Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (12 page)

Chapter 15

It’d only taken two days
for him to sign a month-to-month lease and move out of that claustrophobic efficiency apartment and no more than half an hour to unpack. Because the condo unit was managed by a friend of Cindy’s, he was given a substantial decrease in the monthly rental rate. Cindy, who was helping him to break in his new place, had just finished clearing the dinner dishes and settled comfortably beside him on the sofa. She turned to look at him.

Carson studied her for a moment, warmth rad
iating from his light brown eyes, and then he turned his attention back to the roaring fire. He was starting to grow a mustache, as if to symbolize his new life, and he seemed much more relaxed than he had when she first brought him to the condo.

“So tell me, Cindy, why are you still single? I know I’ve asked you before, but—”

“Then why ask me again? You sound just like my mother. You do realize that before the 1960s, I would’ve been called a spinster?”

A smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Some spinster,” he said.

“Right now, I’m married to my career. I’m hoping to complete the research on cognitive behavior modification soon. The grant will expire in another few months, and I have to find more federal dollars because I can’t possibly complete the study by the end of the fall season. And the school counseling grant is just about to wrap up too.” She worked her way back to his original question. “I’m still single because so much of my time and energy is expended on my research. I don’t have enough to go around. Besides, I’m still waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for him—the man of my dreams to find me and tell me how much being his wife and the mother of his children means to him.”

“Is that so?”

She moved closer. “Oh, yes, Carson. Yes,” her eyes turning soft. “I want him to offer me his unconditional love.” His body had interesting proportions. Broad shoulders. Slim hips. Long, long legs. Catching herself up, she grimaced.

Pinching his throat, Carson looked uneasy and changed the subject. “When I stopped by to pick you up from your apartment this evening, I felt really worried about you. I didn’t know you lived in a s
ecluded area. Some nut might be hiding out there in the bushes or the trees, waiting to pounce on you.”

Cindy frowned. She detested being treated like some weak, frail woman who would run helplessly, at nightfall, into a wooded area when she heard som
eone chasing her, break a heel, and lie powerlessly among the leaves and debris on the forest floor until her stalker caught up with her.

“I’m a big girl, Carson, and very resourceful. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you are,” he said. “But I happen to care about you. Probably more than I should.”

For an instant, his remark hovered in the air between them. “You do?” she asked anxiously. “I care about you too.”

Carson cleared his throat, again looking cautious, and Cindy guessed she’d read more into his words than he intended. “So tell me the truth this time,” he said, “what’s the real reason why you haven’t married some nice guy and started making babies? As much as you have to offer, I’m sure the men are lined up at your doorstep.”

She moved away from him and sat up straighter.
Because I’m waiting for you
. “Like I told you. I’ve been so focused on my career, it’s hard to achieve the right balance.” He didn’t respond, so she continued. “I lived with a guy for a little more than a year. He wanted to get married, but I didn’t. I knew we weren’t right together; it was just a convenient relationship. So he found somebody who was willing to marry him, and I sent them a toaster. After that, I was alone for a while, until I drifted into a relationship with my ex-boss.”

“Your boss?” Carson’s eyebrows went up at this confession.

“Ex-boss. I’m not really sure how or why it happened. I don’t make a habit of sleeping with married men, and I’m not usually gullible. I just felt this empty spot inside me, and I thought he could fill it. I was wrong. He wasn’t at all the right kind of man for me.”

“What is the right kind of man for you?”

You are
. “For starters, one who doesn’t lie.”

His grin was slow and lazy. “I guess that’s a good place to start.”

She paused. “I never told you, but I have a daughter, Deanna.”

“You do? Where is she?”

“She lives with my mother.”

“How old is she?”

“Twelve. She’s only staying with my mother until I can get a permanent job and give her a real home.”

“How long has she been living with your mother? And where does her father stand in the pi
cture?”

“My, aren’t we curious?” She slumped on the sofa cushion and avoided the question with a gene
ralized confession. “Sure, I’ve made some mistakes with my life, but who hasn’t? Now I’m trying to clean it up and make things right for Deanna—and for me.”

“I’ve shared my life history and my problems with you,” Carson said. “Don’t you think it’s time for me to listen to yours?”

Cindy sighed and decided Carson was right. The time was ripe to talk about her past with him. “I was married to an executive stockbroker named Norman,” she said. “We had a good life and we were happy. From the moment Deanna was born, I knew she would be a wonderful daughter.” Her expression went soft. “She had Norman’s beautiful wide eyes, a small, pudgy nose, and a round mouth. The only trait she inherited from me is her height.” She shook herself to full awareness. “She’s the tallest girl in her class and probably the heaviest. When Norman became ill, she seemed bewildered, completely disoriented. She was only eight when he died, and since then, she seems to have lost interest in anything but food—especially fatty foods. I think she feels alone in the world because I was so engrossed in my own mourning that I couldn’t give her the attention she needed. That’s why I sent her to live with my mother and took the counseling job—to try to get my life back together so I could be a better mother.”

