Native Affairs

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “Go to bed, Tracy.”

  “Yes, boss.” Tracy saluted and disappeared through the door.

  Marisa lay down on the bed Tracy had vacated, trying to work up the energy to undress. She felt exhilarated and drained at the same time, which hardly seemed possible but was true, nevertheless. After a short while she turned off the bedside lamp and lay staring at the ceiling in the dark.

  In two minutes she was asleep.

  * * *

  Jack sat back in the porch glider and stared up at the half moon hanging in the sky above the trees. Sleep was out of the question and the blank, glowing computer screen on the desk just inside the door was a mute reminder that he couldn’t work, either. In fact, he hadn’t been able to do anything at all since returning from his date with Marisa except think about her.

  A loon called in the marsh beyond the border of his rental property, and the cry was answered by squawking nocturnal birds and humming insects. The Florida night was alive, and it made him feel less alone as he contemplated his life and his next move.

  Jack had rented this isolated cabin, two miles in from the interstate on a dirt road, in order to have peace and quiet for his work. He had grown fond of the spot and had been thinking about buying the place when his six month lease was up at the end of December. Of course, that might depend on how things went with Marisa. If they went any further at all.

  Marisa was intelligent enough to know that they were at a crossroads; they weren’t kids and the sexual tension between them was becoming unbearable. They were either going to do something about it or go their separate ways. He was alarmed to discover that he found the second possibility almost frightening.

  Jack propped his feet up on the porch banister and the glider creaked with the movement. It was amazing how important this woman had become to him in such a short time. He found it difficult to concentrate on anything but his pursuit of her, and he didn’t want to ruin his chances with her by taking the wrong step. He felt as uncertain as a schoolboy, but determined to have her anyway. For the first time in a long while he felt reckless and uncontrolled. If somebody tried to take her away from him now he’d fight for her.

  Nobody had better get in his way. He stood purposefully and went back into the house.

  * * *

  Marisa dressed in a denim skirt and a flowered blouse for her date with Jack the next night. She was putting gold hoops in her ears when Tracy looked through the connecting door and groaned.

  “Don’t start,” Marisa said warningly.

  “That blouse buttons up to your eyeballs,” Tracy said. “Don’t you have anything with a scoop neck?”

  “No.”

  “What are you wearing underneath?” Tracy asked.

  Marisa threw her a disgusted glance.

  “All right, all right. I always get lucky when I’m sporting the most ragged, ridiculous underwear I own. I was just trying to give you the benefit of my experience. It’s best to be prepared,” Tracy said. She disappeared briefly and then returned, proffering a hinged bangle bracelet set with tiny diamond chips.

  “Wear this,” she said. “For luck.”

  Marisa took the florentined ornament and clasped it around her wrist. “Thank you.”

  Tracy sighed. “I wish I were getting ready for a big date. The only men I’ve met down here are the gay doorman and Lasky’s court clerk, who shows me sweet pictures of his grandchildren.”

  “Your time will come.”

  “Not soon enough for me.”

  Marisa picked up her purse.

  Tracy gave her a thumbs up signal. “Win one for the gipper,” she said.

  Marisa was still smiling as she stepped off the elevator and saw Jack waiting in the lobby. He turned as if he sensed that she had arrived and his eyes met hers across the expanse that separated them. He was wearing a ribbed cotton sweater in a light maize color with tan cord jeans and leather boat shoes. When he moved toward her Marisa felt as if everyone else in the room had disappeared and left them alone together.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hello.”

  “My car is parked in the underground garage,” he said.

  The gallery was on the other side of town, in a converted loft building near the developing suburbs. They parked across the street from it and approached the brightly lit exterior hand in hand. Marisa felt Jack hesitate when he saw that several of the militant young Indians who had picketed the courthouse were lounging in the doorway.

  “Jack, this was a bad idea,” she said quickly, stopping. “I just didn’t think about it. You shouldn’t be seen with me here. Let’s go.”

  “The hell with that,” he replied, his grip on her hand tightening as he tugged her along. “Come on.”

  Marisa inched closer to him and kept her eyes fixed on the ground as they approached the door. She felt the scrutiny of the onlookers, and then Jack shoved her behind him abruptly as one of the young men stepped into their path.

  “Bluewolf,” the youth said evenly.

  “Forest,” Jack replied in the same tone.

  “I hope you’re not planning to bring that lady inside,” Jim Forest said, and there was no mistaking his sneering emphasis on the word “lady.”

  “Why not?” Jack said flatly. “I thought this gallery was open to the public.”

  “She’s not the public. She’s the enemy,” Jim replied.

  “Jim, you’re confusing the issue,” Jack said wearily. “Grow up before you open your mouth and make a fool of yourself again. Now let me by.” Jack made as if to pass Jim and the latter shoved him, hard. Jack stumbled and Marisa gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.

  “Jack, please,” she begged, desperate to avoid an incident. Why on earth hadn’t she guessed that something like this might happen? Jack had her so befuddled that she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “Get your girlfriend out of here before something unpleasant happens to her,” Jim said in a bullying tone.

