19 Tales of Terror
Page 31
Not another twinge! she thought, recklessly, exultantly. How
wonderful to be free. Free of all the pain.
He was down the beach, a small shape in a white hat, moving
among the old people, making his martyr's jokes.
"My wife says I have to go out alone now. She's getting very
independent." And that pleasant smiling wink to remove all
sinister meaning.
Ah, let the old people laugh with him, back there in the
shade. Let them love him, and gather around him. Let them
pity Mark and herself. She was no longer tragic. She had served
out her term, and freedom was here now, to be understood,
adjusted to, and fought for.
She wanted to get out of the water, and run down the beach.
But not with all their eyes on her. No. There were other, and
better ways. She went fast, enjoying the swift speed of walking
on the sand, down the hot white road to their entrance, and
now along the curved pink sidewalk, whizzing past the overgreen lawn, the bright impossible flowers, the sweet-sick tropical smell. She got in the house, and stood in the living room.
The maid had left lunch on the stove and set the table pleasantly
by the window, with two fresh azaleas lying on the lemoncolored cloth.
She saw he�elf in the mantel mirror, with the strong light
coming in from over the sea.
What would Ian Macpherson think of her now, so sick and
strained looking for all the world like a celibate, tending an old
sick man? He would not love me any more, she told herself.
That time is past. There would never be a conflict any more.
In all these years you have not heard from him. He must be
married. He could even be dead.
She took a shower, and put on a pale clean wash dress and
sneakers. All right, she told herself. If Ian saw me now, if he
were still free, he would still love me. He would love me and
restore the bloom. I am still young, and capable of another life.
196 • Nineteen Tales ol Terror
But I have made this choice. It is a free choice and therefore
wonderful.
She heard Mark outside on the walk, and she ran to open
the door.
"Well, that looks just fine," she said.
He came in and kissed her on the forehead. Then he sank
into a chair and said, "Whew."
"They all praised me on the beach," he said. He let the canes
fall carelessly, as if they were something unfamiliar and unimportant.
"Best of all, they praised you," he said. "Mrs. Swanson and
the Vails and everybody. They said you were the most devoted
wife in Lemon Grove. What do you know about that?"
"I love it," she said, laughing. "I love it. I'm going to get our
lunch." And when she was in the kitchen, he called to her .
.. We're going to a party this afternoon."
"A party?" she asked him, coming back with the tray.
"Mrs. Swanson is having a great big cocktail party," he said.
"And we're going. And your friend Doctor Spreckels is going
to be there." He let this slip so mildly, no one else listening
would imagine it was anything.
At once the words leaped into her mind: Don't be afraid.
Remember what Doctor Spreckels said: It is he that is afraid.
And she turned around now, smiling back at him.
"Doctor Spreckles was a great help to me when I went to
see him," she said cutting all ground from under him at once.
"I didn't tell you because I thought you'd fuss. You do fuss, you
know, about things."
"Why should my wife go behind my back, to see my doctor?"
be asked. "Why go in broad daylight, then, where all of Lemon
Grove could see? Didn't you know someone would tell me, Beloved?" he ended very gently. "Naturally they thought I knew.
Naturally, My Love !"
"Don't be childish," she said. "Come over here and eat your
lunch. I went to him about the drug, of course. I didn't want to
alarm you. He said the thing was sure. Sure cure. You're going
to be as good as new. And we're going to readjust. We're going
to have a wonderful new life."
He looked at her fully, listening to her. And she smiled at
him, gaily. "It's going to be fun," she said to him. "We're both
going to have a wonderful life."
"Did Spreckels tell you that?" he asked.
"Of course!" she said lightly. She smiled at him, so he had to
smile back. "I'm going swimming," she said. "I'm not going to
eat too much."
Out there, swimming in the pale, warm, flat sea, she thought
Florida Forever • 1 91
of the long past in Cleveland now gone forever. Of that time
when she thought she could rid herself of this marriage. Go to
Ian Macpherson and be like other women, happy, loving and
free.
She swam slowly along, close to the shore, looking down at
the snow white sand, upon which danced the golden wires of
broken sunlight, rippled by water.
She thought about Mark's Cleveland house which had been
as large as her father's, but more modem. And there she was,
suddenly sitting in that living room, having a talk with her
father.
"I don't know," he had said. "He's a glbomy cuss."
"But I can make him laugh," she said. She was young and
innocent, full of confidence after the honeymoon.
"We laughed in Bermuda," she said. "You should see him
laugh."
"He laughs with you, because that's what you want," her
father said.
Don't scare yourself with old memories, she told herself now.
But she got out of the water and sat on the hot white beach,
thinking of the past.
