by Mallory Rush
She watched as he fingered his patch.
"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "I see your point. It was probably best at the time, but that time's past and I think you should grant me the courtesy of realizing I had the right to intercede by calling them last night."
"No," she said. "You had no right to do what was my responsibility."
"And if you'd taken care of it sooner I wouldn't have had any reason to assume your responsibility."
Mariah realized he was right, but that didn't make her like being in the wrong one bit better.
"Point to you," she admitted reluctantly. "But there's something that bothers me even more than that phone call. You knew everything before you asked me a single question last night. You knew! The whole time you were forcing my hand, you had the answers already, but you asked anyway. Why, Sol? Checking up to see if my conscience was in good working order or if you'd married a compulsive liar?"
"Anyone as transparent as you could use some lessons in the fine art of lying. Your conscience has been almost a living, breathing person around here. My reasons went a lot deeper than you seem to understand. Where's the soap?" Getting on his knees, he fished around the tub, between her legs and around her squirming rear before his hand emerged with the bar. He glided it down her stiffened spine.
"As we both know, Mariah, I could have come in that barn last night and laid it all out. But I wanted the truth to come from you, not them."
"Well, you got it, so I hope you're satisfied. Your methods weren't exactly nice."
"There was more at stake last night than niceties—such as what our marriage was made of if push came to shove. Lean back."
His hands were in her hair now, massaging the herbal shampoo into the hay-littered strands. How could he be so thoughtful when they were in the middle of an argument? she wondered distractedly. She wanted to hang on to her renewed anger, but the gentle fingertips kneading her scalp were making it hard.
"You scared me, backing me into the stall like that. Was that really necessary to find out what we were 'made of'?"
"I was madder than a provoked badger, baby. You'd been shutting me out long enough and I wanted the bare bones, every little wrinkle in your brilliant brain. After my chat with your father I understood enough to accept what you'd done. What I couldn't accept was anything coming between us, not when I felt I'd proven myself worthy of your trust. I got what I wanted, and don't ever try to take it back. I'll never accept anything less than all of you."
"And if I hadn't confessed, could you have accepted it?"
"No. It was a crucial moment for us, whether you realized it then or not." His thumbs were on her temples, soothing away her tension.
"What do you mean by 'crucial'? That I'd be packing my bags while you decided you had grounds for a divorce?"
Sol's face hardened. "Don't ever mention that word to me, because it never was and never will be an option for us. It's just that shading the truth to begin with was one thing, but a breach of trust at this stage would have been damaging to our marriage. We'd have had a lot more bridges to mend than what we've got to patch together now."
She knew she shouldn't say it—their emotions were too raw to dig at the sore—but say it she did. "Enough damage for you to pay Desiree a visit—"
"Forget Desiree for once, would you? She's not the issue and is the last thing I want to think about with your parents on their way."
"Well, what about me?" Mariah shoved a finger at his chest. "Don't I count? Do you have any idea what it's like for me, knowing you were engaged to that woman?"
"How do you know that?" he demanded.
"Like you, I have my sources."
"Desiree?" he bit out. "It was Desiree, wasn't it? Dammit, I warned her—"
"Warned her?" Mariah gaped in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you've seen her or—"
"Crap!" Sol dropped his face into his hands and blew a gust of disgusted air between his lips. After long moments, he looked up. "Yes, Mariah, I have seen Desiree. And I intended to tell you as soon as—"
"All this prattling about trust and me with my dark secrets," she said through pinched lips. Her heart stumbled as jealousy, quick and acute, reared its ugly head. "So how did she look, Sol? Was she wearing anything more than her cologne when you had your rendezvous?"
"Shut up, Mariah!"
She felt as if he'd physically struck her. She blinked against the sudden sting behind her eyes and tilted up her trembling chin.
"Forget I said anything." Her voice was subdued, wounded, but carried a hint of sarcasm. "It's none of my business, of course."
