It Happened One Night (26 page)

She heard the low sound in his throat—so male and satisfied—and his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body against
his. Her palms burned to touch him skin to skin. She was a teenager again, so hot she was melting, all liquid and instinct
and need. Her lips followed his when he pulled back, and she thought,
I’ll have him right here. Again.
If she was going to lose him, she would at least lose him with one last set of blazing memories to warm her when he was gone.
She pulled on his jacket despite the freezing cold.

But he broke the connection. His breath went up in plumes. “No. Not here. And not like this.”

She forced her breathing to even out, her heart to slow. “You’re right.” She gathered her thoughts, seeing just how close
to going over the edge she’d been. “You’re right. Sex won’t give us any answers.”

The corner of his lip tipped up. “Maybe not. But the questions will be fun.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t
want you to think we’re making love on a whim again. When it happens I want you to be there for it. Before, during, and after.
Years
after. It has to be a decision you make, something you won’t be able to deny later on. God help me, Lana. I couldn’t go through
that again.”

She stepped away from him, got her bearings. As she looked down—to make some distance between them if only for a moment—the
curve of her belly was there, round as the curve of the overhead sky. It came as a surprise to remember reality. She put a
hand on the crest of the half-sphere, felt the warmth coming from her own skin.

She looked up at him, the question on her lips far too complicated to speak.

“I know,” he said.

And then both his hands were on her body, the swell of the baby within her. And her heart couldn’t take it. Tears welled up
in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “Everything that you are and everything that is you. Do you understand?”

She placed her hands on top of his, marveling. And then she knew the truth: She loved him—she was in love with him—and had
been for quite some time.

“Let me take you home,” he said gently.

“All right,” she said.

Lana was quiet in the car on the way home, her face turned toward the window. Eli wished he knew what she was thinking. Row
houses breezed by with their cheerfully lit porches decorated with pumpkins and bales of hay, and Eli silently willed her
to reach over and take his hand, to assure him he’d done the right thing. But she didn’t.

He pulled up to the curb at her apartment and cut the engine. He watched her take off her seat belt, moving it around the
bump of her belly; he clicked his off as well.

“Eli…,” she said, his name spoken so softly it was mere air passing over her lips. When he looked at her, the shine of her
eyes lit by streetlamps, the gleam of her inner, lower lip, he should have felt some tenderness toward her—the urge to protect
her at all costs, even if it meant protecting her from
him
. But that’s not what he felt. Desire, dark and ravenous, thickened in his blood.

“Can I kiss you again?” He touched her cheekbone, so soft, and her fingers curled around his.

She was silent.

“If you want me to, you’ll have to say it. Tell me.”

He saw hesitation flash across her face, but then she leaned forward and kissed him. His heart was lifted high. How long had
he waited for this, for her? Everything that he’d been looking for was here. Heat, passion, desire. He didn’t want to rush
her—he needed to hold back. And yet there was nothing more in the world he wanted at that moment than to drag her against
him and push his hands inside her clothes.

She pulled away. Her eyes were glittery as the ocean under a full moon. “Are you going to… to come inside?”

He had to close his eyes a moment to take in the full impact of her words. For a moment he couldn’t answer. He leaned back
in his seat, slid his hand away from her body. Before them the street was empty and quiet. A breeze had picked up, and the
moving branches made tangled shadows dance wildly on the asphalt. He willed his heart to slow, his breathing to even out.
“No,” he said. “No, I’m not.”

She seemed surprised, but he wouldn’t let it get to him. When they made love again, he didn’t want it to be because
he
wanted to, like it was his decision and not hers. His body would hate him tonight. But he had to turn her down.

Finally, she reached for the door handle. How many times had they gone home together, led one another through each other’s
front doors, made themselves at home? The next time Eli went into her house, it would be different. It wouldn’t be to watch
a movie or share a bowl of pasta. It would be to take her to bed.

Cool air came in through the car door when she opened it. He waited for her to say good night. But she didn’t. She only looked
at him for a moment, her face unreadable. It wasn’t until she was safely inside that he pulled away.

October 12

On her day off Karin sat on the couch with her foot propped up on the coffee table so she could blow on her toenail polish.
It had been years since she’d painted her nails. And even though no one would see them since it was October, it pleased her
that the small nubs of her toenails were the glossy purple of eggplant.

“Karin?”

Gene called her from the next room. She couldn’t see him, but she knew just where he was, slumped over an array of bills on
the kitchen table. How many times had she told him that if he had something to say to her, he should walk over to her and
say it, instead of shouting through the wall? Or worse, waiting for her to be the one to get up? She shook her head, laughing
to herself. Her husband had never been trainable.

She’d started to compose her answer—she was going to tell him that her toenails were too wet for walking—when suddenly he
stood in the doorway, a piece of paper dangling from his hand.

“Care to explain
this
?” His voice barely hid his fury. He didn’t hand her the paper, but winged it in her general direction, so it sliced the air
before veering to land on the couch.

She reached far to get it. It was her credit card statement, and Gene had marked the third line down with a yellow highlighter.
Calvert’s motel.

“This was what I was talking about when I told you—”

“Stop.” He held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He paced the room, and when he got to the other side, he kicked an
end table so hard that it fell, knocking over their lamp.

She stood, no longer caring about her wet nails. “Gene—what on earth?”

“What an
idiot
I am. They told me somebody saw you with him at some hot-dog place. But you know what I thought? It must have been someone
else. Couldn’t have been
my
wife. Not
mine
.”

“Gene—”

“And you don’t even have the brains to pay in cash?”

“No! Gene, you don’t understand. I—”

“Or are you going to tell me you were doing it for us? That you were just trying to get pregnant by some kind of twisted plan
B?”

Karin cried out. That was the last straw. She picked up a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him with one hand. He caught
it hard against his chest. For a second, it shut him up.

