Almost Forever (31 page)

“I'm normal.” Andie had reached across her friend and scooped up the container of dip. “If you knew Clay like I know Clay, you wouldn't give two bits for his buns.”

“Try me. I'd
love
to know him like you know him. And you're not even
really
related to him, even though your mother and his mother are sisters. Mother Mary and Joseph, it's the perfect setup. You go to his house for dinner practically every Sunday.”

Andie chose a big chip and plowed it through the gooey dip. “Every other Sunday.” She stuck the chip in her mouth.

“Oh. Right. And the rest of the Sundays,
he
goes to
your
house. How can you pass up a chance like that? You could be working your wiles on him.”

“My
wiles?
” Andie sneered, then chose another chip, shoveled on the dip and popped the delicious morsel into her mouth. “Um. Heaven.”

“Like I said, you're not normal. You eat anything you want and stay disgustingly thin. And you don't have a crush on your gorgeous cousin.”

“Look,” Andie had said around another mouthful of onion dip, “I don't eat anything I want, believe me. Someday, when I get old, I'll have to take better care of myself. And as far as Clay Barrett goes, it's bad enough I had to grow up with him. God would not be that cruel to make me have a crush on him, too.”

Andie groaned when she thought of that long-ago conversation and all the others like it that she and Ruth Ann had shared.

Because all of a sudden, God
was
being that cruel.

And it got in the way of her performance at work, this unforeseen, impossible
crush
she was suffering from. She misplaced folders. She saved letters in the wrong files. She sometimes didn't even hear the little buzzer over the door until the client was standing at the reception counter, clearing his or her throat and waiting for Andie to look up from her computer and notice that someone was there.

And Clay was distant. Distant and irritable. He acted like an adult version of the judgmental tyrant he used to be when they were kids. He watched her. He seemed to be thinking mean things about her. And he rarely cracked a smile.

By the time Andie finally escaped the office at the end of the day and went home, she was a wreck. It was as bad as it had been in January, when she'd realized she was pregnant and didn't have the faintest idea what she was going to do about it.
Every day was hell. But at least in January, Clay had been pleasant and reasonably kind while he watched her all the time.

Now, he remained completely detached. He wanted the work done and he wanted it done now and he had no time for a gentle word or a teasing compliment.

Andie remembered very well now why she'd detested him for all those years. He was absolutely heartless when thwarted. Sometimes, when he barked at her for misplacing a file or not getting a letter or a bill out on time, she wanted to just stand up from her computer and yell at him that he was the meanest man she'd ever met, that she hated him and she quit.

But she controlled herself. She remembered the baby. She remembered that there was someone else to think of now, not just herself. She could ride this out. She knew she could.

However, by Thursday night, just five nights after Clay had insisted she marry him, Andie was so depressed that she wondered how she was going to go on. Ruth Ann called to see how she was doing at a little after eight.

“What is the
matter?
” Ruth Ann demanded immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Right. I'll be right over.”

“Ruth Ann, really, it's not—” But the dial tone was already buzzing in her ear. Ruth Ann had hung up.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later. When Andie opened it, her friend was grinning on the other side.

But then Ruth Ann frowned. “Saint Teresa, what happened? You looked great, and now you look like somebody killed your cat again.”

“Thanks.”

Ruth Ann stepped inside the door, kicked it closed with her foot and leaned back against it. “Johnny's watching the kids.”

“That was nice of him.”

“He said to take as long as I wanted. Who woulda thought
it, huh? Meadow Valley High's most incorrigible bad actor now deserves a medal as a husband and a daddy.” She held up a brown bag. “I come bearing ice cream. Peanut butter caramel mocha fudge. It
has
to be a sin, right?”

“I'm just not hungry.”

“Something is definitely wrong.” Ruth Ann grabbed Andie's arm, pulled her into the kitchen and dished out the ice cream into bowls. Then she sat opposite Andie and commanded, “There. Eat. And tell Ruth Ann all about it.”

And Andie did. Ruth Ann listened the way Ruth Ann always listened, with absolute attention, her pointed chin thrust forward, her eyes bright and alert. When Andie was done, Ruth Ann relaxed a little. She took a big bite of ice cream.

“Well?” Andie asked, when Ruth Ann had swallowed and started to take another bite without saying anything.

“Well, what?” Ruth Ann savored that other bite.

“Well, now that you've heard it, what do you think?”

Ruth Ann clinked her spoon on the edge of her bowl. “You don't want to hear what I think.”

“Yes, I do. Tell me.”

Ruth Ann set down her spoon. “Do what he wants. Marry him.”

“What?”

“You heard me. He won't give up. You know how he is. And you've admitted you've finally seen the light about him.”

“What light?”

“That he's
sexy,
you idiot. That he turns you on. I always told you—”

“Spare me. Please.”

“You want him. Admit it.”

“You're beginning to sound a lot like him, Ruth Ann.”

“Sometimes the truth is painful to deal with, from any source.”

“Ruth Ann. His best friend was the father of my baby. He
doesn't know that. I want a real marriage, if I ever have one. A marriage like you've got. Based on love and trust. I can't marry a man who doesn't already know and accept the truth about my baby.”

“Fine. So tell him the truth.”

“You
are
kidding.”

“No. The way it looks from my chair, you don't have a lot of options. How long do you think you're gonna last, working for him every day and having this unsettled
thing
between you? It's only been, what? Four days, and you look almost as bad as you did before you told him you were pregnant and got that out of the way. You should either quit your job—not a terrific choice, I gotta admit, at this point in your life—or tell him what you're afraid to tell him and then wing it from there. You're in deadlock right now, kiddo. It's an ugly place to be.”

“But it will
hurt
him, if I tell him. It will hurt him so badly.”

“For a woman who can't stand that man, you sure are worried about how bad you're gonna hurt him.”

