looked disappointed and once again dropped his gaze to his plate. "But first, I promised May I would do
some homework with her," I added.
Aunt Sara smiled. "That's nice of you, dear. I'm
sure May appreciates it."
She signed to her and May signed back,
expressing her enthusiasm. I went upstairs with her
and worked with her on her reading and speaking
exercises. At a quarter to eight, though, I had to leave.
I explained that she would probably be asleep when I
returned, so I kissed her goodnight.
Cary had gone up to the attic. I heard him
moving about while I worked with May, but now he
was quiet, still. I found a blue cardigan sweater to
wear over Laura's yellow dress. It was a little over
sixty degrees outside, but the sky was clear with a
three-quarter moon that put a bone-white glow over
the sand.
"Don't be too late, dear," Aunt Sara called from
the living room when I headed for the front door. "I won't," I promised. My heart was pounding,
both from the excitement and from guilt. I hated lying
to her, but there was no doubt in my mind what her
and Uncle Jacob's reactions would have been if they
had known I was planning to meet a boy on the beach. They have no right to restrict me, I told myself. This family, especially, has no right to tell me what I should and shouldn't do. Never before did I feel as much on my own, as much in control of my own destiny. Mommy had deserted me, lied to me, ignored my feelings and my needs. She knowingly left me with people who looked down on us. She had left me to fend for myself. And that's just what I would do, I
told myself.
All my life I had believed in being honest. I
believed in the ultimate goodness of people, only to
find out that my own parents had deceived me. Who
did I have but myself? I thought. Driven by my rage
as much as I was drawn by Adam Jackson's magical
eyes, I bounced quickly down the steps and walked
away from the house. I looked back once. I thought a
curtain in an upstairs window moved, but other than
that, there was no sign of anyone watching, so I
veered left onto the beach and plodded through the
sand. I quickly discovered it was easier to walk with
my shoes off. The sand, still holding on to the day's
sunlight, felt warmer than the air.
As I drew closer to the ocean, I saw the moon
walk on the water and heard the roar of the surf. The
water looked inky, mysterious and the stars on the
horizon blazed with a brightness that filled my heart with even more excitement. In moments I was far enough out on the beach to sense the solitude. The Logans' house was lit up, but looked toy-like and distant after another few minutes of my walking away
from it.
I went up and down the hilly terrain. At the top
of the dune, I gazed toward the place on the beach I
had been when Adam had first found me. I saw the
glittering flames of a small bonfire and my heart
thumped. Would he be surprised to see that I'd
actually come, I wondered. I was surprised, myself. When I drew closer, I saw his motorboat
anchored on the beach and heard music from his
radio. He was sprawled on the blanket, his hands
behind his head, and he was gazing up at the sky. He
wore a white polo shirt and a pair of white shorts. He
was barefoot. If he heard me approach, he didn't show
it. I stood beside him for a moment before he slowly
turned, his face glimmering in the moonlight with that
polished smile. He sat up.
"I'm glad you came," he said. "It's a great night.
It would have been a shame for you to miss it." He
patted the space beside him on the blanket. "Did you
have any trouble getting out?"
"No," I said. "I dug a tunnel."
He laughed. "Great. So?" he said after a
moment, "Are you just going to stand there? You
didn't come all this way to watch me lie on a beach
blanket, did you?" he asked.
"Maybe. Don't forget my uncle and aunt don't
allow television in their house."
He threw back his head and roared with
laughter. Then he grew serious and gestured for me to
come to him. "It's very cozy on this blanket." I lowered myself to my knees and put my shoes
down before sitting on the blanket, close to the edge. He stared with a quizzical look on his face and
then he shook his head, still smiling. "Aren't you the
tease?" he said. "All right, I'll play hard to get, too."
He lay back on his hands to look up at the sky. "I'm not a tease."
"Of course you are. All girls are."
"Well, it's not true about me."
He turned over and braced his chin on his hand
to gaze at me. "Really? Well, why do you work so
hard at being beautiful if not to have boys look at you
longingly?"
"I don't work so hard at being beautiful." "I imagine you don't," he said nodding. "You
are what I would call a natural beauty. That's why all the cats in school are clawing at you. So," he said, sitting up again, "tell me about your life in
coalmineville. Leave a boyfriend crying in his beer
when you came to the Cape?"
"I'll bet. Well, his loss is my gain." He
snickered. "Come a little closer. I won't bite," he said.
"You want me to beg? Is that it?" he asked when I
didn't move.
"I don't want you to beg, no."
"So?"
I shifted on the blanket until I was beside him. "Now that's better. At least I can smell your
hair." He put his nose to my head and then kissed my
forehead. "And I can look into those terrific eyes. You
know you turn me into jelly, don't you?"
