The Happiest Day (11 page)

In June of 1923,
the family headed for vacation in South Carolina.  Norris had bought a beach
home on Myrtle Beach.  He had gone to South Carolina on business the year
before and had toured the up and coming beach community.  He had arranged for a
home to be built there, envisioning family summers filled with memory-making
days.  Peter and Bert could only get away from work for a week but Rachel was
happy for the time she would get to spend with them.  Her relationship with
Maryanne was back on solid ground and she cherished time she spent with little
Alan.  The beach home had five bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a wrap-around
porch.  It was a home built for a family.

Upon arrival,
Rachel immediately changed into her new swimsuit.  It was a two-piece outfit
consisting of a white jersey shirt, navy blue flannel trousers that ended just
above her knee and a white belt.  After changing Alan, Maryanne put on her one
piece suit consisting of a black satin frock with knickers.  They felt very
chic and very daring.  The men, excluding Norris, all wore knee length shorts
with tank tops.

They set up
umbrellas and blankets and settled back to enjoy the summer breeze and the
sound of the surf.  Norris sat on a lounge chair, not willing to change from
his white linen slacks and shirt, reading a local newspaper.  Laurie and Geoff
headed for the water while Maryanne kept a close eye on her son as he played in
the sand.

“Daddy, this was
the best idea,” she called over to Norris.  “I think I’ll stay all summer.”

Norris looked over
his newspaper.  “You’re more than welcome to stay the summer, darling.  When I
built this house, I hoped the family would want to spend a lot of time here.”

“Could you live
without me all summer, Bert?” Maryanne asked with a laugh.

“Hey, if you’re
staying, I’m staying,” Bert answered, stretching out on a blanket, crossing his
arms under his head.  “Mac, can you cover for me this summer?”

Peter dropped on
the blanket next to Rachel.  “Haven’t I been covering for you for years?”

“Hey!” Bert
protested.  “So, is that a yes or a no?”

Peter threw a look
at Rachel.  “Why do I get the sinking feeling that he’s serious?”

Rachel laughed. 
“Not everyone is as dedicated to work as you are.”

“Norris is,” he
said softly and nodded to his step-father who was making marks in the
newspaper.

Rachel watched her
husband for a moment, and then turned back to Peter.  “Work is his life.  I
guess, though, if he wasn’t like this, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“True.”

“Why didn’t
Blanche come?”

“I didn’t invite
her.  She would have just made everyone miserable.”

“Am I a horrible
person for saying that I’m glad she’s not here?”

“The worst.  I’m
ashamed of you.”  He lay back on the blanket.  “Come on, Spider, relax with
me.”

Her relationship
with Peter had grown deeper and into something she wasn’t willing to define.  He
and Norris appeared to have found peace with each other and he continued to
visit the estate almost every day when not tied up in a case.  Peter was overt
in his concern for her and often asked her if she was happy.  She didn’t know
how to explain to him that, in some ways, she had never been happier.  She knew
he had feelings for her, maybe even loved her.  He had obeyed the boundaries
she had set on their relationship but there were times that she ached so badly
for him, she could barely breathe.  She thought that her life was very
strange.  She was married to a man who no longer was interested in touching her
and in love with a man who had no right to touch her.  She didn’t indulge
herself in fantasies of being with Peter because she felt that there was no
reason to dream of things she couldn’t, or shouldn’t have.

He looked at her
now, quizzically.  “Relax, dear.”

She lay back with
him, shielding her eyes from the sun by placing her arm over her face.  She
listened to the sounds of summer and the sounds of family.  She could hear Alan
squealing and laughing, Maryanne’s gentle voice as she interacted with him.  Bert’s
deeper voice floated across the sand as he abandoned his blanket to help them
build a sand castle.  In the distance, she heard Laurie and Geoff’s teenage
voices, maturing into men’s tones, as they roughhoused in the waves.  The
occasional rustle of paper let her know that Norris still sat near her, his
attention focused on the layout and content of the newspaper.

