Spencerville

by Nelson DeMille

  Don't leave.

  I have to. Will he call your aunt's house after the meeting?

  Yes.

  What will she say?

  That I'm on the way home. I told Cliff my car phone wasn't working, so he can't call me. My aunt will call here.

  She knows where you are?

  Yes. Please answer it and tell her I'm on the way home.

  Why don't we just wait for her phone call?

  Because I want to leave now.

  Why?

  Because . . . I mean, we can talk another time . . . we have to talk, but I don't want anything to happen tonight.

  He smiled. That's exactly what you said to me when you were sixteen, the night we lost our virginity.

  Well, this time I mean it. She laughed. God help me, I can't keep my hands off you.

  They embraced again and kissed. She put her cheek on his chest and said, Just hold me.

  He held her and ran his fingers through her hair.

  Her face still against his chest, she said, I was going to go up into your bedroom and really surprise you.

  He didn't reply.

  Then I thought to myself, what if he brings someone home? What if he has someone up there?

  No. No one up there, and no one since I came back.

  Not for lack of admirers, from what I hear.

  Well, I don't hear anything, and I'm minding my own business.

  Good. She added, You don't have to . . . I mean, it's all right if you . . . this is silly, you know, because it's none of my business—

  Annie, there's only you.

  She hugged him tighter, then stood on her toes and began kissing him on the cheeks, on the lips, on his forehead and neck. She said, I guess I'm not good at hiding my feelings. I should be a little less obvious. How should I play this, Keith?

  Let's try honesty this time.

  Okay. I love you. I've always loved you.

  I love you and always have. That's why I came back. I can't get you out of my mind.

  I curse the day I let you go.

  You didn't. I left. I should have asked you to marry me. He looked at her. What would you have said?

  I'd have said no.

  Why?

  Because you wanted to go. You were bored, Keith. You watched your friends go off to war, you were obsessed with the war news on TV. I saw that. And you wanted other women.

  No.

  Keith.

  Well . . . wanting and doing are two different things.

  I know, and you would never have cheated on me, and you'd resent a life without some sexual adventure. God, Keith, everyone else was doing it with everyone else, except us.

  He tried to make a joke and said, I'm not too sure about you.

  She smiled, then said, Can I be honest? I wanted to try other men. We both wanted to experiment, but we couldn't because we had an understanding, a commitment. We were two country kids, crazy in love, having sex and feeling guilty about it, but wanting other people and feeling even more guilty about that. I mean, in some ways, we were more than married.

  I think you're right. He smiled. So you wanted other men?

  Sometimes. Am I blushing?

  A little. He thought a moment, then asked, What should we have done?

  We didn't have to do anything. The world did it for us. To us.

  I suppose. But why didn't we get together again?

  You couldn't accept the other men.

  No, I couldn't. And you?

  Women are different. I just wanted you to get it out of your system.

  Well, I have.

  Me, too. She added, I've never had an affair.

  I don't care if you have. You deserved one.

  No, listen to me. I'm hopelessly old-fashioned. But in your case, Mr. Landry, I'll make an exception.

  Well . . . I'd like nothing more right now. But . . . we have to understand the consequences if we—

  Keith, I don't give a damn about the consequences. We've cleared up the past, and that's all we had to do. Make love to me now, and the hell with the future.

  He took her arm and led her toward the stairs, his heart pounding, afraid the phone would ring, afraid it wouldn't.

  He didn't even remember how he got into the bedroom, but there they were with the lamp on. She looked nervous, he thought, and he said, Do you want a drink?

  No, I want to do this with a cleat head. She looked around the room. We did it here once when your family was out visiting.

  Right. I pretended I was sick and stayed home.

  She didn't seem to hear him and kept looking around, then looked into one of the wardrobes, which he noticed was open. He could see, and she could see, the hanging holster, the bulletproof vest, the sword, the uniforms, and the M-16 rifle. She turned to him but made no remark, except, I see you know how to keep a room tidy.

  I'm a tidy bachelor.

  They stood awkwardly, facing each other, and they seemed to have run out of small talk. She pulled her turtleneck out of her jeans and said, Well, I'll break the ice. She pulled the sweater over her head and threw it aside, then unhooked her bra, slipped it off, and let it drop to the floor. Okay? She held out her hands, and he took them. She put his hands on her breasts, and he caressed them, feeling her nipples harden.

  She reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, then ran her hands over his chest. You feel the same, Keith.

  You, too.

  She pressed her breasts against his chest, and they kissed while she slipped his shirt off. Still kissing, she undid her jeans and pulled them with her panties down to her thighs. She directed his hand between her legs, and he felt her pubic hair, then her vagina, which was moist.

  She moved back and sat on the bed, pulling off her shoes, socks, jeans, and panties. Completely naked now, she looked at him and smiled. Is this really happening?

  My God, Annie, you are beautiful.

  She suddenly stood and threw her arms around him. I love you.

  He picked her up and carried her back to the bed, laying her on the quilt with her legs over the foot of the bed, then he bent over her and kissed her breasts, her stomach, then he knelt and ran his tongue down to the soft inside of her thigh, and she spread her legs so he could kiss her between her legs. She arched her back, and he put his hands under her buttocks and pushed his face deeper between her legs.

