The Lonely Lady (10 page)

The doctor hesitated. He knew how John felt. He would feel the same way if she were his daughter. But Veronica was right. The best thing was to sit on it. “I’m afraid your wife is right, John,” he said. “People are funny about these things.”

John’s lips tightened. “Then you’d let those boys get away with it completely.”

“Maybe you could discuss it confidentially with their parents,” the doctor suggested.

“What good would that do?” John asked. “I’m sure the boys will find a way to blame it all on JeriLee.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Veronica said quickly. “Either way it will get all over town. I say we just forget about it.”

John looked at his wife. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was more frightened and more calculating than he had ever thought. His voice was heavy with pain. “Maybe we can forget about it,” he said. “But what about JeriLee? Do you think she will be able to forget?”

Chapter 12

“You an’ youah fuckin’ college ways!” Jack muttered as he began to throw his clothing angrily into the battered valise.

Fred lit a cigarette without speaking.

Jack straightened up. “Better git youah things together. The man gave us until noon to git out.”

Fred got to his feet. “I’m goin’ out,” he said. He blinked as the morning sun hit his eyes; the sky was clear. It was going to be a scorcher. He cut across the parking lot to the beach and looked out across the Sound.

The water shimmered blue-green, and small white-crested waves broke across the deserted sand. He took off his shoes, rolled up his trouser cuffs to his knees and, holding his shoes in one hand, began to walk along the water’s edge. He took a deep breath of the sweet ocean air. Jack was right. It was a beautiful world—if you were white. It was nothing like this back in Harlem.

Less than a week had gone by since that night. The first day had been quiet. JeriLee had not come in to work, and neither Walt nor his friends had shown up at the club. Even Marian Daley had not appeared. Then suddenly in the afternoon the rumors began to fly.

One of the boys who were visiting Walt Thornton had wound up in the hospital at Jefferson, about thirty miles from Port Clare. He had a broken cheekbone, a fractured jaw and several caved-in ribs. It had been reported as an accident, the result of a bad fall. Perhaps it would have escaped notice, except that Walt too had cuts and bruises. It was enough to raise questions.

Meanwhile, Marian Daley’s mother had been checking around town among her daughter’s friends. Marian had not come home that night. By morning she had begun to worry. She traced her to Walt’s house and, when the telephone was not answered, decided to drive out there.

There had been no answer at the front door but when she discovered that it was unlocked she went inside. Finding no one on the main floor of the house, she went out the sliding doors to the pool. The whole area was a mess of overturned chaises and broken bottles. She stood for a moment, then went back into the house and picked up the telephone to call the police. It was then that she heard a sound coming from one of the bedrooms.

She had reached the top of the staircase just as Marian came out of the room. She was totally naked. As they stood there staring at each other in stunned surprise, a boy she did not know appeared in the doorway behind her daughter. He too was naked.

Mrs. Daley was the first to find her voice. “Get your clothes, Marian, and come with me.” Then she turned and went out to the car without waiting for an answer.

A few minutes later Marian came out and got into the car silently beside her mother. Without a word, her mother started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t until they were on the street that she spoke. “You’ve really done it this time, Marian. When your father finds out about it, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Marian began to cry. It took only two minutes for her to blurt out her version of what had happened. Her mother did not interrupt her. At the end she glanced at her daughter. “You say JeriLee came with you?”

“Yes,” Marian said quickly. “We were only going to go swimming. Then Bernie and Fred suddenly showed up. There was a terrible fight and they took JeriLee away with them.”

“Where’s Walt and the other boy?” her mother asked.

“He was hurt so badly that Walt took him over to Jefferson to the hospital,” Marian said.

“Why was the nigger there?” Mrs. Daley asked.

“I don’t know,” Marian said quickly. “But JeriLee is very friendly with him. They’re always together around the club.”

Mrs. Daley’s lips tightened. “I told Mr. Corcoran when he hired them that you couldn’t trust niggers. They have no respect for people.”

“What are you going to tell Daddy?” Marian asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know yet,” her mother said. “He’ll go crazy if he finds out that a nigger was out there and saw you like that. First I better have a talk with JeriLee’s mother and find out if she knows what her daughter’s been doing. Then I’m going to have a talk with Corcoran. If he wants to keep his memberships he better find a way to get rid of those niggers.”

***

The telephone on his desk rang just as he returned from lunch. He picked it up. “Randall speaking.”

“John?” Veronica was clearly upset.

A sudden fear clutched him. “Is JeriLee all right?” he asked quickly.

“Yes, but I just had a call from Mrs. Daley. She told me that boy is in the hospital at Jefferson, he was so badly beaten up.”

“Too bad,” John said sarcastically. “If it had been me I would have killed him.”

“That’s not it. She said that JeriLee was very friendly with the colored boy and that they had been running around together and that the reason they went out there was because he was jealous of her.”

“That’s crazy!”

“She said Marian was there. That she said that JeriLee went with them. Nobody said anything about taking her home.”

“The Daley girl’s a liar!” he exploded.

“She asked me if JeriLee got home all right.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said she did. Then she wanted to know who brought her home. I told her. She told me that she was going out to the club to talk to Mr. Corcoran about getting rid of the colored orchestra and that I ought to be more strict with JeriLee and not let her associate with people like that.”

“We can’t let that happen,” John said. “The boy deserves a medal for what he’s done. You call her back and tell her exactly what happened.”

