When You Dance With The Devil

by Gwynne Forster

  Within minutes, she realized that she should have brought along a notebook and pencil, for those children were learning what she needed to know. Next Tuesday I’ll be one of the students and, if it isn’t too late, I’m going to register for the adult courses. I must have been out of my mind to pass up an opportunity like this. What about Gregory? What will it be like seeing him three nights every week and being just another one of his students? I’m not a baby, she told herself. I’ll deal with it.

  At the end of the class she stood at the door as the children filed out of the room. “Goodnight,” she said to them.

  “Goodnight, Miss Tilman, see you next week.”

  Richard approached her, his face wreathed in smiles. “This is the best class we’ve had. You were wonderful.”

  “It was amazing,” Gregory said. “And they didn’t seem to resent you.”

  She tried not to show her pleasure in receiving their compliments. “Children expect two things from us: love and discipline. They accept that the two go together, and they will put you to the test. I just let them know that they are the children and I am the adult. I rule.” She laughed, although mostly from nervousness, for Gregory had trained his piercing gaze on her, and she couldn’t fathom its meaning.

  “How do you know this?” Gregory asked her.

  With her head tilted to the side, she took a good look at him. Tall and handsome with eyes that could make a woman want to drown in them. Remember, girl, you’re not pumping up any man’s ego. So straighten up, she told herself. To Gregory she said, “I was once a child, and I know what worked and didn’t work with me. I got more discipline than I needed, but I wouldn’t have minded that if there’d been even a modicum of love to go along with it.” She switched her gaze to Richard. “Where’s Judd?”

  “He’s in the reading room working on his plans for the spring camping trip he gives for high school senior honor students every year.”

  It seemed as if everyone she admired was doing something for the community. I really have been on the wrong track, she told herself. “Richard, hadn’t we better start home? It’s twenty-five minutes to seven, and Fannie will trip for sure if three of us are late for supper.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I can drop you over there,” Gregory said, and Richard accepted the offer before she could turn it down.

  She walked past Gregory without speaking and went to the reading room. “Come on, Judd. It’s almost time for supper. Gregory offered to take us home, and Richard accepted before I could say no.”

  “Why would you say no? M’ legs will appreciate the ride.”

  If she had told him the truth, that it was because of her pride, he would have lectured to her about it, so she didn’t answer him. No doubt the three men expected her to sit beside Gregory in the front seat, but she reached the car first, opened the door and sat in the back. When the three men stared first at her and then at each other, she sought to soften her action: “I defer to you, Judd.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you did?” Richard whispered to her as Gregory pulled away from the curb.

  Why should she lie? “No, but it sounded good.”

  Three weeks after making his offer to teach recreational activities to the boarders at Thank the Lord Boarding House, Richard admitted to himself and to Judd that what he offered held no interest for his fellow boarders. Only Joe Tucker and Jolene had taken advantage of his generosity. Francine didn’t need tennis lessons; she had played since early childhood. “They aren’t interested in me,” he told Judd at breakfast one morning, “and I have decided that I don’t give a damn.”

  “You do, or you wouldn’t mention it. Why don’t you and I go fishing over on Isle of Wright Bay? It’s just a few miles from here, and it has some of the best striped bass anywhere. Or we can go down to Assawoman Bay and see if we can get a few crabs, but I’d rather fish.”

  “Let’s fish. Won’t it be cold?”

  “Yeah, but the fish will bite. If it was summer, we’d go at daybreak, but around eight will be fine. We can call Dan, the cabbie, and—”

  “I’ll rent a car, and we can do as we please.”

  The minute he said it, he realized that he was settling into a friendship with Judd, a meaningful and deepening relationship that he’d never had with anyone, man or woman. And how strange that it should occur not with a man his age or who had known the world as he had but with a working-class man senior to his father. A man whose formal education had ended with a high school diploma, but whose knowledge often surpassed what one would expect of learned individuals, and who possessed an enormous capacity for friendship and caring.

