by Renee Roszel
“I live close by. No foggy roads.”
Striking out past him, she retorted, “Good night, Max.”
The drive back was silent and spooky. Fingers of fog drifted across the road, swelling and thickening as she progressed toward her home. It wasn’t until she finally reached the lighthouse that the fog had grown impenetrable. Making her way to the door was an eerie sensation, like being lost in a bowl of gray whipped cream. It worried her that David’s car wasn’t there. The curvy mountain roads weren’t particularly conducive to driving blind. And the situation was getting worse by the minute.
David never came home, and Gina couldn’t sleep at all, thrashing in her bed, then pacing the floor, harboring horrible visions of his car plunging off into a gorge while groping through the fog.
At four in the morning, she called the Maryvale sheriff’s office to ask if there’d been any accidents reported. They told her there hadn’t but they’d watch for his car when they made their rounds.
She waited, in bed, hardly breathing, until almost seven, hugging Lumper to her breast, expecting the phone to ring, expecting to be told that her husband was dead. But the call didn’t come. Finally, she forced herself to get up, to eat.
As she finished scrambling into a pair of warm-ups, the jangling of the phone startled her, making her cry out as though she’d been struck. Gathering her tattered wits, she ran to the phone, dropping in a huddled lump to the couch before grabbing up the receiver. “Hello,” she whispered, her voice husky with fear.
“Mrs. Baron? This is Sheriff Hooligan.”
“Yes, sheriff?”
“Er—my deputy, Arnie, just called in to report he’s located that rental Mercedes of your—of Dr. Baron’s.”
Gina’s throat constricted. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. It’s parked at the inn. Probably didn’t want to drive on those twisting roads in the fog and decided to say there. Well—uh, if that’s everything?”
“Yes…” she managed, her lips trembling with relief. “Thank you, sheriff. Goodbye.” Of course. David was too sensible to drive in such a thick fog. Why didn’t she think of that? He’d been her sensible, responsible husband for ten years! She should have known that he would have done the sane thing. Right now, though, she wanted to strangle him. Didn’t he know she would be worried sick? He should have had the decency to call.
The phone clicked in her ear, and she replaced the receiver. Even her frustration over David’s hesitancy to call her didn’t overshadow her relief that he was all right. Now that her thoughts were cleared of visions of his crumpled and bleeding body at the bottom of some gorge, her mind turned to a nagging truth she’d discovered during the long, frightening night—a horrible reality she’d been forcefully suppressing.
David was going to be hard to forget, hard to replace. He might be intensely controlling and extremely controlled, but he was an exceptional man. A man of strength, intelligence and compassion—and utterly delicious passions. How could she ever, completely, rid her heart of his hold on it?
What would her life be like tomorrow, when David was gone? What would her hard-fought freedom bring her? True, she would be able to make all her decisions, but what of her inevitable moments of insecurity? Would there ever again be someone so willing to put aside his work to offer a comforting arm, to share a peaceful sunset, to laugh with her, though no words had been said? Would there ever be anyone else who would work so hard, demand so much of himself, just to give her comfort and security?
“Oh—if only you could find it in you to compromise. Give me some space, a chance to be your partner—your equal…” she cried aloud, drawing a concerned meow from Lumper. As the cat bounded into her lap and began to lick her trembling chin, she mumbled, “I—love you, David. I don’t want to lose you. Why can’t you help me…?”
DURING THE FIFTEEN-minute intermission of Saturday night’s performance of Oklahoma, there was a knock on Gina’s dressing-room door. The play was going fine, so far, but Gina had been walking through her part in a strange, numbed state. She was apprehensive about looking David in the eye, and in every scene they’d shared, she’d avoided doing so. She felt frightened, depressed. Time was slipping so quickly away.
Her heart began to pound against her rib cage as the knock sounded again. She didn’t know if she wanted it to be David or not. Her hands shaking, she went on dusting her haggard face with powder, hoping to better hide the dark circles below her eyes. “Come in,” she called. It had come out as a fragile squeak.
