When You Dance With The Devil

by Gwynne Forster

  “Yes, siree,” Judd said, scratching his head. “There’s more than one way to seduce a woman.”

  After a day of acting for the first time as manager of the beauty parlor in her boss’ absence and dealing with the consequent hostility of her coworkers, Jolene stepped off the bus and rushed up Ocean Road, her eyes burning from the wind’s assault. Getting a second promotion should have made her happy, and in a way, it had, but she didn’t seem able to shed the weight of Gregory’s indifference or to forgive herself for having caused it. Maybe if she hadn’t told him all those things about herself . . . No. She wanted a clean slate, and she’d done the right thing. “I’ll get over it,” she told herself.

  With the icy wind slamming into her, it seemed to her that the short, three-block walk took far longer than usual. When she finally reached the Thank the Lord Boarding House, she fumbled in her pocketbook for the door key, but couldn’t find it. After a minute or so, the door opened, and she stared into Richard’s face.

  “Thanks. My fingers are so numb I couldn’t feel the door key.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Glad I was down here.”

  She started up the stairs, turned and walked back. “Richard . . . you . . . uh . . . got a minute?”

  “Sure. Let’s go in there.” He pointed to the lounge.

  She sat across from him and tried to figure out how to begin. “I’ve never known a man like you,” she began without planning to say that. “You’re so perfect, Richard, so you must know a lot of people.”

  He stiffened, and she suspected he thought she intended to ask him for something. “Richard, how do you make friends, and how do you know when somebody is your friend?”

  He stared at her until, embarrassed, she rose to leave. “Please don’t go. I’m the last person you should ask that question, Jolene. I have no idea. Judd is the only friend I ever had.”

  It was her turn to stare. “What? You’re joking. You’re so handsome and so . . . so polished that anybody would want to be your friend.”

  His laughter held no mirth. “Jolene, what a person looks like hasn’t a thing to do with friendship. The way I see it, friends are people who’re there for you when you have nothing to give them. What’s the problem?”

  She hadn’t thought he’d tell her anything so personal as his not having friends. She reached toward him, but quickly withdrew her hand. “Richard, my life is a mess. I had a chance to start life here without my mother riding my back, free to live like other people, to make friends so I wouldn’t be so lonely, and to find someone who would care for me. I never had anyone who loved me, starting with my mother, a mean, bitter woman who wouldn’t even tell me who fathered me.”

  He didn’t seem to react to her statement and she remembered that she had already told him about her mother.

  “You’ve made remarkable progress here, Jolene, and you should take pride in that.”

  “Richard, whatever I know about life now, I should have known when I was sixteen. I’m almost thirty-six.”

  She looked him in the eye and took a deep breath. “I’ve met several nice men since I’ve been here, and I’ve messed up with every one of them.”

  “What do you mean?” He wasn’t sure that he wanted to serve as a confessor for Jolene or anybody else, but he remembered his relief after spilling his guts to Judd, and he softened his tone to give her courage. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

  “I thought all men wanted from women was sex, that they used them and left them to handle the result as best they could. That’s what my mama said, and she said it all the time. I think she hated men. When I came here, I’d never gone anywhere with a man; all I knew about them was what my mama said.

  He leaned toward her. “You didn’t date any of your school mates?”

  She shook her head. “Gregory Hicks was my first date. He liked me, and it gave me a . . .” she looked for the word . . . “a superior feeling, so I used him, asking him to take me to expensive places, maneuvering him into buying me a cell phone, writing me a job reference, and things like that. Then, I stood him up for Bob Tucker. I see my mistake now, but he’s apparently not much interested. Oh, heck, I might as well tell you all of it.” And she did, including the insensible loss of her virginity. He whistled sharply at that.

  “I didn’t know it was important until Jim was so shocked and disgusted. Mama had never mentioned it to me.”

  “My Lord!”

  She plodded on. “Harper told me I didn’t have feelings for a man, that I was only out for what I could get. I caused him to have that accident, and the first time I went to the hospital to see him, he told me that he’d fallen in love with me, but he didn’t want any part of me.” She sat forward. “Richard, I don’t mourn my mother.”

  “Wait a minute! You can’t blame this on your mother. You could read, and you could have talked with other people. You could also have observed relationships between the men and women you met. You’re the one who charted your misdeeds. A thirty-five-year-old woman is responsible for herself and for everything she does, so stop blaming your mother. You wanted revenge against her, your unknown father, or maybe against life, and you took it out on men because you’d been taught that men are the source of all problems.”

  She pushed back the tears that threatened to embarrass her. “Maybe you’re right, but I was so immersed in my newly found freedom that I didn’t consider the effect of what I was doing. Francine told me that men have feelings, that they love, hurt and suffer just like we women do. She said a man’s tenderness is a precious thing. Richard, I had never heard words like those.”

  “That caused you to change?”

  “No. I was already looking hard at myself, thanks to Harper’s accident, experiences at my job, and living here. You, Judd, and Francine have taught me what I should have known twenty years earlier.”

