Reckless Moon

by Doreen Owens Malek

  She smiled. “I did something else just now with you.”

  Bram tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear and asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course. What are you worried about? Do you think I’m going to disintegrate?” She tilted her head back and peered at him in the pale sunlight filtering through the window. “Am I the first…beginner…you’ve ever been with?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I am,” she said triumphantly. “I knew it!”

  He smiled at her victorious tone. “I made it a practice to avoid them after your father threw me out of his house.”

  That wasn’t the reason, Beth thought. He’d only wanted to sleep with women who wouldn’t demand, or even expect, involvement. That is, until now.

  She reached up and touched his face, drawing her fingers through the thicket of his beard. “You’re not such a tough guy after all, do you know that?”

  His lips twisted. “I thought I told you to go to sleep.”

  Beth kissed the base of his throat. “I’m not tired.”

  He ran his hands under the sheet, seeking her body. “No?”

  “No,” she confirmed, putting her head back submissively as he bent to kiss her.

  And she showed him that she wasn’t.

  * * *

  When Beth woke hours later the lush sunlight of midday was cascading across the bed, and Sunday quiet filled the house. She sat up, confused, and then remembered. She looked around for Bram and saw him sitting in a chair beside the window, wearing only his pants.

  She got up and found a robe in her closet, slipping into it. She went to him and knelt next to the chair, putting her arms around his waist.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Or should I say, good afternoon?”

  He said nothing, his hand going to the back of her head, his fingers moving slowly through the heavy mass of her hair.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Beth asked. “I have eggs, toast, and coffee.”

  He gently put her hands away and stood up. “No, thanks. I think I’d better be going.”

  “Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

  He turned to look at her, and Beth felt a sinking sensation in her stomach at the expression on his face. “Bethany, we have to talk.”

  “Talk away,” Beth said blithely, trying for lightness.

  He sighed. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Just say it straight out,” Beth answered evenly. “That’s usually best.”

  “I don’t think you should attach too much importance to last night,” he said, looking away from her.

  “Too much importance?” Beth repeated dumbly.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was still a little drunk, and feeling low, and grateful that you helped me out, and you were...

  “In love with you,” Beth stated flatly.

  He tensed. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  “Beth, you don’t have enough experience to make a judgment You can have fine, satisfying sex with any number of men. Just because we were good partners doesn’t mean we’re in love.”

  “You can rationalize it any way you want, Bram. I love you, or I wouldn’t have gone to bed with you, and you know it. Don’t you love me?”

  “I don’t love anybody,” he said flatly.

  Beth stared at him, surprised at her own calm. On some level she must have known this was coming or she wouldn’t be able to handle it so well.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said evenly. “You couldn’t have made love to me the way you did if you felt nothing. You’re talking yourself out of it because you’re afraid.”

  “Afraid?” he said, his eyes becoming hard.

  “Yes, afraid. Afraid to give yourself, afraid to become entangled with a woman who might trick you. You were afraid of me when I was a teenager, and you’re afraid of me now.”

  He blinked and turned his head.

  I’m right, Beth thought. I know him, and I’m right. Bram was not a liar; he wouldn’t deny the accuracy of her perceptions, but rather take refuge in silence.

  Beth moved forward, seizing her advantage. “I think you love me, Bram. I think you always have. You just refuse to admit it, even to yourself, because you think it will make you weak and dependent like your father.”

  He looked back at her. “I thought your degree was in law, not psychiatry.”

  “I don’t need a degree to figure you out, darling. To me, you’re as transparent as glass. You explained yourself last night in the car.”

  He eyed her intently for a moment, and then dropped his eyes. “Believe what you want.”

  “I will.”

  He looked around uncomfortably. “Do you have something I could wear back to the house? My shirt is in rags.”

  Without a word Beth went to Marion’s room and got a shirt of Jerry’s that was hanging in the closet. She returned and handed it to Bram.

  He put it on, rolling up the sleeves, which were too short.