Watching the reflection of the door opening in the makeup mirror, she was a little letdown to see Paul standing there in his chaps, sequined cowboy shirt and wide-brimmed hat, looking as sweet and ineffectual as ever. She smiled, but without much happiness. “Hi.” Working at lifting her mood, she teased, “I noticed you had that cardboard horse tamed tonight.”
He blushed and grinned at her, pulling a folding chair away from the wall. Turning it to face him, he straddled it, clutching its back with his hands. When he eyed her directly, his smile faded. “You look terrible.”
She fumbled with a tube of lipstick. “Thanks,” she returned dejectedly. “You should give the halftime pep talks to professional football teams—the ones you want to lose, that is.”
He chuckled, but it had a dark, worried sound. “No, Gina, I mean it. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and applied the lipstick before answering. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Did it have anything to do with David?”
Her hand began to shake so, she had to put the lipstick down. With a sad sigh, she nodded.
“I thought so. What’s he done now?”
She lifted a shoulder helplessly. “He didn’t come home. Worried me sick. I thought he’d been killed, but the sheriff’s office told me his car was parked at the Maryvale Inn.”
Another voice, sharp and angry, interjected, “From what I hear, that thoughtless bum’s treated you like dirt ever since he got here!”
Both Gina and Paul spun toward the entrance. Max was standing there. He closed the door at his back and lounged against it. In his Jud costume, unshaven and disheveled, he looked every inch a vengeful villain. And there was a vehemence in his eyes that frightened Gina.
With a crude oath, he growled, “Somebody ought to take that smartass bigmouth down a peg or two.”
Gina jumped out of her chair and Paul reflexively leaped up as she cried, “Don’t you do anything, Max. You shouldn’t have been listening. Besides,” she added, trying to defuse the situation, “it really shouldn’t matter to me. He’s leaving me alone, like I asked him to. It’s just that with the fog—”
“Don’t you see? That crud’s gettin’ back at you for dumping him.”
There was another rap on the door, and Fred’s voice called cheerily, “Two minutes, Laurey.”
“Okay,” she answered, Max’s bad-mouthing having set her teeth on edge. “Max, forget—”
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll show that big-deal jackass he can’t get away with jerkin’ you around!” Max ground out. Then, as abruptly as he’d come, he left.
Gina grasped Paul’s hand. “Go stop him, Paul. I don’t want trouble.”
Paul made a sour face and shook his head. “I don’t know if I can, Gina. Max’s been spoiling for a fight ever since David made a fool of him at rehearsal. Besides, I half want to see that husband of yours get beat up, too. You know how I feel about you.”
She squeezed his hand appealingly, her eyes filling. “Please, Paul. David’s no match for Max.” At her anguished plea, he grimaced. “Okay. I’ll try to talk some sense into him.”
She managed a sorry smile. “Thanks.” Then, wistfully, she added, “If it only could have been you, Paul—you’re such a sweet guy.”
He snorted in self-disgust. “Yeah, I know. And babies love me, too.” He exhaled heavily. “I’ll try to catch Max. Besides, you need to get ready.” Quickly, and without warning, he dropped a brief kiss on her cheek. “Don’t yo
u worry. I’ll do my best.”
When he had gone, Gina felt worse. She didn’t know what Paul’s “best” might be, but she had a nagging feeling it wouldn’t be good enough.
She shouldn’t have said anything. In any case, she certainly hadn’t meant for Max to hear. He already had a chip on his shoulder as far as David was concerned. The last thing in the world she wanted was a confrontation between those two. Max would kill him! What she wanted—needed—was a confrontation between herself and David—an air-cleaning to settle things, once and for all. But so far, that just hadn’t happened.
David had acted strangely this evening. He’d played his part with a dashing allure she couldn’t disregard, drawing her into his loving embrace, smiling at her, teasing, taunting, courting. But offstage, he was quiet, pensive and reserved when they chanced to meet.
