A Marriage-Minded Man

by Karen Templeton

  “It’s okay, dammit!” she said, yanking free. “It’s…” Her lower lip trembling—although in anger or pain or what, he couldn’t tell—she lowered her butt to the bathroom tile, her back against the tub.

  His stomach went into freefall. “Tess? You’re not…you know. Late late?”

  She looked up at him, her brow puckered for a moment until she pushed out a small, dry laugh. “Period came last week, right on schedule. You can breathe now.”

  He did, giving her a moment to collect herself—which she spent mostly by sucking on the small wound—before she mumbled, “Would you please go away?” around the base of her thumb.

  “I’m thinking no,” Eli said, sitting down beside her. Smelling her. Feeling her. Having no earthly idea what to do about any of it.

  “You have work to do.”

  “It’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.” He looked over, his forehead all bunched up, thinking she was the only woman in the world who could pull off the death-warmed-over look. “But before you get started—next time you’re held up, you call and let somebody know, you got that?”

  That at least diverted her attention from the thumb. “Why? I don’t work for you.”

  “I know that. But it’s just…common courtesy is all. So people know you’re okay.”

  “People,” she said, her eyes boring into his. Eli looked away.

  “Yeah. Like Teo and Luis and them. You know how they are. They get worried.”

  “I see. Then I’ll be sure not to keep…Teo and them in the dark from now on.”

  “Good,” Eli said with a sharp nod. “Now you gonna tell me what happened? You talk to your mother or something?”

  She actually laughed. “No, I don’t have that reaction when my mother calls. Ricky, on the other hand…”

  Instantly, his insides felt like they’d been blowtorched. Why, he had no idea. The man was her ex, for crying out loud. An ex for whom she was clearly no longer pining, from the looks of things. “What’d he say to you?”

  “He didn’t say anything. Well, obviously, he did. It’s just…he got on my case about Miguel, that’s all, telling me I should’ve taken him to the E.R. after the accident, blah blah blah.” She tried to run a hand through her plastered-down hair. No go.

  “You didn’t tell him what’d happened?”

  “Of course I did. That night. Did he say anything then? No. Now, four days later—after not even bothering to drive up to see his son—he gives me grief about how I handled things? And the worst of it is, I let him get to me. Instead of just agreeing with him and ending the conversation, I argued, even though I know it never ends well. Ever.”

  Sighing, she inspected her hand, then got back up to pour the now-opened paint into a tray. “So that’s why I’m late. Miguel, too. And he hates that, hates getting there after everybody else has already copied down their assignments for the day….”

  Her voice broke. Not a lot, but enough to make Eli feel like a character in a horror movie who looks around, whispering, “Anybody else hear that?” a split second before Godzilla bursts through the wall.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Tess,” Eli said quietly.

  The roller soaked, Tess glanced at him, then slapped the thing against the dirty white wall. When it appeared she had no intention of answering, Eli stood, coming up behind her, wanting so badly to touch her it hurt. “I said, it wasn’t your—”

  “And maybe you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her words bouncing with each jut of the roller.

  “Then why don’t you clue me in?”

  “Because…because I don’t dump on my friends, remember?”

  Ah, geez…he couldn’t believe she was still playing that card. Annoyed beyond belief, Eli grabbed one of her wrists anyway, making her face him, a goner for sure the moment he saw the deep, deep pain in her eyes. As if realizing her mistake, she ducked her head; Eli tucked two fingers under her chin and forced their gazes to meet again.

  “So. We’re friends now?”

  She did this funny little shrug, like a fly had landed on her. “Maybe.”

  He let go, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “Tess…when I went through some heavy personal stuff a few years ago, I didn’t want to talk about it, either. Thought it was, I don’t know—unmanly or something. So it’s not like I don’t understand where you’re coming from, that you don’t want people to think you’re weak or whatever—”

  “What kind of heavy stuff?” she said, her eyes suddenly all liquidy and soft.

