He was out again. Each time had been more exciting than the last, and each time he had been more anxious to start. He was leaving earlier and earlier, realizing that once the big creature fed him and went upstairs, she didn’t return and he was free to do what he wanted.
Tonight the sun was not quite gone and the added illumination changed the face of much of what he had previously seen. Colors were richer; the leaves were transparent and dazzling. Those that he could reach sparkled like jewels in his fingers. He tasted them and inspected them with a scientific curiosity, tracing the veins, studying the shapes and textures.
The first time he touched a tree, he half expected it to move. He thought it was some kind of big animal. The large maple just outside his hole loomed above the house; its branches stretched like long, bony arms. He could think only of spiders, for the leaves of the maple formed a green web. It took him a moment to understand that it was the wind that moved them and not the tree moving itself. He sat directly under it and, without touching the trunk, looked straight up. When the branches dipped downward, he scurried away, terrified that the tree was going to seize him.
It didn’t and he understood that it didn’t have that kind of power. When he explored it further, he saw that the bark was rough, but he could peel some of it off. He didn’t like the bitter taste, but he liked the strong, solid feel of the trunk. He embraced it, inhaled the scent of it, and felt a sense of security and confidence because of it.
Overcoming his fear of trees, he was able to venture into the woods behind the house and even begin to pull himself up on smaller trees with lower branches. For him the branches were like the pipes in the basement that ran along the ceiling. He could raise himself gracefully onto them and place himself securely in the nooks where the branches and the trunk joined. As he grew less fearful, he climbed higher, discovering that the added height enabled him to see further and learn more about his surroundings.
It had been during one of these early climbs that he saw Cy Baum’s farmhouse. The lighted windows attracted him to it. He recalled his first night outside and his thought that there might be another nice creature within this house. From this height, he understood the distance and how to approach it.
There was a time when The Oaks had some of the most beautiful grounds in the area. The flats on the south side were cleared, plowed, and groomed neatly by Great Grandfather and Grandfather Oaks, both fastidious farmers who took almost as much pride in the appearance of their farm as the produce they could glean from it. A little more than a half a mile from the rear of the house, the forest was left relatively untouched, for it grew on a rocky hillside unsuitable for farming. When the house had been mainly heated by fireplace and wood stove, the forest was a source of fuel; but since then, the woods had thickened and deepened, the saplings creeping up on what was once cleared, gently rolling grounds.
Long unused, the south-side fields became overgrown with thin, hardwood trees, tall grass, and bushes. The once well-fertilized earth provided a rich environment for weeds, wild berry bushes, and crab grasses. In the spring and the summer, it thickened into a sea of yellow, white, and dull green. On hot summer days there seemed to be a continuous circle of mad insects hovering above. Gradually, it became a safe thoroughfare for rabbits, skunks, woodchucks, field snakes, and the like that enjoyed the cool pathways and the security of overgrown foliage.
At the end of the south-side field, there was an old corral fence to mark the boundary between the Oaks property and the Baum property. Much of the fence had degenerated and crumpled, but, since neither family cared much about farming anymore, there was little concern. Cy Baum could look out and try to remember the once rich cornfields, the odor of newly turned soil, the sounds of tractors and men; but, looking at what was there now, it was difficult for him to picture the land as it was.
The forest that grew behind Cy Baum’s house and the back of The Oaks formed a natural barrier on the north side between The Oaks and the O’Neil property. The same forest extended back to and around Brown’s Pond. It continued on for a few miles, until it reached one of the main highways on the other side of Centerville.
Despite its relative proximity to well-developed areas, the wild and now untouched territory supported a population of wildlife matched in few other areas of the Catskills. All of the families on Wildwood Drive had their land posted, but during big game season, much of it was trespassed upon, especially from the west end. Brown’s Pond attracted white-tailed deer, bear, fox, and bobcats. Because of its distance from the highways and because of the thickness of the forest, the large pond was as close to its natural state as it could be.
