Flight to Darkness (19 page)

“
If you aren’t afraid of your
brother, you should be. He’s concocting some fine stories, just
fine.” She paused, and I hated Frank just a little more. “Come
here, Eric. I’ve waited and waited—” Two women today had waited,
but this one was fire. She went on, “I can’t stand it. I won’t
stand it any longer, I wasn’t made to.” She sat up, swung her feet
to the floor. The tight, thin skirt hissed up over her knees and
her smile was warm and sly. She rose slowly and started toward me.
As she passed the stand with the candle on it, she blew out the
light. For a moment the room seemed dark, then bright stars and
moonlight came down through the skylight and she was against me,
her body warm, pliant, her breath loud.

Inadvertently my arms went around her, there
was nothing I could do, and her body pushed against me almost
angrily. She wore nothing beneath that dress and the expensive
weave of the cloth slid softly against her warm curves. Her breasts
were full against me, and her mouth sought mine.

Everything went mad. All of the pent-up
longing of both of us was drowned in a fury of caresses.

Feeling her was like touching a living
flame.

It was wild crazy loving and she said things
only I would ever hear and half-recall as we tumbled headlong and
viciously up through blackness into the star-studded
night.

“
It’s funny, now, isn’t it, Eric?”
she said. “All that to-do? I told you I’d be back.”

We were still lying on the couch, staring up
through the skylight at the night and I wouldn’t see anything
funny. She was still my brother’s wife, even if she was my woman.
And I was helpless with her around; I couldn’t fight, couldn’t do
anything save what she wanted.

And Leda had changed. Here within the past few
hours I’d seen a side of her I’d never seen before. She had
changed, or she had been holding out on a part of her personality
before. This new part was a bit wrong, a little cock-eyed
somehow.

“
I love you so much it makes me
nuts inside,” she told me. “I haven’t known what to do.”

“
You did well enough.” She had
swung everything her way again. She had me hanging there again,
like always, and there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe
nothing I wanted to do. But I knew I did have to do something
because it couldn’t go on this way.

Up against the wall by the doorway leading
into the kitchen was a rack of different sized wooden mallets. I
wondered when I’d ever get to use them, then felt a stab of
anxiousness because that was the rack where the wooden mallet came
from. The one . . .

Leda saw where I was looking and answered a
thought.

“
You can do me in stone,” she said.
“In marble. You always said you would.” She was excited. Sitting
up, she leaned over me, watching my face. “You will, won’t you?
Look,” she said. “It would be a good excuse.”

“
For what?”

“
For my being here, damn it. Can’t
you see? Nobody could say anything, then. After all, you are
Frank’s brother, and all.”

“
That helps a lot.”

“
Well, so people talk. So
what?”

“
So, nothing. I’ll see.”

“
Say you will!” There was something
desperate in her voice.

“
Why don’t you get a divorce? Then
we could—”

She interrupted, ignoring what I’d said.
“Would you do me in clay first?”

I watched her, not speaking.

She grabbed my face with both hands. “Would
you? Answer me.”

“
Yes. All right.”

She sighed. “I knew you would, darling. It’s
perfect. You can start right now.”

“
It isn’t that easy. You know that,
Leda. There’s a lot of preparatory work.” She had most certainly
changed. Too, something of her old self was gone. “Besides,” I
said, “The marble would have to wait a long while.”

“
Why, silly? I have money. I’ll get
the marble.”

That shut me up again. She was taking all of
this as a joke and I didn’t know how to take anything, any more. I
felt ill at ease and sick inside.

She was a beautiful, demanding woman. Maybe
too demanding. She was blind to everything but her own selfish
desires, as the old Leda hadn’t always been. Yet I loved her and
wanted her for my own. Again I realized what a lousy mixed-up life
mine was, how uneasy my mind was, and how peace seemed to be
leaving me forever.

