The convertible swung around and the headlights blinded her. She was barely able to see the four shadowy men who climbed out of the car. Panic chilled her as she realized the danger.
She was absolutely alone and the nearest house was at least a mile away.
"Hello there, kitten..." one of the men drawled.
Fear paralyzed her legs as they drew closer and she could see their smiles.
"Go away," she begged shakily. "Leave me alone."
They laughed-it was drunken laughter. She felt sick inside as she tried to back away from hem. One of them said something about her pretty legs and another commented on how young she was.
"What do you want?" she asked foolishly, near ears.
"What do we want?" one of them echoed mockingly. "We wanna play house, honey. You an be the mommy and well be the daddies." The group broke into laughter. They moved closer.
"Please," she sobbed, cowering. "Please, don't ... "
Two grabbed her and she screamed.
"Relax, baby," one of them grunted. "Relax and enjoy it."
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
A dense, merciless cloud of heat had settled everywhere, apparently to stay. The soft chirping of crickets floated lazily through the sultry June night air ... the only perceptible movement for miles.
Judy perched herself on the window-sill in her bedroom and considered filling the tub, even though her wheat-colored hair was still damp from the bath she'd taken barely an hour ago. The end of her ponytail hung limp and tickled the bare flesh between her shoulder blades, annoyingly. She thought about pinning the darned thing up, but she knew the act would require more strength than she could muster in such weather.
The newscaster on the radio promised another uncomfortable eighty-degree day for tomorrow. Summer was still supposed to be three weeks away, Judy thought irritably. Yet she could see the gnarled oaks in the yard already bending beneath the full burden of leafy weight they would carry through October. The entire countryside was thick with foliage, and the big brushfire over in Allendale had unofficially opened the new season.
The radio program switched back to the rock-and-roll hit parade but Judy didn't respond. It was too hot to even snap her fingers in time to her favorite music. It was too hot to do anything, it seemed, but sit and melt.
Her textbooks and homework assignments lay untouched on top of a rickety bridge table in a corner of the room. Sighing resignedly, Judy tried to summon up enough energy to attack the geometry problems waiting for her ... until a shadowy movement out in the road caught her attention.
Hostilely she watched a long, shiny convertible roll to a stop in front of the broken gate and flip its brights on and off, twice. A moment later, the hinges of a screen door creaked betrayingly and the silhouette of a woman moved quickly out of the house and down the path.
Judy didn't want to see any more. She didn't have to. She sulked across the room, turned off the radio, and plopped herself flat on her back on top of the mattress. The material of her white shorts strained taut and pressed a line high across the creamy flesh of her smooth young thighs. Her bare abdomen quivered from labored breathing and the round swell of her perfectly-formed breasts rose and fell beneath the thin cotton of a strapless halter. She wore no brassiere: pink buds of flesh pressed in shadowed outline against the flimsy material.
Who was it this time, she wondered disgustedly. Which one of her mother's slimy boyfriends was going to polish off the fresh six-pack of beer in the icebox tonight? Was it Charlie, maybe ... the one who liked to pat Judy playfully on the behind while mom was busy in the kitchen fixing him sandwiches? Or Steve perhaps ... with his dark, beady little eyes that used to strip her naked in their hungry glance? Or any other one of the half-dozen creeps who tip-toed in and out of the house at all hours of the day and night?
Whomever it was, she just wasn't going to be bothered by him, Judy told herself decisively. She would simply forget that she'd seen the car drive up to the house and stop.
Soft, double footsteps on the porch, followed by the whine and slam of the front door announced that they'd come inside. Judy reached for her math book and tried to force her full attention to its pages, despite a sickly sensation that was rising in the pit of her stomach. What the hell was she supposed to think was happening, when the house suddenly became so quiet, she asked herself.
Anger mushroomed uncontrollably through her. Where did some women get the notion that their daughters were deaf, dumb and blind? Why couldn't mom just get married and live a normal life? Twelve years of freedom, with one affair following another should be enough to make any woman want to settle down.
The lines and figures in her book seemed to merge into one shapeless blur before her eyes. Judy rolled over onto her stomach and brushed aside a lock of hair that had tumbled and stuck to her forehead. She visualized a quick trip to the kitchen for a coke, but immediately dismissed the idea. It was much too quiet down there already. Chances were, she'd walk into a scene that would embarrass everybody. Besides, if one more of those greasy-looking guys gave her the eye, she knew she was going to have a fit.
Hurried footsteps on the wooden stairs drew her glance toward the closed bedroom door. Judy held her breath, anticipating what was going to happen. Maybe this time would be different, she hoped. Maybe this time, mom would have a little consideration.
"Judy dear ... are you in there?" The voice was tense, anxious.
Judy turned back to her book without answering. At the bottom of her mind lay the vague hope that mom would go away ... that she would disappear into some dark recess of the old house and leave her daughter to contend only with the unbearable weather.
No such luck.
"Judy ... is it okay if I come in?"
She slammed the textbook closed and jumped up off the bed, just as her mother pushed the door open. "Can't you see I'm trying to do my homework?" Judy complained. "What is it this time?"
Eve Baker faced her daughter with a brittle, guilty smile. "Pretty hot up here, isn't it?" she said, glancing quickly around the room. "I thought maybe you'd like to take a walk down to Four Corners and pick up a quart of ice cream."
Judy rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. The least the woman could do was dream up a better excuse than that one, she thought. If mom wanted to get her out of the house for half-an-hour why didn't she just say so?
A spark of rebellion flared inside her. "Why don't you ask your friend to go?" she said, coyly. "He's got a car and it's only a five minute drive. If I have to walk all the way over and back it'll take over half-an-hour. The ice cream will be melted by the time I get home."
All the breath seemed to go out of the woman in one, enormous sigh, that left her looking drained and pale. "Do as I tell you Judy, and don't be fresh," she snapped. "Now take this and go get the ice cream." She pulled a crumpled bill out of her pocket, handed it over, and left the room without another word. Judy listened to her mother's footsteps descending hastily toward the living-room. The murmur of hushed, intimate voices followed by a grotesque, girlish giggle rose to the second floor and throbbed painfully through her skull. She picked up the math book and glanced helplessly at its pages to the pile of work waiting on the table. Then, as a sudden pounding inside her chest threatened to crack her ribs, she hurled the book against the wall and raced for the back door.
The road leading to Four Corners was deserted, and tall maples arching above her cast leafy patterns across the face of the moon. Judy ambled along, in no particular hurry to get where she was going or to return. The violence and anger she'd felt back in the house seemed to disappear once she was past the front yard. Now, as she felt herself being swallowed up in the country darkness, she thought about how nice it would be if she never had to go home at all.
Twin beams of light suddenly rounded the curve in front of her, capturing Judy in their glare. She jumped to the side of the road and cursed silently after the automobile that went speeding off, spitting pebbles into the woods. "Crazy kids," she thought, as she made her way back into the middle of the road. "They could kill somebody and never know it."
The squeal of tires about a hundred yards behind her made Judy stop and look around again. Through the thickness of the trees, she saw the headlights swing back and forth and she realized that the car was turning around.
A queasy feeling of apprehension chilled along her spine, despite the temperature of the evening. It occurred to her for the first time that she was absolutely alone on that road. The closest house was at least half-a-mile away, and except for a chance motorist there was nobody within earshot. She forced her panic aside even though she could hear the sound of the car returning quickly in her direction. She was perfectly safe on that road, she told herself. She'd walked the distance to Four Corners ever since she'd been old enough to find her way. Nothing had ever happened to her. There was no reason to start getting crazy ideas now.
She felt the headlights on her back and moved over to the side of the road without looking around. Judy forced herself to concentrate on her own lengthening shadow. A moment or two at most and the car would disappear back through the woods, she assured herself. Probably nothing more than someone who had taken the wrong turn toward the city. Certainly nothing to worry about.
"Hi, there, beautiful. Want a lift?"
A paralyzing sense of dread stiffened her legs and slowed her pace to a crawl. The brashness she'd heard in that tone was living, immediate proof of exactly what she'd feared.
"Come on, good-looking, there's room for one more."
Judy kept her eyes set straight ahead. The voice sounded like it belonged to a young boy. About eighteen or nineteen years old, she figured. If she didn't pay any attention, he'd probably go away, she tried to encourage herself.
"Come on, honey, we won't bite ya."
She quickened her step. She hadn't counted on there being more than one person in that car. Yet the last remark had been followed by a chorus of laughter and she could feel the eyes of several people watching, as the automobile inched along right beside her. A constricting sensation started to close her throat. The night air turned red hot and difficult to breathe.
"How about a drink, sweetie? We gotta bottle, if you're interested."
"You just go wherever you were going and leave me alone." She heard the shrill, shrewish anger in her voice, and recognized the sound of fear. She knew her words wouldn't fool them.
"Listen to her, fellas. The girl thinks she's too good to have a drink with us. Maybe we should teach her different."
Judy clenched her fists into tight little balls, and forced herself not to break into a run. She hadn't recognized the voices. None of them belonged to any of the kids from school. But she did recognize the inference in thek words, and the drunkenness in their tone. A ticklish trail of perspiration ran between her breasts.
"Hey, get a load of those legs!" A wolf whistle pierced through the night air. "And I'll bet the rest of hers not so bad either."
She felt a combination of embarrassment and frustration rise to her cheeks and burn. Judy whirled toward the car and strained to see the faces inside. It was too dark. All she could make out were shadowed shapes of heads and shoulders ... all male ... all turned and leaning in her direction.
"Just lose yourself, will you?" she yelled, aware of the way her voice was trembling. Her glance darted frantically to either side as if some miracle could cause a house to spring up close enough to offer safety.
"How about that, guys? The girl doesn't want to act nice?" A new higher-pitched, adolescent voice made itself heard. "Some nerve, don't you think?"
The others agreed immediately.
There was no point in trading insults with them, Judy realized. Her only chance was to keep right on going, and hope that eventually the boys would get tired of this sadistic game. She continued to walk quickly along the side of the road. The maddening sound of tires crunching slowly over loose stones told her that the car was remaining beside her. She watched its headlights snap black trees suddenly into view, one by one.
Suddenly Judy became aware of excited whisperings inside the car, and her legs began to quake under her. An hysterical rumbling shook her limbs and forced unrelated thoughts chaotically through her mind. She thought about her mother, back at the house, wrapped up in the arms of that crumb with the long shiny car. She thought about the pile of homework that would probably keep her up half the night now, and final exams barely two weeks away. For a few seconds the vulgar boys in that automobile became distant and remote. Very unimportant compared to other problems on her mind. And then, she could think of nothing else.
Without warning, the driver stepped on the gas and the car swung around blocking her path. Judy stopped short and gasped, as she saw the doors fly open and the dark figures hurry out into the roadway. They seemed tall, much taller than she'd expected from the youthful sounds of their voices.
Without a word, the boys surrounded her. They were everywhere.
Judy turned, making a complete circle in her attempt to find an escape route. There was none. The eerie figures closed into a tight knot about her, cutting off the rest of the world ... imprisoning her in the middle of the road.
"Come on ... leave me alone, please..." she said, tiredly. "I wasn't looking for any trouble. What do you want..."
"What do you want?" the youth behind her echoed, mockingly. "The girl wants to know what we want. Should we tell her, fellas?"
They all laughed, nervously.
"We wanna play house," one of them cracked. "You can be the mommy, and we'll all be the daddies."
The group broke into hoots of laughter again.
And a terrible, almost unbelievable awareness started to choke the life out of her.
A high-pitched, agonized scream wrenched free of her throat, split the air, and then disappeared up among the lofty tree tops. She became aware of rapid, blurred movement, just before a strong hand closed painfully over her mouth, making further protests impossible.
Judy struggled and tried to free herself. A steel arm circled her bare middle, and cruel fingers dug into the soft, vulnerable flesh there. A muffled, gurgling sound bubbled through her throat as she tried to open her mouth and bite the hand squeezing over her jaw. The fingers closed even tighter, pressing into her cheeks and forcing the soft flesh of her mouth against her teeth.
"Say she looks like she's really going to put up a fight," the high-pitched adolescent voice sounded unsure. "Maybe we oughta forget this whole thing."
"What are you-chicken or something" A deeper, more arrogant voice challenged. "If you don't want any, just shut up until we're finished. Right, fellas?"
The other voices agreed in varying degrees of certainty.
Judy kicked her leg forward and felt the point of her shoe connect with a hard shin. A grunt of pain was quickly followed by a stream of hoarsely-murmured obscenities. "This bitch really wants to get roughed up," the shadowy figure spat. "Chuck ... Eddie ... grab her arms."
Judy flailed the air helplessly with her fists until two boys approached and pinned her arms to her sides. She felt the closeness of three male bodies pressed around her and her senses began to swim. Her eyes bulged and a merciless spasm rocked her insides. The cruel hand over her mouth was choking off her supply of air, and the fingers pressed roughly over her rib-cage bruised her aching flesh. She prayed for a car to come by ... for anybody or anything that would scatter her assailants.
Instead she felt herself being forced toward the waiting car. Snatches of conversation around her prophesied the horrible future waiting, only minutes away. And in a brief, crystal clear moment of reality, she realized she was about to be raped, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.
The three boys dragged and pulled her into the back seat of the car while the others piled in up front. Doors slammed and somebody gunned the motor. The hand over her mouth loosened a little, but Judy couldn't find breath to cry out, or even to beg these strangers for mercy. She sat limp in the darkness where they'd placed her. An overpowering odor of liquor thickened the air inside the automobile, and made her gag.
"There's a place. Turn in that way," one of the voices said anxiously.
The car bumped noisily off to the right and made its way slowly through a break in the foliage. Judy's eyes darted around her, as she saw the road slipping into the darkness behind the car.
"Okay. Kill the lights and let's go," the driver's voice snapped. In reply the others hurried back to motion.
Twigs and branches scratched her bare arms and legs, as Judy was hurried through the bushes and into the center of a small clearing. A shaft of moonlight broke through the trees and illuminated the faces of her attackers. Judy turned away from the sight of leering, hungry eyes. She couldn't bear to look at them, or to think of what was going to happen to her.
"Say, she's even better looking than I thought," said the tall, dark-haired driver, as he stepped up in front of her, and eyed her body appreciatively, "and built, too!"
Judy trembled from head to toe, as she heard the sound of twigs crunching beneath the boy's footsteps. She wondered if they were going to kill her, if this were where her sixteen years of life had been leading, from the very start.
"Tell me, honey. How many have you had?" The dark-haired one was very close to her now.
"Nobody. I swear it," she moaned weakly. She smelled the foul odor of liquor from his mouth, and turned her face away. "Please let me go," she begged. "I won't say anything. Just let me go."
"And give up a chance at these?" The boy laughed meanly and reached forward to squeeze the twin mounds of flesh beneath her thin halter. "Not on your life."
Judy gasped and writhed furiously trying to break the grip that held her arms at her sides. She struggled and kicked vainly to free herself. A few moments later she stood breathless; spent and sick with having to endure the feel of rough hands that pawed the front of her body.
"Some hellcat, don't you think, boys?" The dark-haired one called to the others. "Whaddaya say we see what she really looks like?"
An excited flutter of assent rippled through the clearing.
The sound of material ripping shocked everyone into momentary silence. Judy felt the night air suddenly caress her flesh. When she looked down, her naked breasts glowed ivory pale in the moonlight.
"Hey, look at that," a voice off to the side whispered.
"Look, nothing," the dark-haired boy laughed. "You can look if you want to. I'm gonna do a helluva lot more than that."
Brutal fingers hurried forward. Judy groaned and recoiled as damp hands squeezed her breasts, shaming her, sickening her, hurting her sensitive flesh. Suddenly those hands grabbed at the waistband of her shorts and tugged.
A flash of hysteria charged through her body. She worked desperately to fend off the attack. Kicking and shaking, she pushed the boy away, and tried to free her arms. She would kill him, she told herself. She would kill them all the moment she was free.
The dark-haired boy stepped quickly to the side, and kicked her legs out from under her. Judy screamed, as she felt herself falling to the earth. The coolness of the soil chilled her naked back, just a second before someone covered her mouth again. Before she could move, her legs were grabbed and held against the ground. She watched, frozen with terror, as the dark-haired boy pulled and ripped at her shorts until they were well down over her hips. Then with fingers that scratched and bruised, he yanked her flimsy panties past her thighs until they bunched over her ankles.
The sickness crawled steadily up toward her throat, burning her insides, and muddying her brain. She became aware of nervous laughter around her, and strong eager hands covering her naked body. She felt them squeezing her breasts ... probing high along her thighs ... digging underneath to the soft swell of her buttocks.
"Wanna finish off the rest of this bottle first . .
"Come on. Let me have another sip."
"I don't care about the rest of you. I'm ready now."
The pressure that held her against the ground grew stronger until the pain in her arms and legs turned to numbness. Judy looked up, pleading with her eyes ... hoping to find a glimmer of sympathy in any of the faces that leered down at her. Then those faces were gone and in their place was one sweating, tense expression that she recognized as the boy who'd stripped her. She tried to move, one last time, fend off the rough hands positioning her there on the ground. Her strength was gone, and her limbs did not respond. Her body felt strangely dead, without feeling, without awareness.
"Okay honey. Let's see how good you fight back now."
The numbness in her flesh turned suddenly to pain. All of her seemed to ignite into white-hot fire. The trees and the moon began to blur; a strange, sickly, greenish-gray color clouded everything over. Judy felt an insistent pressure closing in at the back of her skull. Three or four faces beamed closer, eyes wide ... mouths strained into tense, tight little slits. Then, suddenly, mercifully, everything disappeared...
The moon had moved across the sky. Judy lay on her back, eyes glazed, looking straight above her. She listened for the sounds of them ... the laughing animal voices of her tormentors. There was nothing. Only the cheerful crickets off in the forest.
It took a long time for her to crawl on to her hands and knees. She searched the clearing for remnants of her clothing. When she found the halter, it was torn, and she had to knot it over her nakedness. Her panties had been ripped beyond use, but she somehow managed to pull her shorts up and hold them, closed, about her hips.
She rose to her feet, every movement an excruciating task that drew a murmur of agony from her parched throat. Slowly, dully, she staggered out of the clearing and hoped she was headed in the right direction.
The trees suddenly thinned into low bushes.
Gasping with relief, Judy flung herself forward, until she felt the little pebbles of the road beneath her feet She staggered half-way across and turned left, toward home. One step followed another, with the greatest effort. The soles of her feet burned, and the scratches on her legs began to smart
The hum of a car motor grew louder behind her. Judy sobbed and hurried off the road. What if it were them again? What if the boys had come back for another chance at her torn, aching flesh?
Strong headlights flashed about her. She started to run ... to try and hide on the far side of the road. Her knees buckled and she went down among the sharp branches of a berry bush. The car squealed to a halt ahead of her, and she heard its gears shift noisily. Little pebbles flew as the automobile moved in reverse and stopped, barely three feet from her quivering body.
A man and a woman rushed out and leaned over her. Judy heard their anxious voices questioning her and then talking to each other. She tried to answer, but when she opened her mouth, her lips refused to form the words.
"We'd better take her into town," the woman said, her tone full of concern. "They'll know what to do with her at the police station."
Judy heard only the sound of her own sobbing as she was lifted gently into the car. Then, everything went black again.
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
Mel Davis ran his fingers through his thick, curly-brown hair and tried to control his rising temper. It wasn't what they'd said that had annoyed him half as much as all those things they hadn't said. Blind people, he thought, feeling the last of his patience slip quickly away. Blind, stupid people.
He rose disgustedly from the conference table and latched the lock on his briefcase. The sound penetrated a conversational lull and all eyes turned questioningly toward him. The other faculty members sat frozen in rapt attention.
"Something wrong, Mel?" Bernice Woodruff of the math department asked in her crisp, prissy voice.
The full import of his thoughts and action reached him, and Mel paused, faltering only for a moment. His irritation was genuine and justified, he decided, and suddenly he didn't care who knew it.
"Yes, there's something very wrong," he said, flattening his palms on the worn table top, as he leaned forward to address the group. "All of you sound like a bunch of clinical, big-city social workers, the way you talk. We'll scale her grades up..."we'll give her extra tutoring ... we'll overlook the uncompleted assignments..." He echoed the words that had been spoken during the past hour's meeting, in a tone thick with contempt.
"I don't see what's so wrong with that," Carl Evans of the social studies department interrupted. "We're extending every assistance in the girl's direction."
"And now how saintly we all must feel," Mel answered tiredly. "In the meantime, I haven't heard one word about encouraging the girl to open her mouth and join in the class discussion. Nobody said anything about drawing her out of that shell she's been in, and making her feel like an acceptable human being again."
"Now who's talking like a social worker?" Bernice chirped, a hint of triumph coloring her tone. "I understood the function of a teacher was to instruct, not to mother."
Mel clenched his teeth and forced the answer burning in his brain to remain unspoken. What kind of woman was Bernice Woodruff anyhow, he wondered, not to know intuitively what he'd been trying to get across. "You don't seem to understand." He forced his words to come out slowly and evenly, despite the anger churning violently inside of him. "This girl was assaulted only one week ago. Her picture has been in every paper within fifty miles."
He hesitated momentarily before deciding to plunge ahead. "With all due respect to the ladies present," he eyed Bernice straightforwardly, "every person that Judy meets knows she's been had by four guys. Her classmates. Her relatives. Her friends. How do you think she feels?"
An embarrassed, noncommittal shrug was the only reaction. Nobody's eyes met Mel's.
"And not one of us, mind you, has mentioned anything about offering a little reassurance ... about letting her know she's not some kind of freak to be gaped at and visualized on her back, somewhere out in the woods."
"Mel, I think you're going a little too far now." Carl rose out of his chair, gray eyes intent. "I'm sure everyone understands what happened. It's a terrible thing, that goes without saying. But that's no reason to get over-emotional. We're adults, remember?"
"Maybe you're right," Mel snapped. "I didn't mean to ruffle the status quo around here. Forgive me. I was just under the impression that there's more to a schoolteacher's job than marking papers." He stalked out of the conference room, turning his back on the dozen people who stared after him in astonishment.
"Hey, Mel. Hold on a moment, will you?"
Mel recognized his friend Walter's voice, but kept on walking. The irritation he felt seemed to echo in the sharp click of his heels, as he walked down the long corridor of Marshall High School.
"Come on buddy, you're not mad at me, are you?" Walter's naturally long stride brought him quickly abreast of Mel. "That was some speech you gave back in there. I think they're all still stuck to their seats."
"I wasn't trying to make a speech," Mel answered, matter-of-factly. "I was just expressing what I honestly feel."
"Yeah, sure Mel. I know. You just wanted everyone to chuck the girl under the chin a little bit. That makes sense."
Mel turned his head slightly and smiled, despite the residual annoyance he felt. Walter had a way of oversimplifying matters as only parents and army sergeants can. Being a health ed instructor suited him to a tee.
