Part-Time Wife (24 page)

"Everyone has noticed that Ben's lost weight," Craig said. "He's real proud. I can see it in the way he walks. It's like he's a different person. He's more friendly, more outgoing. He's also more patient with the younger kids."

"I think he was always outgoing, but the weight made him self-conscious." She scooted back to lean against the tree. Craig put his arm around her and pulled her against him. She rested her head on his chest.

"I noticed C.J. isn't so much of a smart-mouth these days. Danny has more confidence."

"They're growing up," she said.

"Maybe. But I think it's because of you."

Pleasure filled her. "Really?"

"Yeah." He drew in a deep breath. "You've had an effect on me, too, Jill."

The grass was soft under her bare legs. Above them, the sky was a brilliant blue. The sounds of shouts and laughter from the football game carried to them. She absorbed them all, saving them to remember later.

His arm was like a warm band of protection. She continued to rest her cheek on his chest, not only to listen to his heart, but also to avoid his gaze. She wasn't sure she wanted to have this conversation.

"We can't pretend it didn't happen," he said. "Maybe I should say – I can't. Making love with you meant something. To me, at least."

That got her attention. She tilted her head so she could look at his face. "Of course it meant something to me, too. I don't give myself lightly. You're the first man I've been with since my divorce."

"I wasn't saying that. We have to deal with what we did. There are ramifications of making love."

Making love. Lovers
. Lovely words, but did they apply to this situation? Hadn't she and Craig both admitted to just reacting?

"A temporary romantic relationship will upset and confuse the boys," she said. "I don't want to be responsible for that. They've been through enough."

Craig stiffened and dropped his arm from her shoulders. "A temporary romantic relationship?"

"It couldn't be anything else," she blurted out.

"Why not?"

"Because…"

Because anything else was too terrifying to consider. If the sex became lovemaking, then her heart would be at risk. She would care more. She would fall for him. Once again she would be admitted because she was convenient, not because
she
was loved. This time, being used would destroy her.

"Because you don't really care about me," she said. "You're just reacting to the situation."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I am."

"How do you know it's not more than that?" She'd been able to read his expression for quite some time, but now his dark eyes and firm mouth gave nothing away.

She fumbled for words. "Because… That is…" She cleared her throat. "You can't expect me to believe anything else. What are you trying to say? That you've been single all these years, suddenly I show up and poof, you're healed? After hating Krystal and not trusting women, you want to make a commitment? I don't think so."

Her temper flared and she shifted until she was kneeling next to him. "It's all so convenient. That's what I resent the most. You're hinting at a relationship just about the time that everything is settling into place at home. The boys like me, you like me, so what better way to keep me where you want me than with terrific sex and the promise of something permanent in the not-to-be-named future?"

Suddenly she
could
read his expression, and he was damned angry.

"I'm not your ex-husband," he said, his voice low and cold. "If you think I am, you don't know me at all."

She twisted her fingers together. "I know, Craig. I'm sorry. You're not Aaron. You're also right about me not knowing you. We don't know each other very well. That's part of the problem. I thought I knew him and I was wrong. What if I'm wrong about you, too?"

"No," he said. "This isn't about me, it's about you. You want me to be a jerk. You want to believe I'm just like him because then you don't have to risk anything. You want me to be willing to make a commitment, but what do you have to put on the line?"

"That's not fair," she said hotly.

"Isn't it? Doesn't this truth thing go both ways?"

"I would never do anything to hurt you."

"How do I know that? My ex-wife was the most dishonest person I'd ever met, yet I'm willing to give you a chance. Why can't you do the same?"

He made it sound so reasonable. She didn't want to think she was being unfair. She'd never meant to be. "I don't know what to say."

He rose to his feet and towered over her. "I don't know what we could have had between us, but I was willing to give it a shot. I know it's hard to believe that after all this time you're the first woman who's turned me on, but it's true. And I don't just mean about sex. I mean about everything. Being with you—"

He broke off and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hell, it doesn't matter."

She wanted to tell him that it did, but he wasn't listening to her anymore. She'd taken care of that.

"You say you don't want to confuse the children, but I think the person you're really afraid for is yourself," he said. "You're the one who's confused. Maybe you picked Aaron on purpose. Maybe you wanted someone who would use you so you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of a real relationship."

She stood up and glared at him. "How dare you? You have no right to say that to me."

"Tell me one thing, Jill. You're a bright woman. You held a responsible job. Why couldn't you see what a jerk Aaron was? Why did you stay with him? It was easy, wasn't it? Life is always easier when you get to hold a piece of yourself back. It's giving everything away that gets so damn messy."

He turned on his heel and started for the house. She wanted to go after him, but she didn't know what she was going to say. Accuse him of being a selfish jerk? Hard words to speak when there was a very good chance that he was right … about everything.

Chapter 14

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J
ill added the eggs, oil and the prune mixture to the dry ingredients, then stirred until everything had blended together. Last she dumped in the nuts. After spooning the quick bread into the pan, she popped it in the oven and set the timer. As much as the boys complained about prune bread, they managed to devour nearly the whole loaf in one sitting every time she made it.

She glanced at the clock and saw she had a few minutes before she had to leave to pick up Danny at school. C.J. and Ben were both spending the afternoon with friends.

