The Manning Brides (28 page)

He’d worked harder these past two weeks at controlling it, for fear she’d accuse him of using her. Maybe on some deep, psychological level he feared it himself. So he was rationing himself. They’d make love once a week—that was all.

Maybe twice, he amended; no need to be stingy. No need to raise Leah’s concern should she notice. Yes, twice a week made more sense. Wednesdays and Saturdays. Maybe Monday and Thursdays and either Saturday or Sunday. No, that was three.

Oh, what the heck, three times a week wouldn’t be too much. Would it?

He smiled to himself as she nestled her head against his chest. He hadn’t slept yet, and it would soon be morning. Close to the time the twins and Kelsey would be waking up.

He didn’t care how little sleep he got; tonight had been worth every second of lost sleep. When he’d last looked at the clock, it had been past four. Leah had retrieved her chicken leg and brought it to bed, claiming she was hungry. Who wouldn’t be after what they’d just done?

She couldn’t let her hunger go unattended, she’d said, attacking the leg. A college professor—even one on sabbatical—couldn’t live on love alone. He smiled at the memory.

His book was finished. After two long years, he finally had the story completely worked out. There’d been a sense of fulfillment, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride as he printed out the last chapter. He’d read it over during the next week, do what editing he could at this stage and then mail it off to New York. He’d queried a reputable agent, who’d expressed interest in seeing it. Then the waiting would begin.

Paul was beginning to feel a cautious optimism about life. He was happy. Not
almost
happy. Just plain happy. Once he realized that, he wondered if he should be feeling that way. No, he decided, stopping that train of thought before it could gather speed. He wasn’t going to censure himself. He wasn’t going to examine his joy under a microscope and punish himself for feeling alive.

He had loved Diane. Loved her now. She’d been his first real love, his first wife, the mother of his children. But she was in the past. She’d always be a part of him. But she was gone.

Then he’d found Leah. She was his heart now. His soul. His joy.

After the mistakes he’d made during the first few weeks of their marriage, he’d done everything he could to make it up to her, to show her how much he cared. In his own way, on a limited budget, with limited time, he’d been courting her.

Leah was the one who’d brought happiness back to his life. He could laugh again. The grief that had weighed him down for so many months had receded into the background. It no longer dominated his very existence. He still loved Diane and mourned her, but there were other emotions in his life now. Other diversions. He’d been freed from the stranglehold of his grief. His senses were fine-tuned. More poignant. More intense than before.

It was as if he’d woken up one morning and found himself alive after crawling into a grave.

When had it happened? Paul didn’t know, but he was sure it had started when Leah decided to move in with him and the children. His whole world had taken a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for the better that day.

They’d had their problems, but then all couples did. Leah was trying to make their marriage work, too. Slowly, as he gained her trust, she was lowering the walls she’d raised. He was winning her confidence bit by bit.

Leah wasn’t Diane. She was more sensitive. Less open. A little more guarded, but he was learning. He was learning.

His eyes drifted shut. He was ready to sleep.

He dreamed of her that night.

Diane.

He’d fallen into a deep, contented sleep, and woke with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling of deep loss and sorrow, of regret.

Try as he might, Paul couldn’t remember the details of the dream, only that it had been about Diane. He sat up in bed and held his head between his hands, feeling as though he had a terrible hangover.

Why did he have this dream
now?
It made no sense. He’d set everything in order, made his resolutions, chosen life. Chosen love.

Leah was awake. He could hear her in the kitchen with the children. He staggered out of bed and threw on yesterday’s clothes.

Kelsey was sitting in her high chair waving a spoon, while the boys were stationed in front of the television set, watching Saturday-morning cartoons. Leah stood by the kitchen sink, sipping from a cup of coffee. All around him were the signs of ordinary life. Everyday, ordinary,
wonderful
life.

“Morning,” he said. “You should’ve woken me.”

Leah didn’t answer.

“Leah?” He reached for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

She kept her back to him.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and set her cup aside before walking down the hallway to the bedroom.

He took a minute to drink some coffee, unclog his mind, before he followed her. She was sitting on the end of the bed, looking lost and small and vulnerable.

He sat next to her, his stomach twisted in tight knots, dread filling his mouth. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Leah, don’t play games with me,” he said sharply. “Obviously something’s upset you. Tell me what it is.”

