Mabel went back up front where Michael stood like an erect statue.
She clapped him on his back with the palm of her hand. “Michael, you're not using very good judgment, are you?” she suggested, and she was probably the only person Michael knew who could talk down to him like that.
“Damn it, Mabel, I knew Caroline would be trouble, but what was I supposed to do?” He ran his fingers across his chin and shook his head glumly, a frown winding tightly on his face. “I swear I've never led her on about how things stand between us.”
“You don't have to convince me of that, but you might need a little help convincing Sweetpea,” Mabel said, glancing behind them to be sure they were still alone. “Everybody in town has been telling you to drop Caroline. She is just not for you, Mikey. She has no class, no style, and when her parents were passing out graciousness and good manners, they skipped Caroline altogether. That one back there, though, little Sweetpea, she is a real lady. She is also a fragile little thing who needs lots of protecting. You sure you're cut out for her kind, Mikey?”
“Damn, Mabel, you're as bad as everybody else in this gossiping town. The girl's been in town one night and everybody has me married to her all ready.”
“Well, I wasn't the one who took her out to the Steak House last night and flaunted my attentions on her like she was the only little filly in the whole world,” Mabel said disdainfully with a smirking grin.
“So, that's the word that's out, huh. I bet all the telephone lines were busy last night. It was probably the latest anyone in this town has stayed up for months. Does everybody think I've been stricken?”
“Well, aren't you?” Mabel retorted with raised brows. “How many other banking customers do you wine and dine and dance until the morning hour?”
“Mabel, can't you help squelch the gossip just a little? The situation is a bit more complicated than what meets the eye.”
Mabel's brows shot up again. “Oh, does that mean she's married?” she implied, quick to jump to the correct conclusion, as was her nature.
“I didn't say that, Mabel, and for God's sake, don't get that one started. If Caroline has her way, my character will be so besmirched I'll never live it down.”
“Forget about Caroline. No one pays her any attention. I think everybody who knows you probably wonder why you have kept things hanging so long between you and Caroline. They all know she is not right for you. That might have something to do with the fact that no one likes her, but everybody loves you, Mikey. You should know that, considering how the whole town stuck behind you when things got out of hand with the deaths of your father and stepmother.”
Michael shook his head and sighed. “Please, Mabel, don't bring that up. That is another story I do not want rehearsed again. Day before yesterday that grapevine was dead from lack of nourishment.
Yesterday and today grapes have been shooting around like bullets.
They're all aimed at me and that innocent girl back there.”
“You're trying to hide too many skeletons in your closet, Mikey.
Let them out, and live a bit more freely.”
“Some things are best left to rest,” he said, and raised his head toward the bathroom door as it opened.
Rochelle's good cry helped a little, although her depression and malaise was not due entirely to Caroline's confrontation. Overdue tears, bottled up and restrained for years, sought release much too easily now that she was no longer under Tobias's emotional suppression. She had learned at a tender age that life was hard, that dreams did not come true just because one wanted them to. Right now, she had no illusions about anything. Her only goal was to stay hidden from Tobias. One day at a time was all she had, and she decided she did not need additional complications in her life. She needed to make a clean break.
Michael walked past Mabel and went to meet Rochelle. He saw signs of crying, and it made him feel lousy. “I'm terribly sorry, Rochelle. I should have explained about Caroline, but considering the brief time we have known each other, I did not think it necessary. What I told you was the truth. I am not attached to her or anyone else.”
Mabel patted Rochelle's shoulder, and went behind her counter.
“Sweetpea, some women are just jealous, other's crazy. Caroline fits the crazy group. Just don't pay her any attention. No one else does.
She's just battling a lost cause.” Without even trying, Mabel had just won a friend.
Warming to Mabel, Rochelle nodded her acknowledgement, unable to conceal the long-suffering look that spelled far greater concerns than Caroline did. Reverting to the poker face she had used with Tobias for years, she forced herself to face the two of them.
Her emotions were so raw lately that it was hard to maintain her expression of indifference. Every minute reminded her that her life was shattered and no firm foundation existed to stabilize it. She was hurting, a different kind of hurt than she had known with Tobias, but emotionally tormenting just the same.
