Secrets in the Marriage Bed (5 page)

Her eyes were huge. “What happens next?”

“I want to be married to you, Vicki.” Nothing subtle would work now. “Do you want to be married to me?”

The pause was minuscule. “Yes.” She took a deep breath.
“Yes.”

It wasn’t the avowal he’d been looking for. But it was better than her earlier statement that they were still separated. “Then giving up is not an option.” It had never been for him. And despite Vicki’s ambivalence, he didn’t think it had ever been for her, either. If it had, she would have taken his key when she’d kicked him out and refused to see him those times he’d come over or invited her to lunch. But she hadn’t.

“Caleb…” She put a hesitant hand on his upper arm. “Do you want…? We can try again.”

The vulnerability he could see shattered him. He knew that right now, he could ask for anything in bed and she’d try to provide it. But he didn’t want his wife giving in to him because she was laboring under a burden of guilt. He wanted them to bridge this distance in the bright light of day.

“All I want is for you to sleep in my arms.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Part of him—the part that had been deprived for years—whispered that he should take this chance, that it might never come again, that this emotional woman in his arms would be gone when morning arrived, replaced by the cool, elegant lady he barely dared to touch.

Troubled eyes met his. “Caleb, I can…”

“Hush.” He moved onto his back, pulling her against his chest. “Sleep. This is enough for tonight.” Despite the desperate voices urging him to take what she was trying to offer and not look back, he knew he spoke the truth. His wife was used to keeping her emotions well under control. And yet she’d come to him tonight.

Finally, she’d come to him.

Getting the bread out of the pantry, she was struck by the appearance of her hands—the oval nails polished a pale nude color, the tasteful wedding band that was her only jewelry. It seemed to her that she was exactly like her hand—well polished, boring and without character. Not a woman who did exciting things like surprise her husband in the shower.

The scent of Caleb’s woodsy aftershave warned her that he’d entered the kitchen. Without thinking about it, she turned and blurted, “Am I boring, Caleb?”

His eyes widened. “You might be a lot of things, honey, but boring isn’t one of them.”

“Tell me one thing I’ve done that’s been out of the ordinary.” She put the bread on the counter and frowned. “One thing I’ve done that you never expected me to do.”

“You asked me for a divorce.” He grabbed a couple of slices of bread and put them in the toaster. “Then you told me to go sleep in the guest bedroom—surprised the hell out of me and not in a good way.”

She breathed in the just-showered scent of him and wanted nothing more than to pull him down by that sedate navy tie and plant a shockingly raw good-morning kiss on his lips. Caleb had always looked good in a suit. “Hmm,” she said, staring at him as he reached up to get mugs from the upper cupboards. “Caleb?”

He put two mugs on the counter. “Yes?”

“Are we going to ignore last night?” She couldn’t bear to pretend anymore. It was as if once she’d ripped open this scar she had to keep pushing at it to see how much it hurt, to check if it had healed any.

He faced her, tall, strong and masculine to the core. When she thought he’d speak, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She melted into him, clutching at his waist to keep herself upright. Usually Caleb let her control their kisses, but today he was kissing the thoughts right out of her head.

When they came up for air, his eyes were filled with a thousand emotions. “What do you think?”

Barely able to breathe, she pointed to the toaster. “Your toast’s ready.”

For some reason, that made him smile. “I made you a piece, too.” He buttered the toast and put it to her lips. “You’re eating for two now, Mrs. Callaghan.”

The unbearably
Caleb
statement, care wrapped in action, made her smile. And that was how she sent her husband off to work. For the first time in a long while, they laughed as they kissed each other goodbye, looking forward to the night to come.

Her husband was a dynamo in the legal world, respected by colleagues and competitors alike. And what was she? A
finishing school
-educated woman of twenty-four. She kept up with Caleb by reading business journals voraciously so she could discuss things he was interested in. But how long would that sustain them? How long until it became clear to him that she had nothing original to contribute to their lives?

But her urge to do more wasn’t all about pleasing Caleb. It was about her. Caleb and the baby were her life, her everything. Was that healthy? Would she wake up one day to find her child grown and Caleb buried in work, leaving her alone and adrift? Would she become like her grandmother, convincing herself that jewels and parties could fill the void where her dreams and goals, her self-respect, should have resided?

