Spencerville

by Nelson DeMille

  Keith came and sat beside her.

  Annie threw twigs in the water and watched them run downstream, cascading over the stones. She asked, What happened when he came out to your place?

  About what you'd expect.

  Tell me.

  Well, he was a lot crazier than the situation required, so I had the thought that he'd found out about your visit to me, and I was . . . I was really worried for a minute there. About you.

  Thank you.

  But he sort of had the drop on me, and I was a little worried about me, too. Then I realized he didn't know anything, but that he was just nuts.

  Was he alone?

  No. He had one of his men with him. A guy named Ward. You know him?

  Yes, he's my keeper. She added, Cliff led me to believe he was alone.

  Against his better judgment, Keith replied, If he was alone, he'd be dead.

  She didn't speak for a while, then said, He's a coward and a liar.

  He's also dangerous, Annie. You have to be careful.

  He's never hit me. I know how to handle him.

  Your kids are gone, his job is in trouble, I'm in town, and he's ready to blow. Believe me.

  She asked him, How do you know his job is in trouble?

  I went to that meeting at St. James. You know about that?

  Yes. As a matter of fact, my parents were there. They've been acting weird since then. I guess the subject of Cliff Baxter came up, but no one will tell me about it. Will you tell me about it?

  No.

  She thought a moment, then said, I'm not completely naive. I know he fools around, but I can't believe that came up at a public meeting.

  Tell you what—there's a transcript available. You remember Jeffrey Porter?

  Yes. I run into him once in a while. And his wife, Gail. That was the girl he was seeing at school.

  Right. I've caught up on old times with them. In fact, I trust them, and if you ever need anything and you can't contact me, go to them. I'll speak to them and set it up.

  Keith . . . no. I don't want anyone else knowing about us. It's too dangerous.

  Listen to me, I know when to bet my life on someone. These are trustworthy people. But go and speak to them first, and let me know what you think.

  Okay . . . and they have a transcript of the meeting?

  They do. He called me yesterday. They're selling it all over town for five bucks, and they can't keep up with the demand. But for you, it's free.

  Keith, what's in the transcript? Will I be embarrassed, humiliated, or both?

  I'm sorry, Annie. They got a little carried away with witnesses against your husband. But you shouldn't feel embarrassed or humiliated. You may, however, be angry.

  Actually, I don't care anymore.

  Go see the Porters. We may need their help.

  With what?

  Rendezvous. Cover stories.

  And how long will we need cover stories?

  He took her hand. That's up to you, Annie. Are you ready to leave?

  She looked at him. Are you proposing, Mr. Landry?

  Yes, I am, Miss Prentis.

  I accept.

  He put his arm around her, and they rolled over, with her on top of him. She kissed him, then said, It took you a while to get around to it.

  I'm shy.

  You are, you know. You may be a man of the world, but you're still shy.

  Don't tell anyone.

  She said, You've changed, Keith. Of course you have—but I still know you.

  You haven't changed much. I still like you.

  She snuggled on top of him, and they lay together on the sloping bank. He thought she drifted off, but then she said, When?

  When what?

  When can we elope?

  Oh . . . well, what do you think about just moving into my place?

  She rolled off and knelt beside him, looking down at him. We can't, Keith. This is not Washington. People don't just change partners here. They run off. They always run. They have to. You know that.

  I know. But I don't like to run, Annie.

  There is no other way. She added, I'll go with you anywhere you want. But not here.

  Okay . . . but I'm going to speak to him first.

  No. He'll get violent.

  Which was exactly what Keith wanted. He said to her, He and I should talk, man-to-man and all that.

  She stared down at him a long time, then said, Keith, look at me.

  He sat up and looked at her. Yes?

  Promise me you won't hurt him.

  Keith didn't reply.

  She put her hands on his shoulders. I know he hit you, and I know you're not the kind of man who's going to forgive or forget that. But you don't have to settle the score. Let it go. For me.

