Jack had rented this isolated cabin, two miles in from the interstate on a dirt road, in order to have peace and quiet for his work. He had grown fond of the spot and had been thinking about buying the place when his six month lease was up at the end of December. Of course, that might depend on how things went with Marisa. If they went any further at all.
Marisa was intelligent enough to know that they were at a crossroads; they weren’t kids and the sexual tension between them was becoming unbearable. They were either going to do something about it or go their separate ways. He was alarmed to discover that he found the second possibility almost frightening.
Jack propped his feet up on the porch banister and the glider creaked with the movement. It was amazing how important this woman had become to him in such a short time. He found it difficult to concentrate on anything but his pursuit of her, and he didn’t want to ruin his chances with her by taking the wrong step. He felt as uncertain as a schoolboy, but determined to have her anyway. For the first time in a long while he felt reckless and uncontrolled. If somebody tried to take her away from him now he’d fight for her.
Nobody had better get in his way. He stood purposefully and went back into the house.
* * *
Marisa dressed in a denim skirt and a flowered blouse for her date with Jack the next night. She was putting gold hoops in her ears when Tracy looked through the connecting door and groaned.
“Don’t start,” Marisa said warningly.
“That blouse buttons up to your eyeballs,” Tracy said. “Don’t you have anything with a scoop neck?”
“No.”
“What are you wearing underneath?” Tracy asked.
Marisa threw her a disgusted glance.
“All right, all right. I always get lucky when I’m sporting the most ragged, ridiculous underwear I own. I was just trying to give you the benefit of my experience. It’s best to be prepared,” Tracy said. She disappeared briefly and then returned, proffering a hinged bangle bracelet set with tiny diamond chips.
“Wear this,” she said. “For luck.”
Marisa took the florentined ornament and clasped it around her wrist. “Thank you.”
Tracy sighed. “I wish I were getting ready for a big date. The only men I’ve met down here are the gay doorman and Lasky’s court clerk, who shows me sweet pictures of his grandchildren.”
“Your time will come.”
“Not soon enough for me.”
Marisa picked up her purse.
Tracy gave her a thumbs up signal. “Win one for the gipper,” she said.
Marisa was still smiling as she stepped off the elevator and saw Jack waiting in the lobby. He turned as if he sensed that she had arrived and his eyes met hers across the expanse that separated them. He was wearing a ribbed cotton sweater in a light maize color with tan cord jeans and leather boat shoes. When he moved toward her Marisa felt as if everyone else in the room had disappeared and left them alone together.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Hello.”
“My car is parked in the underground garage,” he said.
The gallery was on the other side of town, in a converted loft building near the developing suburbs. They parked across the street from it and approached the brightly lit exterior hand in hand. Marisa felt Jack hesitate when he saw that several of the militant young Indians who had picketed the courthouse were lounging in the doorway.
“Jack, this was a bad idea,” she said quickly, stopping. “I just didn’t think about it. You shouldn’t be seen with me here. Let’s go.”
“The hell with that,” he replied, his grip on her hand tightening as he tugged her along. “Come on.”
Marisa inched closer to him and kept her eyes fixed on the ground as they approached the door. She felt the scrutiny of the onlookers, and then Jack shoved her behind him abruptly as one of the young men stepped into their path.
“Bluewolf,” the youth said evenly.
“Forest,” Jack replied in the same tone.
“I hope you’re not planning to bring that lady inside,” Jim Forest said, and there was no mistaking his sneering emphasis on the word “lady.”
“Why not?” Jack said flatly. “I thought this gallery was open to the public.”
“She’s not the public. She’s the enemy,” Jim replied.
“Jim, you’re confusing the issue,” Jack said wearily. “Grow up before you open your mouth and make a fool of yourself again. Now let me by.” Jack made as if to pass Jim and the latter shoved him, hard. Jack stumbled and Marisa gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.
“Jack, please,” she begged, desperate to avoid an incident. Why on earth hadn’t she guessed that something like this might happen? Jack had her so befuddled that she wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Get your girlfriend out of here before something unpleasant happens to her,” Jim said in a bullying tone.
“Nothing at all is going to happen to her,” Jack said grimly, recovering his balance and grabbing Jim by the lapels of his jacket.
“Not as long as she has an apple like you running interference for her,” Jim said, struggling in Jack’s grip.
Jack’s fist shot out so quickly that Jim was lying on the ground before Marisa knew what had happened.
“Get him out of here,” Jack said tightly to Jim’s companions, who were hovering uncertainly in the background, awaiting the outcome of the confrontation. They dragged the semiconscious boy to his feet and lugged him around the corner of the building.
“Jack, should we check and make sure he’s all right?” Marisa asked anxiously.
“He’ll survive, if the thickness of his intellect is any indication of the thickness of his skull,” Jack replied, shaking the hand he had just used on Jim. Its knuckles were reddened and already beginning to swell.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Marisa said in dismay.
“Yes, I should. He’s the worst of the bunch. He’s been asking for somebody to take him down for a while. Unless I miss my guess it was his bright idea for Jeff Rivertree to shoot you. Jeff is just the gullible type to be used by a manipulator like Forest.”
“What did he mean by calling you an apple?” Marisa asked.
“Red on the outside, white on the inside,” Jack replied, glancing over at her.
“I see. That was a reference to me then, to your choice of companions.”
“That was a reference to his own idiocy. Nobody has the right to question my commitment to Indian affairs, least of all a layabout like Jim Forest, who hasn’t done anything except run his mouth for the last ten years while I and a lot of other people have been working.” Jack pushed his hair back off his forehead and then peered at Marisa intently. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Of course not, Jack. This is awful. I would never want to be the source of problems for you.”
“You never could be.”
“What do you call what just happened?”
“I call that a juvenile delinquent looking for an excuse to make trouble. The unfortunate thing about any cause, no matter how noble, is that a small lunatic fringe will be attracted to it for all the wrong reasons. Now let’s take a stroll and look at the pictures.”
“You don’t mean you want to go inside after all?” Marisa asked him, aghast.
“I’m not going to let a lout like that drive me away,” he said firmly, taking Marisa’s hand again.
They were the objects of some staring once they walked through the door, but after a while everybody seemed to forget they were there. Jack stayed just long enough to make his point, commenting on paintings and sculpture and woven wall hangings while everything went past Marisa in a blur. She didn’t draw a comfortable breath until they were back out on the street and heading for Jack’s car.
“I’m glad that’s over,” she said as he unlocked her door for her. “If I have any more bright ideas like that one please institutionalize me until I regain my senses.”
Jack walked around and slid onto the seat next to her, then started the car.