His Wife for a While (13 page)

Ben could only shake his head in utter disbelief that a woman could treat her child so callously.

"I remember the last time she took me out in the car. I woke up and it was just getting light outside. I was hungry and thirsty. I had to go to the bathroom so badly... but I waited for my mother."

He saw her throat move in a difficult swallow.

"But she never came. A man tapped on the window and tried to get in, but I wouldn't unlock the door. A lady from the police station came."

A whispery smile chased across
Chelsea
's lips, but there was no hint of humor in her tone.

"But I still wouldn't let them in. They ended up using some kind of tool to unlock the car. I was crying, wailing for my mother. But she never heard me... she never came."

Another tear slipped down her cheek.

"I don't remember much after that. I do know that I only saw my mother one last time."

She sniffed and Ben reached over, pulled a tissue from the box and tucked it into her still fingers. She made no move to dry her eyes.

"I remember sitting at this long table. There were lots of people there. Men in suits. Big briefcases. And a pretty lady in a flowered dress who kept smiling at me.

Ben wanted to take
Chelsea
's hand, but didn't know if he should.

"My mother came into the room. She got very loud. Yelling and angry. Her face was all... red and ugly. Her eyes bulging and..."

Her voice went limp and then she seemed to let go of that particular memory.

"They finally took her out. Two policemen helped her out the door. Then all the people at the table talked." Her head tilted to one side. "Their voices were low, and they seemed very serious. Not angry, but very… intense. I couldn't make out what they were saying. But every once in a while the pretty lady would look over and smile at me."

His gut tightened as he listened to
Chelsea
describe what had obviously been a formal hearing of a child protection agency.

"I went to live with other children who had been taken from their homes."

Ben was helpless against his grunt of approval. "Sounds like that's the best thing that could have happened," he murmured.

"But, Ben," she said, "it killed me to go there. I loved my mother. I missed her. I cried for her every day. It felt like my heart had been ripped right out of my chest."

A lump rose in Ben's throat, and he didn't trust himself to respond. The child
Chelsea
had been couldn't have realized that she was being neglected, couldn't have known that the "men in suits" were only trying to protect her best interests.

"The people there… I called them nurses because they wore white uniforms… they were nice. For the most part."

She absently reached up, and in what looked like an almost childish gesture, she began twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger.

"There was this one lady, though. She didn't like the kids much. I heard her talking about me. '
That Chelsea Carson, now there's a child only a mother could love, and hers doesn't
,' is what she said. Those words were seared into my brain."
Chelsea
's voice became thoughtful as she said, "It took me a long time to figure out what she meant."

Tucking the strand of hair behind her ear, she shook her head, almost as though she was physically putting the thought behind her.

"I went to live with a foster family after that." Her mouth pulled back into a sad, little smile and she whispered, "I went to live with Mama Higgins."

Chelsea
went silent for a long while and Ben didn't push. He was willing to give her all the time she needed.

Finally, she licked at her lips and continued. "I stayed with Mama Higgins… she asked me if I minded calling her that… for, oh, about a year, I guess."

She placed her fingers over her broadening smile. "I was very happy there," she said, lowering her hand. "I had new clothes, and I was never hungry. Mama Higgins let me help her cook dinner. We chopped vegetables. And I set the table." Her eyes twinkled in the dim light of the patio. "Christmas was wonderful that year. Santa actually brought me presents. I remember unwrapping this beautiful, curly-haired doll." She closed her eyes and nodded. "I was happy with Mama Higgins."

Then the fleeting joy that had brightened her features was suddenly gone and she sighed. "Then one day this social worker came. The lady told me that Mama Higgins wanted to adopt me. I didn't know exactly what that meant, I only knew it made me very happy. But the lady said that my mother wouldn't let that happen. I figured out years later that my mother refused to sign away her parental rights, but back then all it meant to me was that I couldn't live with Mama Higgins any more."

"
But, why
?" Ben's zealous tone surprised him, and he calmed down before he said, "The woman obviously wanted you. Why wouldn't the state let you stay where you were happy?"

Chelsea shrugged. "I don't know. Some state restriction. Some law maybe? Maybe the foster system was doing the right thing. Mama Higgins had begun to look at me like a daughter, but I couldn't be her daughter. Maybe they were…" The thought faded on a sigh. "I don't know. Who can say?"

Ben couldn't believe the anger rattling inside him. It was frustrating as hell, because he wanted to yell at someone, take up for the helpless little girl who couldn't look out for herself. He wanted to make things right, but all this had happened so long ago and the time to take action had long passed.

"I was so young," Chelsea said. "But I knew that I never wanted to love anyone ever again. I learned that loving meant hurting. And I didn't want to hurt anymore."

She grew quiet. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the terrible circumstances his wife had lived through had caused her heart to freeze. Ben resisted the urge to reach out and caress her cheek. He felt she might not appreciate the gesture, or worse, she just might resent it.

