A Hero's Reward (6 page)

Margaret blushed a very, very deep red.

“I noticed that when I woke up
you appeared more than platonically interested in me. I'm sorry, I
never know what to say when trying to talk about such things.”

“Oh that. I apologize. I was
trying to check your core body temperature and had my hand on your
stomach. I was drawing it back after I found that you had warmed up
when you moved. You curled up into a ball and the movement drew your
breasts across my arm and hand. I reacted to that.

I do find you attractive and certainly
wouldn't kick you out of my bed if you wanted to be there. I'd never
ask for sex as repayment for any help I provide you though. It would
have to be because you were willing, not as any form of repayment. I
prefer my partners willing and not coerced. Besides, it's been long
enough for me that I'm not sure I'd remember what to do.”

Despite his attempt at levity at the
end of his statement, Margaret was blushing an even deeper red now,
if that were possible. Midway though his statement she had turned her
gaze to the floor again. After a moment's silence she managed to
mumble a reply:

“Thank you, I'm sorry for having
doubted you.”

The next statement was soft enough that
Greg was sure she hadn't meant for him to hear it:

“Why you'd want me in your bed,
I'll never know.”

Greg answered the statement, if softly,
despite his surety that he hadn't been meant to hear hers:

“Because you're the first woman
in years that I have found attractive and enjoyed the company of.
Because instead of insisting that I help you, you keep trying to
convince me not to. Because I want to wipe the lines of sorrow from
your face and replace them with anything that means you're happy.”

Margaret obviously heard him, for a
third time that day she burst into tears. This time they seemed to
alternate between despair and joy, although there was far more
despair in the mix.

“Oh Greg, you don't even know me.
Maybe we can talk about it when your back feels better. We'll have
had a chance to get to know each other some by then. I won't bother
you about it though. If you still feel that way later on, you'll need
to bring it up with me but I think you'll change your mind once you
get to know me.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

Greg shuffled out into the kitchen and
started a pot of fresh coffee. He found the whirring of the blades as
the coffee maker ground the beans to be a good anchor back to how his
life normally went. Currently he was adrift, strong painkillers and
strong emotions had his mind whirling about. He knew Margaret was
right and that they needed to get to know one another better before
anything else. He knew from experience that you could easily fall for
someone that you thought you knew and have them turn out to be not
the person you thought they were at all. He had been bitten once, now
he was suffering through the twice shy portion of the old adage. From
what he could see, Margaret had had an even worse experience, and
might be even more wary about any form of relationship.

When the coffee was done brewing he
took two cups of steaming hot java out to the living room and handed
one to Margaret. The surprised look on her face when she took a sip
told him that she wasn't familiar with fresh-brewed gourmet coffees.
This batch was Jamaican Blue Mountain, one of his favorites. The
full-bodied coffee had a low acidity and a hint of chocolate flavor
to it as well as being almost completely lacking in bitterness.
Margaret had obviously noticed and he would swear that for a moment
he had seen a hint of a smile on her mouth when she lowered the cup
after her first drink.

“That is simply incredible. This
is just coffee?”

“Yes, like I said, good coffee is
one of my few vices. I have a few different types I like to keep
around but this one is my overall favorite. I thought you might like
it, I'm glad to see I was right.”

“I normally just drink Folgers or
a generic if the budget is tight that month. This is so much better
it's almost like they aren't the same drink.”

“I drink the cheap stuff a lot
when I'm out. When I'm relaxing at home though, I prefer something a
bit more interesting. I also keep some single serving packets of
instant around for when I go camping”

They sat back and sipped their coffees
in companionable silence for a while.

“Do you listen to music?”
asked Greg.

“Yes, I do.”

“What kind do you like to listen
to?”

“Anything but Country-Western, I
grew up having to listen to that and then my ex-husband wouldn't
listen to anything but that. I've got a severe dislike for it now.”

“I don't do much Country-Western,
there are maybe ten Country songs I like. I don't listen to rap
either, but I do listen to pretty much anything else. More rock and
classical than the rest though.”

“Well, I would've mentioned I
don't listen to rap but you did ask about
music
.”

Greg chuckled, “Did you just make
a joke?”

“I guess maybe I did.”

Margaret wasn't smiling but she wasn't
frowning either, it seemed to Greg that her face had lost some of its
stress as well. He got up and booted up his computer:

“How about some classical for
right now? I tend to move to the music with rock and that might not
be the best idea with my back how it is.”

“Sure, do you have Ode to Joy? I
always liked that piece.”

“Yup, I have Beethoven's ninth
with Ode to Joy as part of it in one of my classical playlists, as a
matter of fact it's the first song on that playlist.”

Once his computer finished booting up,
Greg started his classical playlist. As the music swelled out into
the living room, he relaxed into the couch sipping his coffee. He
kept half an eye on Margaret and could see that she was caught up in
the music. He closed his eyes and let the music carry him away.

He enjoyed this piece very much
himself, he had spent a lot of time checking out different versions
until he found the one he wanted. This one was a thirteen minute
version of Beethoven's ninth with Ode to Joy included. He'd always
used this piece to relax and recharge so he thought it was a good
choice for the current situation. It had an incredible tenor singing
in the original German, and the entry of the Ode to Joy section in
the middle of it was one his all-time favorite musical segues.

As the piece was ending he opened his
eyes again. When he glanced at Margaret he saw that tears were
silently streaming down her face:

“Are you alright?” he asked
her.

“Did you know that the original
title of Ode to Joy was actually Ode to Freedom? The composer had to
change the title for fear of the consequences if he published it with
the original title. Letters he wrote to a friend late in his life
show that he regretted doing so and felt that he had compromised the
song by changing the title.”

