His 1-800 Wife (6 page)

"I never thought of anything like this happening," Catherine said, reaching for the box. She opened it and looked at the stone again. Its beauty made her remember all the fairy tales, happily ever after, white gowns, babies and dreams of a perfect life.

"You can't back out now." Jarrod took the ring from the box and reached toward her. She stared at his outstretched hand, then at the box, before bring­ing her gaze to his. Somehow her hand was in his, and he slipped the white gold ring on the third finger of her left hand.

It was heavy, unfamiliar, foreign, beautiful. Tears filled her eyes. When she raised her gaze to Jarrod's, he was blurred through the mist. She leaned forward and put her cheek next to his. The gesture said thank you. They were two friends sharing a moment in the sun. For a long time she held on to him, knowing this was their final moment as friends. After this nothing would be the same for them again. As Catherine held him, she felt something flowing through her, as incessant and powerful as the distant sea.

Jarrod's head turned, and he pressed a kiss onto her cheek. Catherine met him, and his mouth touched hers. Not with the hunger of yesterday, but with the gentleness of understanding. The kiss was brief, and she slid her head onto his shoulder. She felt him breathing. His heart beat fast, and she knew it matched the rhythm of her own.

They were bound now. What had begun as a practical joke had turned into something else. Had she been foolish to think she could control its course? She touched the ring on her finger. Neither she nor Jarrod could back out now, even if they wanted to. She tightened her arms around him. Did she really want to back out?

Did he?

Catherine had never been more confused. She'd lived next door to Jarrod for most of her life. Robert had lived around the corner. Growing up, they were a thorn in her side—two Abbotts to her Costello. Jarrod had pointed out that they were no longer children and this was no joke.

The ring glistened in the light. She thought of what it meant, should mean, to any couple getting married. The unbroken circle, the stone, a shining light in a storm, a beacon to point the way to the one person who'd vowed to stand by you for all their days on earth.

"Jarrod?" She pulled back and set herself apart from him. "Do you want to call this off?"

"We've only been engaged a day," he said.

Catherine looked down. "I said that last night. We'd only been engaged six hours then." She paused. "It's daylight now, and we should both be able to see things more clearly."

Jarrod looked out at the ocean. Catherine looked there too. The sea rolled in toward the rocky coast. It didn't take her fears away as it often did. It didn't lift the worry from her shoulders that her awareness to him had brought, and it didn't move the man sitting next to her.

"We could set a date for late next year," Catherine suggested. "Or we don't have to set a day at all. In a little while we could break the engagement alto­gether."

"Still scheming, aren't you?"

"I don't mean to," she said. "Normally, I'm a very honest person."

Jarrod looked serious. "Catherine, I know you are. You must be going through something terrible to go to this extreme."

"I think it's transference."

"What?"

"Audrey's been married for four years. She should have at least one child by now or be pregnant. Yet she seems to have parties instead of babies. I suppose she's getting pressured from my parents to produce a grandchild. In retaliation she joins Mother in their drive to find me a husband."

Jarrod took her hand, the one with the ring on it. "So you thought you'd take matters into your own hands?"

"It didn't sound so trivial when I came up with the idea."

"It isn't trivial. I know the pressure."

Catherine looked at him. He still held her hand. "You mentioned that yesterday. I thought mothers never wanted their sons to marry."

"Not my mother. I'm her only son and she wants grandchildren too."

Catherine leaned her shoulder against him. "Do you think we'll be like them when we have grown children?" Realizing what she had just said, she tried to correct herself. "I didn't mean
we."
She pulled her hand free to point it between Jarrod and herself. "I meant when we've finally married and—"

"I thought you were never going to marry," he interrupted.

"Well, I'm not, but you will. And you said you wanted children. Do you think—"

"Exactly like them," Jarrod smiled.

"Jarrod, how many children do you want?"

"Are you applying for the job of wife and mother?"

"No!" she said a little too loudly. "I never thought of you as a father, that's all. I guess I still think of you as that tormenting practical joker."

"He's gone, Catherine." His voice was serious, concerned that he wanted her to believe him.

"I know," she said. Some part of her wanted him back. "You might look the same, but you've changed."

"Changed. How?"

"You're older, more confident, there's a greater sureness about your actions. You don't seem to need to hide behind Jarrod, the Jokester." He was also handsome. He'd always been good-looking, even devastatingly attractive, but now there was something about his looks that seemed to come from the inside. "I think you have found your heart," she finished, sneaking a glance at him. "And I love that accent you've developed."

"I don't have an accent."

She put her hand out. "And I'm not wearing your grandmother's ring."

***

"You could have waited one more lousy day," Eliza­beth Wakefield said by way of greeting. She stood at the edge of the restaurant table at which Catherine sat, one hand resting indignantly on her hip. Her white suit looked crisp and new and highlighted her teak-colored skin. "I go away one weekend"—she held up a finger—"and you get yourself engaged. What's up with that?"

Catherine couldn't help but laugh at the mock annoyance on her friend's face. Elizabeth suddenly laughed and opened her arms.

"Congratulations."

Catherine stood up and hugged her.

"I knew all those arguments between the two of you were disguising something else," Elizabeth said.

Catherine had fooled her friend, and Elizabeth was no pushover.

"So tell me the particulars," Elizabeth said, taking a seat at the table. "When did this all happen? I would have sworn there was no man in your life, and to think you snagged Jarrod Greene. This must have flipped out every single woman in the state." She placed a hand on her chest and reared her head back in laughter.

