His Wife for a While (20 page)

A knot formed in
Chelsea
's throat and she only nodded.

"But I was only just getting to know you," May said. "Maybe you could stay on a while. Just until the baby's born? I'd love to see the little tyke. And I know Ben would, too."

When
Chelsea
shook her head, she knew the action was more terse than she'd meant for it to be. But it was difficult to manage her body language and fight for control of her inner emotions at the same time.

"I'm afraid not," she said. "It wouldn't be a good idea."

"But you and Ben have gotten along so well. Maybe…"

"No, May." Her tone was emphatic now. "I can't stay. A clean break would be best."

Her heart broke when she saw the hurt look that crossed May's face. Her words hadn't been meant to injure May, only to create some distance between them.

Purposefully withdrawing from this woman whom she'd come to love made
Chelsea
feel lousy, but it was time for her to leave Reed's Orchard behind. She had to protect herself from as much hurt as she possibly could. Retreating emotionally now was the best thing for both of them. She had to look away from May's dispirited gaze.

"Does Ben know?"

Shaking her head negatively,
Chelsea
said, "He left the house early, to get as much outside work completed as possible. The weather report called for rain. Do you know where I can find him? I'd like to tell him."

"I'm not sure where he is," May said. "I was thinking I'd better call him. I heard reports of hail."

"Hail."

The word sent fear racing through her. Hail was a nightmare for fruit growers. Hailstorms and the wind that came with them could wreak irreparable damage on the delicate fruit crop. An abrupt hailstorm could also spell danger to the workers who had the misfortune to be caught in one.

"Ben should know,"
Chelsea
said, her voice raising a little with sudden tension. "Did you try to reach him on the two-way?"

May refused to carry a cell phone, grousing that she prized her privacy too much to give every Tom, Dick and Harry the chance to shatter her peace and quiet with a phone call. Chelsea and Ben both had tried to explain the convenience of voice mail, e-mail and text messaging, but May would have none of it. So they kept the ancient two-way radio in the shop and Ben was forced to carry around the receiver which was usually stuck on top of the dashboard of his truck.

"I tried, but there was nothing but static."

"I'll call and then send him a text. If he doesn't answer either, I'll go look for him."

"But
Chelsea
," May said, "it isn't safe for you to be driving around. You should just stay here. The sky is getting darker every second. Even if the weather doesn't bring hail, it looks as if it will at least pour cats and dogs."

That was when the first rumblings of thunder shattered the silence of the sky.

"Maybe he'll answer his phone,"
Chelsea
told her. And when he didn't, she left a message and then thumbed in a quick text. "He needs to know about the hail report."

"So he can do what?"

"I don't know, May," she said, sliding her cell phone into the pocket of her jeans. "Ben and the others could be hurt if they don't know to take shelter."

She pressed send and then hurried to the door. "I'm not going to wait to see if he texts back. You keep trying to reach him by radio."

"I will," May assured her. "You be careful."

Chelsea
hurried to Ben's office and grabbed the keys to one of the orchard pickup trucks. She burst through the door and out into the parking lot.

The sky turned ominously dark, the thunderclouds gathering with terrifying speed. The breeze that had been so delightful during her walk to work was now strengthening, whipping at her hair as she made her way to the pickup. The engine turned over and
Chelsea
pulled onto the narrow country road.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and
Chelsea
jumped. The growing fear that Ben might be caught out in this precarious weather made it hard for her to decide where to go in search of him. The small screen on her cell remained annoyingly empty. Finally, she decided to try to get in front of the storm.

Driving a little faster than what she would consider safe, she scanned the rows of trees in one orchard after another for some sight of Ben and the men.

Damn it! If she hadn't allowed herself to fall in love Ben, her heart wouldn't be racing in her chest right now, panic wouldn't be clogging her throat and making it hard for her to breathe. Where was he?

She searched two more groves before she saw several dark green trucks just like the one she was driving. Pulling onto the dirt track that led through the orchard, she felt a tremendous relief when she saw a group of men coming over the ridge.

The rear end of the truck skidded a bit as she came to a stop. She opened the door and glanced over her shoulder to see the storm was quickly approaching. In fact, several fat raindrops hit the windshield.

"Where's Ben?" she called to the men.

They gestured behind them and continued on their way to the parked trucks.

"I'm here, Chels," Ben said. "What are you doing out in this weather?"