  “Nothing at all is going to happen to her,” Jack said grimly, recovering his balance and grabbing Jim by the lapels of his jacket.

  “Not as long as she has an apple like you running interference for her,” Jim said, struggling in Jack’s grip.

  Jack’s fist shot out so quickly that Jim was lying on the ground before Marisa knew what had happened.

  “Get him out of here,” Jack said tightly to Jim’s companions, who were hovering uncertainly in the background, awaiting the outcome of the confrontation. They dragged the semiconscious boy to his feet and lugged him around the corner of the building.

  “Jack, should we check and make sure he’s all right?” Marisa asked anxiously.

  “He’ll survive, if the thickness of his intellect is any indication of the thickness of his skull,” Jack replied, shaking the hand he had just used on Jim. Its knuckles were reddened and already beginning to swell.

  “You shouldn’t have hit him,” Marisa said in dismay.

  “Yes, I should. He’s the worst of the bunch. He’s been asking for somebody to take him down for a while. Unless I miss my guess it was his bright idea for Jeff Rivertree to shoot you. Jeff is just the gullible type to be used by a manipulator like Forest.”

  “What did he mean by calling you an apple?” Marisa asked.

  “Red on the outside, white on the inside,” Jack replied, glancing over at her.

  “I see. That was a reference to me then, to your choice of companions.”

  “That was a reference to his own idiocy. Nobody has the right to question my commitment to Indian affairs, least of all a layabout like Jim Forest, who hasn’t done anything except run his mouth for the last ten years while I and a lot of other people have been working.” Jack pushed his hair back off his forehead and then peered at Marisa intently. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Of course not, Jack. This is awful. I would never want to be the source of problems for you.”

  “You never could be.”

  “What do you call what just happened
?”

  “I call that a juvenile delinquent looking for an excuse to make trouble. The unfortunate thing about any cause, no matter how noble, is that a small lunatic fringe will be attracted to it for all the wrong reasons. Now let’s take a stroll and look at the pictures.”

  “You don’t mean you want to go inside after all?” Marisa asked him, aghast.

  “I’m not going to let a lout like that drive me away,” he said firmly, taking Marisa’s hand again.

  They were the objects of some staring once they walked through the door, but after a while everybody seemed to forget they were there. Jack stayed just long enough to make his point, commenting on paintings and sculpture and woven wall hangings while everything went past Marisa in a blur. She didn’t draw a comfortable breath until they were back out on the street and heading for Jack’s car.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” she said as he unlocked her door for her. “If I have any more bright ideas like that one please institutionalize me until I regain my senses.”

  Jack walked around and slid onto the seat next to her, then started the car.

  “Why didn’t you tell me to pick another destination last night?” she asked him.

  “You seemed to want to go to the gallery,” he replied.

  “I was just trying to think of someplace public where we wouldn’t...” she stopped short.

  He let it pass.

  “You must have guessed there might be… some unpleasantness,” Marisa said, after a pregnant pause.

  “Well, I didn’t know Jim Forest would be there. That was just bad luck.”

  “Don’t be evasive. Obviously your seeing me has not been popular with your friends.”

  “They’re not my friends.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I do what I want,” he said baldly. “If they can’t separate your professional duties from your personal life that’s their problem, not mine.”

  Marisa saw that it was best to let the subject drop.

  He looked over at her. “Where to?” he said, as he guided the car out into the street.

  Marisa took a deep breath.

  “I hear that the house where you’re staying is in a very pretty spot,” she said. “I’d like to see it.”

  Jack stopped for a traffic light and turned to look at Marisa, his arm across the back of the seat.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked quietly, searching her face.

  “Yes.”

  “Everything will be up to you,” he added. “If you just want to visit and then go home, that will be fine.”

  Marisa nodded, her heart racing.

  Jack turned left for the interstate and then drove for ten minutes before turning off onto a secondary road, then turning again onto an unpaved track which ran through scrub pines and citrus tress.

  “It looks very... private,” Marisa said nervously.

  “It is. This is my second attempt in two days to take you to a remote area and then have my way with you.”

  When Marisa didn’t reply Jack looked over at her.

  “Bad joke,” he added ruefully.

  Marisa said nothing.

  Jack stopped the car and threw it into reverse.

  “What are you doing?” Marisa asked, glancing around.

  “You look like you’re on your way to a funeral, which is not exactly the feeling I was hoping to inspire,” he said dryly.

  Marisa put her hand over his on the steering wheel.

  “It’s not you, Jack, it’s me,” she said quietly. “I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?” he asked, looking at her intently, the car engine idling beneath them.

  “Ah, this isn’t easy to say.”

  “You’ve decided I’m the biggest jerk you’ve ever met.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You got a telegram today from your doctor saying that you’re dying of a rare disease.”

  “Don’t joke about something like that,” she said testily.

  “Barring those two cases, nothing else matters.” He gunned the motor forward again.

  “But you don’t understand...” she began.

  “Yes, I do. We’ll talk about it inside, all right?”

