When You Dance With The Devil

by Gwynne Forster

  Fannie said the grace and added. “We have a full house now, thank the good Lord. I want you all to meet Jolene Tilman, who joined us yesterday. I neglected to introduce her last night at supper, and I apologize. This gentleman is Richard Peterson. He came to us all the way from Europe. Switzerland, I believe. Welcome both of you. Now, let’s eat.”

  “No place left for me to sit but right here with you, Richard,” Fannie said, “so you can read your newspaper later upstairs when you don’t have anybody to talk to. These people may not have been to Europe and seen the world, but they’re good folks, and if you let yourself get to know ’em, you’ll like ’em and you may even learn something.”

  He had hoped not to have a dinner partner, but he suspected that he’d drawn the least disagreeable one. “Give me time to find my way here,” he said, trying to keep the harshness out of his tone. “I’m a careful man.”

  “Maybe. Just make sure you don’t look down on anybody. You can’t look at a person and tell what he’s like inside.”

  Marilyn appeared at the table, saving him the need for a response. “How’s your chowder, Richard? You want some cornbread to go with it? My cornbread’s so good it walks all by itself.”

  “I’ll bet it does. The chowder is wonderful. I’ll take the cornbread next time since I’ve just about finished this.” He loved cornbread and he wanted it with the rest of his chowder, but he didn’t want Marilyn in his hair, and he could see that she was primed for it.

  When the cook left the table, he said to Fannie, seeking her estimation of the woman, “She’s a nice person, very motherly.”

  Fannie’s laugh startled him. “Motherly? Marilyn? That woman doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. Biggest hussy that ever walked. She’s tried every man in here, except Judd, and I can see that you’re next.”

  “Thanks for warning me.”

  “What you planning to do with your time? You can’t spend all of it on the beach, ’less you want to look like a lobster. The school could use you. The library, too. You look like a person with a lot of good experience.”

  A person with good experience. What the hell! He had signed his letter to her with his title, executive director. Didn’t she know what that was, for heaven’s sake? “I’m hoping to find the peace and quiet I need in which to write my memoirs, and this seems like the perfect place.”

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and pulled air through her front teeth. “Humph. So you planning to spend your time on yourself and with yourself. That has never brought anybody anything. You get something when you give something. I don’t eat dessert. Enjoy yours.”

  She left the table, but her words stayed with him. For as long as he could remember, he had focused on himself, what he wanted, and how he’d get it. But when he finally reached the pinnacle, his trophy ran like water through his fingers, and only then had he realized what was really important to him. Too late. Much too late.

  Encumbered by the weight of his past indiscretions, he climbed the stairs as if he had gained a ton since ambling down those same steps an hour earlier. He took out his cell phone and placed it on his night table. If he could only talk with her just once! He’d promised himself that he would never do it, but he opened the cell phone to call her and then slumped on the bed. It didn’t work in that remote area. Thank God. He’d almost done the unpardonable, and he prayed he would never again be tempted.

  Jolene could hardly hear her own voice when she slipped into her seat at supper that evening and said, “Hi,” hoping that Joe and the woman on the other side of her, whose name she didn’t know, would hear her. Neither responded, but she’d done her duty, and she contented herself with that fact. Still, with everyone around her telling tales in a jocular manner, she couldn’t help feeling excluded. Alone. At least when mama’s voice had sounded from the rafters, it was meant for her to hear and respond to. A woman across the table reached for the salt, and Jolene hastened to get it and hand it to her, and when she saw that only three squares of cornbread were left on the plate, she passed the plate to her neighbors hoping that they would respond in some way.

  “I already had my share,” Joe said. “Take one for yourself, or maybe Louvenia over there wants one.”

  “Sure is good,” Louvenia said. “You know I cooked for years, Joe, but I can’t say mine were any better than these. Marilyn knows what she’s doing.”

  “She does that,” he replied.

