Here With Me (21 page)

Because without a wall, she was doomed.

She was no trembling virgin. Obviously. But
neither was she terribly experienced. What she needed was another
woman to talk to. She had Grandmother and Aunt Genevieve, of
course. But given that they thought she was married to George,
they’d have more questions than answers. Tilly didn’t count. That
left her alone.

Which meant that she really needed to go to
the place where she never felt lonely. She looked at her watch. It
was another fifteen minutes before dinner. Plenty of time. She
walked out the front door, past the length of the house, and turned
the corner to get to the garden. She walked with purpose through
the vine-covered arbor, past the colored stepping-stones, and
didn’t stop until she reached her destination.

It was cooler than it had been at lunchtime,
and the shadows were gathering. She could hear the frogs in the
pond and could both hear and see the small yellows bees that jumped
from flower to flower. The hour or two before sunset was absolutely
the best time to be in the garden and she wished she had more time
to relax and simply draw it in.

But she hadn’t come to relax. She’d come to
confess and perhaps seek a little absolution. She sat down on the
bench. “I think I love him,” she whispered. It seemed a fitting way
to start the conversation. “He’s smart and funny and very kind. And
he’s gorgeous and doesn’t even seem to realize it.”

She dug the toe of her sandal into the soft
dirt. She needed to be honest. “He hasn’t said anything about
staying. I don’t think he’s planning on it.”

She reached down, grabbed a handful of
pebbles out of the dirt, and one-by-one, sent them skipping across
the surface of the pond. “I’m not asking him to make promises that
he can’t keep. I guess all I’m asking for is now.”

She could feel the wind pick up. The
black-eyed Susans leaned to the right and the fresh scent of
Russian sage traveled in the breeze. “Be happy for me, Momma. I
know what I’m doing.”

The wind suddenly changed direction and she
could have sworn that she heard the gentle call of a seagull. But
she knew that was impossible.

She sat for a few more minutes before she
wandered back to the house. She reached for the front door just as
it swung open. George stood there, a worried look on his face.

“We were about to sit down to dinner. Where
were you?” he asked.

“I just needed a walk,” she said. “To clear
my head.”

She started to move past him and he reached
out. He plucked at her sleeve and then handed her a small sprig of
wisteria. “I don’t want to be the cause of your concerns,” he
said.

“I’m not concerned,” she said honestly. She’d
come to a decision. It felt peaceful. If George, on the other hand,
knew what was in store for him, he’d be running for the next
county.

She led him into the dining room. Grandmother
was already seated as were Tilly and Louis. Across the table, Aunt
Genevieve was just taking her chair. George pulled out Melody’s
chair and she took her seat. Once he was seated, she scooted her
chair in.

And a little to the right.

A few minutes later, when she leaned to reach
for the rolls, she took some pleasure in hearing his breath catch
when her bare leg brushed up against his pants. And she could
barely keep a smile off her face when Grandmother had to repeat her
question twice before George seemed to realize that she was talking
to him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “What was that
you asked?”

“I wondered if there was anyone whom you
wanted me to invite to our celebration?”

He shook his head.

“No family in the area?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Friends?”

He shook his head.

Uncle Louis laid down his fork and leaned
forward. “Just where is it that you come from, George?”

George took his time cutting a piece of meat.
“North Dakota,” he said finally.

Melody moved her leg away. George didn’t need
her messing with his mind, not when Louis looked like he was just
beginning.

“So you two met when Melody was in
college?”

“Yes, that’s right,” George said.

Melody let out her breath. So far so good.
But she tensed again when Louis opened his mouth. Before he could
speak, she jumped in. “We. . .uh. . .met again. . .uh. . .late this
fall and—”

George laid his hand on her arm. “Let me,
darling. I’ll love telling this story.” He turned back to Louis. “I
met your niece on a beach and I knew right away that she was
something special. But I was a younger man then, full of ambition
and dreams of faraway places. I let her get away and regretted it.
When our paths crossed again, I knew I wouldn’t make the same
mistake twice.”

She made a conscious effort to close her
mouth. The man made it look so easy. And if she had any knack in
reading the faces around the table, they were buying it hook, line,
and sinker.

Grandmother and Aunt Genevieve were smiling.
Bernard was nodding his head. Tilly looked a little misty-eyed.
Louis was dry-eyed but he had settled back in his chair.

Her grandmother raised her wineglass in the
air and said, “To the happy couple.”

“Hear, hear,” Aunt Genevieve chimed in.
Everyone at the table reached for their wineglasses. Melody picked
up her water glass and drained it.

They’d missed a bullet and it was because
George had pushed her out of the way. If he had let her talk, she’d
have painted a target on their backs.

“Grandmother, whomever you want to invite
will be fine,” Melody said, doing what she could to keep the
conversation from coming back to George. “How about the menu?” she
asked.

The ensuing discussion of possible appetizers
and main courses and desserts got them all the way through that
night’s dinner and dessert. Within seconds of finishing her apple
pie, Melody put down her fork. “I’ve got a book I’ve started that’s
calling my name. Will you all excuse me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed
back her chair but George, as usual, beat her to the punch. He was
already standing with a hand out to help her up. He followed her up
the stairs.

“You were amazing,” she said, as soon as he’d
closed the door behind them. “How do you do it?”

He looked uncomfortable with her praise. “All
I did was tell them the truth.”

“What?”

“Everything I said was true. I just left out
the part that it all happened in a span of less than twelve
hours.”

What was it he’d said? That he knew she was
something special? Her heart started to beat too fast and Jingle,
having been sort of quiet during dinner, did a flutter kick. “So
you meant everything you said?” she asked.

He ran a hand through his thick hair.
“Melody, do we need to talk about this?”

