The M Word (4 page)

Brenda’s breath caught. How would it feel to
be loved like that?

“My mother, she is a widow,” he continued.
“My father was ill for many years, and she took care of him. Some
day I hope to care for her.”

He spoke very matter-of-factly, soliciting
neither sympathy nor praise. She liked that.

Brenda was silent for a few moments, watching
him work. “Do you have family near?” he asked casually.

“Yes. My parents and one of my sisters live
here in Dallas. My other sister’s in Mesquite and my brother lives
in Fort Worth.”

“All Native Texans?” he asked.

She was puzzled by his question. “Yes,
why?”

“I see it on the license plates, as if Texas
is its own country.”

She smiled wryly. “Some people think it still
is.”

He nodded. “I’ve noticed that.”

A few minutes later, he said, “It’s good to
have family near. Are you close?”

“Yes, but everyone is very busy. We don’t get
together as often as we should.” Her family had liked Steven, but
he hadn’t wanted to spend much time with them. He said he wanted to
keep her to himself, but now she wondered if he was just trying to
avoid getting caught in his lies. She asked, “Does any of your
family want to come to the United States?”

If he thought her questions were growing too
personal, he didn’t show it. He was silent for a few seconds, then
said, “My mother would like to visit, but she is very busy with our
family store.”

She imagined his widowed mother, hunched
over, dressed in a black dress with a scarf tied on her head,
working in a little grocery store. “What kind of store?”

“Music. My father started it. We sell pianos
and other instruments, music books. Anselm works there, too.”

“But not you?”

He shook his head. “I did when I was younger.
I tuned pianos and helped sell guitars. But now, I am the dreamer.
My mother and brother, they are much more --” he hesitated for a
second, trying to find the right word. “Practical.”

That was interesting to Brenda, because she
was the practical one in her family. “Your English is very good,”
she said. “Did you study it in Poland?”

“Yes, for many years.”

She wanted to ask about his visa, but didn’t
dare. How soon was his time running out?

She suddenly realized that she hadn’t offered
him anything to eat or drink. Her southern mother would be appalled
by her lack of hospitality. She stood and brushed her hands on her
skirt. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, thank you. I’d like a glass of water.
No ice.”

She filled a glass with chilled water from
her refrigerator door.

He picked up the glass, then set it down, on
a piece of paper so it wouldn’t leave a ring on her hardwood
floors. He was a careful man, she thought, but she was surprised he
didn’t drink it. He saw her look, and explained, “I'm waiting for
it to warm up. I don't drink anything cold.”

Why not
, she thought but didn't pry.
She said, “Are you hungry? I don't have much in my fridge, but I
have crackers and cheese ...”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He worked for several minutes in silence.
Without looking at her, he asked, “Do you play the piano?”

“I took lessons when I was younger. That’s
why my parents gave me the piano, but no, I don’t play often. Not
like I should.”

“Music should be a joy, not an
obligation.”

She smiled. She’d bet he was a good salesman
at his family’s store.

“Do you have other hobbies?”

Hobbies? That stumped her. She worked long
hours at the bank, and after that, she usually spent time with
Steven, doing what he wanted -- exercising or watching a movie. She
searched her mind for what she liked to do by herself, for herself.
Occasionally she went somewhere with her girl friends, but not
often. “I like gardening. Plants.” As she said this, she saw that
the potted plant by the front door had shriveled and died. She
hoped he wouldn't notice.

“What do you like to read?”

It had been a long time since she'd read
anything but articles on the internet. “Travel books.
Mysteries.”

“No romances?”

She thought of the sack full of paperback
romances in her bedroom closet. Steven used to tease her about
them.
These are what make women unhappy. They create unrealistic
expectations.

“No, no romances,” she said coolly. Not any
more.

“I like romances,” he said simply. “I like
stories that make me laugh and cry. Do you like opera?”

