Authors: Amanda Carpenter
him, cheek pressed against his shoulder. The others saw his head
bend until his cheek rested on her wet hair.
Coming out of the water was hard, for her legs felt ridiculously weak,
and her body felt heavier in comparison to the buoyancy from
swimming. They went slow and easy, her thigh muscles quivering,
and when they had reached his lounge chair, he pushed her
unresistingly into it, and then draped a large beach towel over her
shoulders. She shivered as though she had a high fever, and he came
down beside her to take her into his arms.
From time to time, the now subdued group in the water glanced their
way but could only guess at the tew conversation being held, her
head ducked low, Pierce's head quite near. Jeffrey was the target of
many accusing glances and looked more miserable than Roxanne had
ever seen him.
At the lounge chair, after a long silence when warmth finally began
to creep back into her chilled limbs, Caprice said, soft and bitter, 'I
feel like a fool.'
His hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing gently at the tense
muscles. 'I don't think I've ever seen such terror as I saw on your face
when you broke the surface. You can't dictate to emotions or fears.'
She turned her head away. Pierce touched at her braid, then moved
his hand to slide it up and down her shoulder bracingly. His bare
thigh was pressed hard on hers, and his greater body heat seared her
skin. She wished she Could get closer to him and that marvellous
warmth.
'I couldn't think,' she whispered. 'I couldn't breathe.'
His voice was gentle. 'How long have you been that way?'
'All my life, isn't it stupid? I've tried to overcome it, even tried to
jump off a diving board once. I got out to the end of it, and couldn't
move. My brother had to pull me off again. It's dumb and irrational.'
She rocked forward, and put her head on her knee. 'It takes over my
mind, and I just—freeze.'
She turned her face to one side, and while he continued to stroke at
her back, she began to feel relaxed and very tired. Her eyes fell on a
scattered pile of papers on the grass, and then she remembered.
'Weren't you sitting here, before?'
He replied drily, 'Yes, until I heard you give a kind of strangled
croak, and saw how real Roxanne's worry was. Nobody else seemed
to know what was happening, except Roxanne and I, of course, so I
dived in and grabbed a handful of Jeff's hair to yank him back. He let
go, I came up, and you popped up like a floating ice cube, doubled
over and unmoving. I must admit, that gave me a bad turn. For a
moment, I thought you'd gone unconscious.'
'I almost had. I'd started to black out when you grabbed me.'
Unexpectedly, she started to cry. He bent over her curved back, and
she felt the weight and warmth of him as he pressed his lips to the
nape of her neck.
'Ssh. Come on now, it was bad, but it was only for a few seconds, and
now it's all over with. Dry your tears. We'll go inside and you can
shower and get dressed, all right?'
'All right. I just feel so mortified.'
'Sit up and look at me.' She did, and his eyes were stern, his face
hard. 'Stop it. Do you hear?
Phobias are something out of a person's control. You couldn't help it.
If Jeff hadn't acted like the fool he is, it wouldn't have happened. Are
you ready to go indoors?'
She remembered his work, and looked at the papers. 'You don't have
to come with me. I'm all right.'
'I want to,' he said, and that was all there was to it.
PIERCE saw her to her room, after they had walked into the house
slowly, his arm still tightly about her shoulders. When she had shut
her bedroom door behind him, she sagged against it with her legs
trembling in delayed reaction. Then she dragged herself weakly to
her tiny bathroom to shower, wash her hair and, afterwards, dress.
Her face was still too pale, and her eyes strangely blank, when she
checked her appearance before going back downstairs. Pierce had
told her he would wait for her in the library after he had dressed, also,
and so she rather listlessly supposed she should go on down. All her
energy . seemed sapped, and she felt much more like taking a nap.
As she descended the stairs, she found herself thinking rather
distantly how odd it was for her to feel such terror at one type of
water, when, say for instance, a shower, with water cascading over
her head, didn't bother her in the slightest. A shudder went through
her entire body. One was so deep, and the other so safely shallow.
Voices sounded in an incomprehensible murmur from the family
room, and, as she checked briefly in the library and found no one
there, she headed towards the back of the house.
She could identify Pierce and Mrs Langston long before she could
distinguish words, and quickened her pace.
'... You weren't out there, you couldn't see her face. She was in
absolute terror,' Pierce was snapping impatiently. In automatic reflex,
her steps lagged, and she felt acutely uncomfortable to be
overhearing two people discussing her.
'All right, maybe she didn't put on an act. Maybe I misjudged,' said
Mrs Langston. Caprice felt an acute shock. 'After all, I saw it from
the back window and, God knows, I didn't understand what was
going on. But you must admit, darling, you have been paying her an
awful lot of attention, and we all saw you both this morning.'
'Drop it, I'm warning you,' Pierce said, his voice going silken.
'But I can't! Just let me say this one thing, please! She's an
inconsistent butterfly, all colour and no direction. Why, she's got
Jeffrey, that dear boy, Emory, and now you after her, and after just
one weekend!'
'You don't know what you're talking about,' he said harshly.
'Oh, I don't doubt she's a lovely person! That's not the point. But
you're so different, Pierce! You're older, mature, you're responsible
and steadfast.'
'This is a ridiculous conversation.'
Angry. What an intriguing emotion to be wasting.
'My dear, I never try to run your life, you know that. Heavens, you're
too old, and far too strong a personality for that. But I couldn't help
but say this. You'd just find yourself weary of her in a little while, or
she would weary of you, and one of you would get hurt.'