His meaning was clear. Nothing had changed.
He still wasn’t going to act upon any attraction that he might feel
for her.

The hell with that.

But there was no need for him to know about
the Plan. “Of course not. I’m sure we’re both tired. How about we
get some sleep?”

She undressed in the bathroom and when she
opened the door, George was in his usual spot, the quilt pulled up
to his shoulders. She climbed into bed and turned away from him.
Two minutes later, she rolled to her back. Five minutes later, to
her other side. This time she let out a sigh. It was soft but
definitely audible.

Five minutes later, she rolled back onto her
back. Finally, with what she hoped was the appropriate note of
apology in her voice, she said, “George?”

“Yes.”

“I hate to ask but my back is killing me. Do
you think you could rub it?”

She heard the sound of him throwing back the
quilt. With her back toward him, she edged toward the middle of the
bed. “Have a seat,” she said.

She felt the mattress tip as he sat next to
her. “Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“In the middle,” she said.

His hands were hot on her skin and his touch
tentative. “Here?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s good,” she said. And it was.
She tried not to feel guilty. Practically every book she’d picked
up on the subject of pregnancy said a good backrub did wonders.

She knew exactly what else would do wonders,
too. Maybe even bring a glow to her skin. Heck. She was just
practicing good health. It was sort of like watching her
cholesterol.

“Better?” he asked, sounding hopeful. She
could feel his weight shift, like he was getting ready to spring
off the bed, back to the safety of his quilt.

No way. He was not getting off the hook that
easy. “Just a little bit lower,” she said.

He paused, then she felt his hands inch down
the length of her back and finally settle at the base of her spine.
“That’s it,” she said.

He kneaded her muscles with his thumbs and in
the process, his fingers spread across the rise of her buttocks.
Feeling bold, she arched her back. His hands stilled.

“Melody?” he asked. His voice sounded
hoarse.

“Yes.”

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

She was glad that she couldn’t see his face.
“Stretching?” she replied.

He made some kind of noise. It wasn’t a laugh
or a groan but some odd combination of the two. “You’ve no shame,
do you?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just resigned.

She flipped over onto her back and looked at
him. There was just a hint of light in the room coming from the
bathroom light which always stayed on. He was shaking his head at
her.

“So this is your new way to torment me?” he
asked.

“What?”

“It takes everything I have to lie on this
floor, to know that you’re just feet away from me. But I could do
it because I could tell myself that we both knew it was wrong. But
now, you expect me to lie here, my wanting only increased by the
knowledge that you’d have me without protest. That you’d take me
into your body, and have my heat warm you, and my sweat touch your
skin. You would have me, all of me.”

Oh brother. Her lungs felt like she’d been
running a marathon and moisture gathered between her legs.
“George?” she whispered.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. He
sounded weary. “I’m not that strong.”

She reached up and touched his face. “Take me
to bed, George.”

His whole body shook and she thought that
just maybe she had convinced him. Then he reached up, wrapped his
hand around her wrist, and gently lowered her arm back to her side.
“No.”

He stood up and gathered his pillow and quilt
up off the floor. He placed the pillow next to her and laid the
quilt at the end of the bed. Then he walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll sleep
downstairs, in the piano room.”

She pressed two fingers to the bridge of her
nose, willing herself not to cry. “It doesn’t have to be this
way.”

“Yes, actually it does,” he said. He opened
the door and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

The room seemed suddenly empty and very quiet
and she felt very alone. She rolled onto her side and pushed her
body up. Then she walked over to the dresser, gently picked up the
Raggedy Ann doll, and returned to bed.

Even so, it took a very long time to fall
asleep.

***

At noon the next day, when George showed up
for lunch, he had grease up to his elbows. Arturo didn’t look much
better. Melody, who’d just finished her own lunch, sat on the front
porch with her grandmother. She been enjoying watching the dogs
play in the yard. They were now sunning themselves on the front
step of the porch.

“What happened to you two?” Grandmother
asked.

“Irrigation pump stopped working,” George
said.

That wasn’t good. Grapes needed water, not
too much, but definitely not too little, either. “Do you have the
parts to fix it?” Melody asked, knowing that Gino kept reserve
parts for almost everything.

“We’ve got everything but an extra pulley,”
Arturo said, sounding disgusted. “I called around and Peterson’s
Plumbing in Napa has one.”

“Then it’s your lucky day. I’m going that
way,” Melody said. “I could pick it up for you.”

Arturo shook his head. “It weighs at least 50
pounds. There’s no guarantee there will be anybody there to help
you lift it.”

She stood up. “I’m sure they have a cart or
something.”

Grandmother shook her head. “You’ll still
need help getting it into your car. Why doesn’t George just go with
you?”

It was a reasonable question. One that should
have been easy to answer. But how could she tell her grandmother
that her “husband” had slept on the couch last night because he was
unwilling or afraid or maybe a combination of both, to make love to
her.

She didn’t risk a look a George. The thought
of being in a car with her probably had him turning green around
the gills. After all, in such a small space, he might actually
brush up against her, actually have to touch her.

He didn’t want that. He couldn’t be much
clearer. And the last thing she wanted was to make him
uncomfortable.

Right?

“Well?” her grandmother prompted.

Melody looked at her new husband. Who was she
kidding? She had almost lost her waist, her thighs felt flabbier
every day, and if the pregnancy books told the truth, her breasts
were minutes away from starting to sag.

But he had liked what he saw. He’d been
turned on.

How cool was that?

Cool enough to make her warm in places that
hadn’t been warmed by anybody in a long time. Cool enough that
she’d walked around with a silly smile on her face for most of the
morning even though she’d been flatly rejected last night.

Cool enough that she was willing to try
again.

“Maybe Petersons Plumbing could deliver it?”
George said, sounding hopeful.