She was holding a tissue in her hand and had wound it around her index finger several times. “You…were asleep.”

“The dream.” It came to him with sudden clarity. “Did I call you Diane?”

Leah nodded.

“I…I had a dream. I don’t know why, I just did. That’s the thing about dreams—you don’t control them. She was in it, which is about all I remember.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Leah, but I swear to you that I didn’t intentionally call you by her name.”

“I know that.”

“All I can do is ask you to forgive me.”

“It isn’t you who needs to be forgiven.”

Paul closed his eyes, weary to the bone. “What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

“I can’t kid myself any longer, Paul.”

“Kid yourself?”

“Diane was my sister, I loved her…she was my best friend from the time we were children. Even though she was younger, she was better than me in every area except grades. She was bright and pretty and fun. I was dull and plain and boring.”

“Leah!”

“No, let me finish. Please, let me finish while I have the courage. I never competed with her, never allowed myself to be put in that position, because I knew, I always
knew,
I’d be the loser. The problem isn’t you, Paul, it’s me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve discovered I’m greedy and jealous and I hate myself for it. I hate thinking the things I do. I hate feeling sick with envy because you love Diane. I feel guilty and miserable and I can’t go on like this.”

“Leah, Diane’s gone. I’ve let her go—released her. She’s my past. You’re my present, my future.”

“I wish it was that simple,” she said with a sob.

“You don’t need to compete with her.”

Leah turned to look at him, her gaze unflinching. “Do you love her?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, but I love you, too.”

“I need some time…to think, sort out my feelings. I’m sorry….”

“Time?” He went cold with fear. She was going to leave him. His heart was in turmoil, his head spinning. Could he have found happiness only to lose it again?

“I…can’t sleep with you anymore, Paul. You want me, you desire me, but it’s Diane you love. It’s Diane you call for in the middle of night. Not me. For the first time in my life, I’m not willing to take second place to my sister. For once, just this once, I want something just for me. I want to be loved for
me.
”

She started to cry then, and Paul knew that nothing he could say would comfort her.

P
aul drove around for several hours, trying to clear his head. A light rain had begun and the skies were gray, which only depressed him more. He parked his car when he passed the small apartment complex his brother Jason owned. He sat there, wondering if he should talk to his younger brother.

He never discussed his problems with anyone, not even family. Generally he preferred to work things out by himself, without the counsel of relatives or friends.

But Jason had said something recently that had struck a chord with Paul. His brother had said it was time Paul realized he wasn’t any better than the rest of them—that he should quit being so arrogant.

His brother’s assessment had taken Paul by surprise. Jason and Rich viewed him as pompous! He’d thought he was just being strong.

Not dragging out his troubles for others to analyze wasn’t a matter of pride, Paul had reasoned. More a question of habit. He was the oldest in a family of five. The others looked up to him. He was their role model. He could almost hear his parents’ words, often repeated, reminding him how important it was to be a good example to the others.

He’d gotten so accustomed to keeping his worries to himself that he wasn’t sure he knew
how
to ask for help. Or even if he should.

After several minutes, Paul climbed out of the car and ran toward Jason’s apartment. He’d assumed Jason had made a mistake when he’d recently bought the eight-unit complex. As far as he was concerned, renters were nothing but trouble. But his brother didn’t seem to be having much of a problem. He managed the building himself, made sure he got the right tenants, then sat back and collected the rent money every month.

Jason answered the door, wearing a football jersey and a baseball cap. He’d been a sports fanatic since they were kids. He’d been on the varsity cross-country, track and swim teams in high school, and he’d continued with cross-country in college.

These days all Jason played was softball, and the season had ended a couple of weeks earlier. But he still loved to watch any kind of sport.

“Paul!” He sounded surprised to see him.

“Morning.”

“It’s afternoon.”

Paul checked his watch, shocked to see that his brother was right. “So it is.”

“Come on in out of the rain. Notre Dame’s about to kick off.” He motioned toward his sofa, where a bag of potato chips had spilled across the coffee table and a can of soda was sitting on the morning paper.

Paul had only been to Jason’s home once before, shortly after his brother had bought the building. A look around told him Jason wasn’t much of a housekeeper. Newspapers, at least a week’s worth, were carelessly scattered across the beige carpet. A partial load of laundry, towels it looked like, was heaped on the recliner. Several glasses, plates and eating utensils littered the living room.

