AFTERWARD, THE THREE BOYS privately wondered why they behaved the way they did. Why didn’t they race into the ballroom and tell all the boys to help search? Certainly every boy there would have been much happier searching the forest in the dark than dancing! Why didn’t they grab Mr. Martin, demanding lanterns and search lights and trained dogs? Why didn’t they call the rescue squad, the police, the fire department? Anybody at all?
But Gary didn’t, Con didn’t, and Mike didn’t.
Mike was appalled by the snide things he had been saying to Beth Rose along the way. As if frozen in time, Mike’s muscles reminded him that his hand had gone to help Beth Rose, but not his heart. He had just yanked her along. He’d been thinking contemptuously: girls, dances. Kip. Stupid high heels.
Mike thought: Kip would never fall. She’d be too well organized. Kip would note the precise distance between her feet and the cliff edge for exactly the right safety margin, and when she went back to the Inn, she’d notify the authorities that the railing had fallen down. Next week, she’d call them to be sure they had fixed it.
When Mike had that thought, he expected to be angered all over again at Kip. But he wasn’t. He missed her. He missed her sense, her calm, her ability to make a decision and act on it.
If Beth Rose fell…Mike thought. If she fell…it’s my fault.
Con had decided not to worry about Beth Rose. During the climb, he knew perfectly well she was having a hard time, and he preferred not to think about her or her difficulties.
Racing down the mountain, roots catching at his feet, hemlock branches slapping his face, and oak leaves turning into slippery ski slopes beneath his shoes, Con thought—this is how I treat Anne.
Practically from the night she told me about the baby I decided not to think about it. I decided she was on her own.
But people aren’t on their own.
Sometimes they need you.
He thought of himself running around with Molly while Anne sat alone at Aunt Madge’s, watching rented movies on the VCR because she hated to appear in public, and because he hated to appear with her.
For a moment he thought he could not handle the shame.
He had run away from Anne once before and managed to crawl back.
Con did not see how he could repeat that performance.
But if he found Beth Rose…if he rescued Beth Rose…it would be like an offering.
He would be able to say to Anne: Here, I’m not so bad. I’m shaping up, as a matter of fact. See how I saved your friend?
So Con never thought of calling for help because he needed to rescue Beth Rose himself. Con decided right away to return to the croquet courts, take the lower path to the base of the mountain, and try to find where she had fallen through.
That it was dark, that he was talking about dozens of acres of thick woods, he did not pause to consider.
Gary didn’t think at all.
He was falling inside himself: feeling the weightlessness, the horror, the plunge. He was torn by treetops—soft green leaves that looked like featherbeds became stabbing spears to kill Beth Rose.
He thought his girlfriend had not screamed because the wind was knocked out of her, or maybe because, as he was now, she was frozen by her own fear of falling.
And perhaps she didn’t scream simply because she couldn’t be that disruptive. Beth Rose hated to be a nuisance. Beth Rose hated to speak up.
Oh, Bethie! Gary thought. You didn’t speak up. You didn’t scream up! And if you’re dead, it’s my fault. You expected me to know, and deep down I really did know. But I want you to talk out loud. I want you to say what you mean, say what you want!
You never do, Beth. You expect me to mind read.
Gary thought: I can’t mind read if you’re dead.
And then he thought, I dragged her up here.
I did read her mind. I did know she just wanted to stay inside and dance.
If she fell….
Con said, “The lower path! We’ll find her down there!” He led the way through thick shrubs and underbrush.
Gary did not want to find Beth Rose “down there.”
But it had to be him and not Con or Mike who found her, because she was his girl.
So he ran with Con in the dark, yelling Beth’s name, wondering if he would see Beth’s billowing summery skirt, like a sign, a flag to mark where she hit bottom.
Anne took Emily into the girls’ room.
Where would the female of the species be without girls’ rooms? thought Anne. A girl can always kill time in there.
The lounge included a daybed, in the same maroon color as the flocked wallpaper. Anne and Emily sat on it, leaning on each other, and Emily wept. “I’m so sorry,” Emily sobbed. “I shouldn’t be crying.”