  Hearing the agony in her voice and seeing the pain etched on her face tugged at his heart. He knew nothing of women’s sufferings, had become inured to the effect on them of his callousness. In Jolene, he saw himself as he had been when he strode through life stepping on women as if they were weeds.

  Francine would love and cherish him, but he wanted Estelle. Jolene wanted Gregory Hicks, but Harper Masterson nearly gave his life for love of her. Jolene had the power to straighten out her life and, he realized with a start, he could do the same with his own life. He leaned forward and capped his knees with the palms of his hand.

  “I’m not used to giving personal advice, but I think you’re pining for the wrong man. And you ought to straighten things out with Percy. I knew something had happened between the two of you, and I can see why he was devastated. It took the starch out of him.”

  “I know. I wrote him a letter, but I haven’t given it to him yet.”

  “A letter? Talk to him. Face him. If you don’t, he’ll continue to avoid you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try to find an opportunity.”

  “If you’re interested in doing the right thing, Jolene, you’ll make an opportunity.”

  “I will. Thanks for talking to me and listening to me. I hope you don’t think I’m a bad person.”

  “Why should I? Your slate’s as clean as mine. I’d be the last person to judge you.”

  She rose to leave him, and he stood. To his astonishment, she reached up and kissed his cheek. “See you at supper.” She did it impulsively, he knew, but the feeling it gave him of belonging, of rapport with a kindred soul would remain with him for a long time.

  She started toward the stairs, stopped and turned back. “Francine is in love with you, Richard. Are you going to try to fix things up with her?”

  That she would ask him such a personal question startled him at first. Then he smiled. Hadn’t they just shared intimacies such as only friends would do? “Right now, she’s my number-one priority. Thanks for telling me that.”

  Judd would be coming down soon, so he hurried to his room for a few minutes to himself before dinner. He didn’t feel like shari
ng his feelings with his friend. He had a decision to make, an important one, and he didn’t want to be influenced by anyone’s logic but his own. He stared out of his bedroom window at the darkness that fell so early on November evenings, the waves that lashed on the sound barely visible. As he stood there, a full moon seemed to rise out of the ocean beyond, casting its light upon the waves that danced and undulated beneath it like a woman grasping at sexual relief.

  A knock on his door brought an end to his ruminations. “Yes?” he opened the door and gazed down into Fannie’s face.

  “I wondered if you were all right, Richard. You’ve never been late for a meal, and I wondered if anything was wrong. Is everything okay?”

  He could hardly believe the tender solicitousness in her voice. She was not exercising authority or attempting to control his behavior as he might once have thought. She cared, and the idea stunned him. As quickly as he could, he retrieved his aplomb.

  “I’m sorry, Fannie, but I’ve been wrestling with . . . something that’s terribly important to me, and I let the time slip by. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

  She continued to look at him very much in the way that a mother examines a child. “I’ve never done this unless one of my boarders was sick, but if you won’t feel comfortable eating in the dining room, I’ll bring your dinner up to you. You seem a bit ill at ease.”

  He forced a half smile. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I’ll go down with you.”

  She patted him on the shoulder, and he realized that was the first time she had touched him. “I’m glad. If I can do anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

  “I certainly will,” he said, and he meant it. When they reached the bottom step, he voiced the decision at which he arrived while descending the stairs with her. “I’ll be away for a few days beginning this weekend, but I ought to be back here by Wednesday.”

  After supper, he sat with Judd and Francine in the lounge, exchanging banalities, for his mind wasn’t on the conversation. Finally, he said, “I have to be in New York the first of the week, but I should be back here by Wednesday. You two behave yourselves.”

  He glanced at Judd who nodded his approval. “When you get to be my age, nothing for you to do but behave.”

  “When will you leave?” Francine asked him.

  “Sunday morning.”

  “I spent the day getting m’annual medical checkup,” Judd said, “and I’m worn out. See you in the morning.”

  Francine accepted a cup of cappuccino from Rodger and took a few sips. “Is this a business trip?”

  He tapped the table with the fingers of his right hand. “You could say that.”

  She lowered her gaze, and he knew that she had guessed correctly that he intended to see a woman. “When did you decide to go?”

  “While I was walking down the stairs on my way to supper. Francine, it’s important that I do this. I have to know where I’m going. Do you understand?”

  “Not really.”

  “I need to put my house in order.”

  She toyed with the fingers of his right hand, concentrating on them as if seeing a Rembrandt for the first time. After a few minutes, she looked up and focused her gaze on his face. “You have my blessing.”

  On Saturday afternoon, Jolene sat in her room reading one of the books on personal development that Judd brought her from the library. She was realizing that any information she needed could be found in a book and that Richard was right in saying she shouldn’t have been ignorant about the facts of life because she could read. She hadn’t bothered to tell him that if her mother thought she was reading, she would find something for her to do, that she had no life of her own. She had hardly begun the chapter on manners when her cell phone rang. Thinking that it was probably her boss, she was tempted not to answer.

  “Hello,” she said, letting the tenor of her voice tell the caller that she was being disturbed.

  “Hello, Jolene. This is Gregory. How are you?”

  She managed to get her breath back. “Hi. It’s nice to hear from you, Gregory. I’d begun to think you weren’t planning to call me again.”