  “I’ll drive you home,” she said.

  “I can walk,” he replied shortly, heading for the door. He turned on the threshold and said, “You’ll still go on representing Curtis Broadleaf?”

  “Of course,” Beth said smoothly.

  He nodded, studying her once more, looking as if he were about to say something. Then he thought better of it, opened the door, and left.

  Beth walked to the window, which looked out over the lawn, and waited for Bram to pass on the street. When his tall, broad shouldered figure came into view, she watched him, his long stride, the erect carriage of his back and head. When he was out of sight she sat in the chair he had occupied minutes before and thought about what to do.

  He wouldn’t pursue her any more; she was sure of that. He had accomplished his goal of getting her into bed, but he didn’t like the emotions the experience had aroused in him.

  Beth tapped her index finger on the upholstered arm of the chair.

  But she wasn’t giving up on him. Not by a long shot.

  CHAPTER 7

  Monday was very busy for Beth, and she had to put the subject of Bram on the back burner until dinnertime. She had spent the morning in a hearing on a custody case referred to her by Hal’s cousin, and the afternoon doing research on a torts problem involving a company one of her clients wanted to sue. By the time her phone rang at five-thirty she was hungry and tired, but satisfied with the work she’d done.

  “Attorney Forsyth,” she announced crisply.

  “Hi, Attorney Forsyth. This is Mother Crawford-Harris. What’s new?”

  “Mindy,” Beth said, half laughing. “If you call me on this line you have to expect to get the full treatment.”

  “Hey, I was impressed. You sounded very professional.”

  “I’m not feeling very professional at the moment. My stomach is growling.”

  “Feed it.”

  “I intend to.”

  “And once you do, expect a visit from yours truly this evening. Hal has a zoning meeting and I am hiring a babysitter and fleeing the nest.”

  “Bad day?”

  “You might say so. The baby screamed for four hours and your godchild fed the dinner hamburger to the dog.”

  “Oh, dear. Well, I’m glad you’ll be coming over tonight. I have something to discuss with you.”

  “Oh, oh. Sounds ominous. Can you give me a hint?”

  “Um, let’s see. There was a reckless moon out Saturday night.”

  “I see. That’s a big help. Care to elaborate?”

  “A reckless moon releases your inhibitions, makes you give vent to your feelings.”

  “Gotcha. We’re talking about Bram Curtis. Sweetie, I can’t wait to hear the details, but right now I have to go because Tracy is trying to climb into the sink. See you about seven. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Beth hung up and stretched, trying to remember what was in the refrigerator. She recalled leftover pot roast and a pound of apples. Neither prospect h
eld much appeal. She smiled as she rose to go to the kitchen. Bram’s ears would be burning tonight.

  * * *

  Mindy arrived bearing a half gallon of ice cream. She headed directly for the kitchen.

  “I thought you were on a diet,” Beth said.

  “I am. Why do you think I brought it over here to eat? Hal watches me like a Doberman on patrol.”

  “I shouldn’t contribute to your delinquency,” Beth said, going to the cupboard for dishes. “What about your self-control?”

  “I have no self-control. Give me the bowls.”

  Beth deposited the crockery on the table and went to a drawer for spoons.

  “So what’s up with Bram?” Mindy asked, taking a spoon from Beth and digging into the fudge ripple.

  “He spent the night here Saturday.”

  Mindy paused in mid scoop. After a moment she said, “Should I be happy about that, or what?”

  “Wait until you hear the rest of it. On Sunday he announced that I shouldn’t ‘attach too much importance’ to what had happened; we were just good bed partners, nothing more.”

  Mindy licked a streak of fudge from her spoon. “Beth, don’t take this the wrong way, but surely you don’t think you’re the first woman who’s heard that on the morning after.”

  “No, I don’t. But if you could have seen the way he acted, Mindy, you’d know that this was different.”

  “How?”

  “He’s running. He’s running because he’s in love with me and he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

  Mindy stared at her. “Wow. Nothing wrong with your ego, is there?”