  Jolene had a sense of defeat. Her gesture had sparked conversation, but it wasn’t directed to her. Maybe she should take a course of some kind. As soon as she ate the last crumb of her apple pie, she said, “Excuse me,” and got up from the table. She wasn’t sure that Joe or Louvenia heard her.

  “What a waste!” Jolene thought she heard Louvenia say. “Youth is wasted on women like that one.”

  As she started to walk away, Joe said, “Look, babe, when we leave the table, we push in our chair, so whoever passes won’t stumble over it.”

  Mortified at having received another reprimand and angry at herself for provoking it, she stared down at him. “No . . . you look.” She sucked in her breath. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was a custom. Good night.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s just the way I talk. Don’t let nothing get to ya, babe. Life’s too short. Good night.”

  “Good night,” she repeated, loud enough for all those present to hear her. She got upstairs to her room as quickly as she could and stood for a long time at the window, staring out at the eerie shadows in the park that faced her. The next morning after breakfast, she received another surprise when Fannie asked whether she was planning to look for a job and whether she wanted any help.

  “You ought to look for a church, too. I’ll be glad to take you along to mine. People there will be glad to receive you. You and Richard need to learn how to get along with people. They’re not gonna eat you. It’s people who make your life good. I know just the person for you to meet.”

  “Who?” Maybe she would make a friend, someone who cared about her.

  Fannie looked down at the floor. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five. Why?”

  “Come to church with me Sunday, and we’ll let the Lord take it from there.”

  Chapter Two

  Jolene wasn’t anxious to go to church, not Fannie’s or anyone else’s. Before her mama became ill, she was in Mount Zion Church every time the doors opened, with her mama giving praise and testifying. But to Jolene’s way of thinking, a more unrighteous woman probably had never been conceived. However, she needed a friend, any friend to whom she could feel close. At least she thought that was what she needed. The empty void inside of her was a new experience, or maybe it had always been there, and she’d been so harassed, so put upon that she hadn’t had time for self-reflection. So, the following Sunday morning, she dressed in her gray and white, short-sleeved seersucker suit and went with Fannie to eleven o’clock service at Disciples Baptist Church on Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, a twenty-minute walk from the boarding house.

  “I’d ask Rodger to drive us,” Fannie explained when Jolene wanted to know how much farther they had to walk, “but this is his Sunday off. Anyway, it isn’t much farther. Besides, Rodger’s a good man, who can’t seem to say no, not even in his own defense. I’m careful not to take advantage of him.”

  At the end of the long service, Fannie’s friends crowded around them, welcoming Jolene and asking her to come to the church regularly. So profuse was their welcome that Jolene began to wonder if Fannie had programmed them. Just as she began to tire of the smile she’d placed on her face and of the hugs and handshakes, Fannie pulled her from the group.

  “Gregory, this is Jolene who I’ve been telling you about. She’s just come to Thank the Lord Boarding House, and she’s such a joy to be around. Like cool, fresh air on a hot sticky day. Jolene Tilman, Gregory Hicks is one of our most faithful members, and we’re very proud of him.”

  Jolene gazed at the man, tall enough—abou
t five feet, eleven inches—and nice looking. Her mama didn’t trust light skinned men, but she remembered that Emma Tilman didn’t trust any man, and forgave Gregory Hicks for his fair skin.

  When Hicks extended his hand, Jolene took it, but mainly because she didn’t want Fannie to lecture her about her manners. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Hicks,” she said.

  “I’m certainly glad to meet you. Miss Fannie didn’t tell me how pretty you are. I hope I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

  When Fannie’s fist dug into her back, Jolene recovered her presence of mind and said, “That would be nice.” She didn’t think she was supposed to wilt just because a man smiled.

  Gregory’s eyes glistened as would a child’s at the sight of a new toy. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call you tomorrow evening after supper time. It would be my pleasure to show you our little town and maybe take you over to Ocean Pines.”

