Into the Garden

  "No," I said, smiling.

  "We look really good together here. It looks like a scene in a movie. Maybe we'll do it again in a better light so he can get a better picture," he added. "It's no sin to kiss someone you like very much. He's done it, hasn't he?"

  "What?" I said, losing my breath as if someone had punched me in the stomach. Of course, Stuart was talking about something completely different, but still, it took me by surprise.

  "Kissed someone he liked. He liked your mother once and kissed her and I bet he had a girlfriend or two. What is he, a monk or something?"

  "Oh. No," I said. "Hardly that."

  "So that's that. Let's forget about it and enjoy our dinner. At least, I hope you'll enjoy it."

  "I will," I promised.

  "Madame," he said, standing and bowing. "Might I escort you to the dining room?"

  "Thank you," I said, laughing.

  He put a hand on my shoulder as we walked into the dining room. He had set the table and put a candle on it. "Wow," I said. "I guess I was upstairs a long time"

  "Not a minute wasted down here, however," he said.

  "Just take your seat please," he said, pulling out my chair.

  "I should help," I complained.

  "Not tonight," he insisted.

  I sat and he went into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with plates of salad.

  "I found a bottle of wine in your pantry. Is it all right for us to open it?" he asked.

  "Yes, of course," I said.

  I watched him open the bottle and then pour me some. "To the beginning of something wonderful," he said, holding his glass up to mine, "and I don't mean only this dinner?' Our glasses clicked and we both sipped our wine, our eyes locked on each other.

  Truth, I begged, stay outside a while longer. I promise when it's time to call you in, I will.

  15 Truth or Consequences

  Misty didn't call back until Stuart and I had finished dinner and were standing side by side in the kitchen, washing the dishes. He insisted he help with the cleanup.

  "Sorry I didn't call earlier, but I just came home and found your message," Misty said. I could tell by her excitement and how fast she was talking that she didn't want our conversation to last too long. "What's happening?"

  "I have a lot to tell you," I said. "I was right about what I had thought this morning," I said in a softer voice.

  "What was that?" she asked. She sounded as if she was distracted.

  "Are you alone?" I asked.

  "No," she said, following it with a giggle.

  "Me neither," I said.

  "Oh. Who's there?"

  "Stuart," I said, glancing at him. He smiled at me. "Good for you. Star and Jade there, too?"

  "O0000h," she said. "Back in the kitchen?" she teased.

  "Did you hear what I said about this morning?" I snapped at her. "What I told you was true."

  "I forgot what you said this morning. I can't think very well right now anyway. I'm a little occupied," she added. "My mother is out again, which works fine for me."

  Frustrated, I decided to give up on telling her any more at the moment.

  "We're having a meeting late in the morning tomorrow," I said. "Jade wanted me to tell you:'

  "Okay. I'll see you then. Be careful," she added, this time with a more serious tone. "You don't want you know who to know anything about you know whom."

  "Right," I said.

  "I don't know what gave me the idea Chris was shy," she concluded, laughed, and hung up.

  "Everything all right?" Stuart asked

  immediately.

  "Yes. That...was Misty. She's falling in love," I said dryly.

  Stuart laughed.

  "It's in the air," he said, waving the sponge around his head. I laughed, too. It worked like a detergent, washing away all the anxiety.

  When we finished cleaning up, we went to the living room to watch television, but neither of us could find anything we really cared to see. We talked continually over the sound. I complimented him again on the dinner and then, right in the middle of a sentence, he suddenly leaned toward me and kissed me softly on my lips. My unspoken words fell into the pond of warmth that overtook my body. We kissed again, and then he kept his lips close and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger for a moment.

  "Sometimes," he said softly, "when I look at you, I think you're just like a little girl. There's something so innocent and fresh about you, and then I listen to you speak or see the depth of understanding in your eyes and I think you're so much older than you look."

  "Really?" I asked with concern.

  He smiled.