She stopped and turned to look at Carson. To her relief, he looked sympathetic rather than judgmental. “Go on,” he said.

With another sigh, she continued. “Deanna used to be such a pretty little girl, with chestnut-brown skin as soft and silky as a baby’s bottom. Her bangs used to lie flat across her forehead, and I could pull the rest of her hair into a short, tight ponytail. She was fun loving and good-natured and imaginative, and responsible. She never carried tales or tattled like other little girls. She never cried unless she was seriously hurt. She never made trouble, but she talked a lot and asked a lot of questions in her little-girl voice, and her biggest pleasure in life seemed to be the answers she received to those questions.” Cindy broke off.

“And now things are different?” Carson prompted.

Cindy nodded. “I’m her mother and a counselor, and I spent months trying to reach her, to understand why she was so withdrawn and antagonistic by turns.” She sighed.

“And at the same time, I—I felt empty because I’d found the perfect man and then I’d lost him. I thought we’d be married forever and a day. As time passed, I began to look for another ideal man, trying to separate the wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats. But my search for the perfect mate inte
rfered in my relationship with my daughter. So when my mother asked me to leave Deanna in her care, I realized she was right. It was the best thing for both of us.”

While Carson was making his comments, Cindy’s mind drifted to a recent confession her mother had shared with her.

“
When I was young, I was very pretty,” Cindy’s mother had said. “I was conceited and in many ways rather insufferable. Your father fell madly in love with me, poor man, and I’m afraid I took advantage of it. I was in love with him, too, but I was interested in society and money—not that they’re not important, mind you, but I put too much importance on them—which is why I feel guilty about your father. He gave me every material thing my heart desired. I used his love and didn’t appreciate it enough when I had it.” She sighed and sipped her tea. “But that’s all in the past now. I thank God that Jesus came into my life when He did. We have to think of the future—your future. We have to think about a proper school for Deanna. And pardon my saying it, dear, but we have to think about a financially secured husband for you
.”

Cindy smiled and eased back into consciousness. “I’m working on it,” she whispered.

“Working on what?” Carson asked.

“Oh, uh,” she blinked, “working on strengthe
ning my relationship with my daughter.

“Good idea,” Carson agreed. “Sounds like your Norman was quite a guy.”

Cindy nodded.

“Imagine, all this time I never knew you were married or had a child. I’ve always thought—well, never mind, it’s getting late anyway, and I suppose we can continue this conversation at another time,” Carson said.

In truth, neither Carson nor anyone else could ever take Norman’s place in the center of her heart. That space was dedicated solely to him, forever. But Carson was a very attractive man. She liked his new mustache, which made him look manlier than ever. His tall, muscular body and his cleft chin, along with a tendency to laugh in spite of his problems, had touched something inside her that had been even lonelier, even emptier, than she’d realized. Falling in-love with him was easy. Finding a permanent spot in her heart for him would be just as easy. Only not in the center, but somewhere close by.

* * *

It had taken Cindy only one week after Carson had settled into his new place to fabricate a story that her apartment had caught fire. She asked him about letting her move in, only for a few weeks until she could find a reasonably priced place to rent.

“What about the consequences?”

“Are people talking?” Cindy returned. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Not yet, but they might if I let you stay here.”

“Let them. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“My wife might think differently.”

“She might, but so what?” Cindy said cattily.

“You’re right,” Carson thought over. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’m just a porn addict to her. She’ll misinterpret this too.” After giving it light consideration, he said, “Of course, you can stay here until you find a decent place.” He added a bit of annoying humor by saying, “Only here, you wouldn’t have to worry about a lot of trees and bushes.”

Chapter 16

Ordinarily, Katharine would ignore the
monthly postcard from the doctor’s office reminding her it was time for a checkup. She would schedule her annual examination at her convenience. But this time, she felt a checkup was a good idea. Even though her lovemaking with Carson had been infrequent recently, it hadn’t been absent altogether. She wasn’t convinced he’d been faithful, and she was well aware of the risks of infidelity.

She’d read a pamphlet from the Center for Di
sease Control and Prevention stating that a person can contract an STD and have no symptoms for weeks, months, or even years and that STDs are contagious even when no symptoms exist. She was aware of it. The pamphlet was just a reminder.

If Carson and Cindy had had unprotected sex . . . . Just the thought of it terrified her. She picked up the phone and punched in the number to schedule an a
ppointment.

* * *

In the exploratory room following her gynecological exams, the doctor found a chain of tiny blisters starting on one side of Katharine’s back and circling her upper torso.

