Girls' Dormitory (13 page)

"Damn you," he was saying as he pulled her up out of the hole. "I told you to stay away from the shore."

"Jerry—"

"Shut up and help yourself onto the ice. What do you think I am, anyway?"

She smiled up at him, briefly.

"I think you're wonderful," she said huskily.

And she meant it. In that instant she meant it more than she had ever meant anything in her life before.

"Dumb women," Jerry said when she was on the ice, standing there and shivering. "Show me something dumber than a woman, will you?"

She tried to keep her teeth still but she couldn't.

"You can't," she said. "Not dumber than this woman."

His right arm was soaked all the way to the shoulder but he didn't seem to notice it.

"We've got to get you dry," he said. That was the one thing she wanted more than anything else.

"There's a heater in the car."

He shook his head. "You'd have pneumonia before that thing did any good." He turned and looked down the lake. "There's a cabin over there, back of the trees. If I remember correctly there was a big fireplace inside and plenty of wood."

"You've been there?"

"A few times."

"With friends?"

"With a girl from the West End."

She didn't know why but she wanted to hurt him.

"Was she nice?"

He swung around and a hint of anger crept into his eyes.

"She thought she was," he said.

"And you didn't?"

He kicked a lump of snow aside.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Well?"

"There are a couple of things I can tell you about that cabin. The key is hidden under the front porch and there aren't any sheets or blankets in the place."

"You would know about that, wouldn't you?"

"Naturally."

"Naturally. What else?"

"That's what I like about us," he said. "We fight like hell."

The wind came down the lake, blowing harder, and her teeth started to chatter again. "I'm cold," she said tightly.

"Well, you're the one who's waiting, not me." They started down the lake, walking rapidly.

"I thought you were going to drown," he said once.

"So did I."

When they reached the woods he glanced back. "Wouldn't you know it?" he said. "I get a bite and I can't even take care of the tip-up." She wondered if he really cared.

In a few minutes Jerry had a fire going and she began to feel the warmth of the flames against her hands and face.

"The clothes won't dry on you," Jerry said. "I'll have to find a rope and we'll have to hang them in front of the fire."

She took off her coat and handed it to him. "Not just that," he said. "Everything."

"What?"

He grinned and poked at the fire.

"Well, not everything. Just about.”

"You can put on my coat if you're so damned modest."

"Of course, I'm modest."

He shrugged and unbuttoned his coat. "You wouldn't be the first girl I saw in bra and panties," he said.

"Or nothing."

"That's right. Or nothing."

She didn't want to undress but she knew that she had no choice. Even with the heat from the fire her body was cold.

"I'll wait in the kitchen," Jerry said. "You hustle out of those things so we can get them dry and get out of here." He paused in the doorway. "I always heard that if you wanted to go fishing you should leave the women home. I think I heard right."

She smiled, waited until he had gone, and then began to undress. Yes, he was rough in some ways but he was gentle, too. He was, she decided, a strange man, a very strange man.

She remembered some of the things the other girls said about Jerry and she wondered if they were the truth.

"The best," Evelyn Carter had proclaimed. "Once you have Jerry you never want another man."

"Or need another man," somebody else had added.

Peggy took off everything, down to bra and panties, and then she stood in front of the fire. Lord, but the heat felt good! She turned slowly around to let the fire dry her.

"You ready?"

She picked up Jerry's coat and put it on. "I'm ready."

He came in from the kitchen, carrying two glasses and a piece of rope.

"Our lives are complete," he said. "A clothesline and a couple of shots of good brandy."

"I don't drink," she said, feeling almost naked in his short coat. The coat came down to her hips, barely covering them, and below that her legs were naked and straight. "You know I don't drink."

He held out one of the glasses.

"It isn't a question of drinking," he said. "It's a question of getting you warm. The fire helps on the outside and this does the job on the inside."

"No."

"You think I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you?"

"Maybe."

"One drink wouldn't make you drunk."

"No, but it can make you feel funny if you aren't used to drinking."

"Don't be silly. A doctor would tell you the same thing. There is rye out there and I could have given you that but brandy is better. And if I wanted to take advantage of you I wouldn't have to use any booze to help me. We're out here in the country, all alone, and you wouldn't have a chance if that was what I had in mind."

"That would be rape," Peggy said.

"It would be your word against mine."

"Would it?"

"You came here with me," he said, still holding the glass. "A lot of people know that you did. Weren't they kidding you at breakfast about going fishing with me?"

"Well, yes."

"All right, there you are. What more do you need?"

A chill swept through her and she began to shake.

"Get my clothes dry," she said.

"After you take the drink."

"No."

He threw the rope on the floor.

"Don't be so silly and stubborn," Jerry said. "I never saw a dame with such crazy notions. You stand there half-frozen and you don't want to do anything about it."

Another chill seized her and this time it went down into her stomach, lying there like a ball of ice. She held up her hands and they were shaking. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need something.

"Okay," she said.

"That's better." He seemed relieved. "Old Doc Jerry will get you fixed up yet." Her eyes met his, steadily.

"I hope you don't mean that the way it sounds."

"I don't."

She accepted the glass and lifted it to her mouth. Her hands were still shaking and some of the liquid spilled down her chin.

"I guess I do need it," she said.

"I guess you do."

The brandy had a funny taste and it burned her throat. She could feel the warmth of it going down to her stomach, chasing out the cold. The brandy had an almost instant effect; the glow seemed to spread through her blood.

"Boy, that's strong!" she exclaimed.

"You need it strong."

The top button on the coat had come open and she closed that again. But Jerry was not watching her. He was busy stringing up the line and hanging up her clothes.

"It shouldn't take too long," he said.