“Were you two having breakfast?” Mabel asked looking at them, taking it upon herself to right a hairy situation. “I saw you pull up and go in. You'd better get back over there or your food will be turned to hog slops.”
Michael gave her a revolting glance from the corner of his eye.
“Thanks, Mabel, I'm sure that bit of knowledge will make breakfast very palatable.”
“You know me, Mikey. I say it like it is.” She chuckled and her large bosom bounced gleefully.
“Mikey?” Rochelle questioned, hoping she did not sound as terrible as she felt.
“Mabel has a pet name for everybody. I guess you noticed yours is Sweetpea?”
“I thought that might be Mabel's pet name for all females.” She was trying hard to be cheerful, even shaping her lips into a partial smile, but the angry girl's face kept flashing before her eyes. The confrontation was embarrassing. There had to be more than Michael was telling her about his relationship with the girl; yet, it really wasn't her business. The two of them were strangers and he was only being nice to her, which was reason enough to keep things light between them.
“You're the only Sweetpea I've run across,” Mabel replied
“Now run along both of you. I have work to do. I cannot stand around here galley-gawking all morning. I don't have the good fortune of being a millionaire or owning my own bank.” She gave Michael a severe glance and a smile, which told him right away that absolutely nothing in this town was sacred or immune to gossip. His threat to deal with anyone who voiced Rochelle's name outside the bank was wasted words.
Michael shot Mabel another revolting look, and guided Rochelle out the door. He was about to lead her across the street to the restaurant when Rochelle touched her hand to his sleeve and stopped.
“Michael, I don't want you to help me anymore.”
Michael glanced sharply at her, expelling a quick breath of air.
“Rochelle, don't make more out of Caroline's behavior than it is.
You and I have made plans and we're going to keep them.”
“I don't want to cause problems for anyone. You say you're not attached, yet, that woman's attitude clearly states otherwise.”
“You're making too much of Caroline's poor manners, Rochelle, and I won't let her foolish scene ruin our day. We're going back over there and have our breakfast like nothing at all has happened, then we're going to go car shopping in Bozeman.”
“Michael, I'm embarrassed to go back. Everyone was staring at me. Just let me go. I can walk back to the motel.”
He put his arm about her waist and gave a little squeeze.
“Honey, they were staring at you, but they were frowning at Caroline. No one thinks badly of you for what she did, and you mustn't let another thought of it worry you.”
Rochelle noticed he called her honey, an endearment on the second day of their having met. It touched a need, gave it sustenance, and she became lost to yet another form of domination.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders like a warrior ready for battle, and that brought a tender smile to Michael's lips, prompting another squeeze of his hand on her waist. She contained a storehouse of pride, backed only by a gentle spirit, giving her poise and graciousness many women lacked.
All the patrons were kind to Rochelle when she and Michael went back into the restaurant. Folks averted their eyes. The waitress came to meet them, ushering Rochelle forward toward the table they previously occupied. “Come on, Sweetie, I'll show you to your table.” Like Mabel, just a few minutes previously, the waitress made a new friend.
“Rochelle, this is Sally,” Michael said. Both women greeted each other cordially before Sally turned away. She came back shortly with steaming cups of coffee.
“Here you are,” Sally said, setting their coffee on the table.
“Since I sold your first breakfast to someone else, your order will be here shortly.”
“Thanks, Sal,” Michael told her before she rushed off to take someone else's order. Then looking at Rochelle, he said, “Are you okay?” He reached his hand across the table and placed it on hers.
She nodded, looking imploringly at him. “Michael, I don't want to be the cause of anyone's unhappiness.”
“And you won't be. Whatever was between Caroline and me is over. Please do not make it your concern. You have enough problems without taking on more.”
“I'm just no longer sure that being with you is a good idea,” she said, recalling how unstable her entire existence was just now. She had no clothing, had no place to stay, except a small motel room, had no transportation, and she lived from day to day with the fear of Tobias discovering her whereabouts. If he ever found her, he would kill her. She thoroughly believed that. Her life was precarious and her future a big question mark. All she could hope for was living one day at a time. Anything beyond that would be an unexpected bonus, just as Michael's presence in her life had been thus far. It was not fair to either of them, however, to nurture an attraction that was destined toward a dead end.