  "It's not something that turns me off, Cathy. It's something that turns me on. You're full of mystery and surprise. You're interesting?'

  "I am?"

  "Yes, you are, very much so. Even your kisses are intriguing," he said. "For example," he said, kissing me and then sitting back and thinking. "That time your kiss was full of wonder. I can almost feel your indecision."

  "Indecision?"

  "Should you kiss me back as hard and as long, or not? You seem to want to, but you're the first to stop, and then ..." He kissed me again, softer and then harder and longer, and I felt my whole body warm and open like a blossom in the sun. "Then," he continued, whispering, "you manage to touch me deeply. Who are you?" he asked, his eyes so close and so fixed on mine, I could barely think. "I want to really know you, Cathy," he continued, "deeply, fully. I hope you feel the same about me. Do you?"

  "Yes," I said quickly.

  "Good." He kissed me again, this time his lips moving off mine and over my chin, down to my neck. I leaned back on the sofa.

  His hand moved up the sides of my body and over my breasts. I felt him undo the top buttons of my blouse and quickly bring his lips to the exposed top of my bosom.

  "Good touching," I heard my father whisper in my ear. I couldn't help but stiffen beneath Stuart's kisses.

  "It's all right, Cathy," Stuart said. "I really like you a lot."

  "Yes," I said. "I like you, too?'

  "Good, good?' His lips were on my bosom again and his fingers undoing another button and another until he was able to separate the sides of my blouse. He lifted me from the back of the sofa gently and brought the sleeves down my arms until my blouse was off. I kept my eyes closed and felt his lips touching me everywhere while his fingers unclipped my bra.

  "It has to be loving and gentle," my father instructed. "No groping like some sex-starved animal. Every touch is full of passion but respect. Like this, see? See the difference?"

  "Yes," I said aloud as Stuart's fingers moved my bra away and he brought his lips to my budding nipples. He took it as my approval, but my mind was reeling through time, remembering, confusing moments from the past with what was happening now.

  "You're wonderful, Cathy," he said. "A promise, fulfilled. Do you like me, really like me?"

  "I do, Stuart."

  "Do you trust me? It's important, Cathy. First, we've got to trust each other. Do you?" he pursued.

  "Yes."

  "Because I'll never disappoint you. I promise," he said.

  "Beware of their promises," my father advised. "It's like pulling on a string and pulling with expectation that something wonderful is at the end, but when it's all there, you find nothing, nothing. I promise to always cherish you, they'll say."

  "We're good together, Cathy," Stuart said. "It's something you can easily tell, you can easily feel. Do you feel it, too, Cathy?"

  "Yes," I said.

  My father's touch always made me feel safe, I thought. When I was little, it was all I had, the only affection I enjoyed. Why shouldn't I have surrendered to it, rushed to it, welcomed it? I can't be blamed, can I? Stop looking at me with those eyes of accusation, Geraldine. Even now, even under the ground, you're looking up at me.

  I turned my head and then my body to avoid any more of Stuart's kisses and caresses.

  "Are you all right'?" he asked.

 
"I don't like doing this in this room," I said.

  "I understand," Stuart said, but instead of retreating as I expected, he slipped his hands and his arms under me and then, as if I didn't weigh anything at all, he stood up with me cradled in his arms like a child.

  "I'm too heavy:' I protested.

  "You're a feather tickling my heart," he said, and kissed me on the ear and the neck as he turned and walked with ease out of the living room. He started up the stairs, steady, strong. My head rested against his chest.

  My father sometimes carried me this way when I was little, I remembered. He'd nuzzle his face in my hair and lick the back of my neck so that it tickled, and then he'd laugh. He did it again when I was older.

  "Remember when I used to do this?" he'd asked me. I couldn't help but giggle. Then he'd moved his tongue down my neck and over what were my emerging breasts at the time, lingering on my nipples. "Good touching," he'd whispered. "See how nice it feels."

