That Camden Summer (34 page)

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This was what they'd been waiting for all day, this moment of reaching, touching, tasting once again with his head bowed over hers. It was immediate, that first kiss, and earned by a long day's wait. They were eager and ardent from the instant they touched, roused by their hours of anticipation and the inky intimacy of the shadows beneath the porch roof. However inhibited Gabriel Farley was in the light of day, he shed his inhibitions on the privacy of that porch swing. The kisses Roberta had missed during the waning years of her marriage she received over and over in a roundelay of sweet repetition. A mosquito came and bit her ankle right through her cotton stocking and she tucked her legs up, covering her feet with her skirt, relinquishing none of the sweet suckling hold she had on Gabe's mouth. It was open above hers, his breath beating against her cheek, and his hand on her back stretching everything - her sweater, her dress, her skin - making flat circles that substituted for more intimate caresses.

There were questions rapping at her harried heart and she tore her mouth free to ask them.

"How long since you've done this?" "Since Caroline."

"How many years?" " Seven. "

"George stopped kissing me years ago, unless he wanted money. It got so I hated it with him ... but I missed it ... oh, I missed it."

They kissed again, making up for lost time, curling against each other with an impatient

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embrace. Then two mosquitoes bit him at once

- one on his neck, another on his wrist. He shook off one and slapped the other and said against her lips, "Let's go in, Roberta."

"No, I can't."

"We'll be quiet. Nobody will know."

"I'll know. You'll know. And I won't give this town the satisfaction."

He drew back his head and said., "But that's silly. All we're going to do is stand behind the living room screen door where the mosquitoes can)t get at us. I promise. That's all we're going to do. "

"I can't, Gabriel. If I weren't divorced it would be different, but that's just what the town expects me to do - take men into my house at night when my girls are sleeping."

Another stinger sank into his jaw. He hit and missed it and said, "Then go get a blanket." "Oh, Gabriel, you can't be serious." He

could hear the makings of a chuckle in her tone. But just then she killed a mosquito on her face.

"Roberta, this is just damned ridiculous. Go get one. "

Dropping her feet off the swing she said, "All right, I will."

He sat there slapping mosquitoes while she tiptoed across the porch, opened the door without making a peep, disappeared and returned as noiselessly as she'd gone.

"Here," she whispered, flinging the blanket as she resumed her place beside him.

"Where did you have to go to get it?" he

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asked, flipping and settling it until he got it just right.

"Clear upstairs in my bedroom." "Think they heard you?"

"I don't care if they did. I have a right to sit here on my own front porch swing, don't P" He chuckled and got them situated to his

liking with the blanket shrouding all but their heads.

"Hey I like this," he murmured-, slipping a hand beneath her arm, narrowly missing her breast. "Come here."

There are ways to combat modesty and yet maintain it ... and he found them, leaning back into a comer of the swing and dragging her with him until their limbs were stretched and aligned like the folds of the blanket that covered them. One six-minute kiss later, when their mouths were getting tender, and the mosquitoes had found their bare faces, and his empty hand could be denied no longer, he flipped the blanket over their heads, and there in a tent of total darkness where the scent of his bay rum consorted with that of her almond cream, she scolded, "Gabriel!" And giggled.

"Shh . . . " he whispered, and cupped her breast. And stopped her breath for that singular moment 3 then started it again ... faster.

Five minutes later their mouths were swollen and so were some other strategic parts, when a voice outside their blanket said, "Mother? Is that you under there?"

Gabe and Roberta turned to a couple of pillars of clay. Only these pillars looked like they were

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half-carved and the sculptor had gone to lunch. There they sat - well, lay, actually - two bumps beneath a dark blanket, like half-finished works of art. From the outside it appeared to Rebecca that her mother was trying to push herself up and pretend she hadn't been lying against Mr. Farley's open legs, because one of hers was hanging in midair as she struggled against gravity.

"Mr. Farley? Is that you, too?"

There was some whispering under the blanket, and the four legs managed to untangle. The two bodies managed to square themselves side by side, and finally Roberta lifted the blanket far enough to peep out. Rebecca had turned on the living room light and its distant rays picked out two very messy heads of hair and four eyes that peered out sheepishly, like a pair of raccoons caught in the headlights.

