Native Affairs

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “And what should I give you? You planned it.”

  “I assumed that it was part of my job.”

  “And was flirting with Ben Rowell part of your job?”

  Ann sighed and turned away. “Heath, you are deranged. I wound up with him in the bedroom at the same time by accident. He was looking for his coat.”

  “He was looking for more than that.”

  “Heath, I am not going to spar with you, especially on this ludicrous subject. It’s been a long evening and I am very tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “Not so fast,” he snapped, covering the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed her arm and she was unable to take another step.

  “Heath, you’re hurting me,” she said, twisting uselessly in his grasp.

  “Do you think I’m blind? I saw you dancing with Ben earlier tonight. I saw the way he was holding you, talking to you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself very much.”

  “He was telling me funny stories about the grand opening of the Big Palm marina, about everything that went wrong that day. I was just trying to be a good hostess, Heath. If you had half a brain in your head you’d realize that the man wouldn’t endanger his job by courting the boss’s wife in front of the rest of the company. What the devil is wrong with you?”

  “And who asked if you were hungry? Who ran to get you a plate?” Heath demanded, ignoring the logic of her last statement.

  “Ben was just being polite. If it were up to you I would have starved! Has it occurred to you that just maybe he felt sorry for me? My husband ignored me all evening to conduct momentous business conversations that should have taken place in the office. At least, I thought you were ignoring me. Obviously you were keeping track of me by radar, watching my tiniest move while pretending to be absorbed in weighty discussion.” She finally yanked her arm free and stood rubbing her wrist, glaring at him.

  “I was admiring your act,” he said.

  “What act?”

  “Your dutiful wife and hostess act. I must say that it was very entertaining.”

  “I wasn’t acting, Heath. I intend to fulfill my part of our bargain completely.”

  “No matter how much it hurts, huh?”

  Ann didn’t answer.

  “You think I don’t know what’s been going through your head?” Heath said. “You’ve been feeling sorry for yourself. Poor Annie, ignored by an indifferent husband, all your charms wasted on a brute who couldn’t possibly appreciate them. Then tonight you saw a chance for real admiration from that boy and you couldn’t resist it.”

  “I’m not that shallow, Heath,” Ann said quietly.

  “Of course not. You’re the Ice Princess—-ideal wife, arm adornment and party planner. I knew this evening would be perfect, you learned to entertain at your momma’s knee. Too bad she didn’t teach you about fidelity.”

  “I’m not going to listen to any more of this,” Ann said, starting for the bedroom again.

  He blocked her path. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you? Making me imagine what you might be up to with a guy like that? It’s the only way you have of getting back at me—isn’t it?—letting me picture somebody else kissing you, touching you, holding you?” His eyes were wild, his face flushed, his fists clenched.

  His attack was so baseless and unfair, and Ann was so exhausted, that she had finally had enough. Her patience ran out and she said icily, “You know, you really shouldn’t drink, Heath, not with your family history. A couple of more belts and you could permanently turn into your father.”

  His hand came up like lightning and Ann faced him down regally, her gaze direct and unflinching.

  “Go ahead and hit me, Heath. You’ve been wanting to hit me for eleven years. Maybe if you finally get it out of your system you’ll feel better.”

  His hand faltered, then fell. He looked at her a long moment, then dashed headlong from the room. Ann heard the door to the garage slam and then the sound of his car starting. She listened as it roared into the street and then faded into the distance.

  In the kitchen, Daniela had left the radio on the counter playing softly. In the new silence, the strains of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” drifted into the living room.

  Ann sat wearily on the sofa, too numb to cry.

  * * * *

  Heath drove in circles for half an hour before deciding on his destination—an all-night bar by the railroad tracks at the edge of Hispaniola. The plastic Christmas decorations on the door and the colored lights strung along the bar did nothing to lift his spirits as he slid onto a stool and ordered a drink he didn’t really want. When it came, he pushed it back and forth without touching it, watching the trail of moisture it left on the scarred wood of the bar.

  Why had he behaved that way tonight? He couldn’t seem to stop punishing Ann, no matter how stoic she was about enduring his moods. He was proud of her, but couldn’t admit it; he admired her, but couldn’t say it. In fact, the more impeccably she filled her role as his wife the more enraged he felt. His need to make her pay was bottomless. She had done exactly what she’d promised to do before their marriage, and his inability to find fault with her made him want to kick in the walls. Why? Because she had to be a fraud, she had to be fickle and flighty and faithless, or else he had wasted more than a decade of his life hating a person who didn’t remotely deserve it.

  Somebody put “Jingle Bells” on the jukebox and Heath tried to block out the sound; holiday music only depressed him further. He had felt like an actor, playing his role at the party tonight, all the while conscious that he didn’t deserve Ann or the dedication she had shown in making the event a success. He knew he was rude and unfeeling and charmless toward her. He also knew that he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms all night long and tell her everything he was feeling, everything he had kept bottled up inside for years like champagne canted under pressure. But that would be folly, wouldn’t it? If she knew that his pretense of emotional indifference was becoming impossible to sustain, that he almost didn’t care anymore what she had done in the past or why, then she would win.

