Fair 8

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Marron looked again at the fair pictures propped around her morning room. The very memory of that stolen day swamped her with something that was as debilitating as a bad case of flu. She turned to Trunks, the original subject of all those pictures, and knew he was more magnificent in real life.

She asked, "Where did you learn to pick locks?"

"Now don't look at me that way, Marron. I happen to know you can jump cars.

"Who told you?" She was aghast. In high school she'd been in a group that stole a tombstone, and in putting it back, Kagi Kuruma had lost his car keys and smashed a couple of fingers. So he'd taught her, very impatiently, how to rewire the ignition as Mr. Taimatsu's flashlight came closer and closer, sweeping through the trees, across the graveyard. It still gave her nightmares. "No one left in Peach knows I can do that!" Her face went blank with horror. "You know Kagi Kuruma!" She put an appalled hand to her chest. His disruptive influence in Peach had been mercifully brief. "How did you meet him, for Pete's sake?" She thought he was safely in Romania.

"I haven't yet, but I'm looking forward to it." He narrowed his eyes as if in a heads-will-roll manner, but it was to hide his amusement. "Who is Kagi Kuruma?"

"Never mind." She slid a quick look at him and lifted her chin as the color flooded back to her cheeks, but she went back to the original subject. "How did you learn to pick locks?"

"I'll tell you the entire hair-raising story right after I meet Kuruma." Having nicely blocked her, he returned to the living room, then paused to wait for her. She was now frowning and biting her lower lip.

He leaned in the doorway, his hands in his pockets as he watched her. She was still barefooted. He noticed what small pretty feet she had, and her legs were slender and lovely. Her shorts had cuffs, and the pant legs were loose so that her thighs disappeared into them, but there was room for a hand to follow. He shifted, and his eyes lingered before they continued on up her body. Her form was beautiful. Her bottom was femininely rounded, her waist neat and small, her breasts were soft in that knit shirt, and her neck was delicate. Her face was gorgeous. Her mouth...

She turned, caught his expression and her gaze clung to his. He watched as her nipples hardened. Then he went to her to take her into his arms and put one hand to the back of her neck to hold her against his kiss. When he lifted his mouth from hers he said, "There's no way I couldn't make love to you yet again."

With blurred vision and pouting lips she replied slowly, "I don't remember requesting you to do that."

He only laughed, softly, gently, and he hugged her to him in the nicest way.

She said, "Who is cooking that maddening aroma?"

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

"It just so happens, Marron, that I am a superb chef."

"It isn't... hotdogs." She lifted her nose to sniff and identify.

"NO. Sloppy Joes. In the slow cooker. It's been cooking all day, and by now it'll be a delicious, gooey mess. I do hope there's enough for you, too. Nah. I'm just kidding. I've made enough for two for days- waiting for you to show up. So there's plenty."

"You do have hamburger buns?"

"Of course!" He was shocked. "I'm a purist."

Dinner was no problem, but bedtime was.

"You cannot spend the night," she said firmly, as they set about clearing up the kitchen.

He couldn't see why not. "I've been here for darned near a whole week," he complained. "It would be silly for me to move out now. And..." He smiled suddenly. "My car's in the shop." He stopped to an ah-ha manner and challenged her to rebut. "I can't get to a motel."

"You can borrow Emma."

"Why, Marron, you know when single people drive one another's cars it's serious! And anyway, where would I go? There's not a motel around anywhere reasonably close."

"Yes there is. There're the motor cabins at the crossroad."

"Now how could I throw the Yados into a regular tizzy this time of night getting a cabin ready for an actual person? They've lived there contentedly all this time, with those cabins available for a chance wayfarer, and the feeling they're living by the side of the road being a friend to man - safely - and I show up! No warning. They'd probably have a heart attack, and it would ruin their complacent story about how long it's been since anyone stopped. And it's late. That's fifteen miles away. I'd go to sleep at the wheel, I'm so tired. I can't go to old Mrs. Kan for shelter in order to save your already besmirched reputation."

"Besmirched?" She straightened and flared.

Slyly he put in, "Kagi Kuruma."

She blushed horribly.

"Did you serve time for that?" He inquired as if he didn't know all about that hilarious night and what a dreadful time Mr. Taimatsu had delaying so the two could escape. "As I recall, you said you Chestnuts never had any public scandal. Did Papa pay a little hush money somewhere in your career? What in the world have you been up to, Marron?

