Free Michael’s Wife by Marlys Millhiser

balance. She could see the sweat-soaked patch of shirt between his shoulder blades as he twisted and landed to face the opposite direction. He leaped again and twisted so that he was facing her, his lips pulled back to expose his teeth as he gasped in air.
    On the next leap he brought his knees up to his chest and somersaulted, landing on his feet. Again and again and faster until the veins at his temples pushed out at the skin, and Laurel’s pulse raced. He was a powerful man and an angry one and here was another release for a violent temper.
    She could stand no more and turned to the door, her head thumping with the trampoline. She had one hope left, a small one. Harley. He wasn’t much, but he was all the friend she had in the world and she had to get out of this house and away from Michael Devereaux.

6
    â€œHe ain’t here.” Raymond McBride sounded as though he were used to receiving calls for Harley and didn’t like it much.
    â€œDo you know where I might reach him?” Laurel spoke softly on the upstairs telephone.
    â€œI don’t know where he is. He should be in late this afternoon though.”
    â€œI’ll call back about four. Will you ask him to wait for my call?”
    â€œWell, I’ll ask, but I can’t promise with Harley. Who should I say called?”
    â€œLaurel … no … just say Doe Eyes. He’ll know. Thank you, Mr. McBride.” She hung up before he could ask any more questions.
    It was Sunday morning and she’d watched Paul, Michael, and Jimmy go off to mass. Claire had taken another car to her church. She didn’t know where Janet was, probably getting her beauty sleep. It had been a perfect time to talk to Harley and she was disappointed not to have found him at the motel. There’d been no reason to think he would be there, but the motel was her only contact with him. She’d have to take her chances and hope to get a phone call out secretly that afternoon.
    Laurel didn’t know how she would talk Harley into coming to Tucson for her. There was the fifty dollars that Paul had given her for spending money, a preciously small stake for a new start but maybe she’d offer him some of it.
    She was jumpy the rest of the day and especially through dinner, an elaborate but quiet affair in the small dining room. It was served about two-thirty. There were two brass candlesticks on the table, their candles unlit. Laurel worried about spilling on the red and gold brocaded tablecloth that looked as if it should be hanging at the windows instead of covering the table. She fidgeted like a child in the uncomfortable high-backed chair and tried to take courage in the fact that this was the last such ordeal she’d have to endure.
    Paul discussed some family business with Michael, something about withholding land from a proposed subdivision. Their voices sounded strangely hollow in the high-ceilinged room, Paul’s thin nervous tenor contrasting with Michael’s rumbling bass. Janet was not up to her usual snide chatter. She picked at her food and secretly watched Michael. And so did Claire.
    Laurel had to admit that he possessed a certain magnetism that attracted female eyes—his deep voice, his effortless assurance. And yet an occasionally abrupt movement as he reached for his glass or rubbed his forehead gave her an impression of violence, of energy barely contained. She wondered what it was that had attracted her to him once, the exotic good looks or the hint of danger about him that frightened her now? Out of the corners of her eyes she watched as his long fingers unconsciously twisted and untwisted the cloth napkin on his lap. What had it been like to sleep with him? I must not be Laurel. I can’t even imagine what it would be like .
    After dinner the family congregated in the warm sun of the courtyard. Michael and Claire played with Jimmy, throwing a ball for him to catch. Janet and Paul sat near the fountain and