by Sandra Brown
“You forced me down into the mud, held my arms and legs, and took turns raping me. That’s what you did, Lamar.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned.
“Apparently your recollections of that night are cloudy. Mine are not. Neal slapped me several times while telling me to shut up. Hutch was the roughest. He hurt me the most.”
Lamar’s skin took on a greenish cast beneath the hall chandelier.
“You were hesitant, but you did it just the same.”
“Because I had no choice, Jade.”
“No choice? What choice did I have?”
“If I had wanted to stop it, what could I have done? Beaten up Neal and Hutch?” He gave a short, barking laugh. “Sure. I can see it now. Don’t you understand?”
“No,” she retorted, her eyes blazing. “Because even if you couldn’t stop it, you didn’t have to participate. You could have stayed behind to help me. You could have come forward and backed up my account of what happened.”
“Neal would have killed me.”
“You stood by and let my reputation be trampled. You said nothing when Neal taunted Gary and finally drove him to suicide.”
“I couldn’t say anything, Jade. I had to go along with Neal. I’m sorry.” Tears shimmered his eyes. “You’re strong. You’ve always been strong. People look up to you. You don’t know what it’s like to have only two friends.”
“I know what it’s like to have none!” Those last, lonely months of her senior year, she had been snubbed by everyone except Patrice Watley.
Lamar was earnestly stammering his excuses. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to be under Neal’s thumb. It wasn’t until this year that I finally got away from him, and it pissed him off royally. We’d been living together in this old house—”
“I’m not interested.”
“Well, anyway, I moved out before the semester was over last spring, and he didn’t speak to me for weeks afterward. He acted the same way when Hutch got married. By the way, did you know that he married Donna Dee Monroe?”
“They deserve each other.”
“Hutch played football for a couple of years. Neal was even jealous of the team. After our sophomore year, Hutch surprised everybody by joining the navy. Neal said he just wanted to get away from Donna Dee because she kept hounding him to make a baby. They live in Hawaii now, but I hear they’re about to come back stateside. Hutch still isn’t a daddy.”
He might be. The thought made Jade shudder. “Is that why you came here, Lamar? To give me an update on my rapists?”
“Jade, I nearly fainted when you opened that door this morning. I was speechless with fear.”
“Fear?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “Were you afraid that I might kill you?”
“No, worse. I was afraid you might point an accusing finger and start screaming rape.”
“I tried that once, and it didn’t do any good.”
“Your contempt is justified.”
“Why, thank you, Lamar. I’m glad I have your approval.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” He lowered his head and stared at the floor, expelling a deep breath.
“I think you’d better go.”
“I still haven’t said what I came to say.” She gave him a level stare that demanded he not postpone it any longer. “I want you to understand why… why I had to go along with them that night. At that time in our lives, Hutch would do anything Neal told him to. Besides, I think Hutch had a crush on you.”
“How dare you dignify rape as being something romantic.” She lowered her arms to her sides, her hands forming fists. “The only difference between what you did to me and murder is that I’m still alive. And if Neal had told you and Hutch to kill me, I’d probably be dead.”
His eyes begged her for tolerance. “Everything you’ve said is true, Jade. It was a crime, a violent act of retribution aimed at Gary for besting Neal in that fight at the Dairy Barn. At least to Neal it was. And he was always mouthing about how high and mighty you acted around him. I think he resented that you preferred Gary over him. To Hutch…” He shrugged. “I have my theories, but only Hutch knows why he went along.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “For me, it was a test of manhood. I had to prove to them and to myself that I was a man. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”
Jade glanced at him sharply. He raised his head and looked directly into her eyes. “I’m a homosexual, Jade.”
He gave a scoffing laugh. “I believe I am a classic case study—weak father, domineering mother. My suspicions about myself weren’t confirmed until after my morally depraved freshman year of college, when I fucked plenty, but didn’t enjoy it very much.
“The following summer I met a man in Palmetto. He taught at the junior high until he was discovered fondling one of his students in the boys’ restroom. My mother couldn’t have guessed how shattered I was when she called to catch me up on local gossip and told me the whole sordid story about my lover. I guess he got his kicks initiating young converts like me. Anyway, he went back east somewhere. My first love affair ended in tragedy.”
“So did mine.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking away. “I attracted new friends and lovers at school. One became jealous of my sexual activities with women during Neal’s bacchanals. I participated because I didn’t want Neal to find out about me. God forbid that my mother ever does. She’d probably sic the Klan on me. Can you imagine what her reaction would be to learning that the Cowan family tree will die because her son is a queer?”
Graham might be a Cowan, but Myrajane would never know it.
“I haven’t come out of the closet yet,” Lamar confessed. “But, after seeing you today, I wanted you to know. I thought it might help explain why I did what I did.”
For several moments Jade regarded him with smoldering contempt. “You didn’t come here to explain anything for my benefit, Lamar. You confessed your dark sin because you want me to absolve you. Well, you’re out of luck. Your sexual preference doesn’t justify rape.
