by Lilyan Brock
Nicoli tenderly kissed the tear-filled eyes and wet cheeks, allowing her fingers to wander over the velvety petal-like skin of Sheila’s breast as she murmured comfortingly in her deep voice, “I know, my darling—and you do belong to me… just as much as if I had held you in my arms since the hour of your birth—you’re mine, and I know that you don’t want anyone else or need anyone else to make you happy. There isn’t anything to worry about, baby. Now…”
Sheila’s, arms drew Nicoli down to her, and all of the sadness of the past few minutes was forgotten in the flood of inexpressible delectation that engulfed them.
*
Early the following morning Sheila and Nicoli were reclining on the beach outside their gaily painted cabana. The ocean was placid, and except for an occasional whitecap, extraordinarily tranquil. Overhead, white fleecy clouds drifted lazily in the azure sky. The water had been deliciously refreshing and just chill enough to send the blood tingling through their veins. Later in the day the warm southern sun would be riding high in the heavens and the water would be warm to the body —then one would incline toward drowsiness and the sands would be crowded with devotees of the sun-tan craze. Now it was peaceful, quiet and serene, its very solitude lending it additional beauty.
“Isn’t it glorious?” Nicoli asked from her position on the sand. “I wish I might stay for hours.”
“Well, why not, darling?” Sheila questioned. “After all, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”
Nicoli straightened up and looked at Sheila as she lay outstretched beside her. “But there is! I intend to work. You see, I’ve been thinking that we can leave for New York day after tomorrow if I work all day today—I’m practically finished, anyway.”
Something in Nicoli’s voice caused Sheila to remember the events of the preceding evening. Were they the cause of this sudden decision to leave a few days ahead of time? Blessed Nicoli—always thinking of her—now she was endeavoring to help her out of a difficult situation by taking her away, no doubt fearful of a recurrence of last evening’s happenings. Taking her away even at the sacrifice of her own plans—
“That will be great, Nicoli! I’m anxious to go back to work. It will be perfect with you directing me again. I’ll love it,” Sheila’s fingers brushed Nicoli’s dark hair lightly. “Do you remember our other rehearsals, dearest—how mad we were about each other, how desperately we tried to hide it even from ourselves?”
Before Nicoli could answer, a cheerful voice broke into their thoughts.
“Come on, lazybones—how about a swim? I’ll race you out to the raft.” Paula flung the challenge at Sheila as she stood boyishly, feet apart, looking down at them, her trim young figure clad in brief navy blue shorts and a brilliant red kerchief tied around her upper body for a top piece.
“All right—let’s go!” Sheila sprang up and pulled her cap on hurriedly.
Swimming with masterful strokes, Paula soon outdistanced her companion, and when a moment later Sheila reached the platform, she was sitting perched on its swaying top, laughing gaily at Sheila’s breathlessness as she climbed up and relaxed full length on the warm, damp surface.
“You just can’t take it,” she chided. Then more seriously, “You haven’t forgotten our luncheon date today, have you, Sheila?”
Sheila sat up. “Of course not. Pick me up at one, Paula; I’ll be ready.”
“I really can’t believe that I am actually going to have an afternoon alone with you. It seems that I’ve tried for weeks, but always Derek and the crowd have barged in on us.”
Sheila caught the same peculiar inflection that once before she had noticed in Paula’s voice, and again she asked herself the reason for its presence. Dismissing it from her mind, Sheila jumped up. “Let’s go back, Paula. I want to spend a few minutes with Nicoli before she goes home to write.”
Paula turned her eyes away from the sea. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”
Sheila’s face flushed under the girl’s intent gaze. But quickly she lifted her head and looked levelly at Paula as she answered, “Yes, I am—terribly so.”
With an abrupt “Let’s go,” Paula dived off the float, and with steady rhythmic strokes started for the shore. Confusion crowded Sheila’s thoughts as she slowly followed.
Nicoli watched them as they swam toward her, and a moment later, when Paula emerged, she called gaily, “The winner!”
