An Act of Love

by Marion Ekholm

  Richard pulled into the motel parking lot and turned off the engine. He didn’t move, and neither did she. Brant continued his low irregular chorus of snores. After a few minutes, Richard placed his arm on the back of the seat.

  “What do you plan to do with him?” he asked.

  “I guess he’ll be staying with me.”

  “There’s only one bed in the room.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Richard quickly faced front. “I’ll check and see if Lindy and Denny are ready to leave. His car’s still here.”

  Marley watched him exit the car and stride determinedly to the motel door. His bearing indicated total distaste for Brant and her decision to keep him in her room. As if she wanted to deal with an intoxicated Don Juan with intermittent memory loss. As if she had any choice.

  Richard returned, opened the back door and indicated she should join him. Slowly, she moved away from Brant and laid his head on the seat. Her shoulder was hot and sweaty where his flesh had touched hers. It was the first spot to cool when she got out of the car and into the evening breeze.

  “There’s a do-not-disturb sign on the doorknob,” Richard whispered.

  “Oh, great!” Marley fell back against the car and closed her eyes. “What do we do now?” The breeze had turned chilly, and she began to rub her arms. Her shirt and pants were summer weight and not much use against the change in temperature. Her entire wardrobe was behind locked doors ten feet away. It might as well be in Arizona for all the good it did. She opened her eyes as Richard slipped his jacket over her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling his personal warmth around her.

  “I guess the wedding’s back on.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Marley bristled. “They’re in love. They should get married.”

  Richard whipped his hand through his hair and glanced in the rear of the car. He looked back at her. “Great chemistry does not a marriage make.”

  “You should know, I suppose.”

  “Right. I’m the expert.” Richard pressed his hands against the small of his back and arched into them.

  She saw the strain in his face as he manipulated the muscles there. “Your back bothering you?” When he nodded, she said, “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

  The door to the motel opened and Dennis slipped out. “I heard you talking,” he said. “We’re staying here. Lindy finally fell sleep, and I don’t want to disturb her.”

  When he turned and started into the room, Marley said, “Could you get my suitcase and Brant’s?” He nodded and came back almost immediately with both suitcases and Brant’s shirts over his arm.

  “What now?” Richard asked. “The no-vacancy sign is flashing, so you can’t stay here.”

  “My house, I guess. As long as Lindy’s sleeping here, we can use her room.” She felt too tired to think of any other possibility. She slipped out of his jacket and returned it to him. “You’ll be able to pick up your car.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said without a drop of enthusiasm.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “HAS HE GONE?” Brant asked, sitting up in the backseat.

  “Yes.” Richard had retreated to his own car and driven away before Marley could get out of the passenger seat and onto the driveway. His swift departure had given her no chance to discuss the multiple problems of the night, and she’d wanted so much to have a sit-down talk with Richard.

  After watching his car until it disappeared behind the bend, she went back to her Toyota to get Brant, but he was out and on the driveway before she reached the back door. The rain had completely stopped a few hours before. Country scents of damp earth and flowers filled the air, and insects hummed nonstop in the background.

  “We staying here?” Brant stood, hands on hips, surveying the rambling house with its huge front porch.

  “We’ll use Lindy’s room, but be quiet. I don’t want anyone to hear us.” She went to get the suitcases, but Brant already had them.

  “You take the shirts,” he said. “I’ll take these.” He grasped one bag in each hand and started for the house, avoiding the puddles of water that remained on the path.

  She grabbed his shirts from the backseat and turned around. For a moment, she studied him. Something didn’t seem right. This sudden energy and coordination. How could he be drunk one minute and totally sober the next? She rushed up to him and swatted his arm. “Were you only acting drunk?”

  He stopped and grinned. “An award-worthy performance.”

  “Ooooh!” She threw his shirts onto the wet grass. “You...you...you...actor!” Right then she couldn’t think of anything more insulting. And after she’d been so concerned and worried about him. And so willing to spend extended time kissing him. How could he add to all her frustrations?

  “What are you doing?” He dropped the suitcases and rushed to his shirts, which lay in a puddle of water. “I ironed these.” As he stooped to pick them up, Marley used the pent-up emotions she’d suppressed all night and pushed. Brant went sprawling onto his back on the wet grass.

  “I hate you,” she said, dropping to smack him. Except he moved quickly out of reach. Her knees hit the saturated earth first and then she fell flat on her stomach, soaking herself.

  Undeterred, she lifted herself by yanking on his shirt. The pearl buttons popped, and his shirt snapped open. Brant captured her wrists. For several seconds he immobilized her; then he rolled her onto the wet grass, got up and stood over her. “Are we done now?”

  After a few seconds, he held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. For a moment they stood facing each other, both breathing hard, until Brant bent to pick up the shirts. He stayed clear of her, though, so there was no possibility of her knocking him over again. He handed them to her. “I’ll get the bags.”

  She headed for the house. The chill of the night oozed through her wet clothes, and she was freezing by the time she reached the porch. She hoped no one had witnessed their tussle. She couldn’t handle one more embarrassment.

