The Marriage Contract (8 page)

“Oooh, what you
just said,” she said, crinkling her nose as if she smelled something foul.

He hunched his
shoulders.  “What did I say?”

“Look at my
family and think about how that won't work.”  She splayed her fingers and began
counting on them.  “For one, my brother is a priest.  For two, my mother will
never let me hear the end of it no matter how much she wants grandchildren. 
And three,” her face softened and her voice lowered, “I don't think that it's
fair to expect a child to grow up without a father.  Not if I can help it.”

She had a
point.  More and more studies indicated the need for children to have an active
father figure in their lives.  He knew firsthand how hard it could be for a kid
without a dad.  He had a father, but he was never around until it was too
late.  If Cara was seriously considering having a baby, she’d go the whole
route and make sure her child had everything he or she needed in life.  Including
a full family with hands on mom and dad.

“I've focused
so long on myself and my career that I just don't know if I can do it.  And
certainly not alone.  Sometimes I think I'm too selfish to be a mother.”

Devin shook his
head at the absurdity.  “You’re wrong.”  How could she think such a thing?

“Am I?  As you’ve
discovered, I'm not a morning person.  What if I get angry if the baby wakes me
up?  What kind of mother does that to her kids?”  She sat on the concrete steps
leading down and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees.  “I don't
want to bring a baby into my life only to discover it's too late for me to
switch channels.”

He watched her
drawn expression.  Clearly this was an issue she’d given some serious thought
to and now felt she was at a crossroads.

“It's never too
late if it's what's really in your heart.  You never know, it may be easier to
talk to Roger about this than you think.”

  She gazed up
at him and sighed.  “I don't know.  It's just so different with you, Devin.  I
mean it.  It's actually easy to talk with you about whatever crazy feelings I
have, knowing you're never going to judge me.  Like with my family.  I don’t
have to spend my time defending them.  You just laugh and accept them.  No
questions.  You have no idea what a relief it is for me.”

He knew what
she meant.  With Cara, it was welcoming not to have to measure every word or
watch his back.  It had been a long time since Devin had been able to let down
his guard and truly be himself.  “I think I have a good idea.” 

She stood up
and walked toward him.  The morning sun sparkled in her eyes.  Devin hated the
way he felt at that moment.  All he could think about was pulling her into his
arms and holding her until she smiled.  The thought of having her in his arms
warmed his heart and spread outwards.  But this wasn't seventeen years ago when
he had the freedom to act on his impulses with Cara.

He cleared his
throat in an effort to clear his thoughts.  “We'd better see if Roger made it
yet.”

Cara leaned
over the railing of the tower and looked down at the ground below.  Devin followed
her to the rail and did the same.  Below, they found Roger propped up against a
lone tree surrounded by a shiny patch of green.  His legs were crossed at the
ankles and his hands were clasped behind his neck, buried in the shiny green
vines crawling up the tree.  The smile on his face was almost heartbreaking.

“Roger!” she yelled
down.

Roger opened
his eyes and waved up at them.

“What are you
doing?”

“Just enjoying
the morning sun,” he called back.

He looked so
content, and Cara so shocked, that Devin didn't know whether to laugh or feel
bad for the guy.  He was obviously clueless about his current position.

Or he was an
idiot.

“But...you're
sitting in poison ivy!”

# # #   

Chapter Four

“Wasn't this
guy ever a boy scout?” Devin said as they took the steps down the tower two at
a time.  “Poison Ivy was taught somewhere between tent pitching 101 and how to
dig a hole.”

“Ssh.  Keep
your voice down.”  Of course, there was more than an ounce of truth in his
statement, Cara thought.  Roger was born and raised a city boy.  Yes, he was
cultured in many ways.  He knew all the best restaurants to eat at, the best
stores to shop, the best value of anything around.  But a nature lover he
wasn't and this disaster just proved it.

Devin stopped
at the plywood door at the bottom of the tower and swung around to face her. 
“No one in their right mind would take a nap in a patch of poison ivy.” 