Jill walked through the family room, pausing to straighten a pile of magazines. The house was never in perfect order, but she didn't mind. Better for everyone to be happy than the edges of the books lined up with the front of the shelf. Craig had wanted to keep the cleaning service, so she didn't have to worry about scrubbing the bathrooms, but with five people in one house, there was plenty of other work to keep her busy. Especially now that Craig was home most evenings.

The last man who had been trying to cheat the elderly drivers had finally been arrested, and Craig was back on a regular schedule. He was home for dinner more often than not. At first it had been odd having him around, but she'd grown used to talking to him at the dinner table. They spent time with the boys, helping with homework, reading or playing games. She felt like a necessary part of a team. Which was odd because she and Craig were barely speaking to each other if they happened to be alone.

Other people made it safe. When the final arrest had been made, several of the senior citizens Craig had been trying to protect had invited him and his boys over for dinner. He'd brought Jill along. She'd loved the evening. She and Craig had sat next to each other and chatted. But as soon as they returned home and the boys went to bed, there was nothing to say.

She grabbed her purse from her bedroom and walked out into the garage. After pushing the garage door button, she waited for it to finish opening, then put the sport-utility vehicle into reverse and backed out.

The tension had started after their weekend in Glenwood three weeks ago. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. So they avoided the subject and each other. It was easier than facing the truth.

As she pulled up to the stop sign, she knew she had only herself to blame. Craig had wanted to talk about it. He'd wanted to consider the possibility that they might have a chance at a relationship, but Jill couldn't do that. She couldn't risk the pain. But even as she hid behind her fears, she wondered if Craig was right.

Had she chosen Aaron deliberately, knowing that it probably wouldn't work? Had she kept a piece of herself back from him and the girls? Had it been easier to live in the pretend world than to risk finding and possibly losing real love?

She didn't want to think that about herself. Everyone had failings, but no one liked to think about them. And to have Craig be the one pointing them out to her… She pressed on the gas and shuddered. Yet there was a part of her that knew he was right.

She
was
a smart woman. She had hidden the truth from herself. She'd gone into the marriage because it was easy and she'd stayed because it gave her an excuse not to try again.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, but instead of the car behind her, she saw only ugly truths. She gave so much to Aaron and the girls, but she gave because of what she wanted back, not because of what they needed. Oh, she cared about them. There were nights when missing the girls kept her up. But she rarely thought about Aaron.

The divorce had been painful to her pride, but losing her husband hadn't touched her heart.

She pulled into the line of cars already waiting in front of the school. The children had just been let out and most came running toward the vehicles. A few paused to chat with friends until sharp honks reminded them that someone was waiting. Jill scanned the children, looking for Danny. She finally spotted the little boy walking slowly across the grass.

She frowned. Danny usually ran, skipped or jumped when he was going somewhere. Walking was too boring. As he approached, she opened the car door, then took his books and set them in the back seat. He reached for the seat belt without saying anything.

"Danny, do you feel all right?" she asked.

"I guess."

She touched his forehead, then his cheeks. He didn't feel warm. "Are you tired? Do you think you're coming down with something?"

He shook his head.

She stared at him. He hadn't really been himself for several days. Now that she was thinking about it, she'd been noticing odd things on and off for about a week.

"Is there a problem with your Pee-Wee team?"

"No. I'm doing good. I might get to play third base." For a moment he smiled, and the Danny she knew returned. Then, just as quickly, his smile faded and he was gone.

"Your brothers are visiting friends this afternoon. It's just going to be the two of us. What would you like to do?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"I'll help you with your hitting if you want," she offered.

"No thanks." He stared out the side window. Not knowing what else to say, she started the car and drove home. Once there, Danny ate half a piece of still-warm prune bread, then completed his math sheet. He didn't have any more homework, so he excused himself and went to his room.

Fifteen minutes later, Jill couldn't stand it. She climbed the stairs, went to his closed door and knocked. "Danny, may I come in?"

"Okay."

She opened the door and stepped inside. He was sitting in the center of his bed, hugging a ragged teddy bear. One of the animal's ears was missing and the fur had been rubbed off its paws. Danny looked so alone and sad. She sank down next to him and gently drew him into her arms.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said.

He didn't speak.

She rocked back and forth, holding him. He was small and slight. He continued to clutch at his bear. The sound of slow, steady breathing filled the room. She stroked his soft hair and waited.

Finally he sighed. "I'm not big enough," he said softly.

"For what?"

"For everything."

"You're big enough to get dressed on your own. Big enough to eat. Big enough to go to school, to play ball, to watch TV. You're big enough to get into trouble."

He raised his head and looked at her. He wasn't smiling. His light brown eyes were wide and filled with misery. "I'm not as big as C.J. and Ben."

"But they're older than you. You won't be as big as them until you're all grown up."

He shook his head. "I'm smaller than they were."

He slipped out of her embrace and started for the door. She followed. In the hallway, on a narrow section of wall next to the computer, were several horizontal lines with names next to them. She hadn't noticed them before. They showed the boys' heights at different ages.

"See," he said, pointing. "There's Ben when he was seven. C.J. was even taller." He leaned against the wall. He was definitely a couple of inches shorter. "I'm going to be seven next month. I won't grow enough in time to be as tall as them."