Keeping Her Page 7

  "She's never been around people with a lot of money. I don't really know how your world works, and maybe Rachel will adjust without a problem, but I still worry about her."

  "I don't think you need to. Your daughter is very capable of handling herself. She isn't easily intimidated. If she were, she never would've gone out with me." I smile. "I can be a little intimidating sometimes."

  "She's never been afraid of a challenge." He laughs. "I remember the first time we took the girls to a pool. Rachel went up to the water and jumped right in. She was only two and she just jumped in. No fear. Her sister, on the other hand, was scared to death of the water." He shakes his head. "Those girls were quite a pair. So similar and yet so different."

  He gets quiet, and although I don't know him that well, I get a feeling I know what he's thinking.

  "Henry, I can't imagine what a huge loss it was to lose your daughter, but I can assure you, you aren't losing Rachel. Marrying me and living in Connecticut won't change her. Living in my world, she's not going to become someone else. She always tells me what great parents you and your wife are, and how grateful she is for what you've taught her. She's the way she is now because of how you raised her, and nothing can change that. I know you miss her, and I'll make sure she comes back here as much as possible. I'm not trying to take her from you. I want her to still have a close relationship with her family. That's important to both of us."

  He stands up and holds his hand out. I stand up as well and shake his hand.

  "You have my blessing, Pearce." He points behind me. "But you still have to earn your keep. Grab some logs."

  I go over and take some from the pile.

  "Have you ever made a fire?" he asks.

  "No. My loft has a gas fireplace. You just flip a switch."

  "Well, there's no flipping switches here." He takes two of the logs I picked out. "You have to get a mix of sizes. Some large ones and then some smaller ones for kindling." He picks up another log. "This one's too big. I should've made it smaller." He looks at me. "I'm gonna guess you've never chopped a log?"

  I smile. "That would be correct."

  He takes the ax that's lying next to the woodpile. "Follow me. And bring those two logs."

  I follow him to an area just in front of the house. There's more light here than by the woodpile, so at least I can see what I'm doing.

  Henry points to a large tree stump. "Set the log there."

  I do as he says, setting it upright.

  "Okay, here's what you do. I'll show you, and then you can try." He lifts the ax up, then swings it down on the log, splitting it into perfect halves. He makes it look easy, but I'm sure it's not.

  He sets the other log on the stump and hands me the ax. I'm not sure he should be trusting me with an ax, given that I've never even held one before.

  "Get a good stance going," he says. "Legs apart. Make sure you're stable. Then bring the ax down in one controlled movement, making sure to keep your eye on the log."

  It's odd to get instruction like this. Whenever my father wanted to teach me something, he'd make me do it without telling me how, so that he could criticize me after the fact. It was less of a teaching experience and more of an opportunity for him to put me down and make me feel worthless, thus making himself feel powerful.

  I follow Henry's instructions, but I hit the log at the wrong spot and just splinter it and it rolls off the stump.

  "I guess I'm not good at it." I offer him the ax but he doesn't take it.

  "You did fine. You at least hit the log. A lot of first timers miss it." He sets the log back on the stump. "Try again, and this time, aim for that dark line in the center."

  I take another swing at it, doing as he said, and this time I split it, but only halfway.

  "You just have to hit it harder," Henry says. "You have to do it a few times to get a feel for it. You want to try another one?"

  "Sure."

  He goes back to the woodpile. This is another new experience for me. And I don't just mean the wood chopping. I mean the fact that I'm being taught something without being yelled at or scolded or criticized. Henry is actually being helpful and wants me to learn.

  For a moment there, he felt more like a father than my own.

  CHAPTER SIX

  6

  RACHEL

  "I can't believe how handsome he is," my mom says as I get some glasses from the cupboard.

  I laugh. "Yeah, I know, Mom. You've said that like three times now."

  "He's much more handsome than Adam. It's not even fair to compare them."

