A Trashy Affair (29 page)

Someone had cleared the walkway to the front door earlier in the day, but six inches of new snow now filled the gap. Merlin lifted Jane down and sent her ahead while he retrieved his duffel and her suitcase, hefting the first over his shoulder and carrying the luggage without the assistance of the sissy wheels. The tall door decorated with a sizeable holly, fir, and pinecone wreath opened. A sparkling chandelier hanging from an ornate ceiling medallion illuminated the family standing in the hall. Not humble Cajun cottage people and definitely not trailer trash, they pressed forward to embrace Jane. Merlin stayed on the other side of the threshold like a vampire who needed an invitation to enter.

“We thought you were dead in a ditch!” exclaimed an elderly lady, who most likely had been Jane’s size once but had been boiled down to tiny by age. She wore a soft powder blue quilted robe with matching slippers and gazed at Merlin with Jane’s green eyes set in a soft lacework of wrinkles. Her straight white hair, beautifully cut and styled, gleamed under the light from the fixture. “Come in, come in, you’ll catch your death of cold, not to mention upping the size of our heating bill.”

A second set of green eyes belonged to an earth mother of a woman with large, soft breasts swaying beneath her red flannel nightgown covered over with a plaid wool shawl, and fluffy gray socks on her feet. A braided rope of silver hair lay over her shoulder. She stepped close as Merlin entered.

“You must be Merlin, the falcon. Yes, I can see the spirits of the air in those eyes. I’m Kathleen Marshall, Jane’s mother.”

Not knowing what else to say, he responded with, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

The grandmother snorted, but ordered a shaggy dark-haired young man approaching thirty forward to help with the bags. A close-cropped beard framed his face. He stood with his graybeard father, both tall and amber of eye, sharing a strong family resemblance and waiting for the women to stop hugging and gabbing so they could get a word in edgewise. Obviously, both had stayed dressed in heavy jeans, boots, and flannel shirts in case they had to mount a rescue mission in the middle of the night. The Marshall males sized up Merlin like wolves considering whether to admit a new member to the pack. He stared right back at them, not about to cower or show his soft underbelly even if the grandeur of the house unnerved him.

“Heath, the luggage,” the grandmother repeated again. “You know where Jane’s room is. The one at the end of the upstairs hall is for our guest.”

Jane’s brother came forward and participated in a minor tug of war over the suitcase. Merlin let him win, but he hung onto his duffel. “I’ll carry it up. I should get some sleep before I turn around and head back to Louisiana tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not! You are not going to spend Christmas Day on the road. Take off your coats and come into the front parlor instead of standing in this drafty hallway. Visit with us a while, then you can sleep in as long as you like tomorrow. That’s the one advantage of not having any grandchildren yet. No need to get up early to open the gifts. Now, why so late?” Kathleen Marshall helped Jane out of her heavy red coat and sniffed at the collar. “Did you have to stop because you were carsick? When we got your call from Billings, I said you should have stayed the night there with the weather getting worse.”

“No, Mom, a little girl barfed on me after we rescued her family, or rather Merlin did. That’s why we’re so late,” Jane explained.

She began to unbutton Merlin’s jacket since he hadn’t made a move to take it off. Tugging on a sleeve, she forced him to put down the duffel and relinquish the peacoat. She hung it on the brass hook of an impressive coat rack complete with a mirror, a seat for removing boots and topped with a rack of huge elk antlers providing extra space for an array of knitted scarves and mittens. He removed his black watch cap, placed it on one of the prongs, and smoothed his ruffled hair with one large hand.

Jane steered him into a high-ceiling room with a ten foot Christmas tree and a fire burning bright in the hearth. He expected mahogany antiques but found comfortable easy chairs with hassocks and a long, deep coffee-colored sofa where he took the offered seat. His booted feet touched the edge of a black bearskin rug beneath the coffee table, actually a flat-topped chest so worn with use its painted pattern was difficult to discern. Before claiming one of the armchairs, her father offered Merlin his hand for a firm shake.

“Roy Marshall. You already met my wife, Kathleen, and my mother-in-law, Ellen Draper. Heath will be back in a minute. That sounds like quite a story you have to tell.”