"How long?"

"Maybe an hour."

"Or more?"

"Or more."

He pulled the davenport over and they sat down. The movement made the coat pull up and nearly all of her thighs were exposed. She crossed her legs but that forced the coat up higher, and she uncrossed them.

"We fight a lot," he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Yes, we do."

"I wonder why that is? I never fight with girls much."

"Maybe most of them do what you want them to do. Maybe that's why."

"Maybe."

The fire was hot and steam began to rise from her wet clothes. She was aware that he was staring at her bare legs, especially at the spot where the coat parted at the bottom, and she began to feel uncomfortable.

"You had a close call," he said.

"Yes."

"For a few minutes I thought you were all through with this life."

"So did I," she agreed, trembling a little as she remembered.

"You cold?"

"No."

"Still scared?"

"Something like that."

He stood up and moved toward the kitchen. "You need another drink, that's what you need."

"No."

But she didn't protest beyond that. She was too tired and it didn't seem very important, anyway. It was warm in the cabin, she was safe, and what more did she want?

That was a laugh. There was plenty that she wanted. She wanted to be normal—the one thing that had gone through her mind when she had been there under that ice —and she didn't know what to do. She just didn't know.

"Here."

She took the drink. "Luck," Jerry said, sitting down. She lifted her glass, the way people were supposed to lift glasses.

"Luck. But I don't really need it. I've had my share for one day."

The brandy tasted better this time, didn't burn so much, and when she had finished drinking it she thought her face must be flushed. She was warm all over, burning up, and her mouth was dry.

"You hot?" he wanted to know.

"Plenty."

"You'd better unbutton the coat."

She would not unbutton the coat. To unbutton the coat was to have hardly anything on. And she was alone with him, alone in this cabin. The brandy had done something to her, changed her, and if she wasn't careful…

"All right," she said.

Slowly, breathing heavily, she unbuttoned the coat, letting it hang loose about her body.

"Better?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"You're very pretty."

"Let's not start that."

"But you are."

"Jerry—"

"You're very pretty and I hate to see you the way you have been."

"How is that?"

"Running away from something."

She laughed at him.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. I just feel it. You lead me so far, let me almost kiss you, and then slam the door. It's almost as though you get some sort of a kick out of it. Why?"

"Am I that way?"

"You know you are. You go out with me, knowing what they say I am, and yet you aren't that kind at all."

She looked up at him for a long time. She was conscious of the coat being opened, of her body almost exposed. But she did not care and she was not ashamed. There was something hidden here, something different, something that she had to find.

"Would you want me to be that way?" she asked him.

His reply was nearly lost in the sounds from the fire.

"No." His voice was soft.

"I'll bet not."

"I wouldn't," he insisted, leaning close to her. His eyes were serious, his lips barely moving. "There are enough of the other kind and not enough like you. I mean that, Peggy. You've done something to me that no girl has ever done before."

"What's that?"

"Made me act like a human being. Made me see what a fool I've been. Made me see all of the things that I never saw before."

"It's the brandy," she said.

She knew that he was going to kiss her, that his lips were going to come down on her mouth, but she did nothing to prevent it.

"You're right," he told her. "The strongest brandy in the world. You."

And then his lips were there, burning hotly on her mouth, his hands on her shoulders, the force of the kiss pushing her head back against the cushion.

"No!" she cried.

"You want me to."

"No!"

His lips lifted from her mouth.

"I won't if you don't want me to," he said.

She didn't know. She couldn't think. Everything was mixed up, frightening, the whole world closing in on her. Helen, she thought; Helen, Helen, Helen. And, quickly she thought: no, not Helen, never, never Helen, not ever again. Helen was her own kind, a girl, and that was not right. This with Jerry might not be right but it could not be so wrong; nothing, nothing, could be so wrong.

"I love you," Jerry whispered. "I love you very much."

Peggy was silent.

"I love you," he said again.

After that she did not talk. After that she became a woman.

Later, on the way back to town, he held her close with one hand and drove Mrs. Reid's car with the other.

"I love you," he said.

She believed him.

"I love you, too," she said.

And Peggy believed that, too.

Jerry finished putting up the last cot and then sat down, looking around the attic. It didn't look bad, not half bad. There were twelve cots in the room, all alike, and Mrs. Reid had put some fancy curtains at the windows. The paint had dried good and hard, a flat surface without any gloss, and the pink lights overhead added to the warmth of the atmosphere.

Like an army barracks, Jerry thought; like an army barracks with women in it.

Someone was coming up the stairs, high heels making a lot of noise on the bare wood. He sat still, wondering who it was, watching the entrance. Sometimes that Cathy Barnes came up there, looking around and talking, careless about the way her dresses fit and the way she moved her body. He guessed she was a little provoked with him because he hadn't done anything about it or even tried to. He sighed, hoping that it wasn't Cathy. She was as loose as a lone apple in a barrel and as anxious as a wild she-dog in spring.

"You're cute," she had told him more than once.

"Am I?"

"All men are cute."

He sighed again, still watching the entrance. A girl like Cathy was poison. She hated college and she was looking for a man to keep her. A guy could get into plenty of trouble with that type of dame. Plenty of trouble.

But it wasn't Cathy or any of the other girls.

It was Mrs. Reid.

"All done?" she wanted to know.

"Done."

"You can work when you feel like it," she said. "You can really make things fly."

She came forward, walking slowly. She was wearing a robe that wasn't closed all the way in the front. It was caught together with a button, low over her full breasts, and beneath that it was open. He could see her legs, long and a little full, and he could see the hint of light blue panties.

"You ought to pay extra for me working over the weekend," he said.

She nodded and smiled at him. "I ought to but I won't."