by Regina Doman
She drove to the fair, parked the car, and hurried through the gravel lot, her face flaming but her insides tight. Entering the fair with a wave at the ticket booth attendant, she made her way through the thin crowds of cheerful people in colonial costume. She was hot and more bothered than usual by the farce of it all. She worked her way among the craft and game booths until she found the place where Paul and the girls usually juggled. When she got there, Paul was there alone, playing on his flute. At that particular moment, he had no audience.
She walked up to him, cutting off his song. “Where are the girls?” she asked.
He lowered his instrument and looked up at her. “They’re off getting us some lunch.”
“Fine. Then come with me. We need to talk.”
“All right.”
He packed up his flute while she waited, seething inside. When she was certain he was following her, she walked away.
She deliberately picked a path behind the booths that led out to the field behind the festival. She walked quickly to keep well ahead of him, not desiring to make any small talk that might put him at ease.
When she had walked a good distance out into the waving grass of the field, she turned on him.
“What’s the deal with your spying on us?”
She saw by his reaction that he had guessed already the reason for her fury, and that only made her angrier. “What do you have to say?” she demanded when it was clear he didn’t feel the need to explain himself.
“I told Melanie that she should tell you if she felt it burdened her conscience,” he said. “She’s suffering, Rachel. She’s been suffering for some time to keep your secret. I hope you can see that.”
Breathing hard she said, “Did my father hire you to spy on us or something?”
“No.”
“But you’ve spied. And pried. And now you know everything we’ve been doing.” Scorn spilled over into her words. “What are you, a peeping Tom? Too afraid to show yourself? Or are you some kind of sicko? I cannot figure you out! You talk about being honest and open, and yet, here you are sneaking around, spying on us in the dark.”
He was staring beyond her, red-faced.
“Why are you doing it? Is my dad behind it? He is, isn’t he? I knew he would try something like this! You military guys! What, do you have to obey him because he’s a colonel?”
“No.”
“But he did put you up to this, didn’t he?” she demanded again.
Paul was silent, and she began to be afraid. Seeing her predicament, she was very cold.
She gripped him by the arms, trying to get him to look at her. “Paul. You have got to promise me that you are never going to tell him. Do you know what will happen if you do? Do you?” her voice was getting shrill, and soon she was almost yelling in his face. “Promise me!”
“I can’t.”
She dropped her hands and stared at him in contemptuous disbelief. “So. You know what it will do to us. But you’re going to do it anyway. So that you can be proud that you did the right thing. Oh, Paul, you’re so holy.” And she slapped him across the face.
Paul stood, his face slapped to the right, breathing hard, blinking. He hadn’t moved, but Rachel suddenly became aware of how tall and muscular he was. She felt a sudden new fear creep through her, even though he had not even looked at her. His eyes were on the ground, cast down where her blow had forced them.
Her chest tightened, and she backed away. “You’re going to be sorry,” she said, her blood racing through her forehead. “You tell him anything, and you’ll be sorry.”
She stumbled, turned, and raced back to the car. Already she knew what she was going to do. Her throat was closing and her hands were quivering, but she forced herself to the task.
She drove home and walked inside, holding her hands so that no one else would see them shaking. In her mind she knew what she was going to say.
Her dad was in his home office, on the phone. She stood at the door and waited for a minute that seemed infinite. Finally he hung up. She walked into his office, shut the door behind her, and looked at her father. His face was surprised and perplexed.
“Rachel, what’s wrong?” he asked.
I’m doing this for all of us, she thought. To protect our secret.
“Dad,” she said with an effort. “I have to talk to you about something.”
“What about? Sit down.”
“Paul,” she said, and forced her knees to bend, to sit on the chair. Finally she sat on the edge.
She hadn’t planned the silence, but it was a moment before she could bring out the words. “He tried to force me to kiss him.”
He leaned forward. “What?”
“He tried to force himself on me,” she said again. “He didn’t want me to tell you, but I had to. He’s been watching me for some time. He’s been watching all of us sisters. And then, this morning—I just told you what he did.”
Her father sat back in the chair and she knew that she had ruined Paul. Whatever he told her dad now would seem like excuses. She had done it. Told a lie, a real lie, with intent to hurt. The tears came up into her eyes, and she tried to push them down. Darn it, she was not trying to dissemble. She was really crying.
“Does this have anything to do with you both being out so early in the morning together the other day?” her father’s voice came into her mind. “I heard you come in.”
The other day—the day the night-world had abandoned her on the beach. Yes, it was the night’s revenge—the sand was in her mouth again. She could feel its dryness. Was it too great a price to pay?
“No,” she whispered. “I mean, yes.”
“Rachel, I think you and I should have a talk with Paul. Can you handle that?”
The girl who had once been Rachel Durham nodded.
“What happened to your face?” Debbie asked Paul. “It’s all red.”
Paul put a hand to his cheek.
“I didn’t turn the other cheek in time,” he said, a bad quip. “What’s for lunch?”
The girls had brought back historical food for lunch—beef sandwiches and apple cider drinks. He started to eat his portion, with the mere semblance of enjoyment.
