Music in the Night

  my eyes wide open, thinking. What terrible things had

  we done to cause all the nasty gossip about us? We

  were twins, born minutes apart. We had been

  connected in our mother's womb and birth was a great

  separation from each other as well as from her. When

  we were younger, we did cling to each other more

  than most brothers and sisters, even those close in age.

  I couldn't recall a day or a night when we were apart. I

  was sure most of our friends believed that when one

  of them said something to one of us, the other would

  soon know it. They all sensed that there were no

  secrets I would keep from Cary or he from me. He

  just naturally hovered about me, protected me as we

  grew older. Being twins, it took only a glance or a

  look for us to communicate a fear or a happy idea. Perhaps our friends resented this magical

  connection; perhaps they were jealous and that was

  why they wanted to hurt us. It was easy for them to

  turn Cary's devotion to me into something dirty and

  sick.

  And then, a more fearful voice, tiny, hiding in

  the back of my mind, stepped up to say, "Maybe Cary

  was so angry because he realized some of what they said was true.. . . He was too devoted to you. Maybe he realized his own problem and maybe his violence

  was his way of trying to deny it."

  I turned over in bed and buried my face in the

  pillow to shut off that tiny voice and the memories it

  evoked. Memories of strange looks, lingering touches,

  intimate words that were meant for lovers, not

  siblings. I was afraid for Cary, afraid that if I gave this

  tiny voice even an iota of credence, I would avoid

  Cary's eyes, find his touch burning, flee from being

  alone with him. The separation that had begun the day

  we were born would reach its final stage, and soon

  Cary, my poor beloved brother, would be alone. I cried for him, feeling anger and confusion, as

  well as shame. He was still above me, shut up in his

  attic workshop. It was very quiet, but I thought I heard

  him crying. I listened hard, but it was silent again. The

  wind had died down, yet there was still enough of it to

  make the walls creak. Outside, the moon played

  peekaboo with the parting clouds. The surf rose and

  fell against the dark sand, resembling a giant wet hand

  reaching out of the ocean, crawling out onto the sand.

  Night was our respite, the time to put aside the trials

  and torments of the day, to rest our weary bones and

  stuff our troubled thoughts into dark corners and then

  welcome sleep like a long-cherished friend.

  I closed my eyes and prayed and waited for the

  surprise of morning.

  The next day, Daddy and Cary went to work

  right after breakfast and were gone almost all day.

  They were just coming home when Robert pulled in to

  pick me up for our date. Both Daddy and Cary knew I

  was going to Robert's for dinner, but not even Cary

  knew that Robert's parents had left for Boston and

  wouldn't be home until late the next day.

  With all the trouble circling our lives recently, I

  was eager to leave our gloomy house. I felt guilty

  about not telling Daddy and Mommy that Robert's

  parents wouldn't be there, but I knew if I did, Daddy

  would scowl and say he didn't think it would be

  proper.

  Instead I waved good-bye to the both of them

  and got into Robert's car.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  I forced a small smile, took a deep breath, and

  nodded. "Yes, fine," I said.

  Robert squeezed my hand gently and then

  backed out of the driveway. A moment later, we were

  headed toward the inn and our romantic evening. The

  Royces had done a lot of work since I'd visited last, and I could tell as we pulled into the driveway that their work was almost complete. Robert gave me the grand tour, taking me from the sitting room to the office and then showing me some of the guest suites. All of them were beautifully decorated, bright and airy, especially the rooms that looked out at the beach and ocean. With its new paint, flooring, wall covering, fixtures, and furniture, the Sea Marina now ranked up

  there with some of our finest inns.

  "We're advertising in the big newspapers and

  magazines," Robert explained. "Mom and Dad are

  very hopeful."

  "As they should be," I said. "You and your

  parents did a wonderful job, Robert."

  "Thank you."

  Being alone in the refurbished, sparkling new

  inn made us both somewhat nervous. Without

  realizing it, we were being formal and very polite.

  Robert opened doors for me and kept his hand on my

  back as we climbed the stairs. We avoided each

  other's eyes and talked only about the inn, the

  grounds, and the upcoming tourist season. It was

  almost as if we were strangers who had just met. "I guess we should think about dinner. I bought

  everything you told me we'd need," he said, and we headed for the kitchen, where we both worked on the preparations. I had him peel potatoes and heat up pots of water for vegetables while I breaded and sauteed

  flounder fillets.

  Robert had already set the dining room table.

  He had their finest china and silverware laid out, with

  linen napkins and crystal goblets beside them. There

  were tall, white candles in the two candelabra in the

  center of the table. Over the new sound system that

  had been piped into most rooms downstairs, he played

  soft romantic music.

  "Do your parents know all about this, Robert?"

  I asked.

