Unashamed, The

by March Hastings

  She nodded. "So?"

  "We came back here after a play one night and..." He hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, she tried to seduce me. I suppose that's the nice way to put it."

  "Oh, Walter, she flirts with everybody," Carolyn said defensively.

  "She wasn't flirting this time, Carolyn. She damned near raped me." His forehead creased reflectively. "Anyhow, she made it pretty clear," he said slowly, "that she considers sex as a sort of convenient tool to get what she wants from anybody."

  He was not saying anything she didn't already know, but Carolyn was nevertheless curious to hear what he had to say. "What do you mean?"

  He ground the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. "Well, for one thing, she told me she didn't want me to think she was 'queer' just because she went to bed with you." He glanced at her and his expression was sympathetic. "She said that she only did it to please you."

  Carolyn flushed angrily. That was precisely the sort of thing Angie would say. "Go on, Walter."

  "Well," he shrugged, "it's obvious what she was out to do, isn't it?"

  She raised her eyebrows. "Is it?"

  "Look, I realized right away that she didn't want me. She can't stand me," he said flatly. "But she was determined, for whatever her reasons, to keep you all to herself. I suppose she thought that if she seduced me, I'd be on her side, so to speak. And therefore no longer a threat to her security."

  "A threat to... Now, wait a minute," Carolyn objected.

  He held up his hand. "Just let me finish," he said. "I wouldn't make an accusation like that without any proof. When I said this to Angie, all she could do was blush. She didn't even try to deny it. But she's hardly spoken to me since.

  You know that. Anyhow, I realized then that you were in for a rough time. Lots of women use sex as a weapon. And Angie's one of them."

  She felt sick inside, not so much because of what he had said about Angie, but because she felt he had failed her as a friend. If he had known all this... "Walter, if you're so damned smart, why didn't you say something?"

  He smiled sadly. "Would it have made any difference, Carolyn? Nobody could tell you about Angie. You know that.

  You had to find out for yourself." He leaned toward her. "Let me take a guess," he said calmly. "You've been naughty and you're being punished. Angie's probably found somebody to flaunt in your face."

  She felt her cheeks burn with rage and shame. She wanted to slap him. But why should she bother? It would only prove his point.

  He watched her closely, his expression blank. "And you," he concluded, "ran out in the rain to find somebody and get even with her."

  What could she say when he was so right? She sighed and covered her face with her hands. "You make it sound pretty stupid," she mumbled.

  He laughed. "Well, isn't it?" Then his face sobered and he took her hand. "Carolyn, do you still believe that Angie loves you?"

  For a moment she hesitated. She was almost afraid to answer, for fear he would laugh in her face. Then she lifted her chin defiantly and glared at him. "I know that she needs me," she said.

  Walter laughed, as she had known he would. "That's not love," he said. "That's greed."

  She felt suddenly as though all the air had gone out of her lungs. She folded herself together, pressing away from him. She could not deny or even argue with anything he had said. But knowing that he was right didn't help a bit.

  Too much of her still belonged to Angie. She knew that much of her always would.

  She heard him move. Then he was close beside her, his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. She did not try to resist, just let herself relax against him, needing the warmth of him to comfort her.

  He tilted her chin up and made her look at him. "What happened last night, Carolyn?"

  She tried to turn her face away.

  He held her tight. "Where did you go?"

  "Downtown."

  "Did you find what you wanted?"

  She tried to twist away from him. He held onto her arms, not hurting her, but insistent. He peered at her relentlessly.

  "Did you?"

  She shook her head.

  He took a deep breath and released her. "I wish you had come to me," he said.

  Startled and completely confused, she sat up and peered at him closely. She realized what the statement implied.

  But she couldn't imagine...

  "Walter?" she said weakly.

  "Never mind," he said, standing. "I'll find some clothes and take you home."

  "Walter..." The word was a wail.

  Walter grinned. "Don't worry," he said. "It wasn't a proposition. I intend to marry you."