  Again, Keith didn't reply.

  She said, Please. Let God or Spencerville deal with him. We don't need that as part of our history. She added, He's Tom and Wendy's father.

  I promise I won't kill him.

  She looked at him and said, No violence of any sort, Keith. Please. Not even the beating he deserves. She took his head in her hands and said, There's nothing worse you or I can do to him than what we're about to do. Leave it at that.

  All right. I promise.

  I love you. She leaned forward and kissed him.

  He stood and said, Let me walk you back.

  Let's walk in the stream.

  Okay. He pulled off his shoes and socks and left them on the bank, rolled up his jeans, and slung his rifle over his shoulder while she gathered up her panty hose and shoes.

  They walked down the stream toward the pond, hand in hand. She said, I need a week to get my affairs in order. Is that too long?

  Not after twenty-five years.

  She squeezed his hand. Where will we go?

  Do you have a passport?

  No. But I can apply for one.

  Not at this post office, you can't.

  No, I can't. I'll go up to Toledo.

  We'll go to Washington first. Bring all your personal papers.

  Okay. I've never been to Washington.

  What city did you like best in Europe?

  Rome.

  Rome it is.

  Are you serious?

  If you are, I am.

  She thought a moment, then said, I am.

  He glanced at her and asked, Do you understand what it means to leave home?

  No, but if I'm with you, I'm home. How's that for lovesick?

  I know the feeling. But have you thought about what it's like to miss your children, your family, and community?

  Yes. I've thought about that. But it's time I did something that Annie Prentis wants to do.

  And your job? Do you still manage the hospital thrift store?

  Yes, and I like it, but it's hardly challenging. She added, It's a husband-approved job. No men, no money, no weekends, flexible hours, and down the street from his office.

  Keith nodded. I saw it when I was downtown.

  Would you mind if I worked?

  You can do whatever you want.

  Can I work long hours in an office, bring work home on weekends, and go on business trips with men?

  Don't push it, Prentis.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand.

  They continued through the ankle-deep stream, picking their way around the stones, and Keith liked the feel of the silt on his bare feet and her hand in his.

  Annie said, Maybe someday we can return to visit.

  Maybe.

  And how about you, Keith? This is your home, too. Did you want to stay?

  I did, but I knew I couldn't. But maybe someday.

  She thought awhile, then said, If . . . he wasn't here . . .

  What would he do if he got sacked?

  She replied, He wouldn't stay. He couldn't. He'd be humiliated. And too many people secretly hate him. She thought a moment, then said, You know, if Mrs. Baxter runs off with another man, he may actually be embarrassed enough to resign and leave town. Then
we can return if we want to.

  Keith nodded, then asked her, Where would he go?

  Grey Lake. In fact, that's where he said we were going if and when he retires. She smiled. That may be sooner than he thinks. Only, he'll be going alone. He knows he can't stay in Spencerville as the ex-chief of police.

  You mean there'd be no more testimonial dinners at the Elks Lodge?

  She glanced at him, then said, I guess you read about that in the papers. God, that was one of the worst nights of my life. When he didn't respond, she said, Did that make you jealous?

  I had some unhealthy emotion or another. Couldn't figure out what it was.

  Well, sweetheart, I thought about you all that night and wondered what you were doing on a Saturday night. Do you know how many Saturday nights I wondered where you were after we first separated?

  I was having fun in basic infantry training. He added, I stood in long pay phone lines on Saturday nights to call you. You weren't in.

  I sure was. But I wasn't going to answer it. She added, Pride and stubbornness are sins, and we paid for them.

  We did.

  Jealousy is also a sin. I'm not jealous, but . . . you know I called you from the Elks Lodge. I just wanted to hear your voice that night. But you weren't in.

  I went to the high school and shot some baskets, then got home around nine, took a very cold shower, and went to bed.

  Good. Did you dream about me?

  Probably. I know that the first thing on my mind every morning is you.

  Me, too.