"Yes, Rebecca?" her thirty-six-year-old mother said, striving for dignity where there was none. "Mother? V7hat in the world are you doing under there!

"Talking. "

Some embarrassing seconds ticked by before Gabriel jumped into the gap.

"Ah . . the mosquitoes," he explained lamely, folding back the blanket.

"Well, why don't you come in the house?" Rebecca said sensibly. "There are no mosquitoes in there. "

"Good idea," Farley said, and peeled Roberta's skirt off his left pantleg. "Let's go in the house, Roberta.

He had no idea she was on the verge of breaking up until her laughter escaped her pinched lips and sent up a "Pppppppt!" like a draft horse breaking wind. When she started laughing, he couldn't help himself and started, too.

Rebecca grew indignant and planted her fists on her hips. "Mother, for heaven's sake, get in the house right this minute before the neighbors see you out here with that ridiculous blanket over your heads! Good Lord, a person would think the two of you were twelve years old!"

She slammed in the house-, cranked off the light and left the two on the porch laughing with two fistfuls of blanket pressed to their mouths. Roberta was so breathless she could scarcely get the words out.

"Oh, Gabe ... oh my word ... if we get married ... we'll have to tell this story to o'.'ur grandchildren. Oh, Gabe ... you should have s-seen yours-self coming out from under that blanket. "

He rubbed his hair with one big paw, leaving it worse than before. "Oh, well, what the hell. They know anyway."

She laughed some more, then sat beside him until her breathing leveled off. She hooked both hands over the edge of the swing seat and glanced at Gabe on her right. "Let's say good night. We're too old for this anyway."

"Too old for what?" he said suggestively. She whispered, "Not for that. just for this." She rose, taking a tail end of the blanket along. It was pinned under his butt, and he hauled away

until it towed her back to him. She dropped one knee onto the swing seat and fell against him, their momentum sending them and the swing backward. His wide hands caught her high around the ribs, his thumbs just beneath her breasts.

"Marry me, Roberta," he said seriously, lifting his face as she looked down on him.

He had made a true effort to please her, and she liked the change, the way he had come a-courtin', as she'd said she wanted - on a porch swing under a blanket, no less. And he'd loosened up a great deal where Isobel was concerned, and certainly the girls were in favor of their courtship. But courtship was one thing and everyday life was another - with mothers, and brothers-in-law, and ladies' societies.

"Maybe," she replied, and kissed him good night.

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OWARD dawn the next morning, Roberta had a nightmare about the rape. She

Tawakened herself with a scream and gained consciousness to find that she was cowering against the headboard, sweating and weeping, her heart driving like a ramrod in her chest.

Rebecca came tearing around the comer from her bedroom, wearing a wrinkled nightdress, terrified out of a sound sleep.

"Mother, what's wrong!" "Oh, Becky ... oh... oh

Rebecca flew to the bed and held Roberta fast. "Were you dreaming?"

"It was terrible." Roberta's voice shook as she clutched her daughter. "It was Elfred again, doing that awful thing to me, only just before he did it he ... he lifted his head and it was Gabriel, not Elfred, and I was so heartbroken that he had deceived me and that he wasn't the kind of man I thought he was, and I kept trying to fight him off, and I was pushing at him and telling him he was a liar, only I couldn't get the words out. Oh, Becky, it was just terrible."

Becky petted Roberta's hair and kept her close. Her own heart was banging as if she'd had the nightmare herself.

"It was just a dream-, Mother. Look, it's almost dawn and the girls are still asleep, and

everything's just wonderful. Don't be afraid." Roberta began to calm, and her grip slackened. "Why would I dream such a thing about Gabriel?"

Becky sat back, capturing her mother's hands, rubbing her thumbs across Roberta's knuckles. "I don't know, but last night you were sitting

on the swing with him and it didn't look to me like you were trying to fight him off at all. " "Oh goodness . . . " Roberta glanced at the

window. Pale lavender dawn was flowing over the scarred sill, and the lacework of leaves lay motionless on the branches of a maple tree outside. As she remembered the previous night, her terror subsided and her heartbeat slowed. "You were very displeased with us."

