A Reason to Stay (17 page)

I
n the weeks following the incident at the bowling alley, a lot about her marriage began to dawn on Faith.

The realization her husband failed to understand her job and what would be required to succeed was sobering, to say the least. Worse, he questioned her priorities and commitment to family.

Yes, family was important.

While she was very fond of the close-knit Marins, she'd only meant to convey that she simply couldn't afford to place her career on hold every time one of them sneezed. When the time came for her and Geary to have their own children, and that was still years down the road, she'd shift her world to accommodate their newly created family unit. Surely Geary had to know that. Until then, her work was important and there would be times the station must come first.

Even more sobering was acknowledging how she felt about
his
career choice. She wanted to be supportive of his fishing, but truthfully she wasn't all that enamored with the idea their financial security rested in large measure on whether or not the bass were biting on crankbait or woolly buggers, or that the season, time of day, and weather could determine the size of his paycheck.

While she would never admit it out loud, Prince Charming would look far better sitting behind a desk wearing a suit and tie.

Oh yes, she knew how that sounded. At best, she'd been disingenuous. At worst, she was a complete imposter, hiding her true feelings from even herself. But when placed in hot water, feelings come to a boiling point, and he and his family had turned up the heat too far that day. Without meaning to, she'd ended up spouting her true sensibilities.

But she'd never meant to hurt him.

Now she slipped in the back door of the station, hours earlier than her typical Monday mornings.

If her meeting with Clark Ravino went well, everything could change for them financially. But after last night's broadcast she'd seen DeeAnne Roberts exiting Clark's office buttoning her blouse.

If their newly hired news director was one of
those
—the ones who required favors to be considered for promotion—she was sunk before she ever pitched her idea.

Newsroom politics could be grueling, and never more than when a new person with power was dropped into the mix and everyone at the station scrambled to gain position.

There was a much-talked-about anecdote of a crime reporter in California who tried to impress his new station owners by paying desperate street kids to commit crimes, allowing him to scoop every other reporter in his market.

Faith was not willing to employ any outrageous tactics. She'd simply be the smartest, most hardworking anchor and would deliver top-rate stories that would attract viewers.

She kept those ideals foremost in her mind as she rapped on Clark's door frame.

He looked up. “Hey, Faith. Come on in.”

Over the next hour, the station's news director sat across from her with his elbows on the desk, listening with rapt attention as she explained how she'd driven out to River Oaks and the idea she'd
stumbled on. “This story has everything, Clark. Highlighting an issue about young women and what they believe about the need for a good education, and how that plays into getting ahead in life, will not only prick society's sensibilities but will also resonate with those watching for the human interest appeal. I mean, if the attitude I intend to expose gains traction among young women, we might as well go back to the sixties.”

He stood and came around the desk. “I absolutely agree. You've hit the jackpot. Something told me I could count on you, Faith. You've got what it takes to go far. Not only the drive but an intuition few exhibit in this business.”

Faith couldn't wait to share her ecstatic news. In fact, something this big deserved a celebration. She could use this opportunity to mend things with Geary, maybe dial back the chill that had descended over their relationship.

Normally, she'd prefer to commemorate an achievement by going out to dinner at an exclusive restaurant. Instead she'd cook. He'd like that.

On the way home, she stopped at H-E-B and picked up steaks. Even though the price was exorbitant, she splurged and bought top sirloin. She also picked out two large Idaho baking potatoes and wheeled the grocery cart to the dairy aisle for real butter and sour cream.

Geary said he loved his mother's home cooking. Well, she'd blow him away tonight. And she'd dress really cute, maybe wear that pink blouse he liked.

Before heading for the checkout she even splurged on a bottle of Napa Valley cabernet. They only had wine on select occasions, but tonight was special. This proved she'd been right to make her work a priority for now.

