by Kim Cox

I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes for mine and Tyler’s third anniversary breakfast. How wonderful our lives were now. The love had always been there, even since the first day we met. But not having money made everything harder. Tyler majored in accounting at the University of Texas, but we decided to live in Houma, Louisiana, my home town. The bayou’s few accounting jobs were taken without any hope one would be open in the future. Tyler took a job in the oil fields until . . .

Until he found his God-given talent--chain saw art. I waited tables in a local diner. While still working in the oil fields, Tyler carved bears, eagles, mushrooms and Indians on the side. He used different types of trees that had fallen or were blown over by the many coastal storms. Other trees were unwanted by their owners, and Tyler volunteered to carry them off for free and sometimes cut them down, too.

"Honey!" I called to him. When he didn’t answered, I tapped on the bedroom door. "Cheri, are you up?"

"Huh?" he asked with a sleep-heavy voice.

"Breakfast is almost ready. Get up, or you’ll be late opening the gallery."

"Coming," he moaned.

I walked back to the kitchen to finish breakfast, letting my mind drift even more.

Not long ago, we opened an art gallery, and it did exceptionally well. People came from everywhere just to watch Tyler carve. The more he worked at his talent, the better and more professional his work became. We bought our own home and we even had a little extra left over these days. Nothing could touch us now.

Once the gallery was doing well, Tyler talked me into taking creative writing courses through the mail. Since the bayou didn't have a college, and we didn't want to be away from each other for the time it would take to drive to New Orleans or Baton Rouge, this was the ticket to my dreams--to become a mystery writer.

Tyler groggily pulled his chair out from the table, breaking into my thoughts. Pushing his hand through his dark curls, he asked, "What’s for breakfast?"

"Pancakes, eggs, bacon, grits, homemade biscuits and gravy."

His eyes became wide. "A feast?"

"Anything for you, honey."

He moved his napkin, finding his anniversary card beneath it. "Oh no, I forgot something." He rushed from the table and into the garage. I waited but didn’t hear him come out.

A few minutes later, Tyler came back into the kitchen through the garage door and sat down to eat his breakfast.

"What was that all about?" I asked, pouring coffee into his ironstone mug.

"Oh nothing. I forgot to check the battery on the car. It registered a little low last night when I drove home."

"And?"

"Oh, it’s fine now. I’ll have it checked when I leave work today."

I can’t believe he forgot our anniversary, and now he’s acting as if nothing’s wrong. Tyler gulped his food down eagerly and then showered for work.

I was almost in tears. Not even a thank you for breakfast had he offered me. I washed the dishes as Tyler ran in, grabbed me around the waist, kissed my cheek and rushed out the door before I could chastise him.

He turned before exiting and said, "Oh yeah, thanks for the great breakfast and card. Happy anniversary, darling."

Pulling the dish cloth full of water and suds out of the sink, I threw it at him. But it hit the already closed door. I growled, "Arrrgggghhh."

After the kitchen was sparkling clean, I went to tidy up the bathroom. Happy Anniversary was drawn on the mirror with an old orange shade of lipstick I never wore anymore, and below that was an arrow. I followed it curious as to what my dear husband had under his sleeve. On the counter set three small boxes wrapped with fancy jewelry store paper. When had he gone into the city? I couldn’t recall him being gone from the bayou long enough.

Timing it right, I knew Tyler would be opening the gallery door right about the time he hears the phone ringing.

Before he could say hello, I said in my softest, sexiest voice, "You lovely man."

"What, who is this?" he asked, kidding me.

"You know darn well who this is, and I love you."

"I love you, too. So you finally found my surprise, did you?"

"Yes, and the diamond necklace and earrings are beautiful. Happy three years to you."

"And happy anniversary to you, too, darling."

"I'll be down to help you in a few minutes."

"You don't have to. It's the slow season. You know the tourist don’t start coming for another month and I--"

"But, if I'm there, you can get some carving done."

"Nope, I'm taking the day off from that."

"Tyler Anderson, if I didn't know you love me, I’d think you didn't want me with you today."

"That's not it. I thought you wanted to work on that book you've been meaning to start."

"I have an ulterior motive."

"You do, and what may I ask it that?"

"If I help you, and it's slow like you said; then, we can close up early and go to dinner tonight.

"Come on down, then. That's a wonderful idea. Sounds like you've been reading romance books instead of mysteries."