  “Uh . . . no such thing. I had some issues to work through.”

  She told herself that it was his call, and that she should wait to find out what he wanted but, in her eagerness to resume a relationship with him, she eased his way with small talk. “It’s pretty cold outside. I didn’t expect this so early in the winter.”

  “I hope you don’t think it’s too cold to take in a movie with me this afternoon.”

  Her antenna went up. The women in the beauty parlor claimed that if a man invited you out during the week or for an afternoon date, he didn’t think much of you. “I’m busy this afternoon,” she said, “but we could see a movie this evening.”

  “I was thinking we could see a movie this afternoon and then have dinner someplace.”

  She wanted to kick herself. Hadn’t she learned that conniving to get something from men could backfire? She could offer to change her plans, but she remembered that she broke a date with him in order to go out with Bob Tucker. “Maybe tomorrow, Gregory, provided you’re not busy.”

  “Well, I usually prefer dates for Saturday, because I have to get to work early Monday mornings, but . . . all right. Why don’t I come by for you about two tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Fine. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

  After she hung up, she replayed the conversation in her mind. “Something’s wrong here,” she said aloud. “Wonder what it is.”

  When she walked into the dining room that Sunday morning, Richard sat at his usual table, and an overnight bag leaned against the wall beside it. “Mind if I join you?” she asked him.

  “Not at all. Judd will probably be down here in a minute, so pull up that chair over there.”

  “You going somewhere?” When he told her his travel plans, she said, “Gosh, I hope you don’t decide to stay up there. I’m so used to you, it wouldn’t seem like home here without you.”

  He stopped eating. “Jolene, that is the nicest thing you ever said to me. I’ve also begun to regard this place as my home, and I think that’s because this really is a family.”

  “It is, I guess. We’re a bunch of misfits, but we get along better than some blood relatives. Would you believe Gregory called me for a date? I’m seeing him today.”

  “Have a good time, but take a good look at the situation and try not to pretend what isn’t real.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If you don’t feel it, don’t act it. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Good morning, Rodger. Scrambled eggs, sage sausage, popovers, coffee, and orange juice, please.” She turned to Richard. “I think so. After I talked with him, I felt something wasn’t right, but I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Here’s Judd,” he said. “How are you this morning, friend?”

  “I’m m’usual self for this time of day. Too bad it’s not summer. I could use a good, bracing swim.”

  She waited until Richard finished eating and stood to leave. “I think I heard the doorbell.”

  Richard looked at his watch. “That’s Dan. Right on time. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck,” Judd said. “You need a clear head. Safe trip.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Jolene said, but when they entered the hallway, she saw Francine leaning against the banister rubbing her eyes. “I got up to tell you good-bye,” she said to Richard.

  The situation appeared awkward to Jolene, so she said, “Why don’t you kiss him good-bye, Francine, and let him go. His taxi is here.”

  Richard thanked her with his eyes and drew Francine into his arms. To give them privacy, Jolene went back into the dining room and sat with Judd.

  “I thought you were telling Richard good-bye.” Did she detect a note of censorship in his voice?

  “I’ve done a lot of dumb things since I’ve been here, Judd, but flinging mysel
f at Richard Peterson is not one of them. Richard is busy kissing Francine.”

  Judd drained his coffee cup. “That sure is a relief.” She didn’t know what part of her statement he referred to, but it didn’t matter. Judd was their judge-penitent, though she knew he didn’t aspire to the role. But he was the one person all of them could count on for the unbridled truth.

  Once, she would have awaited two o’clock and Gregory Hicks in a state of anxiety, and she couldn’t understand the calmness with which she dressed, saw that she had half an hour to spare, and went down to the lounge in the hope of finding Judd there.

  He sat alone watching the Ravens wallop another team. “Who’s winning?” she asked him.

  “The Ravens, but that ain’t nothing to crow about. They’re playing the worst team in the league. My, but you look nice! Who’s the lucky fellow?”

  “I’m going to the movies with Gregory.”

  He locked his fingers together, pressed them to his diaphragm and leaned back. “Now there’s a fine young fellow. All the same, you watch your step.”

  She tried to assimilate the meaning of his cryptic advice. “I’m only going to the movies and maybe to dinner with him, Judd.”

  “If you’re eating out, don’t forget to call Fannie before supper time.”

  “I won’t,” she said. The doorbell rang, and she leaned over and kissed his forehead before strolling to the door. “Hi. Won’t you come in while I get my coat?”

  Gregory’s eyebrows shot up, and she realized he hadn’t expected that, possibly because she either met him on the porch or at the door when they dated previously.

  “Thanks. I’ll wait here,” he said and stepped inside. If he noticed her blue suit, he didn’t mention it, but there was still time. He drove to a movie house in Ocean Pines, explaining, “I remember you liked to get away from Pike Hill. This place is nice, and the popcorn’s good.” He parked in the parking lot across the street from the movie house, and she was relieved when he walked around to her side of the car and opened the door. Maybe having told him all the terrible things she’d done didn’t cause him to change his mind about her.