Apparently the time for talking about compromises was past. She ran trembly hands over her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of grease paint and powder assailing her nostrils. Glancing up, she saw the reflection of a very unhappy woman in the mirror. Closing her eyes, she blocked out the bleak reflection.
The overture started, signaling the beginning of the third act. Grabbing up her bonnet, she scurried out the door to her place in the wings. David was already there. She didn’t think he knew she was behind him, but he whispered, “I need to talk to you later, Gina.”
She was startled, and suddenly both hopeful and apprehensive. “Talk about what?”
He half turned, his eyes obscured by his hat brim, but his mouth was set in a firm line, his jaw flexing. “It won’t take long. Are you going to the cast party?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Just for a minute?” he urged.
She looked away, not wanting to confront his face—so solemn, yet so splendidly carved it made her heart leap. “I’d rather not.”
“Meet me in the parking lot, then?”
She heard her cue. There was no more time to discuss it. Not knowing what else she could do, she hurried past him, but felt him grasp her hand. “The parking lot,” he insisted. It hadn’t been a question.
“Yes, yes, David,” she hissed below her breath. “I’ve got to go.”
He released her then, and she ran onstage.
GINA AND DAVID were perched high on a prop haystack. The scene took place late at night, as Curly and Laurey’s friends had trapped them up there as a joke during their shivaree. This was the climactic scene where Jud, in his jealousy and twisted need for revenge, decides to burn Curly and Laurey alive as they are alone and isolated atop the hay.
Gina was serious. There had been a malevolent glint in Max’s eyes ever since he’d overheard her talking to Paul about David’s not returning home. And now that look was all too evident as David, unaware of Max’s animosity, made his leap from the hay to thwart Jud’s evil plan. The two men began to scuffle, as they were supposed to do. But a few seconds into the choreographed fracas, Gina heard Max mumble, “Think fast, Doc,” slamming David in the face with a right cross. Caught off guard, David staggered backward in surprise.
Gina screamed, then covered her mouth, remembering the audience. “No—don’t—” she cried, hoping Max would relent. After all, the script required that David win this fight.
Max leered at David as he reeled back. “How’d you like that, Mr. High-and-Mighty?” he challenged under his breath, advancing again.
David stared at Max, stunned. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he touched his nose. It was bleeding. “Are you crazy?” he accused, in just above a whisper.
“Let’s say I’m followin’ an uncontrollable urge.” He took another shot, clipping David’s jaw, and he stumbled backward, again.
Gina cast a helpless glance around. Everyone in the cast was crowded in the wings, looking aghast. Fred was wiping his brow, his expression alarmed.
Cautiously they circled each other. Gina shot a frightened glance toward the audience. They were caught up in rapt attention, unaware that the fight onstage was real.
She bit into her finger, struggling mentally. What could she do? David was no match for Max. He was no fighter. He wasn’t even defending himself! She tried again, pleading as inaudibly as she could, “Don’t hurt him—Ma—Jud!”
Max lunged, plugging David with a hard shot to the solar plexis. Gina cried out. Fred dropped his script and stomped on it.
Doubled over, David saw stars. He couldn’t breathe and he tasted blood. Shuffling backward, he sucked in some air, but not enough. What the hell had come over Max? It surely had something to do with his obsession for Gina, but he didn’t know what could have made the man go insane like this.
When he’d managed to partially straighten, Max was right there, landing a left to his cheek. The force of it spun David around. Though he lurched badly, he managed to keep from falling, but not by much.
There was a gasp from the audience as they rooted for their hero. Right now, Curly didn’t feel much like a hero. He felt more like a punching bag. What in the hell was he going to do?
A bit disjointedly, he reeled back to face Max. “Damn it, man,” he forced out through a groan. “What’s your problem?”
“I wanted Gina to see you for the zero you are. Thanks for not disappointing me,” he jeered. With a disgusted snort, he ground out, “Let’s get this farce over with.”
At long last, Max pulled his rubber knife from his boot and charged David. The rehearsed tussle lasted for another few minutes before Max belatedly did as he was supposed to do. With a high-pitched cry of pain, he fell on his fake knife and feigned death.
