Bound to be Dirty

by Savanna Fox

  “Just a little.”

  She frowned. The book club members teased her about being a know-it-all, and she’d overheard a grumble or two at the clinic. “Am I that obnoxious?”

  He reached for her hand. “No. You’re smart, focused, and a quick thinker. You analyze and reach a conclusion before other people, and when you reach it, you’re pretty convinced it’s right.”

  “Not always.” She hadn’t effectively analyzed the problems with her marriage or her clinic, or come anywhere near reaching conclusions.

  “No. But when you do, you can be a little, uh . . .”

  “Rigid and heavy-handed?” She repeated the words slowly, enunciating each syllable.

  “You’re strong-minded. That’s much better than being wimpy. I’ve always admired your strength.”

  Hmm. That sounded a bit better. Before she could thank him, he went on. “Except when you’re up against your parents.”

  She pulled her hand away. “I married you. That wasn’t wimpy.”

  “Shit, I didn’t mean to get into this.”

  “Into what? And why not?”

  “Because it pushes your buttons and you get your back up and stop listening.”

  “I do not!” She glared at him. “I’m listening. Go on.”

  He raised his brows. “Okay, then hear this. You did two things that defied your parents: marry me and go into family medicine. On everything else, you back down. With other people, you state your mind and stick to your guns, but not with your parents. With them, you’re a wimp.”

  She would not be defensive. Raising her wineglass, she sipped as she reflected on what he’d said. Yes, she sometimes chose avoidance. With her parents, and with Dax too, as she’d been thinking mere minutes ago.

  “Lily?”

  “Yes, with my parents I avoid confrontation unless the issue is really important. As you said, they steamroll over opposition. It’s exhausting, stressful, and unproductive to argue with a steamroller.” Besides, on the rare occasions she did win their approval, it felt so good.

  A thought struck her. Growing up with her parents, had avoidance become such a habit that she used it with her husband too, even though he was a pretty open-minded guy? Had she subconsciously been afraid that if she challenged Dax or disagreed with him, she’d lose his love? How ironic if her failure to be open and honest with him had put that love in jeopardy. “Sorry.” She realized Dax had said something and she’d missed it while she was musing. “What did you say?”

  “Just that I see Anthony and Regina do the same thing. But Lily, it’s costing you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your parents disrespect you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, yeah? ‘You need a haircut; that shade of gray doesn’t suit you.’ ‘Your brother’s doing a clinical trial; his wife’s on the partnership track; they’ve produced a beautiful baby.’”

  Yes, those barbs stung. Her self-esteem had also suffered when she’d thought her husband might be cheating on her and she hadn’t had the guts to ask. “You have a point,” she admitted. “I can be a wimp, if that’s what you want to call it, and I suffer for it. As for Mom and Dad, I don’t think they intend to be that way. It’s how they were raised.”

  “Oh come on, people don’t have to be like their parents.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted. Dax himself was the perfect example of that. “I don’t want to be like my parents,” she added quietly. If—when—she had kids, she’d be a loving, supportive, demonstrative parent. She’d try to be neither overbearing nor wimpy. She gazed at Dax, her heart sinking. Right now, the likelihood of them having children together seemed very low. “I can’t understand why you’ve stayed with me if I have all these personality quirks that bother you.”

  “Oh, hey Lily.” He took her hand again. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. You have way more great qualities than, uh, quirks that bug me. And no one’s perfect. Me, least of all.”

  She softened, letting him intertwine their fingers. “Thanks. And, for the record, when I first met you, I thought you were pretty perfect.”

  “Me too. Young love.” He grinned. “Or lust. Glosses over the less-than-perfect stuff.”

  “Which is inevitably revealed with time. And then, I guess people have to do what we’re doing now. Talk about it, deal with it. Why did it take us ten years of marriage to do this?”

  “Dunno. Slow learners?”