  They got to the edge of the trees where the stream widened and flowed into the big pond. They climbed the bank and looked out over the grassland and water. There were other cars parked near Annie's now, and a few bicycles lay in the tall grass.

  Keith watched a few kids floating on a big rubber raft and saw two older men fishing. Two mothers with toddlers were playing with toy boats at the water's edge.

  It was a placid pond with a mirrored surface, but now and then a small fish broke the water, sending out concentric ripples. Dragonflies hovered over the water and cattails swayed in the breeze. There was a clump of pond lilies near the shore whose sweet roots could be cooked and eaten, and Keith wondered if kids knew about that anymore.

  Reeves Pond didn't look much different than Keith remembered it on any warm Saturday thirty years before, except that there used to be a lot more kids; the organized-activity generation, maybe the last of the Huckleberry Finn-type kids who cooked lily root and chewed smartweed, and fished with bamboo poles and used old inner tubes for floats, and annoyed small animals and adults with slingshots, and got around on iron bikes that weighed more than they did.

  Annie asked, What are you smiling about?

  I was just remembering that the guys used to skinny-dip here on hot summer nights. We smoked cigarettes, drank beer, and talked about girls.

  I know. We used to lie in the high grass up there and watch.

  You did not.

  She laughed. We did. Twice. We couldn't see too much, but we all said we did.

  Why didn't you join us?

  We probably should have. One night we were going to steal your clothes, but we got chicken.

  Well, I'll tell you what—some summer night you and I will come back here and go skinny-dipping.

  It's a date.

  They stood quietly awhile, not wanting this time to end. She said, This is'probably the last weekend of warm weather.

  Yes, I can smell a touch of autumn.

  Me, too.

  They watched the people around the pond, then Keith said, You know Pastor Wilkes at St. James, don't you?

  Yes.

  I spoke to him the night of the meeting at St. James.

  How is he?

  Old. But still in there pitching.

  What's he pitching?

  Sliders and curves.

  Meaning?

  He advised me not to covet my neighbor's wife.

  Did he? Well, if he means Mrs. Jenkins or Mrs. Muller, that's very good advice. But I guess he was referring to me. How embarrassing.

  He likes you. He didn't seem to be judgmental toward me, but he advised me to wait until you get a divorce. Then I can covet.

  He really said that?

  He did. He's an old romantic underneath it all.

  She thought about this, then said, I didn't think you'd go to anyone, not even a pastor, for advice.

  As a matter of fact, I didn't. He broached the subject.

  You mean he knew about . . . how would he know . . . ?

  From your pastor, the Reverend Schenk. I'm only telling you this in case you thought about going to Pastor Schenk for advice or absolution, or something.

  I . . . I have discussed my marriage with him. She hesitated, then said, To be honest, I spoke to him about you.

  Did you? Did you tell him you had sexual fantasies about me?

  Certainly not. She laughed. Not in so many words.

  Well, if you speak to him again, he'll tell you what Wilkes told me—get a divorce and, meantime, do not commit adultery.

  A little late for that.

  Also, these things do get around.

  She nodded. I'm friends with Pastor Schenk's wife, Marge . . . what else did Pastor Wilkes tell you?

  I can't say, but with all their good intentions, they know too much.

  I'll be careful. She looked at him and said, One week from today, Keith.

  One week from today.

  She sat down on the ground and untangled her panty hose. Can you dry me off?

  He knelt beside her and dried her feet with his shirttail and helped her put her panty hose and shoes on. He said, Where're your underwear?

  Lost ’em. She put out her hand, and he pulled her up. She said, Good Lord, look at me . . . I'm covered with leaves, my clothes are dirty . . . She laughed. Looks like I just had sex in the woods. She brushed herself off and smiled. Do you think I should go home before I go grocery shopping? Hello, Mrs. Smith, yes I did have sex in the woods, as a matter of fact. A tall stranger on horseback. How are the carrots today?

  Keith smiled. You're having fun, aren't you?