This time, I had to laugh. "Don't you mean
cranberry sauce?" I asked.
That brought a wide smile to his face. His blue
eyes seemed to sizzle as they blazed down at me.
"You're smart as well as beautiful. A rare jewel." He
kissed me on the lips, but I was so tense I thought he
would hear my nerves twang.
He gazed at me with a curious smile, then he
leaned over to his right where he had a cloth bag. He
produced a bottle of vodka and two glasses. Then he dipped his hand into the bag and came up with a jar of cranberry juice. "How'd you know I had cranberry
juice? Some little bird at school whisper in your ear?" "I didn't know."
"It's a great drink with vodka. My father's
favorite. Let me fix us a couple."
"I don't like drinking whiskey," I said quickly. "This isn't whiskey. It's vodka. Doesn't stink on
your breath as much, and when you cut it with the
cranberry juice, you hardly notice it. But it sure makes
you feel good. I'm sure you've had it, right?" "Of course," I said, even though I never had.
All I had ever tasted was Mommy's gin and I never
could understand how or why she liked it so much. After he made the drinks and handed me my
glass, he tuned the radio to a station that played softer
music.
"Let's make a toast," he said tapping his glass
against mine. "To us. To good times and good
weather forever."
I took a sip. He was right. It didn't taste as bad
as Mommy's gin.
/>
"So where did you used to go at night with your
boyfriends in West Virginia: old coal mines?" "Sometimes," I said, even though the very thought of going into a coal mine at night was terrifying. I didn't want him to think I wasn't as
experienced or as sophisticated as the girls here. He brought his glass to his lips and urged me to
bring mine to my lips. "Keeps you warm inside," he
promised. I drank some more. "Was the sky as
beautiful at night in West Virginia?"
"Yes."
,,But you didn't have the ocean. The ocean
makes the sky look better, doesn't it?" He moved
closer, putting his arm around my waist. I looked at
the sky where it merged with the horizon. The water
was glimmering and the stars did seem brighter than
ever, some actually twinkling on the water. He
nudged my cheek with his nose and kissed me softly
on the neck.
A flow of warmth rushed down over my
shoulders to my breasts. Nervous, I drank some more.
Then I pulled a little away from him.
"I like this song," I said. "Don't you?" "What? Oh, yeah." He reached for the bottle of
vodka and refilled my glass. "Feels good, right?" "Yes."
"Let's see, this time we'll toast to . . the end of
school. May it come quickly and put me out of pain." He clinked my glass again. "Quick, drink or we won't get our wish," he urged. I took a long sip and thought
this time the vodka was a lot stronger.
"I thought you were a good studious--I mean
student," I said.
He laughed. "I do all right. Adam Jackson does
just enough to make his father happy with his grades,"
he bragged.
"Isn't your father a lawyer'?" I asked him. "Yeah, but don't worry. I won't sue you if we
don't have a good time tonight."
"Do you want to be a lawyer?" I asked quickly
as he leaned over to kiss me.
"Maybe. I don't know. My father wants me to
be." He brushed his lips against mine and then turned
abruptly and lowered his head to my lap so he could
look up at me. "You look great from down here," he
said. He reached up and fingered the buttons on my
cardigan sweater. I put my hand over his. "You're not
cold, are you?"
"A little," I said.
"Take another drink. Go on," he urged. "You
won't be cold long."
I did and he smiled. His finger undid one button
and then another.
"You looked great in this dress today," he said.
"Like a fresh flower. I was jealous at the way some of
my friends were looking at you."
His finger traced the valley between my breasts.
Then he lifted himself slowly, reached behind my
neck, and gently brought me down to meet his lips. It
was like a kiss in the movies, his lips pressing against
mine, his tongue moving between my lips, the music
around us, the stars above us. I felt warm all over. My
mind reeled. He took my glass of vodka and cranberry
juice from me, urged me down to the blanket, and
then turned so he was lying face down over me. "I just knew you and I would click," he said.
"How did you know?"
"Adam Jackson knows women."
"You talk about yourself as if you were
someone else." I giggled. "I never heard anyone do
that."
"Simple explanation," he said, shrugging, "I'm
bigger than one person."
He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me long
and hard, his right hand moving over my ribs to my
breasts.
"You are delicious," he said. My pulse was
racing. I looked past him at the stars and they seemed to blur and merge. He kissed my neck, then lowered himself so he could move his tongue under my collar, toward my breasts. I felt him lift me gently and find the zipper behind my dress. I started to resist, but the zipper flew down and he quickly nudged my dress
over my shoulders, driving his mouth to my breasts. It was as if I were on a magic carpet and not
just a beach blanket. It seemed to lift both of us off the
sand and begin to turn in a counter-clockwise circle.