  “Nice try,” Eli said on a dry chuckle, now folding his arms over his chest to lean back against the sink. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you. And it seems to me you’ve got a long way to go before you’re anywhere near emptied out. So get crackin’, sunshine.”

  Shaking her head, she returned to her task, even though her hand was shaking so badly she nearly dropped the roller. “Not looking for sympathy, Eli—”

  She jolted when his hand closed around her upper arm, her gaze jerking back to his. Half startled, half ticked, would be his guess.

  “You know,” he said softly, thinking, Join the club, “one day I’d like somebody to explain why being sympathetic is such a bad thing.” He released her arm. “And just for the record,” he added before she could interrupt, “if I had a grain of sense I wouldn’t’ve followed you down the hall, wouldn’t be standing here now. But I did, and I am, and the longer you put this off the more I’m thinking I might just have to kiss you. And God knows neither of us wants that.”

  Aaaand of course, Tess’s eyes immediately dropped to his mouth. If only for a moment.

  Let’s hear it for sobriety, yea, she thought, then blinked, dragging her gaze back up. Yeah, like that helped. Because every fraction deeper Eli’s eyes dipped into hers, the more the final, frail thread that had barely held her together for the past year shredded. But she’d already said more, revealed more, than she’d intended….

  “You’re insane,” she muttered, turning back to the wall.

  “No, just horny. And concerned. Really bad combination. And you’ve got three seconds to start talking. One…”

  “I thought we’d agreed—”

  “Yeah, well, things change. Two…”

  “Oh, for God’s sake—give me a moment, okay?” She bent down to reload the dry roller, then shooed Eli out of her way to attack the next section of wall. His scent, his presence, swamped the small, airless space, permeating her very being and annoying the life out of her. Because clearly sobriety only went so far. As in, she had control over her actions, and even over her head. Over her body, though? Not so much.

  Over the ache of being lonely and alone for far too long?

  Not at all.

  Even so, as she muscled the poor, hapless roller, it occurred to her she could play the scenario to her own advantage, satisfying Mr. Worried Eyes while still staying in control. That sometimes, the truth is a girl’s best friend.

  Or at least enough of it to get her point across.

  “Okay,” she said at last, reloading the roller, waiting out the stab of pain before starting up again, her strokes becoming faster, shorter. Angrier. “I was in love with Enrique, Eli. Like, seriously in love.” She glanced over; no reaction. “I thought it was mutual. And maybe it was, at the beginning. Until he decided his country needed him more than I did.”

  Leaning perilously close to the freshly painted wall, she shook her head. “Okay, that came out a little harsh, because I totally supported his decision to enlist after 9/11. I was scared to death for him,” she said, resuming her painting, “but I was more scared of what might happen if people like Ricky didn’t do something. But every time he came home on leave, things got…harder.”

  “In what way?”

  “Before he left? We hardly ever argued. Suddenly we were fighting about everything. Mostly—” the rolling picked up speed again “—about…how…I was doing things. Decisions I’d had to make on my own…because he wasn’t there
, or stuff I didn’t feel…I should be bothering him about. You know, because…he had a lot more pressing things…on his plate than whether or not…we needed a new couch—”

  The roller flew out of her hand; Eli caught it and tried to set it in the pan, but Tess grabbed it again, needing to keep moving. To roll away the anger, the memories.

  “Enrique rarely talked about his experiences over there. Something about not wanting to ‘infect us.’ But I’ve read and heard enough…” Squatting in front of the pan to refill it, she sighed. “As hard as it was for me, dealing with the kids and everything on my own, that was a walk in the park compared with what he faced every day. So I figured it was up to me to make sure he had normal and sane and peaceful to come home to, so we could pick up where we’d left off as much as possible…”

  “But…?” Eli prompted when she paused.

