She turned from the window and went into the parlor to pick up the dishes and cups while Shelby napped in her chair. How come the right people never cared about each other? Life was a cruel joke. As if to affirm that, the baby in her womb gave a little kick. Cassie carried the dishes into the kitchen and set them in the old porcelain sink, then leaned on the counter, closed her eyes, and cried.
Shelby left for Boston the following Sunday. Shane drove her down and would spend the evening, then return to Vermont late that night. Cassie took the opportunity to visit with her dad and sisters for a day, then went into New Hampshire with Marcia to see a movie. Afterwards, the two women stopped for drinks at the lounge in the Sheraton Inn. A three-piece band was playing soft music as they settled at a small table in the corner and ordered whiskey sours.
“When does Teddy get home?” Cassie asked.
“Sometime after midnight.” Marcia grinned and waved her dark eyebrows suggestively. “I’m ready. It’s been a long time.”
Cassie smiled and looked out over the crowd in the lounge. Couples were dancing close, the way she and Sonny used to do so very long ago.
“So, what’s with Sonny anyway?” Marcia asked as if reading her mind. She took a moment to smile up at the young man who delivered their drinks, then returned her undivided attention to Cassie.
“What do you think? Junior here. What else?”
“Why don’t you tell him the truth?”
Cassie clicked her tongue in irritation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can never tell him. Besides, either he loves me or he doesn’t. It won’t matter whose baby it is.”
“Of course it matters. He thinks you cheated on him with Claude Bennerup. I mean, really. Claude Bennerup?”
“Well, I had to say something. What was I supposed to do?”
“Tell him the truth. Read my lips: tell … him … the … truth!”
“I can’t. I can’t risk his reaction. And it wouldn’t change his mind.”
“It might. He’s very honorable.”
Cassie snorted. “Tell me about it. Mr. Honorable. He’s been driving me nuts for years.”
“That’s right. And it’s his fault you ended up getting raped! I know he’ll see it that way!”
“Marcia, let’s change the subject. I know Sonny better than you do. He will go into a rage and kill him, and I can’t take that chance.”
Marcia paused to light a cigarette, then took a sip from her drink. “Do you really think it’s fair to blame it on Claude when he’s not the father? I mean, that’s the word around town.”
“What difference does it make? Claude doesn’t care. He’s got bastard kids all over the place. They’re a tribute to his manhood.”
“So what’s keeping Sonny from breaking Claude’s face?”
Cassie took a long sip from her drink. “Number one, the man’s built like Mount Washington, and Sonny’s no fool. Number two, Sonny has never gone all the way with me in eight years. He can’t blame Claude if he thinks I was out looking for it, because I sure don’t get it from him.”
“So then, why is he pissed?”
“Probably because Claude’s the male equivalent of the town whore.”
Marcia’s left eyebrow went up ever so slightly. She took another sip of her drink and a drag on the cigarette. “Well, kiddo, I don’t know what to tell you. I still think you’re wrong to protect you-know-who. Especially at the price you’re paying.”
“What price, really?” Cassie sighed. “Sonny’s pledged to celibacy until marriage, and marriage doesn’t seem to be on his agenda. At least not to me.”
Marcia looked up at Cassie. “Has he got someone else?”
“Not that I know of. But I mean, what’s he been waiting for? If he wanted to marry me, what’s been keeping him? He obviously hasn’t wanted to, but I’ll be damned if I know why.”
“Maybe he’s too young. Maybe he still hasn’t figured out his own life. I mean, it’s got to be lousy having everyone in town know your father’s been in half the skirts in Chatham and you’re the bastard kid hand-delivered to his wife! And an Indian besides.”
“Well, how long is it going to take? He’s lived with it for twenty-five years. It’s not going to get better by not getting married.” Cassie signaled the waiter for another drink. “And I don’t care what he is. I’ve never cared. If he wants to move away from here, I’ll go. I’ve told him that.”
“Maybe he figures he’d just be out of place somewhere new. He’d still be Indian.”
“Maybe he’s gay.”
Marcia laughed. “Sonny? I don’t think so!”
“How would you know? I mean, how can he keep it up for all these years?”
“’Keep it up?’ Very funny.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What makes you think he’s not getting it somewhere else?” Marcia kept her eyes on the ashes she was tapping into the ashtray between them.
“But see, that’s what I don’t understand! Why would he?”
Marcia’s eyes came up to meet Cassie’s. “Because he doesn’t want to get you pregnant. When he marries you, he wants it to be his choice. But he’s a red-blooded guy. He’s got to be getting it somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Don’t tell me that’s something you haven’t thought of.”
Cassie looked away from her friend’s penetrating gaze. “It’s not something I want to think about. The thought kills me.”
