Diann Ducharme

by The Outer Banks House (v5)

  —ROBINSON CRUSOE

  I SHOULD HAVE FELT GUILTY ABOUT SNEAKING OUT OF THE HOUSE. I should have felt remorseful about spending time with Ben. But nothing felt wrong in the least.

  I missed tutoring Ben, but the nights on Roanoke Island made up for the lack of daylight with him. If anything, I had grown to like teaching more since I had been going to the schoolhouse.

  But the work was exhausting, and the Sunday afternoon by the ocean was hot and buzzing with insects. I put my feet up on the porch railing and closed my eyes. After dozing a while, I heard some awkward splashing nearby. I opened my eyes a bit, and to my surprise I saw a herd of Banker ponies meandering along the shore. They walked knee-deep in the surf to ease the sting of the flies that swarmed their legs.

  The stallion was imposing and almost all black, except for a white splotch in the shape of a handprint on his chest. He kept a close watch on his mares, who weren’t doing much except enjoying the feel of the water splashing on their legs.

  In their midst I saw the little red horse, and I was so excited to see her again that I walked down the porch steps into the sand. I gave a little whistle, and all of the horses raised their heads to find the source of the sound. I watched as she left the group and plodded through the surf toward me. The stallion let her go, and I smiled, thinking that she likely wasn’t a member of the harem at all.

  She came up to me without fear and snuffed at my empty hands. “I don’t have any treats for you. But I know how much you prefer cordgrass.”

  She lifted her head to nuzzle my face. She smelled powerfully of ocean water on horsehair. I ran my hands over her smoothed-up coat and scratched behind her ears.

  “So you charm wild horses, too. Is there anything you won’t do?”

  It was Hector’s crisp voice, cutting through the lazy air. I turned around to see him, too well dressed in a dark gray suit and black vest and holding his black top hat. His black shoes were half visible beneath the sand.

  His voice had sounded sarcastic, but I saw that he was amused.

  With great difficulty, I arranged my face into a smile. “Good afternoon. You surprise me, calling on me in such an informal location. It isn’t like you.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “I do apologize. I thought you, of all women, would appreciate the lack of decorum in my visit.”

  I laughed shallowly and wrapped my arms around my chest. “You seem a bit overdressed for the occasion, if I may say so. Beachcombers don’t usually feel the need of a top hat.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps my choice of ensemble would seem overdone, if one did not suspect the reason of the visit.”

  My smile collapsed. Of course, Hector had come with a distinct purpose in mind. I doubted sincerely that he had ventured onto the beach during his entire month on the island.

  He held out his arm for me, a perfect ninety-degree angle to his body. “Let’s promenade.”

  As we strolled slowly down the beach, my head pulsed in panic. I couldn’t say a word for fear of encouraging him to reveal the purpose of his visit. But thankfully, Hector seemed preoccupied with the sand in his shoes, and practically let out a yelp when the surf threatened his feet.

  After a few minutes of self-conscious trudging, though, he seemed to remember himself. He stopped walking and let go of my arm. “It’s time to face the facts, Abigail. The summer is almost at an end, and your family will be returning to Edenton.”

  I felt small and helpless, like a crab that has lost its hole in the sand.

  He continued, “Although what you will be returning to in Edenton is far from ideal. Your father’s plantation is struggling mightily, as I’m sure you know. He may not be able to keep it. And I’m not sure what will become of you and your family if you lose your land.”

  I turned my head away from him to see the red horse continuing on her way through the surf. I watched her hindquarters jealously. “We’re not going to lose the plantation. Daddy has been working hard this summer to avoid that. He says we are going to have a bountiful crop this year.”

  He patronized, “But who will harvest it? You? Charlie and Martha? Who will pay the sky-high taxes on the land? The whole of Edenton knows your father’s situation by now. He is no longer the planter king, I’m sorry to say.” The facts, as Hector presented them, sounded as fearful as a rocky cliff. I felt tears begin to prick my eyes, but he kept on talking. “And you are of marrying age. You aren’t a little girl anymore. And it’s time for you to take yourself, and your family’s situation, more seriously.”