He went into the faculty lounge with Walter half-a-stride behind him. With a quick glance at his watch, he noted there were still ten minutes remaining before his next English class and he felt grateful. After what had just happened, he needed a smoke. Badly.
"I wonder if they heard me," he thought aloud as he lit a cigarette. "I wonder if anything I said penetrated those thick pedantic skulls."
"Oh, they heard you," Walter assured him. "You came through loud and clear. I was right on the edge of my seat every word."
Mel nodded and decided to let the subject drop. A distracting tightness ached across the muscles of his stomach and along the back of his neck. It was the same kind of constriction he'd experienced during that argument with Phyllis last night, and he knew he'd better calm down if he intended to concentrate on his work today.
"Look, it's not so bad," Walter continued, sounding genuinely concerned. "You've got the girl for English, don't you? There's nothing to stop you from doing all those things you said you wanted everybody else to do."
"But I'm only one of her teachers," Mel protested. "She needs all the help she can get. Judy's in a bad way, believe me.
"I can see that. Poor kid." Walter nodded his agreement sadly. "She's had a hard time of it. Would I like to get my hands on those young punks for just five minutes!"
To himself, Mel agreed. He'd fejt the same way when he'd read the account of the attack in the Courier. And even more so when he'd seen Judy Baker in class for the first time yesterday, pale and withdrawn, a near ghost of the blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl he'd taught since the beginning of the spring term.
The bell signaling the end of the period rang, startling them both. Mel crushed out his cigarette, lifted his briefcase, and moved toward the door.
"See you after school, as usual?" Walter asked, as they hurried down the hall, crowded now with noisy students.
"Yeah ... sure..." Mel mumbled still wrapped in his own thoughts.
He was the first to arrive in the room. Mel rummaged through the papers in his briefcase, glad that he'd scheduled a test for this morning. He knew without doubt that the thoughts preying on his mind would have been a tremendous distraction, if he'd had to teach something new.
On the other side of his desk he became aware of animated voices of the boys and girls as they entered the classroom. He didn't look up to smile his usual greeting. Somewhere in that group, he knew, was Judy Baker, probably alone and silent. Yesterday, it had been embarrassing to even look at her. The return to school must have been pure torture for the kid. And when he had looked at her, he had seen her agony reflected across taut planes of a sallow face ... a face tightened with concern far beyond the years of a youngster.
The second bell brought a nervous hush to the room. Mel looked across the desk at the twenty anxious faces looking up into his. "I'm glad to see everybody so relaxed and confident this morning." He forced a light tone and manner.
A ripple of soft laughter told him his acting was adequate.
"That's much better," Mel continued, keeping his glance purposely away from the fourth seat in the second row. "Since this is going to be a full period exam, I suggest you all put your books underneath your desks and make yourselves as comfortable as you can. There'll be plenty of time to consider the questions carefully and answer them all. That is, if you've done all the homework and outside reading assignments."
Another ripple of laughter, this time tinged with guilt.
"Well, there's only one way to find out who's been studying and who hasn't." Mel walked down to the first row and started counting out test forms. The clicking of ball-point pens punctuated the atmosphere as the papers were passed towards the rear of the room. Mel distributed the last group and returned to his desk.
The exam wasn't a difficult one, he knew. Last night when he'd written it up, he'd taken into consideration that most of the kids had put in a good term's work. With one or two exceptions, everybody would pass. At this stage of the term, they were merely marking time until the prescribed number of schooldays was over.
Mel felt the fingers of his right hand roll themselves into a fist as he had to admit the rest of the truth to himself. The kids' good work wasn't the only reason the test had turned out to be easy. He'd walked into his study last night just in time to hear Phyllis slam their bedroom door upstairs and lock it. It had been difficult to work, knowing that once again his wife had barred him from her presence as a punishment for having been a disappointment to her. The reason that the test would be so simple today was because he hadn't been able to give much thought to it last night.
The minutes began to drag by. Mel leaned against a wall and observed the students deeply engrossed in reading the questions. He stifled a yawn and allowed his mind to wander, aware that it was much too early in the exam for anybody to be cheating. A sweet-scented breeze drifted in through an open window, and lured his gaze out toward the tree-lined street. Mel watched a familiar parade of women with baby carriages and working people passing by the school gates. He recognized most of them and could fairly well predict where they were going or what they were doing.
A disquieting sensation of uncertainty descended, causing him to shift his weight nervously from one foot td the other. It occurred to him that come September he would have been teaching English in the town of Carter's Crossing for five years. The same courses. The same schoolbooks. The same classroom. What had he accomplished? Where was he going? Decoration Day weekend had brought his thirtieth birthday and still he felt far from settled.
Not true, Mel insisted to himself. Those were really Phyllis's ideas and not his own. She was the one who wanted him to get out of Carter's Crossing. She was the one who believed he was burying himself alive in this small town, hundreds of miles from New York City.
"Excuse me, Mr. Davis..."
The closeness of the soft voice startled him out of his reverie and brought him back to the present. Turning quickly from the view he faced the flaxen-haired girl who stood looking bashful and unsure beside him.
"Yes, Judy, is something the matter?" He heard the unevenness of his own voice and realized it had almost cracked. An odd quivering rippled up along his spine.
The girl hesitated, her expression molded in misery. Huge eyes were downcast, and her shoulders stooped. "About the test," she began, fidgeting uncomfortably.
Mel placed an index finger over his lips and nodded toward the door. "Let's go outside," he whispered. "We can talk there without disturbing anybody else."
He watched Judy turn and start across the front of the classroom. Ignoring several pairs of eyes that followed them questioningly, he walked after the girl and out of the room.
The dimness of the light in the hallway accentuated the deep circles beneath her eyes and the ivory paleness of her complexion. Mel closed the classroom door behind them to create an illusion of privacy, and waited for Judy to speak.
"I'm sorry, I just can't do this," she said, finally, handing over the test form and an empty piece of paper. "I read all the questions, and I thought I could get a couple of the answers..."
"Are you sure you looked everything over carefully?" Mel blurted, feeling positive that the girl was about to cry.
She nodded, slowly. "Everything. It's no use."
"What about the essays?" Mel tried to stall for time. He had the feeling that the girl was itching to run ... to fly like a frightened bird and disappear to heaven-only-knew where ... and try to hide from a stigma she could not dispel.
"The essays are the worst part," she said, sounding just a shade calmer. "I read as much as I could last night, and I thought I'd be able to get through at least part of it."
Mel knew that the girl was telling the truth. Before this mess, she'd been a responsible student, if not the brightest in the class. To his way of thinking she deserved to pass on attitude alone, though he knew the Board of Regents wasn't going to be interested in her attitude.
"You know you'll have to pass the Regents' Exam in order to be graduated." Mel hated to say that, but the facts were inescapable. "I know," Judy echoed.
"We've still got a week though." Mel tried to sound encouraging. The real reason for Judy's despair, of course, was not the exam. The truth hung between them, thickening the air, and discomfiting them both. Rape. The word seemed to repeat itself inside his head, growing louder and louder each time, until Mel felt that Judy could almost hear it.
"A week isn't very much time," she responded to his last statement.
The answer seemed to present itself to him at that moment with startling clarity. His choice of the word we've was the key to the solution. Without fully realizing it as he spoke, Mel had included himself in Judy's problem and now he felt glad for it.
"I'll tell you what," Mel began, hoping strongly that Judy would take to his idea. "If you're willing to put in a little extra work so you can pass the Regents' Exam, so am I," he said. "Have you an extra hour or two to spend after school?"
"I guess so," she looked directly at him this time, "I don't have to rush home or anything."
"Good," Mel smiled, feeling better himself now to see the girl perk up, no matter how slightly. "Starting tomorrow, then, I'll wait for you inside after the last bell." He nodded toward the classroom. "Let's work together and see what we can accomplish."
"Do you think it'll do any good?" she asked hopefully.
"The only way to find out is to try." Mel smiled kindly. "I'm willing, if you are. After all, what's an hour a day?"
"Okay," Judy smiled briefly.
Mel folded the papers she'd given him and stuck them into his jacket pocket. An unusual feeling of accomplishment had come over him at the sight of the girl's smile. Somehow, all of a sudden, the incident back in the conference room didn't seem so upsetting anymore.
"Do you want me to go back in there, anyhow?" Judy's tone was uncomfortable once more.
"No. That won't be necessary." Mel understood. He could easily imagine the buzzing that must be going on in the classroom at that very moment. He couldn't think of subjecting Judy to the prying, curious glances that would greet her return. "Why don't you go downstairs to the cafeteria and have a sandwich or something until the end of the period?"
He stood watching until Judy had disappeared through the door to the staircase. Then, as he returned to the classroom, Mel wondered what his wife's reaction to this whole situation would be. It saddened him a little to realize that he couldn't predict that, but he'd make sure to find out as soon as he got home, Mel told himself.
That was, if Phyllis was still talking to him.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
The bright afternoon sunlight seemed to bounce up from the pavement and blind her. Judy stood on the steps in front of Marshall High School blinking into the glare. Her instinct told her to run quickly ... to hurry home before the streets became filled with students. Yet the familiar heaviness dragging at her limbs seemed even more tiring today than usual. The doctor had warned her about that, and told her it was nothing to worry about. After what she'd been through, it was only natural to feel tired for a while, he'd said.
Tired? As she repeated the word inside her head, a wry smile reshaped her pretty mouth. That was a laugh, she thought bitterly. She was more than tired ... lifeless was a better way to put it. She was only walking and talking out of habit.
An excited buzz of young voices reached her ears. Judy walked slowly down the school steps, pretending that she hadn't heard what had been said.
"Four boys . .
A small sigh of resignation escaped her lips as Judy tried to forget what she'd just heard. That kind of talk was to be expected in a small town, she thought, trying to adopt a realistic attitude. Besides, she might as well get used to the gossip. Rape was big news. The talk was going to continue for a long time.
"Four boys..."
The words plagued her and their sound seemed to accompany her slow footsteps along the street. Judy saw the blurred image of their faces start to clear in her mind's eye. With all the determination she could muster, she forced the image out of her thoughts and searched frantically for something else to concentrate upon ... something new ... something painless ... something pleasant.
Mister Davis. Now there was a pleasant thought, she told herself, and she felt a small smile hover about the tops of her cheeks. He sure was a nice guy, for a teacher, the way he'd spoken to her and all. If not for him, she would have fallen apart this morning in English class. The exam was absolutely beyond her, but Mister Davis had understood and she liked him.
Judy spotted a familiar figure standing on the corner. Quickening her step, she moved in that direction, eager to catch up with Eddie Mayer, the captain of the football team. A flutter of anticipation quivered beneath her breast as Judy got close enough to notice the way the light blended through Eddie's sandy-colored hair. Strong forearms were tanned from the sun and the broadness of his muscular chest was evident, even beneath the varsity sweatshirt he wore. She could hardly wait to say hello.
"Hello, Judy." He answered her in a stiff, almost formal tone. "How did your English exam go?"
"Fine. Just fine," she lied. What was wrong with Eddie, Judy wondered? They hadn't seen each other for over a week and he was talking about English exams. Why wasn't he offering to take her out for a soda, or for a drive in his car?
Eddie peered nervously to the right and to the left before clearing his throat and forcing a smile. "Well, I'm glad to know that you're better, Judy," he said backing off a little. "See you in school, tomorrow. Okay?"
"Hold on a minute, Eddie, will you?" Judy moved forward closing the distance between them again. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "You're acting as if you're not really glad to see me at all."
"What are you talking about? Don't be silly," Eddie protested.
And Judy knew immediately that he was lying. A vise-like feeling of fear tightened over her chest, and she felt her breathing grow shallow. "Why don't we grab a soda together?" she suggested, working to keep her voice from betraying the panic inside her.
"I'd love to Judy, really I would," Eddie said, looking very nervous and glancing around again, "but I've really got to run. Honest."
"You're lying." Judy listened to her own words as if they'd been spoken by a stranger. The tone of voice was not one she recognized. It was hard ... ice cold ... and filled with hate.
Eddie's glance fell to the sidewalk and his neck darkened. "Okay, so I'm a liar," he answered softly. "What do you want me to do? Fight the whole world?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Judy pleaded. "Since when can't you tell me what's bugging you? We always talked before, didn't we?"
"All right," Eddie said, slowly, "I'll give it to you straight. It's not me, it's my parents."
"Your parents?" Judy echoed, "I don't see what they have to do with anything."
"Well, they ... they just don't want me to see you any more, that's all."
She stared at him, open-mouthed, not quite able to believe what he was saying, unwilling to accept the implications in his words. She'd met Mr. and Mrs. Mayer several times and they'd always been sweet to her. "But I thought they liked me?" she stammered, her tone brimming with emotion.
"They do, Judy," Eddie assured her. "They don't have anything against you, really they don't, just..."
An agonizing, sickening truth curled into tight little dots of nausea throughout her stomach as Judy watched his face redden with shame. Suddenly there could be no doubt about the reason behind his attitude. "They don't want you to go out with a girl who's had it four times, is that it?" she spat. The words were meant to hurt him, but she knew she'd hurt herself more.
"You've got to try and see their point." Eddie diverted his eyes from hers, looking now like a little boy who's been caught at the cookie jar. "You know how people like to talk. My father's been in business in this town all his life, Judy. Neighbors can be very bitchy when they want to put on the pressure."
She felt the fury and the frustration lump in her throat, and she swallowed back her tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was carrying some kind of deadly disease," she rasped. "After all, I really went looking for those four guys. I had myself a wonderful time."
"Nobody said that." Eddie looked absolutely miserable. "Maybe when this whole thing blows over and the gossip dies down..."
Judy felt her body begin to tremble. She wished she were a boy, so she could give Eddie what he deserved right in the jaw. "When this all dies down," she announced, "I'll be the first one to tell you and your family where to go." She turned around and ran from him, tears clouding her vision.
"Please, Judy, don't be like that. You're taking everything all wrong." Eddie was beside her in a few moments. "I can't help it if my folks are a little old-fashioned. They're just trying to do the best thing for me ... what they think is best, that is," he added quickly.
"Have a nice time at the prom," Judy spat, piercing her own heart with the words. "I wouldn't go out with you again if you were the last boy on earth." She crossed the street and hurried away unable to look back ... unable to think about anything except how vicious and mean people could be, when a girl was down.
She spotted the canopy of the soda shop on the next block and headed in that direction. Judy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and encouraged the rebellion she felt beginning to replace her hurt. To hell with them all, she thought, determinedly. She was through with hiding. Yesterday she'd hurried home from school looking straight ahead of her all the way. She'd been deadly afraid to meet anyone, to look into the faces of her friends and see what was written there.
But not today, she repeated, feeling the momentum grow. As of today, she was as good as anybody else. Maybe even better. What had happened certainly wasn't her fault, and if the friends she'd known wanted to give her a rough time, she'd just find others. As she entered the soda shop, she prayed silently that she wouldn't lose her courage.
"Well, hello there, Judy." Frankie, a tall, dark-haired boy seated at the soda bar spun around on his stool and appraised her figure openly. "What brings you down here this afternoon?"
Judy became aware of several faces staring towards them. She knew that the store was small enough for everybody to hear her answer. She wanted them to and they did. "Any reason why I shouldn't be here?" she asked, her tone a challenge. Let anybody say something, she thought. Just one damn word and they'd all be sorry.
"No. No reason at all." The boy held up his hands defensively. "I'm just not used to seeing you here without your shadow."
She smiled with understanding, and shrugged noncommittally. "Oh, Eddie's all right for football games," she cracked, "but I'm not looking to be tied down."
"In that case, how about a malt on me?" He patted the stool next to him, and smiled, in return.
"Sure," Judy sidled over to him and slid onto the seat. "I thought you'd never ask."
Judy sipped her malted only peripherally aware of Frankie's conversation. Inside her, she was still stewing about Eddie. That bastard, she told herself, over and over again. After all the good times they'd had together. And then she remembered their necking sessions out near Moon Lake. She wished she'd had a dollar for every time she had to tell Eddie no, when he'd wanted to go all the way with her. Would that have been all right, she wondered angrily? If he'd been her first, would that have been acceptable? The only conclusion she could reach was that people stank. At least the people she knew.
"Hi, Judy." The greeting was repeated several times.
Judy turned her head and beamed at the new arrivals. The group of boys stood behind them, nodding in a friendly manner and chatting easily with Frankie.
Judy became slightly edgy. This group of boys was a little on the wild side, she knew. Their marks in school were nowhere near hers, and their reputations were very questionable. Ordinarily she wouldn't have bothered with them, not more than a passing hello, and how are you. But now Judy had to admit she was grateful for their attentions, and even a little proud, as she noticed the envious looks of other girls who were seated in booths, or further down the counter without male escorts.
The front door of the shop swung open and Judy's glance darted across the room. Eddie Mayer stood in the doorway. Their eyes met for a brief moment only. Then she watched him walk straight down the aisle toward the group of giggling girls in the last booth.
So he had to go home, did he, Judy thought, furiously. That proved what she'd suspected, that he was just as guilty as his parents. In fact, he agreed with them. He didn't want to be seen with her anymore. She was beneath him now, and for the first time she began to feel like something dirty ... something not to be touched ... something that was all used up.
"What do you say we get out of here?" Frankie suggested in a soft voice close to Judy's ear. "I've got my car outside if you'd like to take a little ride."
"Sounds great," Judy answered spontaneously. If she'd had to beg him she knew she wouldn't have walked out of that soda shop alone. She would show Eddie a thing or two. If he didn't want her, there were at least half-a-dozen boys to replace him. Easily. And he was going to know it, Judy added to herself.
The shiny red jalopy stood gleaming at the curb. Judy slid onto the front seat and waited while Frankie ran around to the driver's side. She felt a little strange as they pulled away from the curb and sped cross-town. She'd never been out with a member of the hot-rod set before.
Still, it felt good to know that somebody was paying attention to her ... somebody wanted to impress her, even if it was only with a loud motor and a lot of nonsensical high-school-kid talk.
Miller's Grain Store appeared on the right, followed shortly by Carter's Crossing Hardware. Then the car hugged the road heading out into the farm lands.
Judy leaned back and let the wind take her hair and toss it about her head. The speed of the car brought a welcome breeze to the smooth flesh of her neck and the burning heat of her cheeks. It was good to get away from town, she thought ... away from accusing eyes and snobbish attitudes. And if it were the last thing she did, she intended to enjoy herself.
"How about a little music?" Frankie clicked on the radio without waiting for an answer.
Judy nodded in time to the rock-and-roll selection he tuned in on and hummed along with the music. She didn't bother to ask where they were going because she really didn't care. A tall, good-looking boy was in control behind the wheel and that was enough for her. If someone cared enough to take her out of Eddie's presence and off for a nice ride, someone didn't think of her as filth, that was enough for now, she decided. And maybe she'd been wrong about Frankie and his friends, after all.
Frankie slowed down the car at a crossroads and turned off onto a narrow, shady road. Judy recognized her surroundings and settled back to enjoy the view. Neat little houses sat about a hundred feet on either side of the pavement, their doors and porches partially hidden by dense shrubbery. Occasionally a dog would bound out onto the road yapping after the car, before giving up in despair and running back toward home.
"I sure am glad you took a ride with me," Frankie said, over the blare of the music. "I wanted to ask you lots of times before, but I didn't have the guts while you were going with Eddie."
"Oh, I wasn't going with him really." Judy knew her wounded pride was the reason behind her lie. "We were just sort of good friends, you might say."
"You mean you would've gone out with me?" Frankie said, smiling and looking very pleased with himself.
"Of course I would have." Judy added a second lie to the first one, shrugging to herself. A girl has to preserve her reputation, she thought, or what was left of it, anyway.
All of a sudden, Frankie stopped the car, off the road and put his arm around Judy's shoulder. "You know I've really been crazy about you for a long time," he whispered, "but a good-looking girl like you probably wouldn't notice somebody like me."
Judy pulled back a little and felt the door-handles dig into her side. "Come on, Frankie, take it easy," Judy ordered. "I'm not going to the moon or anything. We've got lots of time to get to know each other better."
"Oh, come on, honey," he persisted. "What's one little kiss going to matter? I mean, after all..." He stopped abruptly.
And Judy could have killed him. He didn't have to finish the sentence for her to know what he was going to say ... After all, what's one more after you've had four? She finished it for him and the misery choked painfully through her stomach.
"Take me home, please, Frank," she said, her voice suddenly cold and detached. "You've got the wrong idea."
"What do you mean, the wrong idea?" he grinned guiltily, looking very sheepish. "I told you I liked you. What's so terrible about that?"
She was going to tell him, but she knew the words would be too painful to say and to hear again. Frankie's big rush had been only for one reason, and that reason stank to high heaven. "Please," she repeated, "take me home."
"Look, what do you say we make believe this didn't happen?" Frankie sounded genuinely repentant. "If I come by your house tonight, real proper like, will you go out with me?"
"No."
"Aw, come on, Judy, don't be a cube; just because I tried to kiss you."
"That's not the reason," Judy said. "I've kissed boys before." She laughed bitterly as she heard her own words. She'd done a lot with boys before today. The whole town knew that. Lots of whole towns knew it. And she was just wondering if they'd ever forget.
"Look, I know you must be a little touchy," Frank pleaded, feeling very uncomfortable, himself. "Maybe I just went about it in the wrong way, but I do like you a lot. Honest I do. Won't you go out with me just once?"
"We'll see." Judy pointed to the key in the ignition. "Use that, will you please?"
Frankie sighed and started the motor. In a few moments, he'd swung the car around and was speeding back toward town.
"You know where I live, don't you?" Judy asked. "You've got to go back past the school, and then out on Clover Road, beyond the Four Corners."
"I'll find the way," he assured her. "And if I can find it once, I can find it twice. Will you let me?"
"Oh, all right. Call me later. After supper." Judy softened a little. "If I'm free then, and I've finished my studying, I'll let you know."
"Gee, Judy, thanks." Frankie sounded immensely grateful. "I'll show you a good time, I promise."
"Maybe," Judy said, and to herself she wondered if Frankie thought his idea of a good time was hers, too.
Just because she wasn't a virgin, any more.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
The cruel afternoon sun had burned its way into every corner. The classroom was like an oven in which Mel felt he was being roasted alive.
He dropped his pen, wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead and glanced up toward the clock on the back wall. Three-thirty-five. The day was only half gone, he knew, and yet his energy and drive were just about spent.
Sighing tiredly, he lit a cigarette and glanced down at the pile of unmarked test papers on top of his desk. The realization of how much work he still had to do weighted his arms and made him yawn loudly. Damp patches of clothing stuck to his skin and he felt his attention drifting uncontrollably toward the treetops outside the window. It was no use, Mel told himself. He might as well pack up and go home.
Home to what, he asked himself testily, as Phyllis's stony expression appeared in his mind's eye. Another fight? The usual impasse? And suddenly, the air turned thicker and hotter than before.
Mel pushed aside such rebellious thoughts, stuffed the test papers quickly into his briefcase and dragged himself toward the door. The familiar corridor of Marshall High School was empty and the youthful vitality of students who had passed through earlier seemed to haunt the dimly-lit hallway.