  I go around her to get the iced tea from the fridge. "Aside from Pearce's good looks, do you like him?"

  "Honey, I just met him, but I can tell you two are in love and I can see how happy you are with him, so that earns him some points. And he doesn't seem snobby at all."

  "Not everyone with money is a snob."

  "Does he act differently when he's around his friends?"

  "We haven't spent much time around his friends. I met this guy, Royce, that Pearce went to college with, but that's about it. Pearce works so much that he doesn't have a lot of time to socialize."

  "Do you think he'll keep working all those hours after you're married?"

  "I hope not, but I really don't know."

  "What are you going to do for a job?"

  "I'm not sure yet. It depends on where we live. There aren't any jobs for me in the town where he lives now."

  "Is he willing to move?"

  "I don't know."

  "Rachel, you and Pearce need to discuss these things. You shouldn't get married until you do."

  "Mom, don't worry about it. Pearce and I will figure it out." I take some napkins from the drawer. "Are we ready? Should I call the guys in?"

  "Yes, everything's ready."

  Leave it to my mom to bring my mood down. I know Pearce and I have a lot to talk about and a lot of decisions to make, but I don't need my mom worrying about that stuff. I already worry enough about it, especially my job. I graduate in a couple weeks, and then what? What am I going to do for work?

  When I get outside, I smile when I see my handsome husband swinging an ax over his head. Good old Dad. Putting Pearce to work. I watch as he hits the log. It splits right in half. He's good for someone who I'm sure has never done it before.

  Pearce and my dad are laughing about something, so they must be getting along. It doesn't surprise me. My dad gets along with everyone. He makes friends everywhere he goes. And he loves teaching people stuff, which is why he's teaching my husband how to chop wood. If my dad wasn't a farmer, I'm sure he would've been a teacher.

  "Dad." I walk up to him. "What are you doing? Pearce just got here and you're already making him chop firewood?"

  My dad's arm goes around me and he squeezes me into his side, making me trip on my feet. It's his goofy dad hug. He always did it when I was a kid. He yanks me into his side so fast my feet can't catch up.

  "I told him he has to earn his keep," my dad says, letting me go.

  I smile at Pearce. "Did he earn it yet? Because it's time for dinner."

  My dad inspects the logs on the ground. "I suppose that's good enough for now. But you'll have to do some more tomorrow, Pearce. I've got a whole pile that needs to be chopped."

  "Dad! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. He's not chopping wood on Thanksgiving."

  "Chores still need to be done, honey."

  "I don't mind," Pearce says, setting the ax down. "It's good exercise."

  I take his hand. "I hope you worked up an appetite because my mom made a big dinner. And two pies for dessert."

  We go inside to the dining room table. My mom has everything set out; roast, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, a salad, rolls, and a few other side dishes.

  "I wasn't sure what you liked," my mom says to Pearce, "so I made a few extra things to make sure you had plenty to eat."

  "That's very kind of you," he says. "But you didn't have to go to all that work. I eat most anything."

>   Pearce is so polite. My ex-fiancé, Adam, never was. He pretended to be, but it always came off as fake. I hope I don't run into him this weekend.

  After dinner, we all hang out in the living room and talk. Poor Pearce. My parents have made him talk about himself since the second he arrived. They've asked him so many questions that even I learned stuff I didn't know about him. Like the fact that he was valedictorian at his high school. He went to a very elite prep school. I'm sure he had tough competition from his classmates and yet he ended up the valedictorian. And he graduated at the top of his class at both Harvard and Yale. So how can his father not be proud of him? I don't understand it.

  We stay up talking until eleven, then go to bed. My parents' bedroom is down the hall from mine with a bathroom in between, so they shouldn't hear Pearce sneaking into my room. But by eleven-thirty, he still hasn't shown up, so I sneak down to the guest room.

  "Hey." I climb into bed with him. "I thought you were you going to come visit me."

  "I wanted to make sure your parents were asleep."

