Chapter 8

Marigold woke when she felt Thule's weight settle at her feet on the couch. She rolled over onto her back and pulled the blanket down from her face. Thule was dressed in his suit and tie again, ready for another day of meetings. He smiled at her uncertainly, "Morning."

Marigold stretched as best she could without exposing herself with Thule sitting on the end of her blanket.

"I want to get a look at you," he said. When Marigold hesitated, he added, "to make sure there's no lasting damage from last night. I don't think there is, but it would make me feel better to know for sure."

Marigold nodded and released her grip on the edge of the blanket. Thule pulled it back to her waist, "Anything hurt?"

Marigold considered the question, "I've got a lot of muscle aches in my back, arms, legs, and, for some reason, my feet."

Thule nodded, "Do you have something in that first aid kit you packed for minor burns?"

Marigold sat up a little, examining herself. From the front, she saw only a small reddish spot just below above her collarbone where Maya had initially splashed her with the first candle. She touched it experimentally and found it only mildly sensitive.

"There's a tube labeled 'burn cream' in there," she said. "But, this is pretty minor."

"Still," said Thule. "I would like to treat it. Plus..." he held up his hand, the back of which had an angry red splotch on it.

"How did that happen?" asked Marigold.

"The second candle," said Thule. "When I grabbed it, wax spilled."

Marigold remembered the moment. Thule must have been in remarkable pain, but he'd just stood firm, not pulling away, not letting Maya dump another full candle on her. Marigold felt it was very import to say something at that moment, but she didn't know what. Fortunately, Thule was out of the room at that moment, retrieving the first aid kit.

He came back with the kit a moment later, opened it, found the cream, and dabbed a little on Marigold's hand. Then, he tried awkwardly to spread more on the back of his own hand while holding the tube.

"Here," said Marigold, taking the tube, "let me." She smeared the cream on evenly.

Thule drew the blanket the rest of the way off of her, leaving Marigold naked on the couch. With one hand, he gently spread her legs, looking closely at her inner thighs. His touch was completely clinical, as if he were a doctor.

"Roll over, please," he said. When Marigold had complied, he went on, "It looks like the cane broke the skin on your shoulderblade a little bit. There's also a small bit of bruising. Nothing looks major, though. How's your knee where she hit you?"

"Stiff," admitted Marigold. As Thule applied another cream to her shoulderblade, she was left to wonder if he could possibly be the same man who's hands had trembled with barely-contained passion to touch her over the last two days? His hands now were completely impersonal.

"We need to talk," said Thule. "But, right now, I need breakfast and to get to my meetings. The hotel has a masseur on staff. I can arrange for you to see him when we check out if you like."

Marigold nodded, "All right."

Thule gave her another uncertain smile, "Why don't you go ahead and get in the shower? I'm going to head downstairs shortly. You can meet me in the restaurant."

Marigold frowned, "I already got a shower earlier this morning." She wanted to add, "while you were fucking Maya," but held her tongue.

"Okay," said Thule. "Go and get dressed. We can go down to breakfast together."

Marigold didn't move, "Thule?"

Thule looked down at her, "Yes?"

"What's next for us?"

The question hung in the air for a few seconds before Thule said, "You'd better get dressed while I start to answer that question. That's not going to be a short conversation."

Marigold still didn't move. She just lay there and watched Thule.

"Marigold," he said. "Go get dressed."

"Is that an order?"

Thule paused before answering the question. Marigold held her breath. Finally, he said, "Yes, Little Flower. It is."

Marigold rose from the couch and went into the bedroom without another word.

"Feeling contrite?" Thule asked as he came into the room behind her.

Marigold shook her head, "Not particularly. I just wanted to see if you intended to continue ordering me around."

"At least until I get you home tonight," Thule said. "I'm done punishing you, if that's what you mean."

"Oh," said Marigold, feeling her stomach sink. "I thought you were going to keep punishing me until I went away to Harvard."

Thule shrugged, "I thought I would need to. I was... a lot angrier at you when this started. You're a very different person than you were when this started, Marigold." He took a deep breath, "I don't expect you to thank me for it, but..."

Marigold, who had gotten into her bra and panties, stopped dressing, "Thule, I told you last night how I feel about you. I thought you felt the same. Now, I don't know. Do you... feel the same?"

