Debutante Hill (11 page)

But as sleep came closer and the day's events slipped further away, it was not Dirk's handsome face that stayed in her mind. It was another face, one with a square, determined chin and an easy smile and honest blue eyes. Drowsily, Lynn raised her hand, felt for the chain around her throat and slid her fingers down it until they touched the ring.

“You're my girl,” Paul had said. “We've got something between us worth hanging on to.”

Oh, Paul, Lynn whispered into the pillow, I miss you! I miss you! I miss you so much!

And the ache of loneliness inside her was something that nobody else, no matter how much he needed her, could take away.

When Lynn stepped into her house late the next morning, she felt as though she were returning from a long journey. The city bus dropped her off at the corner of the Hill and River Road and she walked the rest of the way up the Hill toward the house, carrying her small overnight bag.

The air was crisp and cold, colder than the brisk chill of autumn, more like the beginning breath of winter before the first snow. Sunlight fell, bright and golden, through the half-naked branches of the maples which lined the walk, and the spacious lawns of the houses along the Hill were browning with the touch of frost.

As she passed the Taylor house, she wondered how the barbecue had gone the night before. She could imagine how it had been, the smell of charcoal rising from the huge outdoor grill in the back yard, the hi-fi playing, the laughter and talking during dinner, the singing afterward and perhaps dancing in the living room, if the night grew too cold for people to want to stay outside.

I'm glad I wasn't here, Lynn thought. If I had been, I would have felt so left out. I'm glad I went to Anne's. I feel as though I know her better now—and Dirk, too.

She turned in her own driveway and crossed the lawn to the house. She was conscious for the first time of what
a large house it was, how wide the front porch, how spacious the front hall, how roomy and well-furnished the living room.

“Mother!”

“Hi, honey!” Her mother's voice came from the kitchen. Lynn had forgotten that Saturday afternoons were Rosalie's time off. She swung through the open door to find her mother elbow-deep in flour.

“Baking?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Chambers glanced up self-consciously. “Come in, but don't you dare laugh. I know I don't do these things as well as Rosalie does, but I certainly love to try.”

Lynn perched on the kitchen stool at one end of the table, shaking her head in astonishment at the mounds of ingredients that were piled in various places around the table surface, waiting to be poured into the gigantic mixing bowl. She could hardly keep back a smile when she remembered Anne's efficient cooking techniques.

“You love to cook, don't you, Mother? You can hardly wait for Rosalie's day off, so you can get in here and mess around.”

“Mess around!” Mrs. Chambers exclaimed in mock horror. “Why, I'll have you know I'm making the best apple upside-down cake that has ever been eaten in this house!” Then she smiled. “Truly, I do love to mess around when it's something special, a real project of some kind. I don't like the regular everyday meals and I'm happy Rosalie does them for me; but then I'm delighted when the weekend comes and I can experiment with something interesting.” She lifted one of the piles of flour and poured it into the bowl. “Did you have a good time at the Masters'?”

“Yes,” Lynn answered, “Anne really is a good housekeeper. You know, she has been taking care of all the housework and cooking and everything, all by herself, since her mother died.”

“That's a big load for a girl her age,” Mrs. Chambers said gravely. “What is Mr. Masters like?”

“He seems very nice,” Lynn said, “although he works in the evenings, so I didn't have much chance to get to know him. Anne and I went to a movie. I seem to be seeing quite a lot of movies lately, don't I?”

Mrs. Chambers nodded. “Yes, you did just see one with Dirk, didn't you?” She began to rub flour on her hands. “Lynn, I've been wanting to talk to you about Dirk. Some of the ladies at the auxiliary meetings—well, their daughters have mentioned him at home—They all seem to think he isn't the kind of boy you should be dating.”

Lynn straightened up. “Why?”

“Well, they say he has been in trouble with the police, that he runs around with an older crowd, that he smokes and drinks—all in all, that he just isn't desirable company for a girl like you. I wouldn't discuss it with them because I didn't really know anything about it. I just took it for granted that he must be a nice boy or you would not be dating him.”

