Raintree County

by Ross Lockridge Jr.

  —The boat was loaded exclusively with married men, someone said.

  —More’s the pity, Ivy said. Why waste such a sight on married men!

  —Give me a boatload of lusty bachelors any day, said another lady, slightly past forty and of redundant outline.

  —The whole thing was the doing of John Shawnessy, Carl Foster said. That’s what I heard.

  —What about it, Mr. Shawnessy? several girls said.

  —I know nothing of all this, Mr. Shawnessy said. I do, however, recollect rowing out on the lake for a quiet pipe yestereve with a party of kindred spirits, when chancing to put our boat in close to a sequestered arm of the lake, behold! we saw what seemed to be mermaids bathing in the water. More lovely were they than mortal maidens, and like Ulysses we were hard put to keep from beaching our boat there, but as luck would have it, an illomened breeze sprang up and bore us away. Can any rede me this riddle?

  The affair was a subject for mirth days afterward, but as for Esther, she was wondering if Mr. Shawnessy had really been in the boat, and if his long blue eyes had been able to spy directly out her own naked form through the lanternlit darkness.

  Come to Lake Paradise, ye nymphs. Ungarb and stand beside the lake, brownlimbed, with dark hair down. Plunge deep and cleave the glaucous depths and watch the frogs go by with long legs trailing. On the floor of Lake Paradise, the waterweeds are a dense mat. Be a white form fishlike in the vitreous waters while the god is watching from the glades.

  So the days passed at Lake Paradise in the deep of that mythical summer in which Esther Root first left her father’s home. It might have been ages since the evening when she had come down the sloping hills to the lake. So precious was this new existence to her that she had ceased to count the time, for she didn’t wish to remind herself that only a few days remained of the Teachers’ Institute. Nor did she seek to analyze her association with Mr. Shawnessy. She was teased by the other girls because of his obvious preference for her company, but she didn’t dare to imagine what his kindness toward her meant. Perhaps in his mood of bereavement he preferred her stern simplicity to the lighthearted frivolities of the others. She lived lost in the wholeness of the experience and waited for time to tell her what to do.

  All week, plans had been in the making for a big picnic which was to be held far up the river at the site of the Indian mounds, whence the picnickers were to row down to the lake. The whole affair had been planned as a climax to the first week’s activities. For two or three days the girls talked of it continually among themselves at night. When the great day arrived, the weather was clear and fine. Already most of the young people had paired off.

  At breakfast in the hotel, someone asked Mr. Shawnessy if he intended to go along.

  —Why, no, he said. I guess that’s just for the young people and the lovers.

  He smiled, but not with his eyes. At the morning class, his voice was very gentle and remote, and it was only by a severe effort that he kept his attention on the wavering responses of the students. Esther didn’t know when she had felt so much pity and love for anyone. She wanted to tell him that she, Esther Root, would be pleased to have him go along on the boating excursion and that to her he was as young as anyone there, no older than a boy of twenty who in some legendary summer had swum boldly across the lake and lain beneath the tree of life. The more she thought about the situation, the more upset she became, until she was annoyed by the excitement and laughter of the other students as they prepared for the picnic. She turned down two invitations from older men who wanted to escort her on the ride back. Just before they were all ready to leave, Carl and Ivy Foster came around for her. They were talking about Mr. Shawnessy.

  —Maybe we could persuade him to go now, Ivy said.

  —No use, Carl said. He just hasn’t got over his sorrow. You can’t get him now anyway. He left the camp a little after the class, and I don’t know where he went. He hasn’t been back since. John Shawnessy’s a queer cuss in a lot of ways. He told me he was going out for a walk and not to worry about him. I asked him where he was going. I’m going to try to find someone, he said. Someone to love. We have to replace the old loves, Carl, don’t you think? He was smiling and yet I never saw a man in tears look as sad as he did smiling.

  When they were all getting into the buggies, Esther said to Ivy,

  —I’m not going.

  —Why not, honey? Come along.

  Esther, who was no good at subterfuge and never lied about matters of fact, merely said,

  —I can’t tell you why. I’m just not going.

