All resistance in me evaporated. I let him lower me to the pillow. I closed my eyes and felt his lips trace the lines of my bosom and then move down to my belly button. I felt his hot breath on my stomach.
"Lillian," he whispered. "I love you. I do love you."
I pressed my hands to his face and brought him up until his lips were on mine again, while his hands continued to fondle my breasts.
"Niles, we better stop before it's too late."
"I will," he promised, but he didn't stop and I didn't push him away, even after I felt his hardness building against me.
"Niles, have you ever done anything like this before?" I asked.
"No."
"Then how do we know when to stop?" I asked. He was so occupied with caressing me, he didn't respond, but I knew if I didn't remind him, we would certainly go too far. "Niles, please, how do we know when to stop?"
"We'll know," he promised and kissed me harder. I felt his hand move in between his stomach and mine until it settled over my pelvic bone and his fingers twitched, causing a shock of such great excitement to pass through my body that I jumped.
"No, Niles," I said, pushing him away with all the resistance I had left in me. "If we do that, we won't stop."
He lowered his head and took deep breaths and then nodded.
"You're right," he said, and turned over on the bed. I could see the bulge in his pants.
"Does it ache, Niles?" I asked.
"What?" He looked in the direction I was gazing and sat up quickly.
"Oh. No," he said, turning crimson. "I'm all right. But I'd better go. I don't know how good I can be if I stay here much longer," he confessed. He got up quickly and brushed back his hair. He avoided looking at me and went to the window. "I'd better get back anyway."
I wrapped my blanket around me and went to him. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder and he kissed my hair.
"I'm glad you came, Niles."
"Me too."
"Be careful getting down from the roof. It's very high."
"Hey, I'm an expert tree climber, aren't I?"
"Yes. I remember," I said, laughing, "that was practically the first thing you told me that first day we walked home from school together—you bragged about tree climbing."
"I'd climb the highest mountain, the tallest tree to get to you, Lillian," he swore. We kissed and then he crawled out. He hesitated by my window for a moment and disappeared in the darkness. I listened to him scurry over the roof.
"Good night," I whispered.
"Good night," I heard him whisper back and then I closed the window.
Charles Slope was the first to find him the next morning, crumpled beside the house, his neck broken from the fall.
10
ALL MY LUCK IS BAD
I awoke to the sound of screams. I recognized Tottie's voice and then I heard Charles Slope shouting orders to some of the other help. I slipped into my robe quickly and stepped into my slippers. The commotion continued outside, so I defied Papa's order and left my room. I hurried down the hallway to the top of the stairway. Like frightened chickens, everyone was running every which way. I saw Vera charge through the foyer carrying a blanket. I shouted for her, but she didn't hear me, so I started down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Emily screamed from behind me. She had just stepped out of her room.
"Something terrible has happened. I've got to see what it is," I explained.
"Papa said you can't leave your room. Get back!" she ordered, her long arm and bony forefinger jabbing toward my door. I ignored her and continued down the stairs. "Papa forbade you to leave your room. Get back!" she screamed, but I was already crossing the foyer to the front door.
I wish I had gone back. I wish I had never left that room, never gone out of this house, never met a living soul. A small, empty feeling had started at the bottom of my stomach even before I reached the front door. It felt as if I had swallowed a chicken feather and it floated within me, occasionally tickling my insides. Somehow I managed to continue, to walk out of the house, down the porch steps and around to the side where I saw Charles, Vera, Tottie and two of the laborers gazing down at the body now beneath the blanket. When I saw and recognized the shoes poking out, I felt my legs soften and turn into rubber. I looked up and saw the broken gutter pipe dangling and I screamed and fell to the lawn.
Vera was the first to reach me. She embraced me and I rocked in her arms.
"What happened?" I cried.
"Charles says that gutter pipe gave way and he fell. He must've landed on his head is all we can figure."
"Is he all right?" I cried. "He must be all right."
"No, honey, he ain't. It's the Thompson boy, ain't it? Was he in your room last night?" she asked. I nodded.