Jason plopped himself down in front of the television. “Make yourself at home.”

Paul sat on the sofa beside him and for a while pretended to pay attention to the game.

“You want something to eat?”

“No, thanks,” Paul said. He reached for a potato chip and munched on it before he realized what he was doing.

“So things aren’t working out between you and Leah?” Jason asked in that easygoing manner of his.

“How’d you know?” He hated the fact that his younger brother could read him so well. Paul had always thought of himself as aloof, adept at hiding his emotions. Apparently he wasn’t as good at it as he’d assumed.

“You got the look, big brother,” Jason said, grinning.

“The look?” Paul frowned.

“Yeah, the look of guilt. What’d you do this time?”

“Why are you so sure it was me?” Paul muttered.

“’Cause it usually is the guy,” Jason said without taking his eyes off the television screen.

“For not being married, you certainly seem to be an expert on this.” Paul almost wished he’d gone to Rich, instead. He knew Leah had gone shopping with Jamie earlier in the week and he was delighted the two of them had become friends. If he was going to spill his guts, Rich was, for a number of reasons, the more logical choice, yet it was Jason he’d turned to.

“You’re right, you know. I
am
guilty.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Paul nodded and rubbed his palms together as he gathered his thoughts.

Jason reached for the remote and turned off the TV. “You want a drink? Soda? Beer? Coffee?”

With so many other things on his mind, Paul found making even a simple decision almost impossible. “Coffee, I guess.” He followed his brother into the kitchen and marveled that there were any clean dishes left in the house. Dirty pots and pans lined the sink and counter. Ah, the joys of the bachelor life.

Jason opened the dishwasher and pulled out a mug. He examined it before filling it with tap water. Then he opened the microwave, removed a pair of socks and set the mug inside.

While the water was heating, Paul paced the small kitchen. “I had a dream last night…about Diane.” He paused, half expecting Jason to comment. When his brother didn’t, he continued. “I don’t remember anything about the dream—only that she was in it.”

“Has this happened before?”

“Not that I recall.” Paul hardly ever remembered his dreams. “I don’t understand it. If Diane was going to haunt my sleep, why now? Why would she come back just when I’ve made my peace with her death? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Jason apparently didn’t have any answers for him, either.

“I’ve remarried and after almost a year, I can finally say I’m happy. Leah and I are…were,” he amended sadly, “working everything out. I’ve been doing my best to be a good husband, to make up for the things I didn’t do earlier. Now
this.
”

“Don’t go hitting yourself over the head because of a dream.”

“It was more than that,” Paul admitted sheepishly. “Last night, Leah and I—” he hesitated “—I don’t know how to explain it. It was as though for the first time all the barriers were down. I’d finished my novel and—”

“Congratulations!” Jason said.

Paul smiled weakly. “Thanks.” He wasn’t as excited as he had been. The book, or at least the first draft, was finished, but the exhilaration was gone. Nothing was more important to him than his relationship with his wife.

“Leah and I made love and…I don’t know how to describe it, Jase, it was so…beautiful. I held her in my arms and I realized how much my life had changed since I married her.

“I feel so whole again. I loved Diane and I always will, but she’s gone and I’m alive, and for the first time since I buried her, I’m not sorry to be.”

“You’ve come a long way, Paul.”

Paul shook his head. “When I went to sleep I was at peace with myself and my world, and then I had that dream….”

“Did it occur to you that maybe Diane was saying goodbye to you?” Jason asked softly.

“Saying goodbye to me? I don’t understand.”

“You just finished telling me you’d accepted her death.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps your subconscious allowed her the opportunity to release you, too. After Kelsey was born—before Diane died—there wasn’t much of a chance for the two of you to talk, was there?”

“No. It happened so fast. Within days she was gone.”

“I know.” Jason’s eyes were somber.

“I wish I remembered more of the dream,” Paul said after a moment’s silence. “There’s a glimmer, but…Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“Does it really matter?”

Paul pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. The burden of his guilt had never felt heavier. “There’s more. I don’t know how it happened, but apparently at some point during the night I called Leah
Diane.
”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Jason said. “Surely Leah understands that.”