"Of course it's your business." Sol caught her chin and speared her with a sharp look. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you like that, but Desiree hits a nerve with me. She's one of the blights in my life I wish didn't exist."
"But she does exist," Mariah said quietly, her hurt fading in the face of how deep his ran. "Tell me about her, Sol. Why you went to see her. Please. I need to know."
"I went to tell her to back off." Sol hesitated, then his eyes took on a distant cast. "You see, Mariah, Desiree and I go way back—even before she was head cheerleader and I was captain of the football team who lost our virginity together on homecoming night." He laughed a little cynically. "Sounds pretty trite, but that's what happened.
"Seemed the natural thing to do after what we'd been to each other. We'd played doctor as kids, and I gave her my ID bracelet in junior high. She wore my letter jacket in high school and my senior ring before I'd even worn it myself. I can still see that ugly white tape wrapped a jillion times around my ring so it wouldn't fall off her finger."
Mariah felt something thick lodge in the back of her throat. She knew too well the picture he drew, only she'd watched it from a distance. Beth had had all those things, while she'd grieved and cursed in silence because she'd craved them and had been denied.
Not that she could ever have been one of "them." But she'd deserved the right to try. Mariah swallowed against the lump of resentment. She'd resolved her envy of Beth years ago; but hearing of Desiree's past with her husband reopened the wound and filled it full of salt.
"I'm sure you made a handsome couple on homecoming night," she said, hiding her bitterness. "King and queen?"
"That's right. I scored the winning touchdown, then hit a home run in the backseat of Ma and Dad's car. I think they suspected, what with Dad tossing a box of condoms on my bed and saying, 'Whatever you do, son, just don't get that girl pregnant.' Of course, I'd had one in my billfold for over a year by then, just in case."
"And your mother?"
"She didn't approve of Desiree any more than Dad, not that Ma was impolite to her. She just had a way of waiting up for me on my dates and saying for as long as I can remember, 'She's not for you, son. Wait for the right girl.' Not that my hormones listened. And being a teenager I felt a sense of independence by going against their wishes."
"You mean, the less they approved, the more you did."
"Exactly." The look he gave Mariah conveyed his belief that she was presently guilty of the same rebellion against her own parents—and him. "Anyway, I won a football scholarship to the University of Wisconsin in Madison, and that put several hundred miles between us."
"Desiree didn't follow you?"
"She did, but she decided to major in clothes, parties, and sex—with other guys. She flunked out the first year, and not even her daddy's money could get her back in."
"Too bad," Mariah muttered sarcastically.
"Best thing that ever happened to me, though it hurt like hell when I found out she was fooling around. And I can't tell you how relieved my folks were. Predictably, Desiree and I grew apart."
"You mean you grew and she stagnated, waiting for you."
"Desiree doesn't give up that easy. For a long time, even after I broke up with her, she burned up the phone wires trying to keep tabs on me, and she had a way of driving down in her new sports car unannounced on weekends. Found me in bed once with a girl. Whew, what
a scene. Anyway, after I graduated I came home and saw her for what she really was. She hadn't changed a bit and I realized she never would. I lost all my respect for her then. She'd developed quite a reputation as an easy lay around here. You pretty much know what happened right after that."
"You signed up and took off."
"Yep."
When he didn't continue, Mariah's brow furrowed. "There's more, isn't there? I mean, you were engaged."
"Unfortunately, yes. Two years ago, my father's nightmare came true. I got Desiree pregnant."
Mariah stared at him. Her stomach bottomed out.
"Did you lose your wallet?" she asked, unable to stop the jealous, petty remark. Sol winced, then frowned.
"I didn't know you then. And believe me, I more than paid for my stupidity. I was here on leave, and I got into an old argument with Dad about why I didn't want to stay and work on the farm. I walked out on him, went to a bar, and got plastered. Desiree was there and she... made herself available to me. A month later when I was back overseas, I got a phone call from her that wiped me out. I didn't hesitate to ask her to marry me. The fact that I didn't love her made no difference. Owning up to my responsibilities did."