  Yes. And I know what you're thinking—what's it going to be like when there's no more danger and excitement of illicit sex. Well, this is fun, but I'm frightened, truly frightened. I just want to be safe, with you, and twenty years from now, when you walk into the room, my heart will still skip a beat.

  I believe that.

  You should, or you're doing the wrong thing. I'm leaving here no matter what, Keith, and I'd like your help. But you don't have to make any promises. Get me out of here, then you can do what you want. I mean that.

  No, you don't . . . He looked at her. Well . . . maybe you do. But that's not the program. This is real simple—I came back to be with you.

  What if I was three hundred pounds?

  I would have walked past you on the sidewalk, if I could get around you. Stop giving me a hard time.

  Did anyone write to you about me?

  Yes, a few people. My mother especially. She kept track of your weight.

  She's been gone five years.

  Is this a test?

  No, just things I promised myself I'd say to you.

  Is that it?

  That's it. You're hooked. Do you have a plan?

  No, but the simpler, the better. What's he usually do on Saturdays?

  Saturday is good. He always spends Saturdays with his friends, either at the lodge on Grey Lake, or Lake Michigan, or Lake Erie. They boat, they fish, they shoot in season. Bird season just started.

  What if it rains?

  They go anyway. They usually play cards someplace—most of them have places in Michigan.

  Okay. Just pack the bare essentials, and we'll meet someplace. I'll drive us to Toledo Airport, and we're gone.

  All right . . . I'll go to my sister Terry's house. Any Spencerville police cars in Chatham County don't belong there, and they'll be easy to spot.

  Good
plan.

  Do you mind meeting me at my sister's house?

  No. We used to get along. I'd like to see her again and thank her for forwarding twenty years of mail to you. I sent her a card every Christmas.

  I know. You're sweet, and she likes you. She used to cover for me in high school when you and I were where we weren't supposed to be.

  I remember. He thought a moment, then asked, Will she be all right with this?

  She hates Cliff. No, she despises Cliff. So does her husband. Annie added, Obviously, she knows we weren't sending recipes for twenty years.

  You two never discussed this strange correspondence?

  Of course not. Well, maybe once in awhile. Annie smiled. God, every time a letter came from you, she'd get excited and phone me right away. We had a code, just in case. She'd say, 'I just got a mailorder catalog I'd like you to see.' Then we'd arrange to meet at her place, or in Spencerville, or halfway at Louise's. I'd give her a letter to mail to you from her post office—I never trusted the people at the Spencerville post office. They gossip.

  I noticed all your letters were postmarked outside of Spencerville. He smiled. It sounds like you two enjoyed yourselves.

  We were like schoolgirls. Anyway, there's not much excitement out in Chatham County, and this was almost as good as the soaps.

  Yes, but . . . letters are one thing—helping you run off with a man is another.

  She'll wish us well.

  Will she be safe from Chief Baxter?

  Her husband, Larry, is pretty tough. Nice guy, but he hates Cliff, and Cliff is afraid of him. Larry is also an honorary deputy sheriff in Chatham, and he'd like nothing better than to tangle with Cliff Baxter.

  Okay, just so they both understand.

  I'll talk to them and tell them we'll be there Saturday at . . . what time?

  There's a two-fifteen direct flight to Washington. If we leave your sister's at ten, we'll make the flight.

  She nodded. All right. Cliff will leave early with his friends. I'll pack and drive out to Terry's house—I'll put my things in shopping bags and cardboard boxes, so if my keeper sees me packing the car, he won't get suspicious.

  Do you watch spy movies?

  I was Phi Beta Kappa. My brain still works.

  I see that. You know, I've been in police states where the cops weren't as much trouble as here.

  They're stupid. Anyway, I should get to Terry's about nine. You can get there earlier if you want. They'll be expecting you. We'll have a cup of coffee, I'll give them letters to mail to Tom and Wendy, we'll say good-bye, and Terry will go speak to Mom and Dad.