Chapter 2

It had been easy, to Agatha’s astonishment. He had showed her how to grip the ladder above and pull herself up, stepping up one rung at a time. The trunk actually leaned so that she was tilted toward the tree. She blushed, thinking of what it would look like underneath her, but, of course, he was beside her. She pulled her own basket up, kneeling on the edge of the platform. It seemed much higher from up here.

“Blankets!” he grunted. “Be right back.”

She hadn’t seen the thick rope that hung from a branch above the tree house to the ground. He slid down it, and she watched in amazement. He looked very athletic. He went to the trunk of the car and brought back several blankets. He tried throwing them up to her, but that didn’t work as they came unfolded and fluttered back down. Then he rolled them all up and tied one of the ropes around them. She pulled them up while he climbed again. She watched as he made a nest for them and felt her stomach acting up again. More things could be done on that thick layer of blankets than eating or talking.

She was shocked that she’d thought of that and blushed. He didn’t see her do that, though. He was busy setting things out.

“You’re a good cook,” sighed Bobby. He was lying on one side, facing her. All the food was between them and he’d just polished off a piece of the barbecued chicken that some faceless person at the IGA had cooked and put in a warmer just before she bought it.

“I have to confess I didn’t cook that,” she said. “I bought it at the store. I tried to cook, but it didn’t work out well.” She felt better for telling him the truth.

“In that case, I don’t mind telling you those sandwiches came from the deli in town,” said Bobby, grinning. He’d brought the most delicious ham sandwiches she’d ever tasted. “I couldn’t get away with cooking anything, because my mother would have wanted to know why I was doing it.”

“I just don’t understand how your mother could object to you having a picnic with me,” said Agatha.

“Remember the first day you met me?” he asked, reaching for some potato chips.

“Yes,” she said.

“If I’d asked you to go on a picnic that day, would you have agreed?”

“Of course not,” she admitted.

“So ... what changed?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“We talked a little bit,” he offered. “We got to know each other a little bit and I wasn’t so scary anymore.”

Now she felt bad that she was lying to him again. He had jumped to the wrong conclusion ... that she liked being with him. She couldn’t admit that the only reason she was here, in this tree house, was because she was waiting for him to offer to have sex with her if she paid him. Her plans were to ruin his life. He went blithely on, ignorant that he was being stalked.

“I’m quite sure that if you and my mother had a chance to chat, you’d like each other. Communication bridges gaps like that.” He reached for another olive and popped it into his mouth.

She took a bite and chewed slowly, so she wouldn’t have to say anything. He was a handsome man, she admitted to herself unhappily. Lying there, relaxed, he looked good. And he was so nice! He hadn’t done any of the things she’d expected him to do ... had been prepared to defend herself from. It was almost like they were just ... having a picnic!

“Why haven’t you started dating again?” he asked.

She almost choked, but managed not to spew half eaten sandwich all over the place. He waited until her mouth was cleared and she took a drink from the bottle of Coke he’d given her, to clear her throat.

“I could never do that,” she said.

“Why on earth not?” he asked. “As I recall, most of the vows I’ve heard exchanged said something about until death do them part.” A shadow came over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

“It’s all right,” she said, trying to be polite. She felt a little guilty that she didn’t miss Harry more than she did.

“What I mean is, it’s been several years. You’re still young. You could go on with life. I’m just curious as to why you haven’t.”

“You’re not married,” she pointed out.

“True,” he said. “But not because I don’t want to be. I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”

“You’ve had dozens of women,” she said. She paled. She couldn’t believe she’d said that!

“Dozens might be a little on the optimistic side,” he said, without missing a beat. “I’ve been friends with lots of women, but it never seemed to lead in the direction of marriage.” He saw her pale face and his intuition kicked in. “That’s part of why you don’t like me,” he said. “Because of all those rumors about me and my lady friends.”

“Well?” she said weakly. “You just admitted it.”

