Payback (11 page)

Surprised by the offer, she tilted her head, but said, “No.”

“Okay.” H
e walked around as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.  He finally settled on the sofa and watched some television.

“Do you want your stew in there or at the table?”

“Is it your tomato stew? Your mom’s recipe?”

“Yep.”

“That sounds good. I’ll have it out here.”

She ladled the stew into a deep bowl and took it to him along with a plate of crackers and French bread.  She pulled over a folded television table and set the bowl on it. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a Guinness.”

Marie descended the stairs into what she considered to be the play area. The lower level consisted of a very long bar, two massive flat screens, tables and chairs, sofas and recliners,
a pool table, foosball, and the nine-person movie theater. In addition to the “play area” there was a full bathroom, a small, empty bedroom, and numerous bookshelves full of books. Turning on the light, she went to the bar and drew the Guinness slowly from the tap to make sure she pulled the right head on the ale. When she took it back to him she heard the reporter on the television promising the locals plenty of wind, lots of snow, and a tumultuous drop in temperature. 

Caden handed her the empty bowl as she handed him the Guinness. “Can you get me another bowl?”

After retrieving the second bowl, Marie finished cleaning up and then slipped out the side door a little after seven with a small bowl of stew, crossing the icy yard to the tack room. The wind was whipping so hard that she had trouble walking, slipping and stumbling as if she were a drunk.  Climbing the stairs, she went to open the door, only to have the wind catch it and slam it back against the wall. After turning the light on, she had trouble getting the door to close against the wind. 

The new jacket was taken off but put right back on.
The room was freezing.  She walked over to the portable heater and turned it on before shuffling over to the sink to get a glass of water.  The cup from the morning was in the sink with a thin layer of ice in the bottom. 
It’s cold enough to freeze water in here?  You’ve got to be kidding!

But the sight of her br
eath in the air sealed the deal; it was literally freezing in her room. She kicked off her new work boots and crawled under the two wool blankets, ate her stew, and then tried to read her book, but her nose was so cold it was uncomfortable to read. She turned out the light and pulled the blankets up over her head to stay warm. 

The idea that it was seven-thirty on a Saturday night and she was in
bed trying to keep warm made her feel as if she was in some Siberian gulag. Marie tried to imagine what she’d be doing if she were in Los Angeles--probably having drinks with her girlfriends at Toshi’s in Venice Beach.  Sighing, she thought to herself,
How far the mighty have fallen.

By eight, Marie was asleep, but sometime during the night she woke up shivering so violently that her teeth were chattering. Something was wrong. It finally occurred to her that she didn’t hear the sound of the little portable heater.  Reaching
out, she tried to turn on the light, but nothing happened. The electricity was out.

Thoughts of American pioneers went through her head
, evoking a new respect for what they went through. They had lived without electricity…but then they had fire.  Still, she wasn’t going to go running back to the house, not after the scene in the grocery store. Right now she had no desire to ask him for anything, even an extra blanket.

But it was so damn cold
. Turning on her laptop, she saw that it was midnight. And when she held up her hands to the screen, she could see they were bright red, but her thumb was turning blue.  Again, she tried to go to sleep, but between the chattering of her teeth and the stabbing pain in her limbs, she was wide awake.  After an hour, it seemed to be better, the cold not hurting as much, and, in fact, she stopped shivering and fell asleep.

There was the sound of the wind and something else…maybe footsteps coming up the stairs.  But she didn’t care, she
just wanted to sleep.

The door flew open
, and standing in the doorway with a flashlight was the silhouette of a man in a down jacket and knit cap. Marie put her head back down to finish her dream of a warm fire and hands around a mug of hot cocoa.

“Jesus, Marie, don’t you have enough sense to come out of the cold? It’s freezing in here.”

But she didn’t answer.

He walked over and shone the light on the bed.  The covers were pulled up over the top of her head. 
Yanking the blankets down, he gasped.  “Damn!”  Her breathing was slow and almost imperceptible, but what frightened him was the blue around her lips. Putting the flashlight on the nightstand, he reached in and grabbed her, bundling her up into his arms. After balancing her over his shoulder he grabbed the flashlight and took off.  Trying to maneuver down the frozen steps was a nightmare.  Slipping, he had to grab onto the banister to keep from falling, then Marie would start to fall off his shoulder.  It took a long time to get down the steps, but he managed.  The wind, as he came around the corner of the barn, was intense. Because of the wind and ice, Caden had a difficult time crossing the yard to the house. By the time he reached the back door, he was exhausted.  Once inside, he didn’t bother putting her down or taking off his boots; he made a beeline to his master bedroom, the way being illuminated by the numerous oil lamps he had lit earlier. 

Laying Marie on the bed, he unrolled her from the blankets and took her socks off.  Her toes were purple. After wrestling her limp body
from her jacket, he pulled the V-neck sweater over her head and then yanked the jeans from her hips. When she was down to her underwear, he picked her up and gently placed her under the down blanket and then put wool blankets on top. Yanking his clothes off, he climbed under the blankets and spooned her to share his body heat.

It was her smell, not the strawberry of the shampoo in her hair, but the sweet and earthy smell of he
r neck, that made his head swirl-- made him remember.  The way her body curved into his, the smooth, cold skin, the sound of her breathing, it took him back to the days when he could lose himself in her--when coming home to her was the best thing in his life. When being inside her was like crack cocaine. When he couldn’t get enough of being with her. 

Back then
, the laughter, the arguments, the heated debates about the arts, science, and life in general all made his life so enriched. He wasn’t sure he could be any happier.  Still, Marie hadn’t been as happy as him, but it had nothing to do with their relationship.  The tabloids had run photos of them together, compared her to the models and actresses that he usually dated, insinuated that he was slumming it, that Marie could never compare to the beauties that escorted him down the red carpets in the past. Sure, they admitted, she was pretty, even photogenic, but she was more like the girl next-door than the exotic women of his past.