“No, I had no idea. I've just
always appreciated the music.”

“If you do want a relationship of
any sort with me, you'll have to know more about me. This is probably
as good a time as any. This way it won't hurt as much if you change
your mind.”

Greg got up and turned the music down
to a very low background noise that wouldn't intrude on their
conversation. He also noted that she hadn't specified who would be
hurt if he changed his mind and took that as a good sign.

“Go ahead.”

“Well, Ode to Joy is kind of a
theme song for me. Freedom is what I always wanted since I was young
but fear of consequences kept me from having it. My parents were
incredibly strict, rabid, bible-thumpers. I hope you aren't religious
at all so I don't offend you but they took their version of
Christianity to the degree of a cult. I wasn't even allowed to wear
pants once I became a teenager, it had to be dresses, and ones that
came down to at least mid-calf. Since they bought my clothes, when my
jeans disappeared, the dresses and skirts were all I had left to
wear. There were blouses and button down shirts to go with the
skirts, too. They thought that t-shirts were the devil's temptation
to sin since they tended to emphasize a woman's upper body more than
a proper blouse. I rarely had money of my own; they wouldn't even let
me babysit to earn money. They thought that if they controlled the
purse strings then they'd be able to control me better.

When I became a teenager I, of course,
wanted to start dating. They wouldn't let me date until I was
seventeen. After my dad caught me necking in the car with a date that
was dropping me off one night, they restricted me to only dating
people that they approved of. I ended up marrying one of them and
what a mistake that was.

I thought that getting married and
getting out of the house would have to make things better. I thought
they couldn't get any worse. I was wrong. Freddy got a job and we
bought a house. That one, as a matter of fact.” she said
gesturing to the ruins across the street.

“He was tight with money. I had
to account for all the household funds I spent. I had to give him the
receipts and explain any discrepancies. He was... very domineering.
He was of the same church as my parents and they believed that the
passage from the bible that said that the wife must obey the husband
was one of the most important parts of the book. There was little joy
and lots of yearning for freedom in my marriage. When I got pregnant
with Jack I thought that surely Freddy would lighten up. Instead he
cracked down. In addition to holding my freedom in his hands, he was
taking Jack's freedom when Jack was only two years old. There was a
list of things that Jack was allowed and not allowed to do. I had to
be with Jack every minute when he wasn't sleeping. I was suffocating
and I was sure that Jack would be also if I stayed with Freddy.

One day, I finally stood up to Freddy.
I told him that things had to change, that I didn't mind obeying him
but that he was far too strict with Jack, that he had to lighten up
on both of us or we'd be miserable our whole lives. He seemed to go
along with it but a couple of months later, after Jack and I had been
enjoying life for a bit, Freddy came home drunk one day. He laid into
me about having been an insubordinate wife the past couple of months
and eventually he took a swing at me. He hit me in the face and left
me with a black eye. I grabbed Jack and ran. I went straight to the
police. I pressed charges and filed for divorce. The day my parents
found out that I was divorcing Freddy, they disowned me.

I got the house, lots of good that will
do me now, custody of Jack, and a small alimony and child support
payment. Fortunately the house was paid off, but until Jack started
school I couldn't even work a regular job. I didn't know anyone
because Freddy and I never went out anywhere and we didn't have any
friends in the area. All of our friends, or I should say his friends
really, were living back near my parents. I tried to go out and take
Jack to the park, talk with other moms there, but I couldn't connect
with them at all. They all wanted to talk about the latest electronic
toy that they had bought, or brag about their children, or talk about
their 'online social lives'.

I wasn't interested in any of that. I
didn't brag about Jack. I didn't even know what they were talking
about when they went on about their online social lives. I didn't
have an internet connection until two years ago. Anyhow, by that time
I had given up and pretty much become a recluse. When Jack started
school I got a part-time job at the library; the pay isn't much but
we got by on less before I was working and we know how to live
frugally.

So, in a lot of ways, I'm kind of
damaged goods. I've always been very shy and it became worse after
Freddy and I divorced. I'm very touchy about my freedom being
infringed upon and very, very wary about losing it again.”

I just stared at her for a moment. Why
she thought that anything in her story made her damaged goods was
beyond me. She had had to go through more than anyone should and she
seemed to still have things pretty well together.

“Margaret, why do you think
you're damaged goods? What you just told me says that you are a very
strong-willed woman, not that you're damaged. It tells me that you
were abused from a young age, that doesn't make you damaged either.
It tells me that the abuse continued after you married. I'm amazed
you stayed with him for as long as you did. It sounds like he didn't
love you, he wanted to possess you. I wouldn't want to infringe on
your freedoms. Unless you consider being in a relationship as
infringing on your freedom but it didn't sound like it earlier. When
looking for a significant other, I have always looked for a partner,
and not for someone I can dominate.”

“Do you mean that? You don't
think I'm broken somehow, you don't think I'm a failure because I'm
divorced and my parents disowned me?”

“I think that you are the most
sane adult you mentioned in your story. I really wouldn't want to
have to deal with people that acted the way you described. I'd lose
my temper with them pretty quickly myself. How you stood it for
years, I don't know.”

“I didn't know any better. I've
given it lots of thought since I divorced.”

“See, you aren't damaged goods,
you just didn't know any better. Even without knowing any better you
still got yourself and your son out of that situation.”

Margaret's face saddened:

“Freddy has Jack though, when I
called him he told me I wasn't getting him back.”

“You have legal custody, yes?”

“Yes, I'm supposed to.”

“Then we can get the local
sheriff to come out with us and he'll have to hand him over.”

“Except the sheriff goes to the
same church. I somehow think he won't cooperate.”

“Well, where does he live?”