  "Oh sure," he said. "Mom suggested I use our

  nicest stuff. Although, I didn't tell them about this," he

  added and produced a chilled bottle of Portuguese

  wine. "I thought it would be all right. This is a special

  occasion," he added.

  I nodded and went back to our dinner

  preparations. When everything was ready, I told him

  to light the candles and sit at the table. I would bring

  in the meal.

  "Let me help," he said, but I insisted and he

  went into the dining room.

  I brought in the food and Robert poured glasses

  of wine. Shyly we made a toast to the Sea Marina. "May she have a successful maiden voyage,"

  Robert declared.

  We began to eat. Robert raved about

  everything. We laughed, drank more wine, and

  pretended first we were the owners and then the

  guests.

  "This is our honeymoon," he suggested. "Where

  are we from?"

  "New York. No, the Midwest. That way we

  haven't seen the ocean," I followed.

  "And now that we have, we're enchanted." "We don't want to leave. Ever."

  He changed his posture, trying to take on the

  demeanor of an older, stuffy businessman.

  "I'm even thinking of looking for work here.

  Did I tell you, my dear?"

  I imitated Grandma Olivia and looked down my

  nose at him.

  "No, you didn't."

  "I looked at a small beach house yesterday.

  Nothing elaborate, but it has a wonderful view. It

  would be a great place to ra
ise children. They would

  have the world's biggest sandbox," he said.

  "Sandbox? My children won't be permitted to

  dirty their little hands and feet in any old sandbox." We laughed and drank more wine.

  Suddenly, Robert reached across the table and

  put his hand over mine, fixing his warm eyes on me

  and giving me that wonderful winsome smile. "Have I told you how happy I am, how utterly

  complete I feel whenever I'm with you, Laura? It's as

  if the world was created just for you and me. There's

  no one else and all the beauty is ours alone to behold." Whether it was the wine or his words that

  brought an exciting, warm tingle to my stomach, I do

  not know. All I was certain of was that I felt like I was

  overflowing with love for Robert, and I never wanted

  to let go of his hand or this moment. He leaned over to

  kiss me, a short, soft kiss, so tender and gentle, it was

  more like the kiss in a dream.

  "Laura," he said. "How lucky I am to have

  found you."

  "Me, too," I said, barely above a whisper. He held on to my hand and then slowly, ever so

  slowly, he stood up and pulled me with him. Again he

  kissed me. It was the sort of kiss that grew deeper

  with each moment, became more demanding and

  ended only because we were both out of breath. He

  brought his face to mine and let his lips glide over my cheek and to my ear where he nibbled gently and then

  whispered, "Shall we go to our room, darling?" Our room! The thought of it was both thrilling

  and frightening at the same time. My heart began

  beating frantically as Robert led me from the dining

  room to the stairway and to a suite that looked over

  the beach and the sea.

  Entering the room, we were both so nervous we

  couldn't speak. Standing in front of me, Robert

  unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, dropping it on the

  chair. My fingers, as if they had minds of their own,

  went to my blouse and, though trembling, undid each

  button. Slowly, I took off my blouse and let it drop

  beside Robert's shirt on the chair. He smiled and

  stepped forward to kiss me, his hands moving behind

  my back to undo my bra.

  My heart pounded.

  Robert undid his pants and sat on the bed to

  take off his shoes and socks. I watched him with eyes

  wide as he removed his pants and folded them over

  the back of the chair.

  The wind made the curtains dance and the

  ocean outside roared against the beach, but all I really

  heard was the thumping of my own heart.

  I unzipped my skirt, slipped it down my legs and placed it over Robert's pants. Then I took off my sandals and he rose to embrace me. We kissed again, and again it was a long, demanding kiss that took our

  breath away.

  "Laura," he whispered.

  I didn't look down, but I felt him move his

  hands to his waist. I kept my eyes closed as he

  stepped out of his briefs and then gently lowered my

  panties. I stepped out of them as if I were stepping

  gingerly into a warm bath.

  For a long moment, we didn't touch, we didn't

  move. It was as if we had brought each other to the

  brink, to the cliff from which we could never turn

  back once we stepped forward.

  "You're the most beautiful woman in the world,

  Laura. I love you so much, my heart aches." Wave after wave of warnings drifted over me,

  but my body was tingling and the voices of restraint

  were dying under the rush of desire. I threw all

  caution aside and made the eventful step forward.

  Suddenly Robert's hands were on my hips and his lips

  were pressed to mine, our bodies touching.

  Everywhere. And yet, we still couldn't get enough of

  each other. Our legs had to rub against each other, our

  stomachs, chests. Our hands had to stroke all over until we were clinging to each other like two people

  holding on for dear life.

  Before we knew it, we were in bed, our heads

  comfortably resting against the fluffy pillows, our

  bodies entwined under the cool sheets.

  "Don't worry," Robert whispered. "I'm

  prepared."