In those next years in Cleveland, Mark went out with her to
theatres, concerts and parties. "I have nothing but my work,"
he said. "And you. I have made this money for you. Enjoy
yourself." But he sat watching her, always.
And now, sitting here on the beach, she raised her hands,
and put them in front of her face, for she seemed to be in that
Cleveland house again, after her father's death. She was alone,
being constantly watched. Ian Macpherson had come into her
life, as if to save her. She loved him. This gave her courage.
"You'll have to go and tell him," Ian had said. And he had
stood there, young and fair, strong and wise, and so normal, so
healing for her.
"But Mark lives for me," she said. "His whole life is me."
"He lives off you. He sucks blood from you," Ian had said.
But he had left Cleveland, after Maik got sick. And her
sister hadn't understood it, she could not tell her sister, and her
father was already dead. And she had been alone, unable to
resist the overwhelming force of guilt.
"You just stand up for your rights now," Doctor Spreckels
had said to her. "Stand right up to him, and he'll collapse,
you'll see."
And although Mark had fought her all morning, still she bad
won. And Mark's own blood and bones and body were on her
side. He was healing up, and coming over to her side, as though
some forgiveness, deeper than his conscious mind, were at
work. Perhaps the very root of the evil' could wither u
p and die
198 • Nineteen Tales ol Terror
in the end. For if he got well, his mind could get well, too, with
her devotion, her courage and her help.
At the party they crowded around Mark, the white and bald
heads, cheerful, talking in the soft voices of old people.
"Look at him," they said. "Coming to a party, standing
straight and tall."
·
"Olivia," said Mrs. Swanson, "this is my nephew, Alec
Bridges, he's from Cleveland, too."
And then she dropped Olivia, left her standing there with
Alec Bridges, while she said, "Hello, there, Peter" to Doctor
Spreckels coming to the door. Then she took Mark by the hand,
and put her other hand on Doctor Spreckels' sleeve. "You have
only to look at Olivia to see that you've cured him," she said.
And now Olivia was conscious of her new pink straw hat, her
white silk dress, with the tiny dark design, her high-heeled
shoes and new bag. All three of them watched her standing
here with this nephew. She saw Doctor Spreckels, mild and
tired from his work, wave his hand at her, and Mrs. Swanson
smiling, brimming over with happiness for her and Mark. And
last of all Mark, looking at her as though someone had just
tapped him on the shoulder and suggested something for him
to notice.
"Let's sit down," she said to the young man. It was only then
that she saw he was very handsome and rather heavy, blond,
even-featured, an athlete probably. He was gay, feeling in a gay
mood about a fishing trip.
"You should come on the fishing trip," he said to her suddenly. "You should come, you'd be just the one." And he smiled delightedly at this, explaining about the other couple and how
they were going to be gone three days.
She looked over and saw that Mark was sitting way back in
his chair. "I don't think I can," she said. "But you must come
over. We're right next door."
"Oh, could I?" he said. "That would be a relief.'' He looked
around the room, and dropped his voice. "I love Aunt Amelia
and all that, but golly. You know what I mean."
In this room he was conspicuous, a fair head among gray
heads. He was young and strong, and compared to everybody
else he moved so quickly, with the restless unthinking movements of youth, crossing his knees, lighting a cigarette for her.
"Do you know Ian Macpherson in Cleveland?" she asked
him.
"Ian Macpherson?" he said, frowning and thinking back.
And then his face cleared. "Oh yes, of course," he said. "Nice
feller. He's moved back to Cleveland. Say! He's improving
Cleveland. He's a good architect. He's got imagination besides
Florida Forever • 199
everything else. But he struck me as one of those lonesome
fellows who does nothing but work."
Across the room Mark was sitting in a chair by himself,
watching her. She caught his eye. She winked at him. And in a
minute, she got up and said good-bye, and went over to him.
"Let's go now, Dear," she said.
"No," he said. "You're having a good time. I like to watch
you having a good time."
"Come on," she said. "I'm the cook tonight."
And she laughed, pulling him out of the chair.
"Have you really got all you want now?" he asked.
"Absolutely. Come on," she said.
He was stiffened from sitting in the chair. He said good-bye,
and they left the house rather slowly.
When they were back in their living room he sat down, even
more slowly and carefully, in his own chair.
"Don't tell me," she said gaily, "that all those women wore
you out."
"Olivia," he said, his voice so sudden and strange that her
high mood was gone in an instant. "Oh, Olivia, it's no use. Why
should I kid you? Why should I kid myself? I'm in pain, Olivia.
I'm in pain."
She looked at him, but he looked down at the floor.
"Since when?" she said.
