Operation Mail-Order Bride (9 page)

I sighed, picked up a towel and wrung out the excess bleach water. I
swabbed the counter in order to have something to do, though it didn’t need to be cleaned any more. The angry impulse that brought Blair to the doughnut shop at four in the morning seemed to have passed, but I didn’t want him to think he could come whining to me whenever he was having relationship problems.

“I’m sorry for your troub
les, Blair, but you’re a grown man. You can straighten this out without my help.”

“I suppose.” He stared at the fresh doughnuts arrayed in the cases, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing them. He was deep in thought and said nothing for a couple of minutes. Then he seemed to come to attention and he met my eyes. His were inexpressibly unhappy. “I guess I shouldn’t have come here,” he began. “It’s just … ever since you moved here, it seems as if things have been going downhill for me.”

I controlled an urge to laugh.

“Good night. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he concluded, and left. I watched him climb into his car, start it and pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the campus and his apartment.

“Has he ever walked in here and given you a hard time when I wasn’t here?” asked David, emerging from the kitchen. I did laugh then, with relief. There had been nothing to worry about after all, not with David nearby. He poured himself more coffee and seasoned it, eyeing me curiously. “I know it’s none of my business, Cassie, but….”

“Former boyfriend. He dumped me. I’m over it.” I smiled at him, then I walked up to him, took his face in my hands and planted a kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” He looked far more pleased than he sounded.

“For being such a prince.”

David left the spoon standing in his mug and put his arms around me. After studying my eyes briefly, he kissed me: a deep lingering kiss. He didn’t pull away until we heard the sound of an approaching car. As he returned to the kitchen, he gave me a look that warmed me all the way to my toes. Our relationship had entered a new phase.

David confirmed this on our next date—dinner at my cottage. I
had put a small rump roast in my crock pot that morning before I went to sleep. When David arrived, it was perfectly cooked and a pot of rice was bubbling on the range. He leaned against the doorjamb, watching me make gravy.

“I’ve been thinking, Cassie.”

“And?”

“I like you. A lot. I think I’m in love with you. How do you feel about me?”

I smiled at him, but kept stirring. If this was a proposal, he was springing it on me at an awkward moment, for I didn’t dare ignore the gravy. I would ruin it.

“I like you, too, David, and I may love you as well. I’m not sure, but I know what we have is good. You seem to bring out my good qualities. I … feel good about myself when I’m with you.” I paused, remembering unpleasant experiences before I had met him, and shook my head. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“That’s how I react to you. I feel as if I can tell you anything, and I never get the impression that you’re judging me, or comparing me with someone you dated in the past. It’s as if with you, I can just … be.”

“I’m glad.” I continued to stir.

He pushed off from the doorpost and came over to the stove. He kissed me briefly, then embraced me from behind and pressed his head alongside mine.

“I know you can’t stop what you’re doing,” he said, watching my hands. “I just felt it was time … ahh, that smells good … ah, time to talk about getting serious.”

I relaxed against him. I should have known he would understand about the gravy.

“I’m glad you did, David. I never would have. You met me when I was hurting from my breakup with Blair and desperate from losing my job. I knew I was vulnerable and I decided to just let things happen around me for awhile.”

“I’m relieved I got to you before anyone else did, then.” He extended a finger toward the bubbling gravy.

“Watch it, David, that’s hot!” I grabbed his wrist and pulled it back. He spun me around and we kissed as his hands caressed my back. We stopped when the timer sounded to indicate that the rice was done.

“More of this later,” he said. “Now, I want to eat your pot roast. Oh!” he cried, holding me at arm’s length while I grinned at him. “I couldn’t ask for a finer woman: you’re gorgeous, you’re talented and you can cook.” Unexpectedly, I felt a chill run through me as he let me go and went to the counter to slice the roast. Later that night I recognized it as an occurrence of
déjà vu:
Blair had made a similar statement before things began to go wrong between us.

Our new commitment didn’t change our life much. We were already spending as much time together as our jobs allowed. What changed were some of our conversational topics. Carefully, we examined each other on our feelings about having children and how they should be raised and educated. We even discussed the things we might want to do on family vacations and during the years after we retired. Knowing that my faith was important to me, David began to attend Sunday morning services with me. Each time he did so, we lingered on the church lawn after service was over, as he talked with old friends and introduced them to me.

“We keep seeing the two of you together,” Larry Stone told me one Sunday. He always donned his only suit for morning service, and I was, as always, bemused at the incongruity between formal business attire and his burly welder’s body: a body that contained the gentlest of souls.

“We spend more and more time together,” I confessed. We were standing in the shade of a big live oak that dominated the church’s side yard, for the late spring sun was beginning to hint at summer’s impending ferocity. David was some yards away, telling a lengthy story about one of his Air Force experiences to a couple of men. Knowing he was out of earshot and distracted, I went on. “He’s so nice, he seems almost too good to be for real, Larry. Do you know if he has any bad traits?”

He chuckled. “He has little patience for fools, but he’s good at concealing it. Now, that doesn’t mean,” he hastened to say, “that if you haven’t noticed any impatience when you two are having a discussion that he’s hiding it from you.” I said nothing, waiting for him to explain himself. “You’re no fool, Cassie, and I’m sure David is well aware of it.”

“Thanks,” I acknowledged the compliment.

“Now, if David and Blair got together, David might have a hard time controlling his temper, and I don’t mean because of the way Blair treated you.”

“Go on,” I urged. I had not filled David in on the details of our estrangement, but Larry didn’t know that.

“You are not the only person who has been on the receiving end of Blair’s arrogance, Cassie.”