“How long have you had these?” he asked her. “Have you been having pains in your chest, around your ribs?”

“I didn’t know about the blisters on my back, it must have just occurred. But I did feel chest pains a few weeks ago. I thought I was having a heart attack. I’ve been having some personal, well, marital problems, and I attributed the chest pains to the stress.” She turned her face away in embarrassment, feeling that it was necessary to share this information with the doctor so he could give her an accurate diagnosis. She didn’t want to discuss her concerns about Carson’s fidelity if she could avoid it, and she saw no need to mention the body enhancement program.

The doctor was forthright. “You have Herpes Zoster. Shingles. It’s usually very painful. I’m su
rprised you didn’t come see me earlier.” He removed the rubber gloves and tossed them in the trashcan.

“I have herpes?” Katharine’s voice high and shrill.

His smile was thin and weak. “You don’t have genital herpes. Good news, huh? What you have is a virus, probably triggered by stress.”

“Did I contract this from someone who was a
lready infected?”

“No. Shingles is a painful, blistering rash caused by the varicella virus, which also causes chickenpox. It’s stored in dormant form in the nerve cells of pe
ople who’ve had chicken pox and can reawaken as the result of stress or trauma or a weakened immune system, which is why it usually affects people much older than thirty-five. It affects only a limited area of skin, but it may make you feel surprisingly tired and run down, even depressed.”

“Is there any medicine I can take for it? Will it ever go away?”

“I can give you some cream to reduce any itching. The infection will eventually go away. It’s not life threatening, but like I said, I’m surprised you didn’t come see me before now. It puzzles me that you haven’t experienced any sort of pain. Usually, shingles’ patients can’t bear to have clothes touching the affected area.” He pulled a small pad from his lab pocket and began scribbling a prescription. “Here we go,” he said, handing her the prescription. “I’ll be back shortly with the results of your blood tests.”

He left the room and she got dressed. As she sat on the hard, cold, swivel stool, she imagined the doctor and nurse bursting into the room to tell her that she had HIV, chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis B, h
uman papilloma virus, or some sexually related cancer. Wasn’t that what life was all about, a test of how much a person could endure? Maybe this was why Carson left. What if he felt some kind of itching or burning and thought I’d given him a STD? But that would be ridiculous of him to think. What if it turned out that this Herpes Soster, or whatever it was called, was actually contagious? Or what if he knew that he was infected by Cindy or some other woman and didn’t want to spread the disease to me? Maybe that’s why he’d stopped having sex with me, or very little of it.

She closed her eyes, intertwined her fingers b
eneath her chin, and began a silent prayer.

The doctor cleared his throat, indicating his return. “God did answer your prayers,” he said as she opened her eyes. “Your tests came back clean.”

Katharine practically leaped off the stool. She pranced into his arms and hugged his neck tightly. He started laughing. It was an unprofessional thing to do, but with good news like that, her emotions had taken control.

Releasing her embrace, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, Father,” she said fervently. “And thank you, doctor,” she added, returning her gaze to the messenger.

“See you in a week from today.” This time his smile was effectual and full of promise. “Oh, and one more thing. The Herpes Zoster turned out to be only a rash caused by a case of trepidation paroxysm. In other words, it means an anxiety outbreak. You may want to consider seeking the assistance of a family therapist. It will help to eliminate any future outbreak.”

Once he’d left, she vaulted around in a happy circle, unable to sit still. “My Deliverer has given me a clean bill of health,” she said aloud. Then Carson and Cindy intruded on her thoughts, and her smile faded.

Soon afterward, the nurse returned and handed her a card with her next appointment on it. The date was fine with her.

* * *

As a follow-up visit, Katharine entered the lobby to her doctor’s office. He wanted to ensure the rash on her back didn’t become infected and, in fact, was healing. To her amazement, the rash was pract
ically gone which meant she didn’t need a referral to a dermatologist.

The last time she was there, the doctor had mi
sdiagnosed her infirmity without so much as an apology. With her best friend’s husband being a physician, she was well aware how difficult it was for a doctor to admit guilt. Nonetheless, she was immensely satisfied with the outcome.

She crept softly to the front window, spoke to the receptionist, and scribbled her name on the sign-in sheet. Four other women were patiently waiting for their names to be called. Three of them gave her a quick glance as she sat down and returned to their own business. One was reading a romance novel, a
nother a magazine. The third was whispering into her cell phone and occasionally glancing up at the television, while the last one sat with her arms crossed and eyes closed.

The woman using the cell phone and the one reading the magazine were called into the examin
ation rooms. Katharine was informed that she would spend the next twenty minutes waiting for her turn. She picked up a copy of
Atlanta Medical Today
magazine and casually flipped through the pages. It was a special edition entitled “A New You.”