The day grew longer as I waited for Max to return. I tried to work on my book, but my concentration was lost. I spent most of the day cleaning the house, which was always my therapy when I was upset about something. Perhaps a messy house reflects a messy mind.
At times I paced the floor and stared at the phone waiting for word. I even contemplated calling Officer Moorehead to find out if he had seen Max, but each time I talked myself out of it. If Max wasn't with Riley, he would be totally embarrassed by me calling around looking for him. At one point I had myself convinced that his disappearance had nothing to do with Riley, but his reaction to how close we became the night before. I thought that maybe this is what Max does when he gets to close. Maybe he runs away. Maybe Riley's friends were right.
Finally around three in the afternoon, his jeep pulled into the drive. I ran to the screen door and watched him walk from the truck. When he saw me at the door, he turned and came toward the house. He was walking slow, and I searched his body for signs of pain as I walked out to the porch to meet him.
"Hi. I was worried about you." I searched his eyes for answers, and found a clue in the swollen gash above his left eye.
"Sorry," he said, trying to smile. "I didn't realize I'd be gone this long."
"What happened?"
"Well I ran into Riley..."
As he reached the spot where I was standing on the porch, he put his arms around my waist. I reach up and pushed his hair back, admiring his battle scar.
"Looks like he ran into you too."
"Yeah a little..."
I kissed him gently on the lips and held him tight. He let out a low groan and I pulled away.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just a little sore."
"Come on," I said, taking his hand and leading him into the house. "I think you need to sit down."
We went into the living room and Max sat on the couch. I went to the kitchen and retrieved a towel full of ice to put on his swollen eye.
"So what happened?" I repeated.
"I drove by Riley's to have a word with him." He winced as I placed the ice on his eye.
"And?"
"He was still asleep when I got there, and he didn't like the way I woke him up."
"How did you wake him up?"
"I pour a bucket of cold water on him while he was in bed." He grinned, pleased with his ingenuity, and I laughed.
"I bet that was a rude awakening."
"Yeah, he came flyin' out of bed, cussin and hollerin'. I told him what a real piece of shit he was for what he tried to do to you last night and that he owed you a big apology."
"I won't hold my breath for that."
"Oh, I think you'll be surprised." He laughed, and then grabbed his side. "Damn, it hurts to laugh."
"I take it your head isn't the only thing Riley ran into..."
"Um... no," he said, rubbing his ribs.
"Why do you think I'll be surprised?" I asked.
"Cause Riley's in jail and the Sheriff doesn't plan on letting him out until he gives you a formal apology."
I laughed and shook my head. "I take it Officer Moorehead ran into Riley too."
"Yes," he sighed, "and I'm mighty grateful he did, cause I was in sore need of a friend about the time he showed up."
"Max why did you go over there? You didn't have to prove anything to me."
"I wasn't proving anything to you, Jamie. I was letting Riley know that he can't walk all over women the way he does."
"So what happened? How did Riley end up in jail?"
"He and I were fightin' like a couple of bulls when Tom Moorehead got there. He tried to pull Riley off of me and Riley turned around and swung at him before he knew what he was doing. Old Tom had his club in his hand and damn near split Riley's head open with it. Riley went down like a dead mule and Tom cuffed him. He arrested him with the charge of attempting to assault an officer."
"I can't believe it..."
"I was a bit surprised myself. Tom acted madder than me."
"Well, he had called here this morning and wanted to talk about what happened last night. I told him I was worried that you had gone over there. When I told him it was Riley, he said he wasn't surprised, that Riley had done the same thing with other women. He said he was going to go that way and have a talk with him. I guess I'm really glad he did."
"Anyway," groaned Max, shifting his body on the couch, "I had to go down to the Sheriff's office and fill out a bunch of forms and act as a witness to what happened. That's where I've been the last few hours. Before I left, Tom said he would make sure you got a formal apology from Riley before he would be released."
"Well, I hope it teaches him a lesson."
Max closed his eyes and I looked down at his face. He was so handsome. I leaned over and kissed his cheek and he smiled, keeping his eyes closed.
"I hope it taught you a lesson too."
"What?" he asked defiantly, turning his face toward mine.
"Pick on guys your own size!"
"Pfft, he's not that big."
"Yeah, right."
"Well," I sighed, carefully snuggling into his arms. "Thank you for trying to defend my honor."
He smiled at me and kissed the tip of my nose. "You're worth defending."
We started to kiss and I felt the passion stirring. His hand caressed my side as our lips stayed pressed together. I wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and make love to him.