“Ready to start again?” he asked.
Debbie said, “Hey, look! It’s Dad and Rachel.”
Paul’s stomach churned again, and he pushed aside the food and got up. Colonel Durham approached him, every inch of him full of formidable military bearing. Rachel, her arms folded, was not looking at him.
“Debbie and Linette, Rachel’s here to drive you home.”
“Why?” Debbie demanded. “We’re only halfway done.”
“Pack up and go wait in Rachel’s car. Is it open, Rachel?”
Rachel, her hair blowing across her cheek, her eyes distracted, nodded.
Debbie started to object, but Paul said, “Go ahead, girls. Listen to your dad.”
“Corporal Fester, I’d like you to come and talk with Rachel and me.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
Paul followed them away from the fairgrounds to the car. Colonel Durham and Rachel got in the front, and he got in the back.
Colonel Durham put on the engine and the air conditioning, but didn’t move the car. Instead, he turned around in the seat and looked at Paul.
“Corporal, Rachel has told me something I find quite disturbing.”
Paul listened in silence to the ugly accusation. He looked at Rachel while the words came out. She was in profile, her tanned cheek smooth, her brown brows furrowed and set. Her blue-green eyes seemed to have faded. They were dead, empty.
So that was it. She had jumped ahead, taken the advantage, and tried to destroy his credibility, because of the information she now knew he had.
He heard the faint snap of the ropes that held his trapeze wire, and felt himself hurtling to the ground.
Now Rachel turned and glanced at him quickly. Maybe she expected him to speak, to lash back at her, to attempt to reveal anything, now that he was accused.
&nb
sp; He was silent.
There was a chance—a slim chance—that there was another trapeze bar he could catch to break his fall. In order to seize it, he had to trust again, and fall, open-armed.
“Rachel, could you please leave us now and take the girls home?” Colonel Durham asked.
The girl with the secret seemed to dare him to shoot her down. But as he saw her get out of the car and walk away, her hands were clutched tightly around her.
“Corporal Fester, is what she said true?”
Paul looked in the eyes of the older man, eyes that looked tired and worn, though his warrior’s jaw was set.
What could he say?
It’s not true. But his word against hers: he couldn’t prove it.
Tell him everything. At this point, that would destroy everything.
A voice inside was telling him what a fool he was for getting involved in this situation, with an army colonel’s family, none the less. Paul’s military record, his entrance into medical school—he could see it all dissolving like sand through his fingers.
But I risked all that when I said yes to this.
At last, he managed to say, “Colonel Durham, I’m not sure how to answer that. Perhaps it’s best if I just stay away from your family from now on.”
There was a silence while the two looked at each other.
At last, Colonel Durham looked down, his voice steady with an effort. “I agree. I guess it was a bad idea from the start. I think you should leave now.”
In his mind’s eye Paul saw the last trapeze bar he was groping for swing away from his outstretched hand as he continued to fall.
“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Colonel Durham, are you going to report this to the police?”
Colonel Durham looked up abruptly, surprised. “I’m not sure.”
“Ask Rachel if you should,” Paul said. “Goodbye then.”
He got out of the car, and walked back to the fairgrounds to pick up his juggling bag. The police could find him easily enough if they wanted him, he had no doubt of that. All the same, he felt a sudden urge to leave town.
sixteen
Rachel, are you out of your mind?”
Tammy was the first one to say something after Rachel had told them. Rachel sat on her bed, her arms wrapped fiercely around her knees.
“You lied, Rachel. You lied to Dad about him,” Taren said.
The other sisters were sitting around the double bed. They were all there, except Melanie, whom Rachel had seen fit to occupy with some task downstairs. Rachel looked around, and saw horror and dismay on all their faces.
Angrily, she spat back, “there was no other way. Don’t you see that what I did, I did to keep our secret?”
Miriam choked. “Yeah, but it was totally unnecessary. Up until now, there hasn’t been any actual lying involved. No one’s questioned us so we haven’t had to lie. But this is different.”
“How is it any different?” Rachel demanded, hot and flustered. She had expected more support than this. After all, she was the one who had had to lie. It hadn’t exactly been easy.
“It’s just different,” Brittany spoke up. Her jaw was thrust out, but her eyes were sad. Cheryl stood next to her, her arms folded, her face white and strained.
“Look,” Rachel kept her voice quiet with an effort. “Obviously, Dad brought Paul to meet our family in order for him to spy on us.”
“Paul’s not a spy,” Debbie cried. The other sisters hushed her, and she subsided.
“Someone had to do something to destroy his credibility, so that Dad wouldn’t trust him any more.” Rachel pointed out.
There was silence.
“No,” Miriam said.
“What do you mean, no?” Rachel shot back.
“You jumped the gun, Rachel. You should have consulted us. If Paul was going to tell Dad, he could have told Dad a long time ago. And we would have found Dad standing by the cave waiting for us with a Bible and an M16. But nothing has happened. Therefore, Dad doesn’t know. Therefore, Paul hasn’t told him. Therefore, he probably wasn’t planning on telling him, until this happened.”
Rachel looked around. The other sisters were nodding—even Prisca, who had been silent until now, was bobbing her head.