  He went off to the bathroom and left her standing there as though he had said nothing more than a simple "good afternoon."

  She had never been proposed to before, but it had certainly been different in the books she had read as a kid. She didn't expect him to get romantic and mushy all of a sudden. They had known each other too long and too well for that. He could have kissed her. The very least he could have done was wait for an answer.

  Curious, almost amused, she trailed after him.

  He stood at the closet, rifling through pairs of summer slacks. Lifting out a pair of faded denims, he turned to face her. "These are tight on me," he said. "They ought to fit pretty well." He held the hanger toward her.

  She did not reach to take it and he laid the slacks on the bed.

  She watched him open a bureau drawer and search for a shirt. His movements were precise, meticulous.

  When he faced her again, she smiled. "Am I to assume that was a proposal?" she said.

  He smiled back and cocked an eyebrow. "You might call it that," he answered.

  "What would you call it?"

  "Well," he said, "actually it was simply a statement of fact."

  She nodded. "That's what I've always liked about you, Walter. You know all the answers."

  He put the shirt on the bed beside the slacks. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said. "There's no rush. Even if you and Angie are finished, as you say, I don't imagine you're ready to get involved immediately. Take your time. Think all you want." He grinned. "But I still intend to marry you."

  She had nothing to say. She had never dreamed that Walter felt that way about her. He had never given any sign.

  He had picked a bad moment to say it. She was still miserable about the man on the barge, still confused and unhappy about Angie. Yet there was something about him now, as always, that comforted her. She did not know if it was love she felt for him. She didn't care. She needed the warmth, the comfort, the assurance he had to give her.

  He came toward her and she half-closed her eyes, waiting, wanting him to take her in his arms.

  When he spoke again, it was from behind her, at the doorway. "Get dressed," he said. "You need some sleep.

  You've had a rough night." He went out and shut the door behind him.

  Walter, she thought, you pick the damndest times to be considerate.

  She sighed then and reached for the shirt.

  CHAPTER 9

  An hour later, Carolyn let herself into the quiet apartment. As she entered the hall, Bridgit scooted out of the bedroom to met her. She stooped to lift the cat and, stroking its ears, tucked it into the crook of her arm. The cat was rigid against her, not purring at all.

  "What's the matter?" she murmured, nuzzling into the soft neck. "Did she fight with you, too?"

  Still holding the cat and trying to soothe it, she wandered into the livingroom.

  On the floor where she had left her, and still naked, was Angie. For just a moment she thought the girl was asleep.

  Then, stepping closer, she saw that the eyes were open and staring.

  "Angie, for God's sake," she said angrily. "Get up and put on some clothes."

  The girl appeared not to hear her. "Angie!"

  Angie, apparently, had found a new game to play.

  Carolyn did not know what the girl was trying to accompli
sh, but she was beginning to get annoyed.

  Sighing, Carolyn set the cat on the couch and squatted down beside the girl. She looked at the empty face and for the first time, realized that the girl was not beautiful at all. There was something cruel and stupid about the mouth and the eyes were much too small. She reached out and touched the girl gently on the shoulder. "Angie," she said,

  "wake up."

  The girl continued to stare.

  Remembering her friend's addiction to sleeping pills and the several attempts at suicide, Carolyn began to panic.

  She grabbed Angie's arm and shook her.

  "Angie, answer me, dammit!"

  "Kill me," Angie droned. "I don't care." Her voice held the echo of a tomb.

  Startled, not sure of what she had heard, Carolyn stared at her. "What?"

  "Kill me," the girl repeated in a deadly whisper. "I want to die."

  Carolyn giggled. "Oh, that's perfect," she said. Too relieved to care how Angie might respond, she began to laugh.

  "That's just perfect."

  She laughed till she fell over backwards onto the rug, gasping, clutching her throat. Bridgit hung over the edge of the couch, watching her.

  When she had gained control of herself, she lay on her back and glanced cautiously at the girl. Angie was sitting up, glaring at her, her fists making dents in her fleshy hips.

