Punish the Sinners (33 page)

She looked around the cabin curiously, surprised at how neat and cozy it was. It was entirely made of wood, and Bill Enders had obviously known what he was doing. Even the furniture seemed to have been made by hand.

“It’s nice,” she said. “I always thought it was just a shack.”

“That’s what your mother wanted everyone to think,” Jim commented. “Lemme see if Bill has any beer around.” He went to the refrigerator, sure that it would be well stocked. It was. He took out two Olys, and handed one to Penny.

“I’ve never drunk beer before,” she said hesitantly.

“No time like the present,” Jim said. “I’ll build a fire.”

Penny hadn’t realized how cold the night had gotten. She shivered. A fire would be nice.

Ten minutes later, she and Jim Mulvey were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the flames dancing on the hearth. But the beer was bitter.

“I don’t like it,” Penny said, setting the bottle down.

Jim grinned at her. “I’ll fix you something else.”

He went to the kitchen and surveyed the liquor stock. He settled on sloe gin, mixed with ginger ale. He took the drink back to the living room and handed it to Penny. “Try that.”

Penny tasted it. “Sweet, but good. What’s in it?” she asked.

“Mostly ginger ale, with a little grenadine,” Jim lied. “They call it a Shirley Temple.”

“Didn’t she used to be in the movies?” Penny asked.

“I guess,” Jim said. “About a hundred years ago.”

Penny giggled, and took another swallow of the drink. She decided she liked it. She drained the glass and held it out to Jim. “Can I have another one?”

He fixed the second drink, and they sat in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth and the quiet Penny was beginning to feel much better. She looked at Jim, and thought he was terribly handsome in the firelight

“You’re nice,” she blurted. “I like you a lot.”

Jim turned and gazed at her. “I like you, too.” Then, after a pause, “Do you smoke?”

“Smoke?” Penny repeated blankly.

“You know. Grass.”

“God, no!” Penny repeated blankly.

“Well, it’s not that bad,” Jim chuckled.

“It’s bad enough,” Penny countered.

“How do you know, if you haven’t tried it?”

Penny thought it over. She was feeling relaxed—really good—and the idea of smoking some grass didn’t seem nearly as shocking as it always had before.

“Why not?” she giggled. Then: “Do you have any?”

“I don’t,” Jim said, winking at her. “But Bill does.”

He got up and went to one of the drawers that was built into the wall next to the fireplace. In a minute he was back, two joints in his hand. Penny reached to take one, but Jim held them out of her grasp.

“Not yet,” he said, laughing. “One at a time. No sense wasting all that good smoke. Just a second, and I’ll put on some music.” He chose an Alice Cooper record, and put it on the stereo. Then he rejoined Penny on the floor, and lit one of the joints.

She coughed on the first drag, but Jim showed her
how to do it. The second drag went into her lungs, and she held her breath. When she felt her lungs beginning to hurt, she let the air out.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said, a little surprised.

“You will,” Jim promised her. “Take another hit.”

This time she seemed to inhale endlessly before her lungs were full and then she thought she could hold her breath for an eternity. It felt good.

“Tm thirsty,” she said, lazily stretching herself out in front of the fire.

“I’ll fix you another,” Jim said softly. “Finish the joint, and we’ll light the other one when I get back.”

When he came back into the room a few minutes later, her drink in his hand, his shirt was off.

“I always get hot when I smoke,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Penny realized she was staring at his chest. She wondered what it would be like to touch Jim’s skin. As if reading her mind, Jim lay down on the floor and put his head in her lap. Her hand fell naturally to his chest and she thought she could feel his heart beating. It was almost as if her fingertips were inside him.

They smoked the second joint and Penny watched the fire, listened to the music, and stroked Jim’s chest.

“God, I’m hot,” Jim moaned. Penny looked down at him, and saw him looking hungrily back at her. He reached up and put his hand behind her head. Then he pulled her forward, and kissed her.

It was like an electric shock. She felt his tongue push into her mouth, and suddenly she felt as though she was inside her own mouth, not only feeling the kiss but watching it, helping it. She sucked hungrily at Jim’s tongue, wanting it deeper in her mouth.

