Keeping the Peace

by Linda Cunningham

  Strand shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “You want my e-mail from the band web site or my personal e-mail?”

  “I’d like them both. And maybe you could highlight the suspicious ones. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.” He turned and left the room without looking at his wife.

  John lifted his face into the shower and let the steam and hot water wash over him. He had gotten his second wind somehow, and the shower reinforced it. He felt his energy returning. It was best not to think about lost sleep.

  Above the rush of the water over his ears, he heard the bathroom door open. “Hey!” he cried. “I’m in here!”

  There wasn’t a place in this house where a person could escape for even a few minutes! Kids would barge in anywhere; they had no boundaries. He felt himself agreeing with his motherin-law: it was their mother’s fault. Even here, in his own bathroom that he’d carved out of the closet in their bedroom with his own hands, for the express purpose of privacy from the children, he could get none—but it was Melanie.

  “What do you want?” he grumbled, soaping himself all over.

  “I want to know what you meant by that parting shot.” She sounded huffy, and he was glad.

  “What parting shot?”

  “You know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “‘Stay here with my wife.’ What’s that all about?”

  “Nothing,” he said innocently. He rinsed himself leisurely and then turned off the shower. “Hand me my towel, will you?”

  She opened the glass door and shoved the towel at him. He began to dry himself.

  “John, really,” she protested. “You’ve been so…distant…lately. What’s wrong?”

  He wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the shower. “It just looked as though you were the best person to leave him with,” he said, not looking at her. “He has to be watched, and you don’t seem to be able to take your eyes off him.”

  “Very funny! Are you jealous?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Me? Should I be?”

  “John, I’m nearly old enough to be his mother.”

  “Hmm. I was younger than he is when we took off and got married. It looks to me like you are carrying on a blatant flirtation.”

  “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

  John glanced at her sideways as he reached for his toothbrush. “Are you protesting too much?”

  He’d disarmed her with his remark, and he watched as she studied herself in the foggy mirror. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said in a while!”

  “That’s how it appears to me,” he replied. He brushed his teeth quickly and rinsed his mouth under the tap. “Do you have to hold his hand all the time?”

  “I don’t hold his hand all the time!”

  “Often enough.” He spit vehemently into the sink. “I walk into my office. There you are, holding his hand. I walk into the room just now, and there you are again, holding his hands—both of them!”

  “I—I’m just trying to—to calm him down.”

  “That kid doesn’t need calming down. He has nerves of steel. He’s playing you, Mel.”

  “You’re being ridiculous! And just what’s been going on with you lately? I’ve hardly seen you. Last night was the first time we’ve made love in two weeks, maybe more. I forget. What if I thought you had a girlfriend?”

  He sighed. “You know I don’t have a girlfriend. You haven’t been particularly available either. The kids take up most of your time; the paper takes up the rest.”

  “You’re blaming the kids?”

  “All I’m saying is a family is a unit. Every individual counts. We don’t exist for the kids; the world doesn’t revolve around them. The whole family counts. We count, too.”

  “Is that what this is about—the kids?”

  He jammed his toothbrush back in the holder and met her eyes for the first time since the conversation began. “We’re getting off topic. No, it’s not about the kids. It’s about you carrying on with this rock star. I’m getting pretty claustrophobic with him in the house, but I guess there’s nothing to do about it now. Look, I don’t even want to talk about it. I have a murder case. I don’t like murder cases. I don’t like strangers coming into town and wreaking havoc. I’m going in to the station.” He turned abruptly, and she followed him.

  “John! We’ve got to get a grip. I have never seen you like this. For somebody who is so confident in his job, you seem to be real insecure about our marriage right now. And for no good reason! John, look at me.”

  He looked up, trying to keep all his emotion under control. “I said I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m not going to talk about it, Melanie.”

  “We have to!”

  “Not right now we don’t. It will have to wait.”

  She made a frustrated noise and whirled, stalking out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IN THE KITCHEN, Melanie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, staring blankly at her laptop. She pushed the cursor around, checking e-mail but not reading it, and skimming the headlines that showed themselves on her Twitter page. She couldn’t bring herself to check Facebook. Social media had transcended fun communication and become a professional responsibility. The Town Crier had a Twitter account, a Facebook page, and a Gmail address. She checked these periodically each day along with her personal accounts. Sometimes, it was just a chore.

  “I’m going now,” John said, striding across the room toward the door.

  She got up quickly. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  “No, Becky will have some when I get to the office, or I can stop at Jiffy Mart.”

  “John,” she said. “John, I—” Then she stopped. “Please be careful. It’s still crazy out there!” She was glad to see him manage a little smile. Taking her opportunity, she went to him and kissed him on the mouth. “Call me later?”

  “I’ll call you.” Then he was out the door.