Then she blocked
out all of the sounds to focus on the man next to her.  She could smell his
unique male essence, hear his even breathing, and feel the hair on his arm
brushing hers lightly.  She felt an incredible sense of well being and the hurt
of the past two years began to float away on the ocean breeze.  She turned her
head and could feel that her lips lay just millimeters from Peter’s salty
shoulder.  She inhaled deeply, and then opened her eyes.

Peter’s eyes were
opened as well and they held eye contact for what seemed an eternity.  His hand
slid over on the blanket and touched hers.  She moved her fingers slightly and
his lips turned up a bit of the corners.  His eyes closed and he turned his
head back to the original position.  Rachel followed suit.

“Do you ever read
Poe?” Peter asked surprisingly.

“He’s not my
style,” she answered.  “Too dark, too sad.  Real life is sad enough.”

“He wrote a poem
when he was a young man called
The Happiest Day
.  Ever heard of it?”

“No.  What is it
about?”

“Poe talks about
the emotional downfall after you experience your happiest moment.  He said that
the higher you fly, the harder you fall.”

“That’s sad.”

“I think about
that poem a lot.  Every time I wish things could be better, be happier, I
remember Poe’s words.  Maybe it’s a good thing that happiness seems to elude
this family.”

“Peter…don’t say
that.  I’m happy right now.”

“Are you?”

“I am.  In fact,
this is
my
happiest day.”

He was silent for
a long time and she thought he may have fallen asleep.  He squeezed her
fingers, though, and said, “I agree, Spider.  This is my happiest day, too,
because I’m here with you.”

They spent the day
on the beach then fixed a big dinner with plenty of wine flowing.  There was
laughter and music and Rachel often found Peter’s eyes on her.  He possessed an
intensity tonight that was overwhelming to her.  She began to feel flushed, and
pushed away the wine glass, blaming it for the powerful feelings coursing
through her veins.  Norris went to bed around ten o’clock, kissing her gently
on the forehead.

“Come to bed
whenever you like, my sweet.  You know how heavily I sleep.  You won’t bother
me.”

She nodded and
smiled up at him, hating the charade they had to play.  They couldn’t avoid
sharing a room, but she knew that Norris would sleep on the chaise lounge.

Maryanne retired
as well, needing to nurse the baby and put him down for the night.  Bert
enjoyed a cigar with Peter on the dark porch then left to join his wife. 
Around midnight, Laurie and Geoff couldn’t stifle their yawns and Peter
encouraged them to go to bed.  “We have a week,” he told them.  “We don’t have
to cram everything into one night.”

They acquiesced
and left Peter and Rachel alone on the large porch and she felt a strange
thrill when he stubbed out his cigar and stared at her.  His white linen shirt
was stark against his suntanned chest, his forearms strong below the rolled up
sleeves.

“Have I told you
how beautiful you look tonight?”

“I don’t think
so,” she responded in a light, teasing voice.

The air was
charged between them with an electricity Rachel hadn’t felt for many months. 
“Come here,” he ordered lightly.  She remembered his words a few months ago
that if she came to him, all promises were null and void.  She knew that her
future hung in the balance of this very moment.

 She moved, as if
in a dream, over to the porch swing where he sat and he pulled her gently down
to him, drawing her against his body, under the crook of his arm.

“I think I drank
too much wine,” she said, barely recognizing her voice.  She realized with a
start that she was slick and warm between her legs.  She felt a flush working
its way down her body and she knew that a dangerous situation was forming.

“I think we both
did,” he said, and lowered her face into her hair.  “You smell like salt water
and sunshine.”

“Are you trying to
be poetic?”

He moved his lips
to the shell of her ear and whispered, “
Grow old along with me.  The best is
yet to be…
Browning had a way with words, didn’t he?”  His lips nuzzled her
ear.  “Should I continue?”

She turned to look
him in the face straight on, wanting to ask him what was going to happen next. 
Had Norris been right?  Had this all been a game with the reward being Peter’s
seduction of her?  Did he love her?  If they made love, how would they look at
each other in the morning?