  As he rose to leave the table, he patted Judd’s frail shoulder. “I’m glad I know you.”

  Judd stopped eating and gazed at Richard. “What brought that on?”

  “If I didn’t have you for company, I would probably have left here long before now. Can we go fishing tomorrow?”

  “We can, and if we catch enough, Marilyn will cook them for us.”

  Richard imagined that his face showed his distaste for the idea that popped into his head. “Who’ll clean them? Not me.”

  “Rodger. The man loves fish.”

  “They’re not biting today,” a fisherman told them the next morning as they drove up to the bay. “Been out here two hours and didn’t get so much as a jerk on my line.”

  Seeing the disappointment on Judd’s face, Richard said, “We’re going to fish. Let’s go over to Ocean Pines. Gregory’s shop is right there at the water’s edge, so he’ll know where we can get a boat.”

  By noon, they had a dozen striped bass, plus catfish and pike. “These fish practically jumped into the boat. I have a feeling that nobody’s been fishing here for a while,” Judd said.

  They offered Gregory some of their catch. “I’m not one for cleaning fish,” he said, “but if you two are willing, I can fry up a batch of the catfish that I bought from the fishmonger, bake some cornbread, and whip up a salad, and we can lunch here in the shop. I have soft drinks, tea, coffee, milk and water.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Judd said. “Richard, you got your cell phone with you? If we don’t tell Fannie we won’t be in for lunch, she’ll preach us a sermon.”

  “I told her not to expect us. Plenty of good food between here and there.”

  Halfway through the meal, Judd wiped his mouth on the red paper napkin and looked straight at Gregory. “I’ve reached the age, Gregory, where I say what I think, and if I need an answer, I go to the source. I don’t gossip about anybody’s business, and I don’t lie about anybody.” Richard wondered what was coming, and Judd didn’t keep him waiting.

  “Jolene. She’s not m’ daughter, but I feel like a father to her. She’s a girl who’s known nothing but tragedy and ugliness, and she’s just easing out of that shell she used to live in. She’s never mentioned you to me, but I’m certain you’re very important to her. Do you think things are going to work out between the two of you?”

  Gregory placed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate and looked his questioner in the eye. “I don’t know, Judd. When she first came to Pike Hill, I thought so, and I wanted that, but so much water has flowed under the bridge, so to speak, that I’m no longer sure. I can’t say no, because there’s much about her that attracts me, and I don’t know how she feels about me. So I can’t say yes, either.”

  “Fair enough. As long as you’re straight with her—”

  “Bet on it.”

  “Gregory’s a good man,” Judd told Richard on the drive back to Pike Hill. “I suspect Jolene took a wrong turn somewhere.”

  “I think she probably took more than one wrong turn, but something happened to shake her up, and she’s showing remarkable maturity for somebody who was still wet behind the ears less than a year ago. I’m realizing that I like her.”

  “Me, too. I think a lot of her. I wish there was some way I could . . . well, never mind.”

  Richard slowed down to take a sharp curve. �
�Something happened between her and Percy that took the starch out of the man. I’m sure of it. He’s a pitiable caricature of his old self.”

  “I thought I was the only person who suspected that. I’ve a mind to speak to her about it, but I’m scared that if I do, she’ll cave back into herself.”

  “I know,” Richard said. “I was hoping he’d play darts with Joe and me, but when Joe asked him to join us, he refused.”

  At the boardinghouse, Richard followed Judd to the kitchen to find Marilyn. “Richard and I caught a lot of striped bass, some pike and catfish. How about a good fish fry for supper?”

  She looked at her watch. “I was going to have roast pork, but nothing beats fish right out of the water. Roast pork can wait till tomorrow. I’ll tell Rodger to get to work on ’em.” She looked at Richard with a lowered gaze and a half smile. “Which ones did you catch? I want to be sure and eat one of those.”