Mel became suddenly aware of a feeling of loneliness. An unusual, nagging ache spread through his chest and throbbed at the back of his skull. A perverse desire to shake off the life he'd been leading and to burst forward into some exciting, uncharted course of existence made him tremble with fear for himself. What the hell was happening to him, he admonished himself, silently. He was supposed to be a grown man with a sense of responsibility. How could he even think of deserting his family, and position?
Some family, he thought disgustedly, hearing Phyllis's reproaching voice just as though she were there, yelling right into his ear. Still, that woman was the sum and substance of all his living relatives. Without her, he was an orphan in the world. And with her...
The steps in front of the school seemed to tilt at a giddy angle before him. Mel blinked and looked quickly away from the glare of the white marble. It was too damned hot to let his problems get the best of him, he warned himself. What he needed was a cool dip in Moon Lake. That would straighten him out. And with the anticipation of miles of icy water to encourage him, Mel felt his footsteps grow lighter as they carried him toward his car.
The motor of the ancient Chevy coughed complainingly to life beneath patient reapplication of his right foot to the accelerator. Mel steered out into the road and leaned over to turn on the radio. A blaring rock-and-roll song jarred him and he pushed the tuning buttons quickly in search of some soft music.
"And now for a quick wrap-up of local news..."
Mel silenced the newscaster with an angry movement of his thumb and forefinger. He knew without having to listen what the man was going to say. No progress yet in apprehending the gang of boys that assaulted young Judy Baker of Carter's Crossing last week...
Just the idea of it was enough to send his pulse pounding violently across his temples. Mel clenched his teeth and stepped down hard on the gas as an uncontrollable shudder spiraled along his spine. The same thing happened every time he thought about it ... That soft young, blonde girl, helpless and terrified before her captors. He could envision it as clearly as if he'd been there himself, watching it all happen. Her blue eyes, damp and wide with panic ... her white flesh exposed and pawed by rough, cruel fingers ... her arms and legs flailing the air wildly, just before...
The loud squeal of brakes snapped him back to his senses and sent a pang of fear knifing through his chest. Mel turned toward the sound, just in time to recognize one of his students. The young driver of the other car nodded curtly and drove off in the other direction, obviously choking down his angry words.
Come on now, snap out of it, Mel warned himself, as he drove on at a slower pace, paying careful attention to the road ahead. This daydreaming business was getting out of hand, he realized. Lately, it seemed that his mind was grasping every possible opportunity to wander from situations requiring his full attention. A habit like that could result in serious trouble.
The small frame house looked whiter than usual in the glare of the sun. Mel dismissed a sudden urge to ride past and steered the car into a narrow, gravel driveway. The short-cropped lawn and the evenly-spaced forsythia bushes implied a state of order and organization that he'd once believed to be his. Now, Mel had to admit that he knew better. Phyllis was always one to keep up appearances for the neighbors. On the outside of their house as well as their marriage, everything looked spotless and in harmony. All the skeletons were well hidden from public view.
For how long though, Mel wondered, as he shut off the motor and glanced around for some sign of his wife. "Phyllis?"
Mel waited expectantly beside the car for a few moments, eager to hear her voice acknowledging his presence. When no answer came, he hurried around the house toward the back yard.
The empty lawn chairs and tables stood, abandoned to the ravages of the afternoon sun. Mel stared at the flower-printed chaise-longue, with a slightly stupefied expression across his face. He'd fully expected to find her there, covered with oil and sunning herself. Oblivious to the world. Oblivious to anything except her own immediate comfort as she bronzed her naked flesh and sipped her vile mixture of gin and tonic.
Now, for the first time, her absence carried as much impact as her presence. An icy hand of fear clutched at Mel's gut, knotting his insides painfully.
"Phyllis, where are you?"
He ran for the back door and lunged at the knob. It wouldn't budge. The lock held fast. "Phyllis, I'm home. Let me in."
Mel pounded the door with his fist. Then he stood, breathing heavily and speculating as to the workings of his wife's mind.
No, she wouldn't lock him out, he decided. Not even if she were still carrying last night's anger around with her. Phyllis was self-centered, but not spiteful. She probably hadn't heard him come home, that was all.
A little calmer now, Mel ran around to the front door and tried the knob, there. It, too, was locked against him. He raised a trembling hand to the doorbell and tried to ignore the horrible thoughts rioting through his brain. Where could she have gone in the middle of a weekday afternoon? Phyllis had no car and didn't socialize with the local women. Ever since he'd brought her home to Carter's Crossing as his bride she'd felt only disdain and contempt for the townspeople. They were beneath her. She wanted no part of them and she'd kept very much to herself during the past two years.
He pulled out his housekey and fought to get it into the lock. A sensation of impending tragedy loomed near and set his brain reeling with frightening imagery. The most horrible possibilities occurred to him, one upon another, crashing through his mind and echoing spasmodically through his body.
Flinging the door wide open, he burst into the living-room and looked wildly around him. All the shades had been drawn closed and the dim silence rose to meet him, grotesque and mocking.
"Phyllis!"
The only answer was the hollow sound of the front door, slamming shut behind him.
The panic grew stronger and harder to keep under control. Mel tossed his keys onto the dining room table as he ran past and up the stairs toward the bedrooms. He checked them all, afraid of what he might find, yet unable to keep himself away from the truth ... whatever it might be. She was nowhere. Desperate, he ran back to their room and pulled open the door to Phyllis's closet.
A tremendous sense of relief eased through him. Her clothes were all in order. And suddenly he felt foolish. Obviously, Phyllis hadn't left him. Of that one fact he could be reasonably sure. She wasn't about to take off without her wardrobe to accompany her. Not the way Phyllis felt about clothing.
He was still staring at the display of expensive dresses when he heard the sound of tires rolling over the gravel driveway. Mel glanced toward the window wondering if he'd heard correctly. He couldn't imagine who might be coming to visit him at this time of day. Maybe Walter, he thought, coming to check up on him and see whether he'd cooled off since this morning. And suddenly, Mel remembered that he'd completely forgotten about meeting his friend after school.
He walked to the window just in time to see a long, shiny yellow convertible roll to a stop in front of the door. He leaned forward to get a better view just as a tall, statuesque woman with immaculately-groomed auburn hair slid out on the driver's side.
It was Phyllis.
Mel raced for the bedroom door and ran all the way down to the first floor. An uncomfortable suspicion began to nibble at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside, allowing his intense relief at her return to monopolize the foreground of his thinking. She was home at last. She hadn't deserted him, after all. Life could go on.
"Well, hello there. You're a little early, aren't you?" She smiled self-consciously as she opened the screen door.
"It was too hot to mark papers in school," Mel answered. "Where were you? I didn't know what to think."
He fought to keep his tone from betraying the torture he'd just gone through, but the sound he heard told him that he'd failed, miserably.
And now, Phyllis would probably laugh at him and tell him what a fool he was. Again. As if he didn't know.
"Sometimes you're so silly, Mel." A light sound rippled up behind the cluster of pearls at her throat. "You're going to be gray before your time if you keep this up."
His suspicion rose within him again, and Mel knew he couldn't suppress his question a minute longer. "Whose car have you got out there?" he asked, in a brittle crackling tone. Then he steeled himself to hear the worst ... the answer that would confirm his most horrible fear. The words that would announce that Phyllis had a lover.
"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" she said, her voice artificially bright ... her coy manner clearly forced.
"Of course I noticed it," he snapped. What was she trying to do, he screamed silently, drive him clear out of his mind? Destroy him altogether and then walk out, chuckling over the corpse?
"Come on outside and take a good look at it," she coaxed. "I've been dying to show it off to somebody for the past hour." And with that she pushed open the screen door and walked back outside.
Mel followed quickly after her, violence giving new life to his step. Phyllis was too happy. Too pleased with herself. Something was up. Undoubtedly something that he wasn't going to enjoy.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" she sighed, patting a fender of the convertible with loving fingers. "Suits me, don't you think?"
"I asked you whose it is," Mel repeated, between clenched teeth. Why was she teasing him like that? Didn't the woman have any heart at all?
"Whose do you think it is?" she asked casually. "It's mine, of course. I don't go around borrowing cars from other people."
"Yours?" Mel's jaw dropped open. "But where did you get the money..."
"Where do you think?" Phyllis exhaled in exasperation. "My father, naturally. Where else would I get it?"
The implication in her final sentence hung poignantly in the silence between them. Mel felt the bile rise through his insides and every fibre of his being vibrate with urgent, basic protest.
"I thought we'd agreed not to take any more money from him," he said, weakly, even though something inside advised him to let well enough alone ... to be grateful she'd come home to him, and not start any more trouble.
"Oh, come on, Mel," Phyllis sighed disgustedly, brushing an invisible piece of dirt from the black leather upholstery. "What's a couple of thousand to dad? He's got that and plenty more. What else has he got to do with the dough anyway? I'm an only child, remember?"
"That's not the point." Mel knew he was fighting a losing battle, but to stop trying seemed to guarantee a servility he could never accept. "Couldn't you have waited a little longer until we could have afforded a new car on our own? Or at least said something to me? I didn't even know you wanted one."
Phyllis dismissed his argument with an impatient gesture of her right hand. "If I'd waited for you, I'd still be walking," she muttered. "Anyway, it's done. So there's no point in arguing about it." Suddenly she brightened visibly. "Would you like to take a ride?"
Mel felt his eyes bulge with fury. For a moment, he pictured himself grabbing Phyllis by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her ... or beating some understanding through that beautiful head. His fingers itched with the need to strike out and make physical contact. Violent, avenging physical contact that might free the blinding rage from his body.
"Well, do you want to go for a spin or don't you?"
His shoulders slouched as the fight went out of him. What was the use? She didn't give a damn about what he was feeling. She had her new toy and that's all that mattered. Her husband was an old toy, whose novelty had long since worn off.
Without a word, Mel turned and walked into the house. The dimness in the shaded rooms seemed to intensify the emptiness and futility he felt. For a second, he considered giving vent to that violence and smashing everything in the room ... lamps, tables, china. Crash! Crash! Crash! Loud noise and swift action to prove to Phyllis and to himself, mostly, that he wasn't invisible.
No, that wouldn't do, Mel realized. Phyllis would only sneer and hand him a bill for the damages. There had to be another way.
The glint from his key ring caught Mel's eye. Eager for escape, he grabbed the keys and stormed back out into the driveway just as Phyllis was reluctantly leaving her car to come inside.
"Change your mind about that ride?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, girlishly.
"Go to hell, Phyllis," Mel said softly, on the way to his own car.
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
Out in the road tires squealed above the roar of an engine as Frankie floored the accelerator and sped his car away. Judy slammed the fence gate closed and hurried up the path toward the house, barely able to keep her temper in check. Thank goodness he's gone, she thought gratefully. Another moment in Frankie's company, and she felt sure she would have told him what she really thought of him.
A swarm of flies buzzing around the screen door made her glance skyward. Judy wasn't surprised to see that the day had clouded over quickly. Another hour at most and it was going to rain. Just as well, she thought absently. The world needed to cool off.
"Anybody home?" she called, as she stepped into the living room and gazed through a dim silence. No answer. A glance at the tarnished clock on top of the old upright piano told her why. Five-forty-five. Her mother wouldn't be home from work for at least another twenty minutes.
Judy poured a glass of milk, and tried to convince herself that Frankie wasn't important enough to ruin her day.
Yet despite this logic, her anger remained, bubbling just beneath the surface of her mood. And every time it seemed as if she might calm down, her fury was recharged as the memory of Eddie's hypocrisy returned to add to her unrest.
Was this the way it was always going to be, she wondered, forcing the last of the milk down past her tight, parched throat. Were the nice guys going to steer clear of her like poison, while the riff-raff lined up for what they figured was an easy conquest? The notion of such a bleak future made her tremble, and sent her hurrying out of the room.
Six o'clock ... six-fifteen...
Judy paced through the downstairs rooms of the house and fought to keep herself from biting her nails. A tingling nervousness made her jumpy and sent her rushing to the front windows every few minutes. Outside the sky was almost black and an ominous wind whipped the leaves back and forth in the trees. The smell of oncoming rain filled the air, and the earth seemed oddly still and bleak as if waiting for something terrible to happen. She turned away from the depressing sight and wished her mother would hurry. She didn't feel like being alone any more. Especially not today when everything seemed to be working against her.
The telephone rang. Judy jumped, startled by the sound, and then ran for the kitchen. By the time she lifted the receiver, a smile had inched across her face, brightening her features a little. The thought of speaking to someone ... anyone, was a welcome relief.
"Hello, Judy. Have you had supper yet?"
"Of course not." She answered her mother's question, and the smile disappeared. "I've been waiting for you to come home. What's up?"
"I'm sorry, dear..."
Eve Baker's voice contained that familiar note of tension. "I'm going to have to work overtime today. Mister Bixby just got a whole new shipment of perfumes in, and it has to be checked out and put on the shelves."
Judy knew her mother was lying. "Can't it be done tomorrow?" she whined, aware that her words were futile when mom had a date. Nothing short of flash floods could deter the woman.
"No, dear. It can't be put off." Her voice was sweet, too sweet to be taken seriously. "You know Mister Bixby-likes the stock put out right away. It won't take more than a couple of hours at most. You'll be all right till then, won't you?"
The lack of perception in her mother's words killed Judy's need for the woman's company. "Sure, I'll be just fine," she said sourly, making a nasty face at the phone. "Don't you worry about me. Just have yourself a good time." She slammed the receiver down in its cradle, and stormed across the kitchen. A mixture of anger and hurt choked up through her throat and numbed her brain. What was it, Judy asked herself. Why was everybody giving her a hard time? Could that one horrible night have changed everything? Was she so different now that nobody gave a damn?
Her heart seemed to be pounding in time with her footsteps, as she ran up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Breathing heavily, Judy walked across to the far side of the bed, and stood glaring back at her own reflection in the mirror. Was there really a difference there, or was she just imagining it? Judy stepped a little closer, appraising herself questioningly. A little trickle of fear wandered through her chest as she observed what she felt sure was a change ... mostly around the eyes, she decided. They seemed hard ... no, dull ... or was it just fright and worry reflected there?
Judy lowered her glance reluctantly. And for the first time since she'd awakened in the police station, she allowed herself to contemplate along that forbidden line of thought. A profound ache rammed through her and she forced herself to bear the pain that accompanied the memory. They had used her body. All of her had been exposed and violated. Would that show also? Was it already obvious to those who saw her, those who had known her before it happened? In the way she carried herself, perhaps? Or in the way she walked?
The fingers of her right hand strayed to the top button of her blouse and Judy began to undress, the same way she'd done a dozen times during the week. This time, though, she was going to look, she told herself. Even if it hurt, she was going to see personally what scars the boys had left for her to carry. She was going to inspect every inch. Just the way they had, she added, shuddering. And once and for all she would know.
As the last button of her blouse came open, Judy looked away. No, not this time, she screamed inwardly. She was tired of hiding from the truth. She was sick of cowering at what she might find and cringing before the sight of her own body. It was time to put an end to being a coward, and to look at herself. No matter what she might see when she did.
Unsteady fingers loosened the zipper of her skirt and coaxed the material down over the roundness of her hips. Judy side-stepped away from the circle of cloth around her ankles and slipped off her loafers. Despite the nervousness building inside her, she bent over and cross-armed the pink slip up above her head.
Dressed only in her bra and panties, she walked hesitantly back to face her image in the glass. Eyes narrow with intensity, Judy stared ahead of her scrutinizing every inch of exposed flesh for some visible evidence of what had happened.
Her firm pink breasts pressed out against the thin material of her bra. She leaned slightly forward to inspect a small black and blue mark, visible just above the top of the undergarment. Nothing really to worry about, she decided, as she reached behind her for the clasps. Bruises like that would disappear with time. Other results concerned her more ... like the inescapable fact that she was no longer a virgin.
Twin mounds of silken flesh tumbled into view as her brassiere slipped noiselessly down over her arm and to the floor. Judy cupped her breasts in her hands, aware of a sudden surging sensation rising in her flesh. She watched, as though hypnotized while the soft points of her nipples darkened slightly, and rose to hard, throbbing points of awareness. This had happened before, she tried to console herself. Yet she knew the feeling had never been so strong ... so intense. Was it because she was no longer a child, she asked herself? Was it possible that an act over which she had no control had changed her suddenly into a woman, with a woman's needs, and a woman's desires?
A wild, uncontrollable force guided her fingers down over the flat expanse of her belly, until they knotted around the waistband of her thin panties. Judy winced as the contact touched off a painful reminder along a sensitive area of flesh. She remembered, then, how the dark-haired boy had dug his fingers into her skin as he'd tugged the shorts from her body.
Suddenly her knees began to quake, and she wondered if perhaps, it was time to stop ... to put an end to her morbid curiosity. But a stronger, unfamiliar need was dictating her movements now ... guiding her hands down around her hips until her panties lay discarded at her feet with the rest of her clothing. Judy pressed her fingertips to the ivory columns of her thighs and caressed the soft white flesh there. Despite the tortuous thoughts within her, she was able to look at herself fully in the glass. To her great relief, the view was pleasing. She looked fine. The same as before. Nothing had changed. At least nothing that was visible in the mirror.
Still there was a difference about her. Judy felt it in the way her skin responded to her own touch ... and in the way her flesh seemed to leap to life beneath the soft caress of her trembling hands. The memory of words spoken long ago reminded her that what she felt now was wrong, but Judy couldn't help herself. Suddenly there was no denying the need that made itself known with pulsating, agonizing insistence. Whether or not she liked it, she was a woman now, and as such, she must be satisfied.
She moved soundlessly backward until she felt the edge of the mattress pressing against her calves. Breathing quickly, Judy moved onto the bed, as uncontrollable waves of delight and shame mingled through her and made the room spin. Suddenly she knew what it was she had been fighting all week. A feeling she would continue to live with long after the black-and-blue marks had faded...
The sound reached her, grating on Judy's nerves and freezing her into stillness. At first she refused to believe it, but the insistent ringing told her it was true. Muttering angrily, she hurried off the bed and ran naked to answer the telephone.
Maybe it was her mother, again, she tried to encourage herself, as she padded barefoot down the stairs. Maybe the woman had reconsidered and decided to come home after all. They could have dinner together then, and she wouldn't have to spend the evening alone. In that case, Judy decided, she would happily forgive the woman for the previous phone call. By the time she reached the kitchen, she was breathless and worried that the phone would stop ringing. Judy leaned across the table and yanked the receiver off the hook, ignoring the discomforting awareness that her breasts hung naked and in full view.
"Hello," she breathed into the receiver, trying to sound cheerful.
The voice that answered did not belong to her mother or anyone else she knew. It was hoarse, masculine, and strangely tight. "Judy?" it asked softly. "Am I speaking to Judy Baker?"
"Yes," Judy answered as a look of questioning etched deep furrows across her brow. She tried again to place the voice. It seemed much older than any of her friends, and not at all like the men her mother went out with. "Who is this, please?" she finally asked.
"I ... I'm a friend, Judy dear." The tone was softer now, slick and oily.
"Friend?" She didn't want to sound disrespectful, even though she doubted the man. "I guess you want to speak to mom, then. She's not home now."
"No, Judy. It's you I want to speak to," he continued. "You see, I was just listening to the radio, and they still haven't found those boys yet ... the boys that raped you in the woods, that is."
Her jaw dropped, and a sharp finger of pain seared through her lungs. She gasped once, and stood stone-still, shocked into a panicked silence. She heard a low, intimate laugh, and she shuddered as if the man were breathing close up to her ear.
"I'm very curious about little girls like you," the man continued. "It seems a shame what they did, don't you think? Tell me about it, Judy," he went on, "It was terrible, wasn't it? The radio said there were four or five boys. Was that true? Did they attack you all at once, Judy? Did it hurt a lot..."
She sank onto a kitchen chair, clutching the telephone with damp hands. Her eyes widened and she could hardly believe what the man was saying. The things she heard made her insides roll with disgust and fear.
"Come on, tell me about it," he begged, in a coaxing tone of voice. "You can tell me. Was it really the first time for you? Is it true that you tried to fight them off, but they ripped your clothing away? Did they rip all your clothes, Judy? Did they say anything?"
The voice faded into a blur. Judy stared straight ahead, not really listening. Occasionally an obscene word jolted her, and made her cringe. She looked down, horrified at the sight of her nakedness. Instinctively she moved to cover her bare breasts, as if the man could see her ... as if he were right there witnessing her shame and humiliation.
All at once, her faculties returned. With a soft, anguished cry, Judy banged the phone down, the man's words still ringing in her ears. Her arms and legs quaked with a life of their own, and she sat very still, afraid she was going to be sick.
"Oh, my God," she heard herself repeat the words over and over in a tone that brought her back to that horrible night. Her head pounded and her skull felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it.
Judy tightened her fingers around the edge of the kitchen table and pushed herself slowly to her feet. Tears clouded her vision as she stumbled through the downstairs rooms and dragged herself up toward her bedroom. This wasn't possible. People like that couldn't live in her home town. Weirdoes like that man couldn't belong where she'd grown up.
And suddenly it seemed that no place was safe anymore.
She locked the door to her room and hurried into her clothing. Hugging herself tightly, she stood at the side of the window, gazing out toward the front of the house, afraid to be seen ... praying for a glimpse of her mother, or anybody she knew.
She thought about running outside, down the road to the nearest neighbor. But the idea that maybe he was out there ... that the stranger on the phone might be waiting for her somewhere in the woods, sent her whirling across the room, and sobbing into her pillow. Her eyes began to burn, and Judy wiped them quickly with the back of her hand. Despite her better judgment, she found herself glancing around the room, peering into corners. Suddenly the evening shadows seemed longer with human shapes and menacing attitudes.
The telephone rang, again, and Judy's shrill scream overshadowed the sound. She wanted to answer it ... to hear a friendly voice, and yet she was too terrified to move. What if it was that man again? What if he was going to utter more filth for her to hear? The phone kept ringing, despite her thoughts. Judy forced herself up off the bed and moved determinedly out of the room. She had to take that chance, she realized. Her need to hear a familiar voice was too strong to allow this opportunity to pass. She ran the rest of the way back to the kitchen.
"Hi, Judy. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." Frankie's voice was friendly and animated.
Judy choked down the tears that rose to accompany her immense relief. "Oh Frankie, I'm so glad to hear from you," she whispered sincerely.
"You are?" He sounded pleasantly surprised. "You sure have changed your tune in a couple of hours."
Judy opened her mouth to tell him what had happened, but stopped herself before she'd said a word. She couldn't bring herself to repeat what had been said to her, especially to a boy.
"So what about tonight?" he continued, oblivious to her state. "You gonna be tied up, or what?"
Judy remembered her homework, then, but dismissed the idea instantly. She also remembered the anger she'd felt earlier, because of Frankie's attitude toward her. But the immediacy of his voice, and the thought of staying alone in that house for one more minute settled the matter in her mind.
