by Nikki Soarde
Marnie was pleased to see a little bit of animation return to her niece’s face. “I did. We went shopping and had pizza and went to the Stampede. Luke held me on the Ferris wheel and then—” She clamped her mouth shut as she suddenly remembered the secret. “It was fun.”
Don evaluated Luke out of the corner of his eye. “You went on the Ferris wheel? And Luke held you?”
“Uh-huh. Well, I had to hold him too because he was just as scared as me. But then it was fun. Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s in the kitchen helping Grandma.” He slipped his daughter off his knee. “Why don’t you go in and steal a pickle before dinner?” When Tiffany’s steps had faded, Don directed himself to Marnie. “You got her to go on the wheel? That’s quite a feat.”
“I can’t take the credit. It was all Luke’s doing. She really took to him.”
“Mm.” Don crossed his legs and leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the coordinating love seat. “Those studs look awfully familiar.”
It took Marnie a moment to realize he was referring to the earrings, but Luke beat her to the punch. “Marnie told me they had been a gift from you. But since there was no possible way she could make use of them, she insisted that I wear them.”
Don ignored the jibe at his thoughtlessness. “Does that mean you’re gay?” Marnie couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected a note of hopefulness in Don’s tone.
Luke blinked at Don, his expression vacant, as if Don had just asked him the meaning of life. He turned to Marnie and whispered in her ear. She whispered her answer and Luke burst out laughing. “God, no. I like women.” On cue he reached for Marnie’s hand. It wasn’t just for show. Marnie could feel the trace of dampness that belied his tension. “Very much.”
Don’s mouth was a grim line. “You still haven’t remembered anything?”
“No. Nothing concrete, anyway.”
“Isn’t that odd? I mean, don’t most people start to remember things by this point?”
Marnie felt her blood pressure rising. “Amnesia is still relatively uncharted territory, Don. There’s no right way to do it. He’ll remember when he’s ready, and not before.” She squeezed the hand that was wrapped around hers. “If he remembers at all. It’s possible he won’t.”
“So that means he’ll be with you until…” He shrugged, but his eyes indicated he expected a definitive answer.
“Until he leaves. Now, I think we should go in and help get dinner on the table. I don’t know about you but I’m starved.”
“Why don’t you go?” suggested Don. “I’d like to chat with Luke for a bit. You know, man to man.”
Marnie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. There was no way she was leaving Luke alone to fend for himself in a potentially hostile atmosphere. But before she could protest another familiar voice reached her ears from the doorway. “Marnie, Mom was wondering if you could finish setting the table.”
Her eyes riveted on Mrs. Karen Grant. Then she corrected herself—Mrs. Don Grant. Karen was the daughter Marnie’s parents had always dreamed of. A clone of her mother-in-law, swathed in a cloud of pale peach silk and flowing blond hair, she stood in the doorway in her white sling-back sandals and oozed gentility and softness. She was the type of woman who deferred to her husband because she was too frail to endure a heated argument. Good grief! What if she cried and made her mascara run? The consequences of such encounters were too gruesome to contemplate.
Marnie managed to tamp down the evil chuckle that welled up from within her and respond to her sister-in-law in a civil tone. “Certainly. Luke and I would love to help. By the way, Karen, this is Luke.”
Karen stepped forward, offering her hand and billowing out waves of femininity. “You’re quite the celebrity.” Her eyes roved over him, taking in every detail from head to toe as he stood to return the greeting. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard our little Marnie was involved with your case.”
Marnie gritted her teeth but Luke was up for the challenge. “I would hardly say she’s little,” he said with a mischievous twinkle. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“Indeed.”
“In fact, just last night she knocked the breath clean out of me. Had me writhing on the ground, begging for mercy.” He shook his head and sighed. “Gotta admire that in a woman. God knows I had it coming.”
He winked, and as the blood washed out of Karen’s features, Marnie thought she could kiss him for his efforts. After a moment of silent indignation, Karen sputtered, “I’ll-I’ll see you in the kitchen, Marnie.” And she whirled around and was gone.
Marnie tugged on his hand. “Come on, you charmer. I’ll give you a lesson in silverware etiquette that will serve you well in social settings for years to come.”
But he hung back. “Would you mind if I stayed here? I’ve only had female company for weeks now. I wouldn’t mind a little man talk with your brother.”
Marnie froze, dumbstruck, for a moment, unsure whether he was serious. She pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “You don’t have to do this, Luke. Don can be much more formidable than Karen or my mother. You’ve done enough.”
He whispered back, setting his lips firmly against the curl of her ear and sending a parade of gooseflesh down her arm. “No, I want to. I really want to get to know your family. Maybe then I’ll understand you better too.”
She hazarded a glance at Don, but he was just sitting there watching them, his eyes unreadable and his mouth grim. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He pushed her toward the kitchen. “Hurry up the dinner. It smells wonderful.”
Feeling like a rat fleeing a sinking ship, she headed for the kitchen. She hesitated in the doorway, but Luke and Don were already ignoring her. They had settled comfortably into a conversation that seemed to revolve around the Stampede and Calgary life in general. Hoping that topic was innocuous enough to last them until dinner, she ventured into Attack of the Killer Relatives, Part Two.
