Disillusioned (11 page)

Despite her best attempts, Tessa could not
settle the issue either way. Whatever the case, whether for
Merritt's selfish benefit or his selfless concern for Tessa, he had
deceived her to an extent that she had never thought possible. Her
sense of betrayal cried out for her to confront him, but her reason
restrained her tongue. Until she knew his motive, she would not
know how to approach the resultant conversation, and Tessa knew
that this argument would surpass any she had ever known.

The bumping of the wheels against solid earth
interrupted Tessa's deliberations, and Merritt

jumped almost immediately to his feet.

When he turned back to Tessa, he wore an
almost triumphant grin, and she recognized the return of his
teasing demeanor. Tessa decided to play as casual as possible.

“You're really not going to tell me anything,
are you?” she demanded impatiently, her true irritation just
leaking through into her tone.

“Not until we're there!” he smirked impishly.
“So turn around,” he commanded. “I brought your blindfold.”

“Very funny,” Tessa scoffed.

Merritt produced something from behind his
back.

“No, you can't be serious!” She tried not to
sound panicked.

In response, he reached around behind her,
sweeping the blindfold across her eyes and beginning to tie it
behind her head. She reached up to arrest his hands, dismayed at
the thought of giving up her power of sight.

Instantly, Merritt brought the blindfold back
down.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” he begged,
genuine-sounding warmth emitting from his voice.

“I just...” Tessa stuttered. “I don't...”

She could think of nothing to say without
bringing up the deception.

“I thought you would enjoy this. Remember in
high school when you blind-folded me for our prom dinner?” He
grinned so excitedly that Tessa couldn't quite resist his
enthusiasm, feigned or not.

“Please, let me do this,” he whispered.
“It'll be so much more fun this way, for both of us.”

As he spoke, he raised the blindfold back to
her eyes, brushing his lips against her neck.

“Fine,” she answered breathlessly. Strangely,
her uncertainty did not make Merritt more repulsive. On the
contrary, though she did not trust him, and she could not relax
around him, not since the moment that she walked down the aisle had
he affected her as intensely as at the moment his mouth caressed
her skin. Even as her reason cried “no,” her heart shouted a
resounding “yes” to Merritt's mysterious intentions. She found
that, even knowing he had deceived her, some part of her clung to
trust with every ounce of strength, a faith beyond reason.

When the solid feel of concrete had thudded
beneath her feet, a bit of security had accompanied the tangibility
of the earth. She could breath, if not deeply, at least steadily.
With the security came a confidence in her own ability to adapt.
Whatever Merritt did, she could handle.

Despite her bravado, chills erupted once
again on her skin when when Merritt returned his lips to the back
of her neck. “Just stay with me,” Merritt's deep voice insisted in
a soft purr.

As long as you stay with
me
, she agreed silently, her heart pouring
every ounce of wishfulness into the thought.

“Like I have a choice,” she answered
aloud.

Merritt laughed, and Tessa chuckled nervously
in response.

“Do you trust me?” he chuckled.

Trying not to falter, Tessa responded, “Of
course,” in what she hoped was a light tone. Trust did not really
apply to what she felt about Merritt right now. She had learned
something about him on this flight to the unknown. Though she wore
a blind-fold as she left the plane, she felt as if someone had
lifted blinders off her eyes and had begun to reveal a whole new
reality to her. Tessa wished that she could return to her mundane
existence, but the possibility seemed infinitely remote. Now that
truth had unveiled her delusion, Tessa knew it was only a matter of
time before she began to live in the rough substance of the real
world. She would have given anything to have her illusion
again.

The brisk air stung Tessa's cheeks as Merritt
led her gingerly away from the airplane. Though he held her waist
tightly, Tessa couldn't help but feel unsteady as she plodded
aimlessly into the emptiness before her. The jacket that Merritt
had slipped over Tessa's shoulders hung loosely about her allowing
the gentle but frigid breeze to weave under it and chilling the
skin on her arms and neck.

“Merritt, how much farther are we walking,”
Tessa complained. “I'm freezing.”

“Relax,” he crooned, pulling the jacket a
little tighter and securing his arms more closely around her.