Before the “imp” climbed the trees, he had no concept of all this. Even so, the distance and the difficulty of traveling through the wild land made no impression on him. He was driven only by what pleased and attracted him. His acute sense of smell and hearing, his nocturnal eyesight, and his hardened, callused body made it possible for him to move like a wild creature anyway. He traveled in a half-crawl, half fast-walk; but even when he stood up completely, he rarely stood straight. For him it was instinctively safer to keep his shoulders slightly turned down, his head poised stiffly, so he could look quickly from side to side and listen to all the sounds around him.
There was some distortion in the shape of his short arms. They were thick at the wrists and then slim and wiry to the shoulders. Because of his poor posture, his shoulders were curved forward. Although his upper body bone structure was well outlined, his torso was wide for his height, this wideness exaggerated by the shortness of his legs.
All in all, though, his body was an asset to him in the wilderness. He fit under bushes and between small openings. He moved with a natural grace over rocks and stumps, and he had the strength to climb and swing whenever he had to. Now, in the wide open spaces, where he could exercise his muscularity, he quickly developed wind and endurance, taking an animal pleasure in his quickened heartbeat, the pounding of his blood, the straining of his sinews, and the challenge of the travel.
Used to the necessity of moving silently, he slipped in and out of shadows, as though he were kin to the night. Often he would come upon other wild creatures, surprising them with his sudden appearance. Once, he nearly fell over an unsuspecting woodchuck. The animals fled to safe distances and studied him. They neither welcomed nor attacked him. He was simply another part of the forest, something that had just emerged, but seemed to have been there as long as they.
He was interested in every animal he saw, but they were all much harder to capture than the mice in the basement; so when he first went to Cy Baum’s house and saw the rabbit in the cage, he became terribly excited. It took him only a few moments to understand that the rabbit was trapped. He thought about himself, trapped in the basement. There was something he sensed in the rabbit’s eyes, when it looked out at him, that made him feel sorry for it. He wanted to hold it and hum his soothing sounds.
He knew immediately why he couldn’t simply open the door to release it. Mechanical things had always been one of his few distractions in the basement. He loved taking them apart and fingering the little screws and hasps. So it was with little difficulty that he released the rabbit. As soon as he opened the cage, however, it hopped out. When he went to grab it, it skipped away from him quickly and disappeared within the bushes. He went into them to find it, but the rabbit was too quick and too frightened.
The next night, when he returned to the Baum farmhouse and found another rabbit in the cage, he was more careful when he opened the door. This time he grabbed it before it got to the opening and he held it tightly in his arms. It struggled to get free and he squeezed it tighter and tighter until, unknowingly, he snapped its neck. It turned still like the mouse in the cellar, so he threw it down and ran off in disappointment again.
Tonight, though, after he had climbed his tree and looked out at a more lit-up world, something else attracted him to the Baum farm. He turned his head sideways to catch the full meaning of the sound. His dark brown eyes widened with curiosity, and he sniffed the air instinctively to tie a scent in with the noise that seemed musical to him. He looked to it with greater and greater interest, recognizing something warm and similar in its origin. He was like an extra terrestrial who had discovered the possible existence of his own kind. He strained to hear more. When it came, he scurried down the tree excitedly, determined to go back to the place of the rabbits.
With radar accuracy, he honed in on the sound and its origin. He scampered through the fields in a direct line to it. Nothing that appeared in his path could hold his interest. He was drawn magnetically, vaguely remembering that he, too, had made a similar sound, although not as softly or as sweetly.
He stopped at the broken fence and went to his hands and knees. Crawling carefully, he moved through the heavy bushes, until he was almost to the cleared portion of the field by the Baum farmhouse. There he stopped and parted the tall grass so he could look out clearly. What he saw fascinated him and filled him with such longing and pleasure, he had difficulty containing himself. But he understood that he must be still and he must go unseen; for the creature that stood next to the little one was as big as the one back at his home, and, even though he looked different, he could be as dangerous.
