There was another pause, a longer one. At last Diane said, “Well, I don’t have very much time, but maybe you could come up for just a few minutes. Would that be all right?”
“Yes, that would be all right. But it would be better if you could meet me somewhere.”
“No. I can’t do that. No one’s home right now except me and Jacky. I’m baby-sitting him until Mom gets back from her hair appointment. So I can’t go away.”
“Okay,” James said. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
As he went up the driveway, she was leaning over the deck railing. She was wearing a tight black tee shirt and shorts made out of artificial tiger skin with yellow and black stripes. Her hair was different, more sophisticated looking, with two smooth wings sweeping back to an upturned fringe on each side of her head, and she’d done something new with makeup that made her eyelids look faintly blue. She looked older and sleeker and more sexy than ever. When he was halfway up the drive, she greeted him with a double fisted, “Ka-pow!” and when he got to the top of the stairs she took both his hands and kissed him. A brief kiss, but enough to make him think that so far everything was going better than he had dared to hope.
In the trophy room Jacky was curled up on one of the leather couches fast asleep; but when James started whispering, Diane told him not to bother.
“He just climbed up on the counter in the kitchen and ate half a cookie jar full of rum balls,” she said. “He won’t hear you.”
Not only Jacky’s eyes, but his whole face looked squeezed shut and he was breathing very deeply. One pudgy pink fist was clamped around the golf ball so hard that the knuckles looked white.
“Is he all right?” James asked uneasily.
“Oh sure. He does it all the time. Stuffs himself and conks out. Like a boa constrictor.”
She led the way to one of the other leather couches and sat down. “Okay. So what is it that you want to show me?” she said.
Of course, he made her promise first. Promise on her word of honor that she would never tell anyone. And then he took the picture out of his pocket and put it in her hands. She stared at it for a long time before she said anything. She turned it over, looked at the back, turned it back, stared at James for a moment and finally said, “Where did you get this?”
“I took it,” he said.
“Where?”
“Not too far from here.”
“Did you get close enough to count the prongs? It looks as if there must be ten or eleven.”
“Twelve,” James said.
She stared at him. “Are the points in more or less the same places on each side, or are they all uneven?”
“They’re very symmetrical.”
She shook her head muttering something under her breath. “When did you say you took this?”
“Early in July.”
“I thought so. They look as if they were still in velvet. They probably grew a little more after this was taken.”
“A little,” he said without thinking.
She looked up sharply. “You mean, you’ve seen it recently?”
“Well, I’ve seen him since then—since July.”
“You’ve seen this buck more than once? In more or less the same place?”
He reached out suddenly and tried to take the picture out of her hands, but she held on to it. Still staring at it she said, “Do you realize what a—I mean, how unusual this buck is. They just don’t ever live long enough to get to be like this anymore. Especially not in California. And this one would be amazing in Colorado or anywhere. My dad would go out of his mind.”
He took the picture away and put it back in his pocket. “Listen, Diane,” he said. “I have to tell you about this deer.”
“Yes,” she said, “tell me.” She took both his hands and held them all the time he was talking.
He thought he did it pretty well—explained about the deer’s importance as a beautiful part of nature, as a symbol of the wilderness as it once existed—and as a personal symbol, mysteriously significant. And as he talked she listened intently, even more intently than he had imagined she would, her eyes shining and her lips slightly parted.
When he finished she said, “That is so beautiful, Jamesy. The way you told that. And it’s all so amazing. The way you really sort of tamed it. Tamed a wild buck. That’s really an incredibly beautiful thing.” Taking his face between her hands she kissed him hard, and, of course, he kissed her back. Then they went on kissing and each kiss was a separate swinging spiraling high, and if there was anything at all going on in his mind it was just a groggily exultant refrain that kept repeating itself over and over. “It worked. She does understand. It really worked and she really understands.”
They might have gone on more or less indefinitely, but there was the sound of a car in the drive and then the slam of the back door, and Mrs. Jarrett’s voice calling, “Di. Jacky.”
When Diane called, “Here we are, Mom. Down here.” Jacky started waking up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. James eyed him warily.
“I told you,” Diane said, “he won’t throw it at you anymore. You don’t have to worry.” But just as before James felt that Jacky’s brown marble eyes were saying something not quite so reassuring.
Upstairs in the kitchen he chatted for a while with Jill Jarrett, who couldn’t quite conceal her surprise at seeing him back in the running, and then Diane walked with him to the end of the drive. In their favorite grove they kissed again, but briefly because Diane said she really did have to get back to get ready for her diving lesson, and then they said, not good-by, but until tomorrow.
“Until tomorrow. Will I see you tomorrow?” Diane said.
“All right, tomorrow,” he said. “What time should I come over?”
“Well, how about very early? Early enough so we could go on a long hike. Could you, James? It would be so wonderful if you could take me to where you saw the deer.”
There was a kind of shock, like a small jab of lightning. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think…”
“Please. If I promise and promise not to tell anyone?”
