Duplicity (9 page)

 She had just wanted to get through this reunion without all the questions about when she was going to settle down and find a man. The way things were going now, her relatives would tar and feather her when she announced that she no longer intended to many their hero.

 A gleam of mischief came into her eyes as she hastily devised a new plan.

She reached across Aunt Fronie's waving fan. "There's no need to save the pie for Dirk." She scooped it onto her plate and leaned over to whisper confidentially into her aunt's ear. "You know how I love doughnuts. Aunt Fronie?" Her aunt nodded solemnly. "Well, the last time we were out together, he ordered half a dozen and didn't give me a single bite. I could have died. He certainly didn't need them. You should have seen him before he lost all that weight."

She tried to keep a straight face as she deliberately added clay feet to everybody's hero.

Aunt Fronie's fan skipped a beat as she digested the news, and Ellen decided that the plan was working beautifully. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner.

She felt her plate being lifted from her hand. "Don't you know all that sugar is bad for your digestion, darling?" Dirk said. He was standing behind her, grinning. He winked at Aunt Fronie. "She's mean as a copperhead snake when her digestion is upset."

As Aunt Fronie's mouth dropped open in disbelief, Dirk circled Ellen's waist with his free hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "How do you prefer your doughnuts? Plain or with icing?"

Ellen didn't bat an eyelash at being found out. She calmly took the pie out of his hand and tried to look crestfallen. "What did I tell you, Aunt Fronie? He's selfish, and a glutton, to boot."

Aunt Fronie's generous mouth drew into a severe line. "I thought you said you had driven in the Grand Preakness."

Dirk controlled his laughter. "I did." He deftly took the pie back from Ellen. "Just looking after your health, my sweet pea."

Ellen snatched it back. "And I'm looking after yours."

Aunt Fronie watched her pie move back and forth between the people she had thought were perfect lovers. She was confused. She knew that only brave men drove racing cars in the Grand Preakness, and she did admire a brave man. She thought racing was even grander than fur coats, or even whales, for that matter. But she hated selfishness.

"I can't abide a stingy man," she announced as she took the pie from Ellen. "There's such a thing as sharing, you know." She bent over the table and picked up a knife.

Ellen put her hand on Aunt Fronie's. "Don't bother to divide that pie. I wouldn't give him a bite if he were on his knees begging."

She emphasized her false anger by glaring up at Dirk. His shoulders were shaking with controlled mirth, and she dug her elbow into his ribs. She was beginning to enjoy this new role of outraged lover.

She looked back at her aunt and tried another pout. She figured that by the time this reunion was over, she would have the pout down to an art. "Didn't you hear him call me a copperhead snake?"

"Did I do that?" Dirk hid his grin by leaning down to nibble her neck. "Let's kiss and make up, honey bunchums."

As his lips touched her skin, shivers went down Ellen's spine. She wasn't supposed to be enjoying her outraged lover role that much.

"Honey-bunchums?" she whispered in his ear as she twisted away. "Don't touch me, you cad," she said for Aunt Fronie's benefit. Leaning over the table, she scooped up the pie. "Go try your charms on that Waylings girl."

Aunt Fronie's mouth tightened even more. A lovers' quarrel was one thing, but another woman was something else altogether. If there was anything she hated more than a stingy man, it was a philandering man.

"Who's the Waylings girl?" she asked.

"Ask Dirk," Ellen said.

By now quite a crowd had gathered at the scene of the fracas. Most of them were only mildly curious, and seeing that it was just a lovers' quarrel, they turned and walked away. Several of the Stanfords, however, loved nothing better than a good brawl. They wouldn't have missed the chocolate-pie incident—as it was later called—if they had been offered a free trip to Las Vegas, which was a mighty fine offer, for these same Stanfords also loved to gamble.

"Yeah, Dirk," a rawboned teenager with pimples said. "You'd better explain about the Waylings woman. We Stanfords don't cotton to anybody messing with the affections of one of our women."

Dirk's arm snaked back around Ellen's waist, and he pulled her close against his chest. "I would lay down my life for this woman," he assured the boy. "I never looked at another woman after I met her. Even burned my black book." He winked. "When she gets upset, she always drags in my former acquaintances. You know how that goes." Burying his lips in Ellen's hair he whispered, "Don't get carried away, darling."

Partly to continue the charade, but mostly to get away from his disturbing embrace, she waved the pie aloft and shouted, "I'll show you 'carried away.' "

Just at that moment Gigi, who had joined the group unnoticed, spotted the pie. She loved chocolate pie even more than she loved potato chips. With a grunt of delight she snatched the pie from Ellen's hand and gobbled it down in two bites.

This was the final straw for Aunt Fronie. A lovers' quarrel was fascinating, but her pie was sacred. Especially her chocolate cream pie.

"Did you see that?" she shouted. "That gorilla ate my pie."

Gigi gave her a chocolate-covered grin and proceeded to lick the bits of meringue off her fingers.

"She loves pie, Aunt Fronie," Ellen said. "Especially your chocolate cream pie."

"But there was only one piece left."

"I know that," Ellen said, trying to sound soothing. She was relieved that Gigi had come along to take the attention away from the lovers' quarrel. She was afraid that she had carried it a bit too far. And now, if Dirk would just take his arm away, everything would return to normal.

"Don't worry, Aunt Fronie," he said. "Ellen and I will eat another dessert."

"But it won't be my pie," Fronie wailed.

Gigi finished cleaning the pie off her fingers and reached over to retrieve a fleck of chocolate that had spattered onto Aunt Fronie's arm. She popped the last morsel into her mouth, then turned a somersault to show her delight.

"Stop that, you big ape," Fronie yelled. "Eating my pie and then showing off."

"Aunt Fronie," Ellen cautioned, but it was too late.