I should have been happy as you are after
you’ve been with the woman you really love, and peace should have
been there with us, and there should have been no feeling of
aloneness. But there was no peace and the antagonism was there
because something was missing. But what? I didn’t know.

I kept remembering, too, the hit-and-run; the
accident that had been called off. And there had been none, not
with me involved. Yet, my name had been used. A description had
been given of my car . . . too many things had happened.

Then I got to thinking about Leda again. How
maybe if I did model her in clay and finally in stone, maybe then
I’d find what I was looking for. Maybe it would solve some of the
riddle. Peace might be there, waiting, because the work was inside
me, too, aching to come out. It hadn’t come out for a long while.
Maybe that’s what was the matter.

“
Kiss me,” Leda said.

I did and it didn’t solve a thing. I had
started to dress when the door opened.

“
Eric? You in there?”

Norma stood in the doorway. I know now that if
I’d stayed on the couch she might not have seen us, I might have
been able to silence Leda in time. But as it was, Norma looked
straight at me and Leda and said, “What is this?”

Norma stared at Leda in the half darkness.
Leda didn’t move her position on the couch. The whole thing was
sickeningly obvious. Norma wore a black bathing suit and carried a
towel over her shoulder.

“
Get out of here!” Leda said
loudly. She sat up on the couch, looked at me. “Eric, get her out
of here!”

“
I’m sorry,” Norma said. I couldn’t
see her expression very well. Maybe it was a good thing. She left
hurriedly, slammed the door.

Leda was on her feet. “And that’s
Norma.”

“
Yes. So what?”

“
My, God, Eric. Do I have to slit
her throat?”

“
Don’t speak so loud.”

“
I’ll shout if I like,” she said.
“What was she doing here?” She came toward me, her naked body
gleaming in the moonlight, her hair in wild disarray. “This is
fine,” she went on. “Just fine.”

I tried to take her in my arms. She twisted
free.

“
Stop it,” I told her. “You said
you knew about her. Probably just stopped in. Probably.”

She seemed to calm down, then, and commenced
dressing. But she didn’t talk much after that and although she
kissed me good-bye with fervor, I thought she acted a bit
peculiar.

Which wasn’t, after all, very odd.

“
Well, it’s really done, now, isn’t
it?” Norma was standing in the kitchen as I re-entered the barn.
She’d lit two candles and stuck them on a shelf up beside the
stove. The cold chops were still in the pan on the stove. Norma was
still in the black bathing suit and she was a striking looking
woman, but the expression on her face was sad.

“
Nothing’s done,” I said. “What do
you mean?”

“
You know what I mean.” She walked
over to a chair and sat down, crossing her legs. The night was
quite warm and there were sparkles of water in her blonde hair.
She’d been swimming.

“
I thought I’d be mad,” she said.
“But I’m not, really. Somehow I’m just sorry for you.”

“
Well, don’t be sorry for me. What
reason have you to be sorry for me? And if you mean Leda, never
mind getting your back up. She’s—”

“
That’s what I said.” She lifted
the towel off the back of the chair and drew it around her
shoulders. “I’ll be leaving,” she went on. “Today was a sort of big
good-bye, wasn’t it?”

“
Damn it, Norma!” Things were
reaching the stage where I wasn’t even sure of a move from one
moment to the next.

“
Okay,” she said. “Damn it.” She
rose, went into the other room, then came back to the kitchen and
walked to the door. She looked at me for a long moment. “You’re a
good guy, basically,” she said. “But the breaks are against you.”
She opened the door. “I’ll be seeing you,” she said, and the door
slammed.

“
Norma,” I called. “For God’s
sake!”

The door opened again. She stood there
quietly, with the towel over her shoulders. “It was a long wait. I
was a fool to have been sure of some things. Good-bye, Eric,” she
said. “Thanks for the ride.”