"But he left early and he's a good climber," I said. "He can climb the toughest tree."
"It wasn't him; it was the gutter pipe," Vera repeated. "His folks must be out of their minds wondering what happened to him. Charles sent Clark Jones over to the Thompsons'."
"I want to see him," I said. Vera helped me stand and guided me over to Niles. Charles looked up from the body and shook his head.
"That piece of pipe was rusted in the joints and just couldn't hold his weight. He shouldn't have depended on it," Charles said.
"Is he going to be all right? Is he?" I asked desperately.
Charles looked at Vera and then at me.
"He ain't with us no more, Miss Lillian. The fall . . . killed him. Snapped his neck, I reckon."
"Oh, please, no. Please, God, no," I moaned, and went to my knees beside Niles's body. Slowly, I pulled the blanket back and looked at him. His eyes were already sewn tight by Death, Death who had visited this house before and gleefully stolen away Eugenia. I shook my head in disbelief. This couldn't be Niles. The face was too pale, the lips too blue and too thick. None of the facial features were Niles's. Niles was a handsome boy with dark, sensitive eyes and a soft smile in his lips. No, I told myself, it wasn't Niles. I smiled at the stupidity of my mistake.
"It's not Niles," I said, and breathed relief. "I don't know who it is, but it's not Niles. Niles is far more handsome." I looked at Vera who stared at me with pity. "It's not Vera. It's someone else. Maybe it's a prowler. Maybe . . ."
"Come on inside, honey," she said, lifting me and embracing me. "It's a horrible sight."
"But it's not Niles. Niles is home, safe. You'll see when they send Clark Jones back," I said, but my body was still trembling. My teeth were even chattering.
"Okay, honey, okay."
"But Niles did climb up to see me last night because I wasn't permitted to go to the party. We spent a little time together and then he climbed out of my window and down. He ran off in the darkness and rejoined his family at the party. Now he's home in bed or maybe he's just getting up for breakfast," I explained as we walked back toward the front of the house.
Emily stood waiting on the porch steps with her arms folded under her chest.
"What is it?" she demanded. "What's all the shouting about?"
"It's the Thompson boy, Niles," Vera replied. "He must have fallen climbing down from the roof. A gutter pipe snapped and . . ."
"The roof?" Emily scrutinized me quickly. "He was in your room last night? SINNER!" she screamed before I could respond. "You had him in your room!"
"No." I shook my head. I felt light, aloof, drifting like the long, puffy clouds floating across the silvery blue sky. "No, I went to the party. That's right. I was at the party. Niles and I danced all night. We had a wonderful time. Everyone was looking at us with envy. We danced like two angels."
"You took him to your bed, didn't you?" Emily accused. "You seduced him. Jezebel!"
I simply smiled at her.
"You took him to bed and the Lord punished him for it. He's dead because of you, because of you," she declared.
My lips began to tremble again. I shook my head. I'm not out here; it's not really morning, I thought. None of this is really hap
pening. I'm dreaming; it's a terrible nightmare. Any moment I'm going to waken in my room, in my bed, snug and secure.
"Wait until Papa finds out about this. He'll skin you alive. You should be stoned, just like the whores of old, taken out and stoned," she said in her most arrogant, haughty voice.
"Miss Emily, that's a horrible thing to say. She's so upset she doesn't know where she is or what's happening," Vera said. Emily lifted her eyes of fire and directed them at our new servant.
"Don't you go pitying her now. That's how she gets you not to see her evil ways. She's a shrewd conniver. She's a curse and always has been, right from the day she was born and her mother died giving birth to her."
Vera didn't know I wasn't Mamma and Papa's child. The news shocked her, but she didn't release her hold on me nor back away.
"No one's a curse, Miss Emily. You must not say such a thing. Come on, honey," she told me. "You'd better go back up and rest. Come along."
"It's not Niles, is it?" I asked her.
"No, it's not," she said. I turned and smiled back at Emily.
"It's not Niles," I said.
