Paxton went to the employment office of the newspaper while she was there, and despite Mr. Wilson’s offer to smooth the way for her, she didn’t take advantage of it, and managed to get hired for a summer job while she was on vacation from Berkeley from June to August. She was looking forward to it, but now anything that would take her away from Peter depressed her. And that bothered her too. She didn’t want to be totally dependent on him, and there was still so much she wanted to do with her life, to fulfill the promises she’d made herself. But he had promised he would wait, and she knew he would. He had repeated that promise again and again when he had called her in Savannah over Christmas.
She had agreed to fly home the day before New Year’s Eve, and her mother seemed to be so involved with George and Allison and her own friends that Paxton didn’t think she’d really mind it. She even admitted to them that she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with her friends at school, and although her mother said she thought that “unkind of her,” she actually seemed to accept it. George took her to the airport again, after Paxton spent a quiet morning in the kitchen with Queenie. She had developed her annual chest cold by then, and Paxton had made her promise she would go to the doctor.
Paxton’s mother had gone to the hairdresser before she left, and had said good-bye to her earlier that morning. And as Paxton prepared to say good-bye to George, she told him to give her best to Allison, and he almost flinched at the familiarity with which she said it.
“You two are serious, aren’t you?” she couldn’t resist asking him in the intimacy of the moment. Intimacy was a word which her brother hated.
“I have no idea what that means,” he said with a tone of icy annoyance, and she couldn’t help laughing softly. He had just turned thirty-three, and if he hadn’t figured it out by then, he was in serious trouble. “It’s most unladylike, Paxton, for you to ask that.” The thought came into her head of how comfortable Peter and Gabby were and it made her sad to realize how different her own life was, and how stiff and stilted her relationship with her only brother.
“I think she really likes you, George. And I think Mother likes her.” It was all she could say that was true. She didn’t want to lie and say she liked her.
“I’m sure she does,” he said miserably, wishing his sister hadn’t asked the question.
“Take care of yourself.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and without another word, took her bag from his hand and walked toward the plane with a last friendly wave in his direction. Peter had done a lot for her. She couldn’t bring herself to play their game anymore, the game of frozen feelings, and constant restraint, and endless silent dinners. And as George watched her go, he thought unhappily of what was happening to his sister in California.
When Paxton got off the plane in San Francisco this time, Peter was waiting for her, and her feet barely touched the ground once he saw her. He swept her off her feet and into his arms, pressed his lips onto hers, and held her tight as they laughed and kissed, and passersby smiled as they watched them. It was nice to see young people in love like that, it warmed the heart, and reminded people of what they had once felt like.
“Oh, God, I missed you,” he said fervently as he finally set her down and they walked slowly toward the baggage claim arm in arm. “I didn’t think I could stand it another minute.”
“Neither could I.” She beamed.
“How was Savannah?”
“Awful!” She told him again all about Allison, and George, and her summer job, and everything Queenie had said about them, and with regret, she mentioned how withdrawn and distant her mother had been. “I think she still feels betrayed because I went to Berkeley. That, and I guess she’s always been like that but I see it more now, because now I’ve seen something so different.” Like the Wilsons.
“It doesn’t matter, babe. You have me now.” It was a brave thing to say and it touched her heart. But still, a tiny part of her was still afraid to rely on him completely. What if he changed his mind, or went away, or fell in love with someone else … she had learned a long time since that it was very dangerous to love someone completely. She had learned that lesson a long time before with the man she’d loved so deeply, the man who’d been everything to her, and then it was all over in a single moment, when his plane crashed.
“What are we doing tonight?” she asked happily as they walked to the garage for his jalopy. She didn’t really care what they did, just so she could be with him. She had never been as happy in her life. Maybe her friends in Savannah were right, the ones who were married and having babies. She had told him about them, too, and about how strange it made her feel, but he understood that she wasn’t ready for that yet. He seemed to understand everything, and she had never loved him more as they sat in his old car and kissed until neither of them could think straight.
“What are we doing tonight?…” He tried to make himself think, as she laughed. “I was going to drive you back to Tahoe tonight, so we could spend the weekend there. But there’s a storm and they’ve closed Donner Pass. We’re going to have to wait till tomorrow morning and see if they’ll open the pass then. Do you want to go to dinner and a movie?”
“Sure.” He drove her into town, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to spend the night at her dorm at UC, or in the guest room at the Wilsons’. His parents and Gabby were still away, and all the help was off, but he insisted that there was no reason why she couldn’t stay there. “Do you think we’ll behave?” she asked him honestly while she tried to make up her mind about it.
“Do you want me to behave?” he asked her, holding her gently.
“I’m not sure what I want anymore, Peter … I keep thinking we have to wait … for that too … and then I look at my friends, and think I’m stupid.”
“Don’t look at them,” he said gently. “Look at me, look at you. I’ll do whatever you want, Paxxie.”