“You didn’t just violate me, you caused Gary’s death. Even if I could forgive you for the first offense, I sure as hell won’t pardon you for the second. No, Lamar, as long as I live, I’ll hold a grudge.
“Until I saw you this morning, I was under the misconception that time had anesthetized me. Then there you were, and it all came rushing back, as horrendously vivid as ever. I was on my back in the cold mud again, begging the three of you not to do it.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ll never forget it, and as long as I remember it, you will remain unforgiven.”
He stared at a spot beyond her shoulder. The handsome features of his face were drawn with sadness and resignation. Finally his eyes swung back to her. “That’s what I figured you would say. I thought—hoped—it was worth a try.” He turned toward the door, but paused and came back around. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to add that I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Dejectedly, he nodded his head and went out, pulling the door closed behind him. Jade rushed to the door and quickly locked it. She pressed her forehead against the hard wood until it hurt. Their taunting words echoed inside her head. Neal had held her arms and goaded Lamar into taking his turn. Hutch, panting from his recent exertion, called Lamar a faggot for being squeamish. Covering her ears, Jade turned her back to the door and slid down its cool surface until her bottom touched the floor. She bent her head over her raised knees and, just as she had that night, she moaned plaintively, “No, please don’t.”
But Lamar had done it anyway and had seemed extremely proud of himself afterward. How dare he come to her now, airing his guilty conscience, revealing his tormenting secret, and asking her forgiveness?
To him it must appear that she had survived the incident and was doing well. He didn’t know that, even after months of therapy, she was incapable of accepting or returning a man’s affection. That night had been imprinted on her soul as indelibly as a birthmark. She wou
ld never be rid of it. It was a life sentence that she couldn’t ask anyone else to share, especially not someone as precious to her as Hank.
Because of the circumstances, she had been able to avoid him today. But tomorrow she would tell him that she would never be able to express her love physically. It was impossible for her to be what he wanted her to be, what he deserved to have. This time, she must make him believe and accept it.
The darkness in her heart matched the night. The silence of the house closed in around her. She mourned for Graham, who wouldn’t have Poppy in his life anymore. Her heart was broken for Cathy, who had lost her husband and best friend. She grieved for Hank and the heartache she must inflict on him.
In the bleak hours of the night, she almost envied Mitch his newfound peace.
* * *
Jade graduated from Dander College at the top of her class. In her speech at the commencement exercise, she publicly thanked the late dean, Dr. Mitchell Hearon, for having shown faith in her. Cathy took dozens of pictures of her in her cap and gown and held a reception in her honor.
The day Jade left Miss Dorothy Davis’s store for the last time, the old woman’s back was as straight as ever, but there were tears in her eyes. “It’s just as well that I’ve got the store up for sale,” she sniffed. “It would take me weeks to find someone to replace you.”
What she was really saying was that she could never replace Jade, and they both knew it. For the last year of her employment there, Jade had supervised the entire operation of the store. The other employees answered to her. Miss Dorothy had merely been a figurehead.
“I want you to have this,” she said, handing Jade a white envelope. Inside it was the first check Miss Dorothy had made out in years.
“Five thousand dollars!” Jade exclaimed when she read the spidery handwriting.
“You’ve earned it. If I left it to you in my will, the damned attorneys would end up with it,” she said cantankerously.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say goodbye. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
For fear that she would break Miss Dorothy’s brittle bones, Jade didn’t hug her as tightly as she wanted to. She would miss the store and its eccentric owner, but not nearly as much as she would miss Cathy. Leaving Cathy would be much worse than her separation from her mother.
When she reached home, she sat in the driveway looking at the house and remembering that morning she had audaciously carried Graham up the front steps. He came sprinting through that same door now. He was a sturdy boy with Irish blue eyes and the hint of a vertical cleft in his chin. He wasn’t even winded when he reached the car.
“Cathy wants to know why you’re sitting out here in the car.”
Because I dread going inside and imparting my news, she thought. To him she said, “I was waiting for my best boy to come out here and get me.”
“Me?”
“None other. What did you do today?”
As they walked toward the house, he chattered about Sesame Street and a trip to the “place with lots of flowers.”
“The nursery,” Cathy said, having overheard the tail end of their conversation. The three of them gravitated to the kitchen, where Jade usually visited with Cathy while she prepared dinner. “I bought some impatiens for the pots on the front porch.”
“They’ll be pretty there. What color?”
Jade tried to keep the conversation lively, but, when it flagged, she realized that it was her fault, not Cathy’s. She couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.
“Cathy, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get around to it. I could tell you have something on your mind.”
She sat down across the table from Jade. Graham was coloring in a large book, his tongue securely anchored in one corner of his lips.
“I don’t know how else to tell you, except to come right out and say it.” Jade took a deep breath. “I’ve accepted a job with a clothing manufacturing firm in Charlotte.”
“North Carolina?”
