Free His Wife for a While by Donna Fasano Page B

gray cloud had moved over them, dimming the cheerful friendliness that had been between them only a moment before.
    "These trees still bear fruit," he said, obviously attempting to ease the awkwardness. "It's just a pain in the rear to get at the apples."
    Chelsea glanced upward into the high branches and tried to imagine what it was like to climb the tall ladders necessary for harvesting the fruit.
    "Here," Ben said, "sit down and let's have some lunch."
    There was something in his voice that made her wary. She busied herself pulling food from the basket and fought to control the antsiness that was building inside her. She knew he'd brought her out here to talk. He'd want her to tell him all about herself.
    Chelsea handed him a sandwich and forced her lips to curl into a smile, but she could feel the tightness around her mouth.
    Maybe if she kept him busy talking about his family, about his childhood, then she wouldn't have to do much talking herself.
    "Ben," she began, her voice tentative. "Tell me what it was like growing up at Reed's Orchard."
    "Well, between May and Granddad, I had a lot of love," he told her. "Growing up on a farm, there were plenty of chores to do. But I played as hard as I worked."
    She easily imagined him running in the sunshine and the fresh air. Most of the apartments and row homes where she'd spent most of her childhood didn't have yards, so she'd spent a great deal of time indoors. Chelsea shook the drab thought from her mind.
    "When I was a baby, my parents and I lived in a house not too far from Aunt May's," Ben said.
    At the mention of Ben's parents, Chelsea swallowed the bite of sandwich without even tasting the sweet baked ham. It wasn't that she didn't want to hear about his childhood, but she was scared to death that he might ask her about her own parents.
    He didn't seem to notice her alarm. In fact, his gaze was trained on the horizon and his voice took on a wistful quality as he continued, "Apparently my father was something of a daredevil. He liked to show off, and kind of got a thrill out of living dangerously. Didn't like authority, that kind of thing. And I guess my mom was attracted to bad boys. My mom and dad were high school sweethearts and they married as soon as they earned their diplomas. My dad came to work for my grandfather, but Mom told me stories of how he was always getting into mischief. Needless to say, he and my grandfather didn't get along."
    Ben was involved with telling his story and Chelsea found her eyes traveling the length of his strong jaw line. She liked the way his green eyes twinkled when he smiled, and she liked his straight, narrow nose. She found his features exceptionally pleasing. She hoped their baby would resemble him.
    "My dad was fooling around one day on one of Granddad's tractors," Ben said. "He drove it up an incline that was too steep and the tractor rolled over. Dad didn't survive the accident."
    "Oh, Ben," she said, sympathy welling inside her. "I'm so sorry." The words escaped before she even realized it.
    "I was just a few weeks old, so I don't remember him at all." Ben inhaled and turned his gaze on her. "But my mom kept lots of pictures and she told me all about him. I know they loved each other very much. I could tell from the way Mom's eyes lit when she spoke of him. I feel like I know him." His tone lowered when he spoke the last sentence, almost as if he were speaking to himself. Then he flushed a little. "I guess that sounds silly to you."
    "No," she told him. She swallowed. "Not at all." She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him, uncomfortable with the emotion that threatened to overflow.
    "So tell me about…"
    "Your mom? Tell me about her." Her demand cut him off with a terseness that bordered on rude; however, he didn't seem insulted and only smiled in response.
    "Oh, my mom was beautiful." His smiled widened. "I remember that she was quick to laugh. And she loved music. She had a melodic voice