Merlin nodded and said not a word. When Heath returned and threw himself into the other armchair, the women lined up on the sofa like tiny birds perched on a wide branch with Jane next to Merlin. She did the squawking.

“We had to leave the highway in Livingston and came across an old van covered with snow in a ditch. Merlin broke the back window and carried two children and a woman out. They had carbon monoxide poisoning, but we got there in time. Then, we found the husband where he’d fallen into a ravine when he went too close to the soft edge of the road in the snow. His arm was broken.”

Heath, legs up on an ottoman and hands behind his head, said kind of snarky, “I suppose you went down there and carried him up on your mighty back.”

“Nope. Because that would be dumb, leaving the women and children alone and maybe getting trapped down there with him. He was conscious. I threw him a rope and towed him out with my truck as far as I could, then pulled him the rest of the way. If he hadn’t been signaling with a flashlight, I suspect we might have driven right on by, and no one would have found him before a thaw.”

“Merlin saved four lives tonight. The doctor said so at the hospital,” Jane answered, flashing a glare at her brother.

“Four rescued. Three more and I’ll be even.”

Looking into Merlin’s eyes, Jane caged his long, bristled jaw in her hands and shook his head side to side. “No, you do not get to keep score. Only God is allowed to do that, and I am fairly sure He is pleased with you.”

Kathleen Marshall peered around her daughter. “Do you see, Roy, they have a cosmic connection. I knew it. And exactly how do you know that God isn’t a Goddess, Jane?”

Her brother laughed. “Yeah, Jane, what do you know? Mom, I think they call those vibes sexual attraction these days.”

“Sometimes I hate you, Heath Cliff Marshall!” Jane shot back.

“Heathcliff—like one those seagulls on the old Red Skelton show? My granny loved to watch the reruns.” Merlin actually smiled, imagining Jane’s hostile brother with his arms tucked in his pits like a bird.

“Oh, my yes! Mr. Skelton could be so funny without being dirty like the comedians today. The other bird was Gertrude. We could have named Jane that,” her grandmother twittered.

“No, Mother. Heathcliff as in
Wuthering Heights
. You know that. Have you read it, Merlin?” Kathleen waited for his answer.

“Nope. We had a list we could choose from in school. I did
Red Badge of Courage
instead.”

“Did you like it?”

“Not much. The kid ran away and let his fellow soldiers down.”

“It is an anti-war novel, you must understand. Now,
Jane Eyre
is my favorite book, which is how Jane got her name. Have you read that?”

Merlin settled for shaking his head and suppressing his grin. “So, Jane Eyre Marshall. What else don’t I know about you?”

“She’s afraid of spiders and snakes,” her brother offered.

“That I already figured out, thanks.”

“Quiet, Heath. Honestly, you sound like a six-year-old. She wouldn’t fear them if you hadn’t put them in her bed and her shoes all the time. They are simply creatures of the earth we all share. Well, feel free to borrow my copy of
Jane Eyre
while you are here, Merlin. You have much in common with Mr. Rochester.”

“Mom was an English lit major and taught at the high school level once she went back to college and got her ed credits,” Jane explained. “Could we leave the literary discussions for tomorrow? Merlin is tired. I am exhausted. See you in the morning.”

Jane rose and took his hand almost protectively. “Let me show you the way.”

“Separate bedrooms under my roof,” her grandmother called after them.

Cheeks burning, Jane got them out of the parlor. Merlin grabbed his duffel in the hall, and they started up the staircase with its banister garlanded in evergreens and red bows. She stopped outside his bedroom door. “See, I told you my family wasn’t perfect. Overbearing brother, nutty mother, very opinionated grandmother, and a quiet, stay out of it kind of dad. Oh, you scored big with Gran knowing about Red Skelton.”

“Yeah, they love me at Magnolia Villa. Still, your family is a lot better than mine. This house—”

“Is all Grandma has left. The Drapers lost their fortune in the great stock market crash of ’29, the year she came into the world. The place was falling down around her after my grandfather died and before my parents moved back here and made repairs. It’s a grand money pit. Give me a minute to get in my flannel nightie, and I’ll join you. Not very sexy, but this place is so damned drafty.”

“No, we should honor your grandmother’s rules.”