Then she was lying on her back, and he was on top of her, his body pressing her against the floor. She
could feel his hips moving. In the background the music kept time to Jim’s movements. By the time his hand touched her breast, she was ready.

“Touch me,” she moaned. “Oh, God, it feels so good.”

Penny found herself groping for Jim, and she wasn’t surprised when she found his jeans unzipped. She slid her hand inside his shorts and touched him.

“Please,” she said. “Do it to me, Jim. Do it to me.”

He kicked his jeans aside and began removing her clothes. She lay on the floor, the liquor and grass working inside her, dissolving her inhibitions. She felt the heat of the fire, and then the heat of Jim’s body. She felt him entering her, felt him pressing against her. And then, painlessly, the membrane broke, and he plunged into her. She gave herself up to the ecstasy, only dimly aware of the sound of Jim’s voice calling out near her ear.

“Karen,” he cried. “Karen … Karen … Karen …”

   She knew it was morning even before she opened her eyes. There was a grayness around her, and now she knew she wasn’t at home.

She began to remember.

Even through the pounding headache, she could remember it all. The drink. It couldn’t have been “mostly ginger ale.” If it had been, she never would have agreed to try the grass.

And the rest of it. What they had done. She tried to force the images out of her mind, tried to tell herself that it hadn’t happened, that what she was remembering was a dream, not a memory. She looked around.

Jim Mulvey, naked, lay next to her on the floor, one hand holding his groin, almost as if he were protecting
himself. Penny stared at him for a moment, then leaped to her feet and scrambled into her clothes. She wanted to wake him, but first she wanted to cover him up. She didn’t want him to wake up nude, and find her staring down at him. She went into the bedroom and pulled a quilt from the bed.

She took it back into the living room, and threw it over Jim. Then she began shaking him.

“Wake up,” she said. “Please, Jim, wake up.”

He stirred finally, and looked at her sleepily.

“What time is it?” He jumped up, grabbing the quilt just before it fell away from his body, and picked up his clothes. Then he scuttled into the bedroom.

“It’s all right,” he said a couple of minutes later as he emerged from the other room. “It’s just a little after five. If we hurry, you’ll be home before anyone even wakes up.”

Penny didn’t say anything, nothing at all. She followed him mutely to the car, got in, and huddled miserably in the corner of the seat as he drove her home.

“Stop here,” she said suddenly. They were a block from her house. “If I get out here, at least no one will see you bringing me home. Then maybe I can convince them I was at Judy’s all night.”

Jim let her out, wanting to apologize for what had happened, but unable to find the words. He hadn’t meant for the night to end that way, but he had just gotten too stoned. He hadn’t known what he was doing. In fact, he had thought he was making love to Karen. But he didn’t tell Penny any of it. Instead, he put the car in gear and drove away. He could understand why she didn’t want her parents to see him, but he still resented it.

Penny hurried up the steps and into the house. Her mother, bleary-eyed, gazed at her steadily.

“Where have you been all night?” Leona Anderson demanded.

“At Judy’s,” Penny said. She wondered why her mother was looking at her so strangely; it wouldn’t have been the first time she had stayed at Judy’s overnight without telling her mother. Besides, her mother would have called the Nelsons, and Judy would have covered up for her somehow. And why was her mother still dressed? Hadn’t she been to bed at all? Suddenly Penny was frightened.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” she said.

Leona Anderson, her mouth set, nodded stiffly.

“Well, what is it?” Penny asked. “Mother, what is it?”

“I’ve been at the hospital all night,” Leona said. “As a matto of fact, I just got home myself. Janet Connally tried to hang herself last night.”

Penny stared at her mother for a second, then screamed.

She screamed again.

Something broke inside her, and she crumpled to the floor. Leona Anderson stared at her daughter, then her hands instinctively began working the beads she had taken to the hospital with her.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners …”

She broke off, unable to finish the prayer. But in her mind the words echoed.

“…  now, and at the how of our death …”

Penny Anderson’s first thought was that it had all been a bad dream. But then she realized she wasn’t in her bed; she was on the sofa in the living room, and her mother was staring down at her.

