Forgotten Honeymoon (4 page)

If only that were true
. Kelly felt as
if she didn’t know who she was any more. She was in the middle of a
nightmare.

If only it were a mistake.

But both pregnancy tests couldn’t be
wrong.

She was pregnant.

But if Nigel wasn’t the father, who was?
Nothing made sense.

But she couldn’t upset her mother with her
worries.

Her mother took her arm. “I know you hate
going to these things, but it’s better when you’re the guest of
honor. Trust me.”

Somehow Kelly managed to get upstairs to her
room. She took a shower with the water as hot as she could stand
it, and got dressed in the pale blue sweater dress her mother had
bought for her last birthday.

“Remember to put some make-up on,” her mother
called through the door. “Cousin Estelle will be taking
pictures.”

I can do this
, Kelly told herself as
she brushed her hair and made up her eyes. She twisted her hair up
into an untidy bun on top of her head. After the other things she’d
gone through in the past two days, a bridal shower was nothing. She
should be able to sit and smile for two hours.

Because if she didn’t, she’d have to give a
reasonable excuse, and she didn’t have a reasonable excuse.

Her father was sitting in the living room
when she and her mother came downstairs. Margaret turned to Frank,
“Are you sure you’ll be all right here by yourself? You don’t want
to come with us?”

Frank snorted. “Why would I want to go to a
shower and listen to a roomful of women giggle over toasters and
china? Besides, Lars is coming over to watch the baseball game with
me. I’ll be fine.”

Lars?
Her father sounded as if they
were friends again. Kelly was glad they’d resolved their
differences, but she didn’t want to run into Lars tonight.

Not after Nigel’s cracks about his being the
baby’s father. It felt like everyone except her thought he was a
likely candidate. She was afraid she’d be too embarrassed to look
him in the eye.

So you’ve been cheating on me all this time.
Let me guess -- It’s Henderson. Tell me, is bedding the boss’
daughter one of his perks, or is that why he got promoted?

She hadn’t realized before today that Nigel
was jealous of her friendship with Lars. He didn’t think men and
women could be friends without sex becoming an issue.

As if on cue, Lars knocked and opened the
front door. He had taken off his suit jacket, but still wore the
dress shirt and tie. Calm, steady, safe Lars. She refused to think
of Nigel’s petty accusations.

“Anyone home?” Lars called, then saw Kelly
and her mother. His face froze.

Kelly hurried to him and took his large hand
in hers. “Let’s go,” she begged, inwardly alarmed at how high her
voice sounded. “You wanted to talk, so let’s go. Right now.” She
felt as if the foundations of her life were crumbling and she
needed something strong to bolster her. She could trust Lars.

Margaret was surprised. “Honey, you can’t go
out with Lars. You’ve got the bridal shower.”

Lars tightened his grip on her hand. His eyes
glittered as they looked her over from head to toe, as if seeing
her for the first time. Which was silly. He’d seen her all dressed
up before. “You look very nice,” he murmured huskily.

He’d always liked blue, she thought,
nervously twisting her pearl necklace, then wondered where that
piece of information came from. He must have told her once before.
“Thank you,” she said softly. Right now she appreciated every
compliment.

“We do need to talk,” he said quietly,
watching her closely. “Maybe after the shower, we could grab a bite
--”

“No,” she said. “I’m not going to the shower.
I can’t.”

Margaret frowned at Kelly. “I don’t know
what’s gotten into you.”

A baby
, Kelly thought hysterically.
A baby’s gotten into me and I don’t know how
.

“Frank?” her mother called. “Come tell your
daughter that she has to go the bridal shower and she can talk to
Lars later.”

Frank came into the front foyer. He looked at
Lars and nodded, as if sending a silent message. “No, I think she
should talk to Lars and skip the shower.”

Margaret stared at them as if they had all
gone crazy. “I can’t believe it. What am I going to tell Cousin
Estelle?”

#

Lars drove to his favorite Indian restaurant.
Kelly was quiet, staring out the window. Lars kept sneaking glances
at her, glad to be near her again.