Glaring at him,
she said, “Who said Roger was in his right mind?  He's staying at my mother’s
house, isn't he?”

“You're too hard
on your mother.  She only wants the best for you.”

“Then she could
let me have my life.”  Cara pushed past him, slamming the makeshift plywood
door shut with more force than necessary.  The sun and the August heat hit her
face with striking force and she had to shield her eyes with the width of her
fingers to focus on Roger.

He was now
standing, still surrounded by the patches of vines stretching out around the
area where he’d been sitting.  She groaned, watching him rub his hands on his
shorts, then up his arms.

“Are you sure
this is poisonous?” he asked, coming toward them. 

Devin backed up
a few steps.  Cara had the urge to do the same, but thought better of it.  He
may be inept in nature, but Roger wasn't a leper.  At least, as long as he
didn't touch her.

“Yes, and don't
rub anymore.  You're sweating and all your pores are open from running.  You're
only going to get any oil that's on you into your system faster.”

“You should
probably dive into the water to get as much of the oils off you,” Devin said.

Roger shook his
head.  “Nah, I hate ocean water.”

“Then we'd
better get back to the house,” Devin suggested.  “You're going to need to
change and treat your skin.”

“The sooner,
the better,” Cara said. 

Roger started
to scratch his neck, probably more from nerves than irritation, since she knew
he wasn't going to get a reaction to the poison ivy this quickly.    

They jogged
along the causeway and the road until they made it to the stretch of beach
connecting a long line of cottages that led to Cara's parents' house.  The
familiar scent of seaweed baking in the sun and the cry of seagulls always
surged her on.

Cara noticed
Roger lagging behind them, clutching his side.  They managed to make it all the
way to Devin’s cottage before they stopped.

“Do you want to
rest?” she said, jogging in place.

“Yeah...that
sounds...like a good idea,” Roger said, winded. 

Devin stopped
running and blew out a few deep breaths.  “Looks like you've got a side-stitch,
Roger.  Maybe you should walk the rest of the way to work it out?  My cottage
is right here.  You should probably drink some water.  You’re not used to
running.”

“No, no.  Just
give me a few minutes and I'll be tip-top.”  Roger plopped onto the sand and
bent his body forward. 

“It’s not that
far to my car.  I could drive you.”

He shook his
head again.  

“Okay, take a
load off,” Devin said, walking down toward the shoreline.

To keep her
muscles from tightening, Cara walked in paces and moved her arms back and
forth. She should have known better than to think Roger could handle a long run
his first time out.  Although she had to give him credit for the way he'd kept
up so far, she should have insisted he stay behind.

While she
wasn't use to working out this early in the morning, she had been jogging in
the mid-morning for many years.  She'd always liked working out before going to
the office and meeting with clients.  Most of her clients preferred afternoon
and evening hours, so it wasn't uncommon for her working day to start somewhere
around eleven and end around eight at night.   

To look at
Roger, no one would ever call him out of shape.  He regularly worked out at the
gym where they'd met.  She'd only gone to that gym when the owner asked her to
remodel the lounge and had given her a temporary membership to get the feel of
the place.   She’d quit going to the gym soon after the remodeling project was
complete.  

Devin stood by
the edge of the tide with his hands propped on his hips, looking out at the
ocean.  A strange feeling arose in her, pulling her to him.  His dark hair was
slick with perspiration as was his muscled arms and thighs.  His tank top clung
to him, leaving nothing for the imagination.  She wondered what it would feel
like to run her flat palms over the ridges of his back, and press her cheek
against his rock hard chest.

She shook her
head to break the thought, wondering where it had come from.     

Dragging in a
deep breath of salted sea air, she walked toward the water's edge as if she
were pulled by some invisible magnet.  Devin turned to look at her as she drew closer.

“Beautiful,
isn't it?” she said. 

“I've forgotten
just how much,” he said, almost in a whisper. 

Devin turned
his sights back to the incoming tide.  “How's he doing?”

“Roger's not
much on endurance.”