  “But it was like somebody’d poured acid on our marriage—once the corrosion starts, there’s not a whole lot you can do to stop it.” She paused, breathing hard. “I knew Ricky felt like a stranger in his own house, after being away so much. Worse, though, was that we felt like strangers to each other.” Turning, she said, “You want to know why the thought of Luis going over there makes me ill? Besides the obvious, I mean? Because doing that…it changes people. And not always for the better.” She faced the wall again. “Every time Ricky came back, I saw less and less of the man I fell in love with, and it broke my heart. By the end, it was like we were standing on opposite sides of this big, soundproof window—we could see each other but not hear each other.”

  “Aren’t there programs—?”

  “We tried ’em all. Counseling, couples’ retreats, you name it. Nothing worked.”

  “Then you did everything you could.”

  A half laugh preceded, “You would think, right? Except he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Because I had, too. I’d become stronger, more capable, while he was gone. Not that I had much choice. But…”

  Tess doused the roller once again. “But as a sergeant, Ricky was used to being in charge. Ordering people around. Unfortunately, that didn’t turn off when he came home. And after so long of being the sole decision-maker I couldn’t simply be…what he wanted me to be.” Her mouth flattened. “Needed me to be, I guess—the little woman who could make him feel in control of something in his life.”

  She heard Eli shift behind her. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning…he found someone else.”

  There was a long silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic rasp of the roller against the wall. “Overseas?” Eli finally asked.

  “Yeah. Some gal in the vehicle maintenance unit, apparently. It didn’t last long—her tour ended before his did, and she went back to her husband in Oklahoma. He didn’t tell me until he was out for good. Nor did he sound particularly remorseful.”

  “So you threw him out on his butt?”

  “He left before I got the chance. Although, if he’d wanted to work things out, I might’ve still shoved my pride where the sun don’t shine and tried to get past the infidelity. Give him the benefit of the doubt—you know, the stress of circumstances made him do it and all that? But Ricky all but admitted he wouldn’t have cheated if it hadn’t already been over between us.” She felt her mouth pull into a tight smile. “He wanted out, Eli. Wanted out of our marriage a heckuva lot more than he ever wanted out of the army, since he re-upped of his own accord.”

  “What about the kids?”

  Tess snorted. “He seemed happy enough to get me pregnant—both times—but…I don’t know. Maybe if he’d been around more, he would’ve grown closer to them. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. Still hasn’t. It breaks Micky’s heart.”

  “Not nearly as much as it breaks yours, I bet.”

  The wall done, her head about to explode from Eli’s kindness, Tess plopped the roller into the sink to rinse it. “No, what really broke my heart was not having clue one about how to make the pieces fit. How to be what Ricky needed me to be without losing myself. All those years of trying to keep those homefires burning, only to find out I was the one fighting the losing battle. And now…” Yanking a paper towel off a nearby roll to wipe her hands, she looked at Eli, knowing her very survival depended on ignoring what she saw in his eyes. “What the kids and I have…it’s not ideal, but it’s working. Finally. Letting someone else into my life, their lives…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to find that balance, Eli. And I’m not sure I have the energy to try again.”

  After a moment, he nodded. “In away, I can understand that.”

  Well, knock her over with a feather. “You…do?”

  “Sure. Getting tangled up with somebody—especially when there’s kids involved—you gotta ask yourself if it’s worth it, you know?”

  “That’s it exactly,” she said, even as she caught the brief shadow scuttling across his face. “I’m tired, Eli. Tired of loving people who don’t love me back, tired of believing in something that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for m-me—”

  Dude. What’s up with the catch in the throat?

  Clearing that throat, she added, “So that’s the story. Was it good for you?”

  “You are too much,” Eli said softly, then pushed out a breath. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Tess. Truly sorry. But I’m glad you told me.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet,” he said, straightening again. Making her jump slightly when his hand closed around hers. “I just have to say, though…not everybody who goes ‘over there’ comes back messed up. Some do, sure, but not all. Just like not every man cheats, no matter how much people say we’re hardwired that way.”