And what if their marriage failed despite everything? She didn’t have a shred of doubt that Caleb would support her and their child, but she wanted to be able to take care of herself, wanted to be more than she was right now. It would have been one thing if she’d chosen to be a homemaker because it was right for her, but she hadn’t. She’d just drifted into it because it was what Caleb seemed to want.

It was time to make her own choices.

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself that study was a good idea, she couldn’t get past her need to
do
something. Another two or three years in academic limbo seemed like a life sentence after the years she’d already lost. But what could she do? What was she qualified for?

Nothing.

Even more frustrated than when she’d started, she put away the catalogues and spent the rest of the day pulling non-existent weeds from the back garden. The portable phone beside her rang mid-afternoon. It was her mother.

“Did you get my card? I’ll be flying into Auckland sometime in the next couple of weeks. Coffee?” Danica asked in that voice that had acquired a slight Mediterranean accent over the years.

Vicki agreed, aware that it was more than likely Danica would forget to keep the date. Her mother’s haphazard visits were something Vicki had gotten used to. At least that was what she told herself. “Give me a call when you get in.”

Hanging up after a quick goodbye, she started pulling weeds with too much force, sending dirt flying everywhere. It took her ten minutes to calm down enough to realize she’d pulled out most of the dark purple and yellow pansies she loved. How did her mother always manage to agitate her so much?

Forcing herself to think through the furious buzz of emotion, Vicki apologized to the plants, replanted the ones that weren’t too bedraggled and began to reorganize a border of stones around the garden. After a while, the repetitive physical activity numbed her emotions enough that she felt marginally better, though she knew it was a delaying tactic against not only dealing with her future, but also her chaotic feelings toward Danica.

She was picking up a big stone to reposition it for the seventy-sixth time when Caleb walked around the side of the house. He’d taken the stone from her before she could say a word of welcome. “Where?” he asked, face grim.

She pointed to the right spot. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

He set down the stone and straightened. “I saw my
pregnant
wife threatening to kill herself hauling stones that didn’t need to be moved.” He was scowling, clearly not amused.

She rolled her eyes. “I was fine.” Then she grinned. “You’re home in time for dinner.”

“I was hoping you’d notice.” He rubbed a smudge of dirt off her nose. “Have you been rolling around in the mud again?”

Laughing, she took off a glove and pushed at him. “Change. Then come help me in the kitchen.” For a second, their camaraderie was like when they’d first married. He’d come home countless times to tease her that she looked like a laborer’s assistant with her broken nails and paint-splattered overalls. Then he’d lift her up in his arms and swing her around, both of them laughing with happiness simply because they were together.

Caleb’s grin faded as she stared at him. “What do you see?” he asked.

“Us. Before we lost each other.” The words came from somewhere deep in her soul where they’d been trapped for what seemed like forever. Under her hand, his heart beat strong and loud, but she wondered if it still beat for her as passionately as it once had.

“We’re not done yet,” he said. “Not by a long shot.” The stubborn set of his jaw was as familiar to her as her own face, and welcome beyond measure. “You have dirt in your hair.” He picked at the strands by her temple.

“I need to shower,” she whispered, her voice husky.

For a moment, she thought he heard what she was trying to say, heard the woman in her attempting to come out of hiding, but then he dropped his hand and the moment was gone. “I’ll let you clean up and meet you in the kitchen.”

She tried not to let her disappointment show. “Okay.”

“Yes, I’m listening.”

Her head jerked up at the tone of his voice. Gone was all the humor, sensuality, laughter. Tightly controlled, he sounded almost emotionless and there were only a few people who made him sound that way. “Your family? Lara?” she mouthed.

He gave a sharp nod. “How much?”

Vicki narrowed her eyes, in no doubt as to why Lara had called. It was the same reason why any of his family ever called. She was acquainted with all three members—Caleb had never hidden his roots. Before they’d married, he’d taken her to the run-down neighborhood where he’d grown up and introduced her to his family and friends.

She knew that Max was a sculptor and Caleb’s mother, Carmen, a poet. Unfortunately, neither had achieved professional success. To Victoria, Max and Carmen had always seemed sanctimonious in their assertions that they were sacrificing for their art. What they’d sacrificed was their children’s welfare. Caleb rarely talked about his growing-up years, but from what he had let slip, she’d guessed that he’d sometimes gone hungry.