  "Which room is yours?" Stuart asked, pausing with me in his arms when we reached the upstairs hallway. I nodded at my door, and he opened it and carried me to my bed. He lowered me softly on to it and then he stood up and took off his shirt. I watched him unzip his pants and slide onto the bed beside me. We kissed, a very long kiss with his tongue touching mine The only light came from the hallway.

  His fingers found the zipper on my skirt and lowered it. Then he sat up and slipped it down. As if every naked part of me was like a magnet to his lips, he kissed me quickly on my stomach and then moved down with kisses until he was at my waist, fingering my panties.

  "Stuart..." I whispered.

  "It's all tight," he said. "I'm a Boy Scout." He leaned over the side of the bed, picked up his pants, dug into his rear pocket to get his wallet and then pulled out the protection.

  I started to shake my head and he put his finger on my lips and I stopped.

  "It's all right:' he said, "especially when two people find something as special as we have. I want you. Don't you want me?"

  "They'll touch you here," my father said, "and you'll lose your ability to think. You'll be on a merrygo-round. Your head will be spinning. Is it spinning now? Is it?"

  "Yes," I said.

  Stuart brought my panties down. In seconds, he was there, naked and hard, pressing forward, his kisses clearing the way. I kept my eyes closed, thinking, what if I can't ever love anyone because of my father? I've got to do this. I've got to love someone. I've got to relax and be unafraid and prove to myself that I can.

  "Cathy, Cathy, Cathy," Stuart was saying. My legs began to relax and then I opened my eyes.

  She was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her face full of disgust as she nodded.

  "I'm dead only a little while and this is what you do," I heard her say. "Disgusting."

  "Close the door," I cried.

  "What?"

  "Please, close the door, Stuart?'

  "But there's no one in the house."

  "Please."

  "Okay, sure," he said, rising. He slipped off the bed. She was still standing there, glaring until he closed the door.

  When he returned, I let my head fall back on the pillow. He was there again, bringing himself to me and then into me. For a moment we both were still, holding onto each other. He kissed my eyes.

  It's different. It's real. It's love, isn't it? I asked myself and then I told myself it was. Good, good, good.

  A steam of "Yes" passed through my lips. Stuart was moaning his pleasure and his promises, but I could hear only my own cries of glee. I can love someone, I thought. I glared into the darkness as we continued to rush toward each other, covering ourselves completely in a blanket of passion. My father's voice was drowned out by my cries of pleasure, and Geraldine's face faded.

  Tonight, I thought, I'll bury you both.

  Stuart and I lay together in my bed for a long time afterward, neither of us willing to end the moment by rising and remembering that there was a tomorrow and we would have to stop touching for a while. Finally, he rose, went to the bathroom and then started to dress.

  "How are you?" he asked. "I didn't hurt your leg or anything, did I?"

  "No," I said, laughing. "I thought I hurt you with my cast."

  "Never felt a thing. To do with your cast that is," he added. "It's getting late. I have to go home," he said regretfully. "Anyone staying over tonight?"

  "I wish I could, but..."

  "It's okay," I said.

  "Maybe I can tomorrow night," he offered. "That is if your mother is still going to be away." He stopped button- ing his shirt and thought a moment. "Did she ever call you today?"

  "I called her," I said quickly. "When I was up here earlier?'

  "Oh. And?"

  "She will be away tomorrow, too," I said.

  "Oh, great. I'll call you in the morning to tell you what time I'll be around, okay?"

  "Okay," I said.

  "I hate leaving you," he said. "Wait a minute. I carried you up here. I'd better go and get your crutches?'

  "I can get around all right without them."

  "No. Don't do anything that might lengthen your recuperation," he warned. "I have plans for us running on the beach someday soon."

  I laughed and he left to get my crutches. I rose and put on my robe. Moments later, he returned with my crutches and I decided to go down to see him leave. He turned at the door.

  "I had a great time," he said. "This was about the best day I had in a long time."

  "Me too."

  "You're sure you're all right?"

