The Marriage Beat

by Doreen Roberts

  The contact sent a delicious shudder down the affected arm. Unnerved by the sensation, she moved out of his way and opened the cupboard containing her pots and pans.

  The one she wanted rested on the top of the pile, and she reached for it. As she straightened, Tyler snaked his hand around from behind her and closed his hand over hers.

  “I’ll take that.”

  His voice had sounded right in her ear. Combined with the pressure of his fingers, she felt the impact all the way down to her toes.

  She spun around to face him, meaning to hand him the saucepan, but something in his expression froze her. Seconds ticked by while he just stood there, inches away, staring into her eyes with a hungry look on his face.

  She could feel her heart thumping, and a weird sensation as if she were dropping through space at high speed. Then his expression changed, and he cleared his throat.

  “This is my job,” he said, taking the saucepan out of her nerveless fingers.

  She was too shaken to resist. She must have imagined it, she told herself, as she moved away from him. Yet the image of that intense look on his face stayed with her as she watched him wash the lettuce.

  “Okay, I can manage now,” he told her, after he’d opened the soup and poured it into the pan. “Go and sit down in there and I’ll yell when it’s ready.”

  “You still have to slice tomatoes for the salad.” Needing something to do, she lit the gas under the soup. “I’ll watch the soup while you do that.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll go sit down like I told you and read the paper, or watch TV or something.”

  She frowned at him. “You’re doing it again.”

  “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

  “You’re ordering me around.”

  “And you’re being stubborn. This is a simple meal. A child could handle it. Now go sit down. You look tired.”

  Without another word she left him and stalked into the living room. Tired. That’s what every woman wanted to hear. Not that it mattered to her what he thought of her, of course.

  She stared at the front page of the newspaper. If they were going to get through this week with any kind of peace she would have to make him realize that just because her arm was out of action she wasn’t totally disabled. He had to stop regarding her as an accident waiting to happen.

  And she had to stop jumping every time he looked at her or touched her. Even now she was getting a shivery feeling just thinking about it. Annoyed with herself, she tried to concentrate on the headline story.

  “Damn!”

  The hoarse curse rang out in the kitchen sometime later and brought her to her feet. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Just stay there. Everything’s fine.”

  Megan sniffed. everything didn’t smell fine. Cautiously she edged around the corner and peered into the kitchen.

  Smoke hovered over the stove, while Tyler furiously mopped up the bubbling soup that ran down the front of the oven. She opened her mouth to comment but just then the smoke alarm went off with a shrill buzz that seemed to vibrate right through her head.

  “Damn,” Tyler said again, giving her a desperate look. He raised his voice to be heard above the alarm. “The soup boiled over when I wasn’t looking.”

  “Really. Well, if you remember, I did offer to watch it for you.”

  He gave her a look that would have stopped Attila the Hun. “I was busy making salad. My mind was on other things.”

  “Well, you’d better turn off that alarm before the fire department turns up.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the hallway!” She waved her good arm in that direction. “Just follow your ears.”

  He grabbed a kitchen towel and plunged by her, and a few seconds later blessed peace was restored.

  She waited for him to come back, resisting the urge to pick up the cloth and finish mopping the stove. This was it, she thought, surveying the mess. From now on she was through following his orders.

  He was going to learn to cook a decent meal if she had to stand over him and supervise each step. But there was no way she was going to let him loose on his own in her kitchen again.

  Tyler was quieter than usual as they shared the meal later. If only he would let her help, things would be easier for both of them. There was plenty she could do with her good arm, if only he’d quit babying her.

  Looking at his gloomy expression, she decided he needed cheering up. “The salad’s good,” she said brightly, as she laid down her fork.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So’s the soup.”

  He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I manage to cook soup all the time at home. It’s easier to concentrate when I’m on my own.”

  Now who was being defensive, she thought. Determined not to enter into another argument, she searched around for another topic. “Have you always lived in Portland?” she asked finally.

  “Nope.” He broke off a chunk of bread and took a bite.

  She waited, and when nothing else appeared to be forthcoming prompted, “Where did you live before you came here?”

  “Southern Oregon.” He flicked a glance her way then went back to cleaning his soup plate with the rest of his bread.

  “Was that when you were married?”

  The hand holding the bread stilled, then moved on. “As a matter of fact it was.”

  Obviously it was still painful for him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  This time his silver-blue gaze remained on her face. “It’s no big deal. It was over a long time ago.”

  She nodded, wondering if she dared say any more.

  She was still trying to form a question in her mind when he added, “Six years ago, in fact. I transferred to Portland right after that.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been dismal.”

  He popped the last piece of bread in his mouth and swallowed it down before answering her. “The whole damn thing was dismal. Lousy marriages always are.” He got up from the table, taking the plates with him, and went into the kitchen.

  Megan waited until she heard the water running into the sink, then followed him in there. He stood with his back to her, but she had hardly gone three steps before he said sharply, “Go sit down. I’ll be through here in a minute.”

