Sex Between, The (9 page)

The fat guy made a grab for her right arm. "Hey, butch," he leered, "where'd you learn that?"

Calmly, Lee shook off the hand. "Throwing bricks at bastards like you," she said. Then she reached for Maggie's teddy bear.

"Wait a minute," the guy said. "I don't like being talked to that way."

He folded his ham-like hands on his hips and Lee knew that the time had come for a discreet withdrawal.

"I don't blame you," she said. She took Maggie's elbow and turned away. "Neither do I."

Before the big guy could get any madder, she maneuvered them away from the booth and around the corner into another aisle.

"Do people often talk to you like that?" Maggie said seriously.

"Only sometimes," Lee said. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's just that I never realized that... " She bit her lower lip and hugged the teddy bear under her arm.

Lee laughed. "That I look queer as a three-dollar bill? I don't to everybody," she said. "But sometimes I feel like I have two heads, the way guys like that pick me out."

"Does it bother you?"

"No. Why should it?"

'"I mean, well, he was ready to wipe up the ground with you."

"It's a funny thing," Lee said. "Some men are like that. I don't know why, exactly. But it's always a big, tough looking guy like that one."

"Like Pieter," Maggie said so quietly Lee almost didn't hear it.

She stopped and turned to look down at the girl. "Why did you say that?" she demanded.

Maggie shrugged. "Nothing."

"Oh yes, something, Miss Maggie. Now spit it out."

Maggie sighed. "Well, after we went for the license. Pieter came back to the house with me. Trudel wasn't there for a change. He left her at the office. He... he wanted... "

Lee had a fair idea of what he wanted. 'To get acquainted," she said mildly. "That figures. But what the hell has that got to do with me?"

Maggie leaned back against the wall of a booth and peered at Lee with round frightened eyes. She clung to the teddy bear like it was salvation.

"I'm waiting," Lee said patiently. Something in Maggie's eyes told her not to push.

"I couldn't," was all Maggie said.

"You couldn't what, damn it?"

"He... " Maggie glanced about her, at the people, the too many people moving around them.

"Come on," Lee said. "Let's go back to the car."

Angrily now, she grabbed the girl's hand and propelled them through the crowd to the sidewalk. Her jaw worked against the tension building inside her. She did not want to hear what Maggie would tell her. And yet, she knew she had to.

When they reached the car, she shut Maggie inside, then went around to join her. Before she got in, she spun on her heel and stalked off to a liquor store a couple of doors away.

When she came back to the car, Maggie said, "I thought you didn't drink when you drove."

"I don't," Lee snapped.

"Then why the bottle?"

"It's for the teddy bear," Lee said. She slammed the car into gear and headed back toward the highway.

It would be dark by the ocean. And quiet. There, she would hear Maggie out and help her if she could. There she would listen and try to make Maggie understand...

She did not let Maggie go on with her tale until they had reached the beach. It was, as she had prayed it would be, empty of people and of light and of noise. Too early in the season yet for the summer people. And too early in the night for lovers. She took Maggie's hand and led her across the sand to the water's edge. Then she spread out a blanket from the trunk. "Sit," she ordered.

Maggie sat, still holding the teddy bear under one arm. Lee sat down beside her and pulled off her shoes. She took the bottle out of her jacket pocket and burrowed it into the sand.

"Now," she said. "Tell me."

Maggie had had plenty of time to pull herself together. Now she told Lee easily, without hesitation, without embarrassment.

"Pieter was with me for a long time," she began. "He said about six words. You know how he is. But he made himself pretty clear. He wanted to make love to me. At least, I guess that's what he would have called it."

"Somehow I doubt it," Lee said. "But what did you call it?"

Maggie shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to call it. He's… he's like a bull, Lee. Remember, when we went down to the Ten Broeck's farm and we saw that bull go after the cow?"

Lee nodded. "Very well," she said. And an image of Pieter the bull flashed across her mind, churning up a disgust she could not swallow. Poor Maggie...

"Well, he tried," Maggie said. And she shivered as though suddenly cold. "I couldn't, Lee. I just couldn't."

"What happened?" Lee said, needing now to hear it all, to gorge herself until she vomited.

