Anna seemed to be preoccupied and he wondered if she had heard him. He sensed she was inwardly reacting to something he had just said. He was about to repeat himself when she looked at him again, acknowledgement in her eyes.
“Uh, yes,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I suppose no one would blame him. I guess you’ll find out what the story is when you see him.”
“If I see him. His father may not give him my message, which would be understandable if what we’ve surmised is true. And George may not particularly feel like facing me again anyway. I guess I should forget about it. According to Mr. Bartley, George is alive and well and running his errands and probably wants to forget about New York. I’d only remind him of it, of his humiliation, like you said.”
He lifted a glass of tomato juice. “Here’s to George Bartley, wherever he may be. May we never meet again.” He drank the juice down, wiped his lips and smiled.
But the thought of George stayed with him.
The quarry was deserted except for Anna and David. The day was not very hot, true, but still they had expected to see a few teenagers, at least. It seemed so much more desolate than ever before. Sometimes when David was a boy the kids used to come here at night and it had been so spooky and eerie that none had dared stay there alone. Now even in daylight and years later, that ominous quality remained. David looked down at the water and wondered what might be beneath the surface.
“How long has this place been abandoned?” Anna asked, while they took a few towels and accessories out of the car. She looked around for a good spot to lay claim to. Not that she’d have to fight for one.
“Decades, I guess.” For emphasis he pointed over to an area a few yards distant, where the empty remains of old buildings stood out against the grass. The spot where they had parked the car was gray and packed with gravel, but woods surrounded the quarry on the other three sides. Trees had been cleared for about three yards all around the water, and weeds and bushes sprang up everywhere. Anna carried a picnic basket over to a patch that seemed relatively flat and brush-free. “This looks good,” she shouted to him as he locked the car; an unnecessary gesture—no one was around and they could easily see the auto from any point around the quarry.
“Kids have been swimming here for as long as I can remember,” David continued. “This operation was shut down even before I was born.”
She had placed a blanket over the grass and was stretching out on it. “Ummm, the sun feels good.” She sat up and grabbed for a sweater. “It is a little chilly, though. In fact, I feel kind of silly in a bathing suit.”
“You may feel silly, but you look terrific. I never knew a one-piece could be so voluptuous.” It was light blue, and showed off her figure to maximum advantage.
She laughed appreciatively. “Bikinis are going out of style, haven’t you heard? The latest fad is designer one-pieces. The designers got sick of putting their names on everyone’s ass, so they switched from jeans to bathing suits. Next it’ll be designer bras. Too bad. I burned mine long ago.”
David eased down next to her. “Maybe it’ll get hotter later on.”
“Was that a proposition?”
“Entirely innocent, unless you decide to take it otherwise.”
“Speaking of bathing suits, you fill yours out nicely too, young man.”
David felt self-conscious. “I’m skinny,” he said, fiddling with some grass at his feet. Anna was being kind. He’d lost a lot of weight and muscle tone while in the hospital, and his body was awkward and scrawny.
He knew lie had to gain a few pounds in the right places. He’d have to start on a new exercise routine, too.
Anna laughed. “Not where it counts, you’re not.” She turned around and lay down on her stomach. “It’s so lovely here. So peaceful. I could just fall asleep right now.”
“Better not. I’ll be lonely.”
“Just let me know when you go in the water and I’ll join you.”
“I took a dip the other day. It was too cold. Didn’t stay in long. It made my leg feel strong again, though.
“Your leg?”
He suddenly realized that he had broken new ground absentmindedly, that he’d blindly dived into uncharted territory. He was so sensitive about his leg, how could he have just brought it up like that? Well, there was no backing out now. Surely she had noticed his limp anyway, even seen the leg itself. God, maybe she found it unsightly, hideous. He swallowed his embarrassment, steeled himself, glad she was facing away from him now. “Yeah, my right leg. The one I limp on. I hurt it in an accident awhile ago. Before I met you.” As if she hadn’t realized that, fool!
“It’s not that noticeable,” she said, trying to make light of it without sounding unsympathetic, not an easy trick. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nah,” he said, in a similar tone. His face must have been bright red. He felt it burning. The silence stretched out between them and for the first time he felt discomfort. He wondered what was going through her head. What a relief that they could not see each other’s faces! He hoped he had not offended her. He searched in his mind for something to say. Only by saying something could he dispel any impression she might have that he was hurt or angry. “Feel like eating yet?” he asked finally. “I make great tuna sandwiches.”
“Maybe later, honey.”
Honey. She hadn’t called him that before. Was it an expression of endearment or one of sympathy, of pity? He looked at his leg. He knew there was really nothing there to see. No obvious disfigurement, although he could swear it seemed patchy and red in places. Did the bone stick out at a funny angle? Was he a freak? He knew he was going on about nothing, dangerously close to a jag of debilitating self-pity. He got up and walked over to the water.