Kelly was beautiful, with her thick brown
hair, the curve of her shoulder, the little dimple by her lips when
she smiled. He liked the way her dress softly molded itself to her
slim figure. He’d loved her for so long, he couldn’t imagine being
attracted to anyone else.

It was torture to watch her, remembering the
feel of her, the scent of her skin, the taste of her, and to know
that she remembered nothing.

In her mind, he was not her husband. He was
just one of her father’s employees; a family friend. He was only
seven years older than she, but she often treated him as if he were
as old as her father.

Until those few days in March.

He’d known she was upset. She was mad at
Nigel and said they’d broken off the engagement. “Dance with me,”
she’d said. Then later that evening, “Kiss me.” And finally, “Marry
me.”

He’d known he was taking advantage of her
vulnerability, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. He’d convinced
himself that she finally saw him as the man who truly loved
her.

He was a fool.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he asked
her if she wanted to go inside or wait in the car.

“I’ll come inside. Maybe it will give me some
ideas.”

He walked around to her side of the car and
opened her door. She stepped out. How lovely she was tonight in her
dress and high heels. Her skin glowed with health and a few wisps
of her hair had fallen down around her ears. His body ached with
desire. It was all he could do to keep from leaning over and
kissing her sweet mouth. If he kissed her, would she remember, or
would she pull away, offended and alarmed?

She walked with him into the restaurant and
stood in the entry way, admiring the brightly colored beaded wall
hangings. “Henderson,” he told the cashier, and in a few minutes,
there were several plastic sacks filled with containers for them to
carry out.

Kelly looked at the stack of Styrofoam
containers and smiled. “That’s a lot of food.”

“These are mine. Yours are still in the
kitchen.”

The cashier said, “Pardon me? Is your order
not complete?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lars reassured, regretting
his poor attempt at humor.

“I love your necklace,” Kelly said to the
cashier. “Does the elephant have a special meaning?”

“Yes, it represents good luck and
prosperity.”

“I could use an elephant,” Kelly said as they
returned to his car.

“We all could,” Lars agreed. He wasn’t
exactly sure how he was going to tell her that they were married,
but he could use all the good luck he could get.

They ended up at her studio, a converted
small three bedroom home that she’d bought a few years earlier.
She’d torn out the walls between the living room and the kitchen to
make one big workroom. One bedroom was filled with shelves for
inventory and works in progress. The second contained her electric
kilns. The third held her loom. Everything was simple and clean,
stripped down to the barest essentials. In the corner of the
workroom was a mattress where she sometimes slept.

They sat on the cool cement floor of her
workroom to eat. “You’ll get your pants dirty,” she exclaimed as he
sat down across from her.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. Kelly had
only one chair at her studio, the one she sat on when she worked at
her wheels. She rarely allowed company to visit, and he was honored
that she’d invited him inside.

“At least let me get you a pillow,” she said,
and walked to one of the back rooms. She returned with two huge
bright green square pillows.

He fingered the nubby texture. “Did you weave
these?”

She frowned. “Yes, but the customer who
special ordered them, decided she wanted a bluer green, so now I’m
stuck with them.”

Lars sat on his pillow. “You need to take
your money up front on special orders,” he said.

Kelly rolled her eyes and didn’t say
anything. She sat down as well, slid her feet out of her high
heeled pumps and wiggled her toes. She asked, “Why do women put
themselves through such torture?”

“Because you’ve got great legs and you want
to show them off?”

She looked at him, one eyebrow raised in
disbelief. “It’s all foolishness,” she said and rubbed her toes.
She sighed. “Ah, that feels good.”

He’d heard that sigh before, and his body
immediately tightened at the memory.

She saw him watching her. “You can take off
your shoes, too.”

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. The last thing
he wanted was to start removing clothes.

She reached over to loosen his tie. The touch
seemed to sear through him, making him shake. “Come on, Lars, relax
a little,” she urged and started to undo the top button of his
shirt. “Breathe.”