  “I’m certain I know what I’m talking about.”

  Mindy rolled her eyes. “He’s a ladykiller, Beth.”

  Beth slapped her cheek in mock surprise. “No!”

  Mindy shot the carton of ice cream across the table to Beth. It flew across the Formica like a puck on ice. Beth stopped it with her hand.

  “He’s used to one night stands,” Mindy persisted. “You could get hurt if you insist on making it something more in your mind.”

  “It is more. Mindy, you’ve known him a long time; have you ever seen him pursue anyone the way he pursued me?”

  “No,” Mindy admitted. “But that may have been the lure of the unattainable. You gave him more trouble than usual, that’s all.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m trying to be frank with you. I wouldn’t be doing you a favor if I told you fairy tales.” Mindy watched as Beth helped herself to some ice cream. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Nothing. A good campaigner knows when to retreat.”

  Mindy groaned. “Where did you get that? Translating Caesar’s Commentaries in Galsworthy’s Latin class?”

  “I can read Bram very well. It would be a mistake to push him now; he has to realize how much he needs me, misses me on his own.”

  “Oh, boy. Watch out. The last time you got that determined look on your face we both wound up suspended for setting all those guinea pigs free.”

  “I was right then, and I’m right now.”

  “I feel like calling Bram up and warning him. The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Beth demanded, outraged.

  Mindy held up her hands. “I intend to remain neutral.” She clicked her spoon against the side of the bowl. “What does Marion think of all this?”

  “She doesn’t know about it. I haven’t talked to her since before it happened.”

  “I meant, what does she think of you and Bram?”

  Beth snorted. “She’s in marriage world with Jerry the stockbroker, perfect husband and perfect man. Bram is about as far removed from Jerry as you can get. Marion hasn’t changed since we were kids. She still thinks Bram is bad news.”

  “If she can’t understand your attraction to Bram, she should see a doctor. I don’t care how much she loves perfect Jerry, any woman on earth could appreciate the lure that Bram exerts. He’s like some dark, exotic mystery waiting to be explored.”

  Beth stared at her friend, surprised and touched. “That’s it, exactly.”

  Mindy made a face. “Don’t sound so shocked. Do you think because I’m spending my days reading Golden Books and changing diapers that I’m incapable of poetic sentiment?”

  Beth grinned, chastised. “Certainly not.”

  “Anyway, don’t be too hard on Marion. She loves you and she tries, but she’s just like your father.”

  Beth shrugged. “Sometimes I think I underestimate her. The other night she asked me if Bram took my breath away. I wouldn’t have thought she could even formulate the question.”

  “It’s hard to believe Jerry ever took anyone’s breath away, including Marion’s,” Mindy observed dryly.

  “Jerry’s a nice enough guy,” Beth qualified hastily, feeling disloyal to her sister. “But he’s very straight and conservative. Bram, on the other hand, quit school, joined the merchant marine and sailed around the world. Now he has the scars and the cynicism to show for it. How could a woman who married Jerry Westfield possibly understand Bram? Marion thinks Bram is wild, primitive, and dangerous. She’s afraid of him.”

  “And you?”

  “I think he’s wild, primitive, and dangerous. And I’m crazy about him.”

  Mindy sighed heavily, closing the carton of ice cream and rising to put it in the freezer. “My friend, I hate to tell you this but I think you’re in for a hell of a lime.”

  “I know that. I won’t get him easily, if I get him at all.” She met Mindy’s eyes squarely. “But I have to try.”

  Mindy turned from the refrigerator and faced her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Beth smiled slyly. “I’m glad you asked that question.”

  Mindy closed her eyes. “I’m already sorry I said that.”

  “Do you remember when you told me about Jacinta, the housekeeper who used to work for Bram’s father? She’s a nurse at Johnson now.”

  “Sure. What about her?”

  “What ward does she work in? I want to go to see her.”