“I don’t know what she understands. She was crying and, to be truthful, she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. She kept saying she wouldn’t compete with Diane anymore, and that she’s moving out of our bedroom because I loved Diane. I’m not supposed to have loved her?” he demanded. “She was my wife!”

“Give Leah time. She’s obviously upset, and when you think about it, you can’t really blame her.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m upset, too,” Paul said heatedly. “Where does this leave me? I’m supposed to tell Leah I don’t love Diane anymore?”

“She wouldn’t believe you even if you did.”

“I know,” Paul admitted, slumping forward in his chair. “I remember the day I married Diane. It’s clear as anything, but it seems like a hundred years ago now. I recall thinking I was going to love this woman all my life. And the amazing part is, I
will
always love her. I can’t stop loving her. But I don’t understand how it’s possible to love two women so intensely.”

“You love Leah, too, then?”

Paul nodded. “I didn’t go into this marriage with the same rosy vision I did when I married Diane. It made sense to marry Leah. It was a practical decision. I have to admit I was attracted to her, though. I admired and respected her, and she didn’t object. But I didn’t truly love her when we got married, not the way I loved Diane.”

“But now you do. That means something, doesn’t it?”

“Apparently not a lot,” he answered vehemently. Then he sighed. “I didn’t know I could love both of them so much. I struggled with that, thinking I was cheating one or the other.” It was a moment of self-realization for Paul; talking to his brother like this was helping him clarify his feelings.

Jason didn’t say much, but he sat down across from him.

“Leah and I didn’t start our physical relationship right away,” Paul continued, a bit chagrined to be discussing his sex life with his unmarried brother. “Neither of us was ready for it.”

“At least you were wise enough to recognize that. Not everyone would have.”

“For a while I felt like I was being unfaithful to Diane, to Diane’s memory, by loving Leah. But try as I might, I couldn’t make myself
not
love her.”

“She’s your wife,” he said simply. “You should love her.”

In his heart Paul knew Leah was as miserable as he was. He’d tried to talk to her that morning, tried to reason with her, but she was beyond listening. Not knowing what else to say or do, Paul had slipped out of the house.

He’d felt numb as he drove around. Numbness frightened him. For the first few days after Diane’s death he’d experienced the same lack of emotion. Gradually, a red-hot pain had overtaken him, and the grief had dominated his every waking moment. The agony had been so consuming that his mind had blotted out whole weeks. He’d functioned, gone to work, taken care of his children, lived day to day, but he didn’t remember much of what had happened.

It had all started with a numbness, the same numbness he’d felt that morning when Leah told him he’d called her by her sister’s name.

“What are you going to do?” Jason asked him.

Paul had to pull his thoughts together, mull over his dilemma. “I don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “Try to rebuild her trust. I’ll love her without making any demands on her, give her the space and time she needs.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

Paul smiled. He never did get the cup of coffee his brother had promised him—not that it seemed very palatable. It didn’t matter, though. He was finished—or rather he’d found a place to start.

“How’d you get to be so smart?” he asked Jason.

His brother grinned. “Guess it just runs in the family.”

Eager now to go home to Leah, Paul left his brother’s apartment. He was ready to talk to her, to explain everything he’d realized when he was talking to Jason.

More than anything, he longed to take her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much he wanted her.

He parked in the driveway and nearly leapt out of the car. He dashed to the front door, throwing it open.

“Leah.” Her name was on his lips even before he entered the house.

No response. He hurried into the kitchen to find Kelsey standing up, holding on to the seat of a chair. She gave him a four-toothed smile and thrashed her free arm about with excitement.

A neighbor girl, Angie somebody, was slicing a banana at the counter.

“Oh, hi,” she said, smiling broadly.

“Where’s Leah?”

“She left about an hour ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask. She gave me the phone number to…” She reached for a slip of paper. “Here it is, Jamie and Rich’s.”

“Yes?” Paul prompted.

“She wasn’t sure when you’d be back, so she said I should call Jamie if you weren’t here by dinnertime. Apparently Jamie was going to come over and pick up the kids.”

Paul’s heart was pounding. “Did she tell you when she’s coming back?”

Angie shook her head. “I don’t think it’s anytime soon. She must’ve been going on a trip or something because she took a suitcase with her.”