“Rae,” he said,
tilting her chin up, with a smile.  “You’re thinking too hard.  The first rule
of love-making is to turn off your brain.”

“Is that what this
is?”  Her voice trembled.

“That’s what this
has been since we were on the blanket on the beach and you looked at me.”

“I don’t know if
this is right…”

“Stop thinking,”
he ordered gently.

“How do I do
that?”

“Just feel.”  He
ran his hands through her hair.  “Close your eyes, just feel.  Tell me what
feels good.”  He massaged through her hair.  “Do you like this?”

“Mm, yes.”  She
tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering shut.

His hands moved to
her throat and he stroked it lovingly, and then pressed his lips to where her
pulse beat a rapid tattoo.  “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” she cried,
her voice breaking a little.

His hands came up
to cup her breasts.  “This?”

“Oh, God…”

He continued the
sensual assault on her and she felt herself melting in his arms.  He hauled her
up against him and buried his face in her hair. “I want to take you to my bed. 
Will you come with me?”

She only nodded,
afraid to talk.  He stood and held his hand out to her which she took
willingly.  He led her through the house, turning off lights as he went.  They
entered his room and he locked the door behind them.  It was dark in his room, but
the light of the moon shone in through the window, allowing them to see each
other a little.  They simply stood and stared.

“I’d like to take your
dress off,” he said several moments later.  “May I?”

“Yes, as long as I
can take your shirt off.”  She smiled a little, the dimple deepening just a
bit.

His heart jumped
and he knew then that she had set aside any reservations.  She was his for the
night.  He couldn’t even remember when he started wanting her—maybe even before
he even knew it.  All he knew was that he couldn’t survive without her in his
life.

“Be my guest,
sweetheart.”  He held his arms out in mock surrender.  “Undress away.”

Her fingers flew
down the buttons of his shirt and she pushed it off of his shoulders.  “Oh,
it’s nice,” she breathed, running her hands over his chest.

“You’ve seen me
without a shirt before,” he reminded her.  “We’ve swam together more time than
I can count.”

“This is hardly
the same,” she laughed.  “I wasn’t allowed to touch you like this.  You’re so
strong...so hard…”

Her words seem to
take the breath from him and he said in a weak voice, “Woman, you are going to
make me lose control.”

One by one, their
clothes fell to the floor and when she stood only in her underwear, he scooped
her up in his arms and carried her to his bed.  He continued to worship her
body with his mouth and his hands, shocking her when he placed his mouth
between her legs.

“No,” she cried
without conviction, waves of pleasure rolling over her.

“Yes,” he
insisted.  “When will you learn to trust me?”

“I’ll be quiet, I
promise,” she said with a breathless laugh.

“I wish you didn’t
have to be.  I want you to scream and moan and anything else you want to do,
but we need to be careful.”  The lash of his tongue elicited an immediate moan
from her and she laid her arm over her mouth to stifle the sounds.

When he lifted his
body up to cover hers, he pressed his lips to hers comfortingly.  “What’s your
pleasure?  Gentle or hard?”

She laughed and
pressed her hands through his hair to cup the base of his skull.  “It doesn’t
matter.  Just make me yours.”

His eyes darkened
and he thrust into her.  They moved together, their sweat slickened skin
sliding against each other, building an intense friction.  Their foreplay had
been building all day so neither of them lasted longer than a few minutes.  She
felt him losing control first and it excited her so much she arched against
him, shattering and crying out loudly.  He brought a hand up, covering her
mouth with it to prevent waking anyone else in the house.

“Oh God, Rachel,”
he moaned into her ear, thrusting into her one last time.  Rachel felt his hot
seed spill into her and she linked her arms and legs around him, never wanting
to let go.  He had cried her name, something her husband had never been able to
do.

When their
heartbeats returned to normal, she whispered, “Was I too loud?  Do you think
anyone heard us?”

“I think everyone
is asleep.  We should be fine.”

Two doors down,
Norris sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes blank.

