A Risky Business

by Sandra K Rhoades

  Merle shivered slightly, wondering how she could have been so hot only minutes earlier. Though the sun had come out again, a fresh breeze blew across the land, chilling her soaked clothing. There wasn't anything she could do about it now as the door to the office trailer opened and Leon and the others came out to unload the truck.

  Fortunately, they unloaded quickly and Merle was soon heading back to her vehicle, the details of the various pieces of equipment she had seen emerge from the truck carefully noted in her journal. Her shirt had dried on her back under the influence of the hot sun, but her jeans were still sodden and uncomfortable, chaffing her inner thighs as she walked. Her nose prickled and she knew she had probably caught a cold as a result of this adventure.

  She was about a quarter of a mile from the Blazer when Merle looked up to see Leon striding towards her. Her heart made a quick descent to her toes. It was typical of him to show up just when she was so wet and miserable. Though she was in no mood for his sarcastic taunting of her predicament, she stopped and waited for him to reach her.

  'Where have you been?' Leon demanded, coming to a halt in front of her.

  For a full minute, Merle stared at him in surprise. Expecting his mockery, his anger caught her completely off guard. Then, she suddenly realised what it was. He knew she had seen the truck. Good Lord, what was he doing now—checking the weather reports before scheduling activities at the site? 'Where do you think?' she taunted.

  His eyes swept over her, his lips pulling into a straight line as he noticed her damp jeans. 'You little fool! You're not safe to let out on your own. Didn't you see the storm coming up? What were you trying to do? Get yourself killed?'

  'Disappointed I didn't?' she asked sweetly.

  At the furious light that flamed in his eyes, Merle shrank away from him. 'No job is worth risking your life for! Why didn't you move when you saw the storm coming?'

  'You'd have liked that, wouldn't you? Then I wouldn't know what was in that truck, but now I do.' She resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him.

  He said something unprintable, then gritted his teeth. 'I don't care about the stupid truck. These prairie storms can be dangerous if you're caught out in the open. You could have been struck by lightning, you…' he stopped in exasperation. His hands went to her upper arms and suddenly he pulled her to him, holding her tightly against his chest. 'You have no idea what you put me through these last few minutes. I knew you were up there and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.'

  'You… you were worried about me?' Merle asked him in astonishment.

  He eased her away from him slightly, though he didn't release her. Looking down into her face he said, 'Of course I was worried about you. You have to be the biggest idiot I have ever known.' The insult was spoken in the tone of an endearment. He lowered his head, his lips seeking hers. The tenderness of his touch, the gentle movement of his mouth over hers evoked an instant response within her. Her arms slid up his shoulders to wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. She eased herself closer to him, slowly merging her form with his until the space between them disappeared.

  His hands moved down her spine, slowly, caressingly, then stopped when they reached her waist. He lifted his head and stared down at her. 'You're wet,' he said flatly. 'I ought to beat you for being so reckless.' He dropped a quick kiss on her parted lips, then, 'Come on, I'll drive you back to the motel. You can give me the keys to the Blazer and I'll have someone bring it in later.' He released her and stooped to pick up the knapsack from where she had dropped it, frowning as he hefted it to his shoulder. 'It's no wonder you've got so skinny if you lug this around with you all the time,' he said disgustedly, his eyes on her loose-fitting jeans.

  'Well, thanks a lot,' she snapped. When he was kissing her, she had forgotten how angry she was with him, but she was remembering now. Who did he think he was, anyway? He had played a rotten trick on her and now he expected her to just fall in his arms. Well, he could think again, she thought, abandoning her resolution to keep her temper around him. 'I can find my own way back to the motel, thank you. I'm not going to listen to your sarcastic comments all the way home.' She snatched the knapsack away from him and turned in the direction of her truck.

  'For Pete's sake, Merle, stop being so childish.' He caught up with her and grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking on. 'I was just commenting on the fact that I had noticed you have lost a lot of weight over the summer. I was expressing concern.'