Paula joined her and dropped to the sand. “Got a cigarette, Nicoli? I need one of those celebrated “lifts’.”
As they sat smoking Sheila joined them, and almost at once Paula flipped her cigarette aside. “I must be off—see you later.”
Nicoli’s eyes followed Paula’s athletic figure down the beach. Mentally she noted the girl’s broad shoulders, her erect carriage, and the decisive tilt of her young head.
“She’s a strange girl,” she mused aloud. “Have you noticed it, darling?”
“Why I—er—no, I haven’t, particularly,” answered Sheila, at the same time wondering why she failed to tell Nicoli of her own impressions.
Conversation lagged, and for a time both lay basking in the warmth of the sun which now had definitely started its upward climb.
An hour later, when Nicoli roused herself and prepared to leave, Sheila surprised her by saying, “I’ll go too—I have to dress.” In answer to Nicoli’s questioning look she added, “I’m having lunch with Paula.”
“Oh!” Nicoli’s exclamation was barely audible.
*
Sheila was standing by an open window when Paula drove up and vigorously sounded the horn. As she turned to go downstairs, she paused for an instant for a final hurried glance at herself in a long glass. The blondness of her hair was accentuated by the blue of the tailored jacket that topped her white sports skirt. Tied about her throat was a white ascot tie, and on one side of her head, set at a saucy angle, was a tiny white beret. Crossing to Nicoli’s door she opened it, but seeing her rapt in her work, closed it quietly.
“Where to, Paula?” Sheila asked as she settled herself in the car.
“I thought we’d drive out to a smart little place I know on the beach for lunch; then we can decide later what we want to do. All right?”
Sheila nodded, and the roadster shot forward.
“Where’s Derek today?”
“I left him at home, Sheila, apparently rather low; looked like a bad case of love to me. He wasn’t flying very high last night. I met him as he came in and had a nightcap with him—and he seemed dreadfully upset.” Then as if a sudden thought had come to her, Paula asked, “Wasn’t he with you last evening?”
“Yes—he was. Oh, Paula, I’m so sorry—truly so—but I had no idea Derek was in love with me. If I had known, I would never have allowed myself to spend so much time with him, even with the crowd. I didn’t realize.”
“I know—but sometimes love comes so stealthily that we are not aware of its presence until it is too late… then—” Paula’s statement was broken by their arrival at the beach club.
As they sat over their lunch, Sheila remarked casually, “We’re leaving day after tomorrow. Nicoli is about finished with the play and our vacation days are over. It’s work for me from now on.”
Paula’s young face clouded. “It will be dreadful with you gone. I’ll miss you so! We’ve had such happy times together, and now what will there be to look forward to?”
“Nonsense! There will be dances and parties a-plenty to keep you more than occupied, and before you know it, you will have completely forgotten there ever was a Sheila Case.”
“But that’s just it—I won’t forget, now or ever.” Paula’s voice dropped to a mere whisper. “You see, I love you.”
Sheila was taken aback by the words that confirmed so thoroughly her recent vague misgivings. What was there to do? What could she say in answer to Paula’s earnest avowal of love? Words would not come, yet she knew she must make some answer quickly.
Finally, “Let’s leave here,” she said. “I want
to tell you something.”
Neither spoke again until the car was parked facing the ocean on a seldom used portion of the road. Sheila put her arm around the boyish figure and drew her close.
“Paula, I want you to know how very much I do care for you, how very dear you are to me—I am only sorry that I can never offer you anything more than friendship.” Sheila hesitated. “You see … there’s Nicoli. Our lives are bound together and have been for years. It will never be any different.”
Throughout Sheila’s conversation Paula had steadfastly gazed ahead at the seemingly endless expanse of open water. Now, as Sheila finished, her lips quivered and large tears flowed from her eyes—tears that she fought stubbornly to keep in check. With a tiny cry she turned, and putting her arms around Sheila’s neck, cried broken-heartedly. Her broken sentences came tumbling out between sobs.