Anne smiled. “Listen. I cried for nine months. I guess you rate a single evening. Tears aren’t so bad. They don’t arrest you for it, anyhow.” They clung to each other.
Emily said, “Anne, you just wouldn’t believe what happened to me tonight.”
Anne felt as if Emily could not have a problem that Anne could not understand. She’d been through so much and been through it, essentially, alone. Oh, her parents and her grandmother had stood by her—but very uncomfortably, and very reluctantly. And Con, well, if you stretched a point, you could pretend he’d stood by her. And Beth Rose’s Aunt Madge had provided a bedroom, and meals, and cozy forgiving talks.
But that was the thing of Aunt Madge.
She was busy forgiving Anne for being bad.
I made an error in judgment, Anne thought, and I made it over and over again. But I wasn’t bad.
I was alone, she thought.
Anne would never, never be so dumb as to say she was glad all the last nine months had happened to her. But she was stronger for it, and she was glad to be stronger.
Strength turned out not to be muscles flexing, but a kind of peace. Anne settled into the maroon upholstery and leaned back against the silvery weeping willows and dancing birds of the wallpaper and knew that whatever life dealt her, she could take it.
Of course, this time she would deal her own hand a bit more carefully!
“So,” Anne said comfortably, “so tell me what happened.”
Emily was a puddle of emotion, sobbing, using up all available Kleenex and then hopping up every few minutes to get toilet paper to use instead to sop up all her tears. Anne had forgotten (so soon!) what it was like to cry your way through an entire box of Kleenex! She listened to the story with appropriate shudders and gasps of understanding.
“First things first,” Anne said firmly. “The whole thing with Christopher was probably jangled nerves, but not necessarily. Christopher is a creep. Don’t you remember that Saturday night of the Autumn Leaves Dance ? How he got drunk and practically attacked the band and the police were called and Molly had to drive him home? Anyway, a guy that big and that strong, the only reasonable thing is to be afraid if you’re afraid.”
The girls both giggled.
“Matt would have trouble understanding that sentence,” Emily said.
“So would Con!” Anne said. “But girls wouldn’t. If you’re afraid, it’s reasonable to be afraid, and that’s that. But that’s not really the point, Emily. That was just the icing on the cake. The real problem is your parents.”
“It’s odd to think of the problem as a cake,” Emily said. “I mean, I know what you’re saying, the icing on the cake. But Christopher wasn’t exactly sweet frosting, and my parents aren’t exactly chocolate cake, either.”
Anne said, “Okay, so I don’t have the perfect metaphor at hand. What can I say? I missed a lot of school this year.” She hugged Emily again. “You make it sound as if your parents just aren’t worth living with. Is that true? Because if they really are not worth living with, there’s no reason to try to make things smooth again.”
Emily tried to look down into her childhood as if it were a well, and she could see the bottom of it. “I always had nutritious meals,” she said slowly, “and my mother picked me up at school if it was raining, and when I wanted music lessons they bought me a flute. But…they weren’t really interested in me. Weren’t interested in each other, either. I don’t actually know what they do like. That’s awful, isn’t it? Imagine being their age and not knowing what you like in life.”
The girls talked of their parents, and other people’s parents, and grown-ups in general. Anne’s home life had been immeasurably better than Emily’s, and yet she had always been something of a trophy for her parents: the perfect daughter to dress in the perfect fashions.
The girls sat in silence for quite a while, each looking back at her errors in life. Emily had no real mistakes that she knew of—other than to be born into an unloving family. And who had control over that?
I have control now, thought Emily. The choice is mine now. But I don’t have the slightest idea what choice to make!
Molly had not bargained for such a steep treacherous trail up toward Two Cliffs. Having staggered across the soft thick cushion of the croquet courts, she had expected to find easy going on the path. Instead it was clear she was going to break an ankle.
She stood in the trees for a moment trying to decide what to do. She wanted to follow Con. She wanted to press her advantage, but she did not want to ruin her clothes, break a bone, or make an idiot of herself.
She lit a cigarette and smoked it to help herself think.
Molly found everything about smoking very soothing. It gave you something to do, it calmed you down, and it took up time. She ignored all the realistic warnings about smoking.