Unlike Caleb, his sister, Lara, hadn’t left the family fold. A struggling singer with two kids by two different men, she’d never wavered from her belief that her parents’ way—poverty and suffering as the only path to creative genius—was the right way.

“What did she want?” Vicki asked when Caleb hung up the phone and came to stand beside her.

He sighed, staring blindly into space. “What she always wants. Money. Since I sold out to the capitalist regime, the least I can do is help her out now and then.” His tone was flat, as if the call had drained all emotion from him.

Vicki recognized the familiar refrain. She’d heard it enough times from Lara’s own mouth. Previously, Vicki had remained silent, reasoning that she had no business interfering with Caleb and his family. Now, seeing the pain revealed by her husband’s bowed head, she decided it was very much her business.

Turning slightly, she pushed at his chest until he looked at her. “Why do you let them treat you this way?” Instinct told her there was something fundamental she didn’t know. The political rhetoric the Callaghans spewed simply couldn’t explain the antipathy Vicki sometimes felt emanating from them toward Caleb. What wasn’t he telling her?

She knew she didn’t yet have the right to push for that information. They’d barely started talking about repairing the fissures in their marriage. Until those wounds had healed, she had to tread softly. But it didn’t mean she had to remain silent.

He shrugged. “They’re my family.”

“No,” she said. “They abandoned you when you dared to be different.” She knew he’d left home at sixteen and scraped by on his own, working multiple jobs while going to school. His parents had kicked him out when he’d dared argue with them about what he wanted from life. “They’ve never been there for you.”

A bleak look appeared in his eyes. “They’re all I’ve got.”

She shook her head, furious at them for always causing him such pain. “
We’re
your family, Caleb. Me and our baby.”

“But you might be divorcing me.” It wasn’t a challenge but a reminder of their precarious situation. Before he could blink it away, she glimpsed an incredible anguish that had nothing to do with Lara or his parents and everything to do with her.

A crushing knot formed in her heart. God, but the man was proud. Proud and stubborn. Not once in those two months of separation had he ever hinted at the depth of his pain at the way she’d asked him to leave. Then again, neither had she ever told him how badly he’d hurt her when he’d taken Miranda to his bed. They were both too good at keeping their emotional secrets.

But that, she thought with a new spurt of determination, was in the past. It was the future that was important—a future built on trust, shared burdens and hope. Maybe asking for a separation had been the only way she’d known to get him to pay attention to their marriage, to
her,
but they’d gone beyond that now.

This was it. Time for action. Despite her fear that she’d do the wrong thing and their truce would go bad all over again, she nonetheless shook her head. “No. I’m not. I told you I want to be married to you. You’re my husband, my family.
I don’t have anyone else, either.”

He hauled her into a tight hug, saying with his body what he couldn’t say in words. For so long, he’d spoken with his body but she hadn’t been listening, hadn’t known how to listen, but now she intended to hear every single whisper.

“It’s Lara’s kids I worry about. She can look after herself but what about them?”

Vicki had always been swayed by the same thought. “How about a trust fund? For education and anything else the kids might need. Your family doesn’t get to treat you like an open checkbook anymore.” It wasn’t the money that made her mad, but the way they acted as if it was Caleb’s duty to support them while putting up with their ingratitude.

She’d never been able to understand why her tough, powerful husband let them get away with it. She knew that taking care of Lara’s children wouldn’t even scratch at the surface of Caleb’s problems with his family, or tell her anything of the reasons behind the way they treated him. But it was a start.

Caleb was silent for a moment. “If we were the trustees, we could ensure the money was used how it was meant to be.”

Neither of them had to mention their fears that Lara might have succumbed to drugs. But, so far, she’d never harmed her kids, apparently being a devoted mother.

“Yes,” Vicki agreed, then decided to say something that had been bubbling up inside of her for quite some time. “Don’t you dare let them make you feel bad because you dreamed higher than they have the capacity to imagine. Be proud.” The Callaghans’ motivations made no difference to her. In her book, nothing could excuse the neglect and pain Caleb had suffered because of them.