  Carolyn felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips but she tried hard to keep a straight face. It would be easier to deal with Angie if she did not antagonize her any further.

  "Just what is so damned funny, may I ask?" Angie said, her eyebrows drawing together into a menacing line.

  Carolyn couldn't resist. She leaned forward and pinched Angie's cheek. "You are, my pet," she said. "What were you supposed to be this time, Angie? Juliet on the altar of love? It wasn't half bad, except that you forgot the candles.

  And the poison."

  She stood up and extended her hand. "Anyway, take a bow, baby. It was a good try."

  "Oh, come off it, Carol," Angie said disgustedly. "You know perfectly well I was serious."

  Carolyn shook her head. "No, Angie. This time you come off it," she said. "I'm through. You should have known that when I walked out on you last night."

  She turned her back on the girl and stalked off to the bedroom. She lay on the bed with her hands clasped behind her head, watching a fly walk across the ceiling. She knew she was in for a battle with Angie but this time she was ready. No matter what the girl tried now, she would be able to laugh. She wasn't sure she could have if it hadn't been for Walter. She had learned to depend on Angie almost for her very life. But that was all over now. She had Walter. He loved her and wanted to marry her. He had offered her a way to get free.

  In less than five minutes Angie was standing at the foot of the bed. Carolyn heard her come in but did not look at her.

  "Carol?" Angie said in a tiny voice.

  "Hmm?"

  "Did you mean it?" She sounded like she had been crying.

  Carolyn ignored the quaver in Angie's voice. She knew that tears came easily to the girl. She lowered her glance to meet Angie's. "Yes," she said evenly. "I meant it, Angie. I'm through."

  "You want me to leave?"

  "Yes. I want you to leave."

  "Now?"

  Carolyn did not flinch. "Right now," she said firmly. "Pack and go."

  Without another word, Angie went to the closet and dragged down the battered blue valise she had brought over with her from England. She spread it open on the floor. Then, carelessly, not bothering to fold, she began dumping shirts and underthings into it.

  She went into the bathroom to dress and when she came back, carried bottles and brushes and tubes which she stuffed in along the edges.

  Watching her, Carolyn frowned uneasily. She knew something must be terribly wrong. Nothing involving Angie could be this simple. She steadied herself, prepared for a sneak attack.

  Angie slammed the lid down and leaned on the valise with one knee.

  Carolyn rolled onto her stomach and shut her eyes. She heard Angie fumbling with the catch on the bag.

  In a moment, Angie would be gone. That's all it ever took, a moment. After six months or sixty years. And then there would be nothing, as there had been before. But it had to be that way. It was best for both of them.

  She heard the squeak of the handle as Angie lifted the valise.

  This is it, she thought. The end. And I'm glad.

  Glad? She felt numb and heavy. There was no joy in her. And in her heart she wished Angie had not been so anxious to leave.

  Even as she realized it, she hated herself for the weakness. She no longer loved the, girl. Still, in a way, she needed her. She felt like a fool, after all they'd been through. And she knew that Walter would disapprove. But she could not deny that it hurt, having the girl leave this way. It was almost as though she didn't care, as though she never had. And Carolyn did not want to believe that.

  Angie stood the case on its spine and approached the bed. "Well, I'm all ready," she said. Her voice lilted pleasantly, as though she were off for a happy vacation. "Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

  "You sure were in a hell of a rush," Carolyn exploded. She rolled over to face the girl. "What's the matter, can't wait to see Jimmy?" She felt sorry for the words before they were out of her mouth. Yet she wanted to hurt Angie, still needed to get back at her. Angie had taught her about getting even and Angie should appreciate her need. But she knew that Angie would not.

  Angie simply looked at her and smiled patiently. "You told me to go," she said.

  "Yes, I did," Carolyn said, sitting up and looking back at Angie defiantly. "And I meant it. But I didn't realize you were in such a hurry to get away from me. Why have you bothered all this time, Angie? Why didn't you take off long ago?"