  Marisa sighed and subsided. There was no reason to carry on this conversation in the car. He was right. It could wait.

  They pulled into a clearing in front of an old fashioned farmhouse with a wide porch and an oak paneled door. Marisa emerged from the car to find that an evening breeze had sprung up, rustling the trees surrounding them and providing a counterpoint to the calls of the nightbirds from the marsh.

  “This is so lovely, Jack,” she said, following him onto the wooden steps.

  “Yeah, it’s been a great place to work. It’s part of an estate. The daughter lives up north and doesn’t want it, so the lawyer handling the will is trying to unload it.”

  “Have you been thinking of buying it?”

  “I’d like to,” he said, unlocking the door, “but I’m not sure it would be worth the money. I don’t know how often I’d be able to get here.”

  “After the case is over, you mean.”

  He turned to look at her as he switched on the light. “Yes. I won’t be in Florida much longer.”

  On that cheerful note, Marisa walked into the living room, which ran the width of the house. There was a fieldstone fireplace which took up most of one wall, a large rag rug on the floor in front of it, and rustic native pine furniture filling the open space. Through the doorway she could see a vintage kitchen and behind it, a stairwell ascending to the second floor. Where the bedrooms were, she supposed.

  “It’s getting chilly, would you like a fire?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble, it’s all set. I just have to put a match to it.” He picked up a pack of matches from the mantel and struck one, then lit the crumpled newspapers folded against the wrought iron screen. Marisa watched as they smoldered and caught fire, the flames licking the logs piled on top of them.

  “There, it will be warm in a few minutes. This house is built like a hospital, with cross ventilation. It’s always cool, a real advantage in Florida. The old guy who designed it knew what he was doing. He built most of this furniture, too.” He gathered up a stack of papers from the wide chair in front of the fireplace and added, “Have a seat.”

  Marisa sat down.

  “Do you want a drink? Coffee or tea?”

  Marisa shook her head.

  He clapped his hands together. “Well, I’m running out of small talk. How about those Dolphins?”

  Marisa smiled thinly.

  He came and sat next to her. “What is it?” he said.

  Marisa looked at him, so handsome, so desirable, his face alive with intelligence and concern. With a sound like a sob she flung her arms around his neck.

  “Hey, hey,” he said gently, his arms coming around her immediately. “Take it easy. I’m not forcing anything on you. I’ll take you back to the hotel right now if...”

  “I do want you, I do,” she whispered fiercely, interrupting him. “So much.”

  “You got me, babe. Here I am.”

  Marisa drew back and fingered the cabling around the neck of his sweater.

  “There’s something you have to know,” she said slowly.

  “I think I already know,” he replied.

  Marisa stared at him.

  “I know that you’re a... beginner.”

  “Beginner?” Marisa said slowly.

  “With men.”

  Marisa closed her eyes as the blood rushed into her face. “Has it been that obvious?” she said in an agonized whisper, finding that possibility unbearable.

  “Of course not. In fact I thought just the opposite until Tracy told me.”

  “I’ll kill her,” Marisa said, not opening her eyes.

  “Don’t feel that way. She did us both a favor.”

  Marisa still couldn’t look at him.r />
  “I was about to give up on you,” he said earnestly. “She made your behavior understandable and gave me some hope, don’t you see that?” He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear and her lashes lifted.

  “You must have been laughing at me all this while,” she said miserably.

  He pulled her back into his arms. “Sweetheart, no. I admit that at first I could hardly believe it.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “But when I had time to think about it, some of the things you had done became...”

  “Less idiotic?” she supplied.

  “More reasonable.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t run screaming for the trees.”

  “Why would I do that? It just convinced me that what I had suspected from the beginning was true.”

  “That I’m stunted?”

  “That you’re a very special person.”

  “Oh, Jack.” She hugged him tighter, and when he turned his head and kissed her she responded with all her heart.

  Jack slipped his arm under her legs and lifted her bodily onto the loveseat, so that she was lying across his lap. Her mouth opened under his and she tasted his tongue as he kissed her deeply. She ran her hands down his back, slipping them under his sweater to touch his bare skin. Jack groaned and pressed her down into the cushions as she sank her fingers into the thick, blade straight hair at the back of his neck. His lips traveled to her throat and he pushed her collar aside impatiently. His hand fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and he muttered an oath.

  “What?” she said.

  “I can’t do this, I’m shaking,” he said, exasperated.

  “Oh, look at your poor hand,” Marisa said, sitting up and seizing it. “Shouldn’t we put some ice on that?”

  “Now? Are you kidding?” he said, staring at her.

  “That’s the second injury you’ve suffered because of me,” Marisa mourned, kissing the abraded knuckles.

  “Forget it,” he said. “Let’s do it this way.” He yanked the loosened blouse out of her skirt band and pulled it over her head. In almost the same motion he doffed his sweater and swept her back into his arms.

  “Oh, Marisa, you’re like velvet, all over,” he said huskily, his cheek against her hair. He undid the clasp of her bra with a stout yank and tossed it on the floor.