He didn’t say yes, even though she begged him to with her hands folded, and then with her lips against his in a moist, “please, please, please.” And finally, while tickling him all over and saying, “Say yes. Say yes. Or I’ll never stop.”
But he didn’t tell her that he would take her to see the deer. All he actually said was that he’d think about it and tell her when he saw her tomorrow. And that evening he did think about it a lot more and decided that as much as he would like to tell her—and there was a part of him that definitely would—he couldn’t and wouldn’t do it.
It wasn’t exactly that he didn’t trust her. Or, if he didn’t, he at least was able to explain and excuse her possible untrustworthiness in this particular area. He could understand how she might promise now, and really intend to keep her promise, not realizing how hard it would be and how much pressure she might be under at some time in the future. He could picture a situation when the Jarretts had returned to The Camp for the hunting season and when he, himself, wouldn’t be there to remind her of her promise, and of a different set of values where the deer was concerned. There would be all the pressure of the competition to get the best trophy and the knowledge of what a bombshell she could drop by revealing the deer’s existence. It would be just too much of a temptation. He finally went to sleep still trying to figure out the best way to break the news to her that they wouldn’t be going on a hike, or at least not on that particular one, tomorrow morning.
He woke up early the next day, but he was still only half-dressed when he heard Charlotte calling him. A second later she knocked on his door and then stuck her head in.
“James. Oh, good. You’re up.” Her voice was matter of fact, but her face was making a surprised, quizzical comment of its own. “You seem to have company.”
In the kitchen Diane was sitting at the table next to William, eating a piece of toast. After
the few seconds it took him to get over his surprise, James made a stab at introductions, but Diane interrupted.
“Oh, never mind, James. We’ve already introduced ourselves. In fact, we’ve had enough time to get to be old friends, haven’t we, Dr. Fielding.”
Diane was wearing pants that fitted like Levi-colored skin and one of her famous tee shirts, and when she said, “Haven’t we, Dr. Fielding,” she leaned toward James’ father and smiled one of her most dazzling smiles. And judging by his expression, William was dazzled, or at least a little astonished.
“Yes. Yes, indeed,” he said, but then as Diane went on smiling at him he said, “Charlotte,” and it sounded a little like a call for help.
Charlotte sat down by Diane and got her attention by passing her the toast plate. “Another piece of toast, Diane?” she asked.
“Oh no, thank you, Mrs. Fielding,” Diane said. “I’ve had plenty. And James and I really have to be going. We were planning to get a very early start, weren’t we, James?”
“Well,” James said. “I don’t know—”
“That’s all right. There’s still time, and we forgive you for oversleeping. Just hurry and eat something so we can get started. Here. Sit down here and have some of this good toast.”
He should have gotten things straightened out right then, at the beginning, instead of giving the impression he was going along with her plans: but it wasn’t easy. Not with his mouth full of toast and with Diane chattering away about the wonderful farewell hike they’d planned to a great picnic spot way up near the top of the first ridge in the Six Prong range. She went on and on about it, describing their destination in such detail that it occurred to him that he hadn’t really given her enough credit where imagination was concerned. In a very dramatic and vivacious way, she told about a waterfall and a beaver dam they hoped to see and how she had staggered out of bed at five-thirty that morning to make a picnic lunch for them. There wasn’t really an opportunity for James to say anything at all; and by the time he’d finished eating, Charlotte and William were saying good-by and telling them to be careful, and they were out the door and on their way down the path.
He did try then, as soon as they were alone, to tell Diane about the decision he’d arrived at the night before, but she went on arguing and promising and coaxing in all kinds of persuasive ways, and somehow they kept on walking in the direction of the valley.
At one point he did stop dead in his tracks, when it suddenly occurred to him that they might run into Griffin and the kids. He hadn’t told Diane about them, and he didn’t intend to, because if she knew he’d already shared the secret, there would be absolutely no way he could refuse to tell her. But what almost stopped him was realizing how Griffin would feel if she knew he’d told Diane. They were almost to the river crossing when it hit him, and he sat down on a rock and began telling Diane that he’d just come to a firm decision. But then she sat down on his lap and started messing around and running her hands up and down his back and the back of his neck and kissing him, and in the midst of all that he remembered what Griffin had said about meeting Laurel at nine-thirty every morning. Glancing around Diane’s head at his watch, he realized that if they hurried they could get into the valley, see the deer, and be back out again before Griffin and the kids reached the river crossing. Somehow, he just quit struggling, then, except for trying to get it over with in a hurry.
Things moved very quickly after that. Diane proved to be a surefooted and confident mountain climber, and she was very enthusiastic about the valley, particularly about the strange way the avalanche had cut it off so completely, except for the cliff trail. She kept talking about how amazing it was that James had managed to find it, and how impressed she was by his ability as a woodsman and explorer. And then they reached the flat boulder and almost immediately the deer came out into the meadow.
He stopped very briefly at the edge of the grove, tested the air and then came on again. Leaving the shelter of the trees he moved confidently out into the morning sunshine, his fantastic head held proud and high. When he reached the center of the meadow, he stopped and waited—for the gift James had taught him to expect.
