Authors: Amanda Carpenter
be leaving, both Caprice and Roxanne were quick to add that they,
too, should be departing. They would rather drive in full daylight;
Roxanne had an early appointment the next morning; of course they
would much rather stay; it had been a lovely weekend, too bad it had
to end. But Jeffrey understood, didn't he? Of course he did, so they
would just pop upstairs to get their things.
She parted with Roxanne in the hall, entering the room that had been
hers for a few days without bothering to shut the door. As she was a
tidy person by nature, repacking her suitcase took a matter of
minutes, and she soon went to her tiny bathroom to make sure she
hadn't forgot anything before going back down. She walked in,
pivoted on her heel and was out again, almost in the same motion.
Then she stopped, as abruptly as running into a wall.
Pierce leaned casually against the side of the door, letting his dark
gaze roam the bedroom before settling on her tense, still face. He had
apparently been out, either walking or driving with his window
down, for his black hair was blown out of its sleek style, whipped
back. 'Heard you were leaving,' was his laconic opener.
She forced herself to walk calmly to her suitcase which was lying
open on her bed. With a snap, it was closed, and she pressed the twin
catches with her thumbs. The double snick was abnormally loud in
the room. 'I heard a rumour to that effect,' she said, surprising herself
by the sarcasm evident in her voice.
'Was that supposed to be funny?' He was still angry with her. She
could feel it, sense it almost as she would see a physical colour, a
dark hazy red. Did she transmit her anger as clearly as he, was that
how he'd intuited it so accurately yesterday? Or, more disturbingly,
were they that sensitive to each other?
'No,' she said slowly. 'It was stupid.' Though her bade was to him, she
knew he had relaxed somewhat. She asked shortly, 'What do you
wait?'
'To say goodbye, what else?' Now it was his turn to mock. What was
that strange ache she felt?
'So, goodbye.' Insolent, repelling.
'Oh, no.' His low laugh, sounding briefly, still angrily. 'You're not
getting off that easily.'
Her head jerked up and around in startlement.
'What is that supposed to -' she began. But she lost the thread of her
question; indeed, she lost all remembrance of it, as Pierce thrust away
from the doorpost, strode her way, and pulled her by the shoulders
right to him.
Too surprised to react, she met his chest with a distinct jar. A golden
chest, sleek and sun-kissed smooth, flexing muscles and warm
against her cheek, with sweet-smelling air filling her nostrils instead
of filthy lakewater. Her shiver and his steadiness. Hand holding arms.
Hard, and snaking around her once again while she reacted
sluggishly, slowly, far, far too slowly, and she knew it even as his
hand slid under her hair to tilt back her head. His lips. Which touched
her nape with a lost gentleness, lost, as anything possible between
them was, too different, too different, man and woman, warm body to
warm body. Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, unexpected. So
unexpected, in fact, that she was intensely shocked. Not by his open
mouth, moving hard and urgent on hers, which in turn was feverishly
eager on his. No, she wasn't shocked by the kiss, she'd been kissed
far too many times for that type of reaction. She was shocked by her
own response to it, deep and heartfelt, acutely and passionately aware
of the hard muscles in his clenched thighs, the heartbeat she felt
pounding in a roar against her own breast, his bent head, those long,
moving fingers. Something uncontrolled in her loins leapt surging,
and it scared her half to death.
Not in control.
He raised his head slowly, reluctantly. Through blurred vision, she
could see his own blind shock, and knew that he was experiencing
the same jarring emotion that she had. He stared down at her for a
full pulsing moment, eyes dilated. Then, without a word, he released
her and walked out the door.
She stared at the empty rectangle, feeling a deep, bone-weakening
tremble in her limbs. Then she turned her head to one side,
whispering quietly, 'Damn you.' What it meant, not even she knew.
Roxanne found her a few minutes later, sitting on the edge of the bed
quite still, staring towards the floor at her feet, her face a white blank.
The brunette's voice was subdued as she asked, 'Are you ready to
go?'
'What?' Caprice said tiredly. She looked up, and then her eyes really
focused, and expression came back to her face, though not colour.
'Oh yes. Of course.' She calmly reached for the handle of her
suitcase, and followed her friend down the stairs.
Goodbyes and thanks were effusively made. Caprice felt the weary
lies even as she mouthed diem with a smile on her pale lips, but knew
of no other way to get through it. She spoke a few words with Mrs
Langston, that poised, attractive lady, and in her eyes was a dry
knowledge, which brought a disconcerted frown to the other woman.
Then there was the moment when Caprice was turning to Emory and
hugging him affectionately, regardless of the interested, speculating
look of the others. She stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, 'I want
to hear how things turn out between you and Petra. Let me know, all
right?'
She drew back, and he smiled down at her. 'All right. Drive carefully,
you two.'
'We will,' promised Roxanne, while Caprice caught a frank glare
from Petra. She smiled, positively sunny in the face of the other girl's
ill- concealed hatred.
Though she was terrible at reading maps, she held routes well in her
memory, and had to consult Roxanne for directions only a few times
on their way back. Their drive up had been nice, as the sun had been
shining, but on their return Caprice found the sun so fierce, she had
to resort to dark glasses to combat a headache and the bright glare.
'Cap,' said Roxanne in a small voice, when they had been travelling
for some time.
After a moment, stifling a sigh, she grunted, 'Mmm.'
'Are you glad you went?'
How should she answer that? She was too tired for any dissembling.