  'I think you know where you can put your concern,' Merle snapped, pulling her arm free. 'I don't need your kisses, or your concern… or you!'

  His face was pale under his tan, but his eyes were chips of emerald as he looked down at her. A hard knot of pain blocked her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Jerking away from him, she stalked over to her truck. She was never going to let him know he could make her cry.

  The chips had been stale, tasting more of rancid oil and salt than potato, none the less she had eaten them. Now, Merle crumpled the empty bag and hurled it across the room in the direction of the wastepaper basket. The missile ricocheted off the dresser and landed on the floor next to a candy bar wrapper and several discarded tissues. After draining the last of the warm, flat Coke from the can, she sent it on a route similar to that of the potato chip bag, only this time her aim was better and the can landed in the waste container with a loud clatter.

  She stretched slightly, then settled back against the pillows propped against the headboard of the bed, trying to concentrate on the television. The coyote was assembling an elaborate catapult and since she knew he still wouldn't catch the roadrunner, the cartoon didn't succeed in distracting her from the protests of her stomach.

  Finally giving up, Merle got out of bed and switched the set off just as the coyote was hurtling towards a bluff. She supposed she couldn't be that ill if she were hungry, but the thought didn't give her much comfort. In the past two days, she had only left her room to visit the vending machines located at the end of the hallway. Junk food and soda weren't exactly the recommended diet for a cold sufferer but she had felt too ill to dress and drive over to the truckstop for a meal.

  In the bathroom, Merle stared in the mirror over the sink, making a face as she inspected her image. Her complexion was colourless, and even her eyes looked faded. Her nose was pink and sore from constant blowing. She thought you were supposed to look ethereal and fragile when you were ill: she just looked sick.

  For a few seconds longer, Merle studied her reflection critically. At least she hadn't started to come out in spots from all the garbage she had been eating the last couple of days, but it was time she forced herself to go out and have a decent meal. Maybe if she showered and dressed, she would feel better. She really couldn't afford to lie around the motel unit feeling sorry for herself. Work at the well would be going on whether she was there to witness it or not and she would have to go out for a look tomorrow, cold or no cold.

  Actually, she did feel better once she had bathed and dressed. As she wasn't going out to the site, she could afford to don something feminine, so she chose to wear the second dress in her wardrobe, a pale blue sleeveless sundress. It had a low neckline and full skirt, and with the application of a light coating of make-up she decided she looked almost human again. Perhaps she would even feel it once she had a hot meal inside her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The cafe was crowded when she arrived, but there was an empty booth near the entrance and Merle slid into it. She had eaten here so frequently in the past few weeks she didn't bother consulting the menu before giving her order to the waitress. She asked for the house speciality of home-made beef vegetable soup, deciding she would order a sandwich later if she still felt hungry after the soup.

  As she waited for the girl to return with her soup and the coffee she had ordered, Merle wondered if it hadn't been a mistake to come out. She had felt well enough when she had left the motel, but now…

  Leaning her head back
against the seat, she closed her eyes. The air conditioning in the cafe raised goose bumps along her arms and she clamped her teeth together to stop them from chattering. If she had had the energy, she would have left, as the thought of food was no longer appealing. Now she was here though, she supposed she should force herself to eat something.

  She sensed someone come to stand by her table, and Merle opened her eyes expecting to see the waitress bringing her order. Instead, Leon was towering over her, a frown puckering his forehead. 'Are you all right, Merle?'

  For several seconds she just stared at him in mute surprise. She had been hoping to avoid him. Although, she admitted, he had been genuinely concerned about her having been caught in the storm, she didn't think that would stop him from taunting her about having caught a cold as a result. Irrationally though, she felt a quiver of pleasure that he had stopped to talk to her, and she couldn't suppress the smile that hovered on her lips as he slid into the seat opposite her.

  'You don't look very well. Are you ill?' Leon asked, when Merle remained silent.