"Not really. You woke me up, creeping upstairs to get that blanket, I suppose. Then I lay there wondering why you were up so late and if you were okay. I just couldn't believe it when I looked out on the porch and saw you two with that blanket over your heads. But I'm not displeased with you, not really. I'm happy you've got Mr. Farley."

"Really?" "Why wouldn't I be when you're so happy yourself?"

"I am, aren't 1?"

"He's given you a wonderful summer, given us all a wonderful summer, actually - our first Camden summer, filled with so many good memories. I think you should marry him, Mother."

"He asked me again last night."

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"Are you going to do it?"

"I suppose I am, eventually."

"I keep thinking about how safe you'll be with him, then men like Uncle Elfred can't hurt you, and the gossips of this town will have to find somebody else to whisper about. And I've been thinking a lot about how pretty soon Susan and Lydia and I will be all grown-up, and when we find husbands and move away from home you'll be so lonely. I'd love knowing that you were with Mr. Farley. And at holidays we'd all come home - we three and Isobel, too - and imagine what a good time we'll have. Coming back to Camden for another seaside summer, probably with a whole mess of babies. Oh, Mother, you've got to marry him., you've just got to. "

Roberta took her daughter in a loose embrace. She was totally calm now her heart welling with appreciation for this remarkable young woman whose loving and caring attributes made her truly special.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Becky?"

"Of course you have."

"Well., let me tell you again." She kissed Becky's cheek, hard. "I love you, Becky,, light of my life. I don't know what I'd have done without you these last two years. The older you get, the dearer you get."

Becky looked squarely into her mother's eyes and said very simply, "Marry Mr. Farley, Mother. I think you love him more than You know, and sometimes you can be too

independent for your own good."

"Can I now?" Roberta chided good-naturedly, tipping her head.

"Yes, you can ... so think about it." Becky got up and padded barefoot toward the doorway. Reaching it, she paused and said over her shoulder, "Besides, if you marry him you two won't have to kiss under a blanket on the porch swing anymore. You can come in the house where you belong."

Less than one hour later, Roberta called Gabe on the telephone.

"Good morning, Gabriel," she greeted.

"Wh . . . " His surprise was evident even before he said so. "Why, this is a surprise."

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, I was up having my coffee, getting set to go to work."

"Did you sleep well?"

He cleared his throat. "Actually, no, I didn't, Roberta. "

"Oh?" she said, dropping an undertone of flirtatiousness into the single syllable. "Why's that?"

He chuckled deep in his throat and the sound prompted pleasant shivers up her trunk.

She laughed with him, and for a while the operator had only silence to listen in on.

"I've been thinking," Roberta went on, "there's a Boston troupe at the Opera House tonight. They're doing an Oscar Wilde play and

I promised the girls I'd take them. Would you and Isobel want to come along?"

"Oscar Wilde?" Gabe said.

" Th e Imp ortan ce of Being Eam es t. "Oh."

She could tell he knew nothing about Oscar Wilde or his plays.

"Have you ever been before?"

"To a play? Ah ... no, no I haven't."

She smiled and imagined him feeling out of his element. "It's all right, Gabriel. I haven't built any porches or grown any rosebushes., but that's not saying we both can't learn."

In his silence she recognized a return of the concupiscence between them and wished

- amazing herself suddenly - that he were there, that she could see him even if only briefly, be kissed by him and feel the vibrancy of his presence, be cleansed by it and lose the shadings that remained from her nightmare. Tonight seemed such a long time to wait.

"Gabriel? What do you say?" "I'm willing to give it a try. "

She smiled and felt young. And energized. And impatient!

"Gabriel?" she said, realizing that romantic longing is not reserved for only the very young. "What, Roberta?"

"Tonight seems a very long time away."

She had a hectic schedule at work that day, with plenty of medical tasks to occupy her mind. But

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Gabriel occupied it, too, in spite of the diversity of her chores.