The ground inclined sharply before meeting the water’s edge, and the surface of the lake was still and silent. Mosquitoes buzzed nearby in the bushes. A fly went passed, darting over to some rocks jutting out of the water a few feet away. The whole scene somehow chilled him. Or was it only that awkward moment with Anna a few minutes ago? The thought of unease rising up between them filled him with dread. He had hoped she’d feel at home here, at home with him.
He felt movement behind him. He felt Anna’s hand on the back of his neck. Turning, his arms went around her waist almost involuntarily, as hers went up around his neck at the same time. She pulled down, he pulled upwards, their mouths met. Warm, moist, clinging tenderly, yet forcefully, to each other.
One of Anna’s hands explored the corded muscles of his throat, his adam’s apple, then swept down towards his chest, the curly mounds of hair laying like a blanket between and around his breasts. Her fingers centered on a nipple, delicately rubbing, the fingernails scratching the flesh ever so faintly.
His right hand had moved down to her beautiful, curving buttocks, firm and fleshy, wonderful to the touch. His left hand came up and moved towards her breasts; she sighed. As one they began to descend, their arms and legs positioned for balance as they tumbled with surprising grace onto the grass.
And then some damn fool decided to turn onto the road up to the quarry. They heard the car clearly, although it couldn’t yet be seen. Quickly they disentangled themselves, frustration and amusement stamped equally on their faces.
The car, a battered blue station wagon with a dented front fender and a cracked tail light, drove up and parked several yards from their own. Although they could see children inside, they could not hear them. David had never seen such submissive and quiet youngsters before. So far.
Anna smiled. “So much for peace and quiet.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Of course not. They won’t bother me. I like children. Other people’s children.”
David felt the same way. He was discovering new areas of compatibility all the time. Kids needed time and attention. Something a busy fashion model and a struggling commercial artist might not be able to give them. Slow down, he told himself, who’s been talking about marriage? He realized w
ith a slight shock that it was time for him to consider most carefully how much of a commitment he was willing to make. He’d also better be prepared to accept that Anna might not want to jump from one bad marriage into another, although he had every reason to believe he would make a better husband than Derek had.
The driver of the car was busy carrying blankets and containers over to an area which the children had picked out, some distance away from David and Anna. The children were still strangely subdued. Aside from a few unintelligible comments to each other, they said very little, and expressed no enthusiasm or interest in their surroundings whatsoever. Except for the littlest one, a boy, who seemed somewhat intrigued by the water, and who ran down to the edge to peer into it. The other two children, a boy and a girl, watched him but showed no signs of joining. David and Anna walked back up to their blanket.
“Cute kids,” David said. Anna agreed that they were adorable.
“It is getting hotter,” she noticed. “I suppose the whole town will come out now.”
“Maybe. But somehow I think the citizens of Hillsboro have discovered better places to swim in the years since I left home. I’ll have to ask around. I wonder if anyone goes to that old pond George and I used to splash around in.”
“Your father would know.”
“Maybe.”
They watched the man who they assumed was the father trudge over to join his children. He looked like a disagreeable sort: tall, thin, a cold malice in his eyes, a begrudging attitude in his walk. David wondered why the man had bothered to come out here, as neither he nor his children seemed particularly glad to be there.
The children boldly moved away from their spot— where they had placed their towels along with a rubber raft—as soon as the man approached. He didn’t seem to notice or care. He laid his own towel down over the grass and slowly sat down. He was unshaven, his thinning hair all tangled. He was fully dressed, too, in brown pants and a wrinkled white shirt. He stared at the water.
Anna felt uneasy; there was something ghostly about those zombie children and their glaring, silent father. “Not very spirited, are they?” she asked.
“Father must have scolded them or something,” David whispered. “The calm after the storm.”
“Were you a good child?”
“Disgustingly good. Never got in trouble. Had a permanent halo over my head. How about you?”
She poked two fingers up behind her head. “Devil’s horns. I was precocious and nasty.”
“But cute and lovable in spite of it, I bet.”
“I suppose so. I seemed to get away with everything. Well—look who’s here.”
David turned and saw that the younger boy was coming toward them as he circulated the quarry, stopping now and then to investigate a bug or wildflower. He had big eyes and a tousled thatch of blond hair. He wore red shorts, sneakers and a white T shirt. David studied the face more carefully and mentally recoiled. He could tell that Anna had noticed it, too: The child’s face was bruised and marked as if he’d been in a fall or accident. Or worse.
“Hello,” Anna said as the boy passed near them.
“H’lo,” he replied, looking up at them impishly for a second. They failed to hold his interest, and he continued on his way, a midget explorer circling the globe. “He looks like he’s been beaten,” Anna said.
“Just what I was thinking.”
“What a shame. He’s such a beautiful child.”
“We may be jumping to conclusions. He might have gotten in a fight with one of his little friends.”
Anna looked mildly perplexed. “Well naturally. What did you think I meant?” She realized before he had time to answer. “You don’t mean the father? Is that what you . . .?”
“That’s what I thought you meant, yes. But there’s no reason to assume that. Anything could have happened.”
“To one child, maybe,” Anna said, her voice deepening with anger, and dismay. “But not to all three. Look.”