She straightened bravely and replied. "Since it would be too late to intrude on Mr. and Mrs. Yado, you may stay the night here. You can have Papa's old room."

"I am grateful."

"And you will behave."

He put a hand to his heart and replied gravely, "Like Sir Lancelot, knight of the Round Table."

It wasn't until she was in bed that Marron recalled that Lancelot was the one who sneaked around with Guinevere behind King Arthur's back. Did Trunks remember that? Was he being absolutely shocking in swearing he'd be like Lancelot with her here in her parents' house that very night and come sneaking in just like...

She looked at her bedroom door. It wasn't locked. She got up, started for it, paused, considered, then pulled off her summer cotton nightgown and climbed back into bed under the Paw Prints quilt.

Somehow it wasn't a great thundering surprise when she awakened in the night and found Trunks crawling into her bed and taking her into his arms. However, she professed much astonishment. "Why, Trunks!" She exclaimed creditably. "You promised!"

"I sure did."

"Like a knight of the Round Table!" She went on.

"Right. And it rather surprises me, Marron, to find a woman of your modesty sleeping stark staring naked."

"It's the summer heat." She explained weakly even though it was a cool July night, and she was warm and snug under the Paw Prints quilt.

He understood. "It is very hot in this bed." And he proved it.

The next morning, when Marron wakened to the deliciously earnest caresses, she postponed objecting. After all, they were already there! But after breakfast, with her tummy contented and her sleek body well sated, she said to Trunks. "I will not live with you."

He reached over and tugged gently at her ear. "You are living with me."

With the debate going nicely, she went on a bit more stridently. "I will not live with any man."

"How lonely you have been."

It was true, but she was on a roll. "There are customs, manners and morals. What would the world be without any rules?"

"Let's get married."

"Trunks, we don't know each other well enough to take such a serious step."

"You gave away three of the peacock feathers. Subconsciously, you are ready to marry. Marry me."

"You need to move out and then call on me so we can become acquainted."

"We know each other very, very well." He rose and came to her, picked her up and sat on her vacated chair with her on his lap. He said, "You stole my virtue, and then you abandon me. Men take that sort of conduct seriously."

It is awkward to insist on parting when one is sitting on someone's lap. The effectiveness of the argument suffers. She sighed in defeat and submitted to his kiss.

After a time he said, "I have some calls to make and some people to see. I'll bring home lunch."

He thought of her house as home. She said, "If you're a fortune hunter you'd better know that my income isn't large."

He replied, "Don't worry. I'm self-employed."

"Mowing lawns?" She smiled a little.

"Only ours."

He was closing in on her, maneuvering her. If she didn't take firm steps, she would be eased into marriage with him. He moved her off his lap and got up as he gave her bottom a love pat.

She watched him go into the study, as a man would to work, and she was left with the dishes. She gathered them and took them into the kitchen.

How does one evict such a man? Ordinary people called the police, but a lot of good that would do in Peach. Police Chief Roshi was too old. He wouldn't come over until the aerobics shows were over for the day. Mr. Roshi was eighty but he claimed that age for some years, and Mrs. Yamada was sure that he was over a hundred.

If Mr. Roshi did come over from the boarding house, Marron would have to go out and help him up the stairs. She could just see him staggering as he grasped Trunks' arm and tried to wrest him from the house. He wouldn't be able to budge Trunks. He'd die of apoplexy. She couldn't allow that.

She'd have to be unwelcoming to Trunks and firm about his leaving. She'd have to convince him she wanted him out of her house before nightfall. She would be firm. She would convince him.

She marched into the study, but he was on the phone. As she waited, she was distracted from her resolve by his conversation. He said, "There's a field just beyond the school that would take a reasonable amount of copter traffic. No problem." He smiled at Marron and gave her a nice wink before he said, "Fine, I'll be in touch." Then he hung up the phone and patted his thighs, inviting her to come sit on his lap again!

She decided it was best to be as formal as possible so she began, "Mr. Briefs."

"Uh-oh."

"I want you packed and out of this house this morning! Is that clear?"

He smiled at her.

Since that was all she wanted to say, she brilliantly resisted trying for an agreement from him, and she turned and left the room. She heard him punching the phone buttons, then talking. And she prowled around, trying to think what to do. She was still officially on her two weeks' holiday. Five others were handling all her errands for her. She took another look at those pictures in the morning room and finally changed into a cotton dress that was suitable to wear on the street and went to Paresu's house.

