A Marriage of Convenience

by Doreen Owens Malek

  "I'll come by for your first lesson at one," he said softly. "Goodnight."

  "Good night," she whispered.

  And he was gone.

  Sharon wandered back to her bedroom, thinking about the evening she had just spent. What a contradiction Tay was; she could certainly see why he was considered a troublemaker, but he had been so nice to her later on. It was as if two natures were at war within him, and it was a tossup as to which one would win.

  Sharon heard the back door open, and the sound of her father's voice drifted down the hall. She changed quickly into her bathrobe, washed her face and stepped into the hall.

  Rae looked up as she entered the kitchen.

  "There's the birthday girl," she said, smiling. "Did you have a good time?''

  "Wonderful." No lie.

  “How was the dinner?''

  “Great.'' The hamburger was pretty good.

  "Oh, that's nice. Where is Tay?"

  "He went out to the bunkhouse," Sharon replied. "Did you get the horse?"

  "Sure did," her father said from the depths of the refrigerator. "She's a beauty, too. Anybody want a sandwich?"

  "Dan, how can you be hungry again?" Rae asked, shaking her head at Sharon.

  "That measly take out dinner we had wouldn't fill a cavity," Dan muttered, depositing a plate of cold cuts on the counter. He turned to kiss Sharon and added, "Happy birthday, honey. Your present is on the table.''

  There was a large box sitting next to her place mat. Sharon unwrapped it and discovered an outfit she had admired with Rae in a downtown Glendora store. She thanked them both and joined them at the table as they had their snack.

  "Daddy, Tay is going to give me riding lessons, if that's all right with you," she said, nibbling a ham slice as her father piled meat on a kaiser roll. "We're starting tomorrow afternoon."

  "Wonderful," said her father, who approved of his daughter's interest in anything horsey.

  "He said he'd have to work out the time with you."

  "No problem," Dan said. "I'll talk to him in the morning." He glanced at Rae and said to Sharon, "Did you call your mother today?''

  "Yes, I did."

  "Good."

  "So how does it feel to be eighteen?" Rae asked, eager to change the subject.

  "I feel the mantle of maturity settling over my shoulders," Sharon said solemnly.

  "I see," Rae said, nodding. "Well, before the mantle settles too far, how about some ice cream?"

  "I'll never be too mature for some things," Sharon replied, and they all agreed that was true.

  Chapter 3

  Tay gasped aloud and sat up, coming wide awake immediately. He was bathed in sweat, his hair plastered to his head. That was a bad one. Ever since he'd regained his freedom, his bad dreams consisted of thinking himself once more trapped in a bamboo cage. The nightmares had been tapering off, but they had a tendency to return when he was nervous or tense.

  Both of which he was tonight .

  He slid off the cot and padded to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and neck. He emerged seconds later, rubbing his torso with a towel.

  The atmosphere in the cabin was stifling. Dan had suggested a window air conditioner, but Tay was used to the heat and tolerated it very well. After Saigon and Bangkok, California seemed temperate to him.

  He returned to his bed and collapsed on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was doubtful he'd get back to sleep easily.

  He found himself thinking about Sharon. He was touched that she'd understood his outburst the way she had. She was intelligent and kind and courageous. She'd looked scared and rattled at the restaurant, but she had rebounded quickly, and they wound up having a pretty good time.

  That surprised him. He was planning a late evening with a girl from town when Rae called, and he hadn't wanted to go with Sharon. He tried to talk Rae out of it but she had insisted. He'd canceled the date to substitute for his mother, intending to remind her of the favor when the time was right.

  Now he didn't feel that Rae owed him anything.

  He'd also found himself volunteering to give Sharon riding lessons.

  He didn't quite understand it.