  'Not really, I just have a cold.' As though to emphasise her point, she made a hasty grab for a tissue, barely managing to cover her mouth before a sneeze ripped through her sinuses.

  'Bless you.' He was studying her face and Merle felt heat creep into her pale cheeks. She knew only too well that she looked as bad as she felt. Despite her efforts to improve her appearance before coming out, nothing could disguise the rawness around her nose or the lacklustre expression in her eyes.

  Her own unhealthy condition was a glaring contrast to his obvious fitness. He was dressed in work clothes, but even the drab olive green didn't detract from the healthy glow of his bronzed skin. The shirt was opened at the neck and, as her eyes rested on the triangle of chest left exposed, she found herself mentally removing the garment. With uncanny clarity, she could picture him as she had seen him at the pool, the firmly muscled torso, the mat of hair that ended in a vee just above his navel.

  Aware that the sudden weakness that overcame her had absolutely nothing to do with her cold, Merle quickly looked back at his face. As she met his eyes, she knew he was aware of what she had been thinking. Irritated, Merle reverted to the topic of her cold, snapping waspishly, 'Well, aren't you going to say you told me so?'

  Leon grinned. He even has healthy teeth, Merle thought petulantly. 'I don't have to, you just said it for me.'

  The waitress arrived then, greeting Leon with hearty familiarity. Leon responded in kind, saying, 'Hi, Sally. You're looking especially pretty today.' He slid Merle a look that made her want to hit him, then turned his attention back to the waitress. 'I'll just have coffee.'

  'Sure thing, honey.' The woman scurried away to fill the order. Merle looked at Leon, her expression annoyed. She had been eating here regularly for over a month, yet each time she came in the waitress treated her as though she were a total stranger. At first, she had thought it was because of her sex, but after a time she had noticed that Sally treated most of her customers, male or female, with the same impersonal, slightly surly, disdain she did Merle. Merle had concluded that that was just the waitress's personality.

  'Honey' has certainly managed to thaw her, thought Merle, her irritation escalating when Sally returned with his coffee only moments later and neglected to bring Merle's own order for coffee and soup. When Merle called her attention to the oversight, she had the distinct impression the girl had forgotten Merle was even sitting there and further more, was annoyed that she had pointed out her lapse in front of Leon.

  Finally the girl brought her order and Merle stared down at the bowl of steaming soup, wondering why she had ever wanted it in the first place. She knew her cold wasn't solely responsible for her lack of appetite. The way the waitress had fawned over Leon brought into startling clarity the effect he had on women, herself included. He drew them like flowers drew bees. And even if she wasn't scouting his well, with the number of bees he no doubt had buzzing around him, a common drone like herself didn't have much of a chance. Not that she wanted one, of course, she was forced to remind herself.

  'Is there something wrong with the soup?' Leon interrupted her thoughts.

  Merle looked up at him, shaking her head. 'No, I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was.' She pushed the bowl away.

  Leon reached across the table and moved it back in front of her. 'Please, Merle,' he coaxed and Merle felt her breath catch at the tender expression in his eyes, 'your cold will hang on that much longer if you don't eat properly.'

  Merle looked down at the soup, wondering what he would say if he knew she had been existing on potato chips and candy bars for the past two days. 'Merle,' his voice took on a sterner note, 'it will be cold if you don't stop procrastinating. Now, eat.'

  'I don't see why you should care whether I eat or not,' Merle sulked.

  'Of course I care,' Leon assured her, pushing a spoon in her hand.' Spudding that well isn't nearly as much fun when I know you're not up on your hill watching me.'

  'It's all a big game to you, isn't it?' Merle grumbled, but nevertheless took the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. Why was she was letting him order her around like this? She still didn't want the soup. The cold had robbed her of her sense of taste and it could have been made from dishwater for all she knew. After a few spoonfuls, she looked up at Leon wondering if she had eaten enough to satisfy him. His frown told her she hadn't, so with a surprising lack of defiance, she returned her attention to the bowl, not looking up again until it was empty.