'No,' she said.
'Neither am I.' A long pause. Wind whistled at the speed of their
passage, a constant, high, inhuman sound. 'Cappy. Why did you
agree to come?'
She licked dry lips, and immediately gave it up, for the wind
whipped them dry again instantly. 'I didn't want you hurt.'
'Jeffrey.' Roxanne's voice was flat.
'He's an unreliable fool, and wholly likeable. But I wouldn't count on
devotion from him.'
She could sense the other girl's dark head jerking to stare at her. 'I
don't—really know you at all, do I?'
She said quite gently, 'No. But I shouldn't get worked up over it, if I
were you. I don't think I know myself very well, either.'
Roxanne said, quick and sudden, 'I think I'm glad I went after all. I
kept getting mad at you every time Jeffrey would pay attention to
you instead of me. But after this morning, I can't— like him as much
as I did.'
'He wasn't to know that I'd get so upset,' reminded Caprice.
'No, but anyone could see that you weren't eager to horse around.
Even Ralph said that you were so careful in the water, he hadn't the
heart to splash water at you. And instead of respecting that, Jeffrey
acted pettily. I was very angry at him.'
She shot her friend a smiling glance. 'It wasn't hard to tell.'
She could almost hear Roxanne's mind working, wheels grinding
busily away. They had known each other for a long time, but
somehow totally open conversations had been rare between them,
and Caprice rather felt that they were embarking on a new and fragile
beginning. The brunette tried another leading remark. 'Petra is furious
with you, did you notice?'
She couldn't resist the totally wicked grin that brought her face to
unexpected animation. 'Well,' she said composedly, increasing the
car's speed as they neared the Virginia state line, 'she shouldn't have
refused Emory's proposal, then, if she's going to get so worked up
about it.'
'You sly devil! Is that what's going on, then?' Roxanne was wanning
to her more and more.
'Yes, but Emory's quite innocent of it. He's just grateful I let him pour
out all his woes on my sympathetic shoulder. His perspective is not
exactly, well, penetrating. I can't wait to see what happens!'
Her friend laughed, and strangely sobered again, quickly. 'Cap,' said
Roxanne for a third time, and it was the most hesitant of all. 'I—came
to your room, and found you with Pierce. I left and came back again,
since I didn't want to disturb you.'
Dear heaven. A dark colour tinged her cheeks, a swift, jaw-clenched
reaction. Roxanne wouldn't have disturbed her unduly. Pierce had
been the one to completely destroy her composure. 'Forget what you
saw,' she said, from stiff lips. 'It was nothing.'
'It looked like a lot more than nothing to me,' Roxanne retorted.
'I said forget it.'
'You fell for him.'
'Let's change the conversation.' They were nearing the other girl's
home, thank God.
'But anyone could see it. And he was attracted to you, too. What's
wrong with that? He seems like a gorgeous man; you always have the
luck. And' I've never seen you so seriously interested in someone like
that. You should keep in contact with him.'
From a warm, relaxed sharing, to this sudden, shaking discomposure.
Couldn't the other girl see how this was upsetting her? She tightened
her trembling fingers on the steering wheel until the bone showed
white through the skin at her knuckles. 'It was nothing,' she repeated,
like a litany. 'He's not my type. Now please, Roxanne, just drop it!'
They pulled on to the street where the brunette lived. 'All right,'
Caprice heard her say, clearly confused. She pulled into the
driveway, and came to a stop near the front door. The silence
between them drew out until she turned her blonde head to stare at
the other girl, who was steadily studying what could be seen of her
face behind the dark glasses. 'I still don't know you very well, do I?'
Her lips trembled, obviously. With a quick gesture, she touched
Roxanne's shoulder, and then turned her face away. The other girl's
goodbye was gentle.
Caprice pulled into her own driveway twenty minutes later with the
haggard feeling that she had survived a war. Wearily she dragged out
her suitcase, and made her way inside the house. The late afternoon
led her to suspect that she would find things very quiet, and she was
right. After letting Liz know she was back, she went to her room,
dropped her suitcase uncaringly to the floor, locked her door behind
her and stripped. A hard yank had her bedcovers tugged back, and
she crept between her sheets, with a deep, shuddering sigh. The day
had been incredibly draining, and she concentrated single-mindedly
on falling asleep as quickly and easily as she possibly could.
Thum, THUM, thum, thum, THUM, went the beat of her heart in the
silence of the dark murky waters; all she could think of, and all she
could hear, was the beat of her heart going thum, THUM—wait a
minute. This wasn't a dream. She rolled over, knuckling groggily at
her eyes, and shouted, 'What?'
Ricky's voice resonated through the wood. 'You're late for supper.
Did you want any?'
She emitted something between a groan and a whimper, and briefly
stuck her head under her pillows and tried to think. She wasn't
hungry, but if she didn't get up now, she'd never sleep the night
through. 'I'll be down in a minute,' she mumbled to her sheet.
'Did you say something?'
'I said I'll be down in a minute!' That, irately.
She heard him laugh. 'Well, you didn't need to shout.'
Dragging herself out of bed was possibly one of the hardest things
she'd ever done, but a quick cold splash of water dispelled the grog-
giness, and she slipped on a fresh set of clothes with the neat
economy of a student well used to calculating such early morning
routines down to a second. After a few strokes at her hair with her
brush, she slipped out of her bedroom and ran lightly down to the
dining room, supper, and her family.