“I knew all along—I was sure—I couldn’t help loving you —I didn’t want to, but I do, so much. Oh, why—why was I made this way—only to be denied the one person I want more than anything? I’ve been so miserable watching Derek with you—seeing him hold you to him as you danced, hearing your laughter; then seeing you with Nicoli—seeing your love for her in your eyes, knowing almost surely that I could never mean anything to you. I can’t stand it—I can’t—I won’t!” Paula continued to cry heartbrokenly.
Sheila pondered what to do, how best to help the girl who clung to her so pitifully. At last she said, “Paula, you think you love me now, yes; but you are only a child compared with me, and soon you will realize that what you felt for me was only fascination. You’re attracted because of my work in the theater—because you have heard my name in connection with shows and Broadway. It is the glitter of it all that appeals, not I. Why, in a few weeks you will have erased me from your thoughts entirely, and once more I’ll be just a name you will see in the theatrical news with no personal meaning whatsoever. This is what you will do—this is what you must do. It can’t be any other way.”
“I’m not a child, and I do love you!” Paula insisted vehemently.
Sheila laughed. “You’re a baby—you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘love’.”
At what apparently was Sheila’s heartless attitude, Paula brushed her tears away, and reaching over, switched on the ignition.
“I might have known you wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t think you would laugh at me.”
Sheila wanted terribly to take the girl in her arms and tell her that she had not really been laughing, but only trying to make her angry so she could forget her more easily—but that would only make the situation more difficult, she knew; therefore she remained silent.
As they drove Sheila noted the defiant tilt of Paula’s chin and the smouldering anger in her eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked at last.
“Derek and some of his friends are going to be over at the Surf Club this afternoon—they should be there now—and I thought it might be the proper time to get beautifully plastered.”
“All right, Paula—let’s go,” Sheila replied. At least the girl’s mind would be occupied with her friends, and thoughts of herself would necessarily be pushed into the background.
Paula swung the roadster into the graveled drive of the exclusive bath club. A trim attendant in spotless livery stepped quickly to the car door and opened it. Sheila stepped out. Paula snatched her bag and gloves from the seat, and with a defiant gesture flung open the door beside her and bounded lightly to the ground.
“Has my brother arrived yet ?” she inquired.
The man smiled courteously. “Mr. Van Pelt and his party are in the bar, Miss Van Pelt.”
Paula nodded. “All right, Jensen; thank you.”
Her voice was brittle when she spoke again. “Come along, Sheila—we’ll find them.” She led the way through the wide doorway.
The Surf Club was a brilliant place, the gay tropical frocks of the women and the bright splashes of the blossoming plants making it a vivid pool of shifting color. In and about the swimming pool was a noisy crowd of girls and youths, and in the club house, gathered at the bar and seated at the scattered tables, were lively groups drinking and laughing, while on the small dance floor couples attired in bathing suits swayed to the music of the stringed orchestra which played in the patio just outside.
As Paula and Sheila entered, Derek rose unsteadily from a table near the door. “Well, look who’s here! Waiter, two more chairs for my table. Come on, Sis—introduce Sheila to the gang.”
There followed good natured acknowledgments and the oft-heard question, “What are you drinking?”
Sheila dropped into the chair Derek had pulled close to his own. There were drinks, laughter, stories of gay escapades, and more drinks—always, it seemed to Sheila, more drinks. Her eyes wandered around the table. How did they—how could they—withstand the strain of the rapid pace at which they lived? Where was it leading them? Where would it take Paula at last? Paula, with seemingly unlimited time and money, and a desire at the moment to drink herself into a state of forgetfulness. What a pity Fate had showered her with so many of the blessings of this world and then had somehow in a moment of cruel jesting burdened her with a soul from a world of twilight and shadows—a world that, despite her money and position, would never lose its tenacious grip upon her sensibilities. Once awakened, as it now was, the persistent voice within her would prod her relentlessly onward in her search for its mate, until all chance for a normal life within her rightful circle would vanish, and somewhere outside the pale of her own social caste she would find at last the elusive something she sought, while standing close beside it demanding payment would be the gaunt, hollow-eyed figure of degradation.