  “She’s in pediatrics, the three to eleven shift. Why do you want to talk to her?”

  “I want to ask her about Bram.”

  “Good luck. Do you think you’re just going to waltz in there and give her the third degree about her former employer’s kid? Do you imagine you’ll get her to tell all, like one of those lady cops on television?”

  “She may talk to me if I tell her the whole story. Everybody says she really liked Bram.”

  Mindy nodded. “She and your mother were his biggest boosters. He didn’t have many.”

  “Something happened to drive Bram out of his home, and I think it caused the attitude he has toward women now. He can’t trust me—he really has trouble trusting anybody. His stepmother gave him a hard time, and I feel that was the beginning of his problems.”

  “The beginning of yours, you mean.” Mindy leaned back against the refrigerator and folded her arms. “There’s no guarantee that Jass knows anything.”

  Beth pushed her hair back from her face. “She was living in the same house with Bram all those years. She has to know more than I do.” Suddenly she sat up straighter. “I forgot to tell you about the mouse tattoo.”

  “Mouse tattoo?” Mindy said, looking at her strangely. “You mean mouse as in Mickey?”

  Beth shook her head emphatically. “No, no, listen. Have you ever heard Bram call me ‘mouse’?”

  Mindy’s brows arched. “Yes, I did notice that. I always meant to ask you why.”

  “I told him about the time I was one of the dancing mice in the Christmas pageant.”

  “Yeah,” Mindy said, grinning hugely. “You crashed into the tree and knocked off about ten ornaments.”

  Beth stared at her with exaggerated patience.

  “All right, all right,” Mindy grumbled. “You were saying?”

  “The other night I noticed he had a small tattoo on the ins
ide of his arm.”

  Mindy shuddered. “I hate those things.”

  “So does he, apparently. He said he did it on a dare; I got the impression he was with a group and they were all drunk or something. Anyway, it’s a mouse.”

  Mindy’s expression changed. “I see. He had it done after...”

  Beth inclined her head, not letting Mindy finish. “About six weeks after. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “It tells me that you were on his mind, all right.”

  “That’s correct. And he never had it removed, even though he said he’d thought about it.”

  “Sort of like a brand, isn’t it? Like saying, ‘This animal belongs to—’”

  Beth threw a dishtowel at her.

  “It was just a thought,” Mindy said, laughing. “Look, much as I dislike changing this intriguing subject, there was a method to my visit tonight. I need to borrow your black beaded purse.”

  Beth feigned offense. “And here I thought you rushed over to listen to my tale of woe.”

  “That, too. But I still need the purse. I have to go to a formal with Hal next week, and I’m not going to put myself in the poor house running around buying a bunch of fancy accessories. I can’t afford them and I’ll never use them again.”

  “Come on,” Beth said, smiling. “I know it’s somewhere in my room, but it may take some time to find it.”

  Mindy followed her out of the kitchen. “Time I’ve got. What I don’t have is a black beaded purse.”

  Laughing, the two women climbed the stairs.

  * * *

  On Wednesday evening Beth drove out to Johnson Memorial at about seven-thirty, thinking that she might catch Jacinta Lopez on her eight o’clock break. Mindy knew another nurse who worked the same shift, and had told Beth that the staff broke for their meal at about that time. Beth had no idea where Jacinta lived, and neither did Mindy. If Beth wanted to contact her at all she would have to do it at work.

  Johnson Memorial was set in a pretty grove of trees on a rural road, and as Beth turned into the asphalt drive leading to the main entrance, she wondered if she was following a blind alley. But she didn’t know what else to do. She needed to get some insight into Bram’s character and she wasn’t going to get it from him.

  The woman at the information desk told Beth that pediatrics was on the fourth floor. She took the elevator up to what was obviously a new wing, spotless, with cream colored tiled walls and a floor that shone with recent waxing. The nurses’ station was in a nook at the center of the corridor. She stopped an RN, who was assembling medications on a tray, and asked her where she might find Mrs. Lopez.