His chin dropped to rest on top of her head. “They’ll always be in my life.”

“And I’ll never try to push them out. We both have relations we have to deal with though we’d rather not. But they have to learn to treat you with the proper respect.” She refused to back off on this. Too many times in their marriage, she’d stayed silent and it had torn them apart. However, that particular dam had broken forever when she’d walked into Caleb’s room and bared her soul. “Next time one of them calls, I’ll take it. This is the last chance they’ll ever have to hurt you.”

Caleb was astounded by the cold fury he could hear in her voice. Vicki had always been so gentle, so non-confrontational. But beyond his surprise was the glow of hope. She was right. He was holding his real family in his arms. Maybe their marriage was rocky but they’d made a promise to see it through. The lack of ambivalence in Vicki’s comments gave him back the sense of stability he’d lost the moment she’d demanded a divorce.

“I want to ask you something,” he said, reminded of it by his thoughts of the cool, non-combative woman he’d married. A woman in whom he’d seen embers of passion—embers that their marriage had stifled instead of nurtured.

“What?” Vibrant life in that single word.

A little of his guilt receded. “What did your grandmother tell you when she invited me to that dinner party where she introduced us?” Lately, he’d begun to wonder if Ada had lied to get Vicki to trust him enough to let him court her. How else could he explain her faith in him from the very start? Especially when his no-holds-barred personality must have been immediately obvious.

Laughing, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “She said she’d found the perfect man for me. He’d keep me in line because I’d need a strong hand to ensure I didn’t turn out like my mother. Oh, and he’d make sure I was taken care of.”

He winced, his theory in ruins. That was hardly likely to get a woman to trust a man. “Did she force you—”

“I fell for you about ten seconds after you started talking to me. She saw a man who’d use his strength to crush. I saw someone who’d use it to protect.” She smiled. “You had so much energy, so much heart that you made me feel truly alive for the first time. I couldn’t bear to return to the life I had before I met you.”

Despite his decision to be honest, Caleb couldn’t bring himself to ask the question that continued to haunt him. What about now? Did the woman she’d become trust him as that vulnerable girl had? Or had that love crumbled after years of being trapped in a marriage that made her desperately unhappy?

Instead of asking questions that might destroy him, he joked, “I’m glad because once I saw you, that was it.”

“Good.” Her laughter was a gift. After hugging him tightly once more, she pulled away. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving—our baby is a hungry little thing.”

“What does it feel like?” he asked, curious.

“The baby? I think I can feel her moving but it’s probably all in my mind. According to the baby books, it’s too early.”

“Her?” That quickly, their baby became real, a little person with hopes and dreams, and a heart that he could bruise with a careless word.

Vicki gave him a sheepish smile. “I just started thinking of it as a girl. Would you prefer a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied truthfully. “I only want it to be healthy.”

“Me, too.” Her face became solemn. “It’s scary thinking about a child who’s going to rely on me for everything.”

“On us.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and nudged her into a seat. “But yeah, it’s not like either of us has a good example to follow. Are these baby books for dads as well?” Books he understood—they taught you things. Maybe they could teach him how to be a good father, a concept that caused raw panic inside of him whenever he dared think about it. Like now.

Her smile was huge. “Yes. I’ll give you a good one.”

Sitting down, he nodded. “So,” he said, deciding that that was about as much baby talk as he could handle for one night, “you get any interesting phone calls today?” It was meant to be a lighthearted comment but her expression grew pensive.

“Mother confirmed her plans to visit.”

He paused, trying to catch the emotions passing over her face like storm clouds. “What else did she say?”

Vicki shrugged and made a face. “Nothing much—you know her. Do you want some more salad?”

He let her change the subject, having learned that she didn’t like discussing her mother. Danica contacted Vicki once or twice every year and inevitably left behind a mess. After her last visit, Vicki had locked herself in her study and sobbed as though her heart was broken. Although he’d tried to talk to her about it, she’d pretended nothing was wrong. It frustrated him but her emotional armor on this topic was so tough, he’d never made much of a dent in it.

Figuring they had bigger problems to solve, he didn’t press the issue this time. But part of him worried about exactly what it was that she was so scared to face…and what those buried truths were doing to her already-bruised psyche.