CHAPTER 15
WHEN THE DEER came out into the meadow Diane’s reaction certainly left nothing to be desired. Where Griffin had only sat staring and chewing on her fingers, Diane raved. Clutching James’ arm she babbled excitedly in disjointed sentences. The deer was wonderful, marvelous, unbelievable, one-in-a-million; and James was wonderful to have been able to tame him. Questions tumbled over each other. How had James managed to keep such a wonderful secret—what were those red ribbons on its horns—did it really let James tie them there—and why did he tie ribbons on its horns? Fortunately she never waited for an answer. Would it let her touch it—and, no, she didn’t suppose it would—and she wouldn’t really want to try—and how amazing it was that it would actually come when it heard people talking, and just stand there waiting like that only a few yards away.
“Waiting?” James said uneasily.
“To be fed,” she said. “Here James, take him my cake, and my sandwich, too. Let’s give him my sandwich. I don’t want it.”
So he fed the deer and then suggested that they ought to leave. He was afraid she’d want to stay and see the whole valley and watch the deer some more, but to his surprise she agreed without argument. On their way back across the cliff trail he checked his watch. They had been in the valley no more than twenty minutes.
Diane went on being particularly warm and friendly and agreeable most of the way home. When she wanted to stop to rest near the river crossing, he was able to convince her that he knew of a better place a little farther along. And when they got to the place he had in mind, safely away from the route Griffin and the kids would be taking, she continued to be affectionate, except that she never stopped talking. She went on and on about how wonderful the deer was and how grateful she was that she’d gotten to see him. Then she insisted that they eat the lunch she’d brought, even though it was only a little after ten. But when they’d finally run out of food and conversation, and James was trying to get some other things started, she suddenly got restless.
“I really ought to be starting home,” she said. “My mother is packing today, and I promised I’d be back in time to help her. Come on, Jamesy. You can walk home with me. At least as far as the gate. Okay?”
So they said good-by at the west gate, and she kissed him five or six times and told him to call her in Sacramento and come to see her as soon as he could. And when he asked her to, she promised again that she would never tell anyone about the deer.
“At least, not until you’re an old lady,” he said. “When you’re an old lady, you can tell your grandchildren about him. But no one before then. Okay?”
She put her arms around his waist and leaned back so the winglike fringes of blond hair fell back from the sides of her face. Raising her eyebrows in the way she always did when she was going to say something suggestive, she said, “Okay. When I’m an old lady, I’ll tell our grandchildren all about it.”
He laughed and tried to kiss her, but she ducked away and pushed the buzzer, and a moment later the guard was asking who went there, and Diane said she did, and then she was through the gate and disappearing among the trees.
When he got back to the cabin, William and Charlotte were just sitting down to lunch. “So that was Diane,” Charlotte said, making a kind of stunned expression.
William was grinning too, in a very appreciative manner. “Very impressive,” he said.
James tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “That was Diane Jarrett, in the flesh.”
His father chuckled. “Not a highly original turn of phrase,” he said, “but in this case a singularly descriptive one.”
James was starting to ask exactly what he meant by that when Charlotte interrupted. “Is she really only fifteen? She seems so—well, fully matured.”
“I know. That’s what I was t
rying to tell you.”
“Yes, I know. But somehow I didn’t get the full picture. Well, Max is certainly going to be impressed.” Charlotte had always been amused by Max’s world-famous-ladykiller routine.
“I know,” James said grinning.
In fact that was one of the things he fantasized about that night—about Max’s reaction when he met Diane. Lying there in bed on that next to the last night at New Moon Lake, he pictured Diane’s first visit to Berkeley, and the conversation he would have with Max afterwards—a conversation in which Max would say he certainly wouldn’t have wasted time feeling sorry for James for being carted off to the wilderness if he’d had any idea that the wilderness had terrain like that to explore.
The next morning he spent several hours helping his parents pack for the trip home. As usual when the Fieldings went anywhere, most of the luggage consisted of books and records and several dozen file boxes full of notes for William’s latest book. By the time they’d finished, the poor old Volvo was sagging on its springs.
James pushed hard all morning, determined to get his part of the packing done early in order to have most of the day for his own personal good-bys. Diane had said her family had all sorts of last-minute things scheduled and she probably wouldn’t be able to see him, but that he should at least call if he got to The Camp. He was planning to do that first. Then there was Fiona and, if possible, Griffin and company. And, of course, there was the stag. It would have to be a quick visit late in the day, but he really wanted to see him one more time to say good-by.
As seemed right and proper, Sergeant Smithers himself was manning the main gate to answer James’ buzz and demand to hear his pass number: the whole ridiculous number, after an entire summer of opening the west gate on the average of twice a day for a James Fielding whose rather distinctive voice—youthful and yet masculine—had surely become familiar to him by now. James recited the number with gusto. It was an appropriate farewell gesture from The Camp—a memento to take back with him to the drab rationalism of the academic world.
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