Marcia looked back out over the dance floor. “So tell me about this Shane guy. You say he’s gorgeous?”
“Yeah, he really is. And she’s never even seen him.”
“And they don’t screw.”
“She says they used to be lovers, but not anymore.”
“Can she do it? You said she’s got bad hips or something.”
“They used to do it, so that’s not the reason. She does still go for operations, but they’re supposed to be making it easier for her to walk. I suppose she can’t do anything right after an operation, but nobody could. That’s why she went to Boston today, by the way. For another operation.”
“What a lousy time to go for an operation, at Christmas.”
“She does it every year.”
“Come again?”
“She does it on purpose. She can’t stand Christmas since her accident. So she goes into the hospital and has her next operation. That way she can avoid too much Christmas stuff.”
The waiter brought fresh drinks for both of them and removed their empty glasses. Marcia lit another cigarette from the first and looked out over the dance floor. “What a weird thing,” she said softly. “What’s she doing around here, anyway?”
“She used to live in Hanover. Her husband was a Dartmouth student. He was getting his Ph.D. in something or other. She used to work at Hitchcock. My cousin David remembers seeing her there.” Cassie sipped at her drink. “She just wanted to come back to the area, I guess.”
“You’d think it would be easier for her to live in a city.”
“I don’t think so. I think part of the reason she chose Chatham was to be in a small town. I think she feels she’s got a better chance to be left alone so she can live her own life.”
“What a lousy life.”
“I don’t know. She’s pretty upbeat about it. Most of the time. It’s like she refuses to let it get her down.”
“Man, it would get me down. It must be weird being blind after you could see.”
“it’s weird living with someone who’s blind, I can tell you that! Like at night, she’ll be in a room with no lights on, and you go in there and put the lights on and there she is! Scared the hell out of me the first few times.”
“What does she do in the dark? Well, I mean, I guess she’s always in the dark, but what does she do? It must be so boring.”
“She works at a word processor a lot. Shane dictates stuff and she types it out for him, like this instruction manual he’s writing and other stuff for this school he’s going to have. She has special books that come in the mail. Th
ey’re on cassettes. He taught her to play guitar, and now she’s learning to play a hammered dulcimer. Sometimes, I guess she just sits around and thinks. Plus, it takes her forever to do stuff like take a shower or get dressed, but she does it all herself.” Cassie paused to sip her drink. “One thing, though; she almost always eats alone. She won’t eat in front of anyone unless it’s something you hold in your hand like a sandwich.”
“Really? Why?”
“Close your eyes and try finding your dinner some time,” Cassie grinned.
They ordered a third round of drinks, and then Marcia said, “So what are you going to do when you’re alone all week with Shawn and he comes on to you?”
“ ‘Shane’ not ‘Shawn,’” Cassie giggled. She was beginning to feel a little giddy. “I don’t think he will. We sleep across the hall from each other now, but I never even see him.”
“But she’s always been around.”
“I know, but he never flirts or anything. It’s just not his way.”
“Maybe he thinks he’s too good for you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. There are some guys who are just plain decent, you know.”
“Yeah, mostly the ones who can’t get it up,” Marcia said. “Hey, maybe that’s it! Maybe it’s not her but him! Or maybe he’s gay. The gorgeous ones usually are.”
“He’s not gay. He had eyes for Corey Sloan today.”
“Corey Sloan? That bitch? You’re kidding me!”
“Hey, Grant’s still plenty stuck on her.”
Marcia gave a small snort of her own. “Grant’s too nice. He needs to get over her and move on to a real woman. Someone like you. Forget Sonny. Go for Grant.”
“Uh-huh.” Cassie drank down the last of the sour. “It’s almost midnight. Teddy’s going to be home soon. We’d better go. I’m glad you’re driving, that’s all I can say.”
Marcia frowned at her. “Are you going to be able to drive home from my place? I can take you home first, if you want. You can get Sonny’s truck tomorrow.”
Cassie shook her head. “I’ll be fine. There’s no way I want Sonny’s truck to be there when Teddy comes home!”
“Amen to that,” Marcia said as she gathered her things and stood up to leave.
When Cassie drove into the yard, the house was dark. She sat in the truck for a moment, her eyes closed, and wished she could sleep right there. Her head was swimming, and only the cold night air coming in the open truck window was keeping her awake.
She forced herself to close the window and step out into the cold. The station wagon was nowhere in sight, but if Shane were home, he probably would have put it in the garage. The path of least resistance for her would be through the front door of the house. She found her house key—for these city people insisted on locking everything—and walked slowly to the front door, careful to maintain her balance on the snowy walkway. She inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed open the door. Warm dry air engulfed her as she stepped into the darkened house. The stairway was dead ahead, and she took it without turning on any lights. Her only goal now was to fall into bed.