  “I’d really like to help.” She reached his side and opened up the dishwasher. “I can stack with one hand.”

  For once he didn’t argue. In fact, she felt a little worried about him. He seemed deep in thought over something. She hoped she hadn’t brought back any bad memories.

  On the other hand, she thought, as she stacked the plates into the dishwasher, if he could only open up and talk about it, he might be able to lay to rest whatever ghosts were troubling him.

  It didn’t seem likely he would talk about it with her, however, and maybe she should just quit trying. They found enough to argue about without bringing his broken marriage into it.

  She was pleasantly surprised when they managed to get through the entire afternoon on amicable terms. She’d suggested working on a jigsaw puzzle together, something she could do with one hand, and Tyler readily agreed. He seemed relieved to have something to concentrate his attention on.

  He was good at it, and she had a hard time keeping up with him. The afternoon passed quickly, while they exchanged views on several topics, including a lively discussion on the merits of the city’s use of police on horseback, the concept of which Megan heartily approved, while Tyler felt it was a waste of taxpayer’s money.

  Much as she would have liked to, however, Megan could not steer the conversation in a personal direction, and by dinnertime she knew no more about Tyler’s background than the little he’d already told her.

  He made her sit on a chair in the kitchen while he prepared the evening meal. She supervised each step, and in spite of a couple of mishaps while breaking eggs into the bowl, he managed to make a pretty good meat loaf.<
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  She insisted on helping with the dishes afterward, stacking them into the dishwasher for him. Tyler was looking pretty pleased with himself when they returned to the living room.

  “I’ll have to remember that recipe,” he said, as he settled himself into an armchair. “Maybe I could cook it for myself now and again.”

  “I’ll give you the recipe,” Megan said, mentally deciding to buy him an entire cookbook. “That’s if you promise to follow it faithfully.”

  “I’ll try. I don’t have much patience with instructions. I tend to play it by ear.”

  No kidding, she thought wryly. Maybe she’d taken on more than she’d bargained for when she’d offered to teach him to cook.

  Remembering how she’d felt earlier when he’d stared at her in the kitchen, she had to admit that the cooking lessons weren’t the only thing she hadn’t bargained on. If she wasn’t real careful, she warned herself uneasily, she could be in big trouble before this whole thing was over.

  Chapter Five

  “What do you usually do on a Friday night?” Tyler asked, breaking into Megan’s troubled thoughts.

  The question took her by surprise. “Sometimes I go out to dinner with friends. Sometimes I go to a movie, if no one else is around.”

  “You go alone?” He frowned. “That’s not a very bright idea.”

  She felt a faint prickle of resentment and did her best to ignore it. “It’s perfectly safe. There are plenty of other people around. It’s not as if I’m on my own. What can happen in a movie theater?”

  “Plenty. You’d be surprised. What about the parking lot? You walk to your car alone in the dark, right?”

  “There are other people around there, too.”

  “Exactly. What would you do if some guy came up behind you and stuck a gun in your back?”

  “Scream like the blazes,” Megan said promptly.

  “There aren’t too many people around who would argue with a gun. He could force you into your car and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

  “I’d fight,” Megan said, lifting her chin.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. He’s liable to shoot you just to keep you quiet.”

  “What about the self-defense lessons? Isn’t that what they are for?”

  Tyler shook his head. “If you hadn’t hurt yourself that night I would have given you the lecture about not fighting a man with a gun. You only use self-defense if you are reasonably sure it will work. Competing with a firearm is a losing proposition.”

  “Then what good are the lessons?”

  “We hope to give you an edge. We don’t guarantee complete immunity from harm. In certain circumstances a thorough knowledge of self-defense could save your life. That doesn’t necessarily mean it will. The only way you can be reasonably safe is if you behave sensibly. And that means not going to places alone where there could be trouble.”

  Aware that she was being lectured again, Megan dug in her heels. “Well, I’m not going to let my life be dictated by what might possibly happen. If I do that then the bad guys win. I’m going to live my life the way I want, and no one, with or without a gun, is going to stop me doing that.”

  “I’ll make sure they put that on your gravestone,” Tyler said, looking perfectly serious. “It’s attitudes like yours that make our job so tough.”

  “Really. I was under the impression that it was criminals who did that.”

  He waved an impatient hand at her. “You know what I mean.”

  “Of course. You’re insinuating that I’m not mature enough or sensible enough to take care of myself.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it.” He sat up, apparently warming up to what was obviously a hot topic for him. “I’m saying that most women do not understand how vulnerable they really are. What with the increasing availability of drugs and firearms, the world has become a dangerous place. Violence is everywhere and anywhere, and women in particular are at the mercy of these vicious thugs.”

  “I know,” Megan murmured facetiously. “It’s a jungle out there.”

  He scowled at her. “It’s no joke. I tried to tell my wife that, but she wouldn’t listen, either.”