"Since always. In the beginning it was a little better. But it's
come back. I've said to myself, 'I must get well for her sake. I
must be well for her sake.' I-1 walked around like that all
day, pretending. But Olivia Darling. Oh, my Darling. I-I can
hardly stand it now." He put his face in his hands.
She had a moment when she thought he was crying. He made
fists out of his hands, holding them against his face.
She looked at him, and a strange warming softening thing
happened. It happened very suddenly, coming from nothing at
all the way a miracle might come to someone. She could feel
love in her heart for him. The fight went out of her. Everything
drained out of her except the full warmth of pity and love.
She went to him and sat on the floor by his chair. She put her
arms around him. "Oh Darling," she -said. "Oh Darling. I'm
sorry. I'll call Spreckels right away."
"Don't," he said. "I still have those pills, get me my little
pills. I can sleep now. Oh yes, I know I can sleep. I haven't slept
-not for nights. Oh, Olivia, I've been lying very still for nights,
breathing as though I were asleep.''
She held onto him saying nothing. I'll do anything in the
world for you. I'll never leave you, she thought.
·
His arms tightened around her and he held onto her, as if
201
Nlnataan TaJas of Terror
•
he'd never let her go. "Oh Darling, I love you so," he said. "I
hate so to--" _
"Never mind," she said. "Come on, I'll make your bed. I'll
get the pills."
"Get the pills," he said. "And let's stay here like this."
She got them, and when he had taken them she sat down on
the floor beside him again. "How rotten," she said, sitting there,
holding him. "What awful, rotten luck."
"I love you," he said. "I love you. Olivia, I love you, I love
you."
"I love you," she said, astonished at hearing it, and then
saying it again, "I love you."
His arms tightened around her and the hungry, desperate
way he held her was something special, a sort of revelation
through an embrace. No man, not Ian, not the boys in her
youth, had ever held her like this. She felt that she was sinking
down into his arms forever, down, down into his arms the way
one might sink down into God and eternity, slowly and warmly
and forever, after a long and terrible battle.
"But I should call Spreckels, Dear," she said, worried. "I
really should."
"No, it's no good," he said. "I'll see him tomorrow. It's a little
better now. Olivia, my way of loving you has been wrong. But
I couldn't help it, don't you see? I could never help it. I made
myself sick, I got myself like this-"
"Never mind," she said. "Never mind."
After about twenty minutes she could feel his body becoming soft and heavy.
"Now," she said, and walked with him into the bedroom,
keeping her arm around him. After hot milk and crackers he
finally fell into a light and restless sleep. But she knew what was
before them. All night long he would wake up in pain.
as if for help. Shouldn't she call after all? And yet she had a
feeling inside her that something precious might be broken, the
intruder's voice, the doctor, unsympathetic, matter-of-fact. He
would perhaps suggest coming over to give a hypodermic. And
it would be like shattering an over-expanded moment in time,
like a spun glass globe, spun out too thin, ready to break in an
hour, two hours. Before me lies slavery, she thought. Everything back again. But like someone enchanted by magic and sudden love, she did not care. I will be with him forever, she
said. I will never leave his side, even for an hour. And she rejoiced in saying it. "I am a slave," she repeated, and her heart filled with light and sudden joy.
Finally, after she had eaten a sandwich in the kitchen, she
did go to the phone and dial the number. Don't do it, she said to
Florida Foravar • 2DI
herself even as she dialed. But he's in pain, she thought, I must.
"Doctor Spreckels," she said. "He's worse again. In fact,"
she said, keeping her voice low, and watching the closed bedroom door, "he says he's been in pain all along. He says in the beginning it was a little better, but the drug wore off, and now
-now he's in terrible pain again, Doctor Spreckels," and she
could hear her own voice, solemn and tearful and with that
level, steady tone of accusation. "We were wrong about him,
you see. The drug hasn't worked, and he's really been a hero.
He's been-"
She stopped, as though he had interrupted her. Actually he
had said nothing. There was a silence on the wire, and she was
listening to it.
"He really has been driven into a comer," the rough, matterof-fact voice finally said.
She could not bring herself to say, 'What do you mean?' For
what was meant was immediately and terribly clear.
She hung onto the phone, listening. "Don't hang up," she
said. "I have to talk to you. I have to wait-"
"I'm not hanging up," he said. "I'm right here."
"Well, I suppose I have to ask you, then," she said. ''To tell
me. So tell me."
·
Now she knew that Mark was not asleep. She went into the
bedroom, and turned on the lamp by his bed.
"Yes, I've called Spreckels," she said. ''That's right. That's
it."
"I know," he said. "Of course I know."
He lay very fiat on the bed; the expression on his face was