  She sighed, and her forehead wrinkled with conflicting emotion. What John had said was true. She was not completely innocent. She was drawn to Gabriel. She found him physically magnetic. It was not something she had felt with any man she could think of, except John. It was hard for her to be around Gabriel and not be close to him. She found herself touching his arm, reaching for his hand. She stopped herself several times from brushing his soft brown curls back from his forehead with her fingers. She longed to feel that hair through her fingers.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Oh!” Melanie jumped a little. Gabriel stood in the kitchen door, smiling at her. “You startled me!”

  “Sorry,” he said as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat across from her. “You looked very perplexed just now.”

  “Ah,” she said, her cheeks flushing, “I’m just going over the paper’s e-mails.”

  “I’m glad you were there when I was giving your husband that interview. He’s kind of a formidable guy.”

  Melanie laughed. “John? Oh, no! He’s a big marshmallow!”

  “You could have fooled me. I don’t think he likes me.”

  “Don’t be silly. He’s just doing his job. When it comes to his job, John is a consummate professional.”

  Gabriel changed the subject. “What paper are you looking at?”

  “I publish a little local newspaper,” explained Melanie. “Announcements, school lunches, wedding pictures, classifieds. Things like that.”

  He stood and rounded the end of the table to stand behind her. He bent over her to look at the screen of her computer. His chin brushed the top of her head. She could feel the warmth of him enveloping her back. His hands gripped the back of the chair on either side of her shoulders. If she moved a fraction of an inch either way, they would touch. She shivered slightly.

  “Hmm. Is this it? The Town Crier?”

  She could feel his breath in her hair as he spoke. Odd that this virtual stranger being so close to her did not make her feel like he
was encroaching on her personal space. Instead, she had to fight the urge to lean back into him, to brush his hand with her shoulder, to lift her face up and back until it met his…

  “Yes,” she said, forcing herself to speak clearly.

  “Interesting.”

  She sat, frozen in the moment, aware only of the seductive warmth emanating from him until, slipping his arm across her shoulders, he returned to his chair.

  “You’re an interesting person,” he said with a smile.

  She laughed. “Not really! Just an average small town wife and mother.”

  “You wear it well.”

  Her skin prickled at his words. She made an attempt to be lighthearted. “Ha! I try to fight the good fight!”

  “Are you worried the Internet will put your paper out of business?”

  She laughed again. “Thankfully here in Clark’s Corner, we are woefully behind the times. I’m thinking it’ll survive at least until I retire it or get sick of it.” She had to break the spell he had cast over her. She stood and brought her coffee cup to the sink.

  “Where are you going?” asked Gabriel.

  “Out to the barn,” she answered. “The snow has stopped and the horses need to go out, at least long enough for me to clean up their stalls.” The cold air would feel good, she reasoned to herself, and the physical work would keep her grounded.

  “Can I come with you?”

  Her heart skipped a little. There was a moment of acute confusion in her mind during which she allowed no thought to manifest itself completely. She looked at him, at his snapping dark eyes, and said, “I’d like that. Here, put on Michael’s parka and boots. You don’t have suitable clothes for trudging through two feet of new-fallen snow.”

  He obeyed, and Melanie smiled at him. “You’re just about Michael’s size. You need a hat and some gloves.” She rummaged through a large basket under the coat rack and came up with a yellow knit hat with a huge black pom-pom and a pair of insulated leather gloves.

  “I don’t need a hat,” he said as she handed it to him.

  “Suit yourself,” she said with a laugh, “but it’s still cold out there, and there’s a little wind that makes it even colder.”

  “I’m tough.”

  He grinned as their eyes met, and Melanie felt herself blush. He was cute and charming, with his mischievous eyes and unruly, thick wavy hair. He had not a care in the world, and he made her feel the same freedom. He made her feel as though she was twenty again, and every day started a new adventure. He smiled into her eyes, and Melanie was reminded of her college days, when she and her friends, a giggling clot of girls, would cruise the bars in the college town, excited at the possibilities they might encounter. What cute guys would they happen upon tonight? Melanie remembered several liaisons of her youth fondly. Yet something had always drawn her back here, back home, back to John. It was a connection she had never been able to define. Certainly it was love, and as the years went by, it became deeper, if that was possible. Love was a pale word. There was so much to it. Still, some days she wondered. What if she had elected to stay in the city? What if she had stayed in the arts community? Where would that have taken her? To fame? To celebrity? To a rock star? A woman was allowed to speculate, after all.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and led the way out the back door.

  The back steps were covered. When she stepped off them, she found herself standing in snow over her knees. There was fully two feet of snow on the ground.

  Gabriel spoke up. “Let me go ahead. I’m taller. I’ll break a path for you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and stepped in front of her.

  Melanie followed meekly behind him. She found it easy to be with him. He didn’t invade her space; his touch seemed natural to her.

  When they reached the barn, she moved forward and slid the big door open far enough for them to step in. The horses nickered softly in greeting. Gabriel looked around.

  “This is cozy,” he said. “A real old barn!” He turned and smiled brightly.

  Melanie felt her stomach leap. She looked away from him to quell the feeling.