The play ended in a daze for Gina, still in a state of shock at having to watch David take such a beating. She felt sick at heart. It had been her fault.
Luckily, David had been offstage long enough for one of the stagehands, a first-aid-course graduate, to clean up his bloodied nose. When the two combatants passed each other in the wings as David was about to go back onstage, Max shot him a belligerent look. “If it weren’t for the show, I’d have laid you out, man.”
David halted, turned and watched Max huff away. Shaking his head, and then grimacing at the pain it caused, he put the ice pack back on his cheek to wait for his cue. Was he nuts or was the whole mess a bad dream?
When the curtain finally fell and David released Gina from a kiss that had been understandably tentative, considering his sore face, he asked, “Why did Max try to kill me?” His voice a harsh rasp, he went on, “I’m sure you know, because I’m only in pain when you’re involved.”
Feeling guilty over her unintentional responsibility, but unable to admit, she stormed, “That’s not fair, David. I didn’t want him to hurt you. He had to know it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
A cold smile suddenly lifted his lips, and he softly accused, “You really do think I’m a coward, don’t you?”
She cast her gaze away, hoping she thought no such thing. But she couldn’t help saying, “David—any man has the right to defend himself.”
He grunted out a bitter laugh. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Taking her by the arm and aiming her toward her dressing room, he ordered, “Change. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in twenty minutes.”
“Are you going to be all right?” she asked, worriedly scanning his bruised profile.
He turned, capturing her gaze with his grave, steady observation. “I’ll know that soon enough,” he murmured, before pivoting away.
She watched him disappear around a corner, wondering what he’d meant. Perplexed and feeling thoroughly drained, she entered her dressing room.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d changed into her faded sweatpants and orange sweatshirt. Her hair fell in soft waves halfway to her waist, the curling iron having stolen the wildness from her curls. When she reached the dark parking lot, David wasn’t there, but Max appeared silently, as though he’d been waiting for her.
She stiffened, granting him an indignant frown. “How could you, Max?” she demanded. “How could you have done that to David, an
d right onstage?”
He leaned against the hood of his midsize sedan and half grinned. “Don’t be mad at me, Gina. The guy needed to be taught a lesson, so I taught him one. End of story.” He held out a hand, taking her by the elbow. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to stay for the cast party. So, what do you want to do? I’m free all night.” It had come out sounding suggestive.
She withdrew her arm from his grasp. “I’m going nowhere with you. You proved nothing with your display of temper except that you can throw your weight around. David doesn’t even know why you hit him.”
“Right. Sure. He’s a smart Ph.D. He’ll figure it out.” Taking her arm again, he insisted, “Come on.” He led her to the passenger door of his car. “We’ll go to my place and celebrate the play’s success and the fact that David’s leaving. I bought some good wine—”
She jerked away, highly irritated. “Max, I hope you’re not deluding yourself into believing you beat David up for me, because you didn’t. You did it because you’re jealous of him.”
Max turned abruptly, his face hardening. “You’re kidding,” he retorted in disbelief.
She shook her head, adamant. “I’ve tried to be civil to you, but you’ve been an irritant in my life from the first moment we met. You’re a small man, Max. You have to build up your ego by making other people seem smaller than you. You decided you wanted me, so you had to try and make David look inadequate in my eyes. But you only made yourself look bad. Even bruised and bleeding, David’s a better man than you are. Everybody in town likes him, and you can’t stand that—can’t stand not being the coolest dude around!”
“Even you like him, I suppose?” he demanded.
She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to eye him directly. “I’m not happy about it, but—yes. I like him. There’s a lot of goodness and kindness in David Baron.”
His features contorted in a scowl. “Don’t you see why I had to do what I did? I’m crazy about you, babe,” he admitted pleadingly, grasping her by the shoulders. “You’ve been my one-and-only fantasy since that time I saw you flounce out of your house buck naked. Don’t brush me off. Give me a chance. I’m a great guy when you get to know me.”