“You two look thick as thieves,” called Debra as she approached. She pulled a book out of her tote that I wanted to borrow, then reminded Larry that they had a luncheon engagement. I stood alone for a moment under the great tree, feeling the warm breeze in my hair, and marveled. A few months ago I had felt so alone. Now, I seemed to be surrounded by congenial people who were eager and willing to befriend me. My eyes turned to David, whose story was drawing to its end, and I smiled. I even had a new boyfriend—a boyfriend greatly superior to the one who had rejected me. I had not felt so blessed in a long time.

David’s audience burst out laughing at the conclusion of his story. One of the men caught me watching and drew David’s attention to the fact that I was alone. He immediately turned and headed in my direction, calling “See you next week” over his shoulder.

“I’d better run you home,” David said, putting an arm around me. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

Late that night, as I was finishing the last of the doughnuts, David called.

“Good, it’s you,” he said.

“What’s up?” David had never telephoned me at the shop before and I wondered if something was wrong.

“I got a call after I arrived home today—I mean yesterday—after church. I’ve got a job interview in Houston this morning. I’m leaving for the airport in a few minutes. I should be able to get back and to the shop in time for my shift, but if I don’t, don’t worry unless I’m not there by midnight. It’ll be a small, Monday night production. I can get it done in four hours if I have to.”

“Okay.” I had lots of questions, but I saved them: I could tell he was in a hurry. “Have a safe trip and enjoy it,” I wished him, “and good luck finding time to sleep!”

The remainder of my shift was spent wondering what kind of job it was and how, if David got it, it was going to affect our relationship.
Houston is so far away,
I thought as I walked home.
I might never see him again.
I dreaded the idea.

David had been wise to warn me that he might be late. He was, but only half an hour.

“Well?” I prodded as he entered the counter area from the kitchen. He only smiled as he finished tying his apron and got a clean mug. He looked down the counter at the only customer—an elderly regular, engrossed in his evening paper—shook his head and motioned me to the kitchen door. When I joined him there, he let me see how excited he was.

“It’s a good job, Cassie. It builds on what I did in the Air Force and takes it a step further. Th
ey got in touch with my former commanding officer because he’s listed as a reference on my
résumé
, and they said his recommendation is what prompted them to call me.”

“Did they offer you the job?”

“Not yet. They have two or three more people to interview. But I think I’m a front runner. It was a good day. Well…” he looked around the kitchen and moved away to set his mug on its usual shelf, “I’d better get to work.”

I did likewise. Between my cleaning duties and waiting on the trickle of customers, then finishing David’s doughnuts, he filled me in about the job. If hired, he would be a technician who would
install intercoms and sound systems. After the first couple of years, when he would have to travel frequently, they would want him to spend more time at the Houston office, and train one or two other Tech. Reps to work in the field. It sounded perfect for David: working hands-on with electronic gadgets, troubleshooting, travel, then the prospect of a settled home base before the footloose aspect of the work became tiresome. He couldn’t seem to stop talking about it. I was happy for him, but not once did he mention how I might fit into his plans. As usual, he finished his part of the production early. He approached me as I filled the Bavarian Creams with a pastry bag.

“I hate to leave you all alone to finish, Cassie, but I need to drive home and hit the sack before all this excitement wears off.”

Though his eyes still danced, I could see how physically tired he was.

“Go,” I said with a kiss. “We can talk more tonight.”

But I was not to see or talk to David for four days. The manager came in early Tuesday to talk me into trading my nights off with another woman. I knew better than to call David at the shop, so I waited, but he didn’t call me. When I entered the kitchen on Thursday, Akmed was in a foul mood.

“Did you hear, Cassie? David gave notice today. I cannot make weekend production. I am not fast enough!” He continued to complain and mutter throughout his shift. I kept my thoughts to myself, hurt that David had evidently been offered and had accepted the job, but had not let me know himself.

By the time we saw each other Friday night, I felt deeply uneasy. David had still not made any attempt to get in touch with me, and I was reliving the weeks when Blair cut off communication with me before we broke up. Though David and I had not quarreled, and I was pretty sure I had done nothing to annoy him, the parallel to the earlier situation worried me.

I don’t really know David that well,
I admitted doubtfully.
In fact, if I count the months I spent writing and phoning Blair, I’ve hardly spent any time getting to know David in comparison!
The one consolation I had during these days was knowing that he wasn’t ill or an accident victim, for I received reports about him from every co-worker I saw. I also knew that he was getting ready to take a big step forward in life and I knew it was a good thing for him, even if it meant I would be left behind.

“I imagine you heard the good news from Sue or Akmed,” David began.

I nodded. “Akmed would argue with the ‘good news’ part of that statement. He’s pretty upset.”

David shrugged. “He’ll get over it. He can do more than he thinks he can, just like the rest of us. If he can’t handle weekends,
Sue will find someone who can.”

David was right not to feel guilty about leaving. He was giving two weeks notice, and only a teenager would regard a food service job as anything but a way station along the road to something better.

“When do you leave?”

“Nine days from today. I’ve been running around since they called: talking to the apartment manager, renting a U-Haul. I meant to call you, Cassie, but it seemed that whenever I had a free moment, I knew you’d be asleep.”

I had not been sleeping well at all, but decided not to say so.

We didn’t have much time to talk, for the production order was nearly double what it would normally be on a Friday night. A conference at the university started the next morning and was scheduled to run for the next three days. Our shop contracted to supply the doughnuts every morning. Not only did we both have to work like demons to get everything done on time, I had far more than the usual number of customers, and the constant interruptions made conversation impossible.