  “Maybe, but here’s a thought. In ten years of marriage, if you add up the time we’ve actually spent together, I bet it totals less than a year or two.”

  “Huh.” He cocked his head. “Well, if we stay together, we need to spend more time together.”

  Hope pulsed in her heart. “I agree.”

  His face brightened and they shared a smile. Then he said, “I’m sorry if I was too hard on you, about your parents. It just pisses me off, the way they treat you.” He gave a wry grin. “Though it’s sure better than the way they treat me.”

  “I’m sorry they’ve never accepted you like they did Regina.” How that must sting, when his own parents had been too self-centered to care about him, and his grandparents had kicked him out.

  “I wouldn’t trade places with Regina. She’s under more pressure than me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They gave up on me long ago.” He released her hand and tore a cluster of grapes from the stem. “But she’s under a critical magnifying glass, trying to measure up.”

  “Do you think she feels that way?”

  “Yeah. She told me at Christmas. As a lawyer, Regina has to use strategies and tactics in her work, but in her home life she’d rather be upfront rather than deceptive.”

  “Deceptive?”

  “You all lie to your parents to avoid making waves. It sucks. You know how your parents have that not so subtle way of letting people know they’re disappointed in you? Well, you have more reason to be disappointed in them.”

  “I never thought of it that way.” Over the years, he’d bitched about her parents but the things he’d said today were insightful, and the first to really sink in. Food for thought . . .

  Dax rose to tend the fire, topped up their glasses, then stretched out on his side, head propped up on his hand. “Tell me about your grandmother. Your family never talks about her.”

  “Gran’s the family black sheep.”

  “Hey, I like her.”

  “You would have. Grandpa had family money and was a prominent cardiologist—and yes, it was expected that Dad would be a cardiologist too, and that’s what he did. They had a fancy house in Shaughnessy and she ran it and the garden, with staff, of course. They entertained a lot. Grandpa was on the board of directors of his golf club and Gran volunteered at the art gallery.”

  “They sound a little like my mother’s parents.”

  “They probably knew each other. Grandpa was definitely the head of the household and Gran was, well, repressed. When he died, I was eight and she was only sixty. She . . . well, Mom described it as going wild. She sold the house and bought a townhouse downtown, she traveled, she even went on a singles cruise and came home with a younger man ‘friend.’” Lily put air quotes around the last word. “She took courses in anthropology, astronomy, and Indian cooking.”

  He grinned. “Sounds like quite the woman.”

  “That’s for sure. She painted, mostly nudes, and she was good enough to have an exhibit. She stayed at an artists’ commune in Mexico and an ashram in India. She rented an apartment in Paris, on the Left Bank. She had a male ‘friend’ there too. My parents were embarrassed by her adventures.”

  “And you?”

  “I was more like, ‘You go, Gran!’ I loved seeing her so happy and free. We had some great times together. She was so easy to talk to.”

  “She died when you were sixteen? I’m sorry you lost her so early.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at her long, lean husband in his “Born to Fly” tee. “She’d h
ave liked you, Dax. She’d have wanted to go flying with you. And tried to persuade you to teach her how to fly.”

  “And I might’ve. So she left all her money to you because you were the one who cheered her on?”

  “And because I was a girl. Her lawyer gave me a letter from her. She said she wanted me to be financially independent—of my parents, and of any man including my husband.”

  He gave a thoughtful nod. “She wanted you to live the life that she couldn’t until her husband died.”

  “Well, to have options.”

  Dax shot her a mischievous grin. “Like to live in an ashram or visit Paris and take a young lover?”

  “She wanted me to be happy.”

  “And are you, Lily?”

  That question made her pause, press her lips together, and reflect. “Sometimes.”

  “Such as?”

  “Today, with you. Having fun together and also really talking.” It wasn’t always comfortable, but it was hopeful. “And of course when I help a patient. Or examine a healthy new baby and see how much the parents love their little one. When I hold Sophia.” Though that was a mixed blessing, reinforcing her own desire to have kids. She shook her head. “No one’s life is all happiness. Everyone has worries, responsibilities. Unfulfilled dreams.”