"How soon can you get over here?" she asked.
"Ten minutes, if you like," he said confidently. "My wheels are pretty fast, you know."
"All right then. Come ahead," she told him, ignoring the nagging voice of her better judgment.
And as she hung up the phone, a strange feeling told her she'd just jumped from the frying pan right into the fire.
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
The heavy red sun was on its way out of sight behind a mountain on the other side of the lake. Mel lay face down with his head buried in the crook of his arm, and curled his toes deeper into the warm sand. A cool breeze blew across his naked shoulders and he stirred irritably. From the comfortable darkness beneath his elbow, he listened to the sounds around him and frowned. A glaring absence of young voices told him the children had gone home, and he knew there could only be one reason.
He took a deep breath and sighed into the blanket. He didn't feel ready to face the evening yet, and least of all the night that must follow. Lying there beside the water with the sun baking his flesh hour after hour, he'd been lulled into an illusion of safety. With the sun beating down upon the back of his neck, he'd grown drowsy and secure in the feeling that this languid state could go on forever ... that he could simply hide out near the lake and leave the discomforts of home and Phyllis back in Carter's Crossing.
Almost like going AWOL, he thought. But time had caught up with him, he added bitterly, and very soon now, he'd have to face the music. Yawning loudly, he rolled over onto his back and let the tiny grains of sand spill down the sides of his body. Above him, an endless expanse of blue sky made him feel irrevocably trapped, and in his own small corner of the world.
Until Phyllis came into his life, he'd never known such thoughts, Mel reminded himself sadly. Carter's Crossing had always meant the familiarity and warmth of home. When his parents were alive they'd known just about everybody in town, and the kitchen door banged regularly with the comings and goings of neighbors and friends.
Now the house where he lived was silent, except for Phyllis's voice and an occasional ringing of the telephone. It was almost hard to believe this was the same town, Mel thought, dully. It wasn't difficult to recognize Phyllis's haughty attitude. People knew when they weren't welcome.
A demoralizing sense of futility impelled Mel toward action. Getting quickly to his feet, he brushed the sand from his bathing trunks and started walking toward the lake. The shallow water rippled placidly around his ankles, and its coolness, in contrast with the lingering heat on his flesh shocked him into alertness. He knew it was long past time to be heading home, but he continued deeper into the lake. Maybe he should have called, Mel told himself. He was acting like a kid, running away from home like this. What if Phyllis was worried? What if supper became overcooked and cold before his return?
No. He was flattering himself, Mel admitted glumly. Phyllis wasn't the type to fuss over a hot stove on a day such as this. Not when there were things like new cars and frozen foods in her life.
The energy of his anger sent him flying forward and splashing below the surface of the lake. Mel opened his eyes and swam through the clear water close to the bottom. It was even colder down there, and he had to move quickly to keep from shivering. But he liked it. It made him feel alive and vital again. It was good to move freely. He surfaced and headed for a white raft bobbing about a hundred and fifty feet from shore. He cut through the water cleanly and swiftly, the master of a powerful stroke, and skillful coordination. In a few minutes, his right hand closed around the rung of a wooden ladder, and he climbed quickly up above the surface of the lake.
She was laying motionless on the far side of the raft. A smooth, tanned forearm shielded her eyes from the light, and her long silken hair seemed to flow in russet waves over her shoulders. Mel stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the lovely supine figure in front of him. Her slow, even breathing led him to believe she was asleep, and he took his time to gaze the length of her bikini-clad body, pausing with admiration at the sight of long thighs, exquisitely rounded hips and half-bared breasts that sent a warmth of color glowing up his neck.
"How's the water?" she asked, in a soft, melodious tone of voice, without bothering to move her arm or look at him.
"Fine. Just fine." He cleared his throat and shifted his weight nervously. "Nice and cold near the bottom. But you have to brace yourself."
"Not me," she answered, bending one knee slowly up from the painted slats of wood.
Mel couldn't keep his eyes from traveling down to the roundness of a well-shaped calf and smooth shin. An irritating twitch grew stronger around his solar plexus, and he had to consciously resist an overwhelming urge to cup his hand to the inviting softness of her inner thigh. It was as if something inside his brain were suddenly turned loose allowing his thoughts to flow without inhibition or discipline. A dozen images galloped through his mind and with something close to the intensity of his adolescence he saw himself overpowering this beautiful creature, and satisfying the needs that rocketed violently now through his every pore.
"Come out to Moon Lake often?" Mel asked, in an unusually chipper tone of voice, "or are you just up here for the summer?"
"I've been coming out every afternoon since the middle of May," she said, suddenly stretching her arms and raising herself to a sitting position. "Just as soon as school's out, I fly over here. That's how I got my tan started so early. It'll be even better next week, when the term's over..."
Mel's eyes widened and his mouth went dry with the horror of awareness. She kept right on sneaking, but he hardly heard a word. Now that her arm no longer hid her features, it was obvious to see that he'd been having his lascivious thoughts over a mere schoolgirl. She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, despite her well-developed body. He could easily imagine her long shining hair pulled up into a pony-tail, and he felt the color drain from his face as he remembered the ideas he'd been harboring with regard to this precocious youngster. A jolt of panic seized him and he felt the raft begin to tilt sickeningly. What if she had been one of his students, he asked himself. What if Moon Lake weren't far enough away from Carter's Crossing to be out of the local high school district? What if he'd been flirting with the teen-age daughter of one of his parents' old acquaintances?
The girl kept right on talking, it seemed, even as Mel turned and dove head first off the raft. The icy water wasn't able to wash away his enormous sense of guilt, and he swam as far as he could before making for the surface. As soon as he'd gulped a mouthful of air, he struck out for shore, stroking as quickly as he could. The sound of her voice still rang in his ears and he felt that he wouldn't have had the nerve to turn around, even if his life depended on it.
What must that kid be thinking of him, he wondered, as his feet touched bottom and he dragged his body in the direction of the blanket. It didn't really matter what she thought, he tried to console himself. Luckily they were still strangers. She hadn't the slightest idea who he was or where he lived, but still he couldn't shake the feeling of having made a narrow escape. Mostly, from himself.
Why ? He kept repeating as he scooped up his belongings and draped the towel over his arm. What kind of a nut was he turning into lately? A normal man of thirty didn't go around panting over sixteen year old schoolgirls. This wasn't like him. Something inside was confused. He was getting all messed up, and there was only one reason he could come up with to explain this grotesque degeneration...
Phyllis.
Mel tossed the blanket, along with his other things onto the back seat of the car, and walked barefooted around to the driver's side. Gritting his teeth stubbornly, he turned the key in the ignition and swung the automobile around toward home. Enough running, he told himself, decisively. It was time to make a stand. He'd taken a lot of crap from Phyllis these past couple of years, but he was still a man. Her father's money couldn't take that away from him, and he'd be damned if he'd let her attitude turn him into a piece of limp toast. A showdown was long overdue.
He eased the pressure of his foot on the accelerator, anxious for some extra time during which to build up his momentum. Memories of the many times he'd been intimidated by Phyllis's domineering ways embarrassed him, even though he was alone. Today they were going to have it out, once and for all, he promised himself. A man couldn't survive if he had to live like a mouse in his own home.
Her long, yellow convertible gleamed defiantly at him before the front door. Mel swung his car into the driveway and smiled faintly at the notion of smashing into one of those shiny new fenders. That wouldn't be necessary, he decided confidently. He'd do all his smashing inside the house where the enemy really was. He'd deal with his wife personally.
She didn't answer him when he called her name from the living room. Mel listened carefully until he heard soft footsteps, just as he'd expected, in the bedroom overhead.
So she was pouting, was she, he thought as he took the stairs two at a time. Well that routine wasn't going to cut any ice with him anymore. Phyllis was no longer a child to be spoiled and indulged by overly-zealous parents. The money to burn was theirs, not hers. And it was high time someone made those simple facts of life clear to her.
He reached for the bedroom doorknob, and tried to turn it. He wasn't surprised to find that Phyllis had it locked. "Phyllis, it's me. Let me in," he called impatiently.
A slight muffled movement on the other side of the door was his only reply. Mel tightened the fingers of his right hand into a fist and pounded loudly on the wood. The sound echoed through the top floor of the house, and the door shook violently as if it might crack. "I said 'let me in,'" he yelled.
Quick footsteps hurried to the other side of the door and a moment later the lock was released. Phyllis just stood there, glaring murderously.
"It's one thing to have a lousy temper, but you don't have to break the house down," she spat. Then she turned her back and walked over to her dressing table.
Mel leaned against the wooden molding of the doorway and watched her retreat with new interest and perspective. He stood motionless observing how the thin material of Phyllis's housecoat clung to her hips and outlined the roundness of her thighs. It didn't look as if she were wearing any underwear and the thought of her naked, succulent flesh just beneath that pattern of roses diluted the intensity of his purpose. Only for a few moments, though. Then he remembered whom he was dealing with, and what had to be done.
"I wouldn't have had to pound on the door if you'd answered me the first time." He picked up the line of conversation and walked into the room, closing the door softly behind him.
"I've given up answering you," she said, as she seated herself before the dressing table, and started to stroke her hair with a pearl-handled brush. "It doesn't pay. You're unreasonable."
"I'm unreasonable," he echoed, choking down an urge to knock that hairbrush out of her hand and pound some sense into that pretty head. "You are the one who ran to your father crying for help. I manage to get along without expensive cars."
"You manage to get along without civilization as well," she commented dryly, aiming a disdainful expression at him by way of her mirror. "If it were up to you, I'd spend another couple of years rotting away in this house without ever getting out past the front yard."
"If you wanted a car, you should have asked me," he said, tiredly. "I would have managed something for you. I always do."
"You can hardly manage for yourself," she said. "And what would you have done? Picked up some old jalopy from one of your kids? I can see me now stuck someplace in the middle of a dirt road, trying to paste a motor back together again with hairpins."
This was impossible. Mel felt the life begin to drain out of him, as an enormous vision of futility blocked out his would-be self-image. "You should have taken all of that into consideration years ago," he said softly, "before we got married. I told you the going would be rough. Schoolteachers don't earn a fortune."
"But it doesn't have to be rough." She turned around and faced him squarely, a hint of pleading altering the angry set of her features. "Dad still has that position open for you. He's been holding it ever since we got married, just waiting for you to come to your senses, and see things realistically."
"So he's still on your team, is he?" Mel thought back to the first time he'd refused the offer from Phyllis's father. He'd explained then that he wasn't cut out to be the branch manager of anything, let alone a furniture factory. The man had been very polite about it, as if he really understood. Now Mel realized they'd all just been biding their time, waiting for their daughter's influence to wear away his set of values.
"For crying out loud, Mel, why can't you look at this sensibly?" she continued, "What's the point of counting pennies when there are so many dollars close-by? It isn't as if you're taking the food out of somebody else's mouth, you know? There's more than enough to go around."
"Don't remind me," he snapped. "I'm not impressed. If you intend to make a go of this marriage, you're just going to have to learn to live on my income. That's all there is to it."
"Oh?" Phyllis arched an eyebrow and reached for a cigarette. "I didn't realize it had come down to ultimatums. But if that's the way you feel, I'm sure I can learn to adjust to it. Getting out of this hick town would undoubtedly be a pleasure ... with or without you."
Her words seemed to turn into little needles in the air, sticking his flesh, and blinding him with pain. There was no room in her answer for misinterpretation, Mel realized. She'd meant what she said. She could get along without him. Easily.
"Oh, come on, don't make a federal case out of this." He sat down on the bed, feeling terribly alone, and shaken. "We're both adults. Why can't we work something out?"
"That's just the point I've been trying to make." Phyllis took a long drag on her cigarette and relaxed visibly. "Every time I try and talk to you, you run off like a little boy. Take this afternoon, for instance, where have you been?"
"I went swimming," Mel said softly, unable to meet her gaze, and feeling somewhat silly. The sensation that his desires were irrelevant in the course his life would take made itself known to him. Yet he felt helpless to rectify things. He just couldn't let Phyllis walk out that door. If that happened, he'd never be able to snatch her away again from her family's big-city life and luxury.
"You went swimming," Phyllis repeated with a smile, sounding strangely benevolent. "Now if you wanted to go for a dip, why couldn't you just tell me?" She rose from her chair and crossed the distance between them in three steps. "You behave as if I'm some kind of a witch you have to hide from. Is that the way you feel?" She cradled his head and drew his cheek to the sweet softness beneath her breast.
"You know I don't." He melted against her, breathing deeply of the expensive perfume that clung to her clothes. Without bothering to question whether or not he was signing his own death warrant, Mel wrapped his arms around Phyllis's waist and hung on tightly. "Nothing's changed in the way I feel about you."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that," she chuckled. "We've been at each other's throats for so long I was beginning to wonder."
"If you'd only try and understand," he said, knowing the attempt was doomed to failure, even as he spoke the words. "How do you expect a guy to be able to live with himself, when his wife keeps making him feel he's not good enough for her?"
"Come on, now, let's have no more of that kind of talk." Phyllis ran her scarlet nails through the disorder of his hair. "I only want what's best for us. Can't you believe that?"
Mel nodded and sighed resignedly. It was no use. He couldn't get through to her. What was the sense in beating his brains out against a stone wall? Especially when she was this close. Closer, it seemed, than she had been for a very long time. Mel inhaled slowly, counting on the musky sweetness of perfume and woman-flesh to intoxicate his senses. The provocative closeness of her thickened his brain and began to spin him slowly toward a blurred state of sensual abandon.
He closed his eyes and murmured softly as she stroked the back of his head and massaged her fingertips deeply into the nape of his neck. This is what he needed, he told himself, desperately trying to believe that all would turn out for the best. Here before him was the only available escape route for the present. As he unlocked his fingers from the small of her back and cupped his palms to the supple roundness of her thighs, he felt a new intensity gathering strength within him. A different need, important enough to block out his anger and frustration, and numb his mind to all purposes except fulfillment and relief.
"You won't leave me, will you, Phyllis?" he said, hoarsely, dropping his hands to the hem of her housecoat, and toying with the soft flesh at the back of her knees.
"Not unless you force me to," she answered, swaying slightly beneath the pressure of his strong caress.
Mel's thoughts flashed back to the redhead lying on the raft, and his entire body shook with need. Rasping words of endearment, he thrust his hands up under Phyllis's dress and squeezed the supple richness high along her thighs.
She stiffened and back away hurriedly. "Not like this," she said, her tone thick with embarrassment. "Let's wait until we go to bed."
Mel opened his mouth to protest, to ask her how she could be so neat and orderly about her feelings. Where were her own needs? Where was the immediate animal response she used to share and return in the days when they used to sneak off from college to a nearby motel?
But he didn't say a word. He just looked at her, feasting on the sight of full, prominent breasts, teasing behind the thin, clinging material of that housecoat ... and the naked expanse of thigh that showed where a button had popped open.
"I don't want to wait." The turbulent desire rising through him commanded total honesty. "Let's go to bed now."
"Oh, please, Mel. Certainly you can control yourself for another few hours..."
He didn't give her the chance to finish the sentence. In a moment, Mel had her in his arms and was crushing his lips to her ripe, red mouth. He tasted the stickiness of her lipstick and the salty excitement of her tongue.
A short gurgling sound told him Phyllis was still trying to put him off, but Mel was having none of it. He couldn't hide his feelings any longer, or postpone them another minute. A tight, gnawing hunger drove him even harder against her, and they both toppled onto the bed. Mel kept his mouth sealed to Phyllis's while he searched out the top of her housecoat with eager fingers. The buttons came easily open beneath his touch, and he plunged his hand beneath the material until the blunt-edged point of her breast scraped the dampness of his palm.
As his excitement grew, the image of that red-headed girl sharpened in his mind's eye. Mel tried to push her out of his thoughts to concentrate on the fact that it was Phyllis there with him, practically naked, and willing to submit to his need for love. His fingers fumbled with the lowest button and he flung the housecoat wide open. Gasping, Mel plunged his mouth into the warm hollow of her throat, and ran the heel of his hand down over her smooth belly.
Phyllis arched at his intimate caress, but Mel knew it was not a movement of passion. "You okay?" he grunted, forcing himself to lie still, despite the holocaust of emotion urging him toward violence.
"Can't you at least turn off the lights?" she said, icily. "And how about getting rid of this bedspread? I just had it cleaned."
Mel felt a portion of his soul freeze over and wither before her aloofness. Still the urgency remained within him and he knew he hadn't the will power to let her out of his embrace.
Moving quickly, he crossed to the light switch and sent the room into semi-darkness. Then he yanked off his bathing suit and waited, cursing bitterly to himself, while Phyllis folded the bedspread neatly, and draped it over the back of a chair.
Her housecoat fell soundlessly to the rug and she crawled back into bed without a word. Mel moved toward her, hating the woman for her lack of sensitivity, and hating himself for what he must do. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. Roughly. Angrily. He wanted to hurt her, the way she had hurt him. And even more, to get her to respond. But Phyllis just lay on the pillows, unmoving, dead weight, almost as if she weren't aware of what was going on.
The pace of his desire whipped all other thoughts out of his mind, and left him with only one goal. Mel groaned with a mixture of agony and pleasure as he took her and sped toward the peak of his arousal. His world rolled and crashed, racing faster and higher, until he thought his lungs would burst with the need for air, and his skull would crack from the explosive pressure in his brain.
And then, groaning helplessly, he galloped past the point of no return and flew through the wild turbulent. perfect moments of release ... until reality returned with the weight of lead.
"I'm sorry, honey," he stammered, wishing he could speed back to the sanctuary and quiet of Moon Lake. "I couldn't help myself. You really know how to shake a guy up."
"Believe me, that wasn't what I was trying to do," Phyllis said, dully.
Mel rolled away from her, knowing in his heart that this time she had spoken the truth. She hadn't derived anything from their union, except possibly a headache. Still, she had allowed him to use her. The pathetic picture of a reluctant, dutiful wife. Mel could just imagine what she must have been thinking all the while he was panting over her flesh. "Let the boy have his way and then you'll have yours. Stoop to conquer. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar..."
And as he lay there in the dimness, Mel wondered if he really was a beaten man.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
Maybe Frankie wouldn't turn out to be such a bad guy after all.
Judy tried to encourage herself, as she walked, naked around her bedroom, selecting the outfit she would wear this evening. For a few moments she'd considered calling Frankie back on the phone and canceling tonight's date with some trumped-up excuse. But then the memory of that stranger's obscene voice returned to put a fresh scare into her. And she knew she'd rather go out with her worst enemy than stay in that house all by herself.
The clothes she'd worn home from school lay in rumpled heaps on the floor where she'd discarded them earlier. Judy found herself blushing as she glanced toward her naked image in the mirror and remembered how she'd discovered the awakening of a woman's desires within her own body. She would try to keep such thoughts out of her mind, she promised herself, even as a renewed awakening of life tingled briskly along her bare thighs. Best to leave alone what she did not know how to handle.
She snapped the clasps of her brassiere closed and reached for a fresh pair of panties. The touch of fingertips to bare flesh made her quiver, and she paused momentarily to enjoy a warm flush of sensation that glowed around the tips of her breasts. No, she screamed silently, and rushed for the fresh blouse she'd taken out of the drawer. She would not allow herself to become preoccupied with such past-times. It was wrong. Dead wrong. Even though it felt so nice.
Judy smoothed out the bottom of her sleeveless pink blouse and slipped into a black skirt. Frankie could drive up at any minute now, she knew. She mustn't let him catch her looking haggard. A quick make-up job was in order to mask the combination of fear and fatigue showing on her face. She hurried into her mother's bedroom, and opened the make-up box on top of the dresser. Working quickly, Judy applied a thin layer of light, scented powder to her cheeks and a hint of sable to her brows and lashes. Inspired by the improvement already evident, she covered her mouth with a thick creamy coat of pink lipstick, and blotted it carefully.
Not bad, she told herself, proudly, as she stepped back to inspect the results of her work. Now all she had to do was run a comb through those blonde waves. He'd never know she was just going out with him because she was petrified to stay alone.
The throaty honking of a wheezy car horn lifted her spirits and brought an unexpected light-heartedness to her mood. "Coming right down," Judy shouted from an upstairs window and returned Frankie's enthusiastic wave. It was nice to have somebody pick her up for a change, she told herself, suddenly remembering that Eddie had never wanted to call for her at the house. She'd always gone to meet him at Four Corners, or someplace in town. Maybe he'd been ashamed of her all along, she wondered. Maybe he'd been taking her out just in the hopes that one night at Moon Lake, she'd say yes instead of no when they both got heated up in the back seat of his car.
Oh, the hell with him, she decided, as she bounced lightly down the stairs. Eddie was out of her life, but that certainly didn't mean it was over. She had a right to have fun with whomever she chose, And right now, the choice happened to be Frankie Stoke.
"Well, get a load of you!" Frankie looked her up and down with smiling approval, as he reached across the front seat to unlock the door.
Judy pretended a scornful expression, even though she knew she didn't really mind his show of interest and admiration. Actually, it made her feel good, she admitted secretly. And as she slid into the convertible beside him, Judy decided that accepting this date had been the right move, after all.
Especially since she could have sworn that the telephone in the house was ringing, as the car roared off down the road.
"It sure is a nice night to go for a ride," Frankie finally opened the conversation with the finesse and subtlety of an eight-week-old puppy.
Judy had to smile as she realized that this six-foot character seated beside her was very nervous. She must really have scared him good this afternoon. "At least it's cool now," she answered, trying honestly to set him at ease. "This afternoon was hot enough to fry eggs on the roof."
"You're not kidding," Frankie chuckled self-consciously.
And Judy could have kicked herself for the unintended double entendre. "Where are we going?" she asked, anxious to steer Frankie's thoughts away from what had transpired between them earlier that day.
"I was going to leave that up to you," he called above the rising whistle of the wind. "Do you have any idea what you'd like to do?"
Judy considered the question seriously for a few minutes. She knew she should get home early to attend to her homework, but the joy of being away from that creepy house was stronger than her self-discipline.
"Oh, I don't care much what we do," she said, nonchalantly. "You don't have to take me to a movie or anything like that, if that's what you meant. Why spend money when you don't have to?"
"Oh, I don't mind spending the money," he said.
Still Judy felt sure he was very relieved by her attitude.
"You wanna go someplace for a soda?" he suggested, "Or are you still filled up from your supper?"
"I didn't have any," Judy thought aloud, suddenly remembering that she'd never gotten around to fixing herself any dinner. "But I can wait till you drop me at home."
"That's okay," he said happily. "I hardly touched my own supper. Mom cooked a rotten casserole. I could stand a couple of burgers myself. Whaddya say we head over to the Starlight?"
"Sounds great," she said honestly. And then she settled back to enjoy the ten-minute ride over to the popular drive-in snack bar.
The Starlight Drive-In was framed by parked automobiles, when they arrived. Judy touched the tips of her fingers to the disarray of her hairdo and tried to smooth the windblown waves back into place. She'd recognized several of the cars in the lot and knew they belonged to kids from school. Bad enough she had to see those gossipy rats at all, she told herself. But since it was unavoidable she sure intended to look her best.