  He took my hand in his strangely cool one and gazed at me. He said softly, “I have always considered you to be the most beautiful girl in Edenton. In fact, I have had trouble finding any women that rival you, even in the Northeast. You are splendidly radiant.”

  The tears spilled down my cheeks, and I swiped at them with my free hand. I couldn’t stop myself from trembling.

  He got down on one knee, slowly, arthritically, and still gripping my hand. He looked up at me. “Abigail, I would be honored if you would consent to become my wife.”

  I stared at him, at his too-soft lips that many women would die to kiss, and wished powerfully for the sand to swallow me whole. I couldn’t speak for fear of sobbing.

  He smiled, apparently thinking I was emotional with happiness. “I’ll wait until you can answer me with words.”

  I wrenched my hand away from his covetous grip and covered my tear-stained face with my hands. I said through clenched teeth, “I can’t marry you, Hector.”

  He got off his knee abruptly, his eyes bulging with fury and his hands twitching, as if he wanted to hurt me with them.

  “Who do you think you are? You will have no more marriage proposals, Abigail!” he raged. “You are too unconventional—quite peculiar, if you want to know the truth. And no one will want such a wayward woman, with no family estate! Your parents have spoiled you with too much leniency. The tutoring of Benjamin Whimble! Failure to chaperone you! And this cottage by the sea! It’s the most ludicrous structure I’ve ever seen! I believe your parents have quite lost their minds!” He was spitting, he was so angry. “You WILL marry me, Abigail. There is no question about that. Your parents will insist. Even they know the state of things, you can be sure. I am to be a doctor soon! A refusal would be madness.”

  The angrier Hector became, the calmer I grew. “Why would you want to marry someone who doesn’t want you?”

  He sniffed grandly. “Of course you want me. Giving me the mitten is just another one of your silly charades, to keep me interested in you.”

  “As a matter of fact, I hardly know you well enough to say that I want you. And you don’t know me. From everything you’ve said today, I’d think you would find those proper Northeast beauties satisfactory enough. I’d have thought you’d have run for Yankee territory weeks ago.”

  He frowned. “I know you well enough, I think. I know you like lilies, horses, sand dunes, and chocolate cake …”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “But you don’t really know me, know what makes me happy or sad, or thrills me or scares me. I will never understand the desire to spend your life with a person you don’t even really know. It seems like a great, pointless waste of time.”

  He stared at me uncomprehendingly. “I’m sorry to bring you to reality, but that is what marriage is, in the end. It is no parade, no vacation at the beach, for heaven’s sake.”

  I shook my head. “It’s what I want, Hector. Perhaps I am too unconventional for you.”

  He reached down for his top hat and placed it carefully on his head. “I plan to call on you only once more, but back in Edenton. This god-awful place has mottled your brain. Perhaps back at home, surrounded by sadness and ruin, you’ll reconsider your answer.”

  Then he stumped back up the shore, cursing the sand with every step. I watched him go until his top hat was a very small black smudge.

  The night air in the room hardly moved at all, although the windows were wide open. Th
e bed linens were damp and stuck to my skin, making it itch. Even with my nightgown hitched up to my thighs, I felt pressed down, uncomfortable.

  I was doomed now, for sure. When Mama and Daddy heard that I had refused a proposal of marriage from Hector, I would likely be disowned and cast out of the house. I thought of myself wandering the beaches of the Outer Banks, with scraggly hair covering my naked breasts, shucking oysters and milking cows for my sustenance.

  I turned my head on the pillow, my hair sticking to my neck in the heat. Charlie’s and Martha’s sleeping faces were flushed, their cheeks slick with spit. At least they slept well here, in Nags Head.

  I thought of what it might feel like to submerge my body in the cool, quiet depths of the Fresh Ponds, to forget the whole world for a few moments and let my body drift and sink amid thousands of years of rain water.