  I snuggle up to his warm body. "So what did you think of them?"

  "They're very nice. Very hospitable. A lot better than my parents."

  I don't disagree.

  "I can tell they really like you." I kiss his cheek. "I'm sure by the time we leave here my dad will give you his blessing to marry his daughter."

  "He already did. We had a discussion about it when you and your mother were preparing dinner."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said we had his blessing."

  "Wow. You must've really won him over. He barely knows you and he already approves of you."

  "Rachel, are you sure you don't want to tell them we're married? I don't feel right lying to them like this."

  "I don't either, but it'd be worse if my mom found out she'd missed my wedding. She's all excited about helping plan it. Where do you think we should get married? We need to get a place fast if we're really doing this in March."

  "Reserving a place won't be a problem. When we tell them who we are, they'll make sure to accommodate us." He hesitates. "Rachel, I want you and your mother to be included in the plans, but we're going to need to hire a team of wedding coordinators. You can give them direction, but it might be best if you just let them take care of everything."

  "I can't plan my own wedding?"

  "With something this public, people will be dissecting every decision that's made, from the flowers to the cake to the place cards at the reception. If it's not completely perfect, you'll be criticized by the media, and I don't want them doing that to you."

  "Pearce, I want this wedding to be how we want it, not someone else."

  "I'm not saying you can't be involved in the decisions, but I think you should let the professionals handle the details."

  It's another part of Pearce's world I'm not used to. As someone who's fairly well-known, everything he does is judged, and like he said, if it doesn't appear perfect it reflects poorly on him. I know this wedding is just for show, but I was hoping I could plan it as if it were real. But that may not be possible.

  "Maybe we should do this tomorrow night," I say, referring to why I came in here. "I'm really tired from the trip."

  "I'm not tired." He brings me in for a kiss. "I have more than enough energy."

  I pull back. "Let's just do it tomorrow."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No. I'm just tired." I give him a kiss as I get out of bed. "I love you."

  "I love you too."

  I go back to my room and lie there, staring up at the ceiling. I can't sleep. Between what Pearce said and what my mom said, I'm feeling anxious about my future. Is this what it'll be like? Will I have to hire professionals to make decisions for me so I don't screw up? Pearce's mom has a stylist who picks out her clothes. Will I have to have a stylist too? Will Pearce and I be able to choose where we live, and what kind of house we have, and how it's decorated? Or will someone do all that for us?

  That anxious feeling gets even worse as I think about that. I was finally living this independent life where I could make my own decisions, but now I feel like I'm heading backwards, no longer able to decide things for myself.

  I hear the door open and see Pearce walking in.

  "Pearce, what are you doing in here?"

  He joins me in bed, turning on his side to face me. "I didn't like the way you left just now. Something's wrong. What is it?"

  "Nothing."

  "Rachel." He pulls me into his arms. "You need to tell me."

  "I just…I'm panicking a little."

  "About the wedding?"

  "About everything." I hug his chest and breathe in his scent. That, and the feel of his arms around me, calms me.

  "What do you mean by 'everything'?"

  "Your world, and how everything has to be so perfect all the time. I'm not perfect. And I never will be."

  He lifts my face up to his. "I never said you had to be perfect. I don't expect you to be."

  "But the people around you do."

  "To some extent, yes."

  "I don't know what that means."

  "It means that sometimes you have to put on an elegant dress, appear at events, and suffer through mind-numbing conversations with very wealthy people who like to drone on about the yacht they just purchased. But doing those things doesn't mean you have to change who you are."

  "Will someone have to pick out my clothes?"

  "If it's for a public event where there will be photographers, then yes, it would be easier if you let a stylist help you. But as for your day-to-day life, you can wear whatever you'd like."

  "Does your mother always dress like she did that night we had dinner?"

  "Yes. But the last thing I want is to have you dress like my mother. She's old, for one. You're far too young to be seen in those suits she wears."

  "She looked nice when I saw her."