He had tried to tell her it didn’t matter, that he found her little round belly, precious face, freckled nose, gray eyes, robust laugh, brilliant mind, and  sense of humor so intoxicating that the other women were plain in comparison.  To some extent she believed him, but not when they went out and she met the women he had dated. He could tell that she
felt inferior to their impeccable makeup, designer bodies, and couture clothing.

Holding her close to him,
feeling her warming up, was reassuring.  He flashed the light on her toes and saw that they were a fleshy pink.  The blue around her lips had faded.  Getting up, he threw several logs on the fire in his bedroom fireplace and then crawled back to join her.  He missed this, having her in his life, having her in his bed. He wished he could find someone like her, someone that could make him feel as alive as she once did. But in six years, there hadn’t been anyone that really piqued his interest. There had been plenty of sex, some from women he liked, some from women he bought, but none of them had the wit or intelligence that Marie had. It took a long time, but he finally fell asleep, still spooning her to keep warm.

Around six in the morning, Marie woke
, and immediately knew Caden was holding her.  The way he always spooned by crossing his arm all the way over, his habit of sticking his nose in the crook of her neck, the feel and length of his body against her flesh, the smell of his musk, it had to be Caden.  Marie rolled in his arms so that she was facing him. So she had ended up in his bed last night?  Why didn’t she remember it? 

He looked so beautiful with his dark hair falling down across his forehead, his large eyes ringe
d with eyelashes that fell halfway down his cheeks, his beautiful, wide mouth pursed together, and his chin covered with a two-day scruff.  Caden looked content, comfortable.  How had this miracle happened? Why had he forgiven her?

She kissed him on the lips and snuggled closer.  He smiled
, and then his eyes flew open and he pushed her away, scrambling out of bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

As Marie sat up, she realized that her bra was still on and so were her panties. That was odd. In the past, she either wore pajamas to bed or was completely naked.  “I was just giving you a kiss.”

“Don’t
do that again!  Don’t touch me!” he growled as if he had been contaminated by a disfiguring virus.

“I don’t understand.
You were holding me.”

“You had hypothermia.
I had to warm you. There was no way I could get you to the hospital last night.”

Her face fell. “So you…you haven’t forgiven me?”

“Hell no!  Pay attention—I will
never
forgive you.”

Marie tried hard not to cry, but the boomerang of feelings from being ecstatic with happiness to feeling like crap again was too much.

It was strange watching her cry.  The tears were running like streams down her cheeks, but she was silent.  She rubbed them away and then stood up, walked into the bathroom and closed the door without a peep.

He knew that the electricity was back on because the light by the bed and the television downstairs were on.  Looking out the window, there was no doubt that this was going to be a snow day.  After checking the animals, there would be nothing to do since the roads wouldn’t be open
. And in order to start putting out feed and straw, he’d need another hand.

When she came downstairs
, Marie went straight to the kitchen to put on the coffee. She began the eggs and bacon. As they cooked, she looked at the whiteboard. It seemed as if she would take one step forward and two steps back on the tally. The car total was now at $9,203, more than they expected because she had cracked an axle. The bill was being paid weekly by Caden, but he only paid the shop what she had earned.  In the meantime, they were charging her sixty dollars a month to store the car inside the garage out of the elements while she paid off the bill through Caden. In addition to the car, she had racked up the clothing, tampons, and gas bills.  Caden had two pumps on the ranch, one with diesel for the farm machinery and one with gas for the cars and some of the lightweight machines. He had a Ford truck and a Ford Explorer. The Escalade was long gone, and he was now the proud owner of American-made, middle-class vehicles that could be appreciated and respected by the locals. After having very little contact with anyone for several weeks, Marie had borrowed the Explorer to run into town to see some of her friends.  Caden charged her for the gas and use of the Explorer, twenty bucks for the day. After five weeks of work, she was down to just over nine thousand dollars.

But Marie was determined not to let Christmas be like Thanksgiving. She had been abandoned at the ranch while Caden went to a friend’s house for a turkey dinner. Apparently
, Jason had also been at the same dinner because he asked Marie why she hadn’t come, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew—Caden had not invited her.

“It’s okay, Jason, I got to watch all the television I wanted in a warm house.  I didn’t think that something so simple could make me so happy.”

But now it was Christmastime, and Ona had invited her to spend the afternoon and have dinner with her family.  She didn’t want to go empty-handed, but she had no money to buy any gifts for anyone, so she pawned the only jewelry she owned that was worth anything, a silver filigree locket with a ruby in the center, with an inscription on the back,
I Love You More, Caden.

She loved the necklace
, even though one of her friends had remarked that it was kind of cheap, considering he was so rich.  But that wasn’t the point of the gift. They had been in Santa Barbara and she had seen the oval filigree that laced over the ruby in the middle and fell in love with the intricate work. Behind her back, he had not only managed to buy it for her but have it engraved and waiting for her when they got home on Monday.

It meant something to her because he had given it to her
. The man who loved her had smiled as she opened it, had kissed her neck when he clasped the chain, but now it was a painful reminder of what she’d never have again, Caden’s love.  So she pawned it for sixty-five dollars.

With the sixty-five dollars she purchased twenty dollars
’ worth of groceries for baking and forty-two dollars of lovely yarn, along with some crochet needles that were on sale. When Marie told the store owner that she had pawned her jewelry to buy the yarn to make presents, the owner threw in four skeins that had been sitting in a bin for sale for a couple of weeks. Grateful for the yarn, she drove home feeling upbeat for the first time in weeks.  She unpacked the groceries while Jason and Caden finished up for the night feeding the cattle and horses.