He’d given in to temptation once before, and
he had no intention of giving in again. He pushed her hand away and
shifted back, out of her reach. “I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, and rose to her
feet. “I’m going to get out of this dress and change into something
more comfortable.”

He had a sudden mental image of her wearing
nothing but his dress shirt, kneeling on the hotel bed. He wasn’t
sure how comfortable he’d be if she became more comfortable.

He stood up and walked to the large window of
what used to be the living room to stare outside at the street.
Cool it
, he told himself.
Remember she thinks of you as a
friend, not a lover.

But can’t I be both?
a voice in his
head asked.

No
, the calm side of him countered.
Don’t be selfish. You know what will happen if you expect more
than she can give. She loves Nigel, not you.

When Kelly came back, she was wearing a baggy
gray t-shirt with the word KPots across her chest and black knit
yoga pants that hugged her thighs and bared her ankles. She’d
pulled her hair back into a ponytail and washed her face free of
make-up. This is how he liked her best, he realized: completely
relaxed, natural. There was no pretense about Kelly, no games.
That’s why he loved her.

And why he knew she didn’t love him.

Now would be a good time to talk. “Kelly,” he
began in a serious tone, but she held up her hand.

“Not yet. I can tell you want to talk about
something dreadful. You’re using your CEO voice. Can’t it wait
until after we’ve eaten?”

He smiled. “Yes, of course.” He was
postponing the inevitable, but why not? This way, he could enjoy
the meal and her friendship before everything changed.

“Good, because I’m starving.”

She opened a box of Butter Chicken and
scooped it out onto a plate. On top of this she poured black
lentils and followed it with chickpea curry. She brought a dripping
bite to her mouth. “Wow, this is the best thing I’ve eaten in
days.”

He smiled. She dived into life as she dived
into her food. No holding back. He often wished he could be as
spontaneous and free as she.

She pointed to his plate with its neatly
separated foods. “You know it tastes better if you mix it all
up.”

“Food as collage?”

She laughed and for a few minutes they ate in
companionable silence. Then she reached across him to get another
piece of leavened flatbread. For an instant her arm brushed his
chest, and he fought the urge to grab and kiss her.

“Excuse me,” she said, and smiled, sitting
back on her heels. “I’m so glad you came with me tonight. I was
feeling low, and whenever you’re around, I feel better. Stronger.”
She chewed a bite of her Naan and swallowed, eying him
thoughtfully. “It must be your take-charge attitude. Somehow I know
that you’ll always be there for me.”

Except when he hurt her. “Kelly, I --”

She didn’t let him finish. “Today I was
thinking about the time you talked Dad into letting me drop out of
college. He was scared I’d end up working in a fast food place, but
you convinced him I was ready to open my own studio and sell my
pottery.” She waved her arm to showcase the large room filled with
her supplies. “You helped me do all this, and I’ve never thanked
you, so I’m doing it now.”

Knowing what he knew, it killed him to hear
her gratitude.

She said, “You and Brenda are my best
friends.”

Every word was like a slap in his face.
“Kelly, we need to talk.”

She nodded. “I know, but me first, okay?”

He sighed. What difference would a few more
minutes make? “Whatever you want, Kelly.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it
gently. “Thanks. I need to spill it all out before I lose my
courage.”

Courage?
Had she remembered
something?

“First I need to tell you about a car
accident I had two months ago.”

“Frank told me.”

“Good, so you know that it wasn’t serious,
but I lost a few weeks’ memory.”

“Yes.”

She seemed relieved not to have to give him
all the details. She clutched her hands together in her lap. “The
next thing I have to tell you is that I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant?
The word exploded like
fireworks in his mind. Was he the father? He’d never considered
that possibility. But he hadn’t used any protection. Neither one of
them had been prepared, and at the time, it hadn’t seemed
important.

Belatedly, he realized she was still talking.
“... I assumed it was Nigel’s of course, but I didn’t know because
I couldn’t remember sleeping with him.”