Music in the Night (12 page)

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,
honey?" I heard Mommy call from my doorway. "Yes, Mommy."
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, Mommy. I just had to go to the
bathroom," I said. "I'm fine."
"Okay. Would you like some hot chocolate?" "No, Mommy. I ate and drank enough." "Oh. Is Mrs. Royce a good cook?"
I swallowed and closed my eyes. Robert had
told me she was a good cook.
"Yes, Mommy," I said. I felt like I had stuck
pins in my own throat. No one believed in me more
than Mommy and no one would refuse more to
believe I had lied or been deceitful.
"That's nice, dear. You can tell me all about it
tomorrow, if you want. Good night, Laura." "Good night, Mommy."
I heard her go to her room. Then I took a deep
breath and got ready for bed. I tossed and turned all
night, seeing myself in a rowboat that was being flung
from one wave to another, the sky black and full of
cold rain. Out of the storm clouds Daddy's face
appeared, raging. A long finger of accusation pointed
at me from the heavens.
"You have sinned," he bellowed. It was a chant
caught in the wind. "You have sinned."
I woke up in a cold sweat.
"I haven't sinned. I haven't. I love Robert and
he loves me. That's not a sin. That's--"
I pressed my hand to my mouth, embarrassed to
find myself talking aloud. Slowly, I lowered my head
to the pillow and stared into the darkness until my
eyelids grew so heavy again, I couldn't keep them
open.
Sunlight burst into my room like a bird crashing
madly into the window. My eyes snapped open and I
sat up quickly. I had perspired so much during the
night, my nightgown was cold and wet. I pulled it off
my body quickly and went in to take a warm shower,
turning my face into the water and letting it pound on
my closed eyes and cheeks.
No one but Cary seemed to notice how quiet I
was at breakfast. Daddy was excited about a new
location he had discovered for lobster fishing and talk
of the day's work dominated the conversation. Every
once in a while, Cary glanced at me and I could see
from the way he studied me that he sensed something
was wrong. Every time his questioning gaze met mine I glanced away quickly. I was eager for everyone to finish eating so I could escape to the kitchen to help
Mommy clean up.
Cary poked his head through the kitchen
doorway just as Mommy and I were finishing. "I'm going over to the bog," he said, "if you and
May want to come along."
"Go ahead, dear," Mommy said. "We're almost
done."
"I know it's not as exciting as it used to be,"
Cary snapped. "Forget it."
"No!" I cried. He looked back, surprised. "I'd like to go, too. I'll get May."
We joined him outside and the three of us, just
as we used to, walked over the beach to our cranberry
bog. It was all in blossom and looked like a pale pink
ocean.
"Daddy says it will be a fair crop this year, but
no record breaker," Cary remarked. He leaned over
and inspected some of the blossoms.
We didn't harvest until the fall and even with
everyone helping it was still quite a process. It was
Cary's job to run one of the harvesting machines. He
had been doing it since he was ten.
"Looks healthy," he remarked. He gave May a blossom. Then he sat and put a twig in his mouth as he gazed out at the ocean. "So how was your dinner?
Are you a member of their family yet?"
"No, Cary. And you don't have to be so
sarcastic. We had a nice dinner," I added quickly. "Um." He glanced at me. "Everything all
right?" "Yes," I said.
"You don't look all that happy this morning." "I've been thinking about a lot of things," I said.
"Oh?"
"Things I have to work out for myself," I added.
He grimaced.
"Used to be a time when you and I trusted each
other with our problems, Laura."
"It's riot that I don't trust you, Cary. Sometimes
girls have to deal with girl issues, issues boys just
won't be able to understand."
"Sure," he said, his mouth twisted with
skepticism. "I'm telling you the truth, Cary Logan.
You don't have to sneer at everything I say." "You mean you're not going to discuss this with
your precious boyfriend?"
"Cary!"
"What?"
"Nothing," I said, shaking my head, my tears
escaping from the corners of my eyes.