  I stroked the insides of my thighs, savoring the imaginary feel of the water groping along the curves. And I saw Ben’s face, felt his strong arms helping me through the water. Just settling my mind on the essence of him made my breath quicken and my calves tingle. And I knew what it was that I now wanted.

  I wanted Ben to teach me how to swim.

  The next evening, Ben agreed that I needed to learn how to swim in a depth of water deeper than a bathing tub, so the following morning I climbed the steps to the warm upstairs bedroom, where Mama was curled into a hump under the bed linens.

  “I’m off to the Fresh Ponds with Maddie and the rest. I’ll return for supper.”

  Her voice came out muffled. “And will Hector accompany you?”

  “I believe so, yes,” I lied.

  She unfurled herself and turned to me, and poking her head out of the covers, she actually smiled, a slight blurring of her scarlet lips. “I imagine he’ll be proposing to you soon, Abigail. Wear your best dress today. That skirt and shirtwaist aren’t appropriate at all.”

  I looked down at my old brown skirt and the white shirtwaist that I thought would be perfect for a quick walk in the woods before swimming.

  “All right, then.”

  She just lay calmly in bed, watching me. It didn’t feel quite right, leaving her up here all by herself.

  I asked, “Do you want any other books to read? I’ve got plenty downstairs.”

  She reached for the Bible beside her. “Oh, no. This is the only book I need now.”

  I nodded, thinking she already must have read it hundreds of times through this summer. Before I left, I walked to her and kissed her lightly on her warm cheek, trying to imagine the spurned daughter of immigrants buried deep inside her.

  I went to my bedroom to change into one of my best day dresses, a pale pink, short-sleeved cotton and silk piece with little embroidered rosettes along the hem. I forgot the corset and hoop, though, so the dress didn’t look quite right. But I hardly cared. I tied a bonnet onto my head and left for the Fresh Ponds, carrying a basket with my heavy flannel bathing costume and some corn bread, apples, and a canteen of water.

  The cool woods were empty of visitors so early in the morning. Without the incessant chatter of human voices, the air was still and clean. The towering greenery made its own kind of noise, a vibrating hum that was felt and not heard. Great cumulus clouds roamed the skies, occasionally blocking out the sun.

  In the reflection of Great Pond, I saw myself, my red hair and pink dress garish next to the serene greens and blues around me. As I stood looking into the clear water, I heard Ben crack through the leaves that had fallen dry onto the sand. His brown face appeared beside mine in the pond.

  “Where’s the parade?” he joked, grabbing a handful of skirt.

  Hector’s proposal lingered unknown in the air between us like a bad odor, so I hurriedly removed the bathing costume from the basket and looked around for a place to change my clothing. I walked over to a nearby cedar tree, but its circumference was too thin to hide me completely. “Turn your back.”

  “Can’t I just close my eyes? You don’t trust me not to look?” he said playfully.

  “No, I don’t. It’ll only take a minute.”

  He turned away from me. “All righty, then. Let me know if you need any help.”

  I first removed my shoes and stockings. Then I unfastened the closures along the back and slid the sleeves down. With some awkwardness amid the branches and leaves, I stepped out of the heavy dress and draped it over a low branch. Then I slid my chemise over my head, baring my breasts. Finally I unfastened my pantalettes and, with some hesitation, bunched them down to my ankles and stepped out of them.

  And there I stood, naked for any passerby to see. I felt the cool air caress my buttocks and tease the hair between my legs.

  With one eye on Ben’s back, I stepped into the gray Turkish pants. Then I pulled my arms through the sleeves of the paletot and buttoned it up the front. The entire costume hung on me like a blanket.

  “Okay. What do you think?” I said, holding out the material of the dress on either side of me.

  He turned around to look at me. Then he started laughing until the tears pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t even speak.

  “I’m so glad that I amuse you,” I said, a blush washing over my face.

  He doubled over, clutching his midsection. “I’m sorry, Abby, I really am. But how in tarnation do you expect to learn how to swim wearing all that cloth?”