The little one was laughing. She held the rabbit close to her with a leash tied to its collar. When the rabbit hopped off, she followed behind, laughing and shrieking with delight. It was that sound that had drawn him here. He saw that the big creature laughed, too. That confused him and for a few moments, he sat there, his head tilted, studying them. Then he focused in only on the little one.
Her golden hair looked delicious. He tried to imagine the taste of it. He wondered about its feel and its scent. The little one’s face looked so warm and alive. He thought about her rosy cheeks, the softness of her little legs, and the pleasure of her tiny voice. He could even imagine a warmth to her. He wanted so much to touch her and squeeze her and nibble gently on her that he began to whimper ever so slightly. He caught himself doing it and stopped, but the big creature had already turned to look in his direction.
He backed deeper into the bush. The big creature took a few steps toward him and paused, still looking his way. The imp was silent, one with the earth. He didn’t blink; he barely breathed. The little one’s laughter continued, so the big creature turned back to her. But he put his hand on her head and knelt down to her size to speak very softly to her. She nodded her head and pulled the rabbit to herself, until she could take it into her arms. It seemed easy for her to do so, and the rabbit didn’t get still.
The big creature looked back once more and then the two of them went into the house. He waited, but they didn’t come out. It grew darker and darker. He ventured closer to the house and listened for her sounds, but he couldn’t hear them. He heard older, harder voices and some music, too. He wished he could call out, make some noise that would bring the little one back, but he didn’t know anything to call and he was afraid of the big creature.
After a while longer, he retreated. He moved back through the fields slowly, carrying deep disappointment and sadness. He could think of nothing but the little one. Every once in a while on his return journey, he would stop and listen hopefully to the sounds of the night; but her sounds weren’t there. For him the night had suddenly turned empty and too dark.
When he reached the house, he paused and looked back over the fields. He whimpered once and crawled through his hole. Inside, the rocks felt heavier as he put them back. When that was done, he went to his box. He was tired and his sadness made him more sleepy. For a while he thought of the little one and hummed his sounds. He knew he would go back until he could get close enough to the little one so he could touch her. He thought that if he grabbed her quickly like he grabbed the rabbit, he could keep her from leaving him. He would hold her even tighter than he held the rabbit, and if that made her cold and still, he wouldn’t throw her down. He would bring her back here with him so he could always touch her.
These thoughts pleased him. He curled up in his box, put his fingers close to his lips, inhaled the odors of the outside world that were on his hands, and fell asleep dreaming of the long, gold hair, the soft, sweet face, and the sound of laughter.
The first time Faith sensed an emptiness in the basement, she felt panic. He could have died down there, she thought, and we wouldn’t know until Mary actually sought him for a bath or one of her “lessons.” Tonight, just like any other night, Mary had gone down to leave him his supper. She then came up, locking the door behind her, as usual; but, unlike some other nights, when Faith went to the floor and called to him, there was no response. She wanted to ask Mary about it, but she didn’t know how. What would she say, I’ve been communicating with him through the kitchen floor and tonight he doesn’t respond? Mary would go wild if she knew that, and tonight she was already hyper enough as it was.
Mary had returned invigorated from her church mission. She talked about the “voices” and how good she felt helping the poor. It reinforced her belief about her purpose in life.
“They looked up to me with such loving eyes,” she said. “I was like a returning angel. One old lady kissed my hand. When I stroked her hair, I felt a power traveling through me and into her. Something must have happened because she grew stronger, happier, lovelier.”
She paused to see how Faith was listening. Faith was attentive, but, as always, it was more because of fear than of interest.
“You should come along with me sometimes. You should see what it is to do this good work.”
“I can’t. School…”
“I know, I know. But when school ends, that’s when you should go.”
