“I’m hoping he re-cracked his frigging ribs.” Cassie bent to look into the oven, then slammed the oven door. “What are you smirking at? It’s not funny.”
“No, but you are,” Marcia said. “Well, I’m disappointed. I was really hoping to meet this guy.”
“They went to some dopey concert at Dartmouth.”
“Oh, the Concord String Quartet?”
Cassie gave her a disdainful look. “Yeah, I guess so. If you want to see a picture of him, there’s one sitting on the shelf in the music room.”
Marcia went out and came back with a grin on her face. “Hoo-ey! What a doll! Did he ever tell you what happened to him in Boston?”
“No, he won’t talk about it.”
“Maybe you can get it out of Grant.”
“Oh, sure. I’d have a better chance of getting information out of this lasagna.”
Marcia pulled a cigarette from her bag and prepared to light it. “Anybody mind if I smoke?”
“They would, but too bad. You’ll have to use your coffee cup for an ashtray.”
“So, what’s this ‘do’ you’re going to tonight?”
“A potluck for the Fast Squad and the Fire Department. They do this every year around Valentine’s Day.”
“How romantic. All the most virile men in Chatham in one room!”
“Oh, right.”
“Except Sonny, of course. What’s he up to these days? Living with his ma, I hear.”
“Marcia, why do you always ask me about Sonny when you always know more than I do anyway?”
Marcia blew a long stream of smoke into the air above her head and gave Cassie a coy smile. “It sounds to me like there might be more action around here in the future, Sonny-wise.”
“I highly doubt it. She’s not going to take Sonny over Shane.”
Marcia frowned at her. “I can’t believe you really don’t care about Sonny anymore, not after eight years of being nuts about him. You’ve done this before, you know.”
“Maybe so, but this time it’s for real.”
“And if he’s really interested in this Shelby? Can you handle that?”
“Pooh! Do you know how far that will go? She’s got too much class for Sonny. She’s been to college. She’s rich. She goes to concerts. She’s from Boston, for Pete’s sake!”
“But, of course, all that doesn’t apply to you and Shane.”
“Why would it?”
“You used to think Grant McIan was too good for you, and he’s from Chatham!”
“And I was wrong. Grant’s great. Shane’s even better. And it doesn’t matter if the man’s better educated anyway. I just don’t think the woman should be.”
“I see. Well, maybe you could work out a swap, Grant for Shane.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to Shelby about it.” Cassie pulled the lasagna from the oven and covered it with aluminum foil, then looked up at the clock. “Okay, Grant, where the hell are you?”
“Probably thumping on some old guy’s chest somewhere trying to breathe life back into the dead. Has he ever gone galloping off to the tune of his little red beeper when you were in the middle of a good screw?”
Cassie frowned at her in surprise. “Marcia, how do you come up with these things?”
“Too much television, I guess.” She grinned at Cassie and took another drag on the cigarette. “Well?”
“I won’t be answering that.”
“Well, I’d sure get P.O.’d if it was me! There’s enough old farts on the Fast Squad sleeping with their wives who can go. I’d grab him by his hairy little balls and make him stay.”
Cassie shook her head. “Jeez, you’re something.”
A truck door slammed outside, and Grant stomped his way into the kitchen, pulling off his gloves and unzipping his parka as he came in. He smiled a greeting to Marcia, who said, “Long time no see,” and he kissed Cassie on the cheek, saying something smelled wonderful. Cassie left the kitchen to get ready to leave, and Grant hung his parka on a chair. He watched Marcia walk to the sink and run water over the stub of her cigarette, then drop it into the garbage.
“I hope that was out cold. We don’t want any fires tonight.”
“At least not in garbage cans,” she answered. “So how are you?”
“Good. And you?”
“Fantastic, as always.”
Grant smiled. “So what’s new on Deerkill Road?”
“New? Not much. Teddy’s on the road until next Thursday. What’s new with you?”
“Waiting for sugar season to start.”
“How are things with Cassie?”
Grant’s smile widened. “You’re her best friend. You tell me.”
“Do you like the Concord String Quartet?”
“I prefer Marshall Tucker. Is this relevant to anything?”
“Just checking.”
Cassie came into the kitchen wearing a hooded black cape that flowed gracefully over the folds of her long skirt. “Shelby’s,” she said. “I can’t close my coat anymore. Okay, I’m ready.”
Marcia and Grant put on their coats while Cassie wrapped the covered lasagna dish in a checkered kitchen towel and put it in a basket. “Come by again when the rest of the family’s home,” she said to Marcia as they walked out of the house.
“I will,” Marcia answered. “Well, have a blast. And may no beepers go off all night.” She grinned at Cassie and winked at Grant, then slid into the driver’s seat of her car.
“What a character,” Cassie said, shaking her head.