  She took out her house key. She paused when Brant asked, “Is there an alarm?”

  “No, only a big dog. Buster won’t do anything if I go in first.” She gave Buster a rough brush with her hands when he greeted her inside the living room. “Nice boy.” One lamp gave a soft glow with plenty of light to maneuver between the large pieces of furniture. She glanced at Brant making friendly with Buster. When Brant looked up, she placed a finger over her lips before heading for her grandfather’s side of the house. As long as Poppy hadn’t worn his hearing aids to bed, they’d be able to sneak up the staircase without waking him.

  At the top of the stairs, Marley flipped on the hall light and walked quietly past her room, where Aunt Effie snored. Hundreds of eyes stared at her as she entered Lindy’s room. Brant, behind her, sucked in his breath. “This belongs to the adult who’s getting married Saturday?”

  Marley considered commenting, but decided against it. She was past defending her sister. “You can use that bathroom.” Marley pointed to her left, then tossed Brant’s shirts, which had by now lost their hangers, over several stuffed animals. “I’ll take the bathroom across the hall.”

  “That my bed?” Brant said, indicating the canopy bed, the only one in the room.

  “Whoever gets to it first.”

  Brant let the suitcases go, discarded his shirt and dropped his pants, revealing baby blue boxers. In seconds he was sitting on the bed, struggling to get his boots off at the same time.

  Too tired to even think straight, Marley went over to her suitcase and pulled out a summer nightshirt. When she looked up, Brant was down to his boxers. His near nudity didn’t seem to bother him, and she was not about to remark about it.

  “Where you sleeping?”

  Marle
y pointed to a corner of the room. “I’ll get a sleeping bag.” By the time she washed, dressed in her nightshirt and collected the camping gear from the hall closet, Brant was sound asleep, sprawled across the top of the floral bedspread on his stomach. She stopped and watched him for several seconds before sighing and heading to the corner.

  Marley kicked several animals to the side and collapsed onto a thin mattress and a down-filled sleeping bag. She grabbed a stuffed bear for a pillow and was asleep the moment her head hit the bear’s belly.

  * * *

  MARLEY AWOKE TO an annoying tickle on her face. She brushed it away, but it kept coming back, first on her nose, then her forehead and finally her chin. She opened one eye and looked at Brant. He tapped her nose with a whiskered calico cat before tossing the stuffed animal off to the side.

  “Good morning, Sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

  “What time is it?” She turned over onto her stomach and considered going back to sleep.

  “Time to get up. I already showered and shaved.” Brant bestowed a resounding slap on her rear.

  “Stop manhandling me.” She flipped over and sat up.

  Brant leaned against the bureau with one of the bed pillows behind his back. His arms were locked around his bare legs. He’d changed into khaki shorts. At least he hadn’t worn his threadbare cutoffs. “Shall we clear the air?” He paused, but not long enough that she could reply. “I’m not the only man handler in this room. Look at these bloodied wrists.”

  She turned and faced the other direction. “You deserved that and double. You weren’t even drunk when you began getting friendly.”

  “Don’t recall any complaints.” He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but knocking me over?” He leaned closer. “You appeared ready to scratch my eyes out last night. Lucky for you that ground was soft and wet, or you’d be facing a big lawsuit. I could have broken something.”

  She looked back at him. “Your neck would have been a nice touch.”

  He picked up one of Lindy’s tiny pandas and tossed it at her. She knocked it away.

  “I could use a cup of coffee.” Marley yawned and stretched her arms over her head. She brought them down immediately when Brant’s eyes flicked with too much attention in her direction.

  “I smell bacon. Sounds like your family’s up. Should we join them?” He started to get up.

  “No!” She placed a hand on Brant’s knee, trying to soften her quick rejection. “I mean, we do have a lot of things, personal stuff, to discuss, and we can’t do it with everyone else around.”

  “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Should we slip down the stairs unbeknownst, or tell your family we stayed in this room last night before we leave?”

  “Let’s see if slipping out works.” She extracted a pair of green shorts and a matching sleeveless top from her suitcase and took them to the bathroom to dress. When she returned, Brant had his suitcase on the bed.

  “I’m kind of in a predicament. All my shirts are filthy and my one pair of pants is covered with mud.” He looked up at her. “You have a laundry handy?”

  “What about shoes?” Marley asked. She had a dreadful vision of him wearing his black boots with his shorts.

  He drew out his sandals and waved them in the air. Marley turned and rummaged through Lindy’s closet. “Here.” She handed him an oversize T-shirt in faded navy blue with PITT emblazoned across the front in a dull gold. “I used to use this as a nightshirt before I gave it to Lindy.”

  “Great. I’m reduced to wearing lady’s jammies. Should I be concerned about this?” He pointed to the letters. “Does P-I-T-T refer to pit bulls, or is it some kind of homage to Brad Pitt?”

  “Neither,” Marley said with a chuckle. “It’s my college logo for the University of Pittsburgh. Did you attend college?”

  “Yes, Y-A-L-E.”

  She looked at him, furrowing her brow in disbelief. “Yale?”

