I looked at Robert, who shrugged.
"I guess we'll help Mrs. Royce," he said and we all laughed.
It was a wonderful afternoon. I never thought I would enjoy working so much. They wanted me to stay for dinner, but I didn't think it would be right on such short notice. I explained how I usually helped my mother make dinner and should be getting home.
Despite all the restoration work ahead of them, the Royces were happy and confident. The
atmosphere of camaraderie, the sense of partnership among them, made me envious.
Robert's parents seemed so much younger than mine and so much more relaxed. I felt their love for each other and how concerned they were for each other's happiness. No wonder Robert has such a warm and hopeful personality, I thought.
"Well," he said as we drove away, "I warned you my mother was a character."
"I love her, Robert. She's great."
"Yeah, I guess I'm lucky," he said. "And now," he added, looking at me, "I'm even luckier."
Because the school year was approaching its end, studying for exams and preparing our last projects was very important. Although Robert and I didn't share any classes, we thought it might be fun to study together. For that purpose, he came to my house the following Saturday. I had already told my mother and mentioned it to Daddy just before Robert was due to arrive. Daddy and May were playing a game of checkers in the living room at the time. He paused and turned to me.
"Seems youre becoming the talk of the town, you and your boyfriend, Laura," Daddy said.
"No we're not, Daddy." I started to laugh at the idea. "Grandma Olivia thinks so," he added. "You know how all the news worms its way up to her."
"I know." I grimaced in expectation of what Grandma Olivia had told him.
"Maybe you're getting a little too serious too fast," Daddy suggested.
"I'm not, really, Daddy."
"Everyone's expecting you'll go off to college, Laura. Not many Logans have. Your mother tells me you've shown some interest in becoming a teacher."
"I will become a teacher, Daddy."
"Lots of girls make plans and then meet someone and lose their heads, Laura," he warned.
"I'm not lots of girls, Daddy. I'm me," I said.
He nodded, his eyes softening. Daddy never liked chastising me and on more than one occasion, Cary suffered because of that. Poor Cary was always blamed for things we did together, no matter how much I protested and defended him. Daddy believed because Cary was a boy, he should be more responsible.
Once, when we were only ten and we had gone down to the beach at night and gotten ourselves soaked, he took the strap to Cary. I shouted and cried outside the door to Cary's room. Afterward, I went in and put some soothing cream on his welts. He never cried nor complained and when I did, moaning that I should have gotten at least half of the beating, he looked at me and said, "What for, Laura? I can bear it for both of us. I'm happy to take your half."
Because Cary was always so devoted to me, it was hard seeing him upset and angry now. I felt like a rubber band being stretched from both sides, fearful I would soon snap. I wanted Cary to be happy, too; but I wasn't willing to make myself and Robert unhappy in the process. I was hoping Cary would accept Robert soon and we would all be happy together.
Daddy said no more about my relationship with Robert and he didn't oppose our studying together at the house. Cary didn't say anything nasty about Robert coming over, as I thought he might, so I asked him if he wanted to study with us.
"I'm not going to waste my time on that," he replied. "It's not a waste of time, Cary, I know you're not doing well in some of your classes."
"What of it? I'm not going to college. You are. I'll be working with Dad in our business, where I belong," he snapped.
"You know you want to build boats, Cary. It would be good for you to go to college and take some courses in engineering and design."
"I don't need to sit in some stuffy college classroom full of snobby kids just to learn what I already know," he said. He did know an awful lot about boats. He had never had reading difficulties when it came to that, and there wasn't a boat, a design, or a concept of which he wasn't aware. Daddy was proud of the way Cary could hold his own in a discussion about our boat or about sailing whenever Daddy's friends were around. Some of them even took to asking Cary for advice.
"If you change your mind--"
"I won't," he declared. "I have things to do at the dock."
Robert had to work until after lunch, but around two-thirty, he drove up. I was waiting for him on the front stoop. Mommy and May had gone into town to do some shopping.
"Hi," he said, getting out quickly, his books and notebooks under his arm. We exchanged a quick kiss. "I hated leaving; there's still so much work to do, but my mother practically threw me out. So," he said, "where shall we go?"
"Up to my room," I said. I had been planning on studying there and had my own work set out. "We'll be less distracted. It's too beautiful today and if we stay out here, we won't get a thing done."
It was one of those warm days when the breeze seemed like lips gently brushing my cheeks and the clouds hung lazily under a turquoise sky. The sea conspired with the golden sand to tempt me into daydreams, beckoning with its soft spray and dazzling whitecaps.
"Good idea," he said, his eyes full of more love and devotion than an ocean could hold.
I had never had a boy in my room before. Just the idea of it put butterflies in my stomach. We paused when we entered the foyer.
"Your mother's not home?"
"She took May shopping. My father and Cary are down at the dock."
"Oh." He looked embarrassed, shy about being with me in my empty house.
I took his hand.
"Come on," I said. "We've got a lot to do."