"Smell the charcoal cooking?" Frankie said, taking a deep breath of barbecue tinged air. "Makes me hungry already."
"Me, too," she answered politely.
As they pulled into a parking space and Frankie killed the motor, Judy glanced nervously from side to side. Who was she going to run into first, she wondered. An apprehensive flutter made her shift her position in the front scat. Without thinking about it, she moved a little closer toward Frankie, as if for protection against unknown threats in other cars.
"Something wrong?" he asked, looking down at her with a quizzical expression.
"Oh, no," she said quickly, "I was just getting into the mood for those burgers myself." She had to force her eyes to stop searching the area for a sign of Eddie's car ... or worse, the automobile in which those boys had ridden.
The mere thought of that grew quickly into an obsession. Judy sat with her back pressed tightly against the car door. Her appetite was gone, but she forced down the hamburger and french fries Frankie had ordered for her, along with a chocolate malt. The door handle pressed painfully into her flesh, but she didn't change her position.
With a small amount of concentration she managed to get the gist of what Frankie was talking about and convince him of her attention. The greater part of her thoughts however was focused on the other cars parked in the darkness beyond where she sat. She strained her eyes to inspect each new arrival as it rolled onto the lot, and into a vacant space.
At one point when she'd thought she'd recognized a car, she glanced fearfully up, afraid that he'd seen the reaction on her face, or heard the pounding of her heart. Luckily Frankie was carrying on an animated conversation between bites of food, unaware that it was mostly one-sided, or that Judy was just counting the minutes until they would be away from that place.
"Hey, gang, there's Frankie," a young voice called, about ten feet away from the car.
Judy whirled in her seat to face in the direction from which the sound had come. A stiff, fearful sensation turned her spine rigid, and she grasped the top of the car door, until her knuckles turned white. She watched in silence as half-a-dozen boys and girls she knew from school piled out of a car and hurried in their direction.
She was trapped. She didn't want to see anybody. Especially people she knew from school. And most of all she did not want to be seen with this particular group. Their reputation was wild and unsavory. She'd always made it a practice to steer clear of such delinquents and avoid trouble. Now, suddenly, she found herself in the middle of them with no way out.
"We didn't expect to see you here tonight," a curly-haired boy with a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth said, winking at Frankie.
Judy observed a momentary exchange of knowing glances between the boys and felt like she wanted to shrivel up and hide beneath the dashboard. Maybe it was her imagination, she tried to fend off a growing embarrassment. Maybe that look didn't mean what she had interpreted.
"Judy and I just decided to drop in and have a burger," Frankie answered the boy, sounding completely at ease, even slightly smug. "Nothing wrong with taking a girl out for something to eat, is there?" He extended his right arm along the top of the seat, letting his fingers rest directly behind Judy's shoulder.
She didn't move, toward or away from him. Judy just sat, immobilized by discomfort and confusion. She could swear that those kids were all sneaking looks at her, probably trying to recall everything they'd read in the papers or heard on the radio. She looked toward Frank, begging him with her eyes to get her out of there, and away from painful, prying glances.
It seemed that Frankie couldn't have been less aware of Judy's unrest. Grinning broadly, he exchanged good-natured jokes with the boys, and teased one or two of the girls. From all outward appearances, he was having himself a wonderful time. Finally, he turned toward Judy and leaned in her direction. "You wanna go bowling with the rest of them," he said, softly enough so that only she could hear him.
Judy looked toward the group, relieved to see that they were talking among themselves, and not paying any attention to her. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not," she whispered back to Frankie, and sank a little lower into the cool leather. "Please, let's just go soon. Okay?"
"Sure thing," he winked, understandingly. And as far as Judy could tell, he wasn't at all upset by her refusal.
"I feel like another bite and I'd bust," Frankie said, loosening his belt, as he stopped the car at the edge of the lot and waited for traffic to pass.
"Me, too." She managed a cheerful tone, despite an inner certainty that half-a-dozen pairs of eyes were following their every move from the drive-in. A moment later, Frankie rolled the car out onto the darkened road. The relief of being away from prying eyes and dirty minds overwhelmed her, and Judy started to relax once again.
"I hope you didn't get the wrong idea about my turning down that bowling invitation," she began, for lack of a better way to start conversation.
"Oh, that's okay." Frankie smiled briefly before turning his full attention to a sharp curve in the road ahead of them. "I'd just as soon drive around, just the two of us," he said, straightening the wheel. "I can see the rest of those kids any time."
Judy returned his smile, not knowing whether to feel flattered or concerned by that last remark. She chose the first alternative and enjoyed the luxury of being catered to. They drove the next few miles in silence. The chill of the country air at night had grown stronger, and soon Judy found herself shivering and wishing she'd thought to bring a sweater. Crossing her arms in front of her, she cupped her hands to her bare shoulders, realizing how thoughtless she'd been to put on a sleeveless blouse.
"Cold?" Frankie asked, glancing over at the way she was hugging herself.
She nodded.
"We'll fix that," he said, as he pulled off to the side of the road. A moment later he leaned forward to push a button, and the convertible top groaned and creaked up over the car. "Just a minute now, and we'll have it all set." He fastened the clamps over the windshield frame, and turned to roll up the windows. "And if that doesn't help, this'll warm you up for sure."
Judy watched him lean across and open the glove compartment. A moment later the curve of a glass bottle reflected the moon outside.
"Go ahead, take a slug." Frankie unscrewed the cap and wiped the mouth of the bottle with his shirtsleeves. "One slug won't hurt you. You'll warm up real fast."
She hesitated, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. She didn't want him to think she was too good to drink from a bottle. Yet, on the other hand, she'd never drunk straight whiskey before. "I don't think I could manage this without some soda to mix it in." She hoped the excuse would satisfy him.
Frankie smiled patiently and moved the bottle a little closer to her. "It's my dad's best brandy," he said, coaxingly. "It goes down a heck of a lot easier than rye or gin. Go ahead. Give it a try. See if I'm not right."
Judy took the bottle in her hands and steeled herself for the awful taste. She'd never tried brandy before, but she felt sure that she wasn't going to like it. "I hope I don't get sick."
"Not a chance. This stuff is a breeze to get down."
Judy lifted the bottle to her lips and took an experimental swallow. The dark liquid burned for a moment, as it started to go down, but nothing like the clear colored stuff she'd once stolen from the kitchen cupboard.
"You see?" Frankie said, proudly. "I told you nothing would happen. Hand it over now, it's my turn."
"You sure you'll be able to drive if you drink this?"
"Natch," he said, amused. "What do you think I am, a baby?"
Judy handed the bottle over. Gladly. As she watched Frankie gulp several mouthfuls, she swallowed repeatedly, trying to rid her own tongue and lips of the bitter taste.
"Here. It's yours again," he moved back across the car.
"No, thanks. I think I've had enough."
"Oh, come on. You're old enough to handle it." Judy resigned herself to another mouthful and forced it down.
"Good girl," Frankie winked his approval. "I'm proud of you. I told the other guys they were wrong."
"What do you mean?" Judy felt herself leap to the defensive. "What other guys?"
"You know. The kids back at the drive-in. They were hinting around that I was going out of my league-being out with you and all. I told them what to do with that kind of talk."
"I didn't hear them say anything." She wondered if he was making it all up.
"Well, they sort of hinted around about it." He rubbed the top of the bottle absently. "You know. Without coming out and saying anything in so many words."
Judy felt herself starting to fume. A gloomy feeling descended as she began to wonder if she had any friends left at all.
"They're probably just jealous." Frankie sounded cheerful. "I'll bet they'd like to be out with you, too, and that's what's burning them up. You know, sour grapes."
She smiled a silent thanks. "You don't think they're right, do you?" Judy suddenly needed assurance that at least Frankie was still on her side. "Do you think I'm a snob?"
He replaced the cap on the bottle before answering. Then he turned toward her and moved a little closer. "If I thought that way, do you think I'd be taking you out?" He smiled warmly, slipped his arm around her shoulder. "Besides, I know better. You're a real nice girl, Judy. Just the kind of girl a guy needs to make him feel good."
She saw him inch toward her and she knew she was going to get kissed. Her instincts urged her to pull away, but she sat rigid and waiting. She didn't want to insult the boy. Not after he'd just finished telling her how much he liked her. And especially not since he seemed to be the only friend she had left.
His mouth tasted from the brandy and she winced. A moment later she felt strong arms circling her body and pulling her eagerly against him. She was about to break the clinch and move back to the other side of the seat when a familiar tingle of excitement began to play along her flesh. Judy remained, unmoving, in his arms, as Frankie buried his fingers in the softness of her hair, and urged her lips tighter against his.
A fluttery warmth danced and teased beneath her blouse, and Judy felt her nipples swell to twin peaks of throbbing life. She sighed contentedly as the feeling grew and spread until her entire body seemed wrapped in a cloak of pleasant arousal.
"Oh, Judy. It's so great to be with you like this," he whispered moistly into her ear, before his tongue darted out against the lobe.
Judy's head began to swim and she couldn't tell whether it was the liquor, or Frankie's effect on her. She felt herself tremble slightly as he kissed his way across her cheek, and searched out the warmth of her pink lips.
Their mouths strained toward each other again, and Judy let him kiss her in a way that she had never met with a boy before ... not even Eddie. A new flash of sensation rocketed through her and she snuggled closer in his embrace, murmuring happily.
Before she could do anything to prevent it, Frankie's hand pressed into the softness of her breast and captured the aching tip between two fingers. A little gasp of surprise and delight escaped her throat and Judy turned in his arms.
Without warning Frankie's hand moved again, quickly pushing her skirt up over her knees all the way to her hips. Judy jumped to cover herself, but his fingers had found their way up over her thighs and a wild unexpected thrill shook her from head to toe.
"Please, Frankie, we shouldn't!" she gasped hoarsely, when she could find her voice again.
"Relax, baby, relax," he drawled, pressing his mouth to the front of her blouse, and nipping playfully. "Nobody's going to see us. There's nothing to worry about."
"No, that's not what I meant." Judy felt a different kind of excitement start to build inside her. "We've gone too far as it is," she rasped, reaching down in the darkness to stop the progress of his hand.
"Nothing'll happen. Believe me," he said, attempting to cover her mouth with his own. "Just trust me, will you? I know what I'm doing."
She dug the heels of her shoes into the floorboard as his hand found its mark, and squeezed hard. The image she'd been fighting desperately to dispel flashed before her eye. She saw the hungry look on that boy's face, coming closer beneath the trees. She remembered the feel of the cold ground on her naked back and the pain...
"No!" she screamed. Judy pounded Frankie's shoulders with her fists, and clawed at the flesh on his frightened face. "Leave me alone. Leave me alone!" Her sobbing filled the car and seemed to echo out into the night.
"Hey, what's the matter with you, anyhow?" Frankie's tone was shocked, hostile. "What's with this virgin bit you're playing? I know the score. Remember?"
"Get away from me." Judy slid back against the door and pulled her skirt down over her knees. "You're a filthy, disgusting animal."
"Oh, come on. You know you like it." He followed her over to the other end of the seat. "What's one more time gonna matter, anyhow? You've done it with four guys already. Five won't hurt."
She felt as if the top of her skull was going to fly off from the force of her anger. Shrieking uncontrollably, she dug her long fingernails into Frankie's flesh and raked down hard.
His open hand caught her full across the face, and she sat still, momentarily stunned.
"You little bitch," he growled, patting his bruised face tenderly. "Who the hell wants you anyhow? You're dirty, and all used up."
Judy sat, shocked into numbness. She was only vaguely aware of the sound of the car motor and the motion that followed quickly afterward. Inside, her thoughts were tumbling wildly out of control.
Frankie was right. She was dirty and all used up. She had enjoyed his closeness at the beginning, and that made her as bad as he was. He must hate her now because she didn't give him the one thing he was really after all along. The same thing all the other boys would be after, if they dated her. Everybody knew and felt the same way. Four boys had had her, so it wasn't necessary to respect her any more. She was just a toy ... a plaything to be used until some boy had satisfied himself, and was ready to pass her onto the next member of the gang ... The sound of her crying seemed to fill the world.
"We're home," Frankie said, his voice still thick with distrust. "Get out. Go run to your mother."
Judy slammed the car door and ran all the way to the house, Inside, the rooms were dark. With trembling finders she clicked on the hall light, and raced up the steps to her room.
It seemed like hours before she heard her mother's key turn in the front door lock. Judy got up off the bed and glanced quickly into the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, but she didn't care. Only one thing interested her now, and it had to be done.
"What's with you?" Eve Baker stared questioningly at the sight of her daughter standing at the top of the stairs.
"I want to move," Judy announced. "I've got to get out of here."
"What? You're not making sense, Judy." The woman tossed her pocketbook onto a living-room chair and walked through to the kitchen.
Judy raced after her mother, determined not to let the conversation end without a definite answer.
"The answer is no," Eve Baker said, after Judy had repeated herself. "I can't just give up my job and uproot the two of us at a moment's notice. What do you think we are? Gypsies?"
"But I'm telling you I can't take it any more," Judy wished she had the guts to tell her mother what had happened, but the memory of the telephone call and Frankie's actions in the car made her cringe with shame. She knew she could never speak her mind fully.
"Look, I know you're very upset and all of that," Eve spooned fresh coffee grounds into the percolator and lit the gas range. "Things like this take time to blow over, but mark my words, in a couple of weeks you'll forget all about this moving business."
"You're wrong. I know I won't change my mind."
"I'm your mother, Judy. Don't argue with me. It won't do you any good to be fresh." Eve sighed and pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from a carton in the cupboard. "Now run along and finish your homework, or something." She dismissed her daughter with a wave of her hand. "I've got to iron a dress for tomorrow."
Judy's shoulders drooped as she realized it was a lost cause. Mom wasn't about to break up with her boy friends and take off for strange places, just on her say so. "Remind me to do you a favor sometime," she snarled at the woman, before heading out the door.
"You know something, Judy," her mother called after her, "you're getting more like your father every day. You're a damned fresh kid!"
"Yeah, that's just what I am," Judy muttered under her breath.
And for the first time in her life, she didn't blame her father for running out on his wife. Wherever he was now, no doubt he was much better off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
She lay asleep on the sand, her long hair glistening in the sunlight, her face turned into the shadow from a nearby tree.
Mel stopped short, stunned by the unexpected sight of her sleeping there on that deserted beach, miles from anyplace ... Alone except for unseen birds singing their heads off in the woods. His body cast a long purple shadow across her near-naked flesh and she stirred ever so slightly. Mel stepped back away from her, not wanting to be discovered yet ... hoping she wouldn't awaken, so he could remain there, his eyes devouring every inch of her luscious, ripe body.
Again, she moved her head and the long, shining hair rippled in the sunlight, blinding him, beckoning him to move closer and touch. Yielding to the white hot flame rising within him, he moved quickly across the short stretch of beach and lay down beside her. She turned toward him, her red lips half-parted in a smile of welcome. An invitation. Mel framed her face with his hands and pressed his lips to the sweet moisture of her quivering mouth.
The hollow of her throat was slick and warm with sun-tan oil. Mel breathed deeply of thick, heavy-scented perfume as he kissed his way down to the deep valley between her breasts. He heard her murmur with pleasure as his cheek pressed against the thin material of her bathing suit. Without waiting for permission, he ripped the material free and feasted on the sight of twin mounds of womanly perfection. His hands cupped their fullness and urged the tips to rigid points of arousal.
He reached for the scanty bikini bottom and knotted his fingers over the wisps of cloth clinging to her voluptuous hips. Her suit came free with one tug and Mel ran his hands past the line where her suntan ended, and onto the beautiful expanse of silken, milk-white flesh.
He couldn't wait a moment longer. Leaping to his feet he ripped his bathing suit off and rushed to possess her.
At first she seemed willing, but then all of a sudden she started to scream...
'Wo, Mister Davis, No ... I'll tell ... I'll tell everybody ... Your wife ... Your principal ... Everybody!"
Mel bolted upright in bed, drenched in the damp coolness of his own perspiration. His throat felt parched. Somebody's iron fist was hammering relentlessly away at his stomach. He rubbed his hand across his eyes to brush away the cobwebs of sleep, and eradicate the last painful vision in his memory. Then, suddenly frightened, he glanced over to the other side of the bed. Phyllis's deep, even breathing assured him that she couldn't possibly know what had just gone on. Besides, Mel reminded himself, irritably, it was only a dream. Even if he'd felt it as real as life.
He lay back down on the clammy sheet and tried to summon up the energy to go and change his pajamas. Somewhere in the darkness near the ceiling, he heard a moth battering away at the light fixture with its wings. The crickets outside sounded hell-bent on destroying his nerves. He had to get out of there, he told himself. Out and away to someplace where he could clear his head and arrange his thoughts into something vaguely resembling sanity. He didn't know why he was easing himself out of the bed and tip-toeing silently across the room. Phyllis had always been a sound sleeper. Once her head hit the pillow she was out. He wished he had a dollar for every time he'd discovered that to his own despair.
The strong shower spray smacked against his flesh and prodded him further along toward wakefulness. Mel worked a fresh lather up over his body and massaged the tense muscles along his shoulders. A strained gnawing tightness gripped his thighs and twisted along his abdomen. He adjusted the water knob, adding warmth to the spray. He couldn't understand it, this aching persistent need in his loins. Phyllis had given herself to him only hours ago. His body should have been fulfilled and calm. Yet there was no doubt in his mind as to the nature of his craving.
He needed a woman.
The soap rinsed free of his body, Mel turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool tile floor. An unintended glance in the medicine cabinet mirror drew him closer to his own image. Deep circles framed his eyes and he noticed little lines etched around his mouth, dragging his expression downward in a worried arc. The gray hairs that Phyllis had alluded to earlier were evident, but somehow in the hard fluorescent light they seemed whiter and more prominent. For the first time in his life, Mel was forced to admit that he looked thirty years old.
He toweled himself briskly and pulled on a fresh pair of pajama bottoms. At least he felt cooler, if not happier. He thought briefly about returning to bed and to sleep, but he knew that was hopeless. He wouldn't sleep any more tonight, he realized. And even if he could sleep his dreams wouldn't allow him to rest.
He stepped silently through the shafts of moonlight on the living-room rug, and reached into the silver box on the table for a cigarette. The glow from his match illuminated the room momentarily, making his home look strangely eerie and unreal. For one tense moment, he felt lost ... abandoned ... totally out of place there. Then as a tired ache in his legs reminded him that he'd slept only a few hours, Mel settled back among the cool pillows on the sofa to patiently await the light of morning.
He arrived at school just as the janitor was unlocking the front doors.
"Pretty early today, aren't you, Mister Davis?" The old man smiled cheerfully, doubling the wrinkles on his face. "You must really love this place to get here two hours before the kids."
"Too hot to sleep last night," Mel explained, wondering why he felt obligated to justify his presence. "Thought I'd take advantage of the time to mark some papers."
"Well, at least it's cool," the old man said, good-naturedly. "You have the key to your room, don't you?" He reached down for the heavy ring, hanging from his belt.
"That's okay. I'll pick it up at the office." Mel walked quickly inside, anxious to end the conversation and get upstairs before the coffee in the thermos under his arm turned cold.
The double row of wooden letter boxes on the office wall caught his attention. From where he stood Mel could see a white slip of paper extending past the edge of the pigeonhole with his name on it. He walked directly across the room and opened the note.
Mel waited half an hour for you. Guess the conference run-in left you pretty riled up. Bernice Woodruff is giving me a lift home. Hope you cool off by tomorrow, old buddy. Walter.
Mel reread the note quickly, feeling deeply ashamed of himself. He and Walter had grown up together, attended the same schools, and started teaching at Marshall on the same day. Mel had been giving Walter a ride home after class, without fail, for years. But yesterday he'd forgotten.
"Yesterday was something else, altogether," he muttered, as if he were explaining the oversight to Walter. But today was going to be different, he promised himself, if he had to move heaven and earth, it was going to be a good day. And more important, a normal day.
He heard the mob of noisy students burst through the front door, just as he was scoring the last of yesterday's test papers. Mel screwed the top back on the thermos and hid it in the bottom drawer of the desk along with his ashtray. Then he straightened his tie, and pulled out the lesson plan for his first period English class.
It wasn't until all the papers had been returned and the students were intently poring over their corrected essays that Mel realized she wasn't in the room. An expression of concern tightened his features as he wondered where Judy could be. She wasn't the type to cut classes, if she wasn't sick. Something must be wrong, hi knew. Or maybe she was just tired of having to fight the world in order to hold her head up. like him.
He looked up at the clock on the back wall, again. The period was more than half over, and still Judy hadn't arrived. He'd hoped sincerely that she would walk in late, bearing some adequate excuse. Any explanation would do, he'd decided just as long as she got there. As long as she didn't give up and let graduation day slide past without her.
An imposing silence distracted Mel from his thoughts. He lowered his glance quickly to meet the waiting expressions of his students. A wave of embarrassment flashed through him. They'd all caught him daydreaming. He could tell by the twinkling merriment smiling in their eyes. "It looks like we'd all rather be swimming," he said good-naturedly. And while the wave of laughter circled around the room, Mel warned himself to cut out the nonsense and get down to work.
Three o'clock. The day hadn't turned out so badly after all. Mel congratulated himself, silently, as he packed up his notebooks and reached down into the bottom drawer for the empty thermos bottle. If he'd accomplished nothing else, at least he'd proved to himself that he was still a good teacher. The test marks had corroborated that fact and the class response had been good right through the day. Everything was just fine. And if Judy Baker had come to school, the day would have been damn near perfect.
"You still growling, or can I come in?" Walter stuck his head into the room and smiled jovially.
"Hi, Walter." Mel responded to his friend's pleasant manner in kind. "I was just packing up my stuff."
Walter lowered his huge frame into one of the classroom chairs. He looked like a giant visiting kindergarten. "Looked for you in the cafeteria today," he called across the room. "What did you do, skip lunch?"
"Too hot to eat," Mel lied. "I marked papers instead." Walter was a good friend, Mel knew, but he just wouldn't understand a man's need to be away from people.
"Wanna stop by the place for a sandwich, or something?" Walter offered. "I'm sure Ethel will be glad to fix you a bite."
"Thanks, but no," Mel shook his head. "Your wife's got enough to do with those kids around the house. She doesn't need a boarder."
"How about coffee then, or a can of beer?"
"Now you're talking." Mel snapped his briefcase shut. "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."
Walter looked quizzical for a moment, then shrugging good-naturedly, he hulked out of the room.
Mel heard the heavy footsteps echo all the way down the hall. He really wasn't in any mood to exchange small talk with Walter, he knew. But after yesterday's oversight he owed the guy at least a little of his time. As if he had anything better to do with it, anyway, he added with a wry smile.