  "Yes, I'm fine," I said.

  He kissed me good night and left. I watched him get into his car and pull away. I waved and then looked at the street. It was dark and quiet, but still I sensed I wasn't alone. I stepped back quickly and shut the door, locking it with the safety bolt. Then I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The phone rang just as I got there. I stared at it. It rang again and again.

  Maybe it's Star, I thought. She did say she would try to come over later. I lifted the receiver and said hello.

  "I want to speak to Geraldine," he said. "Why doesn't she ever answer the phone when I call? I called all day. Where is she?" he demanded.

  "You're not supposed to be calling here," I said. "She told me you're not."

  "Put her on."

  My heart was thumping so hard that I started to lose my breath.

  "We know you broke into the house and stole the safe. Why did you take my letters, too? They're mine. I want them back," I demanded.

  "What's that? Someone broke into the house?" he said. I could almost see his smile.

  "I know it was you."

  "Why didn't Geraldine call the police and ask them to question me, huh?" He waited for my answer, but I had none. "What's going on there, Cathy?" he asked with suspicion now dripping off his words. "She wouldn't let you have a boy over there this late. Where is she?"

  "Leave me alone!" I screamed, "or I will call the police."

  "Put her on. I have legal business to discuss. I can call her for that. Go on, ask her."

  Oh, God, I thought looking about helplessly. What do I do? I literally turned around, struggling to come up with some solution.

  "She's not here," I finally told him.

  "Not there? This late? Ridiculous. Where is she? You're lying. Put her on. I'll keep calling," he threatened. "I'll come over there. I have a right to do that. I don't have to break in."

  "She's in the hospital," I blurted. "That's why she didn't call the police. I haven't told her what you did yet."

  "What?" It gave him pause. "What do you mean? Why is she in the hospital?"

  "She had a problem with her heart and the doctor wanted her to stay and be observed for a few days. She told me if you came over here, I was to call the police immediately?'

  "What hospital?"

  "I'm not supposed to tell you. Her doctor doesn't want anyone calling her or visiting. Even I have to limit my visits," I said.

  He was qu
iet a long moment.

  "If she finds out what you're doing in her absence, she'll get even sicker," he said.

  "Leave us alone!" I cried and then hung up and held my breath, waiting to see if he was going to call back. He didn't, but then I thought he might deliver on his threat and come to the house. I went around turning off all the lights and then I sat at the front windows and watched the street and the driveway. I sat there for hours, my eyes closing on their own sometimes. I know I kept drifting off because suddenly I would shudder and awaken.

  He didn't come so I made my way upstairs, and after making sure my door was closed and a chair was up against it, I went to bed. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep, but I tossed and turned all night, waking periodically in a terrible sweat, listening for sounds and then falling back asleep like someone in a coma. By the time morning came, I was more exhausted than I would have been if I had managed to stay up all night, I thought.

  I moved slowly, lethargically, washing, dressing, and going down for some breakfast. I wasn't very hungry and barely nibbled on some toast with my coffee. Stuart called to see how the rest of my night went and if I was all right.

  "I'm just a little tired," I told him, "but otherwise, fine."

  "I can't wait to see you again. I have a few errands to run for my mother and then I'll be over for the whole day and if you want, the whole night. I've already told her I might do that"

  "What did she say?"

  "My mother treats me like an adult now. She just says the motherly things like 'Be careful' and 'Be sure.' I'm both," he insisted.

  How wonderful, I thought, to hear him say that, and how wonderful for him to have a mother who was so caring and understanding.

  "Okay," I said. "I'll see you later."

  Shortly after I ended my conversation with Stuart, Jade, Misty, and Star arrived. Jade had used her limousine to pick them up. Despite the dark storm clouds that loomed over us, they were buoyant and happy, all talking at once about their dates the night before.

  We sat around the table in the kitchen having coffee.

  Misty took out some of the bagels we had in the freezer, toasted them and set them out with jam.