  Certainly Sharon's freshness, her innocence, were attractive to a man like him, who'd already seen and experienced too much that he wanted to forget. And he remembered her gentleness the day of her father's wedding to his mother. He didn't know too many other women who would have helped him without feeling the need to follow it up with a lecture. He knew quite a few who wouldn't have helped him at all. In that uncomfortable situation she had acted with a graciousness that was remarkably consistent with her behavior in the restaurant that evening.

  He smiled now as he thought of the expression on her face when she saw the Italian menu. Poor kid. She was still young enough to regard lack of experience as a terrible flaw.

  He stood abruptly, listening to the crickets and cicadas racketing in the bushes. Insects batted against the window screens and swirled around the yellow outside light. The air was heavy and breathless, seeming to press on him with a tangible weight. Nights like this reminded him of his time in the Asian jungle, when silent danger lurked behind every tree. And after he was captured, the nights were endless, punctuated only by the screaming of nocturnal birds in the underbrush and the muttering of the guards as they gambled to pass their shift.

  They tortured him only during the day, when the officers could supervise. He remained sane during those sessions by thinking about home and his normal, happy childhood.

  Maybe that's why Sharon appealed to him so strongly. She reminded him of his former life, when his father was alive, before everything bad had happened to him. He was her equal then, in youth and optimism, and perhaps he thought he could reclaim that period in her company.

  He wandered back to the cot and dropped onto it, praying for sleep. He had to work in the morning, and Dan Philips was a tough, albeit fair, taskmaster.

  He would give Sharon her first lesson after lunch.

  * * * *

  Sharon was waiting for Tay at the riding stable when he arrived the next day. He stopped short when he saw her, taking in her outfit.

  "You can't wear those sneakers," he said in greeting.

  Sharon looked down at her feet. “Why not?''

  "You need hard soled shoes for the stirrups. And change those pants, too, they're too thin. Jeans would be better."

  Sharon trudged back to the house to change, thinking that he was certainly taking all of this very seriously. When she returned he was sitting on the corral fence, smoking.

  "Ready?" he said, tossing his cigarette onto the ground.

  "I hope so," she replied.

  They went into the stable, and Tay showed her to a back stall where an obviously elderly horse was munching hay contentedly.

  "This is Lightning," Tay said to her, stroking the animal's nose.

  "Obviously not a generic name," Sharon commented dryly.

  "I thought we'd better start off slow. I don't think you're ready for a derby winner just yet.''

  "Come on, Tay, this looks like Rocinante. He's one step away from the glue factory."

  "Fortunately, we'll never know what he thinks of us," Tay replied. "Today we're going to practice mounting."

  "You mean we're not going to ride yet?" she asked, disappointed.

  "First you have to get up there, okay?" Tay said patiently. "I'll show you how to saddle him later, but I thought for now you'd like to get the feel of it."

  "Thank you so much."

  "I'm going to give you a leg up this time, but you'll have to learn how to do this alone eventually."

  "Okay."

  "Now when I bend and make a cup of my hands, step into it with one foot, lift up and throw your far leg over the horse's back."

  "Gotcha."

  He bent and Sharon obeyed his instruction. She was trying so hard that she overshot her mark, however; she slipped off the saddle on the other side and landed loudly on the ground.

>   Lightning continued to chew his hay, oblivious to her humiliation.

  Tay came around and crouched next to her in the dirt.

  "Lesson number one," he said. "Try to remain on the horse."

  "Very funny," Sharon said, standing and dusting off the seat of her pants with her hands.

  "Ready to try again?'' he asked archly.

  "You bet," she said grimly.

  After a couple more attempts she was able to find and maintain her seat. Tay explained how to grip the horse's flanks with her knees and control his head with the reins. They ended the session with Tay leading Lightning around the corral, Sharon seated on his back. She was bouncing too high and pulling back too much on the bit, but she was riding, and she felt triumphant.

  Lightning maintained an attitude of polite disinterest throughout.

  "So, what do you think?" Tay asked as he led Lightning back to his stall and gave him a drink.