Sheila shuddered and took her eyes abruptly away from Paula’s flashing ones. Yes, she decided, there could be no middle ground for the girl before her. Hers was a reckless nature—the type that in a few brief years would make of her an outcast… twisted clay to be avoided and ostracized by those she now called friends.
The afternoon wore along. Conversation became louder. Derek became more and more garrulous, while Paula sat quietly, following one drink with another.
While the rest were otherwise diverted, Sheila laid her hand on Derek’s arm with “Please, Derek, no more. This isn’t like you.”
Taking her hand in his, he leaned close to her, and in what he thought was a whisper said, “I can’t help it; don’t you see I can’t? I love you too much—please, won’t you tell me you didn’t mean what you said? I want you so—I can’t go on without you!”
Paula’s hysterical laugh claimed the attention of the others as she sprang to her feet, “That’s funny!” she screamed shrilly. “Two fools in the same family! So you can’t go on without her, eh, Derek?” Her voice rose to a higher pitch. “Well, neither can I. Do you hear—neither can I! But we will, because we haven’t either of us a chance. Has she told you why? Has she? Well, I will! She’s in love with—”
Paula’s wild recital was cut short by the resounding slap of Sheila’s hand against her cheek.
Sheila had sat quietly with hands clenched in her lap as Paula’s words tumbled out. Then, as the mention of Nicoli’s name seemed imminent, she had jumped to her feet blind with rage at the thought of her beloved’s name being bandied about in careless drunken conversation, and had slapped Paula. As Paula fell back into her chair, Sheila, white with fury, snatched her bag from the table and hurriedly left.
Nicoli looked up from her writing as Sheila walked in, tossed her hat and bag on the bed, and came toward her.
“Back so soon, Sheila? I rather thought you’d be gone until around seven.”
Sheila forced herself to be casual. “There didn’t seem to be a great deal to do. We had lunch, then drove to the Surf Club and joined Derek and some friends of his.”
Nicoli’s face clouded. Sheila, failing to notice it, went on. “We stayed there a few hours—and then I decided I wanted to come home, so here I am.”
Nicoli rose a
nd took Sheila’s hands in her own. “I’m glad you did. I’ve been so lonesome this afternoon…”
Sheila broke in. “Can’t we stay home tonight, darling— just the two of us? It’s been so long, and I’m so tired of being away from you. Can’t you let your work go just this once for me?”
“There isn’t any work, dearest,” Nicoli announced. “I finished it this afternoon.”
Sheila put her arms around Nicoli, and brushing the top of her head with her lips, exclaimed, “I’m so glad! Now— from now on—I shan’t have to be away from you a minute. Can we start home tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ll order dinner sent in; then we can pack tonight and leave early in the morning. All right?”
“Perfect,” Sheila answered as she turned away and began to disrobe.
After dinner they worked for several hours packing trunks and bags, stripping the rooms of the numerous knickknacks picked up on their trip.
Sheila paused in the act of folding the white sports dress she was preparing to place in the already nearly-filled trunk. “You know, Nicoli, I’ve been so entirely wrapped up in our happiness that I completely forgot to call Jo Trent before we came south. I sent her her check the day we left, but somehow my intention to phone her slipped my mind. I really must do it when we get back—she was good to me, you know, and I’m afraid I’ve appeared most ungrateful.”
“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll soon be home again—then you can call Jo and explain. She’ll understand, I am sure,” Nicoli assured Sheila.
Finally the last bag was closed, and Sheila sank exhausted to the bed. Nicoli turned from the trunk she had been locking, and walking over, dropped down beside her.
“Tired?”
‘Terribly so, darling, but I’m glad to be starting home.” Sheila stifled a yawn. “I don’t mean by that that I haven’t enjoyed every minute of our vacation, because I have—but now I’m anxious to get back and start to work again.”
“I know,” Nicoli replied. “I feel the same way. I can scarcely wait to see how the show will shape up.”