“He is nice,” Lynn said flatly. “I didn't think so at first but now I do. He's just sort of—well, mixed up. He needs somebody to help him.”

Mrs. Chambers raised her eyes and gave her daughter a long look. “And that somebody is you?”

Lynn flushed. “Well, why not? He seems to like and respect me. Why not try to help him?”

“That's a good question,” her mother answered quietly. “I don't know if there is as good an answer. I can only tell you what I have observed myself, through a few more years of living than you have had.” She paused. “It's good to be friends with people and to like them and want to help them, but no boy is going to be helped by a girl unless he is willing to help himself first. And no girl is going to help a boy by leaning down to him. She can help him only by standing up tall and inspiring him to rise up to her.”

“What do you mean?” Lynn asked uncomfortably, recalling with a flood of guilt the date with Dirk, the fast driving, the evening at Charlie's.

She thought, she can't know. There's no possible way for her to know about that.

Still, she was relieved when her mother said, “I'm not referring to anything special, dear; I'm just stating a generalization. And I'm wondering if maybe it would be better for you not to go out with this boy. There is no sense in asking for trouble when there is no need to.”

“Not go out with this boy!” Lynn repeated, with a touch of bitterness in her voice. “Honestly, Mother, what do you and Daddy want me to do with myself during my senior year? You've forbidden me to be a debutante, which automatically cuts me out of dates with all the Hill boys. Now you're forbidding me to date boys who aren't Hill boys—”

“Lynn, that's not so!” her mother exclaimed. “I'm not thinking in terms of Hill boys and other boys. There are plenty of nice boys who don't come from the Hill. But this Dirk just sounds like a bad apple, a weakling and a troublemaker. I would think that of him wherever he came from. Daddy and I want you to be democratic in your friendships,
but that doesn't mean you have to go out and deliberately pick out the worst possible boy you can find—”

“Oh, Mother!” Lynn swung herself off the stool. “For goodness' sakes, you're making so much more of everything than there is! But let's not argue about it. Goodness, it's already the end of November! Just two more weeks and Paul will be home, and then there won't be anything to worry about. I take it, you don't object to my dating Paul?”

“Oh, don't be silly!” Her mother sighed. “You know we don't object to Paul. Or to any other nice boy.”

Lynn said, “I'm going up to my room and unpack my pajamas and things. Hope that cake's ready in time for lunch, I'm starved.”

She went up the stairs, encountering Dodie in the hall. Her sister had her hair done up in pincurls, under a bright colored bandana.

She said, “Hi! You back?”

“Yes. What are you doing with your hair up at this hour?”

“Rolled it last night and it didn't take right so I'm doing it again. Can I use your hair dryer?”

“Sure, I guess so. But don't drop it.” Lynn went into her room and got the little electric dryer out of her closet. “Hey, wait a minute before you go; I want to ask you something. Were you over at the Turners' house the other day?”

Dodie gave her a sharp glance. “Why?”

“Anne said she saw you there. I didn't think she could be right, but I thought I'd ask you, anyway.”

“Yes,” Dodie said surprisingly, “I was there. Mrs. Turner was at the hospital, visiting with the little girl, and Ronnie had to work, so I said I'd keep an eye on the boys.”

Lynn's eyes opened wider. “How on earth did that happen? I mean, how did Ronnie come to ask you?”

“He didn't.” Dodie answered briefly. “I asked him.” She started toward the door and then she turned back, as though she felt she should add something to her explanation. “I went in the drugstore with the gang after school and Ronnie was trying to serve everybody and keep an eye on the three little kids at the same time. He had them in a back booth, and the little one was howling, and the other two were climbing on the table. Ronnie looked like he was about to have a breakdown, watching them and working at the same time, so I told him I'd babysit for a while.”

Lynn stared at her younger sister in bewilderment. Was this Dodie—Dodie, who had never condescended to babysit in her entire life!