She smiled gratefully at him. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” She didn’t want to sleep alone in a lonely dorm. In fact she wanted to curl up in bed with him. She wanted much more than that, but she still believed she shouldn’t do it. She was almost nineteen, and he was turning twenty-three. They were old enough to get married, to have kids, to do a million things, and yet they weren’t supposed to make love yet because they weren’t married.
When they got to the Wilsons’ house, he carried her suitcase upstairs for her, and then went back downstairs to look for the paper to pick out a movie, and she felt wonderfully at home just being there, in the grandeur of the place that had been built by Ed Wilson’s father. And she laughed as she sat down and looked around the pretty guest room. The fabric was a pretty pink flowered chintz, the carpet a pale, sunny yellow, and the bathroom was all pink and white marble. It was every girl’s dream, and so was Peter.
“How about Goldfinger, the new James Bond movie?” he suggested when he came back upstairs with two beers and a bag of potato chips he held out to her. “Did you eat on the plane?” He suddenly realized she might be really hungry.
“I ate twice.” She smiled. “I can’t eat a thing.” She had kicked off her shoes and changed into her jeans. She felt as though she’d come home again, just being there with him, as he sat down on the bed and curled up close to her.
“You can’t begin to imagine how I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she said softly as she put her arms around him and they kissed, and slowly they rolled back onto the bed and they lay there for a long time, kissing and holding each other and touching and stroking. They were quiet and at peace in the cozy room, and after a little while, he stopped, and seemed to look around them.
“I never realized how much I love this room. Or maybe it just seems like it’s yours now.” He smiled, kissed her again, and held her closer, drinking in the subtle scent of her perfume. She wore Femme, and he loved it. The word itself made him think of her. Woman. “Maybe we should get up.” He looked at her hesitantly, wondering if they should, because he was beginning to feel
as if he didn’t want to.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess we should.”
They got up. She put on a warm sweater and her shoes, and they went out to the movies. They went to the Hippo for a hamburger afterward, and they were home long before midnight. He kissed her goodnight in the hall outside her room, and then went upstairs to his own room. As always, they had talked about a thousand things they cared about that night, their families, their friends, their views, and now their future. And she was already in her nightgown, and still thinking of him, as she heard a soft knock on the door a few minutes after he had left her.
“Yes?” She knew who it had to be, because they were the only ones there.
“It’s me,” he said with a grin as he poked his head inside the door.
“That’s good news.” She laughed. “I figured if it wasn’t, it had to be a burglar.”
“I miss you,” he said, looking like a little kid, and as he opened the door, she saw that he was wearing red flannel pajamas, and he laughed as he saw her looking at them. “It took me ten minutes to find these or I’d have been here sooner.” They both laughed, and she felt young and happy and in love as she walked slowly toward him.
“I miss you too,” she said softly, and without a word, he switched off the light, and they stood in the moonlight streaming in the windows.
“I don’t know what to do, Pax … I don’t want to do anything that’ll hurt you … now or later … I love you so much … but it’s … it’s hard to keep my distance.”
“I don’t think I want you to.” They sat down on the bed, just to talk, and then they were kissing again, and lying on the bed, and she was in his arms, and he gently pulled off her nightgown.
“I just want to look at you.” He said it so softly, so gently, and his whole body ached as he looked at the sheer beauty of her in the moonlight. She was long and lean and beautiful and perfectly carved, like a beautiful pink marble statue. “Oh, God … I love you …”
And she loved him, too, and without hesitating, she unbuttoned his pajamas, and they lay there for a long time, holding each other close, and not daring to do more, yet wanting so much more than that, wanting everything they each had to give, forever. He stroked her long silky hair, and ran his hands gently over her breasts and down her thighs, and then back up again, barely daring to come closer to what he wanted. But it was Paxton who decided it for him. She couldn’t bear it any longer. She wanted him too much, and she gently peeled away the bottom of his pajamas, revealing his urgency, his fervent desire for her, which he could no longer control as he held her.
“Paxxie …” he whispered hoarsely, “are you sure?…” But she only nodded with a smile and then kissed him, as he gently rolled her over on her back, and pushed her legs apart with his own and sought what she had saved for him until that moment.
He was infinitely gentle with her and there was almost no pain, there was only passion and desire and youth, and the gifts of love they had to give each other. They lay in each other’s arms all that night, making love again and again, and in the morning, when he awoke, she lay there beside him, her hair fanned out across his arm, her face like a child’s, sleeping, as with one hand she held his, and he felt a tear sting his eye as he watched her. She was what he had dreamed of all his life, what he had wanted, what he’d hoped to find one day, and only she knew now how much he loved her.
CHAPTER 6
The rest of the school year seemed to fly by, with only a few very important events to mark it. Over Christmas, Viet Cong terrorists had bombed the Brinks Hotel in Saigon where the American officers were housed. It was Christmas Eve, and officers had come from all over Saigon to share a celebration that ended in shock and grief. Two were killed, and fifty-eight wounded. And once again, Lyndon Johnson refused to retaliate by bombing. Another attack ensued. And finally, on February seventh, the President ordered the first major bombing raids against the North. And two and a half weeks later, “Operation Rolling Thunder” began, the first sustained bombing of Viet Nam. And two weeks after that, the first ground combat troops arrived. On March eighth, the Marines landed in Da Nang, after years of futile “advisers.”