“He’s a geeky spy, but he’s an honest one,” Prisca said.
“He’s not a spy! He’s just trying to protect us,” Linette said. “That’s why he’s been coming with us.”
“Yeah,” said Debbie. “Like he protected Melanie that one time.”
The others turned on the two youngest sisters.
“What! You’ve known about this all along!” Taren said.
“Melanie didn’t tell me you two knew,” Rachel said angrily.
Debbie flushed. “I’m glad Melanie told you,” she said. “She hated hiding it from you.”
But Linette looked angry. “Melanie could have kept our secret,” she said, folding her arms.
“Secrets! Secrets! There was only supposed to be one secret, one that we sisters shared,” Rachel said, glowering at the youngest girls, who shrank down. “Then you two started keeping secrets from the rest of us. We used to be unified. If you two had told us about Paul right away, this never would have happened.”
“That’s true,” Taren said, glaring at Linette.
“Well, he wasn’t doing anything but following us and watching out for us,” Debbie protested. “And he’s our friend. I don’t think he would want us to get in trouble. But I think he was worried when we started going to the island. I think he was being our bodyguard.”
“Oh, please,” said Rachel.
“He saved Mel from being thrown into the tree, that one time when Mark made her dance with him,” Debbie said, and the other girls looked at her in surprise.
“Is that why she didn’t get hurt?” Miriam asked. “I saw her go flying towards that tree, and I was sure she would be knocked out.”
“He came out and pushed her out of the way just in time, then disappeared again,” Debbie said.
Rachel flushed despite her iron will. She and Prisca had been in the cave with Michael during that episode.
“So what is Dad going to do to him?” Liddy turned back to Rachel suddenly. “Did he say?”
“I think he told Paul to stay away from our family,” Rachel said.
Debbie’s face crumpled and she put a pillow up to her face and sobbed. “It’s not fair!”
“He didn’t do anything except try to be our friend, and you—you slandered him!” Linette accused Rachel, her large brown eyes filling with tears. She threw herself on the carpet and cried.
Rachel covered her face with her hands and waited for them to shut up.
But the younger girls kept crying. Miriam leaned over to Rachel and spoke in her ear. “Listen Rachel, normally you’re pretty sharp. But this time you made a big mistake.”
Abruptly Rachel got up and went over to the secret door. She pushed it open and slipped inside. As the door snapped shut behind her, she heard Becca say, “Man, she is getting bizarre.”
If she had a boat of her own, she would have gotten into it, revved up the engine, and driven over to the island. She stood on the beach, gripping her arms, wishing with all her might that Michael would hear her soundless call, drive up on his boat, and sweep her away. She would tell him about Paul’s spying. He would agree with her, she knew. He understood about the need to preserve secrets at any cost, about preserving independence. And privacy.
I did it for freedom, she told herself fiercely. I need that freedom.
At last, not wanting to arouse suspicions, she stalked back to the house and started doing her chores before supper. She had a headache.
She took over preparing dinner single-handedly. When each of her sisters trickled in to do her assigned chore, she said, “Leave me alone. I’ll do it,” in a cold voice. And each sister readily gave her the space she desired. Only Melanie hovered on the edge of the counter for some time, but when Rachel looked up at her, she saw at once that her
younger sister had heard about the lie, and was crushed. Unable to deal with this, Rachel turned her back and went on working.
She browned the ground beef, chopped onion, sliced carrots and celery and garlic. She made the broth, seasoned it with fresh spices from the herb garden. She boiled the macaroni, shredded cheese, and tore up lettuce for a salad. She stirred up a new pitcher of iced tea.
While she worked, Brittany and Melanie set the table. She heard her dad come home, but he didn’t come into the kitchen. She heard Sallie come in from shopping with the baby boys, and heard Robbie and Jabez start chasing each other around the house. She heard Sallie showing her daughters some new sandals she had bought for them.
“I don’t understand how you girls keep wearing out your Sunday sandals so fast,” she remarked.
All of this went on around her, but her mind was engaged elsewhere. Meanwhile, she slid dirty dishes and cutting boards into the kitchen sink, wiped up the counters, scrubbed the stains from the stove while the stew cooked. She drained the macaroni. She dressed the salad and slid it onto the end of the counter, for the table setters to carry out.
Then her dad was standing in the kitchen doorway. “Rachel,” he said. “I’d like to speak with you in my office.”
It was as though she had a commanding officer instead of a father. “I’m cooking,” she said.
“Get one of your sisters to finish it for you. I want to see you, now.”
Blinking back tears, she pursed her lips and shouted, “Miriam!”
Cheryl came in. “I’ll finish dinner, Rachel.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said distantly, and handed her the wooden paddle she had been stirring the stew with. She shouldered off her apron and hurled it onto the counter.
Down the hallway to the office, she walked, shut the door behind her, and threw herself down in a leather chair, looking out the window at the trees outside. “What?”
Her father looked at her silently. She finally looked over at him, and saw he was holding a thin stack of papers.
“I just received these from your sisters,” he said.
He put on his glasses, and picked up the first one and began reading it.