Tyler surprised me by taking me dancing as well as to dinner. I absolutely reveled in all the attention he gave me. After returning home, we made love well into the early morning hours. Before going to sleep, I had something to confess--a problem I’d kept secret.

After telling him, Tyler held me close, running his hand along my arm, saying nothing. The urge for me to explain my secrecy overcame me.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I didn't want to spoil our anniversary. Neither could I keep it concealed from you any longer."

"Carina, you should’ve told me the moment it happened."

"I wanted to, but—"

"No buts. Next time that idiot man calls you, you tell me right away."

"I will." Why hadn’t I told him? Fear of his anger, that’s why. Javier Fortier was one man Tyler was insanely jealous of, and a subject that wasn’t easily broached to him.

"Why couldn't Javier have stayed in New Orleans?" Tyler asked, rolling over onto his back. He glared at the ceiling. "He has to come back here. He thinks he can just take you away after he abandoned you. And after he ran off with that woman just because she was rich. He didn't even have the courtesy to break it off like a decent man. He just ran off without a work to you. The nerve--"

"Please, Cheri, it's okay. I told him I wasn't interested."

Tyler turned back onto his side, facing me and cupping my chin in his hand. "Are you sure?" His reaction surprised me. He’d always known how much I loved him.

"Of course I’m sure. How can you even suggest--"

"I mean you did love him once, are you sure you're not still interested? He's a rich widower now. I’ll never be able to give you all he can."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, snuggling my nose behind his ear. "How can you even ask such a question? You know how much I love you, and the life we have."

"What's he doing back here anyway?"

"He said his roots are here. Plus his oil wells and almost all the rental shacks belong to him now."

"Bragging, was he?"

"Yes. I thought I’d gag at the way he carried on about his property, boasting with every breath he took. He thought he would give me another chance at him before some other lucky lady took him away."

"If we're lucky, she will. Maybe she'll take him into the swamps and drown him."

"Tyler!"

"Well." He laughed out loud. It did me good to see a smile back on his face.

"You should be ashamed," I chastised him. I tried to sound stern, but I knew my smiling eyes belied the strength of my words.

"Maybe I should, but I'm not." Tyler kissed me, draped his arm across my waist and we fell asleep entangled in each other.

One short month later, I received a phone call. "Mrs. Anderson, this is Susie from First Systems Bank."

"Yeah, Susie. What can I do for you?" I pictured the sassy little brunette I’d done business with a number of times.

"I don’t understand it, but your account shows a number of withdrawals, leaving no money in your account. I have two thousand dollars worth of overdrawn checks from the gallery sitting here on my desk."

"Let me get my checkbook, Susie." There was, I assumed, a logical error on the bank’s end. I couldn’t have made that large of a mistake. "I’m back. My checkbook shows I have three thousand left."

"I’m sorry, but I’ve gone over it and over it. Five thousand in cash has been withdrawn over the last two weeks."

"Who withdrew it?"

"Tyler."

"Can you get me a copy of all the transactions over the last three weeks, Susie?"

"Yes."

"Oh, and can you hold those overdrawn checks for a few more days until I can figure all this out?" Tucking an errant stand of hair behind my ear, I awaited her reply with baited breath.

"I’ll try to hold them two days, but that’s all I can do. But I can’t promise you anything."

"Thanks, Susie," I said, expelling the ominous amount of air I held in my chest. "When will it be ready for me to pick up?"

"Tomorrow morning. Will that be soon enough?"

"Yes. And thanks again."

Sure the bank had made a mistake, I tried not to worry. Undoubtedly, one of Tyler’s deposits hadn’t been accounted for. Finding the mistake should be easy. The phone rang again.

"Carina?"

"Yes, it’s me, Christy. What can I do for you?"

"I went by the gallery every day this week to pick up that angel Tyler carved for me, but I can’t seem to catch him there. Can you tell him I’ll be there tomorrow evening around six."

"Yes. Christy, how late have you been going by? Tyler stays open until seven every night."

"I’ve been going around five or six."

"Hmmm." Tyler didn’t tell me he was closing early. "I’ll tell him, Christy. Six tomorrow evening, right?"

"That’s right. Thanks, Carina. I gotta have it before Sunday. I ordered it for mom’s birthday."

The front door slammed, signaling Tyler’s arrival and I met him when he walked into the living room. "Where have you been?"