  But was winning this contest—his unbending attitude versus her ability to endure it—really that important to him anymore? If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that keeping her with him was fast becoming the major—possibly the only—consideration. Every time he thought of the way she turned to him so trustingly in bed, gave of herself so completely in spite of his churlish behavior, his will to continue the vendetta ebbed a little more.

  Heath hadn’t noticed that the stool next to his was now occupied until his neighbor said to him, “Coming from a big date?”

  Heath looked down at the tuxedo he’d forgotten he was wearing. “I guess you could say that.”

  “How’d it go?”

  Heath ran his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass. “Not well,” he replied.

  “That’s a shame. Seems to me like everyone tries too hard at this time of the year, like we’re all forcing ourselves to be happy even if we’re not.”

  Heath glanced at the philosopher to his left and narrowed his eyes. The old man looked familiar.

  “Don’t I know you?” Heath asked.

  The man nodded. “You should. I picked you up about five times in my squad car as I recall. Heath Bodine, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is,” Heath said, extending his hand. “Refresh my memory. You are...?”

  “Ken Gates. Sergeant, Lime Island police force. Retired.” He shook Heath’s hand.

  Heath grinned. “Sure, I remember. We used to call you Gatecrasher. How the hell are you?”

  “Just great. I’m down here from Chicago to visit my son for the holidays.”

  “So why are you here at this bar?”

  “I had to get away from the grandchildren.”

  Heath laughed. “At two in the morning?”

  “The baby woke up for a feeding and so we all did. That kid has lungs she inherited from my late wife, may God rest her
soul.” He downed the rest of his drink. “So, what are you doing in this dive, kid? I heard you made a mint on some boat gizmo you invented a few years ago and bought the old Curtis spread. Isn’t this place a little lowlife for you these days?”

  “I feel right at home,” Heath said in a tired voice.

  “Not drinking?” Gates asked, nodding toward Heath’s full glass of Scotch.

  “I’ve already had enough tonight.”

  “Afraid of winding up like your old man?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “I had him in the drunk tank more than once.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “He was harmless, kid.”

  “He was worthless.”

  “Is that why you’re sitting here with a bunch of strangers two days before Christmas?”

  “I had a fight with my wife.”

  “Ahh. What did she do?”

  “Nothing. It was my fault.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess I can see why you’re here.”

  Gates signaled for another drink and Heath said, “I got it.” When the bartender arrived, Heath said, “Keep them coming for my man here. On my tab.”

  The bartender nodded and walked away to get Gates another whiskey.

  “Thanks, kid. I guess you can afford it. It’s funny, I never would have pegged you for a future success story.”

  “You weren’t the only one.”

  “Did you marry a local girl?”

  “She used to be local. Henry Talbot’s girl. Do you remember her?”

  “I hope to say I do. Pretty as a picture—blond hair, big blue eyes. Didn’t you have a thing going with her a few years ago?”

  “More than a few. How did you know that?”

  “Old Henry was down at the station one night at the end of one summer, must have been about ten years ago, trying to get us to arrest you for statutory rape with that little girl.”

  Heath froze with his hand around the glass on the bar before him. “What?” he said softly.

  Gates nodded vigorously. “I remember it like it was yesterday. We didn’t see much of the local gentry in the squad room if you know what I mean, so the incident kind of stuck in my mind. Talbot wanted to know the procedure necessary for filing charges. The chief tried to talk him out of it—we all guessed it was probably just a case of two kids in love. The Talbot girl was only a few months away from the legal age anyway, right? But King Henry was having none of it. He left determined to file the charges as soon as he squeezed the necessary details out of his kid. Then, like magic, we heard nothing more about it. A few weeks later, the Talbot housekeeper told me that the girl had gone up north to school, and later I read in the paper that you had joined the navy. I figured then that the girl had agreed to leave town if her daddy let you off the hook.”

  Heath was staring at him, his fingers white around the object he held, his breath caught in his throat.

  “You all right, kid?” Gates asked, concerned. “You look kinda... funny.”

  Heath stood slowly, sliding off his stool and pulling a bill out of his wallet. He set it down on the bar.

  “This should cover everything,” he said, then clapped Gates on the shoulder and reached once more for his hand.

  “Thank you,” Heath said soberly. “And Merry Christmas. And Happy New Year.”

  Gates shook his hand and stared after him for a moment. Then he snatched up the bill and tucked it into his pocket, signaling the bartender.

  * * * *

  Ann was asleep on the sofa in the living room when Heath returned. He took off his shoes and crept closer to the couch, noting with dismay that even in sleep her brow was creased and her expression not peaceful. Feeling guilty and remorseful to the limit of his imagination, Heath sat next to her and took her by the shoulders, gently lifting her into his arms. He remembered with a pang how he had found her in similar circumstances the day of their wedding. The deliberate cruelty of taking off and leaving her without a word on that occasion was unforgivable in retrospect, and he wondered now if their relationship was even salvageable.