Grant held the basket while she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck, then handed it to her without answering. He knew Marcia had to be discreet about her activities for fear of Teddy ever finding out, but he still worried about what she might reveal to Cassie. He had not been to visit Marcia since he began spending time with Cassie, but he wasn’t sure how Cassie would react to such knowledge of his past.
She seemed somewhat down as they drove across the Center to the Community Building in Chatham Flat, and he worried about that. More and more, he was coming to care for Cassie, but he wasn’t sure how she felt about him. She had accepted his invitation for tonight with a minimum of enthusiasm, yet had insisted on providing the lasagna when he said he didn’t expect her to do the cooking. He hoped it was just her progressing pregnancy that had her feeling blue, but he feared it might be more. Sonny had been back on the job for two weeks now, and Larry had told Grant about seeing Sonny and Shelby on a hayride a couple of days before. He remembered seeing the sled and the team in the dooryard when he gave Shane the ride to Hitchcock, and both of them had wondered then why it was there. Grant had worried that Sonny had come back to court Cassie once more. He had been glad to hear it wasn’t so, but perhaps Cassie did not share his relief.
The big, multi-paned windows of the old schoolhouse on Chatham Flat poured festive squares of light out onto the ice-encrusted snow. The parking area around it was filled with cars and trucks. John Millstone had brought the Rescue Unit rather than his own car, and Engine Three from the North Chatham station was in the lot as well. Inside, the large room was filled with people milling among white-covered tables, the air filled with the buzz of conversations and the smells of good food. Grant and Cassie hung up their coats and added their dish to the rest waiting on the long buffet table, then moved into the crowd to say hello. Between them, they knew every man and woman in the room.
They soon parted company, with Cassie joining the women in the small kitchen, and Grant moving on to join the men. He noted that Blake and Donna Penfield were both there, although they were no longer living together. Blake was a member of the fire department, and Donna an officer in the women’s auxiliary.
Cynthia and Leon Dumaine, she the head of the Fast Squad, he the Fire Chief, called for everyone to start the buffet, and Cassie joined Grant once more. They filled their plates and sat at one of the many long tables abuzz with lively conversation.
After dinner, a short meeting was held and awards were handed ou
t. Clay Beaumont had responded to the most fire calls, Grant to the most fast squad alarms. Each was teased for being home doing nothing most of the time, and a round of good-natured bantering ensued. Then the tables were pushed back and the floor cleared for dancing to cassettes that someone had brought.
Grant and Cassie tried a waltz, but her belly was definitely in the way, so they settled on the sidelines to watch the others. She noticed his foot keeping time to the music and encouraged him to ask someone else to dance. But he was content to sit with her and was there looking out over the crowd when Blake came up and asked her to dance.
Cassie shook her head, but Blake persisted, reaching for her arm as she pulled it away. No alcohol was served at these events, but apparently Blake had brought his own, for his breath was heavy with beer and he seemed slightly off-balance. Grant quietly suggested that Blake leave her alone.
Blake stood before them, his bleary eyes narrowed as he peered at them. “Fuck you, Grant,” he slurred. “Speakin’ o’ which, you be sure to ask her about our little tumble in the hay, okay? This little lady gets around.”
Cassie’s face blanched, and Grant was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed Blake by the arm and pulled him toward the outside door. The stupid grin on Blake’s face was replaced by a startled frown. “Hey, I was only kidding, Grant. Just having a little fun.”
Grant opened the door and yanked Blake out into the cold night air. He grabbed his shirt front and pushed him up against the clapboards beside the front door, his face inches away as he said, “If you ever go near her again, I’ll make sure you never get another job in the whole damn valley, do you understand? I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted so bad, you won’t be able to dig a ditch for free! And I know enough people, I can do it, Penfield, starting with Shelby and Shane.”
“Yeah, hey, no problem,” Blake said, trying to free himself from Grant’s grip.
“I want you to go home now, Blake, so you don’t ruin anyone else’s evening, you hear?”
“You can’t make me go home if I ain’t ready,” Blake sneered.
“What would make you ready? A broken nose?”
Clay Beaumont came out the schoolhouse door with Blake’s coat in hand. “Go back in, Grant. I’ll take him home. Come on, Blake, I’ve got a six-pack in my truck. You can have it when we get to your place. Let him go, Grant. Cassie’s falling apart.”
Grant released the drunken man to his friend and went back inside. A few couples were dancing, but the mood was now subdued. Cassie stood in the narrow kitchen with her back to the door, surrounded by several women who were trying to soothe her. He could see her shoulders rise and fall as she cried.
He went back to the coat rack and retrieved their coats, carrying the cloak into the kitchen to drape over her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, but she would not turn to face him. He leaned forward to speak softly in her ear and the women moved away. “Cass, it’s okay. He’s gone home. Let’s go.”