'Have I suggested a deep and intimate relationship between us, yet?'
Now exasperation. Caprice found that she was clasping her hands
together so hard, they hurt. 'We should end this. She'll be down any
moment.'
'You're complete opposites.'
'Don't you think I know that?' His sigh.
She backed away noiselessly, suddenly ashamed to find herself
caught by the same weakness Pierce had confessed just that morning,
and when she was safely away so that neither would hear normal
footsteps, she walked to the library and sank into one of the
armchairs and bowed her head.
Everything Mrs Langston had said was true. Everything, and she had
known it all along. It hdd been the underlying reason why she'd tried
to avoid him after that first evening of dancing under golden hung
lanterns. What could he possibly see in her after a while? Her life
was indeed shallow and she had lived it too long, for she didn't know
how to change. She'd been taught her lifestyle since she was a small
girl, and had to truthfully admit she loved the parties and' the outings,
and light chatter. If she yearned for something else, why, didn't
everyone yearn for something different, even in the most ideal of
lives?
A senseless, useless, ceaseless attraction for a man she barely knew,
and she was suddenly unhappy with everything. She would just hold
on until she got home. Her perspective would change then. She didn't
know enough about Pierce to have founded anything lasting or
concrete—she didn't even know his main interests in life, his goals,
his dreams, his hobbies. She knew nothing about him, except for the
look in his eyes, the low laugh in his voice, the feel of his arms, and
the sight of his naked chest. A mere infatuation!
The last thing she wanted was to hurt, or be hurt. It had gone on far
enough. No. That first, mocking kiss of hers had been too, too far.
Pierce said from the doorway, 'How are you feeling?'
Fine and dandy, yessir. A slight smile to him, and she said, 'I'm much
better. Feeling silly and a little tired.' The smile faded, leaving her
looking somehow older.
He walked forward, slowly. Light grey, slacks this time, and a short-
sleeved matching shirt. His eyes were on her, sharply. 'Is anything
wrong?' he asked. 'You look—odd.'
She shook her head a bit absently.
'Would you like something to drink?' He sat in the armchair opposite
her, the same that Emory had occupied that morning.
'No, thank you.' Her reply was distant, scrupulously polite. There was
certainly nothing to suggest the utterly humbled and crushed emotion
she'd experienced when hearing herself discussed so disparagingly.
But, oh, no doubt she was a lovely person. Something tight lay,
leaden, in her chest.
Pierce was frowning, his mouth held thin as he took a slow and
deliberate assessment of her.
'Something is wrong. Still dwelling on earlier? You shouldn't be.'
Swift anger. 'You don't know me. Don't make assumptions.'
Astonishment, then a darkening anger of his own. 'In case you'd
totally missed the point,' he said bitingly. 'I'm trying to be thoughtful,
and to see that you're all right after having a nasty shock.'
She lifted her eyes from her hands clasped in her lap, a sudden,
queerly stern glare. 'You want to help? Then don't push, don't pry at
me, and don't make conjectures about my possible state of being!'
He held himself quite still, an elegant man, with quick-moving,
quick-assessing eyes. His expression had changed after the
astonishment and fleeting anger to settle into hardened lines of
remoteness. At the look, she strangely wanted to cry, for all she could
think of was the gentle, comforting touch of his lips against the back
of her neck. 'My goodness,' he said, slow and sardonic. 'Anything
else you'd like to add to that?'
Her elbow leaning on one arm of the chair, she put her head down
and rubbed at her eyes. 'That seems,' she replied wearily, 'to be quite
comprehensible.' She wished she could feel hostile to him, but all she
could feel was regret.
Mrs Vandusen said from the doorway, 'Pierce, you have a phone call.
Would you like to take it here, or upstairs?'
He raised a dark brow at her, and said, with a causticity that made the
housekeeper raise her own in sharp surprise, 'An inadequate end.'
Caprice rose from her chair. 'But so appropriate. Don't bother going
upstairs.' She smiled without humour. 'It's far easier for me to leave.'
Outside the library, she heard his voice, already so familiar, and it
changed from abruptness to a far more businesslike tone. She bowed
her head, put on her happy face, and went outside.
The others were just climbing out and drying off with a pile of towels
which had been laid close by the pier. When she approached, there
was a moment of awkward silence, as everyone tried to think how
they would say what they were feeling. Then Jeffrey met her eyes,
which were calm and smiling. There was true mortification in his
glance. 'Look, I'm sorry -' he began.
She laughed and, feeling sorry for his, hangdog look, she walked
over to snake her arm around his slim waist for a brief, tight hug.
'Don't be more stupid than you can help, hm?' she said, and pressed
her lips to his cheek to take the sting out of her words. 'You weren't
to know I don't like getting my head under water! For heaven's sake,
forget it!'
After that, she moved away, and acted so utterly normal, and carefree
that everyone else relaxed with a collective sigh, and soon the
atmosphere was light-hearted once more.
Lunch was a laughing affair, and Caprice was much relieved to find
Roxanne being warmer to her. Soon after the meal, she found an
occasion to ask the brunette if they could leave fairly soon, and raised
a blonde eyebrow at the other girl's apparent eagerness to be gone.
The weekend had not turned out like either had expected it to.
So it was that, when Lane finally mentioned N that he would have to