“Damndest thing, ain’t it?” Cy said. “Even livin’ way out here, I’m not immune to this nonsense. That’s what comes of sellin’ the land and makin’ a damn development.”
Eddie laughed. “If you call this a development, what would you call the developments in town?”
“Little cities, that’s what. Come on, Honey,” he said, taking Gina’s hand. “And please don’t start crying again. Your grandmother’s mad enough at me as it is, because I tried to give you a rabbit for a pet.”
Eddie took one more look at the basement and then followed them out. Gina ran into the house and Cy followed him to the patrol car. They both stood there for a moment looking out at the bushes and forest behind the house.
“Looks thicker than ever, doesn’t it?” Cy asked. “It don’t take long for Nature to come creepin’ back once you stop plowin’ and clearin’ what you have. Never seen things grow so fast and so heavy as they have this spring. It’s almost as if something’s gone berserk out there.”
“What kind of a way for an old-timer like you to talk?”
“Maybe I’m finally realizin’ I am an old-timer,” Cy said. “Hilda keeps remindin’ me I ain’t no spring chicken. ’Course, when people do things like this, it makes you feel you’ve lived too long anyway.”
“Hey, nobody lives too long,” Eddie said, but the old man was lost in thought. “Cy, I said nobody lives too long.”
“Right. OK, Eddie, thanks for your help,” Cy said and started for the house. Eddie watched him. He looked old, slumped over, tired. The scene reminded Eddie of his grandfather’s last days, how he began to lean over more and more, as though Death were a burden we all carried, one that increased in weight as we drew closer and closer to our end.
“I’ll get back to you, Cy,” he called. The old man simply raised his hand without looking back and then disappeared within the house.
Eddie looked out at the forest again. He wasn’t much of a woodsman, but he was a country boy and knew enough to respect the opinions of old-timers like Cy Baum when it came to reading Nature’s signs. Was there something unusual about this spring? The old man seemed almost terrified when he looked out there. Why? What did he see? What did he feel? Eddie thought, if there really were such a thing as a policeman’s sixth sense, it had begun to hone in on something … something that he had felt in the basement and carried out with him, and now something that he sensed out there.
He started the car and backed into the driveway, so he could turn around and go back to the Coopers. He tried to laugh at his anxious feelings, imagining what Barbara would say if he tried to describe it to her. This was just a prank committed by a couple of wild kids, wasn’t it? He hoped so, but he had no idea why he hoped so much.
When Faith awoke in the morning, she stretched and embraced herself sensuously, folding herself into the fetal position and cuddling around her pillow and blanket. The smile on her face revealed the deep, inner satisfaction that permeated her entire being. Never had she felt so alive and happy. It was the morning after and it was beautiful to lie here and remember.
It had been as Bobby had described: moving softly and quietly over the still, silver water, the stars dazzling above them when they reached the center of the pond, and the view unobstructed. For a long while, neither of them spoke. It was as though they both understood that the sound of either of their voices could break the spell. Bobby watched her as he rowed, dipping his oars rhythmically and gently, barely disturbing the water. Although there was a breeze, the night was warm, and the trees, with their rich, new thick leaves, served as protective walls around them.
Because the moon was behind him, Bobby’s face was in shadow; but she sensed the intensity of his gaze. A few moments after they had reached the center, Bobby put up the oars and stretched across the seat, letting his feet dangle over the side of the boat. He lay back on his hands and looked up at the sky.
“So what do you think of all this?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful. Do you come here often?”
“Whenever it’s like this. You’ve really never been down here at night?”
“I think … a long time ago with my father. I must have been very small.”
Bobby turned on his side to face her, his head against the palm of his hand, his elbow braced on the seat. Off to the right a screech owl turned the darkness into mystery. The silence fell between them like a curtain. When Bobby spoke again, his voice was softer.
“It’s weird to live next to someone so long and know so little about them, don’tcha think?”
“I don’t know. No, I guess it isn’t,” she added quickly. “How about people who live in the city? Sometimes they don’t know their neighbors on the same floor in the apartment house.”
“It’s always been different up here. We’re friendly with everyone on the street except…”
“Except us.”
“Yeah. What does your mother do all day? I can count on my fingers how many times I’ve seen her.”
“She has her work. I don’t want to talk about my mother,” she said and turned away. His laugh brought her back. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not really funny. It’s just that you change your moods so fast.”
“Do I?”
“Why do you keep to yourself so much?”
“I don’t know,” she said sadly.
“Because I think you have a lot to offer people.”
“I do?”
“Sure. You’re bright and pleasant and … very pretty.”
She didn’t say anything, but she felt herself swell up inside. A long, thin cloud crossed the moon and the darkened shadows slid over them. From way off in the distance behind them, they heard the sound of a car horn, reminding them that this natural hideaway was surrounded by the modern world. Even so, the sound died away like some part of the wildlife within the dark forest.