“How dare you insinuate that I’m
cheating
on you. Gene—I would never cheat on you. I swore it when we got married and it’s still true now.”

His eyes were wide and his breath was ragged. He spiked the pillow on the floor. “How stupid do you think I am? Karin—a bunch
of the guys told me you’ve been hanging around with Andy Gervais. That you went on a date! And here I am holding the bill
for a motel room that you paid for with
our
credit card! How exactly did you plan to explain that?”

Karin closed her eyes and fought to stay calm. Never in her life had she seen her husband so furious. But the fact that he
was mad was the least of her worries. The big problem—the real problem—was that the man who was supposed to trust her perfectly
and to the end of time, the man she’d sworn herself to, was telling her that he had no faith in her. It was a blow to her
ego and her heart.

She put down the credit card bill and took a few slow steps toward him. When she looked up, she held his gaze with everything
she had in her. “When I swore to be loyal and faithful to you, I meant it. If you really and truly think that I could—that
I would ever—give myself to a man other than my husband, then this whole marriage has been nothing but a sham.”

For a moment he held firm, the fury still thrashing in his eyes. But then she saw the slow, terrible crumbling of his anger,
his strong frame wilting, and sheer sadness and regret in his eyes. “Karin…”

She didn’t say anything. Her heart went out to him. This wasn’t about cheating. The accusation was just a symptom of bigger
things on his mind. She took him in her arms, felt the weight of his body as he leaned his shoulders against her, curling
around her in a hug. His breath came more quickly once again, rage giving way to silent trembling.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I was losing you,” he said.

“Shh,” she said. “I know.”

“You must hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You must think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re my idiot,” she said.

He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. “Everyone told me you were seeing him. And you’ve been acting so strange.
I had no other explanation.”

Karin stepped away, ran a hand through her hair. “Actually, I
was
seeing him. But it’s not what you think. He was helping me. And I didn’t know how I could tell you without making you mad.”

He sat down on the couch and she settled beside him. “What’s going on?”

Karin pulled a pillow onto her lap and told him the story—about wanting to get Calvert out of town, about asking Andy for
help. And she explained that the money she’d previously admitted to loaning to Calvert was in the form of a motel room. When
she was done Gene shook his head.

“I don’t understand this. You tell me everything.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing for me and for Lana; I wanted him gone. And I didn’t tell you about talking
to Andy because I worried that you’d think I was overreacting and you’d tell me not to do it. In hindsight, I realize you
would have been right.”

He sighed, and when he spoke a new tenderness had crept into his voice. He took her hand. “Let’s go away together. I don’t
care where. Let’s just go.”

“Now?” she asked, laughing.

“Yes. Right now.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I… I have to be here for Lana.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

“I can’t just leave my sister when she’s pregnant.”

“It’s
Lana’s
pregnancy. Not yours. Lana can handle it on her own. She doesn’t need you.”

Karin’s skin prickled. “But… she’s my sister. And she does need me. You just don’t understand.”

“I understand that you’re looking out for her. But you’ve got to give her some room. And besides, what’s more important? Lana’s
pregnancy or our marriage? Because that’s what’s on the line.”

Karin squeezed his fingers. “I swore I’d love you forever on the day we married. And you know I’ll never go back on my word.”

“Then come away with me. Please, Karin. I’m worried about us.”

For a few moments, she thought about it. But how could she leave now? She wanted to be there for her sister; Lana had never
needed her support more. “I love you. I want us to work this out.”

“So do I. That’s why I’m asking you to go away with me.”

Karin nodded. “I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re not saying yes either.”

“I’m just saying that I need a little more time. I have to think.”

Gene stood. “Do that. And do it quickly.” She watched him walk to the doorway and pause. “I can’t save this marriage alone,”
he said. Then he left.

She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Gene was right. Something was wrong and going more wrong by the day.
And yet she loved him as much now as on the day she said
I do
. And she knew—certain as the sunrise—that he loved her too. But something was off, a gear slowly falling out of alignment.
She could pinpoint the night it all started, the exciting and life-changing night they decided yes, they were ready for a
child.

I can’t save this marriage alone
… Karin closed her eyes. One of them had to save their relationship, but Karin was the one who could do it. Not Gene. There
was only one way.

October 13

Mrs. Montaigne was the first customer of the day at the Wildflower Barn, smiling her big droopy smile and shuffling her way
inside.

“Morning, Mrs. M.,” Lana said.

“
Bonjour
, dear,” Mrs. Montaigne said. She walked with all the physical dignity of a duchess gliding into a ball, but her skirt was
stuck in her stockings on one side. “I just dropped by to pick up a book about carving pumpkins for my granddaughter.”

Lana pointed her in the right direction, but Mrs. Montaigne didn’t head toward the books. Instead she walked right up to Lana
and put her hands on her belly with the same kind of ease with which she might have picked up merchandise off a shelf.

“Soccer ball,” Mrs. Montaigne muttered. “A girl.”

Lana laughed, and she felt like they were sharing an inside joke—all three of them.

“You’re over halfway through,” Mrs. Montaigne said. “Are you starting to get excited? Have you pointed the finger at the father
yet?”

“It was an immaculate conception,” Lana said, taking Mrs. Montaigne’s arm to hurry her walk toward the jack-o’-lantern books.

“You mean…?” Mrs. Montaigne pointed toward the ceiling, her eyebrows raised. “Well, at least you know you’ll get good child
support.”

“Funny,” said Lana.

Four days had passed since she last saw Eli, since he’d kissed her. Every night, he called her to wish her good night. This
was not unusual. Sometimes they would go for weeks where they would talk to each other every day. Other times they wouldn’t
see each other for months, and then Eli would return from a trip and everything would pick up exactly where it had left off.