PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL
By Eva
Roxton hurried to keep up with his friends and offer some sort of explanation for his part in leading everyone into their latest foray with danger.
As he caught up with Ned and Veronica, he began stammering, "I-I suppose I need to apologize for placing us all in harm's way. There's no explanation other than that she must have cast some kind of spell..."
Veronica interrupted him with a cold stare, "We're not the ones you need to convince." She nodded at the older woman walking a few yards ahead, apparently doing her best to avoid John Roxton. "I suggest you tell Marguerite why you let yourself be manipulated so easily. Spell or not... you had to know how much it would hurt her by leaving with Danielle."
Roxton's eyes clouded over when he remembered the pain he saw in Marguerite's eyes that morning as he entered the elevator with Danielle. He knew in his heart there were no words of apology, no matter how sincere, that could ever erase that memory.
"I think we're finally a safe enough distance from the village to camp for the night," said Challenger, walking just a few feet behind the others. "John, we need to clean those cuts on your face, and that burn on your arm before they become infected. This looks like a good enough place." He started dropping his gear in a small clearing surrounded with trees.
Roxton rushed to Marguerite's side and began helping unload her backpack. "I don't need your help, Roxton," she snapped.
"Marguerite, let me just...."
"No! I'm not listening to any excuses right now." Her voice softened, " I know it was you who saved me and Veronica back there, and believe me, I'm grateful for my life. But as to the other part, please do me a favor and just keep it to yourself."
Before he could respond Marguerite stomped off to look for firewood, leaving behind a very chagrined Roxton.
"Well, I guess I deserve that. Do you feel the same way Challenger?"
Challenger chuckled and said, "No, old boy...I probably would have done the same thing in your place. But the women are going to feel a bit differently. Give her time, she'll come around."
"Yes, but how much groveling will I have to endure until that happens?"
"Let me talk to her. I'll see what I can do."
Challenger slowly walked over to the two women of their small family unit who were busily building a fire for the night.
"Marguerite, don't you think you're being a little hard on Roxton. From what I've observed, I believe he truly is sorry for his...uh...
"Challenger, I know you men always stick together in these sort of things, so I know what you're trying to do. But I'm just not feeling very generous toward Roxton right now."
"Let me tell you a story that happened to me many years ago, long before I met and married my wife. I was engaged to another young woman, someone I was head over heels in love with. We attended a party one night and sometime during the night she disappeared for a while. When I went to look for her, I found her on one of the balconies kissing another man. I became enraged and accused her of cheating on me. She tried to explain but I wouldn't listen to a word she had to say. I left the party alone that night, but not before breaking the engagement and asking for my ring back."
"Several weeks later, the young man that I caught her kissing, admitted to me that he had forced himself on her. She had had no part in the kiss. I just happened in at the wrong time, but I only saw what I wanted. No one was sorrier than I for the false accusations I had made. But by the time I worked up enough nerve to apologize and beg her forgiveness almost a year later, it was too late. She had met someone else and had already accepted his proposal. So you see, my dear, my pride kept me from marrying my first love. Don't hang on to your pride too long, Marguerite. I believe Roxton is truly sorry for his poor judgment."
Challenger's story apparently produced the right effect on Marguerite as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, pulling gently on his goatee. "Thank you George. You always seem to know the right thing to say, don't you?"
Sitting several yards away from the campsite, Ned was clumsily trying to clean Roxton's wounds inflicted by Danielle's zombies when Marguerite approached the two men offering to take over the task.
Ned stood up and nodded his head toward Marguerite as he handed the canteen into her hands. Before he walked away, he gave Roxton's shoulder a man-to-man nudge with his knee, and whispered, "Good luck".
Watching him walk back to the others, Marguerite squinted her eyes at the young journalist before turning her attention to Roxton still seated on the jungle floor below her.
"So, are you ready to listen now?" Roxton asked hesitantly.
"Maybe, and maybe not. Depends on what you have to say," Margurerite replied defiantly as she started dampening her handkerchief with the water from the canteen and dabbed at the cuts on his damaged hands and arms.
Roxton lowered his head, searching for the words to begin with, knowing his forgiveness would depend on saying the right ones from the beginning.
He took a deep breath and began. "Marguerite, I know I hurt you that morning I left with Danielle. I could see it in your eyes and I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."
"Well, that's a start. Not much of one, but a start." Marguerite kept her eyes glued to the responsibility of cleaning Roxton's wounds, mostly out of fear that if she made direct contact with his eyes she would succumb to that puppy dog look he always used when he knew he was wrong.
By this time, she had reached the cuts on his face...'his unbelievably handsome face', she thought. 'Keep your mind on tending to the wounds,' she cautioned herself. 'Don't look directly into his eyes.'
"Marguerite, you were right and I was wrong. Isn't that what you want to hear?" He kept ducking his face trying to meet her eyes.
"Hold still, Roxton. These need to be cleaned or....."
"Your concern touches me, Mar-gritte", he said pronouncing her name in that endearing way that always made her knees buckle.
"Well, don't get overly confident that you're forgiven, John. You've a long way to go yet for that."
Marguerite finished cleaning his wounds in silence.
"There, that will have to do for now. I'll bandage your arm when we get back to the treehouse."
Marguerite started to stand up and Roxton caught both her arms with his hands pulling her back to face him. "Marguerite, don't go yet. I-I feel I need to say more. I don't deserve to be forgiven right away. I know what I did was wrong. My only defense is that she must have cast some kind of spell over me from the first night."
"Oh, she cast a spell over you all right...."
He cupped her chin in his large masculine hand and brought her face upward, forcing her to look him directly in his eyes.
"Let me finish, please. Marguerite, don't you know that's the only reason I would have done what I did. If I hadn't been under some kind of spell, do you honestly believe I would deliberately hurt you?"
Knowing she could avoid them no any longer, Marguerite looked defiantly into his eyes, refusing to give into the tears that threatened to form in her own.
"She told me about the argument you had that day in your room. She told me she knew you were in love with me. She also said you stood up for me and wanted to keep her from making a fool of me. I couldn't believe you were willing, even at that point, to protect me...mostly from myself and my bad judgment."
Realizing one of her secrets had been revealed not only to John but to herself as well, she lost the battle with her emotions as a single tear escaped. John brushed it away with one hand while still holding her face with the other.
"Now I've made you cry. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do, Marguerite. I was a fool. Just tell me what I can do to make up for the past few days."
Marguerite pulled free, trying desperately to push away the vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone, least of all to the man before her.
"It may take a day or so, but I'm sure I can think of something," she said standing up in an attempt to regain her composure.
Following her to the campsite Roxton said, "Maybe I can do your chores at the treehouse for the next month. I know! I could do your laundry."
"Nice try, John. But it's going to take much more than that. Besides you'd enjoy doing my laundry too much," she said stifling the smirk forming on her face as she imagined John sudsing out her lacy underthings.
"Well...there's that sweet smile that I didn't think I would see for a while, all things considered."
"Compliments? Hmmmm....yes that's a better start, Roxton. Maybe a few more days of hearing you say you were wrong and I was right might go a long way toward...."
Roxton interrupted her by putting his arm around her waist and whirling her around to face him. He pulled her to him and hugged her tightly, an embrace she gladly returned. When he finally released her, she said, "What was that for?"
"No real reason....just because," he said softly, looking adoringly into her eyes.
Marguerite smiled while continuing to walk toward the others, satisfied in her heart that Roxton was putty in her hands. 'Well', she thought, '.... at least for the next week or so.'
The End