  When she gave him raised eyebrows, he chuckled again. And let go. Took a sec for her nerve cells to catch on. Idiots.

  “I didn’t cheat on you, Tess. I never even looked at whatshername while you and I were still together. I’ve never two-timed any woman I’ve been with. Not my style. And some men, when they fall in love? They’re more’n happy to just lay there with that one woman for the rest of their lives. Not saying you haven’t had a real bad run of luck, honey,” he said quietly. “But there’s nothing sayin’ your luck can’t change. And one more thing—just because your marriage failed, that doesn’t mean you did.”

  He finally, finally turned to leave. Only when Tess should have been breathing out a sigh of relief, she said, “Hey. Question.”

  Eli twisted around. “Yeah?”

  “If…I hadn’t opened up…would you have kissed me?”

  Another frown preceded a long, rough sigh, which in turn led to an equally rough, sexy-as-all-hell chuckle. “I’ve also never forced myself on a woman. Never saw the fun in that. But I’m not above takin’ advantage of an opportunity. As you well know,” he added, his eyes fixed on hers. “So I guess…it would’ve depended.”

  “On what?”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “Maybe you should think about why you’re even asking these questions,” he said, then left, his footsteps as he tromped down the wood-floored hallway echoing in her empty brain.

  Chapter Eight

  Even though Thanksgiving was right on top of them, the weather warmed up enough over the next few days so that Eli could replace the exterior trim around the windows without worrying about frostbite. Even more fortunately, Tess had been so busy with kids and new clients she’d only been able to pop in once a day to check on things, scooting back out with little more than a grateful smile and a “Looking good, guys.”

  Good thing, too, because whenever Eli was around her he found himself considering options not even anywhere near the table, let alone on it. Options he’d tabled indefinitely more than eight years ago. But man, had it been a shock to discover, when she’d told him she wasn’t pregnant that he’d frankly been a mite disappointed.

  Talk about a What the hell? moment.

  He dipped a small brush into the zonk-blue paint Tess had picked out, then held the wet brush up to the c
loudless sky. Yep. Same color. Of course, he mused as he began to paint the primed wood, he supposed it wasn’t all that far-fetched, him getting broody. Turning thirty did that to a person. However, even though Tierra Rosa had heard a slew of unexpected “I dos” this past little while, he imagined the Happy Ever After fairy had moved on by now.

  And anyway, her kids were a deal breaker, even if she had been interested.

  Even if it galled the hell out of him, the way she’d taken the lion’s share of the responsibility for her marriage going bust on herself.

  Even if the emptiness of his house seemed to taunt him more and more, when he’d fix himself dinner and sit at his table and find himself thinking how nice it would be to see Tess’s animated face on the other side, hear her laughter. Dodge her ribbing. Maybelline did her best, but she didn’t laugh much.

  Nor was this the kind of loneliness assuaged by some casual hookup that’d only leave him feeling emptier afterward than before. No, this feeling of, of something missing went bone deep, soul deep, so deep Eli couldn’t even see bottom.

  But him and Tess? Pfft. Wasn’t a house big enough in town to hold their combined baggage.

  A truck roared up behind him; he didn’t pay it any mind. These days somebody was always coming or going.

  “That is some kinda blue,” his brother Silas said, followed immediately by his five-year-old nephew’s, “Can I help, Unca Eli?”

  “I’m real sorry, sport,” Eli said with a grin for Oliver, his heart melting as usual at the sight of those big brown eyes underneath English choirboy bangs. “But not this time. It’s gotta go on just perfect.” Eli pulled a face. “Boring. You’d hate it.”

  “Nuh-uh—”

  “Ollie. Enough.” Balancing Tad, the “baby,” on his hip, Silas slammed shut the truck door and came closer, the afternoon sun glancing off the sharp nose and high cheekbones he’d gotten from their mother.

  Eli grinned for the blond toddler, a year or so older than Tess’s little girl, then squinted at his brother. “What brings you up here?”