  Carl and Ivy soon gave up trying to persuade her, and the party went off without her.

  It was then about two o’clock in the afternoon. Esther ran back to the empty tents. She was wearing her white dress again, newly washed and ironed since the day she had stained it on the far side of the lake. She carefully washed her face and tied up her hair. Then she studied her face in the mirror. It was a slender face with smooth red lips, large liquid-brown eyes, high cheekbones. It had two spots of heatflush just under the eyes, and there was a burning excitement in the eyes. Then she went down to the lake, and taking a boat which didn’t even belong to the Institute—all that did had been taken up the river the day before—she began to row across the lake.

  Her stomach was all weak, and she was faint and dizzy. She had eaten little breakfast and no dinner at all. In what seemed an absurdly brief time, she had run the boat against the bank on the far side of the lake. When she climbed out, she was panting and the palms of her hands were red and hot from gripping the oars. She now set off on the wide path that skirted the swamps leading to the little neck of firm ground where she had met Mr. Shawnessy a few days before. She hoped that she would be able to follow the path, but as she went over it in the opposite direction, all was changed. Indeed the whole northern side of the lake seemed different. There was a kind of white soft mist in the air; leaves and grass had a vapory look. It was certainly the hottest day they had had yet, and her handkerchief was soon drenched with wiping her forehead. In a few minutes, she had quite lost her way and began to go on as best she could, pushing through the thickets and wading through low ground in the general direction of her goal.

  All the time she kept telling herself that she was foolish and bad to do the thing that she was doing. Nevertheless, she kept on going and looking all the while for the trees. At last she felt sure that she had overshot them, for she was wandering and floundering in a wide marsh of swampgrass and reeds, and began to think that she would have to turn back. She took off her shoes and stockings and stood for a moment looking about her. She was panting, her hair had come down, and her slight body was drenched with sweat. Her heart knocked at the top of her chest. She thought she might faint out here in the cruel sunlight: the bubbly substance of the swamp would close over her, and she would be like a flower destroyed before it could bear its seed. Once again, she saw the insouciant gaiety and swiftness of the water-creatures. A snake swam in a pool not far away. The shining green-shouldered frogs were everywhere. Noon, splendid, uncaring, blazed and buzzed around her.

  She decided to go on. For perhaps half an hour she wandered completely lost. She didn’t know what trees she passed, what stones she stumbled over, but at last she saw the familiar headland and the boulder—only she was approaching it from the other direction. There was no one there. She had a great sinking of heart. She began to run on the firm ground toward the boulder. When she reached it, she stopped and put her shoes and stockings down. She had heard steps coming along the path.

  Instantly Mr. Shawnessy appeared. She had beaten him to the rock.

  She stood, watching him, her lips parted, unable to take her eyes away from him. He walked swiftly up the path, watching her all the time, and when he reached her, he put one arm out as if to steady her, for in fact she was swaying like a great flower bending on its stalk. She put her arms up over his arms, knocking his coat to the ground, and she clung to him so tight that she nearly pulled him
off balance. His face was very close to hers. Then she was touching her face against his face. She felt his mustache on her cheek and against her neck as she held to him, shutting her eyes to the unendurable sunlight. Her body seemed to tip backward and sway as if her head had become too heavy for the rest of her.

  Come to Lake Paradise, in the very center of Raintree County, 0, come, come, come to—0, come to Lake Paradise in the very lifegiving warmth and brightness of—o, come, come, come to—

  Esther couldn’t talk, and he put her down on the rock where she sat, still clinging to him.

  —I had no idea, child, that you felt this way, he said.

  —O, yes, she said, I’ve always loved you, ever since I was a little girl. There was always only one man for me.

  He began to tell her something about his marital situation. She nodded her head, but just then this information didn’t seem important to her. He went on explaining something to her with great care, and she kept nodding her head, and still holding to him. She kept shutting her eyes and then opening them hastily as if she were afraid to find that all her happiness was a mirage. Finally, he said,

  —Well, what about it, Esther? Do you want me, knowing all that?