"I went for a game of pool with Dan. What’s wrong?" Perspiration beaded his brow. Was it the heat, or was Tyler hiding something?

"Why are you closing early?"

"It was slow today, so I didn’t see any harm."

With hands riding high on my hips, I asked, "Has it been slow every day this week?"

"As a matter of fact, it has. I’m tired, Carina, and I don’t want to fight. What’s this about?"

"Christy has been trying to pick up her order every day this week, but you’ve been closed. She’ll be by tomorrow evening at six. Be there, because Sunday’s her mother’s birthday and it’s a present for her."

"I forgot. What did she order?"

"The angel."

"Oh yeah. Okay, I’ll be there." Tyler left the room. It bothered me that his eyes didn’t meet mine once during our conversation. I followed him to the bedroom.

Tyler didn’t even see me following him. With one hand on the frame, I clutched the door to keep him from shutting it in my face. "What’s wrong?" he asked when the door wouldn’t close.

"I also got a call from the bank. Our account is overdrawn two thousand dollars."

"What?"

"That’s what Susie said."

"The bank’s mistaken."

"That’s what I thought. Susie said she’ll make us a copy of the last three weeks’ transactions. I’ll pick it up in the morning."

"I’ll do it," he said too quickly.

"That’s okay. I can do it."

"Nonsense. Why should you have to go when I can do it on my way to the gallery?" He wrapped his arms around my waist, planting a kiss on my lips. "I don’t want anything to hinder you from finishing that book. You told the publisher you’d mail it to her by this Monday. That only gives you two more days."

His hands trembled and felt sweaty on my back. I wondered why, but I didn’t push the issue. I wanted to trust him. I always had in the past. "Okay, but don’t forget." Tyler would surely tell me if something was amiss, I kept telling myself.

"I won’t."

"You want me to check the copy against our records?"

"No, I’ll do that while I wait for Christy to pick up the angel. Now, go finish that book."

"Okay," I said, kissing him again.

Pecking on the computer, I wondered if everything was as right as Tyler pretended it was. How could the bank make such a mistake? If the bank was right, we’d just take the money from our savings to cover the checks.

Two days later, Christy called again. "I tried to call Tyler, but he’s not at the store. Is he there?"

"No. Actually, he’s running a little late tonight. What’s the problem, Christy? Didn’t you get the angel Saturday night?"

"Yes, and I’m very disappointed."

"Why?"

"It isn’t anything like what I requested," Christy complained. It was still soaked with oil as though Tyler had just finished up when I walked in. He didn’t even warn me and rushed me out like the place was on fire. The new white suit I wore to pick it up is ruined now."

"I’m so sorry, Christy. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. I’ll have Tyler call you. And I’m sure he’ll pay for the white suit."

"I expect him to make mama another angel like the one I requested, take this one back and pay for my suit."

"I’m sure he will, Christy."

No sooner had I hung up when Susie called me from her home. "Carina, I’m sorry to call you so late, but I haven’t been able to reach you all day."

"That’s okay, Susie. I was shut up in my office all day. What’s wrong now?"

"I can’t wait any longer. I’ve got to send those checks back for insufficient funds."

"What? I thought Tyler took care of that."

"He picked up the copies I made, but I haven’t heard anything from him since."

"I’ll find out what’s going on and call you in the morning." The whole situation became more complex by the minute. Tyler’s irresponsible attitude made no sense whatsoever.

"Okay but that’s as long as I can hold them."

I paced the plush white carpet of our bedroom. The beside clock read, ten o’clock. Where was Tyler? I called the gallery to make sure he’d left, and then I called his favorite pool hall. No one knew where he was.

Deciding to look for him, I drove around town, searching for his truck but I couldn’t find him anywhere. Tyler’s best friend, Dan, came walking out of Tom’s Diner.

"Dan, have you seen Tyler, tonight?"

"No. I haven’t seen Tyler in weeks." That’s three lies, I thought as I tallied them up on my fingers one by one.

Dan started to walk away but came back to my car. It was evident something serious plagued his mind. "Carina, I’m worried about Tyler. He’s acting strange. Every time I go by the shop after work, he’s closed."

"You mean at three-thirty in the afternoon?"

"Yes. So I called him from work the other morning. I asked him if he wanted to shoot pool and he said business wasn’t allowing him much time. And that he had to stay late at the store every night. I thought he was just ticked-off at me."

"I’m sure--"

"Especially since no one in town can seem to catch him at the store these days. Then I heard the rumors."