"I wouldn't expect any less of you, Sol." Even as she said it, Mariah cringed at the thought of how dangerously close she'd come to losing him. "What happened? Did she miscarry?"
"She aborted it," he said in a flat tone. Mariah made a strangled sound. "Oh, she insisted it was a miscarriage when I confronted her with it, but she'd already confided in her best friend, who just couldn't keep such a juicy piece of gossip to herself. News travels fast in a small town, and my parents made sure it reached me."
"How horrible. Why did she do it? Why—"
"Desiree's very figure-conscious, so maybe she was worried she wouldn't fit into her wedding gown. Hell, who knows with her? And she never did like kids. Anyway, I was coming home in a few weeks for the wedding, and I'm sure she didn't plan on telling me about the baby until after we'd gotten married. Fortunately, I found out sooner."
"Thank God," Mariah whispered, then laid a comforting hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, Sol."
Sol nodded sadly and sighed heavily. "Well, that's the story. It's done and over with and a part of my life I'm glad to have behind me. If you've got any more questions about Desiree, spit them out now. I don't want to go through all this again because it gives me an ill feeling to remember it."
"No," Mariah said slowly, "no more questions about Desiree, Sol. And I promise not to bring her up again, since I know the truth."
"Then we'll call ourselves even. Now," he said decisively, "enough about my dark secrets. We've got two frantic parents who are going to be here in a few hours and will doubtless do their best to wedge us apart. That's why they're coming, you know—to try to make you see reason and take you back to their home."
"Well, it's not mine. Not anymore and never again."
"That's right, so just keep that in mind while they're here. Our unsettled business can wait; theirs can't. For the time being we put our problems on hold, slap a smile on our faces, and pretend everything's hunky-dory."
"You're right—we do need to present a united front." Curious, she added, "What did you tell them, anyway?"
"Not much. Just that I'd convinced you to remarry me while they were gone and we were eager to have them visit our home so they could see how happy we are."
"You covered for me," she said in disbelief. "Why?"
"You're my wife, that's why. And while I was at it, Beth got a break too. Your father said she'd concocted another story, so I explained that it was our doing for wanting to give them the big news ourselves. As for the other interesting topics— particularly your 'gift'—I insinuated I already knew and that we'd discuss everything once they arrived."
"I don't believe it. You took up for me when you had every reason not to."
"For such a genius, love, you've been a little slow on the uptake. It's what I've been trying to tell you—we stick together no matter what." He got up with unexpected ease, and reached for a towel. "Lying goes against my grain," he continued, "just as nodding your head and going along with anything I say or do today likely will with you. Do it anyway. Understood?"
Her hair rinsed, Mariah got out of the tub. Sol patted her dry, lingering over her breasts and the V of her thighs. He started to wrap the towel about her, then discarded it to take in her nakedness.
"I understand." She understood plenty. He wanted to kiss and make up. They weren't through with certain issues, not by a long shot, but given his unstinting support, when a lesser man would have dumped her in the mess she'd made instead of cleaning up after her, Mariah decided she'd gladly give him a kiss. Kisses were good for hurts, too, and she wanted to ease away the pain she and Desiree had caused him.
Stretching out in feline fashion, she felt a glowing tingle spread over her skin. The girl who had run on their honeymoon night was now a woman who stood here without modesty, wearing nothing but an expression of pleasure in his appreciative gaze, which now darkened with purpose.
She needed to bond with him in that purpose, to join intimate forces before confronting the opposition. She and Sol were strong. His strength came from years and experience; hers may have been there all along, but only under his guidance was she swiftly coming into her own.
Laying her hand over his arm, she gripped him tight. "Together we stand," she vowed.
"And divided we fall. Whatever you do, don't dispute me in front of your parents. Wait until we're alone." His smile was brief; his caress of her breast anything but. "These first-year dues are hell to pay, aren't they?"