  Damned if flirting wasn’t as much a part of her as her skin. The woman couldn’t resist doing it. He’d have to stop getting angry with her and learn to ignore it. “I don’t know one fish from the other until I taste it. Seems there’s something different about catfish, but I don’t know what that is.”

  “And here I was all primed to eat something of yours.”

  “Give her a bar of chocolate,” Judd said. “Thanks for cooking the fish, Marilyn. I’m beginning to feel as if you’re discriminating against me.”

  She nearly glared at him when she said, “What do you mean?” so he knew she understood his comment.

  “Let’s see, there was Henry Gray who left because you drove him half crazy. Ronald Barnes, Joe Tucker, and Percy Lucas managed to cool you off, and I thought Richard had done the same, but apparently not. You shouldn’t cheapen yourself by making a play for every man who lives here. You’re too fine a woman.”

  “I don’t do that,” she said. “Can I help it if everybody misunderstands me?” Richard watched her demeanor sag, a proud bird whose wings had been cut. Mortified.

  “Happens to all of us,” he said and wondered why he felt the need to soothe her.

  “If you’re going to the lounge,” she said, “I’ll send Rodger with coffee and some of the pineapple-upsidedown cake we had for lunch.”

  Judd thanked her, and they went to the lounge to wait for Marilyn’s effort to redeem herself in the only way that she knew, by serving impeccable food.

  “You felt sorry for her,” Judd said. “There’s something about this place that changes people. Six months ago, you would have spoken harshly to her. I see you’re thinking more about other people and less about yourself, and it’s a good thing.”

  “She was more hurt than embarrassed. Anyway, I’ve stopped disliking her.”

  Rodger arrived with cake and coffee. “I see you brought a mess of good fish. I’ll get to ’em right away. Nothing makes me happier than a good Southern fish fry, some good old hush puppies and some collard greens stewed down with some smoked ham hocks. I tell you, I can taste it right now.”

  “I know what you mean,” Judd said. “Thanks for cleaning them.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Feel like a stroll along the beach this afternoon, Judd?”

  “Naah. I’ve breathed enough cold salt air for one day. You go on and enjoy yourself.”

  He didn’t feel like working on his memoirs. Facing who he’d been for most of his life had become increasingly painful with each chapter he wrote. He’d stopped writing at the point where Lindsay Elliott fell out of bed reaching for him and begging him to spend the rest of the night with her. She had been a sexual carnivore, exhausting him with her need for orgasms. To begin with, he’d had no interest in her as a person, but the beautiful breasts she’d all but exposed to him and her invitation to have his way with her when and as he pleased fitted his usual pattern; it was easier to take what was offered than to risk his reputation as a distinguished diplomat and seduce a woman. She had offered, and he took until he’d had a surfeit of her. But now, he hated that era of his life to the extent that he was unable to write truthfully about it.

  He put on a black leather jacket and headed for the beach. He saw Francine at once, disguised as a clam fisherman. Did she think she would apprehend a smuggler at three o’clock in the afternoon? He strolled along until he came to a huge irregularly-shaped boulder and sat on the side away from the bay but where he had a clear view of Francine. The wind stormed in to the shore bringing a blast of cold and salty air from the ocean beyond. He knew she had to be cold, and he wanted badly to put his jacket around her, for in her disguise, she was thinly dressed.

  At about five o’clock, as winter darkness encroached, she took her bucket and shovel and trudged toward Rhone Street. He didn’t intercept her, fearing that he might destroy her cover. He remained on the beach for another ten minutes until he figured she’d left the area, but as he reached Rhone Street and Ocean Road, he met three men, and one of them walked with a slight limp. He didn’t doubt that that man was Ronald Barnes. He took out his cell phone to call Francine and realized he didn’t know her cell phone number. Furthermore, he doubted that she had gone to the boardinghouse dressed in that manner.