She headed silently for the silverware drawer and glanced toward the dining room as she pulled it open.
She immediately pushed it closed. “You don’t need me to set the table. It’s all done already.”
“Tiffany decided she wanted to do it,” explained Helen.
Tiffany was sitting in the dinette, her feet swinging beneath the glass-and-wrought iron table, busily coloring in her favorite Beauty and the Beast activity book.
“Then I can go back in with the men.”
“Marina…”
“Yes, Mother? Spit it out. I know you’re dying to.”
Her mother leaned against the kitchen counter and wrapped a dish towel around her wrists as though she were trying to shackle herself to the serenity that Marnie continually threatened. She whispered, “He—he has a tattoo.”
“Actually, he has two.”
“Is he a biker? Or a-a—”
“He’s a man, and he has become a good friend. That’s all you need to know. For that matter, that’s all I need to know.”
Karen piped up. “I think he’s positively vulgar.”
“You’re just angry because he made you uncomfortable.”
“Is what he said true?”
“What? That thing about him and me writhing on the ground together?”
Helen’s hand flew to her chest in a feeble effort to still her heart.
“Yes.” Marnie folded her arms across her chest. “Every word.”
Helen turned to the sink and began vigorously scrubbing carrots. “I thought we taught you better than that. You may have left this house and abandoned the church, but I had hoped you would at least hang on to a few of the basic teachings and morals that we raised you with.”
“I know what’s right and good, and I make my decisions accordingly.”
Karen had moved over beside Tiffany. She settled a protective hand on her daughter’s head. “Good?” she said derisively. “Then how is it you ended up with someone like Luke?”
Karen ignored that poignant statement. “You know nothing about him, Marnie. The way he looks, he could pass for a pimp or a drug dealer. How do you know that’s not exactly what he is?”
“You don’t get it,” said Marnie through a clenched jaw. “I don’t care what he was. It’s what he is now that matters. And tattoos and earrings don’t mean a damn thing in comparison to his honesty and charm.”
“Marina, please watch your language.” The peeler continued to scrape the grime and dirt off those doomed carrots.
“You don’t need to understand this. I didn’t expect you to. None of you. But I do expect you to treat him with respect.” She hugged herself around her middle. “Didn’t Jesus himself consort with tax collectors and prostitutes?”
Her mother turned around and considered. “Yes, but I would hesitate to compare myself to Christ. And don’t try to tell me you’re with Luke to try and save his soul.”
Marnie couldn’t dispute that. In fact, she had a hard time imagining that Luke’s soul needed saving.
There was genuine concern in Helen’s eyes. “I just hope you don’t regret this, sweetheart. I hope you don’t end up hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I know what I’m doing. If something goes wrong it will have been my decision. My responsibility. I like being in control of my life, and having the freedom to screw it up if I choose.” She held up her hands before her mother could complain yet again. “Sorry. I’ll watch my tongue. But right now I’m going to check and make sure Don isn’t devouring Luke alive.”
Feeling just a little smug, she whirled and left the room. But she didn’t plunge right back into the living room. On a whim, she stopped just outside the door and listened, curious as to how Luke was faring without her.
“But if she was so set against it, why do it?” Luke’s voice was low but intense.
Don’s, on the other hand, was nonchalant and almost bored. “I considered her objections, but decided they were groundless. It was ridiculous to change our plans because she was being so unreasonable. I trust Marnie, and that’s that.”
Luke was silent for a time. “You make all the decisions?”
“Well, all the major ones. I mean, I don’t care what we have for dinner at night, and I let Karen handle most of the household decisions, like when it’s time for new furniture—that sort of thing.”
“But why?”
“Well, that’s really her domain. And besides, I don’t have time—”
“No, no. Why doesn’t she get a say?”
“She does. She has input, but I have the final word.”
“Why?” Marnie loved how Luke cut to the chase of so many problems with that one simple word.
“Because as head of the household I have a divine mandate to take care of my family.”
Marnie could almost hear the wheels in Luke’s brain turning. “Is Karen stupid?”
“What?” Don’s finger tapped on the end table a few times. “Oh, of course not. She’s a very intelligent woman. That’s part of what I love about her.”
“But you’re smarter.”
Don cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, she might take issue with that, since her grades in high school were a few notches above mine.”
“Okay, so then she must not keep up with things. You know, she must not understand money and politics, and—I don’t know. All that stuff.”
“No. She’s very well-read and keeps up with the news.”
“So…” Luke’s frustration was plain. “So, why would God make her that smart, give her brains, if he didn’t want her to use them?”
“You just don’t understand. It’s more complicated than that.”
Marnie was now entertaining the notion of rescuing her brother when Luke spoke up again. “Oh, I know what she doesn’t have.”
“What?” Don’s voice was guarded.
“A penis. Does God have one, do you think?”
Suppressing hysterical laughter, Marnie sauntered into the room. Feeling surprisingly bold, she blatantly planted a kiss on Luke’s cheek. “I think dinner’s about ready.” She glanced at Don, who had gone deathly pale. “That is, assuming you still have an appetite.”