“You mustn’t think I’m just giving you a line.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not good at that. Actually, I’m pretty shy myself. It took all my nerve to go up your fire escape and talk you into coming out here with me. I was shaking all the time.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“I’ve seen you with other girls.”
“Some girls are easy, because they’re so aggressive. They start the conversations, not me. You know how long I’ve been working on getting up the courage to approach you?”
“No.”
“A long time, believe me.”
“Sure.”
“I can even tell you some of the things you’ve worn over the past few weeks—that blue skirt with the seam on the side, that one-piece dress with the ruffled sleeves, that locket you wear only on Mondays …”
“You have been watching me!”
“I told you. How come you wear it only on Mondays?”
“Superstition. My father gave it to me on a Monday,” she added softly.
“It’s really the only jewelry you wear, right?”
“Yes.” She thought how she had to hide the locket from Mary and put it on after she left the house, taking care to have it off before she returned.
Suddenly, he surprised her by sitting up and taking her hand into his. She didn’t resist, but she tightened up and sat up straighter herself.
“I’m not trying to be aggressive or bossy,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be as shy as you are and you shouldn’t lock yourself up in your house after school. You should be out there having some fun with the rest of us, and if it’s your mother who …”
“I said, don’t talk about her,” Faith interrupted. Her voice was filled more with fear than with anger.
“OK, OK. Would you get very angry if I tried to kiss you?” he asked.
“What?” He made it sound so simple. She wasn’t sure she understood him.
“Just what I said.” He leaned forward and then went to his knees, pulling her toward him gently. She let herself slide off the seat,
until she was on her knees, too. When his lips touched hers, she began to pull back. He held her shoulders firmly, but softly. She was drawn back to him; drawn back to the electric tingle that she had sampled; drawn back by another part of herself that had come alive in the moment—a part that shut out her mother’s voice, a part that made her aware of the stars and the moonlight and the darkness and his strong fingers urging her closer and closer, until their exploratory kiss became a hard, driving search for the secret of their sexuality. She let him bring his chest to her breasts; she enjoyed the feel of his arms around her and the way he moved his lips off hers and traveled down her chin, caressing her neck. It was only when she felt her body loosen completely, all resistance wane, that she experienced any panic; but when she pulled away, he remained there patiently until she came forward again, this time pressing her lips into his and turning her body comfortably against his, so he could hold her securely.
They remained like that for a while, cheek to cheek, him holding her, the boat drifting. His forearm grazed her breast, but, surprising herself, she didn’t jerk away.
“I’ve never kissed a boy like that.”
“Well, you couldn’t tell.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said.
“It’s the truth.”
He laughed, and she tightened up defensively in his arms.
“I believe you. All I’m saying is there’s nothing awkward or ungraceful about you. You are just what I thought you were.”
“And what’s that?” She sat up.
“As fresh and as beautiful and as new as each night sky.”
“I don’t know, Bobby O’Neil,” she said “you don’t sound like a very shy person to me.” He laughed again.
“For your information, you are the first girl I have ever taken out on this rowboat, daytime or nighttime.”
“I’m not sure I can believe that.”
“It’s true.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. Then they kissed again, a long, sensuous, deep kiss that made her feel as though the boat were spinning. She loosened her grip on him, letting her arms fall to her sides. He brought the palm of his hand across her breast and she stirred, turning herself into him. Then they heard a splash.
They both sat up quickly and peered into the darkness to the right, but they could see nothing. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Some animal, I imagine. A deer or a …”
“A bear?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We’d better get back, anyway. I can’t stay out much longer. It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous? What would she do if she found out?”
“I don’t want …”
“I know, I know … you don’t want to talk about your mother. OK,” he said, taking up the oars again and getting into position.
“Let me help,” she said, sitting beside him. She took the other oar and began. They laughed when their coordination wasn’t always perfect, but they brought the boat back to shore rather quickly. He helped her out and secured the boat. Just after they started back up the path, she paused to look over the pond once again. “It was beautiful,” she said. He thought she made it sound as though this were the last time she’d ever see it.
“We’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
He took her hand and they walked up to The Oaks. They kissed at the bottom of the fire escape, and he waited there until she was up to her landing. She waved and then went through her opened window into her room. After she was gone, he started for home, feeling elated and invigorated. He paused only once, because he heard something behind him. Studying the darkness, he could see nothing; but he felt a presence. It made him think of his brother, Billy, and that angered him because it changed his mood. It was enough of a change to quicken his pace and turn the warm darkness into something frightening. When he reached his house, he put that feeling out of his mind and thought about Faith, until he was in bed and sleep finally overtook him.
In her bed Faith lay awake for what seemed like hours. Every part of her had become so sensitive, so aroused. She relived Bobby’s kisses, tying the excitement of them to the pleasure of his words and the thrill of his touch. She tossed and turned so much, she thought she would never fall asleep. It finally came, surprising her, taking the thread of one of her fantasies and turning it into a dream that carried her into a restful repose.