“What did I admit?” he asked, looking at her with a level gaze.

“I suppose you were just trying to find a wife,” she said stiffly. Her body ached all over, the result of sitting primly, upright, with her legs tucked back decently under her skirt. She didn’t lie down, like the man across from her.

“Maybe,” he said calmly. “How did you go about finding your husband?”

That question took her aback. He seemed to be asking a serious question.

“He proposed and I accepted,” she said. That was how she remembered it.

“It was that easy?” He looked doubtful. “I’ve offered to marry several women. They all turned me down.”

Now that was news! Wouldn’t Gladys and Ethyl salivate about that! Then it occurred to her she couldn’t tell them that. They’d want to know how she knew. She certainly couldn’t tell them it had come straight from the horse’s mouth.

“That must have been painful,” she said, just to say something.

“Not really,” he said. “Well, a little bit, I guess. They all explained it very well.”

“Did they?”

“Yes.” He reached for another olive. She watched him bite it and then chew. “Though sometimes you just have to take a woman’s word for it, when they say something like you’re just not the right man.”

Agatha was confused. He seemed to be telling the truth. But if that was the case ... where did all those babies come from? Surely no woman who had decided not to marry a man would get herself into that kind of situation. That led her back to the sex for money idea. But that made even less sense. Why would any woman hire a man to get her pregnant? None of this was making sense. Especially since he seemed to be so nice! His next question confused her even more.

“What does it feel like to be in love?” he asked. “Like you were in love with Harry.”

“Love?” Her voice quivered a bit.

“Yes. I know what it’s like to love my mamma and my sisters. But that’s different.”

“You’ve never been in love?” Her voice was weak.

“I don’t know, for sure,” he said. “It’s hard to explain. I feel things ... but I don’t know if it’s love or not.”

She could understand that. That was what was terrifying her at the moment. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she wasn’t sure she’d ever loved Harry at all. She’d known she was supposed to. She’d even tried. Except she didn’t know how to make that magical thing she’d heard of happen. She’d been happy. No ... she’d been content. But she couldn’t really answer his question, because she wasn’t sure she had ever been in love.

“He made me happy,” she tried.

“Lots of women have made me happy,” said Bobby. “There has to be more to it than that.”

“Oh I don’t know!” she said nervously. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded sorry. “I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories. I know you must miss him horribly.”

“Yes,” she said, because that was what she was expected to say. She felt bad about lying.

Agatha drove carefully as she left the state park. She didn’t know how to feel about what had happened. He had freely admitted that he had lots of lady friends, but his claim that he was exploring relationships with an eye toward marriage put it all in a different light. And he’d been a perfect gentleman around her, other than lying indolently across from her looking handsome enough to charm even Gladys. She giggled with a trace of hysteria, trying to imagine Gladys in that tree house. All she could imagine was Gladys huffing and puffing, trying to pull her bulk up those rickety boards nailed to the tree.

Had he really proposed to several women? Which ones? It couldn’t be the ones who had the babies. That just didn’t make any sense of any kind.

As she pulled into her garage she felt a little sad.

If she hadn’t been on a mission, she might have had a very nice time.

Bobby’s thought processes were similar, in some ways, as he drove away from the lake. He couldn’t figure Agatha Roberts out. She was still young. She’d be pretty if she tried to be. The few times he’d seen her smile, she’d looked pretty. She was so sour!

And yet, she must be interested. Why would she have gone on the picnic if she wasn’t interested? But then, while they were together, she seemed to fight that interest.

It was a puzzle. He was intrigued.

On impulse, he turned toward Erica’s house. The water at the lake had looked good. Erica was complaining that her back hurt all the time, because of the double weight that the baby and her breasts caused. Maybe he could talk her into going swimming.

His mind drifted back to Agatha. Yes ... she was a puzzle ... and Bobby liked puzzles. He had no way of knowing it, nor did Agatha Roberts, but her plan was actually working ... in a way.