  “Your gran wanted to reduce those for you. You haven’t touched the money in years, have you?”

  “Not since I paid for my medical education.” She’d been so grateful for her grandmother’s money. It had meant she didn’t have to choose between the undesirable options of student loans or parental support. “I set up that trust, with the interest going to children’s charities, but I haven’t touched the principal.”

  “Why don’t you put some of it into the clinic? Hire another couple of doctors, a manager. Lighten your load.”

  “A manager? Dax, I’m responsible. I can’t pass that off on someone else. And I can’t subsidize the Well Family Clinic. It needs to be self-sufficient.”

  He paused then said quietly, “Why? Because you have to always be in control, and you’re trying to impress your parents?”

  Her mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you said that! You know how important the clinic is to me.”

  Dax studied her for a long moment. “I do know that. And I told myself I’d leave this subject alone because it’s another hot button. But Lily, it’s stressing you out, taking over your life. Why are you letting it do that?”

  Because hiring a manager would be a confession that she couldn’t handle things herself. She was responsible, not a control freak. Besides, she could handle this; she’d figure things out. The crucial thing was that patient care wasn’t suffering. “It’s just a tough period right now.”

  “What’s going to change?”

  “I’ll work it out.”

  He sighed. “What’s the part you most enjoy? Dealing with patients, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Hire a manager to do the other stuff.”

  The man who’d cut his family out of his life had given her advice on dealing with her parents, and now the guy who’d admitted to avoiding admin tasks was trying to tell her how to run a medical clinic. She swallowed a knot of anger. “I don’t tell you how to run your business.”

  “Right.” His eyes were gray steel. “Parallel courses, all the way.”

  She took a breath. If they carried on like this, those parallel courses would split wide apart and never touch again. Deliberately, she softened her tone. “Remember how I suggested that we start back at the beginning? Perhaps tackling our current issues is . . .”

  “Beyond us at this point? Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Fighting will only drive us apart.” If they were going to recapture love and fix their marriage, she sensed it had to happen in slow, gentle steps.

  Dax sighed. “Yeah.” He rose and tended the fire, then went through the stack of CDs.

  When the music started, she cocked her head. “Who is that?”

  “Tony Bennett. I thought your gran might like him.”

  The gesture eased tension from her body. “I bet she danced to him more than once.”

  When Dax returned to the rug, Lily lifted her glass toward him. “To Gran.”

  He picked up his own glass and clicked it against hers. “To Gran.”

  They both had a drink then he said, “D’you think you’re doing what she wanted you to with the money?”

  Hoping he wasn’t going to hassle her again, she said cautiously, “I hope so. One day maybe I’ll see a reason to use it.” Perhaps she’d spend some on her children, though she didn’t want to spoil them.

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to do something frivolous every now and then.”

  “Frivolous?” Now there was a word no one ever applied to her. “Frivolous?” It felt light and fluffy on her tongue, kind of fizzy and fun like the champagne they were drinking.

  “You’re grinning.” His eyes were warm and affectionate.

  “I am? I wouldn’t know how to be frivolous.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Those book club friends could help. After all, they got you to a rodeo.”

  “You’re right, I bet they could.” She studied his face, the strong angles and planes, the reflection of firelight dancing in his eyes. “How about you, Dax? Could you help?”

  “Uh . . . Guess I’m not known for being all that frivolous myself.”

  “No, not now. But think back. Remember borrowing a canoe at midnight and following the path of the full moon? Stealing a bunch of Mrs. B’s flowers to give me, knowing she’d blame the deer? Whittling me a loon out of a piece of driftwood?” She paused. “Okay, maybe more romantic than frivolous. But fun, lighthearted things.”

  “Guess I haven’t felt all that lighthearted in a while.”

