Berry Picking by Dara Girard Page B

wasn't sure she was ready to share yet.
    “Well, it seems I've done all the talking,” he said. “Tell me about your family.”
    “There's not much to say,” Paula hedged. He seemed so regular she didn't want to shock him.
    “I doubt it. I told you about my grandmother and her berry patch.”
    Paula hesitated then said, “My mother was my father's second wife.”
    He nodded. “My father had two wives. His first one died.”
    “My father had three wives at the same time,” she clarified.
    “Oh.”
    “I was brought up in a polygamous household.” And when it became too contentious, her mother took her and her four siblings to live in Canada and then to America where they'd thrived. Her father visited, but rarely.
    “Oh. My great-grandfather, the one from Ghana, could only afford one wife. He wasn't wealthy. I don't think I could handle three women at once. One woman is enough for me.”
    Paula smiled, wanting to believe him. Most men wanted more than one woman. “How about a mistress?”
    His mouth quirked in a quick grin. “Is that a trick question?”
    “No.”
    Conrad thought for a moment then again shook his head. “No, one woman is all I need.”
    Probably because he was so awkward around them, Paula thought. If he were savvier he'd change his stance. If he had women coming at him, he'd want his share. But perhaps that's why he made a good catch. He wouldn't be the kind of man a woman needed to worry about. But then again he could be lying.
    “How about you?”
    Paula took a sip of her drink then carefully set it down. “Me?”
    “Would you want more than one man?”
    “No, one's enough for me.”
    “Are you sure?'
    “Perfectly.” She had a friend who was juggling two guys who adored her. Instead of feeling envious, Paula felt stressed at the thought of trying to keep two men happy at the same time.
    “I guess that's another thing we have in common.”
    “Yes.”
    Paula was relieved that Conrad didn't make her background seem like something strange or weird. When she'd first arrived, new friends and acquaintances treated her life like a curiosity. From what he shared, it was evident that his family was more established in Western ways than hers. He was the eldest of two and had grown up in Pennsylvania to a surgeon, his father and scientist, his mother. Paula on the other hand, had twelve brothers and sisters. The first wife had four children, the second wife, her mother, had five (she lost one in childbirth), the third wife had three. And she had scores of relatives, all envious of their American ties, always begging for sponsorship or money. Once she’d finished her university studies, she'd given what she could, but it never seemed enough. Soon the requests no longer came by airmail, but filled her e-mail on her computer, forcing her to close her account for awhile.
    “You can only do what you can, Paula,” her mother always told her. “Besides, your father is well established back home, and he and his brothers are all doing well. Live your life. Stop feeling guilty for your blessings.” But she had felt guilty. Guilty that life for her was one without much struggle, and she cherished the freedom she had, as a woman, not having to face being married off as soon as she came of age. Although she struggled with that freedom, because her mother thought it was wrong. Everyone expected her to marry and she hadn't succeeded yet. In truth, she hadn't had as much interest in it as she should.
    Thankfully, she had come to terms with what she could and couldn’t do for others, and over the years the requests had slowed to a trickle. Her status as an unmarried woman, however, continued to be a sore spot.
    They chatted some more then she saw something in Conrad’s jacket move. At first she was certain she was hallucinating. “Why would anything be moving under his coat?” she wondered, sure it had been the trick of the light. But then she saw it again.
    “What's that?” she asked.
    Conrad glanced