Paresu was the only person in Marron's age and marital bracket left in Peach. And Paresu left something to be desired. For one thing, being Marron's cousin, she felt no shame about saying exactly what she chose. Now she said, "My Kami, I wish that look was on my face."

Marron provided the description. "Anger. Determination."

"No. A more sated look I've never seen."

"He went to bed in Papa's room." That was technically true.

In an insufferable voice Paresu guessed, "And you had a big bad old nightmare and ran to 'Papa'!"

"Paresu, don't be vulgar," she commanded.

"Why not?"

"It makes you sound common."

"I am."

"You're a Chestnut on your mother's side."

Paresu's haughty "Nonsense!" just underlined the fact that she took after her father.

Marron said stiffly, "I'll be on my way."

"I'll come over later. Maybe Trunks will take off his shirt in the heat of the afternoon."

Marron gave her a quelling glance and left. She went all over town, not staying anywhere very long.

Mrs. Shougeki said, "I just wonder what your grandparents would think of you keeping a man in your house. Is he still there? I find your conduct quite in question, Marron, and I've talked to Rev. Empitsu."

Then there were the Shitsumon. "What does he do? Who are his people?" and, "Marron, he's not still in your grandparents' house, is he?"

Of course, no one in Peach held her parents up as examples, for they had been divorced. So most reached back in time to mention gravely how her conduct would shock her grandparents. Several more mentioned Rev. Marka. It was awful.

After the third house, she had tried avoiding seeing anyone, but she couldn't go home until noon. She kept running into people who had no other errand but to accidentally encounter the Chestnut who was allowing a stranger to live in her house in their town. "An unusual thing to happen in Peach," was one censure. She'd retorted to that in temper, "Maybe that's why there's no one left here." Her words shocked all of them and her too.

Noon finally arrived and Marron went home. Trunks was still there. He was in the kitchen, fixing their lunch. She said coldly, "Are you still here? I told you must pack up your things and leave!"

"Do you like mustard on your fries, or would you prefer catsup?"

"Catsup."

"I have a couple of guys coming to town. Would it be all right if they stayed here?"

"Here?" Then she recalled hearing him talk about the field - which she owned - being convenient to the abandoned school. She blanched and an awful feeling swept over her. Her voice quavered, "Are you trafficking in drugs?"

Her voice faded with the appalled idea, and she seemed to wait two hundred years until he replied readily. "Good heavens, no. Where did you get a harebrained idea like that?" He frowned at her.

Then he grinned and put a finger to his lips and pointed out the window. Mrs. Uwasa, who lived on the other side of Marron, was quietly snipping on the dividing hedge. Under the window ledge was considerably lower than any other place. She was eavesdropping as usual. If Marron raised her voice, as she was about to, Mrs. Uwasa would be able to hear her quite clearly. That was her purpose in being there: to hear something.

Trunks intoned plainly, "Your country appreciates what you're doing to help us in this matter. It is patriotic people such as yourself who keep this country strong. And we know this hasn't been easy for you. You are an honorable woman."

"Will I get a medal?"

"I doubt it. This is the kind of thing that goes unheralded. That is a grief to us all."

Marron had put her hands to her mouth and flee before she laughed out loud. But she realized, as she was sitting at lunch, that he probably wasn't going to leave. She said, "Won't you please leave?"

"And disappoint our government?"

She said pensively, "I'll expect the FBI here any time to charge you with impersonating a federal agent. And I'll have a terrible time convincing them I wasn't a part of it all."

"I never claimed to be a government agent. I just said our government would be proud of you. Anyone would be proud of you."

Somehow the subject of his leaving was lost in the speculation on how to trap Mrs. Uwasa into admitting she was a snoop. When Marron once again attempted to broach on the subject of his leaving, he got up, carried his dishes to the sink and said, "I've got to get downtown to meet with Shichou Machi."

"With Shichou?"

"She's the mayor."

"I know. But why Shichou?"

"City planning." Trunks rushed. "I'll tell you about it later." He leaned to give her a quick kiss before he went on out the door.

Why would Trunks Briefs be meeting with Shichou? She remembered Paresu saying Trunks had convinced her to stick around because there were going to be changes in Peach. She sat, frowned at the wall and tried to figure out how many changes could be made to help Peach.

So dinnertime came and Trunks came home just like a husband. "Are they here yet?" He asked as he kissed her with husbandly abstraction.