She went on talking about the people she had touched and the things she had said to them. She described a momentary vision she had had when it was all over. Clouds had parted and a bright light had appeared. Only she saw it, but that was because it was meant only for her eyes.
After dinner, Mary left Faith to wash the dishes and Faith tried to reach him, as always. There was no response, no matter how intently she tried. She even tapped the floor, risking Mary’s hearing her. That was when she envisioned him dying or sick. She wondered why Mary, who had such compassion for the sick and the poor, couldn’t have any compassion for him; for despite what he was spiritually, he was still an infant, wasn’t he?
She couldn’t discuss it. Mary would get very angry if she mentioned him tonight; but maybe she could come up with something that would make Mary think of him in a roundabout way. She began to think of ideas, when Mary did come charging back into the kitchen in a rage. She had gone into Faith’s notebook and found her failing papers.
She slammed the notebook down on the table and held the papers up before her. Her eyes were wild and her thin, narrow face was pulled so tight with anger, it sharpened her bone structure even more, making her look like a living skeleton. Under the kitchen’s bright ceiling fixture, the shadows below Mary’s eyes darkened. She appeared about as frightening as she could. Faith stepped back, embracing herself. She knew what Mary’s tantrums could bring.
“This is the result of your extra help! This is why you stayed after school? Liar. Liar.” She grasped the notebook and lunged forward. Faith held her arms up in front of her face and Mary brought the notebook down on them sharply. The whacks didn’t sting as much as they frightened. Faith went to sidestep her and Mary seized her hair. That hurt, so she cried out in pain and went to her knees, pleading for an end to it.
“I did stay after. I did.”
“How could you fail then? How could you fail?”
“He tested us on something different. Let go.” She struggled to get Mary to release her grip. Instead, Mary went to her knees beside her, bringing her violent face close.
“You’re lying to me. Your marks have been getting worse and worse. That means something. Don’t think I don’t know what it means. I know,” she said, widening her eyes even more. She paused. Her breath was hot and heavy against Faith’s face. Faith closed her eyes and prayed it would end, but Mary kept her position and kept her grip on her hair. The next thing she said came more in a whisper. “You’re touching yourself.” Faith opened her eyes. “You’re lusting.” Faith shook her head. How could she know? “The Devil’s in your hands, making you do it.”
“No,” she said, but her voice was so weak it was as good as a confession.
“You’re letting Him distract you; you’re letting Him defeat you.”
“No.” She spoke louder and stronger this time. Mary studied her face. Faith didn’t look away. She told herself she had to meet those eyes.
“Have you been with a man?”
“No, never.”
“You think about it.”
“No.”
“Why did you fail these tests?” There was some retreat in her voice. Faith was hopeful.
“I just didn’t understand it. He’s going to explain it again. Most of the class failed. You’ll see. I’ll do better.”
Mary’s grip lessened. Her eyes took on that far-off look that indicated to Faith that Mary was no longer concentrating on anything specific. She would merely begin to preach now. That was tolerable; she could turn her off and think of other things.
“Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?” Mary said and released her hold on Faith’s hair. But she put her hands on her shoulders and made her stand with her. “Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God.”
Faith nodded, her tears ending. Mary seemed placated by Faith’s look of agreement and gratitude. She backed away and looked at the notebook again.
“I want a letter from this teacher telling me you were there working with him after school.”
“But that’s embarrassing. Why must everyone know you don’t trust me?”
“Because I can’t trust you.”
“Why?” Faith demanded. She surprised herself with her aggressiveness.
“Never forget you are your father’s daughter,” Mary said. Her eyes got smaller, sadder.
“But I’m your daughter, too.”
“Know ye not that he who is joined to a harlot is one body?” she said and turned away from her. Her shoulders sagged as she left the kitchen. Faith watched her go and then sat at the table, her head in her hands. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Suddenly, she felt very tired and alone. After she completed the dishes, she decided to go up to bed. She paused in the living room doorway. Mary was sitting in her easy chair, staring at nothing.