He had the straps of my bra down and was
manipulating the hook with surgical expertise. It
popped and his hand moved up under the garment
instantly, lifting it away. Before the air could touch
my naked bosom, his lips were there, nudging,
strumming my nipples.
I felt a weakness in my legs as his legs moved
in between and forced mine to separate. It was
happening so fast--the blinking, out-of-focus stars
were falling like a downpour of diamonds around us,
the blanket was spinning, his hand was under the skirt
of my dress and his fingers were toying with my
panties. The roar of the ocean covered my small
protests and he was saying, "You're perfect. I knew
we would be great together,"
But this wasn't romantic and lovely. This frenzy of passion frightened me more than it excited me. Too
fast, I thought. It's happening too fast.
I pushed at his chest and shook my head, but he
smothered my exclamation with his lips, jabbing his
tongue harder into my mouth. I nearly gagged, and
when he pulled back I screamed. "Stop it!"
"What?" he cried. "You wanted this, didn't you?
Otherwise, why would you come here? Just relax. Lie
back and enjoy Adam Jackson."
My arms were too small and weak to hold back
the weight of his upper body. I started to cry as he
lifted me easily and began to slip my panties down my
thighs. I was shaking my head and pleading. I could
hear his heavy, hard breathing and I tried to turn my
mouth from his, but he seemed to have grown in size.
I saw him in the same distorted way I saw the stars.
He resembled a great jellyfish spreading over me,
encompassing me.
"Please . . . stop!" I pleaded.
He pulled his head up to look down at me
disdainfully.
"You are a tease," he said, "and Adam Jackson
is not to be teased."
I thought I would pass out beneath him. My
eyes rolled, my mind went dark for a moment, and then, suddenly I felt him rise off me, his head going back first and then his lower body lifting. I opened my eyes to see Cary pulling him away, clutching his hair, and grasping his right arm. He jerked him so hard he
fell back on the sand.
"Get off her!" he cried.
Adam turned over on the beach quickly and got
to his feet. I sat up, my stomach gurgling. The two
boys faced each other. Cary's hands were clenched
into small mallets. With his shoulders hoisted like a
hawk, he stepped toward Adam.
"Come on," he said. "Let's see how you protect
that precious handsome face of yours."
"Get out of here!" Adam whined. "She wanted
it," he said pointing at me. "She came here, didn't
she?"
Cary gazed at the bottle of vodka on the
blanket.
"You got her drunk, you bastard. You took
advantage of her."
Cary lunged at him and Adam jumped back. "You're crazy!" he cried. "Your whole family's
crazy, including her!" He backed away. "I'm not going
t
o fight over her." He continued to back toward his
boat. Cary stood glaring at him. Then he turned, reached down for the bottle of vodka, and heaved it in Adam's direction. The bottle smashed against the side
of the boat and splattered.
"You're out of your mind! You'll be sorry,"
Adam threatened, but he pushed his boat away from
the shore and quickly jumped into it when Cary
threatened to come after him. "This isn't the end of
this. You'll hear from me!" he screamed.
"Sue me!" Cary retorted, his hands on his hips. Adam started his engine and turned the boat
away. A moment later he was bouncing over the
water, fleeing.
I turned over on my left side and buried my
face in the blanket. I felt Cary kneel down and touch
my shoulder.
"You all right, Melody?" he asked softly. "No," I said. I felt sick and embarrassed and
suddenly very, very tired.
"Come on. I'll help you home," he said. "I don't want to go home. That's not my home!"
I cried. "I don't have a home!"
"Sure you do. You're with us until your mother
comes back."
"I don't care if she ever comes back." "Sure you do."
"Stop saying sure I do. You don't know what I
want. None of you know or care."
"I care," he insisted. "Come on," he urged. He
started to zip up the back of my dress. "You'll feel
better after you walk a while."
"I'll never feel better. I don't want to feel better.
Just leave me here on the beach and let the water
come in and pull me out to sea. I'd rather drown." He laughed. "Come on. You're just a little
drunk."
"I am not drunk," I said and spun around, only
when I did, the whole world spun with me and kept
spinning. I moaned and fell into his arms. The
gurgling in my stomach turned into a volcano and it
began to erupt. He held me as I heaved. All the vodka
I had drunk on top of a relatively empty stomach
came up like molten lava. It burned its way up my
throat and poured out of my mouth. The pain of
heaving doubled me over. If it had not been for Cary
holding me, I was sure I would have fallen face
forward into the sand.
Finally, it stopped. I took deep breaths, gasping
for clean air.
"You all right now?"
I was feeling better after getting rid of the
vodka. I nodded and he lowered me to the blanket. "Just rest a moment," he said.
I took shorter breaths, the heaviness in my chest