It wasn’t a bad dream. It was real. It had all happened. Penny closed her eyes again, trying to shut it all out, but it wouldn’t be shut out.

“Janet—” she said finally. “Is Janet going to be all right?”

“Shell be fine,” Leona snapped. “Although what’s going on in this town I don’t know. Ever since that Mr. Balsam got here …” She trailed off. No sense going into that now, she reminded herself. “Do you want to tell me where you were all night?”

“I wasn’t anywhere,” Penny said.
“I
was just wandering around.”

“No,” Leona said definitely. “You weren’t out ‘wandering around.’ You went somewhere with Jim Mulvey, and I want to know where,”

“We were out at the lake, talking.”

“All night? Don’t try to fool me, Penelope Louise!”

“He was upset,” Penny replied. “He wanted to talk about Karen, and he asked me if Pd go for a ride with him, and talk to him for a while.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Leona demanded. “Jim Mulvey never talked for more than two minutes at a stretch in his life!” She glared at Penny, as if the truth would somehow be pulled out of her by sheer concentration. Penny stared at the floor.

It wasn’t that she wanted to lie to her mother. She wanted to tell her mother the truth. In fact, she wanted to throw herself in her mother’s arms and cry. But her mother wouldn’t understand. Penny was sure of it Her mother would be horrified by what she’d done, and start yelling at her. Penny couldn’t let that happen; she was already too upset She knew she’d fall apart completely if her mother started yelling at her. Shakily, she got up from the sofa.

“I’m going to take a bath, and go to bed,” she announced. “I feel awful.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Leona agreed. “And you can take a bath. But you’re not going to bed, young lady. You’re going to school.”

Penny stared at her mother. School? The way she felt? No. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t go. Not after last night She needed a day by herself; a day to deal with what had happened. A day to forget. But she looked at her mother and knew it was no use. She was going to school.

Tiredly, she started up the stairs. Halfway up she heard her mother’s voice again.

“When you get there,” Leona said darkly, “don’t bother to go to your first classes. Go to Monsignor’s office. If you won’t tell me what happened last night you can tell him.”

Penny froze on the stairs and listened for the words she didn’t want to hear. They came.

“Monsignor will hear your confession.”

*  *  *

Penny could feel people staring at her as she walked up Main Street. She tried to tell herself that they weren’t staring at her, that she didn’t look any different now than she had yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that But she could feel the eyes on her, feel people wondering why she was ou her way to school so late.

They
were
watching her, and wondering. Neilsville was getting worried. One of their girls was dead, and two others had tried to take their lives. And they were all from the Catholic school on the hill. What was going on up there? So they watched Penny Anderson as she self-consciously walked through town and started up the hill toward St. Francis Xavier’s.

She noticed a chill in the air this morning, and glanced up at the leaden sky. Summer was definitely over, and the world seemed to be cloaked in the same gray shroud Penny felt herself suffocating in. She hurried up the steps and through the main door of the school.

Monsignor Vernon was waiting for her, seated at his desk, his fingers drumming impatiently. His lips tightened when he saw Penny Anderson framed in the doorway.

“Your mother has asked me to hear your confession,” he said.

“Couldn’t we talk here?” Penny countered. She knew she would have to tell the priest the truth in the confessional. Here, in the office, she could avoid it

“Shall we go into the church?” Monsignor Vernon said, and Penny knew that he was not asking a question, Silently, she followed the priest out of the school and into the church.

When she was in the tiny confessional, the door latched firmly, Penny knelt and began praying. She
heard the shutter open. The priest was waiting for her to begin.

The story came out slowly. But Monsignor Vernon prodded, and poked, dragging it from her detail by detail.

“Did you know it was going to happen?” the priest’s voice asked.

“No,” Penny replied.

“Are you sure?”

She tried to remember. “Not at first,” she said hesitantly.

“But then you knew?”

“When he took his shirt off—”

“How did you feel?”

“I’m—I’m not sure. I wanted to—to—”

“To touch him?” the disembodied voice accused.

“Yes,” Penny hissed. “Yes, I wanted to touch him.”