to Los Angeles to be with your husband, because he
needs
you.”

“It's not dramatic. It's not noble. It's just how it is. I'm going.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He looked so angry for a moment that she thought he was going to march over to her, grab her and shake her until she agreed to do things his way. But he didn't. His broad shoulders slumped. “Look. I just want to get through this. I just want it over with. Can't you understand?”

“Yes. I can. I do.”

“Then stay here. Please.”

The little section of counter that she used for folding clothes was at her back. She pressed herself against it, not resting really, but bolstering herself. She dared to ask, “Why, Clay? Why don't you want me to go?”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “Oh, come on.”

“No. Say it. Tell me.”

“It's inappropriate.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don't.”

“For Madeline's sake. It's cruel.”

“Oh. I see. It's cruel.”

“Don't be snide, Andie. It is. It's cruel.”

“I don't see how. Madeline doesn't know the truth about the baby. Does she?”

“No, she doesn't.”

“And you never plan for her to know, do you?”

“No.”

“Then what she's never going to know won't hurt her. As far as she knows, I'm just your wife from Meadow Valley who's going to have a baby soon.
Your
baby.”

There was a silence. Andie watched her husband's face. He looked so tired. The lines around his eyes seemed to have been etched deeper overnight.