She took a deep breath to stop herself from crying, but made no effort to turn around.
“Cassie, I don’t care what the jerk said. I just want to take you home or wherever you want to go. Come on, honey. People here know Blake’s an ass.”
Cassie dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips and turned to leave with him, keeping her eyes from meeting those of anyone else in the room. Her Aunt Lucy handed Grant the basket with the empty lasagna plate and checkered towel and gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. He held onto Cassie’s arm across the icy parking lot and helped her up into his truck, then rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. She sat with her eyes trained on the dashboard in front of her, her face rigid and expressionless.
“Back to the farm?” Grant asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to see Shelby.”
“Where then? I’ll take you wherever you want. Your dad’s. Marcia’s. Or you can come home with me. It’s up to you.”
“I need ….” Her voice caught in a sob. “I need somebody … somebody to talk to.”
“Can you talk to me? Or is that … not good?”
To his surprise, Cassie turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her wet cheek to his ear.
“Is my house okay?”
She nodded and released him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as he started up his truck.
Grant filled the woodstove in his living room, then went into the bedroom where Cassie lay, fully clothed, on his bed. The entire cabin was cold, and so he covered her with a blanket, then lay beside her, holding her hand. A soft glow from the oil lamp beside his bed crawled up the wall beside her. She stared at the ceiling of the small room, her face an expressionless mask.
“This isn’t Claude’s baby,” she said softly. “It’s Blake’s.”
Grant forced himself not to react, although he could not keep from closing his eyes for a long moment.
“Are you shocked?”
“Sort of.”
“He doesn’t know. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anyone to know. Do you understand that, Grant?”
“Yes. But why Blake?”
“It was rape.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I went to talk to him last summer, about Sonny. I wanted him to help me understand what was going on, why Sonny was always so distant. I never expected Blake to …. I didn’t realize he was like that. I’ve known him all my life. I went to him for help, and I was upset. I had a few beers with him—Donna was at work—and the next thing I knew, he was all over me and … oh, god.” She started to sob.
“You don’t have to tell me any more,” Grant said gently.
“I tried to fight him off, Grant, I really did, but he’s strong as a horse. I almost got away from him once, but he grabbed my skirt and I fell and …”
“Cassie …”
“He was drunk, Grant, and I don’t think he even thought that he was raping me. He thought he was doing me a favor, that I wanted it because I said Sonny never touched me …”
“Cassie, why the hell didn’t you tell someone?”
“I couldn’t. I was afraid of what Sonny would do. You know what a terrible temper he has. I didn’t want Sonny to kill his own brother. And I thought no one would have to know, except then I got pregnant. And I panicked. I had to come up with someone to be the father, because I knew my dad would beat it out of me. So I said Claude because I knew he wouldn’t care as long as I didn’t ask for money. I finally told Marcia the truth, but I made her promise never to tell. She’s wanted me to tell Sonny ever since, but I can’t.”
Grant drew a deep breath, knowing he could very well end up regretting what he was about to say. “If you told Sonny,” he said slowly, “and he knew your baby was a Penfield, don’t you think he would accept it and marry you?”
Cassie kept her eyes directed toward the far wall. “It doesn’t matter. Things have gone too far. Too much has been said.”
“Speaking from experience, I’d say that’s not necessarily true. It may not be too late now. But it could be if you wait much longer.”
“Sonny has never loved me. To him, we were always just friends. I don’t know why, but it’s true. Just one of those things, I guess.”
“He never kissed you?”
“Sure, he kissed me. Sometimes we went further. But never all the way. He’d always stop, even when I didn’t want to.”
“For all those years? That’s not normal.”
“I think he was getting it somewhere else.”
“Oh? Why?”
“I don’t know. I just do. Someone who all the men go to, so he wouldn’t look any worse than anybody else. Maybe Dixie Banner. I’ve heard she’ll do it with anybody. She’s like a … what’s it … a nymph …”
“A nymphomaniac. Why didn’t you just go on the Pill?”
“I said I would, but he still wouldn’t do it. I think he was afraid I’d expect him to marry me some day if we did it, and he didn’t want that. I told you. He never loved me.”
“I find
that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.” Cassie’s eyes were closing now; she had exhausted herself physically as well as emotionally.
“Why don’t you get ready for bed before you fall asleep with all these clothes on?” Grant said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Cassie reached out and touched him with her hand, resting it on his arm as she said drowsily, “Mmm, don’t go away.”
“Come on.”
She slowly worked her way off the bed and began to slip off her wool skirt. Grant went outside, and when he returned, she was under the covers wearing the over-sized shirt he had left on the bed for her. He undressed to his long underwear and slipped in beside her. Lying on his side, he pressed against her back, resting his arm on her hip as they lay like spoons.
Lonely Souls Page 16
