Boys & Girls Together (14 page)

It was her first performance and she never forgot it.

Jenny’s best friend was Tommy Alden. Frail, dark, he was one year older than Jenny but not nearly so fast a runner. His father, Richard K. Alden, had been a successful clothing manufacturer in Chicago until a heart attack made the further creation of dresses, coats and suits a perilous venture. Recuperating, he had come upon Cherokee Lodge and decided almost immediately to buy it. So he did, enlarging it, installing his family in one wing, throwing the rest open to his former colleagues at outrageous prices. Because of Carl Devers, the lodge was an immediate and continuing success. They were close, Mr. Alden and Carl. Different as they were—Mr. Alden was short, paunchy, vocal, aggressive—they were close.

And so were their children. They were always together, Jenny and the boy. He was studious, shy, given to periods of silence followed by quick bursts of speech that only Jenny could understand. He loved to read, and late afternoons they would sit by the water and he would recount tales of knights and kings while she listened, nodding when he glanced at her, urging him to go on. Tommy was the one who wanted to be an actor, a career in which Jenny, at first, had no interest, preferring to run or swim or creep through the woods on an Indian raid. They compromised, eventually, spending the mornings running, the afternoons perfecting their talents as performers. They had a place, halfway between Jenny’s home and the lodge, a semicircle thick with shrubbery, the open half facing the water. There they would act, stumbling through Robin Hood or Cinderella, listening as their words echoed back across the water.

All too quickly Jenny’s childhood passed. She grew taller, towering half a head above her classmates in school. She took to slumping, rounding her shoulders, but she was still tall. Too tall. Taller even than the boys. Then, when she was eleven, her body absurdly began to develop. At an age when everyone else was flat, Jenny’s breasts were slowly starting to fill. She rounded her shoulders even more and did what she could to ignore it. One afternoon when she was alone in their acting place Mr. Norman found her. It was a red day, hot, and even as the sun began falling the heat lingered. Jenny sat cross-legged on the ground, staring out. She wore a white blouse and a summer skirt and her pale skin was stained dark. She turned as she realized a man was watching her, smiling down. “Hello,” the man said.

“Hi,” Jenny answered. “You staying at the lodge?”

“Maybe I am,” the man said, “and maybe I’m not.” He smiled again. “What’s your name?”

“Jenny.”

The man opened his mouth wide. “Isn’t that amazing? That’s my name too.”

“Jenny? Your name is Jenny?”

“Absolutely. What’s your last name?”

“Devers.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” the man said, shaking his head now. “So’s mine. Jenny Devers. That’s my name.”

“You’re kidding me. You are.”

“Word of honor.” He raised his right hand as a pledge. It was a short hand, white and soft, with little pudgy fingers.

“But Jenny’s a girl’s name.”

“Sometimes. Not always. Why, some of my best friends are called Jenny and they’re not girls. I’m not a girl either.” He smiled. Jenny said nothing, staring up at him. “The thing that worries me,” the man went on, “is that we’ve got the same last name too. Maybe we’re the same person. Did you ever think of that?”

“You’re crazy.” Jenny giggled.

He laughed with her. “There’s one way of finding out. How old are you?

“Eleven and a half.”

“Whew.” He gave a tremendous sigh. “We’re not the same person. I’m not eleven and a half, so that proves it. I’m only six. Six going on seven, really.”

“Oh, you’re not either six. You’re way older than I am.”

“I just look older than you are, Jenny. I’m really just six going on seven and I can prove it. Here.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “See that? That’s my birth certificate.”

Jenny giggled again. “That’s your cigarette. You really are crazy.”

“It’s my birth certificate and I can prove it,” the man said. He pulled out a lighter. “See? I’m going to smoke it and I don’t smoke cigarettes. Never smoke cigarettes. Only smoke birth certificates.” He lit it and inhaled deeply, sitting down quietly on the ground beside her.

“If that’s your birth certificate what does it say on it?”

The man peered closely at the cigarette, squinting, cupping his hands around it so Jenny couldn’t see. “It says on it, ‘Jenny Devers is six going on seven.’ ”

“It says ‘Chesterfield,’ ” Jenny cried. “I saw the package.”

“You’re not very logical, Jenny, are you, Jenny? It did say ‘Chesterfield’ on the package. I admit that. But I always keep my birth certificates in a Chesterfield package.”

“Why?”

“So they won’t fly away, Jenny. Like you, Jenny. Are you going to fly away?”