“I’m tired and I don’t have any work tonight, so I’m going to sleep early.”
Mary looked at her and nodded. She looked stunned, on the border between the past and the present, and on the verge of drifting onto some mental avenue that would take her away for hours. It was almost a catatonic state. Faith was familiar with it, and tonight she was grateful for it. She hurried up to her room and closed the door as far as she could. Then she put on her light by her bed and sat thinking.
Never had she touched herself when Mary was anywhere nearby. She didn’t even think about it in Mary’s presence, for fear that Mary would read her thoughts or see the temptation in her face. How did she know to ask that? Could she see through the walls? All her life, Faith had believed that Mary had some special spiritual gifts. Didn’t this prove it?
Perhaps she was only guessing, Faith thought. Maybe she was simply assuming. That could be. She could be remembering her own youth. All the girls did what she did; it was natural. Mary didn’t know anything specific. She knew that Faith was a normal girl and would have normal feelings.
But was she a normal girl? she wondered. Did she have normal feelings? How could she measure them? She knew only what she had read secretly in the library at school. She couldn’t compare notes with other girls; none of them cared to be friendly with her. Maybe that was her fault as much as it was theirs; but nevertheless, it was still true—she had no one to confide in, to be intimate with, to call a friend.
When she heard Mary’s religious music start, she got up to get undressed for bed. It was then that she remembered Bobby O’Neil and his invitation to go rowing at the lake. The whole idea now seemed more frightening than ever; and yet, she wished she could do it just to prove to herself that she was a normal girl.
Because of what Mary had said to her, she avoided looking directly at herself in the mirror when she undressed. She put on her heavy cotton nightgown quickly, went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and then returned to her bedroom intending to go right to sleep. She had a deep, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and thought that only sleep would end it. But the moment she turned off the light and put her head on the pillow, her mind reeled with images and thoughts. The whole day came back at her.
She saw herself in her father’s wrecked car; she imagined the Devil hiding behind another car, watching her and smiling. She thought about Bobby O’Neil’s sexy eyes and remembered the warm excitement in his voice. She saw Mary in a rage, felt her blows, and heard her whisper, “You’re touching yourself.”
In replay, the words practically burned her. She pulled her hands away from her body and lay there in fear of herself. She grew clammy and hot. It was going to be harder than she thought to go to sleep. She began to toss and turn. It was then that she heard the first pebble hit her bedroom window.
Bobby had hoped that she would meet him, but he didn’t actually expect it. When she didn’t appear, he was frustrated. Then he became angry and, finally, he got brazen. It took courage to approach The Oaks. The house loomed above him, the windows of the dark rooms catching the moonlight and making it seem as though the building were alive with Halloween eyes watching him. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got closer. He certainly didn’t intend to go calling on her. Just the thought of walking up to that big, heavy oak front door was enough to send shivers down his spine. As though to punctuate his fear, two bats flew out of the eaves and dove in his direction.
He was about to retreat when he lucked out. He had no idea which room was Faith’s. But suddenly, lights went on and he saw her through the window. He saw her start to take off her blouse. Then she disappeared from sight. When she reappeared, she was wearing a nightgown. A moment later, her lights went out. He stood there a little confused. Why would she go to bed so early? Had she gone to bed or simply gotten into a nightgown and then gone to some other part of the house?
The only way to find out was to draw her attention, so he felt about for small pebbles and tried throwing them gently against her second-story windowpane. When that didn’t seem to work, he considered the fire escape. There was a small landing right by her window, but he wondered if the metal was too old and rusted to hold him.
What was he doing, risking all this? he wondered. Was she worth it? What if he got hurt? How could he explain any of it? His father would kill him, if he didn’t kill himself on this old metal ladder. Nevertheless, he went forward. But before he had climbed two rungs, he heard her window open. He stood completely still and waited.
“Who is it?” she called in a loud whisper. That nearly made him laugh aloud. Who did she think it was? How many boys proposed a date with her tonight?