She was startled by the jump in the
conversation. “I don't know much about it. I listen mostly to
Country Western.”

“Ah, yes. Country Western can be good, simple
music. Heart felt music.” He smiled at her.

His eyes were warm and kind as they looked at
her. He seemed a genuinely nice man, but he was still a man. Could
she trust him? Did she want to?

He worked for a few more minutes, then put
the piano back together, replacing the front piece.

“Are you done?” she asked.

“Yes. I'll check it again in a few days to
see how well it has stabilized.” He held up his hands, forming a
horizontal line. “Right now, the strings are taut, but they'll sag
a little,” he dropped his hands slightly, “and lose a little
pitch.”

“Is there anything else I need to do, like
replacing the felts?”

“No, you have a very good spinet, in good
condition.”

She stood again. “I’ll get my purse. I forgot
to ask you how much you charge.”

“No charge.”

She must have misheard him. “I beg your
pardon?”

“No charge.”

“No, I insist,” she said as she pulled out
her checkbook. “You’ve provided a service and you should be paid.
How does two hundred dollars sound? Too little?”

“No, you don’t understand. I am here in the
United States on a student visa. It is not legal for me to be paid
by anyone other than the University.”

Brenda sensed very clearly that he was not
the kind of man to take money on the side. He was honest.

She was flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell
me before?”

He shrugged. “You needed your piano tuned. I
like tuning pianos, and I had the time.”

She still couldn’t believe his
generosity.

He said, “Consider it a gift. Between
friends?”

Could they become friends?

She took a deep, steadying breath, then
asked, “Would you like to marry me?”

CHAPTER THREE

Marius threw back his head and laughed.
Brenda Williamson wanted to marry him?
How marvelously
convenient
.

She flushed. “I didn't think it was that
funny.”

Marius wiped the corners of his eyes. “No,
you're right,” he said politely. “Forgive me. I forget how blunt
American women are. You surprised me.”

She rushed to explain. “I haven't fallen in
love with you. I'm offering you an arranged marriage: a chance to
get your green card.”

Of course. What else could it be?
He
watched her carefully, to gage her response. “Why?”

“Your student visa is expiring. If you marry
me, you can become a permanent resident.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said clearly. “I
don’t need it. My student visa was extended.”

Brenda felt oddly letdown. “But it will
expire eventually.”

“Yes, and there are other ways to become a
permanent resident. Thank you, very much for your offer, though.
You have a tender heart.”

“You’re turning me down?”

No doubt she’d thought he would jump at her
offer like a starving dog for bone.

He hesitated. He should turn her down, but he
was tempted, none-the-less. He asked, “Why do you want to marry
me?” Did she expect him to pay her? He’d heard of such arrangements
since coming to the United States.

She picked at a loose thread on her skirt to
avoid his scrutiny. She said, “Ever since I read the article about
you, I keep thinking how unfair life is. Because I was lucky and
born here, to my parents, I have freedom, a comfortable life and
endless opportunities. And here you are, on the brink of being
deported.”

“Not really. It was a simple matter of filing
the right paperwork. I am fine.”

She glanced at him briefly, then away. “But
that's not the only reason.”

He waited.

“There's a man. An old boyfriend.”

“Ah.” He knew a woman as lovely as Brenda
would have a man in her life. “He is bothering you?”

She looked embarrassed. “Yes, that's it
exactly. I've told him I don't want to see him again, and he
doesn't believe me. And I ...” She stopped, then blurted out, “And
I'm afraid I'll take him back.”

So she still loved him. Warning bells rang in
his mind, telling him not to get involved with this beautiful woman
and her troubled life. She will only bring you sorrow, he thought,
but already it was too late.

He'd looked up into her beautiful blue eyes
nearly a year ago at the park and known that he would never be the
same. Something about her had pierced his heart like no other woman
before her. He had come to the bank regularly, just to see her,
just to hear her speak.