"I told him I wanted to wait. It's only a few days. But he said... he said... "

Lee felt a cold hand reach out to squeeze her heart. Pieter, the son of a bitch... the impotent fool…

"He said you were queer," Maggie finished quietly, "and that you ruined me. He said he'd tell Kate if I didn't..."

Maggie was crying now, but very quietly. Lee reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap. "Here," she said. "I know you don't drink, girl, but sometimes..."

Maggie took a swallow and choked. Then she took another and it went down smoothly.

"Well, it had to happen sooner or later," Lee said, resigning herself along with Maggie to the girl's fate.

"But it didn't," Maggie said. "I just couldn't..."

Lee lowered the bottle halfway to her lips.

Maggie shrugged. "I wanted to, Lee. So he wouldn't tell Kate. I mean, it's a lie, after all. But he doesn't know it."

Lee sighed. "Don't worry," she said gently. "He won't tell Kate anything. He's getting a dowry with you that would shut any man's mouth." She took a long pull from the bottle, then wiped her palm across the top. "That's not what worries me."

Maggie put the teddy bear on the blanket and lay back with her head on its belly. "I know what worries you."

"So what's the answer, Miss Maggie?"

"I'll have to, that's all. But I'm scared out of my mind.”

"It's one thing to be revolted," Lee said. "But why are you scared?"

"Suppose I get pregnant?"

"That's the whole idea," Lee answered. "For you to make little Ten Broecks to run around the estate."

"But I don't think I... " Maggie paused. "Give me another swallow of that stuff."

In the darkness, Lee grinned. "You’ll be a lush in no time at this rate."

"I had some last night," Maggie admitted. "After you went out." She took a drink and handed the bottle back to Lee. "I had to think."

Again Lee laughed. "Did it help?" Then she grew serious. "So tell me what the gripe is."

"My mother died in childbirth," Maggie said quietly. "And so did yours, trying to have a baby that was dead anyhow. I don't want to die that way, Lee. I think I'd rather..."

"Now, you listen to me," Lee insisted. "Your mother died because Andrew was so damned drunk he couldn't get her to the hospital. And mine died because she had a bad heart and shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place. You're as healthy as a horse. There's no reason..."

"Lee," Maggie interrupted, "it's your family too. You know half the women have died in childbirth. Even Kate had a hard time. Would you take the chance?"

It wasn't something she thought about often. But she knew she had to answer Maggie and answer her the right way. "I would," she said carefully, "for someone I loved."

"So would I," Maggie murmured. Very gently, her fingers closed over Lee's hand. "For someone I loved."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lee drove Maggie home and left her at the curb. She did not even have to tell the girl that she would not be back. It was a thing they understood and accepted between them.

Yet as she drove away, Lee looked up to the rear-view mirror for a last glimpse of Maggie and cursed the whole lousy, stinking world. The last thing she wanted tonight was Cleo. But to Cleo she would go, dragging her tail behind her.

An hour ago, she could have had Maggie on any terms she wanted her. Maybe it had been the scotch. Or the beach in the early darkness. Maybe it had just been the two of them, accepting a simple truth about themselves. They had not spoken about what they felt. They had sat close, but they had not touched. They had dreamed the same dream, Lee knew. Yet both had known that it was only a dream.

On Sunday, come hell or the atom bomb, Maggie would belong to Pieter. It was a blunt, unalterable fact. And perhaps it was this bluntness that had held Lee in check, For she knew that it could do neither of them any good to take a brief fling at love. For herself, it would make losing Maggie intolerable. And for Maggie, it would make Pieter's brand of love-making all the more revolting, for Pieter would not know how to be gentle. Pieter would not know how to thrill Maggie...

Lee heard a horn blare into her ear and, glancing around, saw a man shaking an angry fist. She grinned back and, maneuvering carefully, skimmed by the end of his bumper. But it had been close enough to scare her, and she realized that she was not quite as sober as she might be. She reached to her jacket pocket for a cigarette and felt her fingers tremble as she stuck it into her mouth. Without lighting it, she flipped the cigarette out the window and looked down the street for a place to park.

She was not sorry that she had fortified herself with scotch. It would help her forget that Cleo was only Cleo. And she needed to forget that tonight. She pressed the bell under Cleo's mailbox and waited, leaning her shoulder against the door.