“This really is ridiculous,” she murmured,
hoping Merritt would consider removing her blindfold.

“Just a little farther,” he urged. “Be
patient.” Only about a dozen paces later, his arms arrested her
movements. The quiet hum of a car motor greeted her heightened
sense of hearing. Relieved, she waited patiently while Merritt left
her side. He returned a moment later and led her quickly to the
waiting car, carefully lowering her into the seat where the warm
air caressed her cold-pinched skin.

“Are you okay?” Merritt queried, his tone
reassuring rather than solicitous.

“Better now. Warm,” she quipped, snuggling
under his arm.

They rode in silence for several minutes
until Tessa felt Merritt shift from beside her. The cold left a
hollow where his body had warmed her, and he spoke from above her
as he spoke in her ear. His heated breath on her neck, he spoke in
a low voice, “I have a surprise for you. We're not staying here for
a week.”

“What!” Tessa began to protest. “We're not
staying here? Where are we going? I'm not keeping this blindfold on
for another plane ride!” Her mania resurfaced for a moment, but she
pressed it down with difficulty.

Merritt laughed a loud, wholehearted laugh.
“Listen to the emphasis. Not, 'we're not staying here,' Focus on
the 'for a week' part. We're not staying here for a week; we're
staying for a whole month!”

“A month?...” Tessa trailed off, her voice
tinged with animation. By the time she finished the phrase, the
sentiment had vanished, buried under her remembered suspicions.
When she continued, she offered more somberly, “What about your
work?”

“I may have to work a little,” he admitted,
“but it shouldn't interfere much with our vacation.”

“And the kids?” Tessa persisted.

“They'll be fine! Your mom and dad have all
sorts of stuff lined up for them to do. They'll be so busy, they'll
hardly miss us.”

Merritt still sounded so sincere, so honestly
excited. Despite her mounting concerns, she began to catch his
enthusiasm, or at least to wish it true.

“Wow, Merritt. I really don't know what to
say.”

For Tessa, a month of
uninterrupted free time sounded too good to be true. Merritt had
taken a sweet gesture and turned it into a grandiose plan.
How like him!
Tessa
smirked. Whenever Merritt planned something, he always went big,
turning a struggle into an opportunity, a loss into a
gain.

At home, though, he
sometimes ran into into barriers to his good intentions.
H
e couldn't magically whisk away
everyone's problems. His children needed his consistent presence,
and Tessa didn't know what she needed, she just didn't want to be
alone. Because of the complexity of family issues, Merritt couldn't
always find a solution to them. Why couldn't he solve her? How
could he fix her? When he realized that he couldn't rescue her on
his white horse, her allure had faded. She now stood as a constant
testimony to his lone failure. Of course, he no doubt blamed her.
Tessa's problems ran too deep for an earthly solutions. Sure,
everyone failed, but others' failure didn't reflect on Merritt
Wilson's worth. Tessa's failures did.

Fortunately for Merritt, few knew of his
personal struggles. Thanks largely to Merritt, Pericorp stock had
worked its way into a premier spot on the S&P, its major
stockholders now worth more than the GDP of most small nations.
Although Merritt could not initially buy his way into authority as
some had, his competence and risk-taking had paid off in continuous
promotions. Now an executive vice-president, one of only five, he
held authority over billions of dollars of other people's
investments. Tessa tried never to think of the fact – her nerves
couldn't take it.

Coming from small town America, Merritt
possessed both the advantages and disadvantages of being an
outsider. Advantages: outside-the-box thinking, practicality, and a
certain mystique. Disadvantages: no connections, no nepotism, and a
reputation which painted him as a little simplistic. For others who
had held Merritt's position, their abilities had never surmounted
their shortcomings, and they had faded into obscurity regardless of
their intelligence. Merritt, though, had always scoffed at the idea
of, “It's not what you know, it's who you know that matters.” He
had known no one when he came into Pericorp, starting out as a
paper pusher, one of thousands. Within five years, Merritt had
climbed a corporate ladder that most scaled over fifteen. No one
saw him coming, and some resented him.