Thule smiled sadly, "I haven't really let myself think about it, Marigold. There are a lot of things I need to do before the end of summer--things I can't tell you about. This would be a very bad time for me to fall in love."

Marigold lowered her head, ordering herself not to cry, "Oh." Mechanically, she went about the business of getting dressed.

"What about the prom?" she asked quietly.

Thule turned around, taking her hands in his, "Marigold, I would love to take you to the prom. Will you go with me?"

Marigold raised her eyebrow at him, "Are you asking me or ordering me?"

"I'm asking," said Thule.

"Order me," said Marigold. There was a note of pleading in her voice.

Thule shook his head in the negative, "No."

Marigold drew her hands away from him. She wanted so much to say "yes," but the image of him making love to Maya still burned across her corneas. He had betrayed her. After all of his protests of not wanting Maya while Marigold was in earshot, he had taken the first opportunity to betray her, not even waiting until she was out of the suite.

If only he would order her to go, none of it would matter. She could go to the prom with him, continue to sleep with him, do exactly what she wanted. But, he wouldn't give her that. He'd had what he wanted. Now, he was casting her aside.

"I'll have to see what other offers I have first," said Marigold coldly. She saw an initial spasm of anger cross Thule's face when she said it and, for a moment, she felt a glimmer of hope that he would reverse his decision and start ordering her around again.

Instead, he turned his back on her and said quietly, "Why don't you head down to the restaurant and get us a table? I have a couple of phone calls to make."

"Fine," said Marigold, fleeing the room with as much dignity as she could manage

She was still fuming down in the restaurant when Adam approached her table.

"Dining alone?" he asked.

"Yes," hissed Marigold. "I mean... no. That is..."

Adam smiled, "Perhaps a better question would be, 'Can I join you?'"

Marigold smiled. The idea of a conversational buffer between herself and Thule this morning struck her as a good idea, "Sure. Have a seat."

Adam's grin got wider, "Great. I was afraid I was going to have to eat alone. Now, I've got a lovely young woman to keep me company."

Behind him, Thule said, "She is lovely, isn't she?"

Adam tensed as if expecting a confrontation. Thule just walked past him and took the other chair.

"Ah," Adam said, trying to find his smile again. "You must be Marigold's husband."

Marigold's heart sank. How could she have forgotten all of the lies she'd told Adam yesterday? She saw Thule open his mouth to speak and jumped in, "Yes. Adam, this is my husband, Thule. Thule, this is Adam."

Thule turned his back to Adam so that he could give Marigold a quizzical look. Marigold kept her face carefully blank. She said evenly, "Adam is from Australia."

Thule turned back to Adam, "Nice to meet you, Adam from Australia. How do you know my wife?"

"I met her while swimming yesterday. She was nice enough to answer some of my questions."

"Really?" said Thule. "What about?"

Adam seemed surprised by the question, "New York?"

"Ah..." said Thule.

"Adam sells surveillance equipment," interjected Marigold.

Thule paused for a moment, then asked, "Really? Who for?"

"Atech-Terra," said Adam.

Thule raised an eyebrow, "They make some pretty high-end stuff. You selling to the NYPD?"

"I, uh..." said Adam, leaning in. "I can't really talk about who my clients are."

Thule tapped his forehead, "Of course. Of course. Didn't mean to pry."

"You have an interest in surveillance?" Adam asked.

Thule nodded, "I'm sure my wife must have talked about my interest in optics."

"Err," said Adam. "She said you were studying electrical engineering at Harvard."

"MIT," offered Marigold.

Thule nodded, "That's where the money is. But, I'm focusing on surveillance-based electronics, which means a lot of cross-disciplinary study in optics and acoustics."

At that point, Marigold lost the thread of the conversation. All she got out of it was that Thule was a much more facile liar than she was. Of course, she'd already come to suspect that.

After breakfast, Thule said, "Adam, I hope you don't mind if I borrow my wife for a while. We need to check out."

"Of course," said Adam. "It was nice meeting you."

In the elevator, on the way up to their room, Thule asked casually, "So. What the fuck are you up to?"