  I sighed and looked down at the hideous thing whose fibers made every inch of my skin itch. I hated everything about it. “I suppose I could just wear my underthings.”

  He straightened up quickly, all the laughter gone. “Okay by me.”

  So I retreated back behind the skinny cedar tree. I changed out of the bathing costume and put on the chemise and pantalettes again. Then I loosened my hair and tucked the pins into the basket.

  When he turned to me and saw my bare arms and calves and hair hanging down my back, he breathed in audibly and looked away.

  He said, “Much better.”

  Then he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, and I could see his muscular brown chest and thick shoulders and arms, so real in these quiet woods. He started walking to the edge of the pond in his frayed trousers. He held out a hand for me, and I took it with tension stiffening my fingers.

  “Don’t be afraid, Abby. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said. He looked into my eyes, steadily, without blinking, and I knew it was true.

  We waded into the cool water, so that the surface skimmed the skin around my knees, and then he stopped me. “All right. Now I have to put my arms around you. We’ll go where it’s just a little deeper.”

  I nodded, and he came close to me and put his hands around my middle. His flexing hands almost spanned the entire girth of my body. His arms moved with assurance, with knowledge of water.

  He drew me out into the pond a few more yards, where my feet couldn’t touch the leafy bottom. My legs dangled in the open water. I kicked them a little, enjoying the way the water reached all the way up my flanks.

  My chest was now submerged up to my neck. My chemise floated around my breasts, and my pantalettes twisted around my thighs.

  Ben’s arms pulled me out lengthwise, so that I was floating on my back, arms and legs stretched out in the water. I felt my hair sway heavily next to my face, weighing my head down. His forearms held me under my back.

  “You can open your eyes, you know,” Ben said.

  I unscrewed my eyes and saw his face. He was gazing at me with such love, I felt my throat squeeze.

  I said softly, “You’re a good person, Ben.”

  His face hardened. “There are things about me that you wouldn’t care to know.”

  I laughed. I just knew that Ben didn’t have a bad bone in his body. I said, “I wouldn’t want you to be too perfect.”

  I closed my eyes again, listening to the sounds of the woods with under-water ears. I felt Ben’s hand move to hold my thigh, his other hand still holding my back. His palm wound up through the leg of the pantalette, so that his hand r
ested on my bare skin. He rubbed the wet flesh with his thumb.

  I breathed in deeply of the woody air, a smell of life. I just floated with a mix of dark and light playing over my lids.

  Then I felt his mouth on the nipple of my breast, through the cloth of the chemise. He sucked it gently, while his hand moved even farther up my leg. My breath quickened as if I were hurrying somewhere, but all was fluid and stillness. He took his mouth away and the air cooled my nipple into a pebbly peak. He rubbed it softly with a thumb.

  Ben took his other hand from beneath my back, and just like that I was floating on my own. I smiled, my eyes still closed.

  He whispered, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Abby.”

  I felt a little drop of water fall on my face then, and I looked up half expecting to see Ben crying. But the clouds through the arch of trees were gray with rain. The drops fell on my face and chest and pattered about us on the water. With the sun gone, the water began to cool.

  He took my hands again and pulled me up. “Hold your breath, now. We’re going under.”

  We both took deep breaths and went under the gray water. I could now feel the leaves and twigs on the bottom of the pond. I could taste their little souls in the freshwater.

  I forced myself to open my eyes. I saw Ben’s face through the murkiness, and he was smiling at me, little bubbles traveling from his nose to the surface. The raindrops speckled the water above us, and I felt so safe, under the world above. I never would have thought it possible, before Ben. He held my hands tightly.

  We came up for air, and my head dripped water down my back and chest. Ben’s clean face was chiseled stone. And still the rain came down, a gentle shower.

  He let my hands go then and said, “Just be still. Feel your body in the water. Move your arms and legs around just a little, and keep your head up.”

  He demonstrated treading water, and he made it look so easy. I kept my eyes on his face as I fought down the fear. But the feeling of being alone in the water was too tempting.