Merritt's only acknowledged contention with
his bosses came from his perceived “lack of loyalty.” Though Walt
Johnson would have preferred otherwise, Merritt was no respecter of
persons. Whether Merritt had a meeting with the CEO or the mail
room boy, Merritt gave both equal time and interest. His fairness
often irritated his superiors even as they praised his magnanimity.
“Merritt,” he imitated his CEO one day as he replayed a story for
Tessa. “While we respect your desire to be equitable, we need you
to be aware of a policy of company loyalty we expect from our upper
management.”

What Merritt had ascertained from the
conversation was that the mail room boy really didn't matter to
Pericorp. Merritt should consider most of his underlings as grist
for the mill, useful only to perpetuate the company's benefit. Of
course, to Merritt, this corporate attitude became his biggest
challenge ever – his ultimate opportunity to play the shining
knight.

“Show him in,” Merritt had responded to his
assistant, Paula, in answer to a request one day. Paula opened the
heavy, wooden door to allow a small, mousy man, so stereotypical of
an accountant or clerk that Merritt stifled a chuckle. John
Mitchell had come to Pericorp as a “data entry specialist,”
basically a step up from receptionist, and now he sat in front of
Merritt with some lower level dilemma.

“Um, hi, Mr. Wilson,” John had stuttered,
obviously nervous. Tessa had often seen this reaction to Merritt
among his underlings.

“Hey, Mr. Mitchell,” Merritt had crowed
casually, trying his hardest to alleviate John's apprehension.

“Um, Mr. Wilson, I hope you'll forgive me for
coming to you so brazenly. I'm afraid it's a little presumptuous of
me.” The man had come, no doubt, because of Merritt's reputation
for equanimity.

“Please, go ahead Mr. Mitchell.”

“Oh, just call me John,” he pleaded, a bit
abashed at Merritt's respectful formality.

“Okay, John. Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” John grinned. “Um, I have a bit of
a situation with one of my upper management team, uh, changing some
numbers?” his assertion came out like a question in response to his
nerves.

“Changing numbers, John?” Merritt scrutinized
John's face.

John dropped his eyes to the floor,
apparently intimidated by Merritt's forcefulness. John Mitchell had
seemed uncertain, as if afraid that he had been wrong about
Merritt. The “data entry specialist” seemed to search the lines in
the tiled floors for his next words. “Well, um, I know I don't
understand all of the complexities of Pericorp finances, but money
has been...” John paused, again hesitant.

“Go on, John,” Merritt encouraged.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cynical, but I
need to be assured that what I tell you is in confidence, that you
won't link my name to this information. I really need this
job.”

Merritt leaned forward and looked John in the
eye saying, “You have my word.”

A smile had lit John's face, a trusting smile
that Tessa could picture perfectly. “Thank you,

Mr. Wilson. I know you keep your word. Uh, I
can give you the exact report numbers, but it's, it's coming out of
the Manhattan division.”

“Manhattan? So, Peter Finley's group.”

“I don't really want to name any names, Mr.
Wilson. Um, I just wanted to share with you the little bit of
irrefutable information that I do have. I'm not making any
accusations. Just, uh, just check it out for me if you get a
chance. I don't even care if you never tell me what happens. I
trust you will do what's right.”

“Thank you, John,” Merritt had replied with
sincerity. No one appreciated being trusted like Merritt. He had
always valued his character above almost anything else. “I won't
disappoint you.”

John had laughed, again abashed at Merritt's
humility. “I know you won't,” he rose, taking his leave. “Thanks
again.”

After John Mitchell's request, Merritt had
spent hours pouring over the financial records in question, trying
to ascertain what had happened and whom he could hold responsible.
Finally, unable to affix blame to any specific person, Merritt had
decided to call Peter Finley directly, though Merritt knew he
couldn't accuse outright.

“Really,” he had justified
to Tessa later, “as long as the problem stops, it doesn't matter
that much if someone is held publicly responsible.”

He should have predicted Tessa's response,
yet when he told her the story, he had cringed at the look of
reproach Tessa had leveled at him. “Tessa, give me break,” he had
said. “If I go public with this, Walt will question my 'company
loyalty' again.”