"I don't suppose in all your valor that your happened to stop by the drug store today."
"Actually," laughed Max, "I did... on my way home. But I think I my ribs might be too sore to put them to any use right now."
"Oh Max," I sighed. "Do you think they're broken?"
"Just one."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, the Sheriff made me go and have x-rays done."
"You have a broken rib?" I sat up and looked at him in disbelief. "Why didn't you say something?" I jumped up from the couch and stood in front of him. "Lay down for Pete's sake. How on earth did you drive yourself home?"
"I'm okay, Jamie," he insisted. "I just need to take it easy for a few days."
"Max please, humor me," I begged. "Lay down and get comfortable."
"Okay.. okay...." he groaned, lifting his feet up on the couch and laying down on the pillow. I untied his shoes and pulled them off.
"Can I get you something?" I asked. "Do you need anything for pain?"
"I'd love a beer if you wouldn't mind running over to my place to get me one."
"No problem," I said, turning toward the door. "Anything else?"
"No, I took some Advil at the clinic."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
I walked briskly over to the cabin and grabbed a couple of beers from Max's refrigerator. The phone rang just as I started to leave. I hesitated, not sure if I should answer it or not. By the third ring I decided to pick it up.
"Hello?"
"Oh... hi... is this Jamie?" It was a woman's voice.
"Yes."
"Oh, this is Tammy."
"Oh hi."
"Is Max there?"
"Well, he's over at the house right now. I just came over to get him a beer."
"Gee wiz, I guess he's got you waiting on him."
I really didn't want to tell her about everything that had happened, so I tried to just gloss over her comment.
"Don't they all." I joked. "Can I have him call you back?"
"Oh sure," she hesitated, "If he wants to."
"Okay, I'll tell him."
"Bye."
I hung up the phone and walked back to the house. When I entered the living room, Max was still laying on the couch, but propped up into a sitting position and looking at the folder of erotic stories. I froze in my tacks when he looked up at me.
"Where'd you find this?" he asked, looking back down at the stories.
"Up in the attic," I said, popping a beer and handing it to him. "In was in one of the boxes of Margarite's writings. Have you ever seen it before?"
"A long time ago..." He had a whimsical smile on his face. "Although I never read the contents, but I had a pretty good idea of what was in it. I guess I just felt kind of weird reading it."
"Did Margarite write that stuff?"
"Yep," he said, tossing the folder onto the table.
I had a million questions and yet bit my tongue to ask any of them. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know the answers.
"Why would you feel weird reading it?"
"Because she wrote it about my father."
My head buzzed in confusion as his words sank in. "Your father? Margarite knew your father?"
"A long time ago," he explained. "I was just out of high school. My mother died when I was twelve and my dad raised me the rest of the way. He never seemed much interested in women until I went off to college. Margarite was about your age when she came down here looking for a place to buy. My dad was a broker in town and helped her find the place. So that's how they met."
"But I thought you said she never dated anyone..."
"She never did after him. That was along time ago. They were both very discreet about their relationship. My dad was fourteen years older than her and it's a small town. I didn't even know about it until after my dad died and Margarite told me."
"Oh gosh, Max," I said, realizing I was dredging up a lot of old memories. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay, Jamie," smiled Max. "He died the year I graduated from college. Margarite was devastated by his death, and because very few people knew about it, she had no one to grieve with but me. I think that's why she hired me to help her take care of the property."
"Well, that makes a lot of sense..."
"She said I always reminded her of my dad because I look so much like him."
"He must have been very handsome."
"Flattery will get you a big, wet kiss if you come over here closer," teased Max.
I walked over and sat on the edge of the couch next to him. I leaned over met his lips, savoring each kiss. My only regret was that he had a broken rib and it would be a few days before we could resume our lovemaking. I sat back up and held his hand, playing with his fingers as he looked at me.
"You realize if my father had married your aunt, we would be cousins," he laughed.
"Oh my God!" I cried, "you're right!"
"Kissing cousins, for sure," he teased.
"I don't even want to go there," I laughed. "That's just too weird."
"Don't worry," he assured me. "There's no blood relation between us."
"Phew!" I sighed. "I have enough hang-ups to deal with."
Max laughed and stroked my hair. "I want to hold you, but it hurts."
"Didn't you know love always hurts?" I winked at him, and leaned down gently against his chest.
"Yeah, I guess somewhere I did know that."
©Copyright 1997 - 1998 Angela Preston. These stories may not be reprinted in any form without written permission.