I led him upstairs and into my room. I had made the room spotless, polishing and cleaning all morning. Twice, Cary had looked in with a dark expression of disapproval on his face.
"This is a nice room," Robert said. He entered and looked at my posters of rock and movie stars. "Who gave you all these?" he asked, indicating the shelves crowded with stuffed animals and ceramic dolls. There was a collection of ceramic and pewter cats on one shelf as well.
"Daddy, Mommy, and Cary, for birthdays, special occasions," I replied. He smiled at the small table with a miniature tea set and a big doll in a chair.
"You don't still play with this, do you?" he teased.
"Sometimes. With May," I added.
He laughed and approached my canopy bed.
"Looks very comfortable."
"You can sit on it," I said and he did, bouncing and smiling.
The bedding, comforter, and pillows all matched the mauve shade of the canopy, and at the center of the two fluffy pillows was a large stuffed cat. He reached out to pet it.
"It looks so real, I had to be sure," he said.
I went to my desk, where I had an open notebook beside a pile of school textbooks.
"I've been going over my history notes."
He got up quickly and looked over my shoulder.
"I got an A in that class," he brat ted, "but don't ask me anything now. It went in and then out again."
We both laughed.
"Nice view," he said, walking toward the open window beside my bed.
"We came up here to get away from all that," I reminded him gently.
"Right, right."
"You can have that chair," I said, pointing to the one beside the desk.
"Thank you, Miss Logan," he said with a short bow. He sat and opened his math book.
"I hate these formulas," he muttered, but didn't lift his eyes from the page.
We both worked silently. Occasionally we would look up, our gazes would meet, and we would smile and look down again quickly.
"Would you like something cold to drink?" I offered, after finishing a section of notes.
"Sure."
"Cranberry juice okay?"
"Fine," he said.<
br />
"I'll be right back."
I hurried out and down the stairs, put ice cubes in the glasses, and brought them back up filled with our homemade cranberry juice. Robert was lying on my bed, his hands behind his head, gazing up at the canopy when I returned. I paused, smiling.
"Sorry," he said, sitting up guiltily. "It just looked so inviting."
"No, it's all right." I handed him his juice.
"It's good," he said.
I sat beside him and drank my own.
"Why do they make us take final exams just when it gets so beautiful outside? It's cruel," he said and I laughed.
"It's the end of the school year, Robert. What do you expect?"
"A little more consideration," he kidded.
We gazed at each other. I felt my heart begin to pound as he leaned closer and closer until our lips met.
"I've been wanting to do that for the last hour," he said.
"Me, too."
He took the glass from my hand and put it along with his own on the nightstand. Then he turned to me and we kissed again, this time embracing. I let myself fall back slowly, gently, and he lay down beside me, stroking my hair, kissing my cheeks.
"You're on my mind day and night," he said. "You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I close my eyes to sleep. On the days we don't see each other I hate the hours until we do."
He kissed me again, this time his hands moving over my shoulders. He brought his lips to my neck, and it was like electricity had exploded from inside my heart, speeding through every vein, to the tips of my toes and back up to my heart again. I took his head in my hands and kissed his hair while he moved his lips down, over my collarbone, unbuttoning the first and second buttons on my blouse, and then kissing the tops of my breasts, unbuttoning another button and another until he could peel away my blouse.
I let him unfasten my bra and lift it away so he could bring his lips to my tingling nipples. I should stop him, I thought, but I didn't. He moaned my name and his hands moved over my thighs and lifted my skirt so he could press his palms to my thighs. I put my own hands over them and held his there.
"Laura, Laura," he whispered, "I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Robert."
I let his hands go and they moved to my panties. My heart felt like a clenched fist, pounding at the inside of my chest as if it wanted to get out. When his hands moved over my hipbone and down, I uttered a small cry.
When I was younger and read novels in which girls were seduced or went too far, I swore I would never be like them, no matter how handsome the boy or how much I thought I loved him. How, I wondered, could your body make you do things you didn't want to do? How could any pleasure be so great that you would disregard all your warnings to yourself and surrender? Yet that was what was happening to me. I was moving faster and faster toward the point of no return, that moment when I would be like a swimmer who had gone out too far and was now at the mercy of the waves.
It was like one wave after another, one overwhelming, undulating sensation after another, sweeping me away from the shore of caution.
"Robert," I pleaded, "if we don't stop, we won't stop."
"I can't help wanting you, Laura."
"We're not ready yet, Robert. Let's be ready. Please," I pleaded, knowing if he refused, if he kissed me one more time or touched me one more time, I would simply fall back and throw caution to the wind.
He held his breath and then pulled back. I lay there, breathless. Robert stepped off the bed and closed his pants. I hadn't even realized he had unzipped them.
Suddenly, I heard a deep, long creak in the ceiling and my heart stopped.
"Wait," I said, pulling him back under the canopy.
"What?" He studied my face. "Do you want me to--"
"No, no, just be quiet for a minute," I ordered.