The next morning,
Rachel rose before Norris.  He had been restless all night, tossing and turning
on the chaise lounge, but now he slept heavily.  She dressed in a light-weight
white dress and pulled her hair back in a ribbon.  Glancing at herself in a
mirror, she couldn’t help but notice that her skin was glowing and her eyes
held a sparkle that hadn’t been there for months, if ever.  She saw a small
mark high on her neck and hurriedly pulled down a piece of hair to cover it.

The glimmer in her
eyes died.  She was an adulteress.  There was no turning back from last night. 
Even if she could, she wasn’t sure that she would.

She slipped out of
the bedroom noiselessly and padded into the kitchen.  She poured herself a
glass of orange juice and opened the sliding glass door to step out on the
porch.  The smell of salt hair hit her and she inhaled deeply.  A soft, warm
breeze was blowing and she felt the loose lock of hair move and she reached up
self-consciously.  She would have to tell Peter to be more careful next time. 
Next
time.
  If she returned to his bed, she was accepting that this had not just
been one night fueled by the romance of the beach and a few glasses of wine. 
She was choosing an affair.

“Hey.”

She looked over
her shoulder.  It was Geoff.  “Good morning.  You’re up early.  Did you sleep
well?”

“Like a rock,” he
affirmed.  He sat down on the nearest patio chair and lifted his legs to rest
on the porch railing.

Rachel studied the
young man who been as close as a brother to her.  He looked so much like his
father, but had the youth and vitality that was absent in Norris.  He had a
charismatic personality, drawing people to him like a moth to light.  Rachel
wondered what his future held.

“So, you’re
finished with school.”  She sat down next to him.  “You must be pretty happy
about that.”

He shrugged.  “I
guess.  I’ll miss my friends at school, though.  I’m thinking about going back
to Boston for college.  I applied to Harvard Business School and I was
accepted.  I just haven’t told Dad, though.”

“He’d be proud of
you.”

“I’m not so sure
about that.  He was pretty sure that I was going to go to school at home and
work for him.  I don’t think he’ll like that I did something without telling
him first.”  The breeze ruffled his blond hair.  “Can I talk to you about
something?”

“Of course.”

“Is Dad O.K.?”

“What do you
mean?  His health?”

“I guess.  It’s
just that he seems to be under a lot of stress.  I mean, he’s always worked
hard but when he was with us, he would relax a bit.  Now, he just seems unhappy
most of the time.”

Rachel stared into
her glass of juice, unsure of how to answer him.  “I…I don’t think that our
marriage has turned out like he thought it would,” she finally answered
truthfully.

Geoff made a
little sound, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.  “Of course it isn’t.  I
don’t know what he was thinking when he did it.  You’re like a daughter to
him.”  He threw her a look filled with scrutiny.  “I know that you two weren’t
having an affair before Mother died.  What I can’t figure out is why you agreed
to lie.”

She was silent for
a long time.  “Your father saved me once, Geoff.  I owed him the same.”

He dropped his
legs and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his head down. 
“What were you saving him from, Rae?” he asked quietly, his tone hesitant.

She was taken
aback.  “He…well, you know.  He was being accused of killing your mother and
Frederick.”

He looked up at
her, his eyes serious.  “Did he?”

“No,” she lied
firmly.  “Geoff, everything was as he said.  Please don’t re-open this wound. 
We’re all trying to heal.”

“I wouldn’t blame
you for anything.  I just need to know the truth.”

“I’m telling you
the truth,” she said, amazed at easily she lied.

They were
interrupted then by Maryanne, coming out on the porch with the baby.  The rest
of the family filtered out and they began another sun-filled day at the beach. 
When Peter appeared and squeezed the back of her neck with his hand as he
passed by, everything else fell away and she quickly forgot Geoff’s questions.  It
would not be long before Rachel would regret that conversation with Geoff.  Later
in life, when she had time to think about it, she realized if she had only told
him the truth on that day, the events of the next few weeks may have never
happened.  Geoff’s need to expose the truth about what had happened to his
mother would cause a series of tragic events from which the family would find
difficult to recover from.