  “I can’t call the police, because this is a secret operation, and I’m not supposed to know about it. Well, hell!” He jogged home and waited in the lounge to intercept her when she came in. Why the hell did he have to fall for a woman who, at any minute, could be killed by a bunch of thugs? Exasperated, he popped his knuckles for the first time in fifteen years (when he became a first-level ambassador, he was advised that knuckle popping was unbecoming to his status). A policewoman. A mental picture of his former associates’ faces upon learning that he wanted a policewoman made him laugh.

  “We’re phonies, every last one of us.”

  At about six-thirty, he heard her quick steps in the hallway and dashed out of the lounge. “Can I have a private word with you, Francine? It won’t take but a second.” A look of apprehension flashed across her face, and he knew that his visage mirrored his concern.

  “What is it, Richard?”

  “Ten minutes after you left the beach this afternoon, Barnes and two other men arrived. I wanted to call you, but I don’t know your cell phone number, and I couldn’t call the police without breaching your confidence.” He grasped her arm. “Please don’t go back down there. It’s too dangerous. You can’t handle three men, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She inhaled a long deep breath and let it out slowly. “You recognized me?” He nodded. “I got a tip, and now I realize it was meant to get me out of the way. According to the information I was given, those men were supposed to meet there between three and four. I stayed until five-fifteen, and they arrived around five-thirty.”

  “The person who gave you that tip is a worm. Is he or she in your department?”

  “Absolutely. But not for long. I’d better get—”

  “Please, Francine, don’t go back out there now. Call the police, but don’t go. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I have to do my job, Richard.”

  “Then take me with you. I’m as good a shot as you’ll find anywhere.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “That would be against the law, but thanks. How’d you learn to shoot so well and why?”

  “Skeet shooting. I’m also an Olympian.”

  “Hmm. Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’d better hurry. See you at supper.”

  He held her arm, unwilling to countenance her going back to the beach alone. “Does that mean you are not going back to the beach tonight?”

  “I’m not going back, but I have to alert my captain so that he can take the necessary measures. Thank you for caring.” She dashed up the stairs and left him standing there.

  Now what? She was a professional, and he respected that, but knowing she could be in danger and unable to circumvent it went against his grain. He went back into the lounge and chall
enged Judd to a game of blackjack.

  “So you aiming to take it out on me, are you?” Judd said. “You’d be better off throwing darts with Joe Tucker.”

  “Aw, come on, Judd. It isn’t that bad.”

  “It is so. It takes a tough man to love a woman like Francine. My wife was like her: soft and sweet, but strong and independent. She could change a tire quicker than I could, and she wasn’t afraid of anything. I never felt threatened by it. She loved me, and she was as soft as a ball of cotton in my arms. Francine will be like that; she’ll love you, but you’ll never be able to tell her what to do.”

  He knew that, and he had to decide whether he could handle it. As things were going, the choice was being taken from him. He would support her in whatever she decided to do, but he was damned if he wanted a life in which fear drained the blood out of his body every time his woman left him. He picked up the hand of cards that Judd dealt him and looked at them.

  “I should have been paying closer attention to you, Judd. I suspect you’re not above cheating me.”

  “No, I’m not, but as long as there’s no money on the table, you can depend on m’honesty.”

  Richard looked at his watch. “This hand’s useless. I’m going to wash up before dinner. I’ll bet you’ve got blackjack.”

  Judd spread out his cards. “A joker and the ace of spades. See you later.”

  Jolene walked into Harper’s hospital room that Friday evening with a bunch of pink roses and a pint of butter pecan ice cream. She didn’t know how to get his attention, for he sat in his wheelchair facing the window precisely as he had when she last visited him. She supposed he knew that she had a strong sense of guilt about him, and that she wanted him to know she was sorry and wished him well.

  “Hi, Harper. I hope you don’t mind a little company for ten or fifteen minutes.”

  He turned the wheelchair around to face the door. “Well, hi. I’d begun to think that after all you told me last time you were here, you weren’t coming back. Come on in. They took my neck brace off yesterday. See?”