  “Thank you,” Jolene said. “So far, I haven’t seen any of the place.” Her interest quickened when it occurred to her that he could give her some pointers on getting a job and making a place for herself in the community. “I’ll look to hear from you,” she said, glanced at Fannie and saw that the woman wore her approval the way a prince displays his crown.

  “Hmm. Looks like I’m pleasing all three of us,” Jolene said to herself.

  “You’re smarter than I thought you were,” Fannie said as they walked back home. “Gregory’s a good catch. He’s got a good job over in Ocean Pines, doesn’t run around with a lot of loose women, and he saves his money. He’s also a Christian. You won’t find better anywhere around here.”

  It surprised her that Fannie assumed she was looking for a man. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. She wanted a job and some friends or companions that, from her earliest memory, her mother had denied her. And she wanted to be rid of that awful feeling deep in her gut that if she died, nobody would care. She wasn’t averse to male company, but she didn’t know how to act with a man. Mama said all they wanted was to empty themselves into you and leave you with the consequences. She wasn’t sure mama was right; if she was, why did so many women attach themselves to a man?

  Besides, her mama had never said one good thing about men. Indeed, she even refused to tell Jolene who her daddy was, claiming that she hated him so much that she refused to mention his name. It seemed to Jolene that she had a right to know. After her mama died, she went through all of her personal papers, but could find nothing that revealed her father’s identity. As her mind pondered her mother’s reasons, she accidentally bit the flesh on the inside of her right jaw and, not for the first time, knew the taste of her own blood. It occurred to her that not many people disliked their mothers, as she had and still did, and that she had had her distaste for Emma since childhood.

  She’s dead, and I’m still not free of her.

  “You’re mighty quiet,” Fannie said as they neared the boarding house.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just thinking back about things.”

  That evening, Fannie called up to Jolene with the news that Gregory wanted to speak with her on the telephone. Shock reverberated from Jolene’s scalp to the ends of her toes. She hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon. Mindful of Fannie’s strict house rules, she threw off her robe, donned an old house dress that she had worn during her mama’s illness and raced down the stairs.

  “Hello. This is Jolene.” She hated that she sounded breathless and that he would know she ran to take his call.

  “This is Gregory. There’s an old movie about Dr. King showing at that movie house on Ocean Road near you. Would you like to go tomorrow evening about eight thirty? Supper ought to be over by then.”

  “Uh . . . yes. Thanks.” As soon as she agreed, she had an attack of nerves, for she had no idea how to deal with a man. If mama was facing her eternal judgment, she had a lot to account for.

  “Good. I’ll be at Miss Fannie’s place for you at eight o’clock sharp.”

  She hung up and turned to see Fannie standing nearby, folding and unfolding her hands. “He’s coming here for you, isn’t he?”

  Jolene nodded and fled up the stairs. Shaken. She had agreed to go out with a man. A date. The first date she’d ever had. If the behavior of the church women was any measure, her date was a man who appealed to females. He certainly looked good to her, especially his big, grayish-brown eyes with their long, silky lashes. She guessed she was doing all right.

  “I’ve been looking for a nice girl,” Gregory said to Jolene, taking her hand as they left the movie theater, “and I’d like us to be friends.”

  Jolene let him hold her hand, because his grip gave her a warm, comfortable feeling. “I’d like it, too. Right now, I have to get a job.”

  “I’m a phone company supervisor over in Ocean Pines, but I hope that’s temporary. It’s my intention to manufacture sails. If you want to make money around here, you have to do something connected with water, and I’ve noticed that no one anywhere near here makes or repairs sails.”

  “Do you know how to make them?” she asked, her interest piqued.

  “Sure.” He seemed to dismiss the question as trite. “If you need a lift from time to time, I’ll be glad to help during the weekends. Other days, I’m working till four-thirty.”

  Jolene thought for a minute. There was something he could help her with. A telephone company supervisor would be a trusted person. “I’m going to have trouble getting a job, because all I’ve done the past ten years is take care of my sick mother and grandmother, and I don’t know anybody here except Fannie.” She held her breath as she waited for his response and let it out slowly when a smile floated over his face.