Geary constantly talked about what might be possible for him on the bass champ circuit. Likewise, this opportunity would open doors for her, providing potential to move up—maybe even to
weeknight anchor. Beyond that, she could go national. If Katie Couric started at a local station and made it to the top, why couldn't she?

She arrived home before Geary. After unpacking the groceries, Faith marinated the steaks using a recipe she found on the Food Channel website. She scrubbed the potatoes and wrapped them in aluminum foil, then tried her best to duplicate a salad she'd found on Pinterest, one with arugula lettuce topped with chèvre and blackberries. She'd decided to skip trying to make the dressing and had bought a bottle of vinaigrette that cost nearly six dollars.

For dessert, she spooned store-bought panna cotta into little bowls and drizzled honey over top. Smiling, she scooped a sample into her mouth with her finger, then garnished the desserts with mint and placed them in the refrigerator.

The clock on the dining room wall showed nearly five o'clock. She had time for a quick shower before Geary was due home.

Faith was drying off when she heard the front door close, signaling her husband had arrived. She quickly dressed, then spritzed her favorite cologne, Romance by Ralph Lauren, across her décolleté using the bottle Geary had bought for her birthday.

A thrill of anticipation fluttered through her tummy. While his mother could put a spread of food on a table that would rival Paula Deen's, she hoped to prove she could hold her own, even if on this rare occasion. Geary would be impressed.

She headed down the hallway lined with his family photos. As she passed by, it dawned on her she'd never added their wedding portrait to that wall, and she made a mental promise to remedy that.

“Hey, honey.” She entered the living room and leaned to accept his kiss on her cheek. “I hope you're hungry because I cooked up a little something special.”

He frowned. “Uh, didn't you get my text?”

“What text?”

“Mom fried up a big batch of catfish to take over to Dilly's.
I ate some before I came home.” Seeing the look on her face, he repeated, “I sent you a text.”

She turned away to hide her brittle reaction. Of course he'd eaten at his mother's.

Faith grabbed the towel and wiped her hands, then let it drop to the counter. She forced a smile. “Oh well—I guess we can eat the steak tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, about that—I'm heading over to Toledo Bend in the morning. One of the finalists came down with a stomach bug, opening up a spot in the Big Bass Splash tournament. I should be home late tomorrow night.”

She swallowed her growing irritation. “That's great, honey. You've been wanting to get some more points.” The Bassmaster circuit qualification process was based on a cumulative score, and Geary was always looking for opportunities to advance his.

Her husband moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “Oh, Faith. Looks like you went to a lot of effort.” He reached inside and pulled a piece of white cheese off the salad. “What's this?”

She told him it was chèvre—a goat cheese with a mild, sweet flavor. He popped it in his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “From goats, huh?” He reached back in and picked nearly all the berries off the plates. “I love blackberries. Never seen them on a salad though.”

He tossed the dark purple berries inside his mouth, then folded the towel she'd left crumpled on the counter and placed it neatly next to the sink.

Determined to hide her disappointment, she reached around him and put the butter and sour cream back in the refrigerator. “Well, I guess we can still eat dessert.” She reached for the panna cotta. “I have news.”

He pulled off his cap and placed it on a barstool, then slid into a chair at the small dining table. “You had that meeting, right?”

“Yes, with Clark Ravino, our newly hired news director.” Give her husband two points for remembering. “He really liked my idea for the River Oaks story.”

She placed the little dishes of panna cotta on the table.

His eyebrows lifted as he grabbed his spoon.

“Panna cotta, with honey,” she said before he could ask.

Geary nodded and scooped up a bite and placed it in his mouth. “Hmm—that's interesting.” He looked at her then, with those blue eyes. “Look, I'm sorry about dinner. Really, I am.”

She shrugged. “No, it's fine,” she said, amazed she could so easily lie after her earlier epiphany. Of course, she'd come from a family of liars.

Geary's bunch, on the other hand, gave new meaning to the word
enmeshed
. Add the church “family” to the mix, and she could easily suffocate in the crush of familial relationships.