After she had enjoyed the luxury of lying there awake in the morning, she rose quickly with the sound of Mary’s footsteps. Her mother was particularly loud this morning, as she went past her room and down the stairs. But Faith was determined not to be depressed by anything today. She was anxious to get dressed, have her breakfast, and get on that school bus, where she knew Bobby would be waiting for her.
At breakfast, Mary was unusually quiet. She sat reading a copy of The Torch, one of her religious journals, and behaved as though she were sulking. Faith eyed her cautiously.
“I’m going to have to stay after school today,” Faith said. Mary raised her eyebrows first and then looked over the paper at her. “I have to go to the library and do some research for my term paper in English.”
“Don’t you have time during the regular school day?”
“Not today. I have gym and music. I’ll take the late bus and walk from town.” Faith knew that Mary understood the late bus didn’t bring students to their homes, but just took them to central locations.
“Maybe I can pick you up,” Mary said. Faith felt that she was studying her face for a reaction.
“Oh, that would be nice if you can, but if you can’t…”
“I’ll see. I have some errands. If I’m not there when you arrive in town, start walking.”
“OK.”
“Whatever you do, don’t take a ride with strangers.”
“I won’t.”
“Even some of these neighbors are questionable,” Mary added. “Not that they’d offer you a ride, I imagine.”
“Oh, some of them do.”
“Really? Who?” she asked quickly.
“Mr. Baum and Mrs. Cooper have stopped for me in the past.”
“Busybodies, both of them. Probably poked you full of personal questions.”
“No, not really. Mrs. Cooper asked how you were, that’s all. Mr. Baum didn’t talk about anything but the weather.”
“Even so, be careful.”
“All right.” She stood up. “I’ll fix the garbage before I go down to the bus. Heard skunks in it last night.”
“Last night? When?”
“Early. Before you came up.”
Mary simply nodded and went back to her paper, but Faith thought there was definitely something different about her today. She looked sneaky, almost as if she were anxious for Faith to leave, so she could plan something. Faith wondered about the baby again. She wished Mary had gotten up first and left the kitchen, so she could have tried to reach him through the floor.
“I’m going,” she called from the door, but Mary didn’t reply. No warnings, no commands, just silence.
Faith stepped out and closed the door softly behind her. The porch had a fake foundation. In it they kept their rakes and shovels and other tools, some of which hadn’t been taken out since her father’s death. She pulled out the rake and a small shovel and went around to the side where the garbage cans were, so she could gather up the loose material that the animals had scattered. They had two cans. One was on its side and one was upright with its lid on.
She stopped and studied it—there was garbage strewn about the upright one. Had Mary been out to clean up? That didn’t make sense, since there was still much litter remaining. She shrugged and went forward, uprighting the other can and scooping up what she could. After it was refilled, there was still a good deal of garbage left. She raked some of it onto the shovel and then took the lid off the first can. She lifted the pile of litter with the shovel and held it over the container; but she never dropped it within, for she caught the mo
vement inside and leaned over to look.
When she saw the rabbit, she nearly screamed.
Eddie Morris left the Coopers convinced that the Cooper kids had nothing to do with Cy Baum’s problem. Florence Cooper was the only one at home, but Eddie knew her well, and knew that she was quite candid when it came to her children. She had the look of a person who hated deceptions—her brown eyes always locked tightly on the individual to whom she was speaking. She often came to the point with a sharpness that bordered on downright cruelty.
“My boys are hell raisers, Eddie,” she told him. “I’m the first to admit it. When the teachers call me from school to complain, I don’t put up any arguments. I know what they’re going through; I go through it here! But,” she continued, changing the tone of her voice, “they’re not vicious kids. They wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone’s animals. Why Buddie won’t even go hunting with Grant, and he gets all riled up when Grant bags a deer and brings it home to butcher.”
“Yeah, well, this might have started out as a prank and ended up something else. Sometimes kids don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. I’ve seen it dozens of times.”
“Last night you say?”
“Yeah. Had to be during the night.”
“Leaves them out, Eddie. I had them both upstairs doin’ their homework as soon as they finished dinner. We got some bad news from the school. Both of them are failing two subjects just because they don’t do their homework. Grant’s already taken away their biking privileges.”
“If you say they were home all night, that’s good enough for me, Flo. Appreciate it.”
“I feel sorry for Cy Baum. Wish I could solve it for him.”
“Me too. Give my regards to Grant,” he said and left. He thought about stopping back at Cy’s house to let him know it wasn’t the Coopers, but decided that wasn’t much of a result. Not having a good lead might make him and Hilda more frightened, too. He decided to go on. It stood to reason that whatever happened, it happened within the neighborhood; so he thought he would visit each house.
He hesitated at The Oaks, almost deciding to pass it up. He knew as much about Mary Oaks as anyone in the community, and he had known Tom Oaks well. He had the misfortune to have been on duty the night Tom was killed. He still had a vivid recollection of him and Bill Campton going up to the house to tell Mary Oaks Tom had had a fatal car accident.
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