The girl and older boy were slowly following in the younger boy’s footsteps. As they approached, David could see what Anna had been referring to. Their faces were also damaged, cruelly, the red slashes on their cheeks contrasting vividly with the milky whiteness of the otherwise unblemished skin. “Looks like somebody took a whip to them,” David said.
“Oh Davey, I hate people like that.”
The father still sat on the towel, watching the water, lost in his own universe. “We don’t know for sure that he did anything,” David said. “There’s nothing we could do about it anyway. We didn’t see it happen.”
“Can you imagine what it must be like to be a child and to feel unloved?”
David thought for a second, then said: “All children feel that way from time to time, especially when they’re punished. But no, I guess I always knew deep down that I was loved.”
“So did I. First by my parents. Then my aunt and uncle. It must be so lonely. So desolate.”
He followed the children’s progress. The older two had caught up with their brother. He was showing them something on the ground. “At least they have each other,” David said.
“Oh, David,” she said with reproach, “they’re just children.”
There was silence for a moment or two. David suggested they leave. “It’s still too chilly to swim. I think this place is just depressing you.”
“Let’s at least eat some of the lunch you made.”
“All right.” He got up and pulled the picnic basket closer. As he handed her a sandwich, he heard the childrens’ voices rise. They were more animated now over something, acting more the way youngsters should act. Full of curiosity and spirit. “Daddy. Daddy. Come see what we found,” the youngest called.
It was always the youngest ones who forgave first. David could see the boy’s sister ssshing him quickly, turning to confirm her hope that their father had not heard and was not coming over to look at their acquisition. Although the boy’s voice had carried across the quarry with clarity, the father sat looking at the water as if deaf and dumb.
The boy started running back towards them, and for a moment David thought the child might confront his father with the prize, and David wondered if the man would react and what that reaction might be. Instead the boy stopped at their blanket, showing what he’d found to them. “What do you think it is, Mister?”
David took it and laughed. “I wasn’t much of a biologist, but let’s have a look. What do you think, Anna?”
“Ugh,” she exclaimed. “Whatever it is, it’s awful.”
She was right. It appeared to be a long piece of almost perfectly smooth bone, thick at one end, tapering off to a needlelike sharpness at the other. “Looks like a walrus must have dropped it,” David said. It was over a foot long.
The older children had come up to reclaim their brother. “You don’t think it’s a tusk, do you?” the girl said somewhat petulantly. David was reminded of those pitiable plain girls in junior high who wore glasses and were said to be brainy.
“Well, what do you think it is?” David asked. It was smooth to the touch, so smooth that it almost felt wet. Though bent like a tusk, it was clearly something different. The thick end appeared to have broken off of something, and it was honeycombed with round hollow vessels made of some kind of sticky, fleshy material. It couldn’t have come off an animal. David didn’t want to hold it any longer. He handed it up to the girl.
“I don’t know,” the girl admitted, and David liked her better for her ignorance. He hated smart-alecky kids. “It might be part of a rock,” she guessed, “or maybe a tree.”
“How come it’s so yucchy?” the older boy asked.
Anna stopped chewing her sandwich long enough to say, “Why don’t you take that—that thing, whatever it is—back to where you found it. It might have a mother and I wouldn’t care to meet her.”
“This isn’t alive,” the youngest boy protested. “It’s dead.”
“It’s not even an animal,” the girl remarked, that adults-are-du
mb tone back in her voice. “Maybe it’s part of an animal, but I doubt it.”
“Give the National Geographic a call, darling. Now let us eat in peace!”
“Sorry.” The kids moved off en masse, taking their trophy with them. Anna had spoken a bit too harshly, and she apparently regretted it. “Don’t know what got into me. I guess it was the way they were surrounding us, asking all kinds of questions we can’t answer.”
They finished their sandwiches and carried the stuff back to the car. “It’s early yet. How about a walk through the woods? There’s a nice path near here.”
Anna consented. “If we’re not swimming we’ll have to get our exercise some other way.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t get ideas. That was just in appreciation for some wonderful tuna.”
“It was low calorie, too. How about another kiss?” She gave it to him. They put their clothes back on over their suits and locked up the car. He took her hand and led her towards the broken-down buildings in the distance. “The path begins over there,” he explained.
They looked around the quarry before leaving. The children were back to circling the water, voices raised, their sudden energy dispelling much of the worry David and Anna had felt at the sight of their bruises. Anything could have happened. Perhaps someone else had hit them, and that was why their father was deep in thought. Planning revenge.
Although the man who sat staring into the water was the most perfect illustration of self-loathing either of them had ever seen.
They had been walking for about half an hour, traveling along a pathway through the woods that had been beaten down and etched into the earth by thousands of backpackers and boy scouts and junior-grade explorers.
The trees were very close together, and the summer brush filled up all the spaces between them with all manner and shape of flora, from long thin weeds to color-dappled honeysuckle. Anna imagined that this was what the inside of the forest near David’s home would look like. It wasn’t so bad. But of course, she was not alone, and that made all the difference.
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