  He stood slowly and undid his belt and trousers.

  She lay on the bed, breathing hard, then slid back and put her head on the pillow, watching him undress. She watched every move he made as he came toward her, and when he was in reaching distance, she took his hands in hers.

  He straddled her and kissed her on the cheek. He said, Okay?

  She nodded.

  He lowered himself, and she put him inside her.

  They kissed softly and held each other gently, caressing, moving slowly as if they had all the time in the world.

  They lay on the bed, on their sides, she behind him with her arms around him and her legs entwined in his like nesting spoons. She kissed his neck. Sleeping?

  No. Dreaming.

  Me, too. She hugged him tighter and ran her feet over his calves.

  I like that.

  I know.

  He turned toward her and, still on their sides, they wrapped their arms and legs around each other. She said, If you knew how often I fantasized about this . . .

  Not more than I did.

  Really?

  Yes.

  She said, I told you I never had an affair. Not even a fling.

  It doesn't matter either way.

  It does to me. This is very special to me.

  I understand.

  I'm not telling you that so you think you have to marry me. I'm already married. I'm just saying it was very special to me. And if this turns out to be the end of it, I'll understand. This is all I ever wanted. This one more time.

  Do you mean that?

  No.

  He laughed.

  She tousled his hair, then sat up. Tell me .
. . there were other women, I know, but was there any one woman?

  Nothing to write home about. He thought a moment, then said, I honestly couldn't get you out of my mind. So I couldn't . . . I mean, there was no reason to marry.

  She didn't reply for a long time, then said, Maybe if I hadn't had children, I'd have shown up at your doorstep one day,

  There were times and places when I didn't even have a doorstep. It wouldn't have been much of a life for us.

  We'll never know. There were times I envied you, times I thought you were dead . . .

  And times you wished I was dead.

  She thought a moment, then replied, No. I was angry, but I prayed for your safety. She added, There were times, though, I wished / was dead.

  I'm sorry.

  It's okay now. She added, I've been sleeping with a man I don't love for twenty years. That's a sin. But I will sin no more.

  He didn't want to ask, but felt he had to and said, Annie, why did you stay with him?

  I ask myself that every day. I guess because of the children . . . family ties, community . . .

  You mean if you filed for a divorce—?

  I'd have to leave. He would get . . .

  Violent?

  I don't know. Anyway, I used to hope that he'd die. That someone would kill him. That's terrible. I hate myself for that.

  That's all right. You don't have to wait for someone to kill him now.

  She didn't reply, and he thought she was considering the double meaning of what he said, so he added, You can just leave him.

  I will. She didn't ask for his help or any assurances from him but said, Maybe I was sort of waiting for you. I always knew you'd come back. But I don't want anything from you, no promises to take care of me, and no offers to take care of him. I want to do this myself. Now that my daughter is in college, I can leave.

  Well, you know I'm going to help, so—

  Keith, he's dangerous.

  He's bush-league.

  She picked herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. If anything happened to you, I swear I'd kill myself. Promise me you won't confront him.

  The phone rang, and Annie said, That's my aunt.

  Keith picked it up. Hello.

  Well, I thought I saw lights in your house. How'd you get home?

  Who is this?

  Officer Ward. Just checking on you. You tucked in?

  Sure. Had enough fun for one night.

  I didn't. I'm not a happy man tonight.

  I'm not here to make you happy.

  Annie leaned over and put her ear near the phone. Keith turned away from her and said into the mouthpiece, Don't call here again. He hung up.

  She asked, Who was that?

  Car salesman.

  She looked at him and was about to say something when the phone rang again. Keith picked it up. Yes?

  A female voice with an old-fashioned midwestern twang said, Mr. Landry?

  Speaking.

  This is Mrs. Sinclair, Annie Baxter's aunt.

  Yes, ma'am.

  Annie said she might stop by your place for a minute on her way home.

  Keith smiled at the strain in Aunt Louise's voice. He said, She stopped by for less than a minute, Mrs. Sinclair. Never got out of the car. We chatted about farm prices through the screen door for about fifteen seconds—

  Keith felt a punch on his arm and heard Annie laugh and whisper, Stop that.

  Keith continued, Then she left for home, lickety-split.

  I figured she'd be on her way home, and that's just what I told Mr. Baxter when he called here looking for her. She should be home shortly, I said.

  I'm sure she will be, Mrs. Sinclair.

  It was real nice talking to you, Mr. Landry. You take care.

  Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. I appreciate the call. He hung up.

  Annie rolled on top of-him and pressed her nose against his. You're funny.

  So's your aunt. Is she up to this?

  Barely. I had to bring a bottle of dandelion wine when I stopped by. She laughed and kissed him, then rolled off and onto the floor. Have to go. She walked naked out of the room, and Keith heard the water in the bathroom running.

  He got out of bed and began to dress, sticking the Glock under his shirt.

  She came back and said, I can see myself out. She gathered her clothes and threw them on the bed. I don't want to get dressed. I want to be naked for you all night, all week.