“It’s Romeo,” he said. She looked down through the landing grate.
“Go away.”
“Hey, that’s not what Juliet said.”
“I’m not Juliet.”
“Well, what are you doing? You’re certainly not studying.”
“I’m … I’m not feeling that well, so I’m going to sleep early. I told you I wasn’t going to be there,” she added.
“Not in so many words, you didn’t.”
“Well, I’m telling you now. Go away.”
“That’s not very friendly.”
“I don’t feel like being friendly tonight.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“The night after that?”
“Never.”
“That’s what I thought.” He continued to climb the ladder.
“What are you doing?”
“Risking my life to meet you. What else?”
She looked behind her. Mary’s music was still loud, but her program wouldn’t last that much longer. If she came up the stairway and found him here … especially after the incident downstairs!
“Please, go home.”
He was nearly to her landing. She debated closing the window and getting into bed. Then if Mary discovered him, Faith could claim she didn’t know he was there. Of course, the chances were that Mary wouldn’t believe that and then Bobby would get into a great deal of trouble.
“You know, this isn’t a bad spot,” he said when he reached the landing. “I mean, there’s a view from here.
“There’s nothing to see out there.”
“I wouldn’t say that. So,” he said, turning to her and seating himself comfortably on the metal landing, “what’s wrong with you?”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“Did you try aspirin?”
“We don’t use medicine, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Mary … my mother believes that the body gets sick only when the soul is sick.”
“Heavy idea. You believe that, too?”
“I don’t know. She’s right about most things,” she said, and realized for the first time that she was leaning on the windowsill, that she was dressed only in her nightgown, and that Bobby O’Neil was sitting on her fire escape landing only inches away from her. She had never been this close to a boy while she wore so little. She knew that her breasts were visibly outlined beneath the garment. That knowledge stiffened her nipples quickly and sent a warm flush over her face and down her neck. She pulled back slightly so she was more hidden and then folded her arms across her bosom. He seemed very nonchalant, though, looking out at the fields and the sky.
“Well, do whatever makes you happy, I say,” he said, turning back to her. With the moonlight behind him, his face was mostly in shadow, though she thought she could see that playful smile around his eyes.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Huh?”
“Why did you come to my house?”
“I told you. It’s a beautiful night. We should go rowing.”
“I don’t want to go rowing. I can’t go rowing.”
“Too bad.” He tilted his head to look past her into the room. “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s coming up any moment and if she finds you out here, she’s going to be very mad.”
“What will she do?” There was a tone of sincere interest.
“She’ll… she’ll call your parents for one thing and then…” Faith looked down. “She’ll punish me.”
“She will? Just for talking to me?”
“This isn’t just talking. You’re on my fire escape. By my bedroom!”
“So what? I’m not in your bedroom, am I?”
“What?” That idea never occurred to her, but now that he had brought it up, it seemed the most frightening, and yet exciting, thing she had ever heard. What if he did come in? All he would have to do is climb through the window and she would have a man in her room.
“Of course, if you came out, we could go rowing and she wouldn’t have to know anything.”
“She’d know. You don’t know her. Can’t you go away?” she said, but there was something weak about her voice, some added tone she barely recognized. She wasn’t aggressive in her demand; she was gentle. She wanted him to go and yet… she didn’t.
“I’ll go if you promise to come out tomorrow night.”
“I can’t. I told you.”
“Doesn’t sound like you have much fun.”
“That’s not your concern,” she said, this time clearly showing her anger. He looked into her room again and she listened hard for any sign of Mary.
“This is a big house. How much of it do you actually use?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“You’re just stalling.”
“Must be hard to keep it clean,” he said, ignoring her. “Takes up a lot of your time, huh?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll tell you something,” he said folding his legs into a Yoga position, “it wasn’t easy for me to come over here. My mother’s on my back, too.”