“What the…”

He stopped her with his kiss. Touching, feeling, lip-locked, they lingered in the hall until Heath caught them in the act and said, “Get a room. No, don’t! Get to your rooms, your separate rooms. Mom and Dad will be up here in a minute.”

“
Parting is such sweet sorrow
. Shakespeare,” Merlin said.

“
Get thee to a nunnery
. Hamlet,” her brother replied, and they parted.

****

The wind howled around the house like wolves closing in on prey and shoved paws of frigid air under the aged window frames. Tired as he was from fighting ice and snow, Merlin could not rest. Strange how quickly he’d become accustomed to having Jane pressed against him at night whether they had sex or not. The down comforter on the four-poster bed settled snugly around his body keeping him plenty warm, so that wasn’t the problem.

Not thinking to buy pajamas somewhere along the way, he kept his briefs and a T-shirt on in case he had what Jane called his “episodes,” putting a nice name to it. If he started to rave and run into the hall, her family would know him for a nut case, but at least he wouldn’t be a naked nut case. Much as he respected the aged for their wisdom and endurance despite life’s tragedies, he wanted the comfort of Jane.

Rolling out from under the feather blanket, he put his bare feet on the cold floorboards and with goose bumps rising on his flesh made his way to the door. Cracking it open, he surveyed the hall illuminated along its length by a couple of nightlights. He’d watched Jane go into her room strategically placed between her parents and her brother almost like the way the old Cajuns guarded their daughters from men like him. No sound out there, not even a mouse. He cracked a grin at that Christmas Eve chestnut. Carefully moving to her door, he tried the knob—unlocked as if she anticipated he might join her. Entering and closing it softly, he let his eyes adjust to dimness, no tripping over suitcases this time. Beyond the lace curtains, the snow had stopped, and though the wind still whipped the treetops, a cold moon shed some light on the rumpled covers of the bed.

No Jane. He went back to the door, opened it a crack and listened. Below, the ping of a microwave sounded. Having trouble resting herself, she’d gone to make some chamomile tea he was sure. He didn’t flatter himself that she missed him too much to sleep. Shutting the door again, he got into her bed and fit himself into the warm spot she’d left behind. He put his arms around her pillow and wrapped in her light, fresh scent, he slept.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jane left the kitchen with herbal tea in hand and started the return to her room when her grandmother called out from the rear parlor where she slept now that the stairs had become too much for her. “Jane, it that you?”

“Yes, Gran. Just making some tea. You want some?” She peeked inside the room to find her grandmother sitting up in bed, light on, a book opened on her covers.

“I would. My arthritis isn’t letting me sleep, and those pills upset my stomach.”

“Take mine. I’ll make another.”

By the time she returned with a second cup, her mother sat by the bedside in a little needlepoint chair helping Ellen remove the gloves she wore to soothe her knotted hands. Her grandmother wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup and took a sip. “Good, thank you, Jane.”

“You want some, too, Mom?”

“No. I heard people talking and came down to see if I was needed. Mother’s ears, you never lose them after you have kids. You couldn’t sleep?”

“You know how it goes, exhausted but can’t rest after all the stuff going on.” Jane set her tea on the nightstand and brought a matching chair to place beside her mother. The fact that her grandmother had once sewn well enough to make the floral seat covers wrung her heart. Arthritis took that skill from Ellen and left her unoccupied and peevish.

“You miss Merlin in your bed. It is perfectly fine with me if you want to sleep with him.” Her mother patted Jane’s hand in understanding.

“Kathleen, do not encourage her! This Merlin, well, he seems rather unrefined for a college educated young woman.”

“Opposites attract, Mother. Remember the petroleum engineer and the hippie who wanted to save the earth?”

“Only too well. I could never divine what a normal man like Roy saw in you unless it was all the free love you were spreading around in the Sixties.”

“Joining the commune was not about free love! We wanted pure air, food, and water.”

“And drugs.”

“We did not pollute our bodies with drugs. Well, maybe a little pot, and there was that one LSD trip, but nothing on a regular basis. Oh, Jane, the last owner sold the commune land for condo building a few months ago. Soon the apple orchard where your father and I were married will be bulldozed, gone forever. Remember, we used to take you and Heath for picnics there whenever we visited from Louisiana.” Her mother took a tissue from the sleeve of her nightgown and dabbed her eyes.