  —O, yes, Mr. Shawnessy, she said.

  He smiled and said,

  —Don’t you think you could call me by my first name now?

  —I’ll think of something, she said.

  She didn’t want to leave the wild side of the lake and return to Raintree County, but about four o’clock Mr. Shawnessy said they must be back before the picnickers.

  —We’ll have to be careful, he said. We mustn’t tell anyone, of course, until I have a chance to work this out and find a way to make it all right.

  It was hard to be careful, though, during the next few days. The rest of the people at Paradise Lake had become as though they didn’t exist for her. She smiled at them, listened to them, even sometimes said something, but she wasn’t sure afterward what she had said and whether it made any sense at all. In a single hour, the real world had been enormously contracted and by the same token enormously expanded. There were only Mr. Shawnessy, herself, and the lake, and the hours that they spent together. All other hours were a vague dream of waiting to be alone with him. And if some afternoon the mythical youth had suddenly disclosed himself to her, she knew that she would become his companion in ecstasy beneath the Raintree. But he remained lost and didn’t appear, and neither of the two lovers ever referred to him.

  —Esther, Ivy Foster said to her sharply one day while they were dressing and no one else was around, what’s happened to you?

  —I don’t know, Ivy, Esther said, smiling tranquilly. Why, what do you think has happened?

  —I think you’re in love, Ivy said. You silly little fool, you are in love!

  —Well, Esther said. Yes, that’s it. I’m in love.

  —You’re in love with Mr. Shawnessy, you crazy little thing!

  —Yes, Esther said, smiling a sweet smile of resignation and candor. Yes, I am.

  —Is he in love with you?

  —Yes.

  —Don’t you know, Ivy Foster said, her eyes brilliant at the pleasure of having discovered a real passion and a shocking one at that, don’t you know that he was married and has a wife and——

  —Yes. Yes, I know. It doesn’t make any difference. I always did love him.

  —We mustn’t tell anyone, Ivy said. Maybe it can be arranged. Maybe the woman will die, or something.

  —Maybe so, Esther said.

  She was hoping that the woman would die. It seemed the only decent and honorable thing that the woman could do. Surely if the woman knew the great love that was between Esther Root and Mr. Shawnessy, she would understand the importance of gracefully dying and permitting that great love to have its course.

  —What about your Pa? Ivy said.

  At this, Esther came suddenly to her senses. Here was the thing that she had been hiding from herself. Here at Lake Paradise, she had denied that other world.

  —I don’t know, she said. I dasn’t tell him.

  —He’ll hear, Ivy said.

  —He mustn’t, Esther said. We must hide it.

  —You aren’t hiding anything, Ivy said. Anyone can tell you’re-sappy about Mr. Shawnessy. Everyone’s talking about it.

  Next day, a mature maiden lady who had spent a good deal of time thrusting a bounteous bosom under Mr. Shawnessy’s perceptive nose during the earlier days of the Institute, took Esther aside and said in an ardently friendly way,

  —Esther Root, I’m goin’ to tell you something for your own good, because I’m your friend and a friend of your family. Everyone knows the goings on between you and Mr. Shawnessy. Now, you’re headin’ for trouble, dear. It’s nothing to me person’ly, but I take a personal interest because of your family and all, and I know how your pa would take it, just to mention one. You must know that John Shawnessy is not a free man, dear, and his reputation isn’t anything to shout about. Besides, child, he’s twice your age, even if he doesn’t look it. Now, I say all this in the warmest spirit of personal friendship, and I’m a little older than you myself, dear, and take this sisterly interest in your welfare, out of my personal friendship for you and your family. What I say is you’d better not have anything more to do with him. That’s just my personal advice to you, and you can do what you want with it.

  Esther didn’t feel anger or any other very definite feeling except foreboding and sadness. She thanked the lady and said it was kind of her to say tactfully and honestly what she thought about things.

  That afternoon she and Mr. Shawnessy went walking as usual.