"Jezebel," she muttered, and went off to look at the body.
Vera took me up to my room and put me to bed. She drew the blanket up to my chin.
"I'll bring you something hot to drink and something to eat. You'd better just stay put, Miss Lillian," she said, leaving me.
I lay there listening. I heard the noises, the sound of the horses, the carriage, the cries. I recognized Mr. Thompson's voice and I heard the twins crying and then it grew deadly silent. Vera brought me a tray.
"It's all over now," she told me. "He's been taken away."
"Who has?"
"The young man who fell from the roof," Vera said.
"Oh. Did we know him, Vera?" She shook her head. "Still, it's horrible. What about Mamma? Did she see and hear all the commotion?"
"No. Sometimes, her condition is a blessing," Vera said. "She didn't come out of her bedroom this morning. She's in bed, reading."
"Good," I said. "I don't want another thing to disturb her. Is Papa home yet?"
"No, not yet," Vera said. She shook her head. "Poor thing. I'm sure you'll be the first to know when he is." She watched me sip my tea and spoon up some of the hot oatmeal. Then she left.
I finished eating as quickly as I could and then decided I would get up and get dressed. I was sure Papa would permit me to leave my room today when he returned. My punishment would be over and I wanted to plan some things for Niles and myself to do. If Papa would permit me to leave the house, to take a walk, I would go over to the Thompsons and visit. I wanted to see all the wonderful gifts the twins must have surely gotten. And while I was there, of course, I would see Niles and perhaps he would walk me home. We might even make a detour to the magic pond.
I went to my vanity table, brushed out my hair and tied a pink ribbon in it. I put on a bright blue dress and waited patiently, sitting by the windows and looking out at the soft blue sky, imagining what the various puffs of clouds resembled. One looked like a camel because of the rise in the middle and one looked like a turtle. It was a game Niles and I played at the pond. He would say, "I see a boat," and I would have to point to the cloud. I bet he's sitting at his window and doing the same thing right now, I thought. I just bet he is. That was the way we were—always thinking and feeling the same things at the same time. We were meant to be lovers.
When Papa came home, his steps on the stairway were so heavy and hard, his pounding boots reverberated down the corridor. They seemed to shake the very foundation of the plantation house and echo through all the walls. It was as though a giant was coming home, the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. Papa opened my door slowly. Filling the doorway with his wide shoulders, he stood there silently gazing in at me. His face was crimson, his eyes wide.
"Hello, Papa," I said and smiled. "It's pretty outside today, isn't it? Did you have a successful business trip?"
"What have you done?" he asked, his voice throaty. "What new terrible shame and humiliation have you brought to the house of Booth?"
"I didn't disobey you, Papa. I stayed in my room last night just as you ordered and I'm very sorry for the pain I brought to you. Can't you forgive me now? Please?"
He grimaced as if he had just put a rotten pecan in his mouth.
"Forgive you? I don't have the power to forgive you. The minister doesn't even have that power. Only God can forgive you and I'm sure He has His reasons to hesitate. I feel sorry for your soul. It's bound for hell for sure," he said, and shook his head.
"Oh no, Papa. I'm saying the prayers Emily gave me to say. Look, Papa," I said, and rose to get the sheet of paper on which was the Psalm. I held it out for him to see, but Papa didn't look at it or take it. Instead, he continued to glare, shaking his head more emphatically.
"You're not going to do anything else to bring shame on this family. You were a burden for me from the very beginning, but I took you in because you were an orphan. Now look at the thanks I get. Instead of blessings raining down on us, we have curses and more curses. Emily's right about you. You're a Jonah and a Jezebel." He pulled himself up into a firm position and lay his sentence on me like a judge from the Bible.
"From this day forward until I say otherwise, you are not to leave The Meadows. Your schooling's over. You will spend your time in prayer and meditation and I will personally see to your acts of contrition. Now answer me straightforward," he boomed. "Did you let that boy get to know you in a Biblical sense?"
"What boy, Papa?"
