* * * *
“And of course, the party is tonight. Then, Saturday we’ll go to the Thompsons for cocktails and dinner, but other than that, I really haven’t planned very much.”
Aware of an expectant pause, Bette filled it, though her mother’s words hadn’t sunk in. “That’s fine, Mom.”
“Is it? Well, with Ronald and Claire here, too, I just didn’t know how many plans to make. Especially with the children. It’s a long trip for the little ones for such a short time, and if there are too many things going on, it gets too much for them.”
Her mother had already gone over the weekend plans twice before, once after picking up Bette at the airport on Wednesday and again yesterday. With her mother covering the same information as they sat on chaise longues in the waning sun while the rest of the family enjoyed a boat ride on the lake, Bette didn’t have to bother pulling her thoughts from what had occupied them since Tuesday night. Paul.
She’d acted on impulse in his office. Without considering where it might lead or what its repercussions might be, she had said exactly how she felt—about him and what was happening between them. At least half of how she felt. Because she’d told him only about the pain. She hadn’t told him about the joy he’d brought her. And no matter how much he might hurt her, she could never deny the laughter and the loving he’d given her.
“Would you like that, Bette?”
“Sorry. What?”
“A tennis lesson. I said I could set you up with a tennis lesson Saturday afternoon so you’d have something to do. We haven’t planned much for you this trip.”
“No. Thanks, Mom, no tennis lesson. It’s all right.”
“Is it? I know you like to have things structured. That’s another way you’ve taken after your grandfather. But down here, we’ve gotten into the habit of taking life easier. And, of course I knew you’d bring some work with.”
Her mother’s words penetrated this time. “Really, Mom. It’s fine.”
...Like to have things structured … knew you’d bring some work with . . .
She had brought work, though she hadn’t taken it out of the suitcase. And she did like structure, though that didn’t mean twenty-four hours a day.
Another way you’ve taken after your grandfather. Took after him or blindly emulated him? That was what Paul had accused her of. No time for fun, only time for work and advancement.
“Oh, here they come!” Her mother headed down the path to meet the boat pulling up to the Whartons’ small boat house.
She watched her mother and father, Ronald and Claire, and remembered her belief that she couldn’t possibly fall in love with Paul Monroe because she saw his faults too clearly. She’d been wrong. Her mother and sister-in-law weren’t blind to their men’s faults; love just focused beyond the faults. Reason gave way to something wiser.
She hadn’t given that to Paul. She’d fought hope so hard that she hadn’t admitted there might be cause for it; Paul had changed in the past weeks. Had she?
Her fears for the future had looked over her shoulder at every stage, never allowing her to open herself to him fully. Even telling him she loved him had carried the reminder of the future, and her fears for it. I love you, but I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to...someday I think—I hope—I’ll stop loving you. And then I’ll leave.
Another thought had her sitting upright and swinging her feet to the patio.
Fears for the future.
Her grandfather had taught her to look to the future. Maybe she’d taken the lesson too much to heart, turning her back on the present, but with Paul she’d done something else. She’d forgotten that hope was also part of the future.
She’d already started out of the chaise, when she heard her father’s shout.
“Bette! C’mon down and we’ll take you out, too.”
“No, thanks, Dad. You go ahead without me this trip. I’ve got to make a phone call.”
No answer at his office. She checked her watch. Nearly five-thirty in Chicago. They were gone.
His answering machine picked up at his apartment. She hesitated, then hurried on before it cut her off. “Paul, it’s Bette. Please call me at my parents’.”
Hanging up, she wondered if she should call back, tell him more, tell him...No, the things she had to tell him couldn’t be compressed between the beeps of a voice message.
He’d brought so much into her life, the laughter, the passion, the companionship. From him she was learning the value of now. With his impromptu reactions and the way he drew spontaneity from her, he’d taught her that today was as important as tomorrow. She could enjoy window decorations now and then without forfeiting the future.
Or take an evening boat ride with her family while she prayed for the phone to ring. And hoped that enough todays would build a tomorrow.