“I never said I couldn't stand him.”

“For all the years while we were growing up, that's
all
you said.”

“That was then. Things change.”

“Oh, really? And anyway, you should have thought of all this before you spent the night with that Jeff character.”

Andie looked down at her bowl of melting ice cream. There was nothing to say to that. Ruth Ann was right.

“Didn't I warn you that you'd end up in trouble with some smooth-talkin' out-of-town guy? You were always too picky, you didn't get yourself any experience and then—”

Andie's head shot up. “Look who's talking. You were a virgin on your wedding night—we both know it.”

“I was eighteen on my wedding night and a good Catholic girl. I had a right to be a virgin.”

Andie looked down at the table again. “This is a stupid argument. I did what I did. And now I have to deal with the consequences.”

Ruth Ann was quiet, then she made a soothing sound. “Well, you're right. You're doing the best you can. I'm sorry if I'm too rough on you.”

Andie sighed. “I just don't know what to do. If Clay finds out, he'll kill Jeff.”

“It's a thought. I could kill him myself, actually.”

“Oh, stop it. I was as much at fault for what happened as Jeff was.”

“Fine. I still hate the jerk's guts. Want more ice cream?”

“No, thanks.”

“I believe I will have just one more little scoop.” Ruth Ann went to the refrigerator and dished herself out another bowlful. “Well, like I said, your options are limited. And you can't control what Clay will do.” Ruth Ann closed the carton and put it away. “You sure you can't live with just marrying him and
not
telling him?” She licked the serving spoon, considering. “I mean, after all, things really are
finito
between you and the best friend. It's not like you're pining away for him or anything.”

Andie looked at her friend in blank disbelief. “Oh, that's a great idea. And then what will I do when Clay and I are married and the baby's been born and Clay wants us to fly down to Los Angeles and visit his best pal, Jeff?”

“Yuck.” Ruth Ann set the serving spoon in the sink and began eating from her bowl. “You're right. Not good. Maybe looking for another job
is
the only real choice, after all.”

Andie leaned her chin on her hand. She felt so tired. The last thing she wanted to do was go looking for another place
to work. But if she was going to have to do it, she should do it right away. She wasn't showing yet, but she would be soon enough. Who would hire a woman who'd be needing maternity leave right away? She'd probably end up working a series of temp jobs for less pay and no benefits, at least until she'd had the baby and was back on her feet again.

And speaking of benefits, what about her insurance? Could she keep it if she left Barrett & Co.? And if she did, how much would it end up costing her a month? She should look into that. Given that she managed to find another job, any insurance she got from it wouldn't go into effect for a while. And then it probably wouldn't cover her having the baby.

Which would mean the family would end up stepping in to take up the slack. She didn't want them to do that. She didn't want them to end up picking up the tab for a choice that was all her own. She didn't want to burden them, and she didn't want to watch them all shake their heads knowingly and whisper that they'd seen this coming all along.

She wanted them to
admire
her the way they admired Clay. So that her child could be proud of her. So that her child could look at her with confidence and feel safe and protected, the way Andie had been safe and protected while she was growing up.

Oh, it was all just a nightmare. A nightmare, any way she turned.

Everything had been all worked out. Things were going just great.

And then Clay had to go and decide to marry her. And her whole fragile little life was turned upside down all over again.

Andie thought of her savings account, which had been growing steadily the past couple of years. With the money Jeff had sent and the bonus from Clay, she now had very close to twelve thousand dollars. She'd been saving for a house of her own, but of course now that would have to be put off.

Oh, she had been such a foolish dreamer of a girl. She'd wasted too many years, drifting, not applying herself. Having fun.

She hadn't earned the grades in high school to get into a really good college. Yet she hadn't minded, really. Life was easy and every day held something to delight her. In summer, there were trips to the river with her friends and waterskiing at the local reservoir. And in winter, there was snowmobiling and cross-country skiing and warm fires waiting when she came in from the snow. She'd found a job as a waitress that paid well enough. And she'd enjoyed herself thoroughly.

By the time she began to think she should do something with her life, she was in her twenties. She'd buckled down then, going to junior college and then to a business school.

Then Uncle Don's longtime office manager had decided to retire. Uncle Don had offered Andie the job. Andie had hesitated at first. She knew that someday Clay would return and the old animosity between them might ruin things. But Uncle Don had offered to pay her very well. The benefits were great, too. And Clay wasn't going to come home for years, anyway. So Andie had stepped in, surprising everyone with her efficiency and her willingness to work. She'd loved the job, especially after the old office manager left and she could run things all on her own.

Then Uncle Don had suffered his heart attack. Clay had come back ahead of schedule.

Those first months with Clay as her boss had been a rough time for Andie. She'd known she would have to prove herself all over again to him. And she'd done it. Clay had discovered how good she was, in spite of his prejudices against her.

But deep down, she'd resented having to prove her competence to the rival of her teenage years. And maybe what had happened on New Year's Eve was partly because of that.
Because her feelings had grown so tangled since Clay had come home. Because all of her accomplishments the past few years were minor compared to his. Because every time she looked at him, she felt edgy and unhappy and unsatisfied with herself. And yet she hadn't been able to let her feelings out. To do that might have cost her her job.

“Come on,” Ruth Ann suggested, cutting through Andie's unhappy thoughts, “let's see if there's a decent tearjerker on cable.”

“Oh, Ruthie. Watching a movie is not going to solve my problem.”

“No, but your problem is not going to be solved tonight, anyway. So you might as well try to forget it for an hour or two. Come on. A little oblivion is good for a person.”

“Oh, Ruthie…”

“Come on.” Ruth Ann grabbed Andie's hand and pulled her to her feet. “Get in there and find the viewer's guide. I'll make the popcorn.”