“I thought you hated babysitting.”

“I do,” Dodie said.

“Then, why—”

“Oh, I don't know!” Dodie exclaimed impatiently. “He just looked like he needed help. Now, can I get out of this third degree and go dry my hair?”

“Sure. Sorry to waste your valuable time,” Lynn sat down on the bed.

Dodie, she thought, Dodie—I don't know you at all! You are my own sister, and you're more of a stranger to me than any girl I know. Why, I even know Anne better than I do you!

With the thought of Anne, she let her mind drift back to the night before, to the crowded little house and the tiny bedroom and the unfamiliar sounds that filled the night. She had not slept well. To begin with, she had never shared
a bed with anyone before and she had been afraid to turn or even to move, for fear she would awaken Anne, who slept so soundly beside her. Then, there were no lawns to separate the house from the street. It seemed to Lynn as though the bedroom was set right in the middle of a highway, for each car that passed sent its headlights brightly through the window, and the night sounds—people passing along the sidewalk, the screech of brakes at the comer, the rumble of a train somewhere much too close, seemed to be rocking the house with their noise.

Besides that the house itself was so small that every sound leaped through the thin walls. She was very conscious of Dirk in the next room. She could hear him rise and go into the bathroom for a glass of water; she could hear the sound as he brushed his teeth and the gurgle of water as he took his shower and even the click of the bedside light as he settled himself to sleep. Then, at two in the morning, when Mr. Masters returned home, she woke immediately at the sound of his footsteps in the living room. She lay awake, listening to the refrigerator door open and close as he took out the supper Anne had left for him, the sound of a chair being drawn up to a table, and later, water running in the kitchen sink as he rinsed the dishes and then went into the bedroom.

I never realized, Lynn thought, how well built our house is. There are so many things I never realized.

She relaxed on the bed and shut her eyes. After her restless night, the bed seemed heavenly—wide and soft and inviting.

How long she slept, Lynn did not know, but when she awakened, it was to the sound of the telephone ringing in
the hall. She sat up as she heard Dodie calling her name.

“Coming!”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and went out into the hall, still hazy with sleep. She picked up the receiver.“Hello?”

“Hi, Lynn.” It was Nancy. “I just wanted to tell you how much we missed you last night. Holly's party was just colossal, but we all wished so much that you could be there.”

“Thanks,” Lynn said, sitting down on the stool by the telephone table. “I had a pretty nice evening myself. I spent the night with Anne.”

“Anne Masters?” Nancy did not sound as surprised as Lynn had thought she would. “She's a pretty nice girl, isn't she? I always thought I'd like to know her better but you just get going with one crowd—”

“I know,” Lynn said. “She's awfully talented at painting. You should see her water colors! I'm going to see about voting her into the Art Club.”

“I thought you'd dropped out of the Art Club.”

“Well, maybe I'll drop back in again. I'm not sure,” Lynn said. “What do you hear from that brother of mine?”

“I got a grand long letter just today. He says he and Paul can hardly wait to get home. He's all excited about taking me to the Christmas parties. Just think, one every night and real orchestras for some of them, and one will be a dinner party at the Yacht Club, and Mrs. Peterson is having a treasure hunt—” She stopped short. “Oh, Lynn, I'm sorry! Here I rattle on and on, and I keep forgetting you're not going to them. Please forgive me. I'm just as rude as I can be. It's just—well, you and I have always done the same things. It's so hard to remember—”

“Don't worry about it,” Lynn said. “I really don't care. Paul will be home, and that's all tbat matters to me. We'll have a grand time together, even if we don't do anything but sit home and watch television every evening.”

“Of course, you will. Well, I've got to go now; lunch is ready. I just wanted to check in and say ‘hi.' I feel as though I never see you any more, Lynn. I miss you.”

“You're just busy,” Lynn said. “I understand that. And I'm busy too, only with different things. We'll make a real business of getting together soon. Why don't you come over and spend the night?”