Sally brought their breakfast, and they started eating. Rochelle could not stop thinking about the girl called Caroline. The vehemence of her jealousy was disturbing. Maybe Michael did not think there was anything between them, but the girl was of another mind. Her brash behavior proved that idea, unless, as Mabel said, the girl was a bit crazy.
“How long have you dated Caroline?” she asked without considering it a personal subject. She and Michael had come a long way from yesterday, surpassing the boundaries of unfamiliarity rapidly. She watched Michael butter his toast, his jaw tensing while a little pulse throbbed furiously at his throat.
“Do we really have to discuss this, Rochelle?” he asked. A glacial reserve filtered across his gaze.
“Since the girl's anger is directed at me, I think I would like to know the circumstances surrounding her attack on me,” Rochelle replied in defense.
“There's really nothing to know.”
How could he explain that he took her out to dinner at least once a week, took her to bed more often than that, but had no attachments to her. It sounded too weak even for his ears. Even though he could care less if he never saw Caroline again, he nevertheless, did have an attachment to her by the fact that they copulated as much as two or three times some weeks. Feeling as indifferent as he did toward Caroline, he cursed himself for not breaking it off long ago. Since he had not, he supposed, out of decency, he owed her some sort of explanation.
He also owed one to Rochelle.
Rochelle saw he was evading her question. She remembered how he kissed her only a couple of hours ago; how he touched every part of her body and turned on feelings she thought she was incapable of experiencing. Maybe she should not press him, but somehow she felt their intimacy gave her a right to know what he was reluctant to tell her.
“I'm sorry, Michael. Perhaps I don't have any right to ask you, but more importantly, maybe I don't have the right to be with you either.” Her voice was soft but decisive as if she had just made an important decision.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and the blazing anger in his profile as he glanced out the plate glass window caused Rochelle to recoil in alarm. Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand and sent her a speculative gaze that was utterly unnerving.
“Rochelle, I'm going to answer your question, and then I don't want to discuss Caroline anymore. She and I have seen each other off and on for the past year, and she initiated every date we have ever had. I have never called her, not even once. I do not even know her phone number. I haven't made any pledges or commitments to Caroline, and never intended making any.”
Rochelle became reflective. He might just as easily have said something like, “she baked me a cake, I ate it, and I don't owe her anything.” God, if he could be that cold hearted with Caroline, what was to keep him from acting similarly toward her when it suited him. He was no different from Tobias or any other man. Sex without responsibility seemed to be a macho motto. How belittling, she thought, unconsciously turning up her nose with disdain.
“Do I sense a mood?” he asked, with a slight note of exasperation in his tone.
“You indicated you didn't want to discuss it,” she reported condescendingly.
With a sigh, he said, “What can I say to convince you there is nothing between me and Caroline?”
She was angry now. What kind of fool did he take her to be?
“There's nothing you can say to convince me, Michael. If you've dated the girl for a year, I would say that definitely indicates some sort of attachment.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “So what exactly do you think I should do about it?”
“I'm merely a bank client, a stranger. It's hardly up to me to advise you about your personal exploits.”
He let out another sigh, seeming at a loss to say more.
“Rochelle…” he began in an imploring tone that eroded into a deep study before he continued. “I will talk to her—tomorrow—when I have more time. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Please don't think you have to do anything on my behalf. It's your affair, not mine.” She kept a placid expression on her face.
He sent her a sharp look. “Okay, so maybe it was an affair, of sorts, but it was all one sided. I do not care for Caroline, never have.
I have indicated that thought to her numerous times. I did not pursue her, Rochelle. She continued to pursue me regardless of all the times I tried to let her down gently. If that makes me a heel, then so be it. I said I would talk to her. What more can I say?” he asked with a questioning sweep of his arm.
“More aptly put, what do you plan to say to Caroline?” she mumbled beneath her breath.
Michael did not hear her statement. “If you're finished with breakfast, I think we should go find a car for you.” It was a safe change of subject, and one that relieved the tense atmosphere.
Rochelle knew that she really had no right to offer input into Michael's affair with Caroline, and never would have if the girl had not nearly attacked her. In less than two days, she and Michael were discussing his personal affairs like two disgruntled lovers.
Cars were a much safer subject.