  I closed my eyes and drifted, my head spinning

  as I waited. Moments later, I felt his lips on my

  stomach. He worked his way up, between my breasts,

  over them and then to my mouth as he moved

  gracefully between my legs.

  "Robert," I said weakly, almost too weakly for

  him to hear.

  "This really is our honeymoon," he said before

  we joined.

  I moaned, I-cried, I grasped his hair so hard I

  was sure he was in pain, but he didn't resist or

  complain. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks and

  when he felt them, he kissed them away. When it was

  over, we lay there, still entwined, both of us breathing

  hard.

  Then I gazed down and saw the blood on the

  bed sheet. "Oh no, look," I said.

  "Don't worry. I'll take care of that." He started to smile. I pulled away from him, spinning around and

  pressing my face to the pillow.

  "Laura," he said, pressing his palm to my back.

  "I love you, Laura."

  I felt like I had fallen back to earth, like I had

  been traveling on a cloud, and suddenly, it turned gray

  and somber and began to rain down on the Sea

  Marina, releasing me along with the raindrops. My

  heart was still pounding, but my mind was clearing,

  the thoughts rushing in like water that had found an

  opening.

  We had done it; I had gone too far; I had lost

  control. Or had I simply wanted it as much as Robert?

  Was it a sin to want it? Was all that Daddy taught and

  preached true, and would he take one look at me and

  read the sin in my eyes? Would it break his heart? I thought about Cary, too: about his distrust of

  all the boys who looked at me or spoke to me.

  Nothing would convince him that this was good and

  pure and beautiful. He would say I had simply

  become someone's little trophy.

  "Laura, what's wrong?" Robert asked softly. "I don't know what came over me. Why. . how .

  ."

  "Laura, we didn't do anything wrong. We love

  each other. Don't start feeling guilty."

  "Why shouldn't I feel guilty, Robert?" I

  snapped and got up to gather my clothes. "This is

  exactly what everyone would have thought would

  happen if I came here and spent the evening with you

  alone. Every accusing eye and word, every sneer--" "But we didn't do anything wrong. We love

  each other, want each other."

  "I drank too much wine," I said, flailing about

  for an excuse.

  "You don't mean that, Laura. You don't mean

  the only reason you made love to me like you did was

  because you got drunk." Robert lay there, looking at

  me with such pain in his eyes.

  "I don't know what I mean," I wailed. "I just

  feel like we went too far, that we ruined something

  true and pure." "That's foolish."

  "It's not foolish to me, Robert!" I cried. "Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean you
were foolish, but you

  know in your heart, this was what you wanted, too." "That's just it. Maybe did, but maybe I was

  wrong to want it."

  "You weren't wrong," he insisted.

  "That's something boys usually say," I shot

  back. "Not this boy. I say what's true and good for us.

  I don't find myself in bed with every girl I meet and I

  don't fall in love with every girl I meet, but I fell in

  love with you." put on my sandals and looked at him. "I'd better go home," I said.

  "Laura--"

  "Please, Robert. I just want to go home." "You're punishing yourself unfairly," he said,

  rising. He started to dress.

  "I'll go down and clean up while you dress," I

  said. "You better do something about the bed sheet,

  too."

  "It's all right. I can do it later."

  I left anyway and hurried down the stairs. I was

  already clearing the table when he caught up with me.

  He seized my wrist.

  "I said I'd do that, Laura. Stop this. Stop

  punishing yourself."

  I tried to swallow, but couldn't. I just stood

  there, nodding softly. He embraced me and held me,

  stroking my hair.

  "Laura, Laura, Laura," he sang. "If I thought I

  made you unhappy . ."

  "I'm all right," I said, straightening. "Just take

  me home. I'll feel better after I get some sleep." "That's right. Things always look better in the

  morning, don't they?"

  "Not always," I said prophetically. I looked

  back at the dining room table. Our dinner had been so

  beautiful, so dream-like. Then why was I so confused,

  so twisted with mixed feelings?

  All the way home, Robert cajoled, pleaded,

  begged me not to think poorly of him or myself. He

  repeated his love for me and swore he would go to the

  ends of the earth to follow me if he had to. He said he

  would rather walk on fire than hurt me in any way

  ever.

  I tried to talk, but all my words got jumbled and

  stuck in my throat. All I did was look out the window

  at the dark ocean and the crashing waves. I didn't

  understand my own feelings. How could I explain

  them to him?

  "Give me some time," I told him when we

  arrived at my house.

  Sadly, he nodded.

  "I was hoping this would be a special night . . ." "It was," I said. I kissed him quickly on the

  cheek and ran to the front door. I didn't turn back to

  wave. I went inside and up to my room before anyone could see my face. Then I went to the bathroom and threw cold water on my cheeks. "Laura? Is that you,