She flicked the match into the bushes and after an interval tossed the half-smoked cigarette in after it.
She faintly heard the boys yelling at Beth Rose.
Molly would never put herself in the position of being a pain. What could be worse than boys who were sorry you were along? Although in Molly’s opinion, having Beth Rose along automatically meant you were sorry about it. She could not imagine what anybody, least of all Gary, saw in such a namby-pamby as Beth.
All right.
She’d go back to the dance.
No point in throwing her energy into something pointless.
She had another cigarette first, though, because it was nice to be able to smoke (Rushing River Inn’s lovely rooms were marred by large red and white No Smoking signs) and because she wasn’t sure yet what she’d do once she got back to the ballroom.
Pammy really and truly wanted that VCR.
Her parents said they already subscribed to cable TV and HomeMovies, and there was no need for a VCR.
Pammy felt there was a deep imperative need, and that without a VCR she was going to die.
She was putting all her energy into this questionnaire. She was the only one to care this much, so she figured she had the best chance of winning it. She had most of the questions answered. She knew now that Douglas was the one who did not like chocolate. Her whole opinion of Douglas was changed now, although Douglas did not seem to care very much about this, and now Pammy was trying to find out who had skied in six countries. She had asked every single person who could possibly afford to live that kind of life. None of them admitted to skiing in any country except the United States, and several hadn’t skied there, either.
Pammy’s appetite was whetted by this.
It meant that somebody at this dance had a lot more money and a lot more style than Pammy would ever have dreamed. She was now asking the unlikely ones. She tried Kip, who with her four little brothers lived in an apartment, not a house, and certainly didn’t dress as if she went skiing abroad. Kip just looked annoyed and said, “No, I don’t even have a passport.” Pammy asked Evelyn, a nervous girl if there ever was one, and Evelyn said her idea of thrills and chills in winter was to look out the window at the snow. Evelyn’s date laughed. Pammy said, “So who can I ask? I’ve asked everybody.”
“Try the girls’ room,” Evelyn said. “The interesting people always hang out in there.”
Pammy had never known that. She rushed to the girls’ room to see if somebody interesting was hanging out there.
It was Anne and Emily sitting together on the couch.
Well, definitely Anne had not spent the winter skiing in Switzerland. And Emily? Dubiously, Pammy said, “Emily, are you the one who went skiing in six countries?”
Emily stared at her for a moment. Then she said, “No. I’ve only been skiing in five.”
“Oh, wow!” Pammy cried. “Maybe it’s a misprint! Maybe it’s really you! Did you write that down on your questionnaire? Did you, Em?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I was kidding, Pammy. I’ve never been skiing anywhere.”
Pammy flung herself down on the couch with them. “How am I ever going to win this VCR?” she cried. “I just can’t find out the last few questions!”
“What do you have so far?” Anne asked, looking over Pammy’s answers.
“Let us copy Pammy’s answers,” said Emily, giggling. “Then we’ll be just as far along for a fraction of the effort.”
Anne thought that Pammy was a very lucky person. She had no idea that she had interrupted anything, or that she was the least bit unwelcome. Pammy was happy and ignorant. Kind of a nice way to be, actually. It spared you an awful lot of worry. Look at Emily—not telling Christopher where to get off because she was afraid it would be rude. Pammy would never think of that. Pammy would just say, “Christopher, stop your stupid car and let me out, you creep.”
I have to be more like Pammy, Anne thought.
She hid a giggle. Con would hate that.
But did she care any more?
Did Con mean anything to her now, other than some very mixed memories?
It sounded like a record or a movie.
Mixed reviews.
Anne said, “You don’t have Gary’s name down here for anything, Pammy. He’s kind of a mysterious person, don’t you think? Ask Gary if he’s an answer.”
Pammy looked pouty. She said, “Gary took off with—” she caught herself.
“Right,” said Anne. “With Con and Mike. Go for it, Pammy. One of those three is sure to have done something on this questionnaire !”
“But do you know for sure?” Pammy asked anxiously. “Has Gary ever said anything about skiing abroad?”
“Pammy, Gary never says anything period. You have to drag it out of him. Maybe Beth Rose knows.”