"They are." Hastily unbuttoning his shirt, she pressed a kiss to his scar. "But no pain, no gain. And strange as it is, I feel that we've gotten a dividend from our mistakes. That somehow we're more than what we were." Resting her head against his chest, she felt his arms come around her and his lips nuzzle her hair.
"Here I thought I knew so much about settling differences, and you go expanding the rules. Marriage being a lifelong deal, we should be real smart by the time we advance to even bigger and better mistakes."
She dreaded them already. Then again, perhaps it was true that the bumps and jolts along the way were more important than a too-easy ride. I needed to find out what our marriage was made of if push came to shove. His words came back to her with new meaning.
"You went against your principles for me, even though I've done little to deserve it," she said. "I'm sorry for more than my deceit—my lack of faith in you as a person and a mate deserves an apology too. What we are is not weak, Sol. I owe you for making me realize that, among other things."
"You owe me nothing, because you're my wife."
"Even without the marriage certificate?"
"What kind of crazy talk is that, woman? Of course you're my wife. That's just a piece of legalese confirming the vows we already took." He stamped his assertion with a kiss, then moved away. "We've got a few hours before they get here. Let's go build on the ammunition we've already got."
Mariah blinked. She must be seeing things. Impossible. He couldn't have taken those two steps before retrieving his crutches and hooking a thumb in the bedroom's direction. Could he?
Chapter 16
"Care for a beer, Tom? Wine, Nita?"
"None for me, thank you," Dr. Garnet said. "Nita?"
Nita Garnet shook her head, her gaze remaining on Mariah and Sol. "Iced tea might be nice."
"Baby, you care to brew some for your mother?"
Mariah forced herself to smile. The introductions, made while her parents had openly stared at Sol's crutches and patch, had been strained enough; Sol calling them by their first names instead of addressing them as "Doctor and Mrs." heightened the underlying tension. And now she was biting her tongue to keep from saying she wasn't about to leave the room. Sol had a propensity for bluntness, and Mariah knew diplomacy was the best way to handle her parents.
When she hesitated, Sol prompted, "M
ariah, the tea?"
"Oh, of course, darling," she said. As she moved past him, Sol caught her hand and pulled her down for a kiss. Mariah stiffened when he lengthened it and patted her rear end affectionately in front of her parents! By the time she exited to the kitchen, her anxiety had increased tenfold.
Between putting on the kettle and fiddling with tea bags, Mariah kept her ears glued to the door.
"Nice farm," her father said brusquely.
"We like it. Three generations strong and more on the horizon, Tom. You and Nita will have to visit often. Especially once grandchildren enter the big picture."
"'Grandchildren'?" her mother echoed with dismay. Peeking around the corner, Mariah saw her mother sweeping back her lovely hair, her equally perfect beauty scored by a "surely you can't be serious" expression. "Years in the future, perhaps, but Mariah's still a child. She has no business bearing children until she's embraced her destiny."
"Her destiny is her own, Nita," Sol said flatly. Mariah fought the urge to bound into the living room to cheer; at the same time she wanted to gag him and diffuse the escalating turbulence with some tact.
"Beyond that," he continued, "we decide when and where our future lies, and that includes offspring. No disrespect intended, but did either of you ask your parents' permission to get married, to get pregnant, where you could live, or what profession to pursue?"
Mariah clamped a hand over her mouth. Good Lord, he'd actually said that to them! Innuendo was one thing, but such deliberate head-bashing was beyond her parents' standard of acceptable behavior.
"Now see here, young man," Tom Garnet said. "This is our daughter you're talking about, and she's certainly no ordinary young girl, not to mention—"
"Not to mention, I'm her husband. And while we're on the subject of being ordinary, if you'd given her a chance at living an ordinary life, she might not have sought refuge with me. Back off, Tom. Chill out, Nita. Mariah needs some room to breathe and she's a grown woman, perfectly able to make her own decisions. In fact, I say we get her in here now to do just that."