“Really?” That interested her. How did he get along with his parents?
“Yeah. My little brother’s got everybody crazy about this place.”
“What place?”
“Around my house. You know,” he said, gesturing with both hands. “The whole area.”
“Why?”
“He says he saw E.T. out there.”
“E.T.?”
“E.T., E.T. You know, the movie.”
“Oh.”
He studied her face for a moment. In the moonlight she was even prettier. He could see part of her collarbone through the slightly opened nightgown. Her skin glittered, the soft lines of her neck teasing him as they disappeared within her garment. It would be so wonderful, he thought, to lean in and kiss her.
“You act like you never saw the movie.”
“So?”
“You didn’t?” He tilted his head with suspicion. “What was the last movie you saw?”
“I don’t remember. What’s the difference?”
“I bet you haven’t been to the movies in years. Have you?”
“I’ve got to go to sleep. You’ve got to go away. Don’t you understand? You’ll get us both in trouble.”
“I can get the truck tomorrow. You want to go to school with me?”
“No.”
“How about coming home with me? I’ll wait for you.”
“I can’t. Please.”
“She won’t let you do anything. Is that it? Christ, you’re seventeen. You’re a senior. You’re …”
“Don’t say ‘Christ.’ Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a sin.”
“Everybody does it.”
“I don’t.”
He looked directly at her and sensed her seriousness. There was much debate in him then. Was this girl as wacky as most thought? What had brought him here? He returned to the belief that she was a “find,” and he couldn’t deny how much he was attracted to her.
“All right. I’ll never say it again and you’ll be the one who stopped me. If you promise to meet me here again tomorrow night,” he added. “No.”
“I’m not even talking about going rowing. Just meet me here at your window.”
“No.”
“I’ll come anyway.”
She thought she heard something in the hallway outside her room, so she turned around quickly. Her movement scared him and he started for the ladder. She stood perfectly still, though, listening and waiting at the window. Since she didn’t retreat, he didn’t. He inched back to his spot, taking advantage of the opportunity to get even closer to her.
“What’s that music?”
“Shh.”
“It sounds like …”
“My mother is listening to her Bible programs.”
“Good. So she won’t listen to us.” He leaned forward, touching the windowsill. “Um, something smells good in here. What is it?”
“A body lotion I use.” He closed his eyes and inhaled hard. She nearly laughed at his exaggerated look of pleasure.
“Smells like …”
“Roses.”
“Roses?” He backed away and held his arms out dramatically. “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. That’s from …”
“I know. Romeo and Juliet.”
“You probably laughed before when I said that, but I felt like Romeo, and you’re as pretty as Juliet could ever be.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s … dishonest.”
“No it’s not. It’s what I feel.”
She looked at him there on the landing. He didn’t look evil; he looked sweet and loving. He didn’t look like Temptation; he looked like Promise. Was all romance the work of the Devil? Mary couldn’t be right about this. Just because her love went sour …
Then she heard the music go off.
“Quickly, go, she’s coming up!”
“OK, OK, but will you meet me here tomorrow night? Will you?” She hesitated to close the window. When she raised her hands to it, her breasts fell free. The cool sense of her nudity beneath the thin garment quickened her heartbeat.
“Yes,” she said and brought the window down between them. My God, she thought, what have I done? She didn’t have time to think about it, because it wasn’t more than a few seconds later that Mary came up. Faith heard her pause at her doorway. She held her breath and watched the small opening, but Mary didn’t look in. When she moved on, Faith released her breath. She had had visions of Mary coming into the room and looking out the window to spot him.
But he was gone safely. She went back to the window and looked into the darkness. She thought she caught his shadow in the moonlight. Was he looking up at her? She hoped he was. And then she wondered, what part of her hoped he was? Was it good or was it the evil Mary always warned her would someday come forward and doom her to the same hell her father had found?
She wasn’t sure, but she knew she would have to know. She went to sleep dreaming about Romeo and Juliet.