  He carried her into the bedroom and set her on the bed, leaning forward until she slipped bonelessly onto the embroidered spread. He took off her shoes and adjusted the pillow under her head, drawing an afghan over her legs as she stirred slightly. Then he crept quietly out of the room and closed the door.

  He stood in the hallway for a long time, then went into the living room and sat staring out the windows at the lawn until the sky lightened and the sun rose.

  * * * *

  When Joe Jensen came into his office around noon on Christmas Eve Heath was sitting at his desk.

  Joe stopped short. “What are you doing here?” he asked Heath in surprise.

  “I called your house and Joan said you were coming in at lunchtime to pick up the mail.”

  “And you’ve just been sitting here waiting?”

  “Yes.”

  Joe pulled out a chair and sat facing Heath. “What’s up? As if I didn’t know.”

  “I’ve already talked to Ben Rowell and apologized for last night,” Heath said.

  Joe nodded. “And your wife?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet.”

  “What happened after Joan and I went home?”

  “We had a fight and I left. When I came back, Ann was sleeping, and then I left again this morning before she was up.”

  “Are you avoiding her?”

  Heath sighed. “I wish I could avoid myself,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

  Joe sat back with his arms folded, surveying Heath skeptically. “Kid, I haven’t wanted to ask—”

  Heath held up his hand. “And I haven’t wanted to talk about it. Until now.”

  Joe shrugged. “Then go ahead.”

  Heath filled Joe in on the parts of the story he didn’t know—the circumstances of the breakup with Ann when they were kids, how he had misjudged the situation and how he’d only married her for revenge.

  Joe was staring at him in amazement when he finished.

  “Do you mean to tell me that all these years you thought she dumped you until that old cop set you straight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even when she told you otherwise?”

  Heath nodded wearily.

  “I guess you had a whole lot of faith in her, didn’t you?” Joe said dryly.

  Heath said nothing.

  “So what are you going to do now, start interviewing retired municipal staff and going through old police reports to make sure that Gates gave you the straight story?”

  “No,” Heath said quietly. “I believe him.”

  “But you didn’t believe Ann when she told you the same thing,” Joe observed mercilessly.

  Heath just shook his head, his expression defeated.

  “What are you going to do?” Joe asked, finally taking pity on his friend.

  “I don’t know. How can I ask her to forgive me for a mistake this enormous? The situation is impossible. You don’t know how I’ve been treating her....”

  “From your performance last night I can guess.”

  “I married her to punish her,” Heath said, rising abruptly. “And I did punish her, every way I could. Now it turns out she didn’t deserve it at all. I feel like hiding out somewhere. Joe, I’m too ashamed to face her.”

  “Would you have kept treating her badly if you hadn’t run into Gates?” Joe asked.

  Heath shook his head slowly. “I doubt it. The whole act was becoming real hard to sustain.”

  “Act?”

  “I don’t hate her, Joe,” Heath said softly, a catch in his voice. “I never did even when I was trying to convince myself otherwise.”

  Joe nodded silently, moved by Heath’s struggle to contain his emotions.

  Heath put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he said.

  Joe waited
, unsure what to say. In his experience, Heath had always known what to do.

  Heath opened his eyes. “Any advice?” he said.

  “Do you want her to stay with you?” Joe asked.

  “Of course, but I can’t keep holding her brother’s fate over her head to coerce her.”

  “You don’t think she’ll stay with you otherwise?”

  Heath was silent.

  “Does she love you?”

  “She did, but...”

  Joe raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve done everything I could to destroy her affection for me. If it’s survived, it will be a miracle.”

  “I’d bet she’s a lot tougher than she looks,” Joe said.

  Heath nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve learned that during the past month.”

  “Then tell her what you’re feeling. Don’t give up now when you’re so close to getting what you want.”

  “I don’t know how close I am. She would never have married me in the first place if Tim weren’t on his way to jail.”

  “That may have been the excuse she gave herself, but I’m sure she wanted to be with you, Heath. I remember when you were kids. I’ve never seen two people more in love.”

  “A lot of time has passed since then.”

  “Have your feelings changed?”

  Heath didn’t answer for a long time, then he shook his head once, unable to meet Joe’s eyes.

  “Chances are she feels the same. Go home and talk to her, Heath. I’m betting she’ll listen.”

  Heath got up and walked toward the door, pausing as he passed Joe to put his hand on the older man’s shoulder.

  “Thanks, Joe,” he said huskily.

  Joe smiled to himself as the door closed behind Heath.

  * * * *

  Heath drove back home in a fog of apprehension; he knew that he had to confront Ann about this now, since there was no possibility of going on as before, but he dreaded her reaction.

  She had every right to throw him out of the house or leave him on the spot. The only mystery was why she hadn’t done so already. But the idea that she might reject him now, after all that they had been through, was truly too awful to consider.

  Ann was in the den wrapping a Christmas present when he arrived.