“I can’t. I don’t know how. Anyway, people don’t fly.”

“What about pilots? Don’t they fly?”

“Yes, but they’re in air-o-planes, silly. They couldn’t fly if they didn’t have an air-o-plane around them.”

“Have you ever asked a pilot if he needed an air-o-plane, Jenny-o-Devers? Have you?”

“No.”

“Well, I have. Some of my best friends are pilots and I’ve asked them and they all say the same thing.” He picked up a long pine needle and skimmed it along the ground.

“What did they say?”

He touched the tip of the needle to Jenny’s skin and ran it down softly along her leg.

“Don’t do that. What did they say?”

“What did who say?” He touched the tip of the needle to her skin again. Jenny moved away from him.

“The pilots, silly. The pilots.”

“They said you have lovely legs, Jenny. That’s what they said. Every last one of them. That Jenny Devers has lovely legs. Do you want to see my legs, Jenny? Would you like that? Say yes.”

She tried to scramble clear but he was too quick for her. With one hand he flicked the cigarette away and grabbed her ankle, pulling her down. She was about to scream when his other hand clamped down hard across her mouth and for a moment she could not breathe. He held her with surprising strength, the palm of his hand imprisoning her mouth, his other arm locked around her kicking body. Then he threw one of his own legs over hers, pinioning her. He smelled of tobacco and she wanted to open her eyes but she was afraid of what she might see. Then his hand began moving up her leg. “Relax, Jenny,” he whispered. She tried to kick but she couldn’t and his hand was under her skirt, above her knees, moving slowly higher. He was breathing harder, the heavy sound exploding in the quiet afternoon. The sun must be beautiful now, Jenny thought, all red and beautiful, and she wanted to look at it, but she knew his face would be in the way and the thought of his face made her shiver. “You stop that,” he whispered. “We’re friends, Jenny, so you stop that. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” But you are, Jenny wanted to scream. You are. His hand hurt her and the weight of his body hurt her terribly and she could feel herself growing faint with the pain when suddenly the pain was gone. Jenny opened her eyes. The man was suspended above her in midair and Carl Devers was holding him. Carl’s great shoulders shrugged and the man spun upward through the air, crashing down like a rag doll ten feet away. Carl was on him quickly, lifting him, and the back of Carl’s hand caught the man flush on the mouth and he spun toward the earth again, starting to bleed. Again Carl was on him, dragging him silently to his feet. Again Carl’s great hand swung and again the man spun down. Blood dripped from one side of the man’s mouth as Carl took him by the shirt front and slowly, with his left arm, lifted him off the ground. Clenching his right fist, Carl drew it back slowly and carefully, taking dead aim.

Abruptly the man started to cry.

Carl hesitated. The man was sobbing, his face wrinkled up, tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the blood along his mouth. Carl watched him a moment. Then he put the man down.

“I almost hurt you, Mr. Norman,” Carl said.

Mr. Norman turned and ran into the woods toward Cherokee Lodge. Carl dropped to one knee beside Jenny. Gently he lifted her, carrying her down to the lake. A canoe was half dragged up on shore, Carl’s fishing rod and tackle box lying alongside. He put Jenny down, gestured for her to get in. She did. “Face me,” he said. She faced him. Pushing off, he began effortlessly to paddle in an easy rhythm, and the canoe sped along the shore of the lake, gliding through quiet patches of shadow as the red sun settled. He watched her with concern, and every so often he smiled, nodding his great blond head, and she smiled back at him, her hands gripping the sides of the boat.

“I’m all right,” Jenny said. “I am.”

“Auh?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He nodded, continuing to paddle. The rhythm was faster now and the canoe cut through the still water. Jenny turned, staring out ahead of them. Then she looked back at her father.

“That’s the end of the lake,” she said. “The very end.”

“Auh?”

“I’ve never been there before. Never. Not once.”

He smiled, slowing as they approached the shore. Holding the boat steady, he gestured for her to step out. He handed her his rod and tackle. Quickly he lifted the canoe, shouldering it, setting off through the woods, Jenny skipping alongside.

“Where ever are we going?”

He shrugged his great shoulders.

“Wait till I tell Tommy about this,” Jenny said. “He’ll just die.”

They moved through the woods a minute more and then Jenny stopped, staring. They were on the shore of another lake. Very small, almost perfectly round, it seemed, as she stared at it, with the final soft rays of the sun splashing it deep red, to be a magic place if ever there was one. Carl lowered the canoe, beckoned for her to get in. He pushed off from shore and they glided quietly toward the center of the circle. The sun was gone suddenly. Shadows slipped out to meet them, covering them. The constant summer sound of insects and birds seemed distant, muted. Jenny locked her arms around her knees, rocking gently back and forth.