"I've been looking for you." She was surprised by the breathlessness of her voice. "I wanted to tell you about the storm."

His mouth split into a grin as he remarked, "You don't think I have enough sense to get in out of the rain?"

She wanted so badly to throw her arms around him, kiss him and tell him she was happy he was safe. But she didn't.

"May heard reports of hail," she told him.

He shouted orders at the men, then reached into his pocket and tossed his keys to one of them. The work crew broke up, got into the vehicles and drove away. Ben took
Chelsea
by the arm and guided her toward her truck.

"You shouldn't have come out."

She was jolted by the sudden edge his voice.

"But I called you," she tried to explain. "Left a message. Sent a text. May even tried to reach you on the two-way."

Without thought, his free hand went to the cell phone that was hooked to his belt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't hear a thing."

They got into the cab of the truck and Ben started the engine.

"But you still shouldn't have come out," he said. "You could have had an accident on the wet roads. Anything could have happened."

"But…"

"I'll take you back to the office. And I want you to stay there."

"You won't be staying?" she asked.

"I can't, Chels." His eyes were glued to the road ahead of them. "I have to go see what's going on."

"Then, let me go with you,"
Chelsea
pleaded.

"No. It's best if you go back to the store," he said. "Or home."

"I want to go," she said, putting a stubborn edge on the words. "I want to be there for you if..." She let the words fade, unwilling to speak the possibilities.

He didn't answer, he simply drove on in silence.
Chelsea
didn't know if he was planning on taking her back to the office or not.

When he reached the intersection and didn't turn toward the office, she knew she'd be going with him. An astounding sense of relief flooded her.

Ben drove toward the storm front, and the first gust of wind that hit the truck made
Chelsea
gasp. She clutched her hands together in her lap and watched the sky turn black as they drove into the dense curtain of rain.

The silence was a heavy shroud in the cab of the pickup. Ben concentrated on driving in the blinding torrent;
Chelsea
fought back her fear of what damage the weather might inflict on the orchard.

Chelsea
turned her gaze on Ben and she saw him lean forward and snatch up the radio receiver from the dashboard.

"Aunt May, this is Ben," he said after pushing the transmitter button. "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

He repeated the call and May's voice sounded faint in the midst of the static.

"I'm here, Ben," May said.

"Did the men get back?"

"Everyone came in and I sent them on home for the rest of the morning," she said. "Is
Chelsea
with you?"

"She's here," Ben said.

"You two should…"

May's voice was broken up by a loud crackling and a bolt of lightning zigzagged across the sky.

"We'll be in soon," Ben assured her, raising his voice in the hopes that his aunt would hear.

"…hail southeast of town…"

The rest of what May had said was drowned in a sea of static. Ben and Chelsea looked at one another.

"The peaches."

Ben's tone was strained, and the anxiety in the pit of
Chelsea
's stomach churned sickeningly.

He switched off the receiver and immediately turned the truck in a southeasterly direction.

In less than ten minutes he was turning onto the dirt track that led back to the peach orchard. Hail had begun to strike the roof of the truck with tiny pings.

Chelsea
hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until her cerebral impulses forced her to suck in air. She exhaled and fear shimmied up her spine.

"How bad is it?" She couldn't help but ask Ben, even though she knew very well that the two of them were looking out the same windshield, seeing the same slight incline that hid the orchard from view.

Ben shifted into a lower gear. And as the truck slowly climbed the hill,
Chelsea
could tell the hailstones were growing larger. It was as though rocks were being thrown at the roof and windshield of the truck. Every thump and ping made her want to flinch.

"Oh, hell," he murmured as he pushed his foot against the brake pedal and brought the truck to a stop.

The wind whipped the trees as the hail pummeled the young fruit relentlessly, viciously. Broken branches flew across their view like tumbleweed. Ben and Chelsea could only sit there and helplessly watch the stones of ice destroy the peach crop.

The weather worsened. The sound of the hail hitting the cab became deafening. One stone the size of a large nut crashed down on the truck, denting its hood.

"Let's get out of here," Ben said, his voice gravelly with stress.

He executed a three-point turn and steered the truck back toward the paved road.

Chelsea
felt trapped by the silence that lay between them. She knew he was hurting, she knew he was worried sick, but she didn't know how to make things better. She couldn't seem to find the words that would make this bleak situation any brighter.