He was just on his way toward the door when he heard the hurried footsteps out in the hall ... light, quick sounds that couldn't possibly have belonged to Walter. Mel stopped where he was and smiled questioningly as she appeared in the doorway.
"May I come in, Mister Davis?" Judy asked timidly, clutching her books a little tighter against her.
"You're a little late, aren't you?" Mel said, the tone of his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't angry. Far from it, he knew. He was overjoyed to see her. The sight of Judy's crisp white dress and shining blonde hair lifted his spirits and made him glad. So she was all right, after all. Better late than never, he decided optimistically.
"I'm sorry about not showing up for class today." She looked away from him, and a strained expression cracked through her smile. "I just didn't feel up to seeing all those kids, but I promised you I'd be here to work on the Regents' exam..."
Instinctively Mel knew not to question her further. There was a certain tight, defensive look around her eyes that he recognized. He felt sure she'd been through some kind of hell or other recently ... something that had left her drained and frightened this morning. He didn't blame her really for not coming to school today. In her place how many girls would have returned at all?
"Don't worry about that, Judy," he said reassuringly. "As long as you're here, that's the most important part."
He caught the look of thanks shining in her blue eyes, and something trembled inside of him. "Why don't you just sit down next to my desk? I'll be back in two minutes," he said.
Obediently Judy walked up to the front of the room. Mel watched her fluid graceful movement, aware of the way his eyes were being drawn to the rounded line of her hips. She sure was a good-looking girl, he told himself. Another year and she'd be a helluva lot of woman. In that respect he really couldn't blame those four boys...
It was as if something snapped inside of him. Mel stood, rock still, stunned by his own idea, horrified at the direction that his thinking had taken. She was just a kid, he reminded himself, feeling the pain of that awareness slither through him. He had no right to think of her sexually. This was just as bad as that redhead on the raft. Maybe even worse, because Judy was one of his students.
Mel turned and moved out into the hallway. For a second he was sorry that Judy had shown up at all. It would have made his day much simpler, if he'd just taken Walter home, had that beer, and then continued on his way.
No, you're being selfish, Mel told himself. A beer with Walter could be had any time. Judy needed him now. The girl needed help.
And so did he, Mel added, resignedly. So did he.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Judy sat between two burly detectives in the back seat of the police car chewing her nails down to the quick. Damn them all, she thought, over and over again. She should have some rights as a private citizen. The fury mounted within her and she felt like screaming. She wished there were somebody she could sue.
"This really won't take long, miss." The dark-haired man on her right sounded like he knew what was going on in her mind. "Just a couple of minutes and then it'll be all over."
"But why did you have to come for me at school?" she asked. "Why did you have to pick me up where everybody could see? Don't you think I have enough gossip to live with? I don't need this too."
"Gee, I'm sorry, Miss. I know how you must feel." He seemed to genuinely sympathize with her, "but we didn't have any choice. Detective Benson tried to reach you at home last night till ten o'clock. Nobody was there."
"I was out," Judy muttered.
"Nobody was home this morning either."
"My mother works." She turned and looked away, remembering when the phone rang this morning ... and how she'd been too frightened and depressed to answer.
"Well, I'm sorry miss. like I told you before, we're only obeying our orders. You speak to Detective Benson, and maybe he can do something."
"What can he do?" Judy thought glumly. The harm was already done. There must have been at least a dozen kids hanging around outside when that police car had pulled up.
And worse than that, Mister Davis had been there, too. He must have seen everything.
The green and white car slowed to a stop in front of the station house in the middle of town. Judy glanced around her to see if anybody was close by in the street. Nobody important, really, she told herself, even though she'd recognized the faces of a few passersby. At least there wouldn't be anyone waiting outside after she got out of the police station to ask her what had happened. like the last time.
"I hope we don't have to go through all those pictures again," she said absently as the detective held the car door open for her. She hadn't understood why they'd made her look through hundreds of mug shots to begin with. She'd told them the boys were young, high-school age. And yet she'd been required to thumb through the faces of known criminals, some of them old men.
The detective shrugged and closed the car door. "I don't know what he wants you for, miss. You'd better wait until you see him."
Judy nodded dully and followed the man up the stairs and into the station house. Bare light bulbs made the room look bleak and depressing. The walls were a faded blue-green. The desk sergeant sat reading a newspaper and scratching his balding head. He looked up only briefly, as Judy and the detectives passed him.
"Wait right in here, miss." The other detective said, opening the door to a room furnished with dark wooden chairs. A long, scratched conference table stood in the center.
Judy sat alone in the room and shuddered. She remembered having been told that a man and a woman had brought her there after the attack, but she didn't remember them. It all seemed like a fuzzy, distant dream, an image of long ago during her childhood.
"Hello, Judy. Glad to see you're looking better." Detective Benson said, as he walked into the room.
Judy just nodded. She wasn't in the mood for him today, or any day for that matter.
"Sorry to have to drag you down here again like this," he continued, pulling a chair up beside hers, "but I wanted to have a little chat with you."
"I told you everything I know," Judy said quickly, recalling the dozens of embarrassing questions he'd asked over and over again, the last time they'd met.
"I'm sure you have," he said, pleasantly. "That's not what I was referring to. Actually, this is a rather delicate matter." He paused, seemingly in search of the right words with which to continue.
Judy watched him in silence. She hadn't the slightest idea what was on his mind. She found herself growing curious.
"Tell me, Judy, have you, by any chance, gotten any phone calls?" Detective Benson looked very uncomfortable. "You know what kind of phone calls I mean. About your ... accident, you know. Anything obscene or suggestive?"
Judy felt the color start for her cheeks. She could hear that man's voice on the other end of the line, questioning her about the rape, demanding to know all the gory details. "No, I haven't gotten any phone calls," she said, looking away from the white-haired man. She couldn't tell him the truth, she knew. If she'd said yes, he'd undoubtedly ask her what was said, and she knew she'd just die of embarrassment if she had to repeat that conversation.
"Are you absolutely sure now?" he asked again. "The reason I'm asking is because we're handling a similar case, like yours, over in Allentown. And that poor girl's been hounded by some crank who thinks he's being cute."
"No," Judy repeated quickly, swallowing hard. "Nobody's called me. Is that all you want to know?" She couldn't wait to get out of that room. She felt positive he could tell she was lying.
"That's all," Detective Benson said, "but if you should get any strange people on the phone, please let us know. We have a way of tracing those calls, if need be. People who make them should be locked up someplace."
"I'll be sure to let you know, if it happens," Judy nodded, and got out of her chair.
"The detectives who brought you here will drive you home," he called out behind her. "No sense in your going all that way by yourself, is there?"
Judy shivered at the idea of a police escort all the way back home. What if somebody else saw her? What if other people started warning their kids to stay away from her, the way Eddie's parents had done? Still, it was a long way home from the center of town, and the idea of walking along that country road all by herself was still frightening. "Thank you," she told Detective Benson before heading back toward the front room.
She knew without asking that her mother was going out tonight. Judy sat beside the kitchen table, picking at her supper, trying to make herself inconspicuous. Out of the corner of her eye she followed the rhythmic back and forth motion of her mother's hand on the iron. The woman was pressing that gaudy red dress, which could mean only one thing, Judy knew. One of mom's "friends" was taking her out dancing someplace. Lucky mom.
"You don't mind doing the supper dishes tonight, do you, honey?" Eve Baker said in a syrupy sweet voice. "I'm not going to be ready as it is, when Johnny comes to pick me up."
So it was Johnny, was it, Judy thought disgustedly. The greasy one with the roving eyes. It figured mom would go for him the most. He was the flashiest of her guys, and the tallest.
"No, I don't mind doing the dishes," she said tiredly. She would have agreed to paint the house the way she felt. Anything to avoid another run-in with her mother. After a day like today, Judy wasn't fit for any more scenes.
"School will be finished for you soon, won't it?" Eve said, without looking up from the pleat she was working on.
"Yes, pretty soon." She decided not to tell her mother anything about today. Mom wouldn't understand that she'd been too depressed to drag herself out of bed in time to make her first class this morning. And then when she'd gone in for her coaching session with Mister Davis, the cops had been waiting for her outside the school door. "Great day," she muttered. She hoped she'd never have another one like it.
"There, that's done." Her mother unplugged the iron and laid the dress carefully over one arm. "Put the board away, will you Judy? I've only got ten minutes to get ready." She hurried out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
Judy folded the ironing board closed and put it into its place between the refrigerator and the wall. An unseen mosquito bit and she slapped her bare arm hard, stinging her own flesh. "Dammit," she muttered rubbing the painful area. Tonight was going to be one heck of a drag, even though it was Friday. All the symptoms of a rotten evening were showing, and it didn't look as if there was a thing she could do to avoid it.
She was elbow deep in sudsy dishwater when the car pulled up and stopped in front of the house. Judy aimed a dirty look out through the window and returned to the frying pan she'd been scrubbing. She hoped that her mother would be ready to leave when Johnny knocked on the front door. If not, she'd more than-likely be stuck with him while he waited.
"Eve? Are you ready?" the deep masculine voice called through the screen door.
"Judy, let Johnny inside and give him a beer," her mother called from the top of the stairs. "Be with you in a few minutes, Johnny."
Judy dried her hands and grumbled her way to the front door, ignoring the way his glance double-timed up and down her body. She unlatched the lock and let Johnny in.
"How are you doing, Judy?" he asked, eyeing the soft bulges of her breasts against her blouse. "I hear you had a rough time."
Judy didn't bother to answer. Even if she'd wanted to, the lump in her throat would have stopped her. What kind of an animal was that man, she screamed silently. Didn't he have any idea how a question like that made her feel?
She turned and started toward the kitchen. "Do you want a beer?" she called back over her shoulder.
"Yeah, that would be nice," Johnny answered, following close behind.
Judy filled a glass and carried it into the living room so he wouldn't stand around the kitchen to watch her do the dishes. "See you later," she said, as she walked through the doorway. She wasn't in the mood to sit around and discuss what it had been like to be raped.
It seemed like hours before her mother came down the stairs and left with Johnny. Judy watched through the kitchen window as the car sped off down the road and disappeared around the first curve. Ignoring the depression that seemed to hover just above her shoulders, she returned to do battle with the caked-on grease in the casserole dish. Considering what a rotten supper her mother had made, Judy decided they would have both been better off if they'd eaten out.
The hours dragged interminably. Judy looked up from her copy of The Scarlet Letter, surprised to find that it wasn't dark yet. It seemed that she'd been wading through that book for days, but still more than half of it remained to be read. Stretching lazily, she dropped the book onto the bed beside her and got to her feet. It was too warm to stay in that dress, she decided. She would change into a pair of shorts and a light blouse.
She was just zipping up the shorts when the telephone rang. For a moment she thought back to what Detective Benson had said that afternoon. No, she decided, she wouldn't answer it. No matter who was at the other end of the line, she could live without speaking to anyone. But the insistent ringing was more than she could tolerate, and soon she found herself running in the direction of the sound.
It stopped just as she crossed the threshold of the kitchen. Judy cursed back at the dial tone, and slammed the receiver down angrily. The least they could do was wait, she thought irritably. Now she felt sure she'd be bugged for the next hour trying to figure out who had been trying to reach her. The ringing started again. Judy whirled and ran back into the kitchen. This time she wasn't going to miss the call. "Hello," she said, eagerly, into the mouthpiece.
"Hello, Judy..."
The blood seemed to stop running through her veins. Judy gasped and swayed unsteadily against the corner of the kitchen table, bruising her flesh on the point. She would have recognized that voice anywhere. There was only one like it in the whole world.
"I called to see how you're doing, Judy," the voice continued. "We've been a little worried about you."
She wanted to hang up, but she felt powerless to move. She saw his face again, coming down close to hers, twisted with cruel amusement, as he stripped the clothes from her body, and kicked her feet out from under her.
"What ... what do you want?" she croaked, unable to control the quality of her voice. She felt her supper lurch violently in her stomach.
"Like I said, we've been a little worried," the boy went on. "Somebody told us you went to the police this afternoon. How come? Is something the matter?"
"I didn't go to them," she whispered. "They picked me up at school."
"What for?"
"They wanted to ask me some questions."
"But you didn't give them any answers, did you, Judy?"
"I had nothing to tell them even if I wanted to." She began to realize what he was after. "I don't know who you are, or where you live, or anything like that."
"How about what we look like?" he snapped. "Did you tell them that?"
"I don't remember. Really, I don't." Her voice was trembling now along with the rest of her body. She almost dropped the phone. "It was dark, and I was so scared..."
"Well, you just make sure you keep it that way," he said, "because if you don't we're going to catch you again. If we do, what happened last time is going to look like a vacation."
"What do you want from me?" she sobbed into the phone, near hysteria.
"Just for you to keep your mouth shut," he drawled, "and you'd better remember that we mean business. It sure would be a shame to have to cut up that pretty little face of yours."
"For God's sake, leave me alone!" she screamed, at the top of her lungs. Then she listened as the boy's sneering laugh was suddenly interrupted by a short click. The line was dead.
Judy just sat staring numbly at the telephone receiver. She was too frightened to replace it on the hook for fear the boy would call again. Her mind was on fire and her heartbeat raced painfully fast. What if they should be waiting for her, she thought, terrified? What if somehow those boys got the idea that she'd identified them and wanted to get back at her? What if they really did scar her face, or force her to satisfy them again?
The telephone banged loudly against the floor as it fell from Judy's trembling fingers. Ignoring the sound, she fell forward toward the table sobbing into the crook of her arm. The tears poured out of her as if they'd never stop, as she gave vent to the panic she felt. Then she realized that she was alone again, and all the doors to the house were unlocked.
Judy ran to the front door and then to the back, hooking the latches quickly. But they weren't strong enough, she told herself. If anybody really wanted to break in and get at her, they could do so easily. If not through the doors, then through the windows. She'd never be able to protect herself or call for help in time. She'd be trapped. Helpless. At their mercy...
Unless she called for help, right now.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
"Yes, my dear Phyllis, I am drunk," Mel announced, his voice quivering with emotion. "Quite drunk. Tell that to your old man. And what's more I like being drunk," he pointed out. "And I like being a schoolteacher. And I like my hundred and a quarter a week, and my dinky old car. As a matter-of-fact I like just about everything. Except my wife." He reached across the table and pulled the photograph over to stand beside the opened bottle of scotch.
Phyllis kept smiling, despite his sullen expression. She just sat there in her frame not hearing a word. "The same as if you were here in person," Mel growled at the picture. "I still wouldn't get through to you." And with that he lifted the old-fashioned glass and swallowed its contents.
The liquor had grown tasteless by now. Mel shoved the glass away, and scowled. He knew he wasn't going about this the right way, but it was too late to do anything about it. Walter had been sporting enough to wait for him while he had his session with Judy Baker. He couldn't very well refuse his friend's offer of a couple of drinks now, could he? Of course not, Mel answered aloud. Naturally one drink had turned into two. And so what if he'd had a third? He was entitled. After all, it was Friday. No work tomorrow. What of it?
Well, maybe he had been a little short-tempered with Phyllis when he got home. Whatever happened was her own damned fault, though, for being so tactless and stupid. She shouldn't have hit him right off with that announcement of hers...
"I spoke to dad today, and told him you were going to take that job with the firm. He was very happy about it."
Mel could hear her words just as if they were being spoken all over again. Yes, she'd come out and said it just like that, as soon as he walked through the door. like it was a decision they'd both made. like it was something he should be proud of or happy about.
And if that wasn't bad enough, she'd gone and told her parents that she and Mel would drive into the city for the week-end to talk it all over and make definite plans. "Without even asking me!" Mel complained as if he were speaking to an invisible panel of judges. Well, he'd told her, and good, he remembered gleefully. He'd had just enough liquor in him to let Phyllis know what he thought ... what he really thought ... in all the four letter words he knew. His laughter filled the empty house, as Mel remembered the look on her face. White. Just like a bed sheet. Boy had he shut her up!
For a while, anyway. Until she decided to remember who she was, what kind of family she'd come from, and what she'd given up for the-likes of him. The nerve of her, Mel grumbled, to say that she should have known he wasn't good enough to shine her shoes.
"Go ahead. Run back to your old man. See if I give a damn," he screamed at the picture. "Stay for the weekend. Stay for the rest of your life if you want to! Spend all the money you can, and leave me the hell alone." He reached for the bottle of scotch with a trembling hand and wondered how long it would take him to adjust to the notion of being abandoned.
The sound began as a fuzzy interruption out around the periphery of his awareness. Mel took another shot of scotch and tried to will the noise away, by ignoring it. If he had to be alone, then let the damned world leave him that way. In peace. He didn't need telephone calls in the middle of the night. All right, so it wasn't the middle of the night, he conceded when a glance at his watch told him it was barely nine-thirty. That didn't change the fact that there wasn't anybody he felt like talking to.
But what if that was Phyllis, he thought on the fifth ring? What if she'd had an accident? Or the car had broken down? Or she'd changed her mind and by some miracle realized he was right?
Mel leaped to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste to get across the room. He stumbled on the edge of the area rug, but managed, nevertheless, to snatch the receiver off the hook before the phone went dead. "Hello," he rasped, anxiously into the mouthpiece. "Hello?"
"Is this Mister Davis?" a thin voice quivered. "Mister Davis the English teacher?"
Mel did a double-take, unable to assimilate what he could have sworn he'd just heard. He must really be zonked, he thought, bringing his free hand up to his throbbing forehead. How much scotch had he consumed, he asked himself. The events of the last few hours were too blurred to recall in detail. Still, he'd never had hallucinations before.
I'll
"Hello ... hello?" the young voice called out to him, a note of pleading in its tone.
"Yes, I'm here," Mef answered, not quite thoroughly convinced yet. That couldn't possibly be Judy Baker's voice. Why would she be calling him at nine-thirty on a Friday night?
"This is Judy, Mister Davis," the voice continued. "Judy Baker. I'm sorry to bother you like this. I hope I didn't disturb you in the middle of company, or something."
"No, no, that's quite all right," Mel assured her immediately. "You didn't disturb me. Is anything the matter?" He felt the haze begin to clear out of his mind as the realization that it actually was Judy got to him. For the life of him, he couldn't even take a guess at why she phoned.
"I really wouldn't have bothered you like this," she repeated, "except that my mother isn't home, and there's nobody else really that I could call." Her rate of speech became noticeably faster, and her rapid breathing was clearly audible through the telephone. "I guess I should really have called the police, because, you know they came to see me this afternoon..."
"The police?" Mel echoed. "What's the matter, Judy? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I guess so." She suddenly sounded like she was choking on the words. "It's just that the phone rang a little while ago and..." Her voice trailed off into a sporadic gurgling sound of uncontrollable weeping.
Mel shook his head as if the action could clear the rest of the mess out of his mind. Things were happening too fast, for him to absorb and respond efficiently.
He listened to the soft crying for a moment, until his own throat seemed to constrict with emotion. He would have given anything to be there with her, and then he realized that he had no idea where the girl was. If she hung up on him now, he might not be able to reach her.
"Judy, where are you? Tell me what's happened immediately," he said in his best schoolteacher voice, hoping to force a response out of her with the sound of authority. He heard her draw a deep breath before she answered in a weak, quavering voice.
"I'm at home now," she said. "I'm all right really. I shouldn't be carrying on like this, I know. I'm acting like a baby."
"Don't worry about that. Just tell me what's the matter."
"Just a minute. Let me get a tissue." The phone banged, obviously having been dropped.
Mel fumbled around in his pocket crushing half the cigarettes in a clumsv attempt to get the pack into his hand. This was one helluva time to go looking for tissues, when he was hanging there at the other end of the line, not knowing what to think. Women were miraculous, he reflected wryly. Without even half-trying they could tie a guy up in knots, and leave him helpless and dangling in limbo.
The receiver at the other end of the line was lifted, just as Mel managed to strike a match on the third try.
"I'm sorry, Mister Davis," Judy said, sheepishly but with appreciatively more control in her manner. "I think I'll be all right now."
"You still haven't told me what happened," he pressed intently. "Do you want me to call the police for you? They can be over to your house in five or ten minutes, if you'd like."
"No ... please, don't do that. Don't call them." The tone of fear returned to her voice even more strongly.
And Mel could have kicked himself for saying the wrong thing, even though he'd meant well. "Is anybody there with you?" he asked, despite the awareness that he was sounding like something out of a bad cops and robbers film. "Can you talk?"
"Oh, yes. It's nothing like that." Judy swallowed loudly, her voice still rippling with fright. "Like I said, I'm here all by myself and the telephone rang, and it was him ... the leader of those boys ... the ones last week..." A high whine and gasping sound interrupted her words.
Mel didn't have to hear any more to get the message. He knew just what was happening, and what he must do. "Judy, are you there? Can you still hear me?"
She managed a quivering, "yes."
"I'm going to get in the car and come right over. Do you understand?"
No answer.
Mel told himself he'd better move quickly, and stop wasting time. Heaven only knew what was going on there, and that poor kid all by herself, without any protection. "Do you know what my car looks like?"
"I ... I think so."
He described it to her anyway. "Stay inside now, and don't worry about a thing. I'll be there just as soon as I can. Wait inside the house until I blow the horn. All right?"
"All right."
"Now just try to stay calm, sweetheart, I won't be long."
"Thank you." He heard her sigh deeply before tV connection was broken.
Mel ground out his cigarette with three nervous jabs. His thoughts were racing far ahead of him, and he wished he had their speed. But as he hurried back toward the kitchen, the spongy sensation around his knees made him realize he'd better take it easy. He wasn't ready for this, he told himself tiredly, as a dull, persistent throbbing straightened across his brow. Of all nights for that kid to need him, this was the worst possible choice. He could have done very nicely without that telephone conversation.
And then a portion of it returned to him, making him stop for a moment, and question his motives. Why had he called her sweetheart? No doubt that he'd said it. He remembered that clearly enough. Who ever heard of a schoolteacher addressing one of his pupils as "sweetheart"? A lot of people could get the wrong idea from a slip of the tongue like that one, even though it had been a natural response because of the circumstances.
Yes, that's just what it was, the result of extenuating circumstances, and nothing more. "Forget it, Mel," he told himself. "Heat up some black coffee and find the car keys." He walked over to the stove and peered into the percolator. It was empty. "The hell with it," he muttered. Then he picked up his car keys, downed another quick shot of scotch and left all the houselights burning behind him.
The blare of oncoming headlights stung his eyes making them blink and turn watery. Mel drove determinedly on, hoping that the fresh air against his face wouldn't strengthen the effect of that scotch, and wishing that he had a stick of gum to kill off the taste and odor of alcohol. Friday night was a lousy time to have to drive. Especially in his condition, he thought, as he carefully avoided a deep rut in the blacktop road.
He steered the car onto Clover Road, grateful for being the only automobile in sight now. A reflection of pitch black night in the rear view mirror made him stiffen. This must be about where it happened, he realized. Somewhere along this lonely, dark stretch Judy had been attacked.