He hadn't bothered to turn and face Marigold when he said it. Marigold was forced to twist instead. When she did, she realized that Thule had positioned himself in such a way that she had to step back or crane her neck to talk to him.

"What do you care?" she asked. "I think you made it pretty clear that you're done with me. Maybe I'm just evaluating my other options."

"You met him yesterday," said Thule.

It took Marigold a moment to understand what he was getting at. By the time she had, the elevator door had opened and Thule was walking away, forcing Marigold to follow, taking two steps to each of his long strides. Halfway down the hall, he grabbed a luggage cart, trailing it behind him, blocking Marigold from getting close enough to speak. As a result, she wasn't able to speak to him until he was back at the room. When she did, the best she could come up with was, "You never forbade me from talking to other men."

Thule stopped fumbling with his key card, "No. I didn't. I didn't forbid you from fucking other men either, did I?"

Again, Marigold was stunned. And, again Thule took the opportunity to walk away from her, unlocking the door and striding into the suite. She caught up with him in the bedroom.

"I didn't fuck him," said Marigold. "I didn't even kiss him. We just had a drink."

Thule started piling their luggage onto the cart, "How virtuous of you."

"Dammit, Thule," exclaimed Marigold. "Don't be like that. I didn't. I could have. He wanted me. And, you didn't say I couldn't."

Thule didn't answer. He finished piling up their luggage and started pushing the cart, "Get a good look around to make sure you didn't leave anything behind. We're not coming back."

"Dammit, Thule," said Marigold. "Don't shut me out like this. I didn't do anything wrong."

Thule gave her such a glare that Marigold actually took a step backwards. With a violent jerk, he got the cart moving, then he was out the door again.

Marigold stood in the middle of the room, stunned. She wanted to chase after Thule, but whether she would fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness or try to claw his eyes out, she didn't know. Before she could decide, she spotted her physics textbook on the kitchen counter. A moment of panic hit her. If she'd left that here, she would have had to explain it to her parents, who would have told her to call her aunt to get it back. She gave the rooms a thorough search.

Looking under the bed, she came out with a little, black box with wires running off of it. She recognized it from her work at the hospital as a TENS unit--a device used to administer electrical shocks to patients who had heart arrhythmias.

For a moment, she puzzled over where it could have come from. Then, she realized it must have fallen out of Maya's duffel bag during the night.

She shuddered. Electrical shock was high on her list of irrational fears. She'd always treated anything that administered a shock with great respect.

As she tucked it into her pocket, Marigold wondered what else Thule had protected her from last night. In spite of herself, she felt a momentary rush of gratitude, which she clamped down on quickly.

She caught up with Thule at the front desk, but he was checking out. It wasn't until they were down in the parking garage that they were able to speak.

"Your massage is in twenty minutes," said Thule, handing her a receipt. "I'll be back at 2:30. If you're still here, I can give you a ride back to Mannsborough."

"If I'm still here?"

Thule looked at her over the car, "You're obviously mad at me for something. If you're so mad that you'd rather take a bus back to Mannsborough than ride back with me, I'll understand."

"Something?" Marigold asked. "Something? Thule, you fucked Maya last night. I saw you." Her words echoed across the parking garage, but she was too angry to care. "I saw you. After you swore up and down that you didn't want her, that she was 'nothing to you, ' you fucked her."

Thule laughed. Marigold was so angry that her face drained of all blood. How dare he laugh at her for caring who he fucked? He opened the car door, "That's what you're mad about? Marigold, I'm already late for my meeting. I don't have time for this, but I assure you that everything I said last night was true. I'm done with Maya. She is..." He took a deep breath. "I can't talk about this now. I have to get going. We'll talk when I get back." Then, he stepped into the car.

Marigold crouched down so she could talk to him through the window, "Are you so sure I'm going to be here when you get back?"

Thule glared at her, starting the car, "If you want to talk, you'll be here."

Marigold decided to take one more stab at establishing their relationship on terms she could live with.

"You still haven't told me I can't fuck other guys," she pointed at.

Thule put the car into reverse, "You're a big girl, Marigold. Do whatever the hell you want."

-=-

Marigold stalked back up to the lobby in a cold rage. All the fury she thought she should have felt over her treatment at Thule's hand welled up in her until she found herself leaning against the wall, shaking with barely-contained rage.