  “They don’t like being in for so long,” she explained, “but the weather was just so nasty! They can go out now for a while. The cold doesn’t bother the animals as long as they can get out of the wind and they have plenty to eat.”

  “I thought they already had their breakfast.” Gabriel approached one of the horses and stroked his soft nose.

  Melanie walked down the aisle of the barn and opened a wide back door. “They can walk out into their pasture this way,” she explained. “I’m going to put a bale of hay out there for them to snack on for a while. Mia can put them in a little early this afternoon.” She crossed the aisle and picked up a bale of hay from several of them stacked against the wall.

  Gabriel ran up immediately. “Here, let me get that for you.” He reached out and took the strings, lifting the bale from her. “Where do you want it?”

  “Oh, well, I…” stammered Melanie. “You don’t have to do that. I can manage.”

  His smile was charming. “Please,” he said, “give me a chance to be chivalrous. And I’m not a complete stranger to horses and barns. I’ve helped my sister on occasion.”

  Melanie could not subdue a laugh. “Okay, then, take it out and divide it into two or three piles in the snow out there. I’ll let them out.”

  He smirked at her and plowed out through the deep snow. Melanie opened the stall doors, and the horses, tired of being cooped up, trotted out the open door. The new snow invigorated them, and they danced and tossed their heads playfully before they settled down to eat some of the hay. Gabriel walked back to stand beside Melanie in the open doorway.

  “They feel good,” she said. “They love a new snowfall.”

  “I feel good, too,” remarked the musician. “At least, I feel better. Being with you makes me feel better. It’s not a good feeling, knowing somebody wants you dead.”

  “John will get to the bottom of this,” said Melanie. Guiltily, she realized as she spoke his name that it was the first time she had thought about him since he’d left the house.

  “Melanie,” Gabriel said.

  She turned to look at him. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being there for me. Not judging me. Being with me because you care for me.”

  Melanie said nothing, but a sudden flush burned her cheeks.

  Gabriel raised his ungloved hand and cupped the back of her neck, under her thick scarf. She was suddenly powerless to move. She felt confused and struggled to collect her thoughts. She couldn’t seem to move any part of her body.

  He bent his head down closer to hers and spoke softly. “I want you to know how I feel about you. I’ve never met any woman like you. You’ve captured me. I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to…to…”

  There was an almost imperceptible motion, and before she was quite sure what had happened, his lips were on hers. For a split second, all her senses flared, fueled to a blaze by the fascination with him that she had tried to keep hidden. She was acutely aware of the softness of his lips, of their gradual, increasing pressure on her own.

  Before she’d processed the feeling, before she was ready, he drew back from her. “I’m sorry,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t.

  “It’s okay.” She knew her reply was wrong, but she said the words anyway. She turned away from him and grabbed up a manure fork. Facing him again, she flashed a big smile, saying, “I’m going to shovel horse manure now. Want to help me?”

  “I’ve done it before,” he answered easily. “Like I said, I’ve helped my sister at her barn.”

  “Grab the wheelbarrow down there at the end of the aisle. There’s another fork leaning against the wall over there.” Melanie pointed her finger.

  They cleaned for a while in silence, Melanie furiously shoveling the waste into the wheelbarrow until it began to spill over onto the floor.

&nb
sp; “Hey!” Gabriel said. “I think it’s full. Where do I empty it?”

  “You can push it right out the back door to the pile. You can see it there, steaming under the snow.”

  Gabriel nodded and pushed the load down the aisle and outside. Melanie stood watching him struggle to get to the manure pile through the drifted snow. Her mind was spinning at dizzying speed. Thoughts, or partial thoughts, flitted through her consciousness. Did one of the kids see me? What if John came home unannounced? She hadn’t meant for it to happen. She’d wanted it to happen. She’d made it happen.

  Melanie’s heart was beating out of her chest. She took a deep breath and went back to put clean bedding in the stalls. She filled the hay racks with hay.

  “I did it,” said Gabriel from the aisle. “I put the wheelbarrow back where I found it.”

  “Thank you for helping me,” she said stiffly. She was angry at herself.

  “Look,” he said, stepping into stall where she was, “I don’t want things to get weird between us. I just want you to know how I feel. I want you to know what I want.”

  “Things are already weird between us,” she said bitterly. “You made them weird, just now!” Tears welled in her eyes. Why was she playing with fire? “No, no…” She dropped her eyes to the floor and shook her head. “No. That’s not fair. I let it happen. It’s not your fault.”

  “Then—” he lowered his voice and stepped closer “—then you wanted it, too?”

  Still fighting herself, she looked up at him and said defiantly, “I must have, mustn’t I? I kissed you back. I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do!”

  “Don’t say that!” There was desperation in his voice. “Please. I can’t take that from you right now.” He reached out and took her gloved hands in his bare ones. “I like it when you wear the gloves,” he said. “That way I can’t see your wedding ring.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “I am married, though,” she said, looking into the dark wells that were his eyes. There was light shining in them, up from the bottom. It made her want to fall into them. “I am married,” she repeated.