“Princess lives in there.”

Jenny looked at her father; his hair seemed almost to shine in the dusk. He sat holding the canoe paddle in one hand, pointing with it toward an area of shore where the trees were thickly bunched, interlaced with bushes. It was a dark place. Jenny stared at him, then at the dark place, back and forth, back and forth.

“A princess?”

“Auh?”

“A real princess?”

“Auh?”

“How do you know?”

“Seen her. Met her. Took her fishing once.”

“You took her
fishing
?”

“Auh?”

“What does she look like?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Like a princess.”

“What’s her name?”

“Name?”

“Well, what did you call her?”

“Princess, I guess. I’d just say, ‘Reel in slow, Princess. Good cast, Princess.’ Like that.”

“Oh, I don’t believe you.”

Carl leaned forward. “Have I ever lied? Ever?”

Jenny looked at him. Then she turned, squinting in at the shore. “No,” she said. “Not ever.”

“Well, then.”

“Tell me about her hair. How long was her hair?”

“How long?”

“Yes.”

Carl twisted the canoe paddle in his hands. “Well, it was long enough.”

“Oh, no. No. More. It has to be more than that. Princesses have long hair.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, now that you mention it, it was very long. Very long indeed. Longest hair I ever saw.”

“And was it golden?”

“Yes. Very long golden hair.”

“She must be a princess, then. No doubt about that.” Carl began to paddle slowly, and they glided in closer to the dark shore. “Why ever is she living here? What’s she doing?”

“Hiding, I guess. Waiting.”

“Auh?” Jenny said.

Carl nodded. “That’s what she told me anyhow.” He moved the paddle slowly through the water and they edged still closer to shore. “ ‘Carl,’ she told me—”

“She called you by your name? Fancy that.”

“Very informal princess,” he said. “Not the least uppity. Anyway, she said, ‘Carl, everybody wants me because I’m a princess. Everybody’s always grabbing for me on account of that. Well, I’m sick of it. I’m going to hide out here and wait for a gentle man. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m waiting. Gentle people, they’re harder to find than you think.’ ‘I guess so, Princess,’ I said. ‘I guess maybe you’re right.’ ” He pulled the paddle sharply in the water and the canoe glided up on land. “Hungry?”

“Here? Won’t she mind?”

“ ‘Carl,’ she told me, ‘The shores of my kingdom are yours. You ever want to bring your wife or daughter—’ ”

“She knows about me?”

“ ‘—your wife or daughter Jenny—’ ”

“Fancy that.”

“ ‘—for a meal, go right ahead.’ ” He gestured with his long hands. “Now get us some wood for a fire.” Jenny stepped out and he pushed off, stroking down along the shore. She gathered some good wood, then turned, arms full, watching her father. He was casting out, reeling in, whipping the lake white, a gigantic figure kneeling in the center of the canoe. Again and again he cast and she heard the slap of the bait striking the water, the whisper as he reeled in. The moon began rising, catching his pale hair, holding the color. All the rest of him was dark, shadow, but the pale hair glistened. Fish began hitting the bait and he brought them carefully up to the boat, effortlessly scooping them from the water, dropping them on the floor of the canoe. Then he was casting again, steadily, in perfect rhythm.

Jenny watched her father.

When he had half a dozen fish he returned, started the fire, then set to work. She stared at his hands as they scaled and cleaned the fish, moving by memory, cutting, scraping. The fire began to snap, sparks spinning away, as her father, caught in the red glow, concentrated on preparing their dinner. When it was ready, they ate.

Jenny could not remember having had a better meal.

Later, as she tired, they paddled back. He led her through the dark portage, then they were on water again. She napped. When they got home she went straight to bed. She slept well until she began to dream. She was running through the woods down to the lake. Far, far on the other side she saw her father and she ran across the lake, but not fast enough because now she could see what was behind her and it was a hand. She fled but the hand was much too fast and it was grabbing at her, pulling her down. In the water there were more hands, hundreds of them, all of them pawing, and she tried fighting but they had her feet and her arms and were covering her mouth when she screamed. She screamed again and he heard her. Carl heard her and started for her and now they were frightened. The hands were frightened and they began swimming away but she kept on screaming until she woke.