With renewed determination, she told Geary all about how she'd pitched her idea, how Clark had reacted even better than she'd hoped. “I've really impressed him,” she confided. “I mean, it really feels good to have someone of his stature recognize my journalistic abilities and give me praise.”

“That's good to hear.” Geary finished his dessert in four bites and placed his spoon back on the table. “By the way, I hope it doesn't wreck our budget, but I bought a case of Swamp Donkeys off Eddie Gentry.”

Faith scowled. “A case of what?” She picked up their empty bowls and moved to the sink.

“Swamp Donkeys. Bass lures fashioned like a hollow-bodied frog. They stopped making them a few years ago but Eddie found some on eBay. He took pity when I begged and sold me some.”

She'd hoped he would share her enthusiasm over her coup at work. Apparently, he just didn't understand what she'd accomplished and what could be ahead for them financially if this story idea panned out.

Here was where she had a choice. She could gently remind him he was being insensitive and risk the night going sour, or she could let it go. Frankly, she hated fighting and just wasn't up to another night of angry feelings.

So she forced a smile, determined to enjoy the evening and not get out of sorts.

He seemed to have the same idea as well. The enjoying part, anyway.

While she was cleaning up, he grabbed her around the waist, picked her up, and carried her to the sofa. She giggled when, like a frat boy, he tossed her into the cushions and made a production of unbuttoning his shirt.

With a wide grin, he steadied himself with one hand on the wall while the other pulled off his boots. “I'm Mr. Big-Shot News Director, and frankly, I'm really impressed with my cute reporter,” he teased.

Relieved the tension between them seemed to have finally broken, she laughed. Taking his cue, she reached for him. “Take me fishing, Mr. Swamp Donkey. Take me now.”

He rubbed his palms together and scurried to the window to close the drapes, then hurried back to join her on the sofa.

Geary gazed down at her, the sudden widening of his eyes adding to her anticipation. Their teasing quickly turned more serious. Suddenly, she didn't care that he'd been insensitive, or that she'd have to throw two expensive sirloins into the freezer. Weeks had passed since they'd been together, and she was hungry for her husband's affection.

He rubbed her chin with his thumb.

Faith stilled, savoring his touch. The roughness of his thumb sent tingles down her spine, all the way to her toes.

He leaned and kissed her. She felt the familiar warmth of his stomach, his muscled chest against her bare skin. Shoulders broad and firm.

“Faith,” he whispered into her hair.

He wanted her, and she wanted him. She ached to tell him so.

He pressed his mouth against her lips a second time, planting a kiss brazen with possibility. His fingers traveled along her quivering chin, making a bold path lower—

Suddenly, the front door opened.

“Son?” His mother froze. “Oh my—oh dear, I'm sorry.” Veta quickly turned away. She shielded her eyes with her hand while both of them scrambled to cover up.

“Mom—for goodness' sake, what do you need?”

Faith grabbed Geary's shirt he'd tossed on the arm of the sofa and covered herself. “Uh, excuse me.” She jumped from the sofa and scrambled down the hall.

In the bedroom, she quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and slid a T-shirt over her head, then moved into the bathroom, where she yanked her hair into a ponytail, fastening it with a band she found in the drawer.

She did all this while rehearsing in her mind what had just happened. Had his mother really just walked in without knocking? Had her mother-in-law seen them on the sofa in a—well, in a compromising position?

The thought angered her. She liked Veta, really she did. But this was where she drew the line.

She told Geary that when he finally pushed the bedroom door open and timidly peered inside. “Faith?”

“Is your mother gone?” she asked, her tone clearly communicating she was miffed.

He dropped onto the bed, sitting next to her. “That was my fault,” he said.

She whipped her head to face him. “Your fault? How was the fact that your mother barged into our house without knocking your fault?”

His head lowered. His thumbs nervously played against one other. “I—I didn't lock the front door.”