He was filled with so many emotions he had a hard time sorting through them all. Two things kept coming to the forefront of his mind. One was a fact: Chelsea's heart and soul were locked up tight. The other was a question: What could he do to release her so that she could understand that joy was as much a part of life as the pain she had already experienced?

Chelsea felt drained. She harbored a deep sense of shame because of her childhood. If she wanted to be totally honest with Ben, she'd have to admit to him there was something wrong with her. She'd figured that out a very long time ago. Otherwise, why hadn't her mother loved her? Why had her mother given her away... like she had been some worn, out-of-fashion coat?

Yes, Chelsea knew she was very definitely flawed. Her mother hadn't loved her, and Mama Higgins hadn't been allowed to. But then, Ben already knew she was imperfect. How could he not? Saying the words aloud would only embarrass them both.

What she needed to do was finish her story and get this painful but necessary exposure out of the way.

"As soon as I was old enough," she said, her voice stronger now, "I left Philadelphia. I traveled around a bit. Worked odd jobs. And then one day I found myself in Kemblesville, right in the middle of Reed's Orchard." She laughed softly. "John Reed was a crotchety old guy."

"That's true enough," Ben agreed.

"It was late fall and I was picking apples." Chelsea snorted, and then admitted, "Stealing them, actually. I had filled my backpack to overflowing. He caught me red-handed. I thought he'd chase me off, or call the police and have me arrested. He had every right to, that's for sure. But he didn't. He offered me dinner instead." She shook her head. "I was too surprised to turn him down."

Her mouth pulled into a wry grin. "He made me take a bath before he'd let me sit at his table. And then he told me I'd be doing some chores around the place to pay him back for his fruit."

"Ha!" Ben laughed. "That's my grandfather all right. Always telling other people what they'll be doing."

"I was belligerent toward him," she said, regretfully. "I was certain he'd turn his back on me sooner or later. But I've been here ever since."

She gazed at Ben. "So when you said I must have talked a good story to get the job, you were wrong. John Reed gave me this job because he knew I needed it. He knew without my telling him." Sudden moisture blurred her vision, and in a far-off voice she added, "I hadn't realized that until just this moment."

"Chels, there's something I need to say." Ben cleared his throat before continuing. This was something he'd wanted to explain for a long time, but he never could figure out how to bring it up. "The winter I came home from college and you were working here... I just want to let you know how sorry I am about... what happened between us."

She went utterly still, and Ben hurried on with his own confession. "What I mean to say is... I never knew about all the things that you'd gone through. If I had, I never would have tormented you the way I did." He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "Hell, I should admit it… I was just plain stupid. Immature. Cocky." His lips twisted. "Like I said, stupid. Whether I knew about your past or not has nothing to do with it."

The intensity was evident in her big, dark eyes, despite the shadows cast by the night across the patio. Ben could only hope that she'd accept his apology.

"It's okay, Ben," she said.

"It isn't okay! It wasn't then and it isn't now. No one deserves to be treated the way I treated you." Or the way others have treated you, Ben thought.

"I shouldn't have let my friends rib me into coming on to you. Peer pressure is an awful thing." He made a disgusted sound. "Who am I kidding? It was my fault. I have to take responsibility for my own actions. I do want you to know that I would have taken you out on a date… if you had taken me up on my offer."

Chelsea only looked at him. Sure you would have, she thought. And I'm the queen of England, too.

"I shouldn't have kept on and on about it," he said. "After you turned me down once, I should have left you alone. But I'd been drinking, and my friends were razzing me. I just didn't... I didn't..."

The deep regret expressed in his eyes touched her.

The air had been crisp and cold the night she had come upon him and his friends drinking. She'd gone out for a moonlit walk, the thin layer of snow crunching under her feet. One of the young men had howled like a wolf as she'd passed. Ben had broken away from his buddies and started following her. At first, he'd said nothing. He'd just whistled a merry tune. Then he'd said her name. He'd sung it, really. Uncomfortable with the game he was playing, she'd stopped dead and turned to face him. He'd tried to be smooth when he'd asked her to go out with him, and when she'd rebuffed him, he'd blinked in surprise. The cold temperature wasn't enough to staunch the yeasty scent of beer wafting around him. He became belligerent. Called her Chilly
Chelsea
. Told her she'd never find a boyfriend when she was so timid, that what she needed was a long, hot kiss to melt her icy heart.

And then he'd made the mistake of putting his hand on her arm.  

"If it's any consolation to you," he said in a humble tone, "my cheek smarted for three days."

Chelsea had to chuckle. "I am sorry I slapped you. I'm not normally a violent person, but I was a little scared. And angry."

"I don't want you to apologize. I deserved it. I need for you to accept my apology."

"Look, it meant nothing. Okay?"

Ben watched her turn away from him and glance out into the darkness. She was probably right. It had meant nothing to her.
Chelsea
had, in all likelihood, pushed the memory of what he'd done to her right out of her head. She'd filed it in her mind with all those other awful memories that needed forgetting. What an ass he'd been. Knowing that he had added to her pain wrenched his gut.