"What?" He smiled with confusion. "Why?"
There was another creak and then another, then . . . footsteps.
"Cary's upstairs," I said in a low voice.
Robert's eyes widened.
"Huh? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know he was there."
"I never heard him come in and go upstairs, Laura. And your door's open. We would have seen him go by, wouldn't we? Or," he added with a dreadful pause, "he went by while we were. . . occupied."
"No, he must have been there the whole time, Robert. We would have heard him coming in and up the steps. Those steps creak so loud it sounds like Cary might step right through them sometimes."
Robert shook his head.
"I don't understand. I thought no one was home. You said--"
"I guess he came back when I was outside waiting for you."
"So?" Robert said, shrugging after another moment's thought. "He's been upstairs. What of it? No harm done. We'll just get back to the books." He smiled.
How could I explain? How could I tell him about the peephole in the ceiling, when I couldn't face Cary about it myself? Now I had to, I thought. More than ever, now I had to.
"But first," Robert said, "I'd better cool off." He went into the bathroom.
I rose and went to my doorway, listening. Cary was as silent as a ghost now.
"Okay," Robert said, emerging, "let's get back at it."
I looked once more at the attic doorway and then I returned to my desk.
We did study and talked and studied some more. We made plans for the summer months, and Robert talked about his college plans, his desire to become an architect. His drawings were all over the bulletin boards in the art classroom.
"Actually, you and Cary have a lot more in common than Cary wants to admit," I said. "I bet you could design a boat he would like."
"Maybe. I would for the fun of it, if I didn't think he would bite my head off," Robert said.
"He won't. He and I are going to have a real heart-to-heart talk," I promised.
The front door slammed and we heard Mommy and May talking in excited voices.
"It's getting late. I'd better get back.Ill just go down and say hello to your mother. Cary's still upstairs?" he asked. "Yes," I said, gazing at the ceiling and the hole that, fortunately, Robert had not noticed.
We went downstairs and Robert talked to Mommy and signed to May for a while. He learned some new words with her and then I walked him out to his car.
"See you tomorrow," he said. "I'll get away in the afternoon for that walk on the beach."
"Okay."
He gave me a quick kiss and got into his car. I stood there and watched him disappear, until I heard the front door open and close behind me. Cary stood there, glaring at me. He started down the steps toward the beach and the dock.
"Just a minute, Cary," I said.
"What?"
"We have to talk," I said.
"I have nothing to say. I have to get to the boat."
"Well, I have something to say, Cary Logan, and you'd better stop and listen."
He paused and reluctantly turned toward me.
"Talk about what?"
"About the ceiling in my room," I said and walked toward him.
5
Maiden Voyage
.
Cary turned away and continued toward the
dock, walking very slowly. I walked beside him without speaking for a while. It was hard to think of the right words with which to begin.
"You snuck up there, didn't you, Cary? You knew Robert was coming over so you snuck back into the house and up into your attic workshop to spy on us," I said as softly and as calmly as I could.
"You're crazy," he said. "I had something to finish and just went up there. It's not my fault you didn't know I was up there. Anyway," he said, stopping and spinning around on me, "why are you so worried? You do something you're ashamed of?"
"Did I, Cary?"
He stared at me a moment, his eyes blazing. "Well? Did I?"
"How would I know?" he said, marching over
the sand faster now. I ran to catch up
with him. "How would you know? You would look
through that peephole, Cary. That's how you would
know."
"What?" He stopped again, his hands on his
hips. "Peephole?"
"You know what I'm talking about, Cary
Logan. If you want, we'll go right back to the house
and to my room and point it out to you."
He tried to stare me down again, but this time
his eyes shifted guiltily away and his face turned a
bright shade of pink.
"Oh," he said, nodding, "I know what you're
talking about. There was a knothole in the wood that
fell through a while ago."
"A knothole?"
"Yeah," he said. "I just noticed it myself the
other day. You think I have nothing better to do than
go up there and peep down at you and your
boyfriend?"
"I hope you have better things to do," I said,
"and if you tell me you didn't do it and you don't do it,
I'll believe you," I said.
"I just forgot to fix it, that's all," he said. "I was
going to plug it up with some wood glue the other
day," he added, looking grateful for being allowed to
come up with an explanation. "I just got too involved
in what I was doing and forgot."
"Okay," I said.
"I can't believe you would accuse me of such a
thing," he continued, now on the offensive.
"Why shouldn't I think it, Cary? You treat me
as if I'm some sort of fallen woman now, just because
I'm seeing Robert, who, I might add, you have no
good reason not to like. He's done nothing to you." "He and his family are part of the resort
business, bringing those tourists up here," Cary said
bitterly.
"You know we need the tourists, and that's not
you talking anyway. It's Grandma Olivia. Who would
buy Daddy's lobsters if there were no tourists, and
who would buy our cranberries if people didn't want
the products from the Cape? Why do they buy them?