Gigi didn't recognize the spoken words, but she knew the tone of voice. Frqm her seat on the pavilion floor she signed up at Fronie.

"What did she say?" Aunt Fronie asked suspiciously.

The teenager with the pimples laughed. He had learned sign language when his cousin first started bringing Gigi to these reunions. He knew exactly what she had said. "She called you a dirty toilet seat, Auntie."

"Indeed! Well, I think you're a pig." It never occurred to Aunt Fronie, who prided herself on her dignity, that she was exchanging insults with a gorilla.

Her tone of voice again roused Gigi to action. She stuck out her tongue at Aunt Fronie, then defended her actions by signing to Ellen.

"Yes," Ellen signed back as she spoke aloud. "Gigi is a fine animal gorilla."

Everybody laughed except Aunt Fronie. "Humph," she said. "If you ask me, she's a spoiled brat."

"Aw, Aunt Fronie," the teenager said. "You're just mad because you lost the argument."

"Go wash behind your ears, Herbert," Fronie told him. "You always did have dirty ears." With that parting remark. Aunt Fronie held her head high and made a dignified exit.

Gigi spotted a coconut cream pie and quickly lost interest in everything except eating.

"Poor old love," Ellen said as she watched her aunt walk away. "I'm afraid we've ruined her day."

"She’ll get over it," Herbert said as he and the rest of the crowd walked away.

"What about me?" Dirk asked. "I believe you've ruined my reputation."

Ellen laughed. "What reputation?"

He put his hands on her shoulders and slid them slowly down her bare arms. The sensuous abrasion made her catch her breath. "My reputation as a flag-waving citizen and a faithful lover."

"You can let me go now. The show is over."

He lifted one of her hands and planted a long, lingering kiss in her palm. "On the contrary, love. It's just begun." He pulled her roughly to him and tilted up her chin. "We have to kiss and make up, you know. Your relatives expect it."

Before she could protest, his lips descended onto hers, and she found herself being very thoroughly kissed. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that he didn't have to overdo it, and then she was lost in the magic of his embrace.

His lips were hot summer sunshine and mimosa and honeysuckle. The taste of him burned itself into her senses, and she knew that this was not pretend. This was a kind of magic that worked its way into the empty places of her heart and drove away the lonesomes. This was fire and tenderness, desire and sweetness. This was almost like coming home.

Lost, I am lost
. Then he released her. She stood still for a moment, willing her drugged mind to work again.

"You've undone everything," she said quietly. "You were supposed to stay tarnished so I could jilt you with impunity."

"That's okay, love." The unsettling gleam in his eyes belied the lightness of his voice. "We can have another fight."

"And make up again?" She didn't know why she said it. It just popped out.

He smiled. "If you like."

"Of course, I don't like," she said hotly. "I don't like anything about this charade. You're nothing but a bother." It was partially true.

 He was certainly a bother, but not in the way she had said.

"Did you know that your eyes look like green fire when you're upset?"

"Don't try to con me. I'm immune to your charms."

"Are you?" he asked.

She thought his smile was wicked.

"Certainly."

"You don't know how charming I can be on a featherbed."

Her whole body went slack at the thought.

"I don't intend to find out." Lifting her head in an exact imitation of Aunt Fronie, she marched stiffly away. The sound of his laughter floated after her, and she thought it was wicked, too.

She spent the rest of the afternoon indulging in animated conversation with her aunts and cousins, and trying to forget about the maddening impostor who had swept through Lawrence County in the same manner that Sherman had swept through Atlanta. The only difference was that this time nobody had been burned except her.

 o0o

It was over, Ellen thought. The long-awaited family reunion had come and gone, and now there was nothing left except to go back home and plunge into her work. She sat in the kitchen and listened to the drone of voices around her. Aunt Lollie was bringing her daughter Emmaline up to date on the latest happenings in Lawrence County, and Uncle Vester had Dirk and Emmaline's husband cornered, discussing his soybean crop.

Ellen felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Quietly she slipped from the room. She had to be alone.

As she stepped onto the porch she heard the haunting call of a whippoorwill and the distant barking of a dog. She paused, lifting her face to the evening sky and drinking in the beauty of nature, then she sprinted toward the barn.

The heavy barn door creaked on its hinges, and White Fire whinnied in greeting. She patted the stallion's forehead. "Have you missed me?"

The white Arabian stallion tossed his head and snorted with excitement.

"Of course you have," Ellen said as she strapped the saddle onto his broad back. "There's nobody here anymore to ride you the way you should be ridden." She patted his flanks. "Someday I'm going to make a place for you and take you back to Beech Mountain."

She finished saddling the horse and sprang lightly onto his back. The worn leather bridle felt good in her hands as she guided White Fire through the barn door and out into the night. They galloped across the pasture at full speed with the moon and the stars lighting their way. Ellen felt a sense of exhilaration as the wind tossed her hair and the powerful hooves pounded the earth. The family reunion. Dirk, the deception—everything was forgotten except the wild freedom of the ride.

Together they thundered across the night- peaceful land until they came to a small creek on the back forty of Uncle Vester's farm. Ellen slid from the saddle and led White Fire down to the moonlit water for a drink. Then she looped the bridle around the branch of an oak tree and sat down in the crevice of one of its gnarled roots. Leaning her head against the tree trunk, she let her mind wander back over the events of the day, trying to sort her jumbled emotions and make sense of what had happened. Her thoughts circled restlessly, always coming back to Dirk.

She tried to be remote and analytical, to approach Dirk as she would any other scientific problem, but it didn't work that way. There was nothing scientific about the way her pulse hammered and her knees went weak when he touched her. The rush of heat through her body couldn't be measured in a laboratory, and the remembered feel of his kisses refused to become footnotes in an experiment worksheet.