The Harder They Fall by Doreen Owens Malek

irrational fear of being alone. No matter how negative his opinion of her was, the one quality he exuded was strength and she needed that now.
    “I’m not going anywhere,” he said soothingly. “I was just reaching for the phone.”
    How nice he is when I’m in trouble, she thought dreamily. I should be in trouble all the time, cut my foot or pitch a faint. Then he will always talk with this gentle note in his voice, instead of that hard, cynical tone I hate.
    She heard him talking on the phone, the sound coming as if from a great distance, and then she was asleep.
    * * * *
    Helene awoke several hours later to find Chris sitting next to her bed in a kitchen chair. She had a dim memory of the doctor’s visit, his stern warnings about low blood pressure and exhaustion, but it all blended in with her dreams.
    “What’s the verdict?” she said, yawning.
    “Dr. Stern says you’re to stay in bed for the next several days, and if I have to handcuff you to the headboard you will do just that,” he said grimly.
    “Don’t worry,” Helene said quietly. “I know how much your brother’s child means to you. I’ll be good.”
    “I’m going to see that you are,” he said. He stood and opened the door to admit Maria, who came in still wearing the dress she had worn to the wedding that afternoon.
    “Oh, Chris, you didn’t,” Helene said in dismay. “This isn’t fair to Maria, she has her own family.”
    “My children are grown and out of the house and my husband can do without me for a few days,” Maria said briskly.
    “So you’re to be my watchdog?” Helene asked.
    “We have to take special care of you,” Maria replied, shooing Chris out of the room. When the door had closed behind him she added in a low tone, “That boy practically promised me the moon if I came here tonight. I think he’s really worried.”
    “He loved Martin, the baby is important to him.”
    “But you’re not?” Maria asked softly.
    “I’m the incubator,” Helene said lightly.
    Maria opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and settled for tucking the covers in around Helene’s feet.
    “Now,” she said, “how about a nice cup of herbal tea?”
    * * * *
    Once Maria was on the job, Chris virtually vanished. He was gone before Helene got up in the morning and he came in for dinner at night, bone weary, and ate anything Maria put in front of him. Then he went to his room, took a shower and changed and left again, doubtless for Brodie’s or a similar destination. Sometimes Helene heard him come in before she fell asleep, but usually not. She had no idea how he could keep such hours and work so hard, and she had no idea what Maria thought of their somewhat peculiar living arrangements. Nothing was discussed.
    When Dr. Stern returned in a week and pronounced Helene fit and rested, Maria went back home and Helene was allowed out of bed for the first time since the doctor’s previous visit. For two more weeks she wandered around the house, bored by inactivity, while Chris stuck to his previous schedule: work during the day and disappearances after dinner. One night at the end of September, looking for something to do, Helene wandered down to the living room to find a book on the shelves by the fireplace. She settled down to read. She read until well past midnight and then finally fell asleep with the book in her lap, waking by the chiming of the grandfather clock when Chris came in at two-thirty. He strode into the living room, spotted her on the couch and said wearily, “I thought you would be in bed.”
    He was wearing faded jeans that clung to him like a second skin, with woven moccasins and a yellow oxford cloth shirt showing vividly against his suntanned throat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the well developed veins and tendons in his work-hardened forearms. His hair was tousled, doubtless from the homeward ride in his convertible. Helene wished, not for the first time, that she had the nerve,