  The night before the Institute was going to end, there was a big dance in the dining room of the Biltmore Hotel. Esther danced all the dances with Mr. Shawnessy. It was a hot, hushed night on the lake. Parties of young people came out from Freehaven, and there was a tumult of buggies coming and going in the darkness. A sound of singing came from across the water, and someone said that some of the young men at the dance were drunk.

  Around ten o’clock, while she was dancing with Mr. Shawnessy, she looked up and saw Pa standing at the door of the hotel. He had his riding whip in his hand, and his big face was stern.

  Then she knew that she had sinned a sin so blissful that the penalty must be proportionately severe. She kept her eyes on the floor while Pa walked across the room in his great boots.

  He didn’t look at Mr. Shawnessy. He held out his hand to her. Putting her hand in Pa’s, she walked toward the door, but just before leaving the hall, she turned and looked once at Mr. Shawnessy. His eyes had a curious brightness.

  Then she was following Pa out, and they got into the buggy, and Pa laid his whip to the horse, and they were riding away.

  —Esther, Pa said after they had ridden for a long time in silence and had at last reached a main road, I know you didn’t know what you was doing. It wasn’t your fault. You’re only a child after all. I know I’ve only to tell you what kind of man this feller is to make you see the light. This John Shawnessy is plain no good. If it were anyone else in the world, I don’t know as I would stand in your way. But in this case, I feel it my fatherly duty to protect you. This feller comes from a nogood family, and he’s no good himself. He has a weak streak in him, always had. Besides, he’s married and had a child by his wife years ago. They’s a big mystery about what ever happened to her. He’s a queer sort of feller—folks say he’s an atheist. Any which way you look at it, Esther, he’s not fit to lick your boot. Now, I want you to know that I don’t blame you at all. I blame him. And by the livin’ God, if ever I catch him hangin’ around you again——

  Pa’s deep voice rose and trembled violently; his body seemed to bulge as if enlarged by passion.

  —You’re wrong, Pa, she said. He’s a good man.

  She couldn’t remember ever before saying to Pa in so many words that he was wrong. But Pa’s voice was deceptively gentle as he said,

  —You’re just a child,
Esther. I don’t blame you at all. You just don’t understand about these things. I’m your pa, and I know what’s good for you. In this case, you’ll just have to take my word for it. I think I know how you feel. This man is much older than you, child, why, he’s about as old as I am, old enough to be your—your father.

  She was crying then, sobbing hopelessly as the buggy went on through the night farther and farther from Lake Paradise and back across the level part of the County toward the Farm, from which, as it now seemed, ages ago she had . . .

  Come to Lake Paradise. It is—it is in the very center of Raintree County, and here (but 0, so long, so many years ago) the father and mother of mankind walked alone and naked. O, come to Paradise Lake in the center of Raintree County! Here was planted the tree from which the County takes its name. O, did we not eat long ago of the fruit—of the delectable flesh of the fruit of the golden tree? It was so long ago, and now the tree is gone, only the scar remains, and the fruit is stricken from our hands. Come back, come back to Paradise Lake, from the wrath of the allseeing father, come back, my darkhaired child,

  SOME DAY TO THE STILL WATERS AND

  THE CIRCLING HILLS OF

  LAKE

  —PARADISE lost in one willful act! For the Woman takes the fruit and bursts it between her lips. And she finds it delicious. And she’s not satisfied to have a little of it. O, no! She takes down whole armfuls of it, and she and the Serpent both eat of it and gorge themselves on it, and then she goes out and finds her husband. O, I’ve just found the most wonderful thing, Adam! Here, take a taste. Poor Adam suspects what she has done, deep in his heart he knows, but the Woman beguiles him to sin with her. And Adam takes a taste of it too. Hit is good, he says. Hit’s wonderful! she says. And the taste of that fruit maddens them. They look at each other with new eyes. And, o, I’m afraid, I’m very much afraid, that the father and mother of mankind give rein to lewd and improper desires. Anyway, such is the interpretation of Milton, the great Puritan poet. Let us draw a curtain of reticence on them, poor, sinnin’ creatures wallowin’ briefly in the pleasures of their lustful discovery. Hit is good, Adam says. O, hit’s wonderful! she says.