Almost Forever (46 page)

A
ndie was in the shower. Clay could hear the water running behind the closed door of the bathroom.

He sank to the edge of the bed, facing the closed door. He was still sitting there in the same place ten minutes later when his wife emerged wrapped in her robe, rubbing the wet strands of her hair with a towel.

Andie paused there, in the doorway to the bathroom. “Clay? Are you all right?”

“I don't know.” He stared at her, and then put his head in his hands and gazed blindly down at the floor between his knees. “I…”

Andie approached the bed, the fabric of her robe whispering as her bare legs moved. Once there, she sank down beside him. “Clay?”

He lifted his head again and looked at her. She was so beautiful, with her shower-pink skin, her wet, shining hair. “Andie, I…I want to ask you…”

“Yes?”

“God. I don't know where to begin.”

He watched the hope leap into her eyes. It was so bright that it nearly blinded him.

“It doesn't matter. Begin anywhere.” Her voice was carefully controlled. She didn't want to jump to conclusions—he could see that. And yet she sensed what was happening. At last, the moment when he would be honest with her had come.

“I…I've been losing you, haven't I? Little by little, every day.”

She nodded. She was biting her lip, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Are you gone all the way yet? Is there any chance that—?”

She could control herself no longer. “Oh, Clay, yes. Of course there's a chance. When there's love, there's always a chance.”

“What do I have to do?”

She wiped her eyes with her towel. “You mean this? You really want to know?”

“Yeah. I mean it.”

“All right. I'll tell you. You have to ask me that awful question you're so afraid to ask. You have to get it out in the open so we can deal with it.”

He looked at her for a moment more. The temptation was very great to pretend he didn't know what question she meant. But then he thought of Madeline. Her life had been shattered, yet still she came around. She sought the truth.

If Madeline could do it, so could he.

He asked the question, “Do you still love him? Do you still love Jeff?”

“At last,” she murmured in a wondering voice.

“Well. Do you?”

“I never loved him.” Her eyes were brimming again. There was such joy in her face. “I told you months ago I didn't. And I was telling the truth.”

Clay was silent. Then he admitted, “I don't…know how to do this, to talk about the things that hurt. Until I was ten, nobody would listen. And then Dad and Mom took me in. They respected my habit of silence. I learned to
do,
and let my actions speak for me.”

Andie set her towel aside and reached for his hand, enfolding it in her two softer ones. “I understand, Clay. I really do. And maybe that worked out pretty well, when there was only you. But now, there are the two of us—the three of us, including Emily. And we can't live this way, with all these unsaid things between us. We need to talk about them.” She looked down at their hands and then back up at him. “Can we talk now, Clay? Please? Can I tell you all about it? About what an idiot I was, and why it happened, and
how
it happened?”

Clay moved the hand she clasped, enough so that their fingers could entwine. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you'd better,” he said. “Talk to me, Andie. Tell me. All of it.”

The words came tumbling out.

“It started when you returned from L.A., really. When you came home to take over the business…”

She told him how she'd felt then, so edgy and unsatisfied, yet unable to let her feelings out because she was determined to prove to him that she deserved her job.

“I thought if you ever got wind of how frustrated I was with having to show
you,
of all people, that I was really good at my job, you'd fire me on the spot.”

Clay couldn't help admitting, “I might have. At first.”

“Exactly. Anyway, I got through those months when you first came back. Things were going better. I knew you'd started to realize that I was an asset to Barrett and Company. Then Jeff came. And he was bright and fun and easy to be with. I understood he'd had some sort of problem, that he'd broken off an engagement. But I didn't really give it a lot of thought. I wasn't
really
after
him or anything. I just liked him. He was fun to be around. And then New Year's Eve came. We all went to Ruth Ann and Johnny's. You were dating Jill Peters, remember?”

He thought of Jill, though it was hard to picture her face. “Yes. I remember.”

“Anyway, that night it seemed like everyone in the world was coupled up. Except me and Jeff. You and Jill left early.”

“She had to work the next day.”

“Whatever. You two left early. And I…I imagined that you were going somewhere to be alone together. I suppose I was jealous, though I didn't know it then.”

“You were…?”

“Let me finish.”

“All right.”

“I drank more champagne. And Jeff and I kissed when the clock struck twelve. And he took me home, because I'd had more champagne than I should have. At my apartment, I had another bottle of champagne in the fridge. We opened it. We started talking. And I told him my dream.”

“Your dream?”

For the first time, Andie looked away. But after a moment, she collected herself and went on. “Yes. I'd always dreamed that there would be this man. And I'd know him when I saw him. And that we'd make love and it would be wonderful and we'd be together for the rest of our lives.”

Andie swallowed. “Jeff was great, he really was. I mean, he didn't laugh at me. He just listened. I started out talking about my dream as if it was something that didn't really matter anymore. I was trying to be sophisticated—you know, a worldly woman who was through with all that girlish sentimental stuff. Jeff and I even shared a toast—to the death of my silly romantic dreams. But then, when I lowered my glass after the toast, I just burst into tears. I was sobbing and snif
fling. And I said, ‘Oh, Jeff. There isn't going to be any special man, I know that now. It's just a fantasy. And I've been waiting all my life for someone who doesn't exist.'

“Jeff was holding me by then, kind of rubbing my back. My head was bowed, but then I lifted it to look in his eyes. We stared at each other for a moment. And then he kissed me. And after that, it just happened. We lay back on the couch and fumbled with our clothes. And we…had sex. It was awkward and painful—for me at least. And I don't think it was much different for Jeff. And when it was over, we both started apologizing to each other.”