* * * * *
Marnie turned down the car’s visor to shield her eyes against the setting sun and hazarded a glance at Luke’s profile. He had reclined his seat and laid his head back on the headrest. She thought he had dozed a bit since leaving her mother’s house a little more than an hour ago.
Dinner had gone relatively well, considering how distracted her mother had been. Marnie recalled how her mother’s eyes had been drawn repeatedly to Luke’s ear and deltoids. She probably never thought she would have such a creature sitting down to Sunday dinner with her and hers, let alone as a guest and probable suitor for her daughter. Helen hadn’t come right out and asked if they were sleeping together, but the question had been all too evident in her eyes. Marnie deliberately avoided the topic of sleeping arrangements, and Tiffany, bless her heart, had kept their secrets well.
And then, of course, there had been the blatant disapproval on Karen’s face. She had indulged in polite conversation, asking Luke about his physical progress and commenting on his apparent robustness, but there was an undeniable edge to her voice and a glint in her eye that belied her true opinion of the man who had shared a weekend with her daughter. Tiffany’s obvious affection for Luke hadn’t helped matters.
When the girl had climbed, uninvited and undeterred, into Luke’s lap during coffee Karen’s expression had borne a striking resemblance to that of a constipated camel. Tiffany had snuggled down, oblivious to her parent’s consternation, and had shared Luke’s dessert as if she had done it a thousand times. Marnie’s heart had been so full it had just about burst from her chest.
And then there was Don. She couldn’t suppress the little snort of laughter that erupted from her lungs at the thought of Don’s reticence after the little bomb Luke had dropped in his lap. God with genitals? Ludicrous.
“What’s so funny?” Luke’s sleepy voice interrupted her silent soliloquy.
“Just reliving the afternoon’s events.”
“Have you always been a rebel?”
Another snort. “Heavens, no. You bring out the worst in me Luke No-name.”
It was his turn to snort. “I thought you were calling me Luke Blue or Luke Lucky.”
“I changed my mind. I don’t think you’re lucky. I think you’re tenacious. You were just too stubborn to die.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Don’t worry, it was a compliment.”
He finally turned his head to look at her, his expression reflective and serene as he gazed up from his supine position. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your real name?”
“Real name?”
“Marina. It’s beautiful. I wish you had told me sooner.”
“Nobody calls me that but my mother.”
“Why?”
She quirked a half-smile but kept her eyes riveted to the road. “You like that word. Is that how you approach every problem in life?”
“It’s simple but effective.”
She nodded.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t feel like a Marina. I never have. To me the name Marina brings to mind cascading hair and fluttering lashes. It reminds people of the sea and the sand, balmy breezes and sun-kissed skies. That’s not me. I’ve always been a tomboy. I’ve always felt more comfortable in jeans and sneakers than chiffon and petticoats.” She shrugged and sighed lightly. “Marnie just seemed more…me.”
“Jeans and sneakers aren’t incompatible with the sea and the sky.”
“Whatever.”
“You don’t feel beautiful, do you? I wish—”
She frowned as he interrupted himself and suddenly snapped the seat back into its upright position. “What is it?”
“Stop the car.”
“What?” She slowed and put on her blinker. “All right, but do you mind if I stop it at the house?”
Luke glanced around in surprise. “We’re here?”
They were already bumping down the lane. “Yep.”
A moment later she had pulled to a stop in front of the one-and-a-half-story log structure with the wraparound porch and the stone chimney.
“Okay,” she said after throwing the transmission into park and silencing the engine. “What was the rush?”
But he was already out of the vehicle and rounding the hood, his eyes riveted on the jagged skyline to the west. Marnie got out and joined him as he leaned against the car and said with awe, “It’s beautiful.”
And, at last, she saw what he saw. The sun had just set behind the not-so-distant mountains, casting the entire sky in subtle shades of peach and gold. A few gentle wisps of cloud caressed the pearly peaks, reflecting brilliant shades of fuchsia and purple onto the untouched summits. The iridescent tendrils shifted and danced with the breezes that swirled across the heavens.
Below, just a scant few meters in front of where Luke and Marnie stood, the Bow River flowed lazily along its way. Its glassy surface reflected the riot of color that spanned the horizon and was mottled only slightly by the horseflies and waterbugs that flitted across its surface, tempting trout and perch to brave the elements and break through to nip at them in search of a late supper.
All around them was silence, except for the whisper of the breeze and the soft gurgle of water. Marnie’s eyes were drawn back to Luke. He was enraptured by the beauty unfolding around them. She slipped her hand into his, and their fingers entwined.
“You make me ashamed, Luke,” she whispered at last.
He didn’t look at her, obviously unable to drag his eyes away from the colors that were already dwindling as the sun continued its descent. “Ashamed? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I would have noticed the sunset if you hadn’t.” Unable to stop herself she moved a little closer and leaned against him, savoring his sturdiness and strength and sharing in his wonder. “We become so jaded to the world around us. We get so wrapped up in ourselves and our problems that we can’t see something as simple as a sunset.”