“You sound like
you're talking from experience.  Is everything okay?  You know, with the-”

She stuck out
her chin, making sure to keep her voice low as she spoke.  “I know exactly what
you're referring to and you know that's not how I meant it.”

He raised his
eyebrows.  “Everything okay?”

“It's...”

“Fine?”

“Yes,
it's...oh, never mind.”

A low rumbling
chuckle escaped him.  “I'd shoot myself if a woman ever said it like that about
me.”

“I doubt anyone
ever has.”  Cara thought she said it under her breath, but when he turned to
her and gave her a slow smile, one that almost caused her to lose her
equilibrium, she knew she'd been caught.  She touched her neck, feeling the
heat of a blush spread up her cheeks.

 A dog barked
in the distance--it was more of a whine--and Devin snapped his head up.  She
turned and looked behind them to find a dog on the edge of the beach.  She’d
seen the dog before on several occasions and approached him, only to have him
run away frightened.  It was clear by the way the dog was hobbling that he was
injured.

Roger pulled
himself up from the sand and they all headed toward the dog.  As they
approached, the dog crouched down and peered up at them.  He was panting
heavily, favoring his back paw.  The poor thing looked as if he were put
through the ringer and hung out to bake in the hot sun.

As they eased
themselves closer, the dog cowered away.  But he was clearly in no condition to
run like he had before.  Devin crouched down on the ground and held out his
hand, coaxing the animal toward him.  “Come here, boy,” he whispered.  The deep
timbre of his voice was lulling as he continued to inch his way forward. 
Eventually, he was able to win the animal’s trust.

Cara edged
closer, but Roger caught her arms and held her back.  “What are you doing?” she
asked.

“Stay away from
it.  For God's sake, it might be rabid.”  Roger's expression was one of
disgust.

She pulled her
arm out of his grasp.  “He's not acting crazy.  He's hurt.”

“He is a little
mangy and his fur is matted on the side.”  Devin's voice was low and soothing
as touched the dog’s fur.  In turn, the dog seemed to know he had nothing to
fear with Devin.  “It looks like there might be dried blood on his coat.”

Cara's heart
dropped.  “Do you think he was hit by a car?”

Devin took his
attention away from the dog for the first time and looked back at her. 
“Maybe.”

“I thought most
towns had leash laws,” Roger commented, looking around as if he were looking
for a possible owner.

“He might be a
stray.”  Devin gently applied pressure to the dog’s back and worked his way
down to the back paws. When he reached the injured leg, the animal yelped. 
Cara saw him flinch as well, as though it pained him to cause any further
suffering.

“Not for
nothing, Cara, but if this is a stray, we should probably call the animal
rescue league.  It's their problem, not ours.”

With her
emotions on edge, she glared at Roger.  Yes, he was a very practical person,
but she couldn't believe he'd be so heartless as to pass off an injured animal
without having any feelings.  This was a side of him she'd never seen before. 
Maybe she had and had chosen to ignore it all this time.  It had her wondering
how much of Roger she'd ignored in the eighteen months they'd been together.

Roger's
expression softened, as if he could read her thoughts.  “I know you feel bad,
but we should leave it to the professionals to handle.  It's not our problem.”

Devin looked up
at them.  His jaw was tight and his face drawn.  “That may be true, but I'm
making it mine.”

Careful
wrapping his arms under the dog’s chest and hind leg, he scooped up the dog,
taking care not to injure the other leg any further. 

Cara's breath
caught in her throat when the dog began to whine.  “I can drive you to the
veterinarian, if you want.”

Devin took each
painstaking step in the stand as if he were holding a bomb about to explode. 
“No, that's okay.  I'll take care of him.  You’ve got Roger to take care of.”

An hour later,
Roger was waist deep in an oatmeal bath and Cara sat in a wicker chair on the
back porch reading the morning paper.  As much as she tried, she still couldn't
keep her mind off the dog.  She’d read the same page three times and still had
no idea what the article was about. 

Giving in to
defeat, she tossed the paper on the table in frustration.  Who was she
kidding?  It wasn't just the dog, it was the love and care Devin took in caring
for it that she couldn't forget.