"There was a call. A male voice, I suppose. The reason I say 'I suppose' is it could have been Mrs. Denwa. On the phone you can't be sure when she calls if it might not be a man."

"Was it Mrs. Denwa?"

"I asked if it was Mrs. Denwa, and he didn't say anything for a while, then he said to tell you 'tomorrow'."

"That will probably be better."

"Trunks, are you going to start some business here in Peach?"

"How did you figure that out?" He was pleased with her.

"I matched up odds and ends and that's all I can think it can be. Are you?"

"I'm investigating the possibilities. Nothing is sure yet."

"When will you know?"

"In a couple of days."

"You plan to stay here?"

"Please."

"Seriously, Trunks, I want you to move out."

He chided her. "How can you want to turn me away? You deliberately ensnared me. You used me. All you wanted was an illicit interlude. You never intended to see me again. How would you feel if I'd done that to you?"

"I'm not this kind of woman," she said rather pitiably, trying to give him a case of full-blown guilt.

"That's a façade." He was stern. "Because, Marron, we know the real you. The chance-taker, the impulsive darer who challenges life." He went to her, took her into his arms and tried to kiss her, but she resisted.

"What are you doing?" She exclaimed.

"I'm not doing anything!" He replied. "I'm showing you what you did to me."

"What?" She was distracted. Then as he kissed her while she pushed against him almost enough to indicate that he should release her but not quite enough to show real intent, she said. "I did not ever do that to you!"

"Well, maybe not exactly that way, because you're shorter than I am. I'm really trying to show you how very personal you were."

"How can you say such a thing? I never laid a hand on you!"

"You did worse than that, Marron. You laid your eyes on me. Your smile. You lured me to you."

"I. I."

"You do have a terrible time with that faulty starter. We need to change your oil," he said as he carried her off up the stairs.

She awakened the next morning and lay content looking at Trunks, who was decidedly at home there in her bed. He sprawled over most of it, as if it was his bed and she was the visitor.

She wondered how she was ever going to summon enough backbone to get him out of her house.

He was trying to do something about Peach's economy. Something big that would entail bringing in helicopter occasionally. If he was trying to do that, she ought to help. And if giving him a place to live in the meantime would help, then as a true citizen of Peach she should do her part.

He was an interesting man, but perhaps he was a business muttonhead. He would need cash. How much could she spare for him? If his venture was successful, great. If it failed, she wouldn't be shocked.

She would have to go down to the bank this morning and discuss this with Mr. Ginkou. No, no discussion. That would take weeks! She would simply tell him what she wanted. He knew her responsibilities and income, and then she would decide. He would be horrified. She was his biggest depositor.

That settled, she lay studying Trunks. He was so peaceful, a little exhausted perhaps. Her eye became soft and her lashes drooped somewhat smugly. She'd wakened him in the night and he had been so touched. She tried to think of another word, one that didn't have a physical connotation. Charmed? Yes. Amused? Yes. Pleased? That too, but his heart had been touched. She smiled at her sleeping, unwelcome guest.

With his eyes still closed and speaking with barely moving lips, he said, "Get up and go down to breakfast, Marron, so it will be safe for me to move and you won't use it as an excuse to pounce on me."

She laughed and pounced and they tussled. She squealed and he hissed a warning. "Mrs. Uwasa!" And she tried to muffle her giggles. haplessly.

She wiggled off the bed and, naked, she ran through the house and down the stairs while growled like a blue-eyed lion. He cornered her and put her down right there on the floor! "I have a splinter!" She frowned at him and rubbed her bottom.

"Let me see."

"No!" She protested, then wriggled free and fled. He was a little slower this time but craftier. He caught her and turned her over his knee, "found" the splinter and pulled it out. But before she could turn over, he'd flicked it away, not realizing - he claimed - that she would want to see it.

He then coaxed her into showering with him, to wash his back. She did, for he assured her she would be safe, but he told her later one never counts seriously on the ramifications used in persuasion.

"You didn't persuade me." She was a stickler.

"I was the victim. It was you who persuaded me."

They argued that in whispers all through breakfast, since Mrs. Uwasa was again trimming the hedge.

What one thing and another they were a little late getting started that day. And Marron was still in her dressing gown when Mrs. Henko Taido came by to call. Hearing Marron in the kitchen, Henko opened the screen door and came on in, as people seemed to feel free to do in Peach.