“And maybe not,” said Emily. “I think in that relationship, Gary dictates and Beth Rose obeys.” She felt overwhelmingly glad to have Matt. She wanted Pammy to leave so she could tell Anne that Matt had suggested she could live at his house, and what did Anne think of that? But Pammy stayed, and stayed, and Anne, not one to surrender an opportunity handed to her like that, copied down Pammy’s questionnaire answers on her own paper. Pammy said, “Well, okay, you can have my answers, but if you win, Anne…”
Anne giggled. “I’ll give you half the VCR.”
Lee found Kip.
Alone.
He had, until this moment in his life, found a girl standing all alone to be frightening. He would never consider walking up to a girl who was all alone. She might draw some kind of conclusion from it.
Kip alone, though. She was different.
“Hi,” he said to her.
She was startled, and for an instant her expression was nothing but surprise. Then her face softened, and her chin lowered. Turning slightly, she smiled at him. No words, just a smile.
She’s glad to see me, Lee thought.
There was no sign of the so-called boyfriend.
Just to be sure, Lee asked, “So where is he?”
Kip shrugged her eyebrows. He loved how she did that. Very economical of movement. No shoulders in her shrug—the so-called boyfriend wasn’t worth that much. She said, “I’m told he went for a hike up Two Cliffs trail.”
“Oh yeah, I heard some of the boys saying that they wanted to do that.”
“Is it safe?”
It was Lee’s turn to shrug eyebrows. “It’s safe as long as you stay on the trail.”
Kip giggled. “I guess that’s true of life in general. Now listen, I heard Mr. Martin yelling at you just as I slipped out of the kitchen; for once my timing was excellent. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I am working. I’m checking hither and yon for chaos and mess that I can clean up.” He shaded his eyes and stared into the dark shadows as if searching for icebergs at sea.
They flirted.
They knew nothing about each other.
They didn’t particularly want to.
Kip just didn’t want to start the whole thing—the “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” and “Did you always live here?” and “Are you getting good grades at school?” and “Do you like to sail?”
Boring.
Kip wanted to stay on the surface, gliding along, batting eyelashes, and trading silly remarks. Dancing. Laughing.
She knew from Mike that when she got serious, she got too serious. And since Lee was a boy she really wanted to get serious about, well then, she could not get serious at all.
Now that’s weird, Kip thought.
That’s a truly weird thought.
But correct. I have only to ask Mike, and he will say, Go for it, Kip. Be light-hearted for a change. Don’t organize the evening, don’t organize his life, don’t organize his job. This Lee wants to get in trouble with Mr. Martin, let him, it’s his job, you’re not in charge.
“Shall we dance?” Lee asked.
Kip choked back a suggestion that he should be working.
The rule is—just dance, she told herself. Don’t organize.
So they danced. For at least thirty seconds Kip forgot about being in charge and just enjoyed Lee. Then she couldn’t stand it.
“Listen, I can’t stand it,” she said.
Lee let go of her like a burning torch in his fingers.
“Not you!” Kip said, taking him back again. “You just don’t know me. Lee. I’m very driven. I like things to go the way they ought to. You ought to be working. You’ll have to ask me out for a date so we can go dancing when you’re not working.”
Lee laughed.
What a wonderful change from the girls he knew at school. He could never tell what they were thinking, which always made him nervous, which always made him run, which meant he never would understand what a girl was thinking.
He said, “I don’t suppose you know what you’re doing next Saturday night.”
Kip said, “I am the type of person who always knows what she is doing next Saturday night.”
Lee thought, my kind of person.
At that point Kip, who never forgot anything, forgot she had come to this dance with Mike. She gave Lee a tremendous hug, and Lee being a wrestler gave her a tremendous one right back, and they began making plans for next Saturday night.
Lee was looking at Kip’s hair: her dark hair, and the way the lights made it gleam like gold, and he looked beyond her, and out into the darkness of the forest and mountain, and there was gold there, too.
At first he thought it was a reflection, and then he thought—
Hanging onto Kip’s arm he walked swiftly to the door of the ballroom and out into the fresh air. Gold?
Lee sniffed.
Kip whispered, “Fire.”