  Angie shook her head sadly. "I don't know what's the matter with you, Carol," she said quietly. "I love you. You know I wouldn't be leaving now if you hadn't told me to go."

  "Don't hand me that," Carolyn said. "You don't give a damn about me. You never did." She knew she must sound like a fool, yet she couldn't stop the angry words pouring out of her. She hated Angie, yet at the same time she loved her. It was always that way.

  Angie smiled down at her like a tolerant parent at a grimy child.

  "Damn it, don't look at me that way," she said. "If you loved me at all, you wouldn't be sleeping around behind my back." She watched the temper burn in Angie's cheeks and felt a tremor of satisfaction. "You don't fool me, Angie. I know all about you. And as far as I'm concerned, you're nothing but a tramp.'

  "Are you any better?" Angie flared. "Just look at yourself, Carol." She gestured angrily at Carolyn. "You don't even come home in your own clothes."

  Carolyn suddenly had nothing more to say. She had not taken a good look at herself, but she could imagine what a picture she must make with her Up still swollen and wearing an old shirt and pair of slacks of Walter's. She stood up and walked away from the girl. Angie stalked after her relentlessly. "At least you know what I've been doing," she said. "I haven't tried to hide it. But what do I know about you? I've never stayed out all night."

  "All right, all right," Carolyn said. "You've made your point, Angie." She saw the smug smile on Angie's face. "Just go away and let me alone."

  Carolyn leaned her fists on the windowsill and pressed her forehead against the glass. She felt sick of herself and of Angie, tearing at each other, wanting to hurt. Why did it always happen this way? She knew it was not love on Angie's part, perhaps not on her own. It was dependence and self-pity and—what had Walter called it? —greed. Yet giving it all its nasty names did not dispel it. She wanted Angie out of her life. She was tired of the insecurity, the shame. But something inside her still could not let the girl go. Despising herself for her weakness, Carolyn accepted the fact that she was not yet ready to live without the girl. "Angie!" She whirled from the window.

  Angie was right behind her, as though she had bee
n expecting Carolyn to turn. "I'm still here," she said. "I was waiting to say goodbye."

  She could not fathom the expression on Angie's face, but she knew there was a hint of triumph. "I..." she started, then felt flustered and confused. What had she meant to say? She tried again. "I was just wondering where you’ll be staying. In case any mail comes from your family," she added quickly.

  Angie sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well, you know I haven't got much choice," she said. "I've only got about twenty dollars in the bank and I don't want to have to borrow."

  "You mean you're going to Jimmy," Carolyn said flatly. "Do you want to?"

  "Of course not," Angie said. "I told you before I don't really care about Jimmy. The only reason I called him in the first place..."

  "It doesn't matter now," Carolyn interrupted. She hesitated, almost afraid to say what she had in mind. She knew how Angie would interpret it. She wasn't even sure Angie would be wrong. "Angie..." Thoughtfully, she ran her fingers through her hair and looked away from the girl.

  Finally Angie leaned forward to touch her arm. "What is it, Carol?"

  Carolyn glanced at her quickly and then away. "Well, I was just going to say that you could stay here for awhile.

  Just till you got a little money saved. If you can put up with a few changes."

  Angie frowned. "What kind of changes?"

  Nervously, Carolyn rubbed the palm of her hand against her hip bone as though both of them itched. She knew Angie would have a fit, but she had to find out sometime. If she were going to stay, it might as well be now.

  "I have to tell you something," she said abruptly. "Walter asked me to marry him. I haven't given him an answer yet but I know marrying him would be the best thing in the world for me, Angie. I'm going to say yes."

  Angie didn't fly into a temper as she had expected her to. She merely snorted disgustedly. "You laughed when I said you might want to marry Walter."

  "Not quite," she said. "I just said it hadn't occurred to me." She smiled. "Funny, Walter admitted it hadn't occurred to him either until you came along and started monopolizing my time. It's true, we used to be together most of the time, almost like we really were married. We just never made it legal."