Henko was almost sixty years old. Her family was all raised and had fled Peach to several separated points across the country, leaving her with nothing on which to concentrate. At the very last minute Marron remembered to steer her away from the morning room and its display of the fair pictures, and into the front parlor.

Henko was the "Christian contingency" of Peach, the representative to their diverse assemblage in the shared church meetings on Sunday. She was unreliable in her opinions in that she could never be outguessed. And she was a stickler for manners. One of her daughters had been Marron's best friend before she'd moved away.

"How is everyone in your family?" Marron babbled, folding her gown closer around her body and tying it more firmly into place.

"Excellent. I also hear your step mama is expecting again."

"Yes, they're quite pleased." Marron was very aware of her own high color and tried to think coolly in order to calm her blush.

At that moment Trunks came down the stairs, and before Marron could do anymore than rise, hold out one delaying hand and put the other to her throat, he walked into the parlor. Henko gasped, for he was barefooted and clad only in a pair of shorts that were riding low on his magnificent body.

Realizing that the lady must now plainly know all, Marron said, "How shocking!"

"Hah!" Said Henko. "How marvelous! I came to scold, bit I believe I understand completely." She turned to Trunks and held out her hand. "I'm Henko Taido. How nice to meet you. I'm so glad Marron found you. She's always been so tiresomely pure."

After Henko strode away, Marron said weakly, "One can never know how she might react. She was capable of calling in the state police. She would call them, of course, instead of Mr. Roshi, for he'd only come during the time there weren't any aerobics shows and I'd have to help him up the front steps."

"Paresu brought Mr. Roshi along late that first day."

"Oh, yes." Marron recalled Paresu mentioning it.

"Henko said she had a lot of political connections. Interesting. My mother moves in those circles too. I believe we can use Henko. She might be just exactly what we need."

"For what?" Marron asked, rather off balance.

"To coordinate the offices."

"Yes, she's certainly the organizer. But we'll have to find someone else to help her or she'll tap me. I already have more than enough to do."

Trunks listened as she explained her ordinary schedule of errands. So it was better than midmorning before Marron managed to dress. She gathered the fair pictures and stacked them in a corner of her room. Then she went to the bank to arrange to give Trunks some financial backing for his project.

She came back home at noon and walked into her house to hear male voices in the study. She went to the open door and Trunks smiled his welcome as he stood and reached out to her. "Honey, come meet our guests."

"Our guests" sounded so committed. She walked forward with some hesitation and examined the two men. One was about Trunks' age and the other was a bit older. Trunks put his arm around her and said, "This is Son Goten."

He paused as she said, "How do you do?" to the younger man with the smiling face.

"And this is Son Gohan." He was a deceptively somber-looking, black haired man. Gohan smiled as he said, "Actually, I'm Mrs. Denwa."

Marron laughed and held her hand to him. "Perhaps you will meet Mrs. Denwa and then you can hear what a deep voice you have."

Trunks told Marron. "Our project looks good. We think it'll work."

Marron hesitated, indicated Gohan and Goten, then asked. "They're involved?"

Trunks replied. "Fully."

"Well." Marron took the plunge. "I should like to help. This is for the project. No strings. Good luck." She handed him her check for 100,000 zenni.

Trunks looked at it so land and so blankly that she said, "It's good."

Trunks gave it to Goten, who reacted similarly, and then Goten passed the check to Gohan. Trunks said, "My kami, Marron, you overwhelm me." She had no idea who he was or the extent of his resources.

Gohan asked blankly, "Doesn't she know?"

Trunks smiled like a Cheshire cat, as he replied softly, "No."

Marron listened and frowned just a little. "This is legit?"

"Ah," said Gohan. "You've found a jewel."

To give full credit, Trunks replied. "It was the jewel."

I noticed that Trunks keeps on appearing with his shirt off in this fic. You must forgive me. I have this weakness for guys with great abs. Who doesn't?

Anyway, here are more "names." kagi - keys kuruma - car taimatsu - torch yado- inn shougeki - shock shitsumon - question uwasa - gossip shichou - mayor machi - city denwa - phone ginkou - bank empitsu- pencil

Due to your demands, I'll keep the same length. But there are only two more chapters left. I have to decide which fic I'll write next. I just had the most wonderful idea this morning ( ! OK, so I'm going back to the beach and swim - I mean think. Thanks for bearing with me. Yoroshiku!