Seeing Adam step out of the elevator, she fled into the ladies' room. Fortunately, it seemed to be unoccupied. Leaning against the counter with her hands pressed on the edge, she felt the crumpling of paper.

She looked down. Crumpled between her fingers was a yellow slip of paper. She unfolded it.

It read, "Massage, 11:30. $195.00."

Still in a fury, she crumpled it again and threw it towards the trash. It would have gone in, but she felt a sudden pain in her shoulder as she tried to throw. Instead, it bounced off the wall.

"Shit," she muttered, going down on her knees. She retrieved the receipt and uncrumpled it again. Obviously, she needed a massage. She would just try to forget that it was from Thule.

When the masseuse saw the receipt, she smiled, "Ahh. The deluxe treatment. Great. We don't get to do a lot of these."

"You don't?" asked Marigold.

"No," said the masseuse. "You'll love it, though. It's well worth what you spent."

"Actually," said Marigold. "It was a gift."

"Ah," said the masseuse. She smiled broadly, pearly white teeth in sharp contrast to her black skin. "Your boyfriend?"

"I, uh..." said Marigold. "I'm not sure exactly what he is--not my boyfriend exactly."

"Well," said the masseuse. "You may not know what he is, but he certainly seems to think he knows. I can't even get a man to spring for a drink without thinking I owe him something."

Marigold nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry," said the masseuse. "If I talk to much, just tell me to change the subject. I'm Rita, by the way."

Marigold took Rita's proffered hand, "It's all right. I just have a lot of thinking to do."

Rita nodded, "Why don't you get undressed and get under the towel. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Marigold discovered that, despite not looking particularly strong, Rita had incredibly powerful hands. The deluxe treatment apparently involved a lot in the way of unguents and warm, scented oils. It seemed to take a long time before the massage worked its way beyond a light rubbing.

Rita kept a running dialog going, but it was light enough that Marigold was able to keep up her half of the conversation without much thought. It gave her plenty of time to think about what had happened.

What had Thule meant by saying he was really done with Maya? At the time, Marigold had just assumed Thule was lying. But, why would he? He'd never bothered lying to her before, seemed to take pride in the fact that he didn't have to. Did he just mean that he was done with her now that he'd had her one last time? Could Marigold live with that?

At first, she couldn't believe she was even asking herself the question. The idea was absurd. Thule had blackmailed her, taken advantage of her, turned her over to an old enemy, and cheated on her the moment her back was turned.

But, she also couldn't deny that she'd already taken most of that into account and fallen in love with him anyway. With the possible exception of her parents and stepfather, no one had ever treated her as well as Thule had when he wasn't being absolutely awful.

As for giving her over to Maya, Marigold couldn't convince herself that she hadn't deserved it. And, unbelievably, Maya had forgiven her. It was like thinking she'd murdered someone and discovering that it had all been a big misunderstanding and they were alive and well.

All right, Maya wasn't exactly well, but she was alive. And, she had forgiven Marigold. The thought made tears well up in her eyes.

With embarrassment, Marigold realized that she was crying in the middle of a massage. She reached up and wiped her tears away.

"Don't worry about it, honey," said Rita. "Deep massage can bring out a lot of weird emotions. Do you want me to stop for a bit?"

Marigold shook her head, "No. It's amazing."

Rita nodded, "I take good care of you. Don't I?"

The massage went on for a while longer. Then, Rita asked, "Marigold, can I ask you kind of a personal question?"

Marigold nodded, "Go ahead."

"This not-boyfriend of yours, does he hit you?"

"No," said Marigold quickly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," said Rita. "If I weren't massaging you, I would never have noticed. But, you've got a few spots where you're really sensitive and I can't help but notice there are some minor contusions back here."

Marigold laughed a little, "Rita, can you keep a secret?"

Rita shook her head, "Nope. I gossip like you wouldn't believe. Everything that goes in my ear comes right back out my mouth."

Marigold laughed harder, "Well, could you keep one until I'm far enough away that I don't have to hear it?"

Rita laughed, "That I can do."

"It wasn't my not-boyfriend. It was a friend of mine--at least, she used to be a friend of mine. It's... complicated."