Two weeks after that, the American embassy in Saigon was attacked, and the American public began to understand that we had a serious problem in Viet Nam.
At the same time, in the States, the National Guard was obliged to protect the Selma-Montgomery Freedom March, and the University of Michigan staged the first antiwar teach-in.
But the teach-in didn’t stop the war, and the bombing didn’t stop the Viet Cong. Supplies were still reaching the South by the elusive Ho Chi Minh Trail. And there were more antiwar protests on Armed Forces Day in May. And Peter and Paxton participated in the one at UC Berkeley.
It was almost the end of the school year for them. And Paxton was getting nervous about leaving him to go back to Savannah. The thought of not being with him every day seemed almost frightening to her now. She couldn’t imagine a day without him.
He had volunteered for the law project he’d talked about. And he was planning on spending most of the summer in Mississippi. But he had promised to come and see her whenever he could. And she was going to be working in Savannah, on the paper. Gabby was to go to Europe with her parents again, and she had pooh-poohed the idea of getting a job when her father suggested it to her. She had promised to get one the following year but she wanted to play “just this last time,” on the Riviera with friends, and in Paris with her mother. Ed Wilson had scolded his wife for indulging her, but like Gabby, she felt that “one more year” wouldn’t hurt her.
All three of them left Berkeley on the first of June. Peter and Paxton spent a quiet weekend at a cabin he rented at Lake Tahoe, and they lay in bed together for the last time before they separated for the summer.
“I’m going to go crazy without you,” he whispered as he nuzzled the long golden hair. “It’s going to be so lonely in Mississippi.”
“Savannah’s gonna be worse,” she said glumly, but they forgot everything as they fell into each other’s arms again, and it was a long, happy weekend. His parents suspected that something had happened between them, and so did Gabby, but neither Peter nor Paxton admitted anything. They were together all the time, and their grades were excellent, so no one could complain. And Peter, Paxton, and Gabby had already agreed to look for a house together for the fall so the threesome could live off campus. Paxton knew that the secret of their affair would be obvious to her then, but by then they’d be willing to tell her. It would be worth it, in order to enjoy the luxury of living together off campus.
Gabby left San Francisco first with Marjorie. They were flying to London to visit friends, and stay at Claridge’s, before moving on to Paris. And then Paxton left, waving sorrowfully to Peter at the airport. And he left the same afternoon, in time to reach Jackson, Mississippi, for a voting protest that wound almost a thousand people in jail. Peter was among them, and he was quickly bailed out, and felt as though he had been appropriately christened.
Paxton’s introduction to her job was a subtler one, and she was bitterly disappointed to discover that she had been assigned to the editor who covered social news, and she was left to coordinate reports of who was entertaining whom, wearing what, and what the Junior League and the Daughters of the Civil War were doing. It was a job her mother Anally understood, and actually had a certain respect for, and at the same time it left Paxton feeling utterly useless. She would sit at the newspaper and watch the teletypes in despair, reporting sit-ins in Alabama, and the doubling of our ground troops in Viet Nam, raising the total to a “mere” hundred and eighty-one thousand men, numbers that were staggering. And Johnson doubled the draft that summer. Paxton knew that some of the boys over there were boys she had gone to school with, and in two cases, their younger brothers. One had already been killed, and she couldn’t bear to hear it. And suddenly it terrified her. What if, in some insane way, they managed to get Peter?
She called him almost
every day and he called her as often, and in late July, he managed to come up from Mississippi for the weekend. He had planned to come up earlier than that, but he had been in jail twice, and the job he had was far more demanding than he had expected. But Paxton had never looked happier than when she took a cab and picked him up at the airport. He swung her into his arms, and he looked handsome and tan, his hair the same golden color as her own as he kissed her.
“Boy, is it good to see you!” He grinned. “I’m so tired of bailing people out of jail, I can hardly see straight.”
“Not nearly as tired as I am of garden parties and afternoon concerts! Christ, I thought I was going to be doing something meaningful, and I’ve done nothing but write about my mother’s friends all summer.”
He grinned at her and kissed her again, wishing they could go to bed somewhere on the way in from the airport. “How is your mother, by the way?”
“Same as ever. She can hardly wait to meet you.”
“Oh-oh. That sounds dangerous.” He kissed her again. He couldn’t stop kissing her. It had been almost two months since he’d seen her. But she was just as hungry for him. She had rented him a room in a nice quiet hotel just outside town, where she wasn’t likely to run into her mother’s friends, and she told him that as they drove into Savannah.
“May I make a suggestion?” He grinned and leaned over to kiss her in his rented car.
“Anything you like.” She was beaming.
“How about checking out the hotel on the way home?” He grinned mischievously and she laughed.
“That sounds like an excellent idea.” She was all his. She had taken two days off from the paper, in spite of a very social wedding they had thought she should cover.
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