  Megan’s resentment vanished in a flash. She held her breath, almost afraid to hear what he had to say next. Maybe now she’d find out exactly what did happen to Tyler’s marriage. Only now she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “We ended up getting a divorce.” Tyler leaned back and massaged his brow with his thumb and forefinger.

  Relieved that things hadn’t turned out as tragic as she’d imagined, Megan said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

  “I knew it was coming. Katy had always been very independent. She didn’t like anyone telling her what to do. Especially me.”

  Megan thought about the way Tyler barked out orders and felt a pang of sympathy for Katy. “Did you have children?”

  “No, thank God. She was too busy with her career.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She works for the D.A.’s office. That’s how we met. We were both lonely, I guess, and kind of drifted into a relationship. Getting married seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  So far he hadn’t mentioned anything about love, Megan thought. “How long were you married?”

  Tyler sighed. “Too long. It was a disaster right from the start. I was working nights a lot, and Katy got tired of sitting at home. She started going out, visiting her parents at first, then out with her friends. She didn’t understand that I needed to know exactly where she was going and what she was doing. She got mad when I wouldn’t let her go places without me. I just wanted to be sure she was safe, that was all. She said I was trying to run her life.”

  “Didn’t you discuss it with her? Try to compromise with each other?”

  He uttered a bitter laugh. “You couldn’t argue with Katy. She wouldn’t listen to reason. She just got mad. Then she’d do something to make me mad, like disappear for hours without telling me where she was, or going somewhere I’d warned her was dangerous to go to alone.”

  “That must have worried you.”

  “You bet it worried me. And she knew it. In the end we were arguing just about every night, until finally we both realized we couldn’t live with each other any more and agreed to call it quits.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is that I did my best to protect her, and she threw it all right back in my face.”

  “I don’t think she meant to do that.” She’d more or less spoken her thoughts out loud, and waited apprehensively for his answer.

  “Oh, she meant it, all right. If you’d met her, you’d know what I mean.”

  She should just drop it here, Megan thought. Somehow she just couldn’t let it go. “Maybe I didn’t know her, but I can understand how she must have felt. I know you wanted to protect her, but everyone needs their own space, Tyler. No one should have to account for every second of her life, no matter what the circumstances are. She probably felt stifled and needed a little freedom, that’s all.”

  “Freedom for what? To live dangerously? Well, if she wanted that, she married the wrong person.” He stood up abruptly and looked at his watch. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, anyway. The last thing you need is a rundown on my sordid past.”

  “Tyler...” She jumped to her feet, wishing now that she’d kept her thoughts to herself.

  “Since you managed to get yourself out of bed,” he said a little too quietly, “and into the shower this morning, I figure you can manage without me tonight. My number’s in the book if you have any problem.”

  “Tyler, I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Forget it.” He strode to the door and opened it.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  He turned and looked at her. “I’ll be here to get your breakfast,” he said gruffly. “Don’t forget to take your pill and don’t use that arm.”

  Before she could a
nswer him he’d stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  Megan sank onto her chair, feeling more miserable than she had any right to feel. She hadn’t meant to upset him. All she’d wanted to do was make him understand why his wife had acted the way she had. Of course, it was none of her business and she should have kept her mouth shut.

  Remembering what he’d said just before he left, she wondered how he knew she’d showered that morning. Most likely he’d noticed the bandage on her arm was damp. She hadn’t taken it off in the shower, aware that she wouldn’t be able to put it back on by herself.

  She looked at the phone and wondered how long it would take him to get home. If he’d gone straight home. In that mood he might have decided to drown his sorrows in some bar. She had a vision of him sitting there, all alone, gazing into his beer with that gloomy expression of his. Her imagination supplied a lonely woman, sidling up to him to keep him company.

  The thought made her feel so bad she put it out of her mind at once. Not that it mattered to her how many women Tyler Jackson picked up in a bar. She just didn’t like to think she’d driven him there, that was all.

  She looked at the clock. It was too early to go to bed, and she didn’t feel like finishing the jigsaw puzzle. It just didn’t seem as much fun without Tyler. There was nothing on television she cared to watch, and she didn’t feel like reading.

  The evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of her. She couldn’t wait for the morning to come so she could mend her fences with him. But the morning was still a long way away. She glanced at the phone again.

  No, she couldn’t call him. That might give him the wrong idea. What she needed was something to take her mind off Officer Jackson.

  She reached for the phone and tucked it under her chin, then punched out a number. If she couldn’t go out with her friends on a Friday night, she told herself, she could at least talk to one of them.

  After dialing four numbers, all answered by a machine, she had to acknowledge the fact that all her friends were out enjoying their Friday evening. She was beginning to feel very sorry for herself.

  She looked up Tyler’s number and scribbled it as best she could with her left hand in her address book. She almost called him, her hand hovering over the phone while she struggled with indecision. At the last minute she dialed her mother’s number instead, in a desperate attempt to put the infuriating man out of her mind.