Chapter 15

I saw nothing of Frank until the day of the
funeral. Quite a few townspeople were at the cemetery and though
they spoke to Frank with the usual undertones and whispers, they
did little else than nod to me. I didn’t mind that, either. I was
thinking of Mother and how she had come to her grave. I tried not
to think Frank’s blundering had caused her death, but I couldn’t
keep the thought from my mind. Several people stared at me openly
and whispered behind handkerchiefs, or wrists.

After the service, I started toward the car.
Quick footsteps approached behind me. Frank called, “Wait up,
Eric.”

I turned. He wore a dark suit, black tie,
black shoes. His eyes were puffy and there was adhesive over his
nose. But the contempt was in his eyes.

“
Get in your car,” he said. “I want
a word with you.”

“
Let’s skip it,” I said. I climbed
behind the wheel and slammed the door. He fastened his hands on the
door, and stared at me. He was breathing sharply.

“
I didn’t think you’d come,” he
said. “Didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“
Let’s drop that tack.”

He cleared his throat. “That isn’t what I
wanted to talk about.”

I waited. Some people walked by the car. It
was a large cemetery, shaded by towering palms and live oaks
drooping with Spanish moss. I didn’t feel in the mood for talk
about anything, especially with Frank. I watched Leda get in their
car parked ahead of me on the drive. She also was in black, with a
veil. She looked anything but in mourning; the dress was tight and
glistened in patches of sunlight.

“
I want to speak about my wife,”
Frank said. “For three days she hasn’t been home. Half the night
she’s away.” His face reddened up, now, and his hands clenched
nervously on the door. He spoke louder. “I want you to leave her
alone. You hear? You may have known her once. But that’s changed.
You hear?”

“
Fine.”

Several people standing on the grass beside
the drive turned and stared. Frank didn’t seem to
notice.

“
Can’t you take care of your own
wife?” I said.

“
She tells me where she’s been,” he
said. “I won’t have it. I told her so. It’s to stop as of now.”
Again he cleared his throat; he was highly nervous. I had to hold
myself in, talking to him, because I wanted to hit him. I wanted to
break his nose so he wouldn’t have any. The dream didn’t frighten
me any more, much, and all I wanted to do was hurt the man. Not in
a dream, either.

He said, “She’s been with you all that time.
She hasn’t been near the house. I hardly see her. I won’t have
it!”

I shrugged and started the engine.

“
Shut that off,” he
said.

I let it run.

“
She’s posing for you. Naked, you
hear? My wife. People will talk.”

“
They sure will with you
bellowing.”

He tried to calm down, but his voice was full
of emotion and it carried through the silence of the
grounds.

“
She’s paying me for the work,” I
said. “I need the money. Don’t be so damned shallow.”

“
You heard me, Eric. I want it
stopped. I don’t care what she’s told you. She’s—she’s highly
emotional, excitable.” He stared at me for a long moment, his face
working, his eyes very bright. “That’s all,” he said. “And don’t
come around the house. I don’t want to see you. Just remember
that—and what I’ve said.”

I noticed Leda coming toward us from their
car. She was smiling and her every movement was provocative in the
early afternoon sunlight.

Frank turned his back on me and walked rapidly
up to her. He took her arm and I heard him say, “Come along, dear.”
They went to their car. Quite a few people had watched the little
episode and I guessed not a few had heard some of what Frank
said.

I went on back to the barn.

Leda had been with me for three days. She came
early in the morning and remained. We swam together, and I was
doing a large work of her in clay, full-figure. The pose was full,
feet spread slightly apart, hands clasped behind her back, head
thrown back with that wealth of auburn hair tossed and tumbled by a
wind. It would be very beautiful, but not so beautiful as she. I
was so much in love with her, wanted her so badly, that nothing
Frank could say bothered me. Nothing anybody could say. She was
mine and that’s the way it was. It seemed we could never still the
hot flame that had grown during the time of separation. We tried.
The posing was difficult, the work difficult—because one or the
other of us could only stand it for a short time before we weakened
and took to the couch.