"What is it, Laura?" he asked with a face full of
concern.
"Boys are just . . boys!" I cried and got up. I
tried running down the sandhill, but sand has a way of
giving and I know I looked clumsy and foolish, nearly
losing my balance as I hurried back to the house. All that day I found myself bursting into tears
for no apparent reason or warning. I tried to hide my
face and spent most of my time alone in my room
under the guise of studying for finals. The truth was
my eyes just floated over the pages of my notes, my
mind not grasping any of the lessons. Robert called,
but I kept our conversation short and I heard the
unhappiness in his voice when I ended the call. I returned to my room and my mind once again
returned to the night before.
Why? I demanded of my annoying conscience,
why should I feel any guilt? I love Robert and I
believe he loves me. What we did all people who are
in love do.
But other people wait until the proper time,
until they are blessed and until they swear their love
and loyalty before God in a church, my conscience, in
Daddy's voice, replied.
No. I shook my head. Love is what's holy, not
words pronounced by a priest. Love, pure and simple. Is it love? Can you be so sure, so positive? Will
you be in love like this next year? Will Robert?
Yes, yes, yes, I
shouted in my thoughts. Suddenly there was a gentle knock on my door.
I quickly wiped away my tears with the back of my
hand.
"Who is it?"
Cary opened the door and leaned in.
"Laura, if Ive done anything or said anything
to hurt your feelings today, I'm sorry," he said. "I just
wanted you to know that before you went to sleep." "You didn't," I said. "But thanks."
"Good. Night, Laura."
"Good night, Cary."
He closed the door and walked softly away. During the following week, Robert would leave
a letter in my locker at the end of every day. Each
letter declared his love for me more than the letter he
had previously written.
I want to apologize to you, Laura, but I tell
myself what we did was not wrong and neither you
nor I should feel guilty about it. I love you and only
you and making love is only another way of saying it.
There's no one to forgive,
he added.
I tied his letters up and kept them hidden in my
desk at home, reading and rereading them so much, I
thought the words were starting to fade. I wanted to
believe every word he wrote and everything he said to
me. I wanted that more than anything and I fought
hard to silence the voice of conscience that berated me
and threatened me with the punishments of
damnation.
Every night that week at dinner, Daddy seemed
to pick the readings from the Bible as if he knew what
was going on in my mind. One night Isaiah, Chapter
1: "Ah sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a
seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters . . ." I looked down at my lap and when I looked up,
I felt the heat in my face and Cary's penetrating gaze,
his face still full of questions and concern.
The next night it was my turn and Daddy asked
me to read from Romans, 8. I began, but my voice
cracked when I read, ". . for to be carnally minded is
death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace . .
."
My throat closed and I had to stop, pretending
to be choking on something I had nibbled before we
sat at the table. I drank some water and Cary scooped up the Bible and completed the reading for me. Daddy
looked at me with troubled eyes.
"Are you all right, Laura?" Mommy asked. "Yes, Mommy."
"Maybe you're working too hard on your
schoolwork," she said. "You should take a day off and
maybe go sailing or enjoy the beach."
"I'll see, Mommy," I said. "I'll be fine." Robert's letters kept coming, his pleading
growing more frantic as I continued to remain aloof in
school. He was absent on Thursday and, since Cary
was already eating with friends, I sat with Theresa
Patterson in the cafeteria.
"You look lost without Robert," she said.
"Where is he?"
"He's . . . I don't know. I guess he wasn't feeling
well this morning."
Theresa's dark eyes searched my face and then
she moved a little closer.
"There are a lot of girls who are jealous of you,
Laura. Most of them would steal him away if they
could. Can they?" she asked with a small smile on her
lips.
"I don't own him, Theresa. No one owns
anybody else," I replied.
She shook her head.
"That's not the right answer, Laura. You should
be a tiger when it comes to holding on to your man.
See Maggie Williams there. She'd jump you and tear
out your hair you so much as batted your eyelashes at