But he had nothing to offer her, so he had
waited. And now, she wanted to marry him.

God was generous.

She continued, “I thought if I was married to
you, it would prove to him that I was serious.”

He smiled wryly. “Marriage to another man
would tend to do that, yes.”

“Besides that, you're big and strong.”

“You want me to beat him?”

“Would you?”

He clenched his hands into fists, surprised
by the wave of possessiveness he felt. “I've never beaten a man
before, but if necessary, yes, I would do it.”

Her eyes widened at the fierce note in his
voice, and he knew he'd frightened her. Whom did he think he was,
Alfredo confronting the Baron? Times had changed since the 1850's.
These days, one couldn't challenge another man to a duel. Not
without legal repercussions.

“I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “It was a
crazy idea. You probably have a girlfriend, anyway. Forget it.”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to
relax, and smiled to reassure her. He said quietly, “No, I don’t
have a girl friend and I don't want to forget it.”

She hesitated, wary.

Trust me
, he thought, looking into her
beautiful blue eyes
. I would never hurt you
.

“That’s not all,” she said bravely. “I want a
baby.”

For a moment, Marius wondered if he were
dreaming. The prospect of making love with Brenda was intoxicating.
His voice lowered, “You wish to consummate the marriage?”

Her face flushed pink. “Not right away. I’d
like to get to know you better, first, but ultimately, yes.”

He couldn’t believe his good fortune. “Then
you are proposing a real marriage.”

“Yes. I don’t want a fake marriage and risk
going to jail.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“No. I don’t believe in love. Or at least I
have a bad track record. I fall in love with the wrong kind of men.
I’m good with money; I’m good at my job; but I’m crap when it comes
to men.”

She was so open, so vulnerably honest. He was
humbled by the trust she was giving him.

She continued, “I decided that I should
approach marriage more logically, like they did hundreds of years
ago.”

It was a European approach. He knew many
people who married more for convenience than passion. But what had
her bastard ex boyfriend done to make her willing to marry someone
she hardly knew -- almost a stranger?

She said, “And as long as we’re both honest
and treat each other with respect, we can both get what we
want.”

He did want her. In his bed. Forever in his
life.

He would take the risk.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

#

The words hung between them for a moment and
the silence lengthened. She’d been thinking about it, worrying
about it, and researching the ramifications of it for more than a
week. And now Marius had said yes. Brenda felt as if she were
suddenly ten pounds lighter. “Okay then,” she said cheerfully.
“We’ll have to talk and make plans. Are you hungry?”

“A little, yes.”

“Great. I’ll change out of my work clothes
and we can go out to eat,” she said. “We can iron out the
details.”

“I’ll put away my tools.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said hurried down
the hall to her bedroom. She shut and locked the door behind her.
For a moment she stood against the door. Her heart pounded and her
stomach felt as if she'd eaten a dozen hockey pucks.

Was she crazy? Could she do this?

She walked to her closet, unbuttoning her
narrow skirt as she went.

There was no point in wishing she were
fearless; she must make a stand and keep it. Besides, it wasn't
fair to give Marius hope and then snatch it away.

She stepped out of the skirt and hung it on a
hanger. You can do this, she told herself. It really is what you
want -- a way to get rid of Steven once and for all -- and do
something noble in the process.

Have a baby.

She unbuttoned her blouse.

But sleeping with Marius. Could she do
it?

He wasn’t her ideal type physically, but from
experience she knew that sex for her was more a matter of attitude
than physical reality. Once she got used to the idea, she’d be
fine. And besides, there was more to a relationship than sex.

But did she know enough about him?

From their prior interactions, she knew that
he was pleasant, polite, and neat. He’d never bounced a check.
Today she’d learned that he was generous and honest.

But what if he were a mass murderer? Or
worse?

She inwardly laughed at the absurdity of her
thoughts. He couldn't be worse than that. Besides, if she didn't
marry him, Steven would return and wear down her resistance.