Andie gave a wrenching little laugh. “It still amazes me. That from an act so…grim and mechanical, something like Emily came.” Andie clutched Clay's hand tightly. The tears still glittered in her eyes. One ran over the rim of her lower lid and trailed down her cheek to drop on their clasped hands. “Oh, Clay. It was such a stupid, reckless act. You can't know the guilt I feel for it. No one can….” Her teeth were clenched. Another tear fell.

Clay pulled her close and rocked her a little, whispering soothing, tender things against her wet hair. Finally, Andie was comforted enough to pull back a little, though she still gripped his hand as if she would never let go.

“And then,” she said with a sniffle, “Jeff started talking. He talked about Madeline. I don't really remember exactly what he said. But I could see how much he loved her. And how totally confused he was. And so I called him an idiot. I called him ten kinds of fool. I said, here I was lonely all the time because the love I was waiting for had never come to be. And there
he
was, with exactly the kind of love I would do anything for. And he was throwing it away. I told him to get back to L.A. and get down on his knees and beg that woman to take him back. And he…he said that was exactly what he was going to do.”

“And he did,” Clay said tenderly. “Do you remember that morning when Madeline called to say Jeff was dead?”

Andie shuddered. “I'll never forget it.”

“Well, that morning, she thanked me. For whatever I'd said to Jeff over the holidays. She said it had made all the difference. That when Jeff came back, he was changed. He really wanted to marry her then.”

Andie's smile was so sad and soft. “She did?”

“Yes, she did. She told me how grateful she was to me. I didn't argue with her. How could I at a time like that? But I had no idea what she was talking about. Now I do, though. It was what
you
had said to him.”

Andie didn't completely agree. “I think what really happened was that he had finally figured it out for himself. I only put in words what he'd already decided. But it is strange. Because I've always felt like I owed Jeff a debt, too. Because of him, because of all that happened as a result of that one night, I finally found what I was looking for.” She paused for a moment, and then she gave a low, musing laugh.

“What?”

“Just remembering. I was so full of…silly fantasies then. I was right about that special man. But I was afraid to admit to myself that he was you. I didn't even know what love was. Until I suddenly had to grow up—and until us.”

Clay had to clear his throat before he asked, rather stupidly, “You didn't?”

“No, I didn't. Oh, Clay. When will you let me love you? When will you believe that I do know what love is now, and I love
you,
Clay Barrett, more than anyone in the world…except maybe the baby sleeping in the other room?”

Clay took her words into himself. They filled him to overflowing with shining, glorious hope.

But there was another question he'd been holding back, one
that had been eating away at him since the day after he found out Jeff Kirkland was dead.

He dared to asked it: “If you love
me,
then why the hell did you insist on going to
his
funeral?”

Andie let out a heartfelt sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you? I went because of
you.
Because I thought you would need me. And I wanted to be there, if you did. I was sure Jeff would never have told Madeline about the baby. So Madeline shouldn't have had a clue that the baby was his. But she did have a clue. She had that canceled check. And so the truth came out, after all. And all the stress made me go into labor. It was so horrible. I knew I'd made one mistake in judgment after another. And yet you kept insisting that it was all right. But it wasn't all right.”

“I know,” he whispered softly. “I know.”

“Oh, Clay. I've been so
lonely.
It's been forever since you've let me near.”

“I
couldn't
let you near.”

“Why?”

He thought for a moment before he tried to explain. “Remember when you said I had to forgive Jeff and then forgive you, too?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you and Jeff weren't the only ones I had to forgive. There was myself, too. I'd called Jeff dead—and then he
was
dead. And I realized I'd turned my back on him.”

“But what else could you have done?”

“I don't know. But sometimes I think there might have been a better choice.”

“For a saint, maybe. But, Clay, you're just a man.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “Do I ever know. But it seemed like I had just messed everything up. And I had let you down, don't you see? In the most important way. For all
those years, I watched you. I think I always felt that I was watching
out
for you. And then, one night I
didn't
watch out for you. And my own best friend took advantage of you.”

“No, that's not true. Or at least if Jeff did take advantage of me, I did exactly the same thing to him. We took advantage of each other that night. And it really wasn't your fault, not in any way.” She let out a rueful chuckle. “In fact, when the truth came out, you went far beyond the call of duty. I mean, you married me yourself and gave Emily your own name.”

“But if I had only—”

“What? Not gone out with Jill that night so I wouldn't have been so jealous?”

“You're kidding. You weren't really jealous, were you?”

“I didn't know it then. But yes, you're darn right I was.”

Clay thought of Jeff again. And it wasn't as painful as it had been. He was able to explain, “All through college, Jeff was my damn
hero,
did you know that? He was the opposite of me. He was like you, always looking for adventure, always ready to have fun.”

“And he was reckless and he could be thoughtlessly cruel, as well. And now he's gone. It's so sad.” She laid a hand on the side of his face. “But if you want to talk about heroes, then the real hero was right here all along.”

Clay captured the hand that caressed his face. “I'm no hero, Andie.”

“Yes, yes you are. You're my hero. The best kind of hero. The kind who never rides off into the sunset, the kind who knows how to change a diaper, and load the dishwasher—and hold the baby for two hours while she's screaming with colic. The kind who also just happens to turn my bones to jelly every time you kiss me…”

“Hell, Andie, I—”

She touched his face again, a tender, knowing touch. “Oh,
Clay. Can't you see? It's love, Clay. Love is the thing that binds it all together. Love is the thing that makes forgiveness possible. And if you hold yourself aloof from love, then one wrong move from someone who matters to you, and it all falls apart. If you don't believe I love you, how can you know I mean the best for you, want to be with you, would never hurt you on purpose? None of the important things between a man and a woman can exist without love, Clay. Not trust. Not forgiveness. And not a future.”