He glanced at the thick foliage along the sides of the road, almost as if he expected to come upon the same group of boys waiting for another helpless young girl to pass their way. "My God," he murmured, as he envisioned the terror that Judy must have felt out there in those woods. That she came through it with any sanity was a miracle in itself. She was a very strong and brave little girl, and he felt proud of her.
A sudden sharp curve jumped into his path without warning. Mel yanked the wheel at the last moment and the car skidded frighteningly across the pavement. He slowed down and waited for his heartbeat to return to its normal rate. That's what he got for convincing himself he was sober, he told himself. He'd better damn well watch his step from here on out. This was no time to rack himself up against one of these trees.
It looked like every light in the house was on. Mel pulled up in front of the gate and checked the name on the mailbox to be sure. His vision blurred and he strained to make out the letters. Finally, he saw them, and smiled as he leaned forward to blow the horn.
He waited behind the wheel, narrowing his eyes to concentrate on the path leading to her front door. Finally Judy's face appeared behind one of the porch windows and he saw her break into a smile as she waved. Mel relaxed, grateful that he'd arrived in time. He only wished that he knew what to do now that he was there.
The front door to the house opened, and Judy appeared on the porch. Her shining blonde hair glistened in the moonlight, and her ivory skin appeared pale and flawless. Mel felt something within him stir at the sight of her long bare legs exposed all the way to a pair of clinging shorts high across her thighs. A flickering of arousal teased within him and he had to remind himself that this wasn't an errand of pleasure. The girl was in a bad way, and she had turned to him as the only one who could help her.
That last thought was still warming him as he got out and opened the other door for her. "I thought I'd come to the wrong house because all the lights were on," he told her, to distract himself from the unnerving effect of her closeness.
"I was afraid to stay in the place if it was dark." She turned and looked up at him, smiling shyly. "I know this is very silly of me..."
"Come on. That kind of talk isn't necessary," Mel said, his tone sharper than he'd intended. "You aren't being silly at all. In fact, I'm very glad you called me." He softened his manner to reassure the girl and admitted to himself that he was telling the truth.
Mel walked around back to the driver's side, wondering where he was going to take her. He thought about asking her for a suggestion but then decided against it. First things first, he told himself. Get her away from the house and into a relaxed frame of mind. Then he'd get her to tell him exactly what had gone on, and if his suspicions were correct, he'd have to try to convince her to report the phone call to the police.
The pleasing scent of her perfume kept distracting him from the road. Mel swallowed hard and wished he'd stopped to have that cup of black coffee. His head felt about three times its normal size and his arms and legs alternated between stiff tension and limp numbness. "For Judy's sake, be careful," he told himself, riveting his attention back to the monotonous blacktop in front of the car hood.
They drove about two miles each wrapped in separate, silent thought. Finally Mel stole a glance in Judy's direction, hoping that this unsavory ideas were not being revealed on his face. She sat hunched in the corner of the seat, chewing on a fingernail. Her glance swept back and forth from one side of the road to the other, and she reminded Mel of a caged, cornered animal.
"Feeling any better?" He fought to keep his voice even, but he couldn't be sure he'd succeeded. Never again, Mel vowed inwardly. Not one drop, ever.
Judy nodded and gnawed her lower lip. Mel knew she wasn't telling the truth. The poor kid was scared silly.
"Want to tell me about it?" he coaxed gently, aware of an almost irresistible urge to put his arm around her and assure the girl that she was safe. That he would protect her. He would take care of her, and nothing would ever frighten her again.
Judy closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the top of the seat. "I feel like my skull is just going to explode," she said, following her words with an exasperated sigh.
"I know just what you mean," Mel commented dryly.
"It's never been like this for me," she opened her eyes and stared up at the roof of the car. "I can't even explain it really. All I know is that I feel like running ... so far away that I won't even be able to find myself. Crazy, isn't it?"
"No, not at all," Mel answered, in a moment of daring honesty. The pedagogue inside him insisted that he give her the usual spiel about how running away from problems never solved anything. But he couldn't bring himself to issue that trite, meaningless advice. Especially not when he knew he felt exactly the way that she did. Amazing, he thought, considering the years that separated the two of them.
"I really don't know what I'm going to do," she continued, her voice beginning to falter. "I feel like I could just scream. I don't know who I am any more, or what I'm doing or what's going to become of me."
"You've had a rough week," Mel commented, trying to be objective. "Doesn't it figure that you should be a little confused?"
Judy shook her head, looking as if words were becoming too painful for her. "Not like this," she said. "I managed to get through the rest of it, all right. The doctors. The police. The kids at school srubbing me. But now I feel like I just ran out of steam." She began to cry softly in her corner of the car.
And Mel felt an ache that threatened to split him in two. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, and handed it to her. He cursed inwardly because they'd hit a curving stretch of road and it was impossible for him to stop the car and comfort her.
"Come on, now, Judy. You've been a very brave young lady up to now. Why let yourself go to pieces? Things have to get better you know. The worst is behind you." He wanted to cut out his tongue for spouting such garbage. That nonsense was worthy perhaps of a kindergarten teacher, Mel thought. He was talking to the girl as if she were an imbecile. He couldn't blame her, if she told him what to do with his slick instant advice.
"I wish that were true," she said tearfully, "but I know things aren't going to get better. Just worse. I know it. I know it." Her body rocked with sobbing that seemed to shake the entire car.
Mel decided it was time to drop the subject and switch to something innocuous once again. "How about a soda?" He did his best to sound bright, despite a nauseous response from his insides at the mere idea of anything rich and chocolaty on top of that scotch. "Would you like that? I'm buying."
She shook her head no. "That's very nice of you Mister Davis, but I don't think I could."
"I thought all high school kids liked malts. What are you, square or something?"
The tears continued to flow unchecked down her smooth, pretty face. "It's not that," she said. "I just couldn't face running into anybody I know again. They're all against me. Every last one of them. Just because of what happened, they're treating me like a tramp. It wasn't my fault, that night in the woods. Honest, it wasn't."
"Of course it wasn't," Mel sighed, filled with an enormous frustration, so big it seemed to engulf him. Those little bastards, he thought, picturing the goody-goody faces that greeted him each morning in the classroom. He could just see them giving her those sidelong glances, and whispering among themselves, "That's the girl who had it. That's the girl they took in the woods..."
"What about if we went someplace where you didn't have to worry about running into any of them?" Mel hesitated for a moment as the voice of better judgment screamed for him to close his mouth and not continue ... Play it safe. Don't risk everything. Small towns thrive on dirty minds. The hell with it, Mel decided.
What did he have to lose, really, at this stage of the game? Even if this night did backfire.
"There's no place in town where I wouldn't see somebody I know," Judy sniffled loudly. "They're all over the place, just waiting for a chance to gossip a little more."
"There's nobody at my house," he forced the words out quickly while he still had the nerve. "I'm sure I can dig up a jar of malt, and some chocolate syrup from the pantry. How about it?"
Judy seemed to brighten a little. "Gosh, I don't know if I should..."
"Of course you should," he said emphatically, feeling suddenly wild, giddy, thrilled with a sense of power and accomplishment. "That's what people are for, to be nice to each other, don't you think? Come on, it's not too far from here." He stepped down hard on the gas, and smiled all of a sudden, as if he were having a truly wonderful time.
"There you go." Mel handed Judy a frosty glass and then went hunting for a package of straws. "If I only knew where my wife keeps things, I could have done this in half the time."
"Where is she?" Judy peered toward the living room. "I hope we're not waking her up, or anything."
"Don't worry about it." Mel forced an unpleasant thought of Phyllis from his mind. "She's out for the evening. We won't be disturbing anybody. Come on, bring your malted into the living-room, where we can be more comfortable while we talk."
Judy took a few short sips and set the glass down on the coffee table. Then she folded her hands in her lap, and sank a little lower onto the sofa.
Mel resisted an itchy feeling to move closer. The ripe mounds of her breasts were straining against that thin blouse in a way that made his spine ripple anxiously. Suddenly his clothes began to feel cumbersome, restricting. "Do you think you can talk a little better now?" He forced himself away from his own dangerous line of thought.
"I don't know if I should really tell you the things that are on my mind." She smiled shyly. "They're not very nice."
"Judy, whatever it is, let's look at this like two adults. You don't have to hide anything. I know you're the right kind of girl."
He watched her consider the truth of his words in her mind, still undecided, still unsure. Then, sighing resolutely, Judy turned toward him and began to phrase her words...
Mel listened, feeling the sickness and disgust grow inside of him with every passing sentence. He heard her description of the incidents with Frankie, unable to believe that kids could be so rotten to each other. He wished he had that boy there with him now, so he could give him what he deserved for toying with the girl's feelings.
And then it got worse. The telephone call from the boy who'd led the attack ... the threats ... the insinuations.
And finally the telephone call from some nut, who deserved to be hanged, slowly and painfully.
Judy seemed to crumple into a tight little ball of misery in front of him. "I can't help it," she wailed, as the tears began to flow between the fingers that covered her face. "I'm just scared. I'm afraid of everything. I don't even want to walk outside the house any more. And mom won't move away. Not with all those boyfriends that she's got to take her out dancing and things."
He felt like he was choking along with her. It wasn't possible, Mel kept telling himself. People couldn't be such animals to each other. Not in this day and age. Not when survival was no longer a matter of kill or be killed.
"I feel like I'm all alone," Judy cried out pitifully. "There's nobody who gives a damn any more. Nobody..."
He moved to her quickly, and took her in his arms. "That's not true. That's not true, Judy," he said, stroking her hair with his fingers and hugging her close to him.
She pressed her cheek against his chest and his skin seemed to catch fire and ignite the rest of his body. Mel felt himself trembling violently on the brink of madness. He forced himself to keep talking, to tell the girl that everything would be all right, that she wasn't alone ... that somebody did care. He cared. He cared very much.
She leaned a little harder against him ... like a puppy curling itself near in need of affection. He felt the sobs crash through her body and echo through his own. And before he knew what he'd done, his mouth had found hers and his lips were caressing the softness of her lips. Judy stiffened for the briefest moment during which Mel felt as if he'd nearly die of suspense. But then she was winding her arms around his neck, hugging him furiously, pulling his mouth down on hers as they sank into the soft caress of deep pillows on the sofa.
Mel moaned loudly as he scooped her back into his arms again, and pressed his body tight against her soft, yielding flesh. Judy did not shrink away. Instead she began a slow motion with her legs and hips, sighing softly, wrapping herself around him until Mel thought he was going to explode with wanting her. Thin clothing seemed to melt off her young body. Mel opened her blouse and reached underneath to grapple with the hooks on her brassiere. "What if somebody...? "
"Hush, baby." He kissed her trembling mouth. "Nobody's going to come in. We're all by ourselves. I'll take care of you."
She seemed to relax into a semi-conscious state, trusting him completely, giving herself over to his care totally as he eased the tight shorts from her hips, and slid his hand beneath the delicate material of her panties.
A shudder raced through her body and Mel felt fulfilled and encouraged by the knowledge that he was giving her pleasure, too. Slowly, expertly, he manipulated her until her nails began to claw along his back, and she bit the edge of his lip accidentally.
"Let me take care of those lights," he whispered. When Judy nodded, he stood up slowly, forcing his legs to move around the room. One by one the lamps were extinguished until the moonlight was the only illumination around them.
Mel looked down at the naked girl on the sofa and his breath caught in his throat. He watched her full young breasts rise and fall slowly with her breathing and felt himself being drawn even more deeply into the inescapable web of his own desire. He ripped the clothes from his body and ran to her, breathless with need, wild with impatience.
"Please don't hurt me," she said, in a tiny little-girl voice. "Don't hurt me."
"Never." Mel promised as he kissed the sweet pink bud of one breast, and then the other. "I'd never hurt you."
He pressed his cheek to her warm belly, and slid the heels of his hands down beneath her thighs.
And then his flesh would wait no longer. Mel moved slowly, carefully, guiding them both, protecting her fragility from the violent, primitive need throbbing just beneath the surface of his own control.
She began to sigh softly, as she reached out for him. Mel hurried into her arms. Their pace quickened and their pleasure grew ... then spun ... and rose ... and flared into a thousand incomparable points of exquisite delight that sent them crashing together and trembling in each other's arms, happy ... satisfied at last...
Slowly, blissfully, they fought for breath as sobriety began to descend once again. Mel kissed her lovingly on the tip of her nose, and pressed his mouth against Judy's little ear. "Are you all right?" he whispered.
"Mmmmm ... mmm, just fine," Judy sighed contentedly. "I never thought it could be like this. I was beginning to believe that all men were rotten dirty stinkers, but now ... now that you've shown me what it's really like..."
Mel felt his flesh turn to ice. A wedge of pain forced its way through his insides as if to eviscerate him. His eyeballs grated around in their sockets and the marrow in his bones seemed to turn to sand.
"Dear God!" he cried inwardly, as sudden awareness made him wish for death. "What have I done ... what have I done?"
And beside him Judy smiled her way into a sweet, deep sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
* * *
"Come on, already! It's almost noon."
Judy smiled contentedly and wound her arms a little tighter around her pillow. The comforting insulation of sleep lingered pleasantly about her, allowing only the most pleasing thoughts to cross her mind and thrill her spirit, again and again.
"How many times am I going to have to call you? Have you gone deaf, or something?"
Judy ignored the grating voice that filtered up from the kitchen, preferring to return to the memory of his face and the way he'd looked at her. Adoringly. That was the word for it, she decided. Definitely, adoring. And the way he'd held her ... She could still feel the touch of his knowing fingers on her churning flesh. The very thought of it was enough to make her squirm with delight, even now.
So this was the famous 'morning after,' she told herself, as she stretched languidly on top of the bed. She'd never thought it could be so wonderful to have a man make love to her. She'd never imagined that the touch of a hand, the sensation of a kiss could turn her body into one mass of yearning, molten desire.
It was even better than in those love magazines she'd read, Judy decided. Much better, indeed.
The footsteps grew louder and faster on their way up the staircase, and were followed shortly by a volley of sharp knocks on the bedroom door.
"Are you going to get up today, or do I have to drag you out of that bed?"
"Oh, all right, already. I'm coming. I'm coming."
"Well, make it quick, then. I haven't got all day to wait for you, you know. This isn't a hotel."
You can say that again, Judy thought, as she stuck her tongue out, belligerently in the direction of the locked door. She wondered when her mother was going to stop nagging and treating her as if she were still a kid. An impish giggle bubbled up in her throat as Judy thought about what would happen if mom knew the score. She could just picture the look on that stony face as she calmly announced that she had a lover to take care of her now, and that further advice wouldn't be necessary.
Yes, she could just see it, Judy repeated inwardly, her smile quickly fading into a pout. Mom would probably run straight to the School Board. Or maybe, even worse, to Detective Benson. She'd have to be very careful about that, Judy warned herself, seriously. It was one thing to announce to your friends that you had a new steady; but quite another to announce to the world that you and your English teacher were in love.
She looked over toward the little clock on her bureau and was mildly amused to discover that for once her mother had been right. It was almost noon. Judy stretched and purred, realizing how soundly she'd slept last night. Better than all the rest of the nights of the week combined. But that really shouldn't be such a shock, she decided. After all, she was finally happy.
Completely happy. She strengthened that point in her mind. Despite all the horrible things that had happened to her recently, she felt positive that now she could face the world with renewed strength and staunch optimism. Even if she never got asked out on another date and the gossiping continued for the next ten years, she wouldn't be bothered at all.
And her new lease on life was all thanks to Mel Davis.
Mel ... she repeated his name in her mind, lovingly. Mel Davis ... Mel and Judy ... Judy Davis.
No, that was impossible, she told herself firmly, despite the shadow of melancholy cast by the admission. He already had a wife. Probably some horrible shrew of a woman who never went out of her way to do special things for him and took him for granted, besides. Still, whoever she was, she was his legal wife. And Mel hadn't mentioned a thing about divorcing her.
Maybe soon. Judy allowed herself the luxury of that thin hope. And she made a mental note to bring the subject up, the very next time she saw him.
And then, it dawned on her for the first time that Mel hadn't mentioned anything about a next time, either. Must be because he was so excited last night, about their new 'understanding.' That was a good way to put it, Judy decided. After all, it wasn't every day that a guy Mel's age came across a young girl who could understand him the way she did.
"Judy, so help me, I'm not going to call you again! Either you get down here right now or you can just forget about breakfast. I'm warning you."
Judy scowled and forced her legs over the side of the mattress. In spite of the torrid secret burning within her, she had to admit that she was hungry. "Even people in love have to eat," she joked with herself. And yes, she certainly was in love, she added silently. Desperately so.
She pulled the cotton nightgown over her head and stood, naked and tingling with excitement in front of the mirror. This morning, the sight of her bare flesh created an aura of mystery and intrigue that compelled her to carefully scrutinize her own reflection ... but this time with happy anticipation.
She ran her hands down from the stiffening points of her throbbing nipples to the glowing planes of her soft, inner thighs. Just like he'd done, she reminded herself, with a wicked grin. And then, she had to fight off a tremendous urge to proceed further along the paths of pleasure that had been so recently awakened to her. She must save that energy, Judy decided willingly. She'd need every bit of strength, the next time Mel came for her.
Maybe even tonight...
She dressed slowly, unable to decide what she was really in the mood to wear. Suddenly, all her clothing seemed wrong for her. Much too young and loose-fitting, Judy concluded, after she'd rummaged through the contents of her closet. Somehow, she'd have to get enough money together to buy a whole new wardrobe. One that was more suitable for a woman in her situation.
Maybe Mel would give her the money, she thought, enthusiastically. She must remember to ask him about that, too. After all, she was doing all of this for his benefit, now, as well as hers.
"Well, it's about time you showed your face down here today," Eve Baker growled, without turning her attention from the dishes in the sink. "You'd think that a girl of your age could at least get up in time to help out around the house on the weekend. Or are you too good for chores, all of a sudden?"
"For crying out loud, mom. Lay off, will ya?" Judy reached for a cup in the cabinet and walked over to turn the light on under the coffee pot.
"Since when did you take to drinking coffee in the morning?" her mother asked, as she followed Judy's movements with a mixture of amusement and disapproval on her face. "I brought two fresh quarts of milk, just yesterday."
"So what's the big deal if I feel like having coffee for a change? I'm old enough to decide about things like that for myself, don't you think?" She wished her mother would go into town shopping, or out for a ride with one of her abominable boyfriends. Anything that would get the woman out of the house would be just great, Judy knew. That way, she'd be able to call Mel on the phone and talk to him in privacy and peace.
"I don't think anything of the kind," Eve Baker didn't seem to have any intentions of budging from her position in front of the sink, where she was close enough to nag. "And by the way, where were you last night, young lady?"
"Why?" Judy asked, sounding casual despite the jolt of nervousness that almost sent the coffee cup crashing from her grasp.
"Why?" her mother mimicked, sarcastically. "Because it just so happens that every light in the house was burning, when I got in. And I know you weren't home, so don't try and tell me different. What do you think I go to work for, to support the electric company?"
So that was the beef, Judy told herself, greatly relieved. Mom was only worried about the money. She should have known. "I'm sorry," she said, hoping her tone didn't betray the indifference she actually felt. "It got kind of close in the house, so I went for a ride with some of the kids from school, I must have forgotten about the lights."
"Sure. What's money to a kid like you. You don't have to earn it," Eve mumbled. Then she reached for a fresh scouring pad and transferred the energy of her anger to the scrubbing of a dirty pot.
Judy felt her own temper flare to life within her. That last crack of her mother's was uncalled for. Just like so many other things that the woman had said to her lately. And suddenly she was fed up with swallowing hurt feelings and slinking off into corners to lick her wounds like an underling.
"Look, if you had a fight with Johnny last night, don't take it out on me," she snapped. "I'm sick and tired of all this crap about what a no-good kid I am. It's about time you realized this little girl has grown up ... Or does that make you too old for your Uking?" She added that last sentence purposely, knowing it would sting and hoping it would shock the woman back to her senses.
Eve Baker turned slowly around to glare at her daughter. Her face had drained of all its color and the crows' feet around her narrow eyes made the skin there seem leathery and tight. "How dare you!" she whispered hoarsely, and a little vein stood out on her neck, throbbing with violent life. "Why, I have a good mind to..."
"To what?" Judy defied the woman brazenly. In the back of her mind she suspected this attitude would get her no place, but it felt so good to speak her mind for a change, she could not bring herself to stop. "What are you going to do? Hit me. I'm not ten years old anymore, remember? You can't keep ordering me around like your little housemaid."
"Why, you rotten little brat." The scouring pad hit the dishwater with a loud splash. "I'll show you who's still the boss around this house. You can just forget about your allowance this week. And next."
Judy saw her mother coming for her and she stepped gingerly out of the woman's reach. Suddenly, this clash of personalities was turning into great fun. A tremendous release of something that seemed to have been brewing between them for years.
"My allowance?" She laughed out loud. "Do you want me to tell you what you can do with your lousy couple of dollars, or can you guess?"
Mel would give her all the money she needed, Judy assured herself gleefully. And suddenly, for the first time since she could remember, she felt free and equal. So what if her mother didn't understand her, or like her even? She didn't need the woman anymore. Not now, when she had Mel to go to. He understood her. He liked her. And the rest of the world could go to the devil, for all Judy cared. She didn't need anybody else.
"Boy, oh boy, do you need to be taught a lesson," Eve snarled. Then her expression quickly faded to one of exaggerated martyrdom. "I wish your father was still around," she said, tearfully. "He'd know how to take care of you."
"But that wouldn't be so good for you, now, would it?" Judy snapped back, trying to counteract the painful reaction to her mother's words. 'What would you do without your rotten beer-drinking boyfriends and their big cars? How would you ever be able to feel good and sorry for yourself?"
Eve's face seemed to stretch and twist into a murderous mask of loathing. With a cry that ripped out of her throat like the sound of a wild animal, she lunged for her daughter.
"You fresh little tramp!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "I'll show you to talk back to your mother. I'll show you to open your big mouth..."
Judy giggled and ran out of the room, easily avoiding her mother's flailing arms. Despite the torrent of insults being hurled at her, she felt cleansed and satisfied. She'd reduced her enemy to a miserable mound of screaming, writhing hysteria. Just what the woman deserved, too, Judy felt certain. And that seemed to settle the score between them. For the time being, anyhow.
Outside, it was a beautiful day. Judy pushed open the screen door and walked out onto the sunlit porch. From inside the house she could hear the repeated whirring sound of the telephone being dialed. It didn't take long to guess whom her mother was calling.
"Good. Let her run to that ass," Judy told herself. She felt strangely powerful and in control, not only of her own actions but of everything around her. Never again would she knuckle under, she vowed silently. Nobody was going to make her miserable. From this day on she was completely on her own. And with Mel to help her, she knew she couldn't fail.
The quickening footsteps came closer, from behind her. Judy leaned forward in the rocking chair where she'd been sitting, and wondered if her mother was going to stop for another round before leaving. To her relief and surprise, the woman walked out of the door and down the front stairs, without so much as a glance in Judy's direction.