"That Thompson boy. Did you copulate with him? Did he take your innocence in that bed last night?" he asked, pointing toward my pillow and blanket.
"Oh no, Papa. Niles respects me. We just danced, really."
"Danced?" Confusion washed across his eyes. "What in tarnation are you talking about, girl?" He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me critically. I held my soft smile. "What's wrong with you, Lillian? Don't you know what terrible thing you did and what terrible thing happened? How can you stand there with that silly grin on your face?"
"I'm sorry, Papa," I said. "I can't help but be happy. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Not for the Thompsons it isn't. This is the darkest day of William Thompson's life, the day he lost his only son, and I know what it feels like not having a son to inherit your family name and your land. Now wipe that smile off your face," Papa ordered, but I couldn't do it. He stepped forward and slapped me so hard my head went to my shoulder, but my smile didn't fade. "Stop it!" he said. He slapped me again, this time sending me to the floor. It hurt, stung and ached. My eyes spun and I was dizzy, but I looked up at him, still smiling.
"It's too nice a day to be unhappy, Papa. Can't I go out, please? I want to take a nice walk and listen to the birds and see the sky and the trees. I'll be good. I promise."
"Don't you hear what I'm saying?" he roared, standing over me. "Don't you know what you did when you let that boy climb up here?" He straightened out his arm and pointed to the window. "He climbed out that window and fell all the way to his death. His neck's broke. That boy's dead. He's dead, Lillian! God's teeth," Papa declared. "Don't tell me you're going to become as loony as Georgia now. I won't have it!"
He reached down and seized me by my hair, lifting me to my feet. The pain made me scream. Then he marched me to the window.
"Look out there," he said, pressing my face to the pane. "Go on, look out. Who was there last night? Who? Talk. Tell me right now or so help me, Lillian, I'll strip you naked and whip you until you either die or tell me. Who?"
He held my head so I couldn't look away and for a moment I saw Niles's face gazing in at me, his smile wide, his eyes impish.
"Niles," I said. "Niles was there."
"That's right and then he left and tried climbing down, only the pipe give way on him and he fell. You know what happened to him then, don't you? You saw the body, Lillian. Vera told me you did."
I shook my head. "No," I said.
"Yes, yes, yes," Papa pounded. "It's the Thompson boy who lay dead there all night until Charles found him in the morning. The Thompson boy. Say it, damn you to hell. Say it. Niles Thompson is dead. Say it."
My heart was a wild, frantic animal in my chest, thudding hard against my ribs, screaming and wanting to get out. I started to cry, silently at first, the tears just streaming down my cheeks. Then my shoulders shook and I felt my stomach folding in, my legs softening, but Papa held me firmly in his grip.
"Say it!" he screamed in my ear. "Who's dead? Who?"
The word came up slowly out of my throat like a cherry pit I had nearly swallowed and had to spit out. "Niles," I muttered.
"Who?"
"Niles. Oh God, no. Niles."
Papa released me and I crumpled at his feet. He stood there looking down at me.
"I'm sure you're lying about what went on here between you and him, too," he said, nodding. "I'll drive the devil out of your soul," Papa muttered. "I promise, I'll drive him out. We will start your penance today." He pivoted and marched to the door. When he opened it, he turned back.
"Emily and I," he declared, "will drive the devil out. So help me God."
He left me sobbing on the floor.
I lay there for hours, my ear to the floor, listening to the sounds below, hearing the muffled voices and the movements, feeling the vibrations. I imagined I was a fetus, still in her mother's womb, her ear against the membrane wall, picking up the sounds of the world that awaited, every syllable, every tap, every note something to wonder about; only unlike a fetus, I had memories. I knew that the tinkle of a dish or a glass meant the dinner table was being set, a gruff voice meant Papa was giving an order. I recognized most everyone's footsteps outside my door and knew when Emily was parading by, her Bible in hand, her lips following some prayer. I listened hard for some sound that suggested Mamma, but there was none.
When Vera came up to my room, she found me still on the floor. She released a small cry and put the tray down.
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