  “My goodness, she can spell!”

  “Yale,” she repeated. “I pictured you more as a community college type. Say, majoring in horse manure.”

  Brant started to laugh, and he didn’t stop until they began sneaking down the stairs with their dirty clothes and their suitcases.

  * * *

  OVER BREAKFAST, MARLEY told Brant about all the drama he’d missed while doing his drunk act. They had deposited their clothes at the laundry, and the proprietor had promised to have them ready before noon. Since they had time to waste, they relaxed and talked in an outdoor café. With no more rain clouds in the sky, the sun began burning off some of the humidity.

  “What is it with you and drinking?” she asked.

  “You see how stupid I was when I was acting drunk?”

  Marley nodded.

  “Well, that’s how I am when I drink. Stupid. No control. Can’t remember a thing and wake up with a splitting headache.” He looked up. “The first and only time it happened was in college. Something no one would let me forget so...I limit myself to one drink and nurse it most of the night. I need to be in control and won’t ever let that embarrassment happen again.”

  “You ever consider your drunk performance could backfire and give you the same embarrassment?”

  Brant took a sip of coffee and glanced up at the sky. “No. But that’s something to consider. I’ll have to think about it. Last night, I kept away from the liquor completely.”

  “No. You had at least one Bloody Mary. I know.”

  A smile was starting. “Really. How would you know that?”

  She leaned across the table and whispered, “I tasted Tabasco.”

  “And didn’t it taste good?” Brant moved closer. “I had a virgin Mary. No vodka.”

  Marley felt a heightened awareness, quite different from the comfortable feeling she’d had with Richard. Somehow sipping coffee while talking to Brant was the most natural thing to do, but on a heightened scale. She sat back and changed the subject. “Why Yale? I didn’t take you for Ivy League.”

  “You didn’t take me for anything better than a bargain-basement hobo.”

  If he wanted a denial, he was out of luck. She waited for him to readjust in his seat, lean on the table and continue.

  “My father’s family were some of the original settlers in Arizona, but my mother came from Connecticut. We used to stay with my grandparents outside of New Haven, during the summer. I got to really like the beaches and thought acting would be a lot more fun than horse manure at some community college.” He paused. “And of course there was a girl, a neighbor of my grandparents.”

  “How did that work out?”

  He glanced at her. “It didn’t,” he said before taking another sip of coffee.

  They sat silently for a long time watching the activity on the street, then Marley asked, “Are you able to make a living as an actor?” Quickly, she amended her remark. “I mean, why Phoenix? Why not Hollywood or New York?”

  “I’ve acted on TV, movies and the stage, but for the most part I’m a narrator.”

  “You lost me.”

  “You’ve seen commercials with only a voice in the background? I do that and things like promotional material, pretty much what the Civic Center hired me to do. Phoenix is home, but I go wherever I’m needed. As you know, Sky Harbor is an easy commute from our apartment complex, so I can get an airplane anytime. What I hope to expand into is more books on tape. I have a friend from college who writes mysteries, and I read them for a recording company. His latest has several dialects that I’m practicing to perfect.”

  “The accents?” There had actually been a purpose to all those annoying flips from Texas cowboy to British count? Maybe if she’d known...

  “Sorry I was driving you batty with it, but my voice is my meal ticket. It pays the bills. What about you?”

&nbs
p; Her life couldn’t be more dull compared with his. “I manage an accounting department for a large company in downtown Phoenix.”

  “You like doing that?”

  She sighed. “It pays the bills.” Again they had a long pause with no need to rush into conversation. All this time she’d avoided Brant. Who would have thought he was actually an interesting person to talk to as well as someone she’d like to know better?

  “What made you decide to follow me here? You could have left a message for me to call you about the ring.”

  “Would you have called me back?”

  Marley cocked her head. “Probably not.”

  “When I phoned and got your mother, my only concern was returning the ring. But I couldn’t tell her that. We got to talking and I played the part of the fiancé, distressed because we were apart. That’s when she invited me to the wedding. What could I say?” He looked at Marley, his palms in the air. For the first time she noticed his eyes were a dark blue, not black the way she’d thought at first.

  “I said, why not? It sounded like fun. I figured you’d be so ticked off, since you gave me the evil eye every time we met, and I wanted to see your reaction. But,” he said, raising a hand to silence her before she could reply, “my sisters got hold of me and...” He pointed to his hairless face and the attractive haircut.

  “I had kept the hair long after I finished my last movie, and it suited my hobo disguise. But I figured you’d prefer this.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t dislike your hair.” He looked presentable, something her family might appreciate. “But I admit, I’m not fond of beards.”

  “I don’t like them, either.” He rubbed his smooth cheek. “They itch.”

  A waitress approached and asked if they’d like anything else to eat. “Yes,” Marley said, happy to change the subject. “French fries and gravy.”

  Brant grimaced.

  “A Pennsylvania treat.”

  He glanced away, still looking as though he had tasted something foul.

  “So you have sisters. Any brothers?” she asked.

  “No. Three sisters, and I’m the baby so I’m henpecked to death.”