  The words settled between them and neither spoke for a moment. Then he went on. “The past couple of years we’ve both spent most of our time working. Not, you know . . .”

  “Stopping to smell the roses?”

  “Or to steal them from someone’s garden.”

  “I admit, I miss your bad-boy side.”

  “What? I tried so hard to grow up and be responsible. That’s the kind of man you deserved.”

  “And I respected you for that, and you grew into a strong, brave, amazing man. But I do miss that daredevil bad-boy edge.” She admitted, “I guess that’s something I liked about the, uh, sex games.”

  “I’m taking notes here,” he joked. “Bad boys tie women up, slap their butts, melt ice cubes on their bodies. What else?”

  Happy that the mood had lightened, she said, “I’ll leave that to your imagination, Dax. I think you’re up for the challenge.”

  When he rose to deal with the fire again, she said, “Finished eating? I should put this stuff back in the fridge.”

  “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

  Creaky after sitting for so long, Lily stretched and picked up the tray of leftovers. In the kitchen, she nudged an empty shopping bag aside to clear space for the tray. Under the bag, she found several envelopes addressed to her and Dax. “You picked up the mail?” she called.

  “Yeah, I grabbed it as I was leaving.”

  She shuffled through. A property tax bill, a charity looking for donations, a card-shaped envelope addressed to her and Dax from a cousin in England who she barely knew. A slightly larger envelope addressed to Dax, from CanTimber, the logging company he worked for before taking the job at the mining camp.

  When he came into the kitchen with the empty champagne bottle and glasses, she said, “You got mail from CanTimber.”

  “Oh?” He took it, opened it, and an envelope fell out.

  She glanced over, to see that it was addressed to Dax Xavier c/o CanTimber, with “Please Forward” written on it. In the top left corner was written “Jillian Sams” and an address in Prince Rupert.

  “Who’s Jillian Sams?”

  Twenty

  Jillian Sams. The name rang a faint bell for Dax.
“I’m not sure.”

  He opened the envelope and pulled out a family photo card showing a man, woman, three children ranging from perhaps ten to sixteen, and an Old English Sheepdog. They were all beaming, even the dog.

  Recognizing them, the picture made him smile too. So did the message written inside.

  Dear Mr. Xavier,

  It’s because of you that my family will have a Merry Christmas. We are eternally grateful for your bravery. If there’s ever anything that any of us can do for you, you only need ask.

  I’m all healed now, as good as new. I look at life with a fresh perspective, and treasure every moment. It’s amazing how things can change in the space of a heartbeat. I will never again take my life and my family for granted. And we’ll never do something so stupid again.

  I will also do my best to follow your example, and to help others in need whenever I can. Though, I’m afraid, never with the same amount of courage you showed when you rescued me.

  I wish you and your loved ones all the best for the holiday season and the new year.

  Forever in your debt,

  Jillian Sams

  Oh yeah, sometimes life was good.

  “Who’s it from?” Lily asked.

  “A woman I helped this year.”

  “May I?” She held out her hand for the card.

  “It’s not a big deal.” He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to pass it over.

  “Then show it to me.” She took it from him and read the message. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

  “It’s really not a big deal,” Dax repeated, putting leftovers into the fridge.

  “What happened?” She touched his arm, stopping him.

  He turned to her. “They were on a wilderness hiking-camping trip. Inexperienced, hadn’t checked the long-range forecast. It was sunny when they set out, and they assumed it would last. Anyhow, on the second day, a storm came up, quickly. Lightning and thunder. The dog spooked and ran away and the youngest boy ran after it. The parents told the other kids to stay in the tent, and went to look for the boy and dog. They didn’t stop to grab jackets, water, or cell phones. The mom slipped in the mud and fell off the edge of a cliff into a small canyon between two sets of hills. She tumbled down quite a drop, broke an arm and a leg, knocked herself out. The dad couldn’t get down to her, the storm was getting worse, he still had a lost kid and dog.”