Elizabeth would have gone on talking, but the waiter came over at that moment to take her drink order. He left to get her iced tea.

"There were a few women who expressed. . .sur­prise."

"A few?" Elizabeth raised her arched eyebrows. "If he still looks as good as he did five years ago, surprise is an understatement. I wouldn't be shocked if half the population of Rhode Island suddenly decided to move to greener pastures, no pun intended. If I'd known about this, I'd have blown off that trip to Washington." She laughed again. "To see Julianna's face when Jarrod announced your engagement would have been priceless."

The two women laughed until the waiter brought Elizabeth's drink and they had to sober to give their order. The small reprieve allowed Catherine time to collect herself. She needed to talk to someone. If she didn't, she was going to burst. She thought she could contain this, but things were rapidly veering out of control. Catherine twisted the engagement ring on her finger. She held her hands under the table so Elizabeth couldn't see how nervous she was.

Elizabeth, who had been her best friend since grade school, had opened a computer consulting firm about the same time Jarrod had left for England. It had taken off with the lightning movement of technolo­gy's bits, bytes and Pentium chips. Elizabeth had con­tracts that had turned her into a workaholic. Yet she always seemed to find time for Catherine. If there was anyone Catherine could trust with her plight, it was Liz.

She'd trusted her before with the details of her brief engagement while she lived in New York City. No one else knew the particulars, only that Catherine had been engaged to be married and for some reason it had been broken three weeks before the wedding. Shortly afterwards she'd returned to Newport and been there ever since.

"You wouldn't believe the buzz," Elizabeth resumed right after the waiter left. "Jarrod Greene getting married. This news even replaces the hype surrounding that 1-800-WIFE line. It's all anyone has talked about for weeks. Every time I go to a new job, someone is talking about calling. I suppose every man in the state has dialed it. I guess that comes with living in a small town. There just isn't enough to keep them busy."

"Elizabeth." Catherine stopped her friend before she went on. "Remember when we were young and said we'd be old maids together?"

Elizabeth gave her a serious look. "We were chil­dren, Catherine. We couldn't have been more than fourteen, and angry because we didn't have dates to the school dance.'' She laughed.

"We weren't serious. Catherine, you're not having second thoughts because of something we—"

Catherine put up her hand. "I know we weren't serious. And that's not it."

"Then what is it? You look as if you're on your way to a funeral instead of a wedding."

"The pact we made is still intact, unless there's a man in your life I don't know about?"

Elizabeth reached down and picked her napkin up from the floor. "There's no one serious," she said. "But what are you talking about? How is our plan still intact?"

"I own it." Catherine spoke slowly and quietly.

"Own what?"

"1-800-WIFE."

"What did you say?" Elizabeth leaned across the table, her mouth gaping.

Catherine looked around to make sure no one could hear her. Their table was along the windows, facing the water's edge outside. From where they sat, they could see almost every other table. Elizabeth hadn't been able to meet her during the height of the lunch hour, so most of the lunchtime crowd was gone. No one sat at the tables in front of or behind them. Catherine whispered, "I own it."

"You're kidding." Elizabeth leaned forward, whispering as if this was the public library.

Catherine shook her head. "I'm not kidding," she told her.

Elizabeth picked up her iced tea and sipped it through the long straw. "I should have ordered a scotch," she said. "I have the feeling I'm going to need it." She set the glass down and folded her arms on the table. "Talk," she ordered.

The waiter put two chef's salads and a basket of bread on the table. Each woman sat back, waiting for him to conclude his ministrations with butter and the salad dressings they'd asked for on the side.

As soon as they were alone, Catherine related her story, never raising her voice higher than a whisper. She told Elizabeth about installing the number to get her sister and mother to stop nagging her. How Jarrod's appearance seemed the perfect solution. Her sudden and rash decision that he would make the best candidate for her plan. She explained everything up to the point on the beach when Jarrod had given her his grandmother's ring.

"So you see, our pact will still work unless you find someone to marry. Mine is a marriage in name only. In six months, we'll be divorced. Life will go on." She smiled and took a sip of her drink.

The uplifting tone of her conclusion sounded like something out of a storybook, not part of real life.

"I should have known," Elizabeth said. "I admit when I got your message I thought there was some­thing a little strange about it, but you've always been a little strange, especially where Jarrod is concerned."

Catherine didn't ask her what that meant. She never could explain it, even to herself, why she kept coming back to let Jarrod play another joke on her, or why she'd come to his rescue if he was stranded or if he needed her to do something for him. She always called him when she was in trouble and didn't want her parents to find out. He'd come and help and never mention it again. She attributed it to their special relationship. They were friends even if they were also enemies. It was a combination that had no explanation either of them could put in words. They never tried. They just went on. Eventually Elizabeth gave up trying to understand.

"Let me see the ring." Elizabeth shook her fingers in a question.

Catherine twisted the engagement ring around on her finger. She'd purposely turned it toward her palm to hide the huge stone. Catherine extended her hand toward Elizabeth. The large blue diamond twinkled in the light coming through the windows. Elizabeth gasped just as Catherine had done when she first saw it

"Catherine, you've come up with some hair-brained schemes in your life, but this? How could you possibly think this was a good idea?"

Catherine shifted in her seat. She didn't really want to think that her calm, rational and logical friend was making her squirm. "It seemed like a good plan at the time. There are dating services all over the place. People meet through newspaper ads, on the Internet in chat rooms, any number of ways, and marry."

"But you didn't use those methods. Those people date and get to know each other. They fall in love and decide to marry."