"What rumors?"

"About that new gambling place."

"What place?"

"I was invited there the other night and I went to see what was going on. Tyler was there and losing big time. He didn’t even know who I was when I walked up beside him."

"How much was he losing, Dan?" I asked, my heart weighing heavy with dread.

Dan walked away from the car, pushed his hand through his hair, looking as if he were thinking about how much he should say.

"Please, Dan. You’ll be doing Tyler a favor. He’s in deep trouble and I can’t help him until I know how deep."

"Five thousand, and I heard he’d been doing this for weeks."

"Where’s this place?"

"Down in the woods near Roger’s oil field."

"Thanks, Dan. I owe you."

Turning onto the dirt road beside Roger’s, I followed it to the end. Soon, loud music and bright lights met me. I walked into the building. Men were everywhere, sitting around tables and playing poker. The cigarette and cigar smoke stifled me. I saw Tyler near the back of the room, and I walked up behind him. He sat alone, his head laying across his arms. At first I thought he was sleeping until I saw his body tremble.

I touched his shoulder. "Cheri?"

His head jerked up. That’s when I saw the dampness beneath his eyes. "What have you done?"

"I thought I could make it up tonight. I felt lucky. I should’ve known better."

Javier Fortier walked up to us. "Tyler, Tyler. You are no good for my Carina." The smug look in his smiling black eyes made me sick.

"Leave us alone. We’re leaving," I said, staring him in the eye.

"Why do you waste your time on this," he pointed at Tyler, "this good for nothing--" Then his hand clasped the lapel of his jacket in a motion of superiority.

"Shut up." Tyler stood, glaring at him and ready to fight. "It was you all the time, wasn’t it?"

Javier dropped his hands to his sides. "Yes, I’m happy to say. I take all the credit for showing your wife who you really are. A no good, weak gambler, who doesn’t know when to quit. Now, I have all your money." He stood tall, his beady eyes bulging. Dark hair waved backward from his forehead.

Tyler’s face turned red with anger. Touching his arm, I said, "Let’s leave, Cheri. He can’t hurt us any more."

Javier ran in front of us, cutting off our path to the door. "Did you tell your wife all of your problems? It was so easy to find out about your grandfather throwing away the family fortune in Las Vegas fifty years ago. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, eh, Tyler?"

Tyler balled his fist, but I wrapped my hand around his, stopping him from moving forward.

"You gambled heavily on high school ball games, getting yourself deeper and deeper into debt until your father bailed you out. He made you swear never to gamble again. How many other such promises have you broken to my sweet Carina?"

When I removed my hand from his, Tyler smashed his fist against Javier’s jaw, spreading him out on the floor. Then I led him out the front door, but Javier’s goons stopped us. One knocked Tyler onto the ground. Then they held him up while Javier punched him in the gut. Like a wild animal, I jumped on his back, pounding the back of his head with my fists and scratching the sides of his face with my fingernails. The goons had to let Tyler go to save their boss from being beaten to death.

While they saw to Javier’s cuts, I helped Tyler limp to my car. Javier yelled to us, "You will pay for this, monsieur."

The next day, we went over our bank records together. We were bankrupt, and forced to sell everything--the business and our beautiful home, everything we’d worked so hard for.

The closeness we had shared crumbled around us as Tyler became depressed with guilt. Before we were soul mates, almost reading each other’s minds. It astonished me that I hadn’t even suspected Tyler was gambling. If Tyler had known Javier Fortier owned the secluded poker house, he’d never step foot in the place.

Javier’s boasting reached me a few days later--about how the men he’d hired pretended to be art dealers to befriend Tyler. One night before Tyler's birthday these men took him to Javier's club as a present. They paid for everything. Tyler told me he won more than a thousand dollars that first night.

Since I knew of his gambling problems, he didn’t tell me of his winnings. From then on, every night when I didn't stay at the shop with him, he closed the gallery early and tested his luck. For well over a week, every time he won from five hundred to nine hundred dollars, but never as much as the first night and that was his goal—to win at least a thousand each time.

Deep down I knew what Javier wanted. Me. He thought once I lost everything, and found out about Tyler’s weakness, I’d leave him. He underestimated my love for my husband. Javier was conceited enough to believe I never stopped loving him.