Shane’s room was dark as she passed by, and she could not tell if he was there. It hardly mattered at this point. She turned into her room and felt for the switch, blinding herself with the light when it came on. She felt terrible. She was about to turn the light off again when a cramping in her stomach overwhelmed her. It was followed by a wave of nausea that pushed up into her throat. The only bathroom in the house was downstairs.
Before she could reach the hall and head for the stairs, her stomach tightened violently. She held onto the footboard of her bed and began to vomit on the bedroom floor.
Without warning, Shane was there, holding her arms as she doubled over to retch and gag. When she finished, he scooped her up and started down the stairs. Horrified at what was happening, Cassie closed her eyes and turned her face away from his. He carried her into the bathroom and set her gently on the toilet seat cover, then went to the linen closet for a face cloth. Her limbs were shaking now, and when he approached her with the wet facecloth, she took it from him with a half-hearted smile and cleaned off her face, then shakily rose to lean over the sink and wash out her mouth. A second gut-wrenching wave of nausea struck her, and she gagged up more clear fluid. Shane held her shoulders until she was done, then reseated her on the toilet cover and took the cloth from her hand. Cassie closed her eyes and let him wash her face as if she were a child. He dabbed the cloth at the front of her shirt where she had spotted it, then handed her a glass of water. She rinsed her mouth of the wretched taste and managed to lean over the sink to spit it out. She felt perfectly awful now, both physically and emotionally. She rinsed her mouth again, with mouthwash this time, and sat on the toilet cover wishing she could die. Why did this have to happen with him? She had been sick in front of Sonny, but somehow that hadn’t seemed so mortifying.
The thought of Sonny made her ache for him now to come and take care of her, and she began to cry in spite of herself. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed for him, letting all the anguish of the past few weeks burst forth. Shane knelt on one knee on the bathroom floor and put his arms around her, pulling her to him until she was resting against his shoulder. She sobbed until she was worn out, and then she collapsed against him and let his closeness comfort her.
He picked her up once more and proceeded to carry her back up the stairs. Cassie buried her face in his shoulder and held tightly to him. He had said nothing the entire time, and she dared not look at his face. He carried her into the room beside her own and placed her on the bed, then disappeared. She was vaguely aware of sounds coming from the room next door, but exhaustion was taking its toll, and she gratefully drifted into the welcome oblivion of sleep.
She awoke the next morning in fitful stages, drifting in and out of sleep, feeling vaguely aware that something wasn’t right. Her body felt restricted and she was uncomfortable, but her mind was lost in a groggy fog and more than anything, she just wanted to sleep.
She awakened again. This time she was aware of a sour smell, and then suddenly she remembered. Her eyes flew open and she looked around the dimly lit room. She was in the guest bed, under the covers. The wool skirt she had been wearing the night before was draped over the end of the bed. Her hand flew to her chest. She was still wearing a blouse and a bra; the smell was coming from her blouse. Her legs were covered with her tights; he had taken off her shoes and skirt and left the rest.
She breathed a sigh of relieve, but her tranquility was short-lived as details of last night’s nightmare began to surface. Her handsome, dignified, and sexy employer had cleaned up her disgusting mess. He had washed her face as if she were a child. Now she had to spend a week with him, and she wondered how she could even face him again.
The minor ache at the top of her head began to intensify, and for a moment she feared she would get sick again. But it was just the morning after headache, and she was going to have to live with it. She glanced at the clock beside the bed. Eight-twenty. She should have been up two hours ago. Moving slowly and carefully, she sat up and worked her way off the bed and into her room next door. She took off the smelly shirt and the bra beneath it and wrapped herself in her bathrobe. Aspirins and a shower were what she needed now. She slipped her feet into her slippers and shuffled out into the hall.
Bright sunlight was streaming through Shane’s bedroom windows; his bed was made and he was not in his room. Hopefully, he was not in the house. She slowly worked her way down the stairs, moving her head as little as possible, gliding through the dining room and into the kitchen. To her dismay, Shane was seated at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He looked up at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good. I’m really sorry about last night.”
“It’s okay. Others have done the same for me. Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea?”
“Maybe later. Right now I need an aspirin.”
She glided through
the kitchen and into the bathroom. Three glasses of water and two aspirins later, she started the shower water running and stepped in. The sour smell was replaced with the freshness of shampoo and soap, then a dusting of lilac talcum powder. The aspirin began to take effect, and when she returned to the kitchen wrapped once more in her bathrobe, she was beginning to feel human again. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Shane had made and sat down at the table across from him. He looked up from his newspaper. “Better?”
Lonely Souls Page 9