  'That wasn't so bad, now was it?' he asked as she pushed the empty bowl aside. 'You feel better now, don't you?'

  'You sound just like my mother. She used to like to pretend she was Florence Nightingale, too,' Merle said sourly, though she admitted to herself that she did feel better now that she had something in her stomach.

  'And you didn't like it?'

  She shrugged slightly. 'You'd have to know my mother to understand.' When he just looked at her questioningly, she found herself saying, 'Whenever I was sick as a kid, she fussed all over me, but as soon as I got better, she forgot all about me. My mother is very inconsistent. She's always either trying to run my life, or she forgets she even has a daughter. I used to think if I did things the way she wanted me to, we would get along better. It didn't make any difference, though, so finally I decided to just go my own way.'

  'And your way wouldn't happen to be just the opposite to the way she wants, would it?' Leon asked, probing.

  'Oh, don't misunderstand,' Merle retracted hastily. How had she let her tongue run away with her like that? 'I'll admit, she's not happy about my career. She thinks I should settle down, but I'm an oil scout because that's what I like doing. It has nothing to do with her. Besides, my childhood wasn't that bad. Mom did the best she could. She had a lot of her own problems to contend with and they sometimes made it hard for her to help me with mine. That's all.' How did they get on to this topic? She never talked to anyone about her mother.

  'What do you mean she had her own problems?'

  'Oh.' Merle looked away from him. It would be nice if the ceiling would fall in or something so they could change the subject. 'She got married a lot. It didn't usually work out too well, so she was always trying to salvage the situation.'

  She was starting to feel extremely embarrassed. Leon could see too easily beneath the words to the emotions they sheltered. She liked to keep her friendships on surface levels—and Leon wasn't even a friend. Or was he? Maybe in some weird way he was. This whole situation was so damn confusing! Suddenly, Merle gathered up her bag, trying to catch Sally's eyes so she could get the bill. 'I think I'll go back to the motel now. I'm kind of tired.'

  'Shouldn't you have a bit more to eat first? A bowl of soup is not much of a meal.'

  'No, I'm full, honestly.' If he thought she was going to stick around and tell him the story of her life, he was crazy.

  He looked doubtfully from her to the empty bowl. 'I know you're probably not feeling that great, b
ut you should be able to manage more than that. Why don't you have a sandwich if you don't want more soup?'

  'No! I don't want anything more.' Her tone was sharp and she saw his eyebrows lift as the temperature in his green eyes dropped. Her former irritation had returned full force, though it was more with herself than him.

  'If that's all you're having for tea—'

  'Look, Leon, I'm an adult, now. I don't need a nanny,' Merle said nastily, stressing the British term.

  'Don't you?' he asked, his own anger rising to meet hers. 'You obviously can't look after yourself. If you could, you wouldn't have caught that cold in the first place. The only thing that surprises me is that you aren't out there watching that bloody site right now. What happened? Couldn't you drag a hospital bed up the hill?'

  'Oh, you'd love it if I forgot all about the well, wouldn't you? Well, don't hold your breath because I'm not going to.' Merle stood up abruptly and peered down at him. 'And now that you mention it, I think I will go out and have a look tonight.' With that parting shot, she stalked over to the cash register to pay her bill.

  Leon came up behind her as she was waiting for the cashier and reaching past her, tossed a handful of coins on the counter to cover the cost of his coffee. Then, without even looking in her direction, he walked out of the truckstop. Finally, the cashier returned to the cash register. Merle still didn't have her bill, but eventually it was tracked down and she was able to pay for her meal and leave.

  During the few minutes delay in her departure, her temper abated and she knew she couldn't possibly carry out her intention to go out to the site. Even if she were dressed for it, she was in no condition to go scrambling around the prairie in the middle of the night. Just coming out for a meal had depleted her small store of energy. No, the site would just have to wait until tomorrow.