Cleo took her time about answering. Which, Lee knew, was par for the course. She expected to find the woman in a foul mood, full of resentment and anger-annoyed because Lee had not kept their date the evening before, suspicious that someone else might be trying to climb into the niche she had carved for herself.

But Cleo was all smiles. She opened the door for Lee, then walked into the living room, tying the sash of a green silk robe.

"I was in the tub," Cleo said, running fingers through her damp hair. "You are earlier than I expected."

Lee smiled dourly to herself. So this was Cleo's mode of attack. To be feminine, to be passive, to give Lee just enough rope to hang herself with. An effective approach to a free-wheeler like herself... at least a woman like Cleo would think so. She could not expect Cleo to know she had changed—she had only begun to realize it herself.

"I'm sorry about last night," Lee said, knowing she did not have to explain, but she couldn't just stand there, or Cleo, like Helga, would know that Lee's mind was elsewhere. And she didn't want Cleo to know that. She wanted Cleo to be good to her tonight. Very good. "But something came up and I..."

Cleo fluttered fingers in Lee's face. "You do not have to tell me," she said pleasantly. "I know you are a very busy person. A woman learns to wait patiently, when she wants something enough."

Lee took off her jacket and threw it over the arm of a chair. If she avoided meeting Cleo's eyes, perhaps Cleo would not discover the contempt hidden there. Maybe Cleo would never know…

"Oh my, we have a sour face tonight." Cleo's hand rested gently on Lee's arm. "Have I said something?"

Lee sighed. Funny thing about women, she thought, how they never seemed to understand anything. But to Cleo she only said, "Of course not. I'm just tired."

"Well, sit down then," Cleo said, taking her by the hand. "Shall I rub your back? It helps sometimes to ease the tiredness."

Lee lowered herself to the edge of the couch. Already Cleo's hands were seeking beneath her collar, the thumbs massaging the back of her neck. If she could just relax and enjoy it... But, somehow, it was too easy this way. Cleo, being Cleo, would have her naked in five minutes. And it was too soon. The memory of Maggie, sitting in the car beside her, hugging the teddy bear in an excess of loneliness and frustration, still nagged. The touch of Maggie's hand was still warm against her own. She needed to relax from the inside out, untie the knots slowly so that they would not strangle her.

She reached up and caught hold of Cleo's hands and brought them to her lips. She kissed them gently.

When she looked up, Cleo was watching her with eyes half-closed. Quickly, Lee smiled. "Don't be scared." she said. "I'm fine. But I've got a hangover that's too big for my head and..."

Cleo laughed lightly, but there was something wary in her eyes. “Put up your feet," she murmured, "and I will bring you my hangover special."

Obediently, she stretched out on the couch and watched Cleo hurry down the hall toward the back of the apartment. Cleo's hangover special, whatever it was. couldn't be any worse than the feel of Cleo's fingers against her flesh. And for a moment Lee wondered if she would ever be the same again. If ever again she would chase a behind down the street just because she liked the shape of it. Or whether she would spend the rest of her life looking for Maggie. Looking... and not finding her.

In a moment Cleo reappeared with a tall glass of grayish liquid. She sat down beside Lee and held it out to her.

Lee's nose wrinkled up at the smell of it. "What the hell is it?" she croaked.

"Clam juice with bicarbonate of soda," Cleo intoned like a druggist explaining a prescription. "It sounds sickening, but it will get rid of the hangover."

Lee drank it down without letting herself think about the ingredients. If it made her sick enough, she could curl up in a corner and go to sleep. Then she would not have to touch Cleo or make love to her.

For one dangerous moment, the concoction stayed in her throat, not sure of which way to run. Then it went down smoothly.

"See?" Cleo said after a moment. "Already your eyes are blue again instead of red."

Despite herself, Lee laughed. And Cleo was right. Already her stomach had stopped sloshing around between her ribs. She took the cigarette Cleo held out to her and dragged the smoke deep into her lungs.

Cleo set the empty glass on the rug. She turned then and snuggled down beside Lee on the wide couch.

Lee took her hand and held it limply. She did not want that hand roaming over her. Not yet.