  Sounds good to me.

  She put her bra on, then pulled her sweater over, sat on the bed, and slid her panties and socks on.

  He observed, You still dress from the top down.

  Doesn't everyone? She pulled her jeans on, then her shoes. She stood. Okay. You're walking me down?

  That's what a gentleman does.

  They walked down the stairs together, hand in hand, and she kept glancing at him, then said, Can you believe this?

  Hardly.

  I feel like a kid again. I haven't had a rush like this since . . . well, since you.

  That's very nice of you.

  I mean it. My heart is still pounding, and my legs are rubbery.

  And your face is flushed, and your eyes are on fire. Be careful when you get home.

  Oh . . . She put her hand to her face. Yes, I will. God, do you think—?

  Just re-create in your mind a night with Aunt Louise. By the time you get home, you'll be fine.

  Okay . . . She laughed and said, But what if I still have semen running down my leg?

  Keith smiled. He remembered that one of the things he liked about her was the totally unexpected raunchiness that sometimes came out of that prim and proper mouth.

  They walked to the kitchen door, and she opened it. Keith, what are we going to do?

  You name it, I'll do it.

  You love me?

  You know it.

  She smiled.

  Was I a good lay? I can't believe I said that. Bye. I'll call you.

  He held her arm. No.

  I have to go.

  I know. But . . . your husband's men sometimes watch this house.

  Oh . . .

  They didn't see you come in because they weren't watching earlier, or if they were, they saw me leave and followed. I'm going to leave first, and if they're watching, they'll follow me. You wait ten minutes, then leave.

  She stayed quiet a moment, then said, This is awful . . . She looked at him. Keith, I'm sorry. I can't put you through this—

  This is not your fault. It's his fault. I can handle this. But can you handle this?

  She nodded. For you, yes.

  All right. Now, remember—you were at Aunt Louise's all night. Stick to that story no matter what.

  She nodded.

  He asked, What are you driving?

  A Lincoln Continental. White.

  Ten minutes.

  Be careful, Keith.

  He went out the door, got into his Blazer, waved to her, and went down the long drive to the road. He turned toward town and continued on a few miles until he got to an intersection and stopped.

  There were no headlights behind him, and he continued on. He spotted a half-collapsed barn, shut off his headlights, and turned off the road onto the dirt track that led to the barn and nudged the Blazer into the collapsed timbers.

  He got out and watched the road. After about five minutes, he saw headlights approaching at a high speed from the direction of his farm. He knelt behind some brush and waited.

  The car tore past him, but he could make out the shape of a light-colored Lincoln Continental.

  He waited ten more minutes, then went back to his Blazer and drove toward home.

  He couldn't be sure she was safe, but if Baxter questioned her and she stuck to her story, she'd be okay.

  He had the unsettling feeling that he was enjoying this, that this was an adrenaline rush. But so what? Fun was whatever you did best.

  And he had no doubt that Annie enjoyed the intrigue to a point. She'd always been like that wh
en they were trying to find times and places to make love. She got a kick out of the danger, the romance, the stolen fruit which always tasted better.

  Yet, tonight, he had seen real fright in her eyes. She was brave, spunky, and willing to take a risk. But when getting caught was not just a matter of getting expelled from school or getting grounded forever, but of getting beaten or killed, then this took the fun right out of it. He realized he had to resolve this quickly.

  He thought about her, about their lovemaking and pillow talk, and knew that they were together again. They'd traveled the miles and the years and, against all odds and all obstacles, they'd wound up in his old bedroom, naked in each other's arms. Body and soul were satisfied, the flesh trembled, the spirit soared, the heart sang. For the first time in weeks, months, Keith Landry found himself happy and smiling.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cliff Baxter got to work early and called Kevin Ward into his office. He asked Ward, Okay, what happened at St. James last night?

  Officer Ward cleared his throat and replied, Well . . . they had a full house.

  Yeah? You get plate numbers?

  Well . . . got some.

  Some? What the fuck do you mean some?

  Chief. . . uh . . . that guy Landry,.

  Yeah?

  Well . . . he was there . . .

  Yeah? I ain't surprised.

  Yeah . . . he kind of gave us a hard time.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Ward cleared his throat again and related what happened, trying to put the best spin on it, but clearly Chief Baxter was not happy.

  Baxter listened as Ward spoke, saying nothing. Finally, when Officer Ward finished reporting, Baxter said, You mean to tell me, Ward, that one guy and one old preacher ran you off?

  Well . . . they . . . I mean, it was the preacher's property and all, and if it was just Landry, hell, we would've run his ass in, and—

  Shut the hell up. Okay, get me a make on the plates you did manage to get before you got evicted from the premises.

  Right, Chief.

  And get your balls put back where they belong. We're goin' out to Landry's place later.

  Yes, sir. Ward stood and went to the door.

  Baxter said, Next time I give you a job to do and it don't get done, maybe you want to think about goin' back into the fertilizer business with your daddy.

  Ward hesitated, then said, Chief, it might've helped if you were there with us. I mean, it wasn't legal what we were doing—