  "Perhaps so, but that's not your style. I want you to wear whatever clothes you feel comfortable in. But I'm guessing you could use some new ones."

  "Yeah, mine are pretty old. The past few years, I haven't had much of a budget for clothes."

  "You do now, so go shopping when we get back. Buy whatever you'd like."

  I smile at him. "Maybe you should do it. I liked the clothes you bought me for Las Vegas."

  "I had some help with that. If you'd like me to set you up with the woman who picked out those clothes, I'm happy to do so."

  "That might be a good idea. I'm not very good with fashion, especially high-end fashion."

  "I'll call her on Friday and set something up. So what else are you panicking about?"

  "I'm not anymore." I yawn. "I feel better now that you're here."

  "Do you want me to stay?"

  "Maybe until I fall asleep." I nestle into his arms.

  He kisses my head. "Goodnight, Rachel."

  When I wake up, he's gone and light is peeking through the drapes. The clock by my bed says it's just after seven. I hear some noise downstairs. My mom must be getting the turkey ready. I get up and pull my robe on and go down to the kitchen. My mom is there, also in her robe. Pearce is there too, but he's dressed in jeans and the sweater I picked out for him a week ago.

  "Rachel, you're up early," my mom says. "Want some coffee?"

  "Sure." I sit next to Pearce at the kitchen table. "What are you doing up?"

  "Keeping your mother company." He sips his coffee.

  "He's good company." She smiles at him. "And very helpful. He helped me stuff the turkey."

  "You did?" I ask, trying to imagine him stuffing a turkey.

  He shrugs. "I'd never done it before. I thought I should try it. I was telling your mother how you've made me try all these new things."

  He puts his arm around my shoulder and leans over to kiss my cheek. My mom notices and smiles.

  "And you chopped wood yesterday, so that was new." I scoot my chair over so I'm closer to him. "I'll have to come up with something else
new for you to do." I stop to think. "I know. Have you ever been to a country bar?"

  He laughs. "No. I can definitely say that I have not done that."

  "Then we'll go there tomorrow night. We'll probably run into some of my friends from high school. A lot of them moved away, but some are still here. I can show you off."

  "You should stop by and see Lisa while you're here," my mom says as she hands me a mug of coffee. "She had her baby a few weeks ago. A boy. I saw him at church last week. He's darling." She turns to Pearce. "Rachel and Lisa were on the swim team together."

  Pearce looks at me. "Your mother was saying how you were the best swimmer in your high school."

  "She still holds the record for most wins," my mom says.

  "You need to start swimming again," Pearce says.

  "I don't have time." I sip my coffee.

  "You will after you graduate. There's a gym just down the street from the loft. They have an Olympic-size pool. I'll get you a membership."

  "Really?" I set my mug down. "I would love that. That could be my Christmas gift."

  He pulls me into his side and kisses my head. "It's not a gift. It's a necessity. You need to be swimming again."

  My mom brings the coffee pot over and refills Pearce's cup. "Speaking of Christmas, what are your plans?"

  She directs the question to both of us.

  I glance at Pearce. "We were thinking of taking a trip. Pearce offered to take me to Italy as a graduation gift."

  Dammit. I shouldn't have said that. Now she's going to cry on Thanksgiving.

  But surprisingly, instead of crying, she smiles. "That sounds wonderful. You should do it."

  "You won't be upset if I miss Christmas?"

  "You've worked hard this year, honey. I think it'd be good for you to get away. Besides, you're here now, and we'll see you in a couple weeks for graduation, so at least we've had some time together. And maybe I'll come out there in January to help with the wedding."

  "What's everyone doing up?" My dad walks in, wearing jeans and his jacket. He must've been out working in the barn. He goes over to my mom and gives her a kiss. "Did you wake up the kids with your pots and pans?"

  I see Pearce smiling at the 'kids' comment. Basically anyone under 30 is a kid, according to my parents.