  "I guess I did all right," Sharon replied. "I've been picturing myself galloping through long grass like that actress in the perfume commercial, but I guess that will have to wait."

  "We can gallop if you like," he said. "I'll take you out on Moonrise, she's a good galloper."

  "We?"

  "Sure. You just sit behind me and hang on tight. I'll do all the work. Come on."

  Tay got Moonrise, who was obviously ready to roll, dancing in a circle as he led her out of the stall. Tay mounted easily and reached down for Sharon, hoisting her onto the horse behind him as if she were weightless.

  "Put your arms around my waist," he said.

  Sharon obeyed. His midsection was lean and firm, and he smelled wonderful, of soap and sun and the musky base note of his skin.

  ''Don't let go," he said, turning his head.

  Sharon had no intention of letting go. Tay trotted out of the corral area and onto the road, heading for the open field behind the stable.

  "Ready?" he called.

  "Ready," she said into his ear.

  Tay bent his head and said something to the horse, then kicked her sides sharply.

  Moonrise took off like an arrow released from a bow. Obviously delighted to be given her head, she ran full out, her flashing feet throwing up tufts of grass.

  Sharon was jolted forward with the initial thrust and clung to Tay in terror for a minute or so before she began to believe they would survive this excursion. It was another minute before she could relax enough to enjoy herself, but when she did, it was heavenly.

  Tay was an expert horseman. He leaned forward in the saddle, controlling the horse just enough to keep her on track, and Sharon tightened her grip, watching trees and bushes fly by like scenery glimpsed from a speeding train. Tay's hair blew back into her face, surprisingly fine and silky against her skin, and after a while she let her head fall forward, pressing her cheek into the hollow between his shoulder blades. She felt at one with the man and the animal and wished, just for those fleeting moments, that she could stay where she was forever.

  But of course she couldn't, and the ride ended too soon. Tay slowed the horse to a canter and headed back to the barn. When they got there, he vaulted to the ground and reached up to help Sharon dismount. He gripped her waist, his fingers slipping upward as she moved down; for an instant his hands brushed over her breasts. Before she could react he released her and stepped back, avoiding her gaze as her feet touched the dirt floor.

  "That was wonderful," Sharon said breathlessly.

  "Glad you liked it. You can take off now, I have to rub Moonrise down before I put her up."

  "Can't I watch? I have to learn that, too."

  "Another time," he said distractedly. He seemed bothered by something, as if he wanted to be alone.

  "When's my next lesson?"

  "I'll let you know," he said distantly, rummaging in a tack box for rags.

  Sharon left, glancing over her shoulder once to see him rubbing the horse's neck with long, even strokes.

  He didn't look at her.

  She went back to the house.

  * * * *

  Sharon thought a lot about the wild ride with Tay after that; she had an idea that it told her more about his character than any amount of talking ever could. He continued with the lessons but never rode double with her again. It was as if he had revealed too much of himself that day and didn't wish to again.

  Sharon, for her part, was fascinated with him. She adjusted to his changeable nature pretty well, enjoying the good days and enduring the bad ones. And he seemed to take comfort in her nonjudgmental presence, spending more time with her than with anyone else, though he still preferred his own company most of all.

  About three weeks after she began her lessons, at the end of July, Sharon had trouble sleeping one night and went down to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. She was turning away from the refrigerator when she heard Tay's truck drive past the house and turn down the lane toward his cabin. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning.

  Curious, she put the milk container on the counter and went to the back door, peering through the sheer curtain on its upper half. She saw the brake lights go out on the truck and seconds later the driver's door opened. Tay put one booted foot on the ground, and in the next instant he tumbled out of the cab and sprawled headlong into the dirt.

  Sharon watched, alarmed, and when he didn't move again, she bolted through the door, holding her ankle length nightgown up her calves and scampering across the wet grass in her bedroom slippers. She left the lawn and scrambled down the dusty lane, dropping to her knees next to the prone man.