  “After all the good things Miss Fannie said about you, I can certainly give you a character reference.” He wrote something on a card and handed it to her. “When you apply for a job, tell them to call Gregory Hicks.”

  “I sure do thank you, Gregory.” If he worked at the phone company, maybe he could get her a phone.

  “It’s getting warm enough to swim,” he said as they approached the boarding house. “We could go swimming Saturday afternoon, if you’re not busy.”

  Her feeling of inadequacy was never far from her consciousness, and it returned with alacrity. She stopped walking, withdrew her hand from his and looked at him. “Gregory, I don’t swim. My mama always saw to it that I didn’t have a free moment for any kind of recreation. I can’t even dance.”

  He took her hand again and started up the stone steps. “I’m going to enjoy teaching you to do both.”

  They entered the foyer, and he took a pad from his pocket, wrote his home and cell phone numbers on it, tore off the page, and handed it to her. “Here are my numbers, in case you need me for something.”

  This was her chance. “You shouldn’t call me too often because the phone is down here in the hall, and Fannie or somebody has to call me to come downstairs.” She hoped he’d take the hint, but he said nothing, kissed her on the cheek and left.

  Gregory headed down the street to where he’d parked his white Ford Taurus. Invigorated. Wondering if his ship was about to dock. One look at Jolene Tilman and he’d fallen hard. It hadn’t made sense, so he’d called immediately and asked for a date in order to test the attraction. Now, he knew. It was there, and it was solid. He wanted her: A woman who was simple, reserved, maybe even shy, plainly dressed but with large brown eyes that seemed to reflect the wisdom and secrets of the ages. Yes, and pain, too. Even as he acknowledged his introduction to her, he had imagined himself nestled in her arms, sucking at her pretty breasts and then losing himself inside of her. But he was in no hurry for that. He had learned the hard way not to let his penis lead him. Leaning against the shiny-white Taurus, his long El Greco-like silhouette spanning the width of Ocean Road, he made up his mind to have Jolene for himself. Maybe not permanently, but for as long as he wanted her.

  Around three o’clock the following Saturday afternoon, he arrived at Thank the Lord Boarding House prepared to swim. “We’re going to
start in the pool,” he told Jolene, referring to the public pool in the park that faced the boarding house. He hoped she’d wear a scanty bikini, but he doubted that she would. Still, the one-piece suit she wore allowed him to see enough of her high, firm breasts and rounded hips to whet his appetite.

  “You have to trust me,” he told her.

  Her glance might have withered a weaker man. “If I didn’t, do you think I’d be standing here in water up to my waist and nobody nearby to keep me from drowning but you?”

  “Hardly. Would you mind smiling? I haven’t seen you do it yet.”

  A startled expression slipped over her face and then, in a grudging way, her face creased into a smile. He looked away. I’ll be damned if I’ll make a fool of myself over her.

  “We’ll start with the breast stroke. It’s easier than the crawl, or at least, it was for me.”

  After an hour, he suggested that they dress and go for a ride. “Unless you have something else you’d like to do.”

  “Not a thing. Thanks for the lesson. How’d I do?”

  “You did well, but don’t try it alone.”

  “Oh, I won’t. I’ll wait till you’re free again.”

  They dried themselves in the warm sunshine, dressed and got into his car. “With this, you won’t have any trouble getting my calls.” He handed her a cellular phone. “I’ve already set it up for you, and I wrote the phone number on the box.”

  Her eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath when both of her arms reached for his neck. Quickly, he held her away from him. Plenty of time for that when he was ready.

  “Thanks so much, Gregory. I didn’t see how I could have afforded to put a phone in my room. This is the perfect solution.” She cradled the phone to her breasts. “Gee, thanks.”

  His frown lingered on his face for he thought he detected a note of triumph in her voice, and then he shook his head as if that would discard the notion. He might have imagined it, but just in case he hadn’t, he’d be careful.