"Where are you going?" Judy couldn't resist turning the knife, a little deeper. She'd never known her mother to get dressed so quickly. Or to withdraw from an argument without having had the final word.
Eve Baker banged the front gate closed behind her and started away from the house without answering ... as if she hadn't heard the question ... as if she had no daughter at all.
Judy fidgeted for a few moments at that idea, but only until she realized that she was finally alone. Alone and free to call Mel.
Her hand was shaking so violently that she could hardly dial his number. Judy waited for a moment until she'd collected herself, and then started all over again. Any second now, and she'd hear his voice, she thought, her heart pounding. Any second and he'd tell her when they could see each other and be together again.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded strained and tired. Weak, and far away.
"Hello, Mel? This is Judy." She made a kissing sound into the receiver. "Good morning, darling."
"What time is it?"
"It's after one o'clock, already." Judy frowned. She'd expected a big, enthusiastic welcome. A loving 'hello, can't wait to see you!' Instead, Mel sounded as if he were on his last leg.
"Mel ... honey, are you there?" She felt the beginnings of concern jeopardize her optimistic outlook. "Did you just wake up or something?"
"Look, Judy. I can't talk to you now," he mumbled. "Let me call you back later. Okay?"
"Don't be silly," she forced a cheery voice. "I don't mind if you're the grumpy type in the morning. I'm like that myself sometimes."
"No, that's not it," he continued. "I don't think you understand."
"What's to understand?" she asked. "Aren't you glad to hear from me? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to give me the brush-off."
"Look, Judy ... just trust me. Will you please? This isn't the time or place to talk about such things. Really, it isn't. I know what I'm saying."
"Why not?" she persisted, feeling her own irritability rising again. "I had to wait until my mother went out before I could call you, you know. It isn't easy for me to get in touch. Besides, you forgot to tell me when we were going to get together again."
"I don't know, Judy. I can't say, right now."
"Well, how about this afternoon? I won't be doing anything special."
"What about your homework?" he asked. "You've got a lot of brushing up to do for that Regents, you know."
"Oh come on, that's not so important. Besides, I've got all weekend. Don't you want to see me?"
"Of course I do," Mel answered, sounding uncomfortable again. "That's not the point, Judy."
"Then what is?" She found it hard to follow his trend of thought. Older men could be so confusing, sometimes. "You haven't ... changed your mind about anything, I hope. Have you?" She almost choked on those words, but she had to know if that horrible fear in the back of her mind was justified.
"It's not a matter of changing my mind," Mel sounded completely miserable. "I wish I knew how to explain this to you, honey ... the crazy combination of circumstances ... and the liquor ... and my concern for you..."
"Oh ... that." Judy laughed and blushed warmly. So that's what he was so shook up about. She should have guessed.
"You don't have to worry about anything," she tried to assure him. "I'm not upset about what we did. In fact, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't you feel the same way?"
"Well, sort of..." he faltered.
And Judy could just picture him fumbling for the right words to express his feelings. How cute, she thought. Men were just like little boys, sometimes.
"Don't worry about a thing," she continued, trying to put him at ease. "I'm not going to run around telling everybody how we feel about each other. I'm not a kid, you know."
"Of course not, Judy, but that's not the point. What happened last night was one of those once-in-a-lifetime mistakes. A freakish kind of set-up that..."
"Mistakes!" She gasped into the phone. "What are you talking about? Didn't you mean what you said to me? Don't you want us to be together?" She felt the panic starting to cut off her supply of air. Her throat was closing and her mind felt like a sieve.
"It's not just a question of what I want," he said. "I'm a married man, Judy. And I'm old enough, practically, to be your..."
"I don't care!" she screamed, interrupting him before he could say what she didn't want to hear. "I love you. Doesn't that count for anything?" The tears began to run in wet stripes down her face.
"You just think you do, Judy," he said, very softly. "Lots of young people go through something like this. And later they find out it was all a passing stage in their lives."
"No, that's not true," Judy sobbed. "That's not the way it is with us. I thought you understood. I thought you felt the same way I did, after last night."
"Last night should never have happened," Mel said. "I know you're not going to believe me now, but what we did was terribly wrong. Wrong for you, and even worse for me."
"You're lying," she rasped hoarsely, hardly able to catch her breath. "You're just like all those other guys. All you wanted was one thing. And after that, the hell with me. You're just like Frankie ... and those guys on the road..."
"No, Judy, not at all. Please believe that. I don't want to hurt you. I'm just trying to be fair..."
"I hate you!" she screamed, as the world seemed to bounce and crash in around her. "I hate you!"
She slammed the phone down and ran hysterical from the room. That was it. The last straw. She was through with people. They all stank. She would never trust anybody again. Ever!
And she wished she knew how to shrivel up in some dark corner and die.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
'Very good, Mel. You handled that one just like a real pro."
Mel felt the telephone receiver drop out of his trembling fingers. An icy shock of awareness descended with staggering impact, rendering him mute and momentarily stunned. "What are you ... doing here?" he stammered, as he replaced the receiver onto its cradle and then searched frantically through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.
"I gather you didn't expect me back so soon." Phyllis nodded toward the silent phone, without moving from her position in the dining room doorway. She stood rigid, one hand clutching the pocket of her robe, the other fluttering nervously around the neckline. "Sorry I came in and spoiled your fun." She turned and disappeared into the adjoining room.
Mel stared stupidly after her, still not quite able to assimilate what had just happened. When he could move again, he got to his feet and hurried in her direction.
In the living room, he found Phyllis huddled in the corner of the sofa, clutching the rumpled sheet on which she'd slept. "It's not what you think..." he began.
"Oh, isn't it?" She smirked incredulously. "I'm not a fool Mel. I can put two and two together."
His knees turned to mush and he had to lean against the club chair for support. "How much did you hear?" he asked falteringly hardly able to breathe.
"Enough to put you in jail," Phyllis snapped, dabbing at her eyes furtively with a corner of the bed sheet.
"Oh..." Mel felt the panic and fatigue intensify about him like a lead shroud. He worked to make his brain function ... to try and invent some excuse that would mitigate his obvious guilt. Yet he knew there was nothing he could say that would get him off the hook. He'd been caught as good as red-handed.
"Just tell me one thing," Phyllis began rhetorically, in a soft weak voice. "Is this girl the first? Or has there been a whole line-up of sordid little affairs going on behind my back?"
"No, nothing like that." He hoped she'd believe at least that much. But the vacuous, far-away expression on Phyllis's face told him exactly what was going on in her mind. She was working herself up to a good one. This was the calm before the storm, Mel felt sure.
And then it began. He watched the first rush of tears well up in Phyllis's eyes before they began to tumble, unchecked down her quivering cheeks. "Come on, now. You're only making things worse for both of us." He started to move in her direction, but then stopped. He felt all arms and legs. A gangling, clumsy adolescent. There was nothing he could do, he realized. Except stand there and take it.
Mel waited resignedly for the onslaught of accusations he felt certain was to follow. It never came. A few momerits later, Phyllis reached into her robe for a tissue, blew her nose and turned to look out through the front windows. The silence and tension were unbearable. Mel puffed quickly on his cigarette and sat down heavily in the chair to wait it out. Sooner or later, he knew, the roof was going to fall in, right on top of him. Phyllis wouldn't miss an opportunity as juicy as this one to play the woman wronged.
"What am I going to say to my folks?" she wailed, finally. "How am I going to explain?"
"Explain what?" Mel came back to life again, appalled at her outrageous attitude. "What makes you think that you have to issue a newsletter to your family every time something comes up between us?" He paused, suddenly curious. "And speaking of them, how come you came back? I thought you were going to spend the weekend there."
"I was too embarrassed," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "When they asked where you were I didn't have the guts to tell them what had happened."
"Guts nothing," Mel thought aloud. "It's none of their business if we have a fight."
Phyllis lapsed into a poignant silence again. "May I have a cigarette?" she asked, after a while.
Mel lit one and handed it to her. Their fingers touched for an instant and he felt her draw back ... away from him. As usual, he thought bitterly.
Phyllis took a deep drag and settled back against the pillows. "Okay, let's have it," she commanded.
"Let's have what?" Mel answered, feeling his hackles begin to rise in protest.
"All the gory details," she said sounding as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. "How long have you been seeing this girl and what's been happening?"
"Oh, no you don't," Mel was surprised at the independent tone of his own voice. "I have no intentions of stripping myself to the guts in front of you. What's happened is over, whether you believe it or not, and I'm sorry. But that's all you're going to know. Take it or leave it."
"You rotten sonofabitch!" Phyllis screamed, turning on him like a cat about to spring. "Here you've been screwing around behind my back and now you're giving me ultimatums. Oh no, buster. That's not the way it's going to be at all. From now on I'm calling the shots and you'd better get that straight in your head. Or else!"
"Or else what?" Mel snapped back suddenly, fighting for his life. The hell with it, he told himself adamantly. He would do without Phyllis if he had to. She'd been as good as no wife at all to him, anyway. What did he have to lose, if she left, in fact? But he had to save his self-respect, at all costs ... or whatever was left of it.
"Or else you're going to have trouble like you never knew existed," Phyllis spat, venomously. "I heard that spicy little phone conversation you just had, remember? I know that girl is under-age. I can ruin both you and her, with one word to the right people. Now do you understand?"
Mel slumped down in his seat, defeated. Phyllis's threats rang like a death knoll in his ears.
"I can just see the headlines now," she went on. "Innocent young girl seduced by..."
"All right, shut up!" he screamed, jumping to his feet and striding the length of the living room. "I've heard enough. What do you want?" He wondered what it would feel like to wrap his fingers around Phyllis's soft neck and squeeze ... hard.
"That's better," she whispered, her tone thick with victory and satisfaction. "Now let's start all over again. Nicely, this time."
Mel stared out toward the road, waiting in tortured silence for the sentence Phyllis was about to pronounce on him. He wondered vaguely what would have happened if he'd gone and run off with Judy. The two of them in his car far away with nobody to criticize, nobody to make demands and pass judgments. He pictured the welcoming sweetness of her soft young flesh, tingling and alive beneath his fingers, warm to the touch of his lips. How great it would be to lose himself in the beautiful freshness of her, and forget about the rotten, selfish people out in the rest of the world.
No, that would never work, he admitted glumly. Sooner or later, she'd grow up and that would be the end of the line for him. Ideas like that were nonsense at his age. Unrealistic in a world of adults. Still he couldn't deny an imposing sadness that accompanied the loss of that beautiful young girl who trusted him and thought he was so strong.
"Are you listening to me Mel?" Phyllis's sharp tone knifed through his thoughts and spun him around to face her.
"Yes, Phyllis."
"School's over next week, right."
"Yes."
"Fine. We'll go and visit my parents then, and you can arrange with dad to start your new job."
Mel felt like he was going to be sick.
"And I'm sure the folks'll find us a nice place to live until this house is sold and we can buy a new one. Still listening?"
"Yes, Phyllis."
"And if you behave yourself and make sure never to see that girl again, I guess I don't have to make trouble. Understand."
"Yes, Phyllis."
"By the way, did I tell you about the very exclusive new country club that dad's been asked to join? I'm sure he can get us a membership, too. After all, I am his daughter, and..."
Mel stopped listening, as Phyllis continued to ramble. In his mind, he reviewed the conditions to which he'd been forced to agree. A dull pain began to throb across his forehead, making his hangover feel even worse than before. There were no two ways about it, he told himself. He was going to prison for his crime, with Judy.
Only this way, Phyllis was the jailer.
And the sentence was for life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
She was never going to set foot inside Marshall High School or any other school again. And that was final!
Judy sat, dejected, on the edge of her bed, toying with the cover of her English textbook. For what seemed like the tenth time, she glanced over toward the clock, ticking relentlessly away on her bureau. Eight-ten. She could still make it with enough time for a quick breakfast, if she hurried.
No, she repeated to herself, emphatically. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of ever seeing her again. Let him sit and wonder what had become of her. Let him rack his brain trying to figure out if she'd run away or thrown herself over a cliff or what. And then, after school, when he came racing up to the house to find her, maybe, and only maybe, would she speak to him.
Her insides trembled and she began to chew her lower lip nervously. Perhaps it really wasn't such a good idea to cut another day of school, Judy thought. After all, with the Regents exams and graduation so close ... The heck with it, she told herself, stubbornly. So what if she didn't graduate? So what if she flunked out in her last term? She didn't care. It didn't really matter. But even as she thought those things, Judy knew she didn't mean them.
Sighing resignedly, she stepped over to the mirror to check her appearance, one last time. Judy leaned forward and carefully examined the tight skin around her eyes. Nobody else would notice, she decided. The make-up had done its job. No one except herself would know that she'd spent most of the weekend crying. And over what, she asked herself disgustedly. Over a guy who wasn't worth it. A rotten stinker who was only out to get his kicks with some young girl. A smooth-talking rat who had to prove to himself that he could keep up with his students.
Boy, could she get even, Judy realized. She could fix him, but good, if she really wanted to. All she'd have to do was say a few words to the dean or to Detective Benson and that would be the end of Mel Davis in Carter's Crossing, or anywhere.
Just the thought of anyone finding out was enough to make Judy shiver, fearfully. No, she could never do a thing like that, she realized. But whom was she protecting? Herself or Mel? Probably a little of both, she answered sadly to her own question. After all, she did love him no matter what he thought.
Eight-fifteen. She grabbed up the rest of her books and hurried out of the room. The soft padding of her moccasins on the stairs seemed to be the only sound in the house. She wondered what had happened to her mother. It was too early for her to have left for work, Judy knew. Maybe she was sleeping late. Small wonder, considering she'd been out with Johnny until heaven-only-knew-when this morning.
"Good morning, Judy." Eve Baker smiled across the kitchen as she spooned a portion of scrambled eggs onto a plate. "You'd better move yourself or you'll be late to school."
Judy stared, admittedly dumbfounded at the sight of her mother's cheerful disposition. A smile and a good morning were the last things she'd have expected from the woman. Especially since they'd hardly said a word to each other after their argument on Saturday.
"What's the matter?" Eve asked, obviously amused. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Judy took her seat at the kitchen table without comment. This was too good to last, she told herself. Something was up. Mom wasn't the type to forgive and forget.
"Coffee?"
"Yes, please." Judy continued to stare, as her mother filled two cups and carried them to the table. Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "What's with you?" she blurted.
Eve set a container of milk in front of Judy and lit a cigarette, grinning mischievously. "You think you could stand a little good news?" she asked.
"Go ahead, tell me." Judy wished she knew what to prepare herself for. An unsettling feeling of uneasiness made it difficult for her to eat, but she forced a forkful of eggs into her mouth, anyhow. Surprisingly, they were tasty.
"I think I'm going on a little vacation," the words sounded more like a confession than an announcement. "That is, if you don't mind."
"Mind? Why should I mind?" Judy still hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.
"Well..." Eve paused, looking downward, shyly. "Johnny asked me if I wanted to take a little trip to New
York with him. He's got the time coming, starting a week from Friday. And I figured since you're not a baby anymore, really, I could leave you by yourself here, while I'm gone. I guess you're grown up enough to understand about these things, now. After what you said to me the other day ... and know..." Her voice trailed off in the middle of her sentence.
Judy had to smile, despite herself. She had never seen her mother blush before. And suddenly, she understood what the woman was referring to, and why she wanted to go away on vacation with Johnny.
"I don't mind," she shrugged, trying to appear more sophisticated and worldly than she actually felt. The idea of her mother making love with that big ape was repulsive. Each to his own, Judy figured. "Have a good time."
Eve leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the cheek, briefly. "Got to run now, myself," she said, quickly getting up from the table and crossing the room. "Have a good day at school, do you hear?"
"Yes, I hear," Judy answered with a broad, knowing grin, as she hurried to finish her food.
The main corridor was crammed with excited students, trading stories about weekend dates and homework assignments. Judy walked slowly, keeping her eyes straight ahead of her, feeling strangely aloof and removed from the familiar mob. At first, she thought it was the same old reasons setting her apart from everybody else. But then she realized that today was different. Very different.
It wasn't the fear of being whispered about or stared at that was separating her from the group. Instead, for the first time, Judy experienced a definite feeling of superiority ... A wisdom and awareness far above the grasp of these children among whom she passed. She felt more mature. More womanly. And the more she thought about it, the more Judy realized that she had every right to feel that way.
A pleasant onrush of confidence quickened her step as she made her way toward the other end of the hall. How long would this good mood last, she wondered, as she spotted the entrance to his classroom, barely twenty feet away. Would she crumble up and die inside, the minute she saw him? Or would she be able to stand on her own two feet and take this one more disappointment like an adult?
She paused then, aware that here was her last chance to turn around and run. Before he spotted her. Judy clutched her textbooks tighter against the front of her blouse and willed away the beginnings of a familiar fluttering inside of her. Facing Mel wasn't going to be easy, she knew.
But then, life wasn't supposed to be all peaches and cream once you stopped being a kid.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* * *
Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and Mel could have shouted out loud with relief and joy. She was all right, after all. She'd come to school, despite the feelings that must certainly be churning inside of her. His weekend of worrying and wondering whether or not he dared call was in vain. Judy sure was a great kid.
"I want you all to turn to chapter eight in The Scarlet Letter and read it now, in class," Mel said, when the students were all seated and orderly. "Judy Baker, will you step up to my desk for a moment, please?" He hated to have to announce her name like that in front of everybody, but he saw no other way out. He had to speak with her. The horrible situation between them had to be straightened out ... if such a thing were possible.
"You have ten minutes," Mel announced, anxious to distract the attention of those students who were following Judy's progress toward the front of the classroom. "I suggest you read quickly."
"Yes?" She stood in front of him now, slightly defiant ... very beautiful.
"Let's go out in the hall please," Mel said softly. "I want to speak with you."
She nodded without changing that defensive expression on her face and walked directly to the door.
Mel followed immediately after her, wondering if it had been his imagination or was there really something very changed about the girl, today. Maybe she was just fighting to hide her unhappiness under a mask of nonchalance, he thought. Maybe he really shouldn't attempt any discussion with her there, in school, where she might break down and make a scene in the hallway.
No, this was the only chance he'd have, Mel realized. It wouldn't be possible to call her or to slip away some evening for some time alone. Not the way Phyllis was keeping a hawkeye trained on him every minute. He'd have to settle things with Judy right here and now. The good-bye would have to be a brief one.
"I'm sorry I had to call you out this way, but there's no other way we can talk," he tried to explain, when they were on the other side of the closed door.
Judy looked up and down the hall, before she spoke. "That's all right," she said. "After what everybody has been saying about me, this should be nothing. What's on your mind?"
Mel recognized the tension and wariness in her tone and decided not to comment. The girl had every right to be mad at him. More than mad, in fact. He'd consider himself lucky if she came out of this without despising him altogether. And all men, along with him.
"I couldn't talk to you on the phone, Saturday," Mel began, for lots of reasons. "But I wasn't trying to give you the brush-off, as you said. Really, I wasn't."
She nodded, noncommittally.
"This whole thing has really backfired on me, Judy," he continued. "I'm in a jam up to my ears."
"What kind of a jam?" She seemed concerned and communicative, for the first time.
"This is a little embarrassing," Mel looked away and wished he could have a cigarette. "It seems that my wife..." He couldn't go on. He felt small, inane, mortified to have to admit such a thing to a sixteen year old girl.
"Found out?" she finished for him.
Mel nodded, solemnly. "She doesn't know who you are though, so there's no need to worry on that score."
Mel regarded the girl quizzically, trying to figure out just what was going on in her mind. She seemed cold, hardened in comparison to the way he remembered her.
"At any rate, you know we can't see each other again. Except in class, of course."
She nodded, and started to bite her lower lip.
Mel caught the watery glint around her eyes and felt like cutting out his tongue. How could he explain to her? How could he get across in sixty words or less what he himself didn't fully understand?
"In case you're interested, I meant all those things I said that night. I wasn't handing you a line just for convenience sake."
Judy looked up into his face, as if trying to determine there whether or not he'd just told her the truth. "Honest? " she whispered, softly.
"Honest."
She turned away from him, and Mel waited for her to compose herself again. "It was just a fluky situation, honey. A mistake. The biggest one I've ever made, really. If I were ten years younger and things were a little different..."
"That's okay. I think I know what you mean," Judy answered, obviously fighting to keep back her tears. "What's your wife going to do to you? Get a divorce?"
Mel shook his head. "No, I don't think so. She wants us to move away from here. That's nothing new."
"But what about your job?"
"I'll get another one. Don't worry about me. It's you I want to talk..."
"What kind of a job? Will you be able to teach someplace else? Will you like it?"
"That's not what's important," he sighed. "I've got to do what she wants me to. Especially now."
"What she wants you to?" Judy sounded very confused. "Don't you run your house? Doesn't she love you?"
Mel felt an unexplainable pang grip his chest and try to squeeze the life out of him. He wanted to run. To take the simple young girl standing before him into his arms and speed off, away from everything he'd ever known. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and organize his thoughts. He must attend to the girl, first. His needs could wait.
"Judy, let's talk about you, please. What are you going to do now?"
Judy shrugged, riredly. "I don't know really. If I graduate..."
"What do you mean, if?" Mel heard his voice rise louder than he'd intended. "Look. I know I have no right to ask you to do anything for me. But at least for yourself ... don't foul everything up, now with only a week to go. Don't you want to go to college?"
She laughed bitterly. "I never really thought about that, now that you mention it. I don't know where I'd get the money. My mother hasn't..."
Mel smiled, as he considered the perverse justice in what he was about to propose. "Do you want to go to college?"
"Are you kidding? Who wouldn't?" she asked. "If only to get away from all the talk and the house..."
"I'll tell you what," Mel interrupted, breathless with excitement as the scheme materialized quickly in his mind, strengthening him, mitigating his guilt. "You worry about passing the Regents' Exams and I'll see what I can do about a scholarship of some kind. How's that?"
Judy shook her head, skeptically. "Come on now. You know I don't have the average to win a scholarship."
"That's not always what's necessary," he started to explain, but then thought better of it. What the girl didn't know couldn't hurt her, he decided, as his mind strained to recall what the rules applying to trust funds were. He'd find out, Mel swore to himself. And somehow, without Judy or Phyllis knowing, he'd arrange for the money to be there for school.
After all, if he was going to work for his father-in-law anyway, there'd be more than enough cash to go around. It might as well do somebody some good.
"Well, I did start to review some of the assignments I'd missed, during the weekend," Judy said. "There wasn't very much else for me to do with all that time."
Mel felt the color rise up along the back of his neck. "Maybe that was just as well," he said, smiling weakly. "How about it, then? Is our agreement about that extra coaching still on? I'm game if you are."
Judy hesitated, and then broke into the first honest-to-goodness smile Mel had seen on her that day. "I suppose so, if you think I can make it."
"Well, what do you think?" Judy nodded. "I think so."
Mel was convinced that those words were meant to answer a whole lot of unspoken questions. And as they walked back into the classroom together, he decided that if a kid could pick up the pieces and start again, so could he.