Two days after finding Tyler gambling, I took him to get help, spending our last dollar for his treatment. Since my grandmere had died the year before, and there wasn't any family left for me to rely on, I lived with friends and worked at

Tom’s Diner. Just before Tyler returned home, I found a small shack to rent, owned by an elderly couple.

After three months at the clinic, the time came for Tyler’s release. I drove up the wide drive of the large stone building in Baton Rouge where Tyler received treatment. On the drive back to Houma, the air seemed thick, and conversation strained. I spoke first, "Cheri, are you feeling well?"

"Yes. Are you sure you still love me?" She heard the hoarseness in his voice.

"Oui, more than ever." Glancing over at him, I tried to put on a happy face as my grandpere used to call it.

"After what I put you through, I wouldn't blame you if you never--"

"Stop it! Don't even think it." Fresh tears dripped down my face. "You only proved you’re human, and you can make a mistake like anybody else."

"But, I lost everything, your home, the business-- "

"Cheri, was it not your home, your business also?"

"Yes, but it’s my fault we lost it, too." He hung his head low.

"No, we’re as one. I should’ve been there for you." Changing the subject, I said in a light, happy tone, "I found us a house near the swamp."

"How does it look?" Tyler asked uninterested.

"Nothing elaborate, just a small house."

When we drove into the dirt front yard, Tyler took one look at the plain old house with broken shutters. "It's nothing but a shack. What have I done to us?" His hands flew up to cover his eyes.

It broke my heart to see him so depressed, but his doctors had warned me it could get worse as the reality of what his gambling did to our lives hit him. "Cheri, I love this quaint little house. It reminds me of our first home, remember?"

"You're right. It does resemble it, but that doesn't change why we have to live like this."

"No, it doesn't, but if it hadn't been for your gift, we would’ve never owned anything. You still have that gift."

"I don't know. I’ll have to find a job to pay the bills. Working at the oil fields and carving may be too much. I’m older now. Too old to have to start over."

"Only three years, my love. You built your business before. You can do it again, I'm sure."

But Tyler couldn't or wouldn't carve, claiming he was too tired after working all day. The landlord doubling our rent didn’t help. Tyler had to take a second job. He’d talked me into quitting my job when he came home from the clinic, so I offered to go back to work. Tyler wouldn't hear of it. He wanted me to keep writing, even though my book hadn’t sold yet.

"I can still write, just not as often. I hate seeing you-- "

"No!" Then his tone softened. "Please don't, honey. Just give me a little more time. I can do it."

"Under one condition," I told him.

"Anything. What is it?"

"You go out there in the back yard, pick up that fancy chain saw I kept for you, and carve every chance you can."

"I can't. I just don't have what it takes anymore."

"How do you know? You haven't even tried."

"Because I know. It's not here anymore," he said hitting his fist to his chest.

"Cheri, it's not the loss of your talent you feel there, it's guilt, and it's time it stopped."

"But, I'm tired all the time."

I wasn’t getting through to him. "Very well, you quit one of your jobs, and I'll go to work. That way you’ll have enough energy."

His expression changed. Tyler knew I was serious. "You win. Don't take a job. I'll try."

"You promise?"

"Yes." He walked to a nearby window, his back turned to me.

"Say it," I demanded, worrying he’d change his mind.

"You don't trust me? Okay, I-I promise." Tyler still didn’t turn around.

I walked up behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. My voice softened. "I love you, Cheri."

"I love you, too," he said. He turned, wrapped his arms around me, kissed me and then buried his face into my hair and neck.

Tyler went to bed, but I stayed up worrying about him. He doubted his ability and I knew that. It was certain. But my faith in him was enough for both of us. Talking to his psychiatrist later confirmed my belief. Carving again would be the best therapy for him. It would prove to him he wasn’t the failure he thought he was.

The following weekend, Tyler ran into the shack shouting, "I did it! Once I slid the chain saw bar into the wood, it was like I’d never stopped carving."

I threw my arms around his neck. He hugged me and then pulled me back to face him, eye to eye.

Excitement glistened in his sky blue eyes and his voice as he continued, "The smell of the wood ... I feel whole ... complete. I tell you, it felt so good ... better than ... better than ... sex"

Leaning closer to him, I kissed and caressed him, molding my body to his. Tyler picked me up, carrying me to our bed where we made passionate love.

Afterwards, Tyler looked into my eyes and said, "Well ... almost better."

THE END!!!

(c) by Kim Cox -- no portion can be copied or reproduced without permission of the owner.