“Yes. I had hoped to find something closer to Morgantown, but, as you know, the college is the only industry here. This is a good job with a respectable starting salary. I’ll be working directly with the vice president in charge of purchasing.” She looked at Cathy with a silent appeal for understanding. “Even though it means that Graham and I have to move, it’s too good an opportunity for me to pass up.”
Jade was prepared to catch her, should Cathy collapse in tearful distress. Instead, the older woman’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I love the idea of a change. When do we leave?”
Chapter Fifteen
Tallahassee, Florida, 1983
Nearly everyone on the transatlantic flight had fallen asleep midway through the inane movie. Dillon couldn’t sleep. The coach seat hadn’t been designed for a man his size. The best he could do was rest his head against the back of the seat and close his eyes.
Hearing Debra stir, he turned to check on her. She adjusted the blanket over their sleeping son, then looked up at Dillon and smiled. “He’s a good traveler,” she whispered. “No one would guess that this is his first flight.”
Six-month-old Charlie was lying on his back in a padded carrier. When he snuffled in his sleep, his adoring parents gazed at each other again and smiled. “Try to get some sleep,” Dillon said softly. He reached across the seat that separated them to stroke her hair. “Your family won’t give us a minute’s peace once we get to Atlanta.”
“Are you kidding? They’ll be so dazzled by Charlie, we’ll be completely ignored.” She blew him a kiss, then nestled more comfortably beneath the airline blanket and closed her eyes.
Dillon continued to watch her, his heart expanding with emotion when he recalled how close he had come to losing her a year and a half earlier. For months following the illness that had resulted in the loss of their child, Debra had been severely depressed. Her parents came to France and helped nurse her through her physical ordeal. The Newberrys stayed as long as they could, then entrusted her to Dillon, who felt ill-equipped to deal with her despondency.
She had no interest in resuming her previous activities, including the cooking class. She no longer kept the apartment tidy. When Dillon returned home from work in the evenings, he did the housework. Laundry piled up until he found time for it. Debra slept the days away. That seemed to be the only way she could deal with her grief.
Dillon grieved for their lost child by pushing himself to the limit at work. Physical exertion was his panacea. Exhaustion provided a temporary haven of forgetfulness. Debra had found no such relief from her misery. She even refused to discuss the issue with Dillon whenever he broached the subject, believing that talking about it might be cathartic. He consulted with her obstetrician and was advised to give her time.
“Madame Burke has suffered severe emotional distress. You must have patience with her.”
Dillon was the epitome of patience with Debra. What he lacked was patience with the platitudes of so-called professionals. When weeks passed and he saw no improvement, he considered sending her home for a while. He thought that perhaps being with her large family might boost her spirits and restore her optimism.
However, he never could bring himself even to suggest it. It bothered him to see her staring listlessly into space, but it would have been worse not to see her at all. Having no other choice, he exercised the patience that the doctor recommended.
During that time, sex was Debra’s only obsession. As soon as her body had healed, she urged him to make love with her, although the frantic coupling they engaged in wasn’t what Dillon would call making love. The act wasn’t prompted by passion or desire but desperation. Pleasure was neither’s goal. He wanted to pierce through her self-imposed isolation. She wanted to get pregnant again as quickly as possible.
No time was given to foreplay. Every night they sweatily clutched each other, rocking their bed in a frenzy of mating. Afterward, Dillon felt empty
and joyless, but he continued doing it because those few minutes were the only ones throughout the day when Debra showed signs of life.
At times when Dillon wanted to pull out his hair in frustration, he could comfort himself by saying, “At least I don’t have Haskell Scanlan to contend with.” Forrest G. Pilot had countermanded Dillon’s dismissal of the accountant but had reassigned him to a position in the States. That was satisfactory to Dillon. He didn’t care what Scanlan was doing or where he was, so long as he was out of his life. Scanlan’s replacement was a much more amenable Frenchman who spoke flawless English.
Debra underwent a 180-degree reversal the day she confirmed that she was pregnant. When Dillon arrived home, she flew into his arms the moment he cleared the door. Such exuberance was so unexpected that he toppled over backward. She landed on top of him, laughing as she had before the disastrous trip to Zermatt.
“I’m pregnant, Dillon. I’m pregnant.”
Before he had time to recover from his surprise, she was tearing open his shirt and ravenously kissing his chest and throat. They made love on the floor, and it was as before—with fervor tempered by love and caring.
“Jesus, it’s good to have you back,” he whispered fiercely as he held her hips between his hands and thrust himself into her.
As though an opaque curtain had been lifted, their life was sunny again. Life was good, but Dillon’s nemesis—his pessimism—plagued him during Debra’s pregnancy. What if tragedy struck again? Debra might suffer another bout of depression that neither would have the stamina to withstand. As she approached her second trimester, the period during which she had lost the first baby, Dillon’s anxiety escalated to a frantic pitch. One evening he abruptly announced, “I’m sending you home to have the baby, and I don’t want any arguments.”
“I am home.”
“You know what I mean. To Georgia. To your mama. She’ll see that you take it easy like you’re supposed to. Anyway, I want our baby to be born on American soil.”