  There was a half moon, and by its light she could see a dark sticky fluid matting Tay's hair and running down the side of his face. She touched his shoulder and he stirred, groaning and turning toward her. She saw his face and gasped aloud.

  He had a deep gash on his forehead and another one just at the hairline, along with a black eye and a swollen lip. He had either lost a fight or won a Pyrrhic victory, paying too high a price for the crown.

  "Tay?" she called, shaking him. "Are you okay? Can you sit up?"

  He blinked up at her. "Sharon?"

  "That's right, it's me. I want to get you inside and take care of these cuts. Can you help me?"

  "S'awright, I'm fine," he mumbled, struggling to a sitting position and putting his head in his hands.

  "Yeah, you look fine," Sharon muttered, putting her arms around him and hauling upward. She landed on her fanny for her efforts; it was like trying to dislodge an obelisk.

  "Tay, you have to help me," she panted. How could someone who looked so slim be so difficult to move?

  He nodded groggily, and on the next try he cooperated, lurching to his feet and leaning against her with his arm across her shoulders.

  "It's not far to the bunkhouse," she said breathlessly. "Can you make it?"

  He nodded again, and step by step they made clumsy progress to the cabin. Tay tripped on the stairs and for a moment Sharon thought she would drop him, but he recovered and they stumbled inside to the cot. She let him go and he slumped gracelessly across it like a felled ox.

  Sharon leaned against the wall to catch her breath. The night was warm, and she could feel a trickle of perspiration running down her sides from the exertion.

  After a few moments she wiped her forehead with the back of her arm and went to the bathroom, where she filled Tay's shaving basin with water. He didn't have any disinfectant and she didn't want to go back to the main house, so she settled for soap and a clean washcloth. When she got back to the cot, he was lying on his back with his eyes closed. She was standing uncertainly, wondering whether she should disturb him, when his lashes lifted and he looked at her.

  "How are you doing?" she asked, pulling a chair next to the bed.

  "I'll live," he murmured, closing his eyes again.

  "Tay, how did this happen?" she asked, dipping the cloth into the water.

  "Fight," he said.

  "No kidding." She dabbed at the cut on his f
orehead. "What were you fighting about?"

  He winced.“Woman,'' he replied.

  Of course, Sharon thought, what else? “How did it happen?"

  “We were talking...in a bar. Some guy...started...up with me."

  "Some guy?"

  "Husband."

  Sharon stopped her ministrations and stared down at him. “You were picking up a married woman in a bar and her husband did this to you?"

  "She... picking me up," he corrected.

  "Oh, excuse me," Sharon said. “That made a world of difference to her husband, I'm sure."

  “Didn't know... she was married.''

  “Thank heaven for small favors," Sharon muttered under her breath. She resumed cleaning his cuts with rather more vigor than necessary, and finally he sat up, pushing her hand away.

  "That's enough," he said. Obviously some of his customary starch was returning.

  "You should put iodine on those cuts. How did you get them?"

  "Broken bottle."

  Sharon sucked in her breath. "Tay, they could get infected!"

  "I never get infections."

  "You could have scars."

  He examined her, his gaze lopsided. "Sharon, do you think this is the first time this has happened to me?"

  She stood, shoving the basin onto the bed. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you realize you could have been killed driving all the way out here from town in this condition?"

  "I got here, didn't I?"

  Sharon answered this question by bursting into tears.

  He stared up at her, his damaged face incredulous. '' What is it? Why are you crying?''

  "Because you're hurt, and I care about you," she sobbed. "I only wish you cared about yourself."

  Tay didn't know what to say. He sat watching her cry in silence until he couldn't stand it anymore.

  "All right, come on, stop that," he said, standing unsteadily and putting his arm around her.

  She sniffled loudly.

  "I'm okay, you can see that," he said. "There's nothing to cry about."

  "You'll do it again," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

  "Don't worry about me," he soothed her, pulling her closer, his hands moving over her back.