“I can’t do that. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. She thinks JeriLee went there with her daughter. And even if she does believe me, the story will spread all over town like wildfire.”

“Better that than having the boy lose his job for something he’s not responsible for.”

“Nobody will believe that. They’ll all think that it’s JeriLee’s fault. We won’t be able to hold our heads up in this town. And you know how Mr. Carson feels about bank employees. One bad word and they’re finished.”

“He’ll believe the truth if I tell him,” John said. “I think I better go in and have a talk with him before this gets any further.”

“I think you ought to stay out of it.”

“I’m already in it. I can’t let that boy suffer for saving my daughter from being raped.” He put down the phone and walked to the rear of the bank and knocked on the glass door that partitioned off Mr. Carson’s office.

The bank president’s voice came through the door. “Come in.”

He opened the door and took a half step into the office. “Mr. Carson,” he said in a polite voice, still standing half across the threshold, “would you have a moment to spare?”

Mr. Carson looked up. “Of course, John,” he said in his nice-guy voice. “Any time. My door is always open. You know that.”

John nodded, even though it wasn’t true. He closed the door carefully behind him. “It’s a personal matter, Mr. Carson,” he said.

“No raises,” Carson said quickly. “You know our policy. We review once a year.”

“I know that, Mr. Carson. It’s not that. I’m perfectly satisfied with my compensation.”

Carson broke into a smile. “I’m glad to hear that. People never seem to be satisfied anymore.” He waved a hand at the chair opposite the desk. “Sit down, sit down. What is it you want to talk about?”

“It’s very confidential.”

“You don’t have to tell me, John. Anything said in here remains within these four walls.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carson. It’s about my daughter, JeriLee.”

Carson sighed. “You don’t have to tell me, John. I have children of my own. Problems, always problems.”

John lost his patience. “She was beaten up and almost raped last night!” he blurted out.

“My God!” Carson’s shock was genuine. “Is she all right?”

“Yes. Dr. Baker took care of her. He said she’ll be fine.”

Carson took out his handkerchief and mopped at his forehead. “Thank God. You’re very fortunate.” He put the handkerchief down on the desk. “I don’t know what this world is coming to. I hope you’ve caught the fiend responsible for it.”

“That’s just it,” John said. “Veronica thinks we shouldn’t say anything about it, that it would only expose JeriLee to further public shame.”

“There is something to what she says,” Carson agreed. “But you can’t let a man like that walk around. There’s no telling who he might pick on next time.”

“That’s the way I feel. But now it’s even worse than that. One of the boys who helped save JeriLee is going to lose his job because he tried to help her.”

Carson was not altogether stupid, and instinct told him that he had better learn more about what had happened. “Suppose you tell me the whole story from the beginning.”

He listened quietly while John told him what had happened. “I don’t see how the Daley girl is involved,” he said at the end of John’s story.

“Apparently she was there when it happened. JeriLee said she was still there when they left.”

“Did they do anything to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did her mother hear about it?”

John shrugged his shoulders.

The banker fell silent. It would be a simple matter if John were not an officer of the bank. “Did you talk to the police?” he asked.

“I was going to, but Veronica told me to wait. Perhaps I’d better do that now.”

“No,” Carson said quickly. “I think things like this are better handled privately.”

“How do I do that?” John asked. “I can’t just go over to Mr. Thornton and say, ‘Your son tried to rape my daughter,’ or to Mr. Daley and tell him that his daughter is a liar.”

“No,” Carson said thoughtfully.

“Meanwhile that poor boy is going to lose his job.”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t say this but I think it might be better for all concerned if you followed Mrs. Randall’s advice and just let the matter slide. As an officer of the bank, you must realize that Mr. Thornton maintains huge balances here and that Mr. Daley, as a home builder, steers us a tremendous amount of business. Something like this could very well lead them to place their business elsewhere.”

“That would be stupid.”

“Of course it would,” Carson said smoothly. “But you know customers. We’ve lost them for flimsier reasons. And these two are very important to us.”

“But what about the boy?”

“I’ll have a quiet talk with Corcoran at the club and see what I can do.” Carson got to his feet and came around the desk, placing his hand on John’s shoulder. “I know how you feel, but take my word for it. There are some things that are better left unspoken. The boy is only here for a few weeks anyway. But we have to continue to live in this town.”

John didn’t answer.

Carson dropped his hand from John’s shoulder. His voice took on a more businesslike tone. “By the way, I’ve heard via the grapevine that the state bank examiners might be paying us a surprise visit. I’d like you to review all the accounts just to make sure that everything’s in tiptop order.”

John got to his feet. “I’ll get on it right away, Mr. Carson.”

“Good,” Carson said. “The main thing is that your daughter is all right. Don’t worry about anything else. Things have a way of working themselves out.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” John said. He went back to his desk and sat down, a strange futility in him. Carson would do nothing. He knew that. It had all been spelled out very clearly. The bank’s business was the primary consideration. As usual.

It took Mrs. Daley only four days to get Fred fired.

Chapter 13

JeriLee was sitting on the porch when Dr. Baker came up the walk. He thought as he looked at her that the healing powers of the young never ceased to amaze him. The swelling around her nose had almost gone, and the puffy black and blue under her eyes had vanished completely. “I didn’t expect to find you out here,” he said.

“I got tired of staying in my room.”

He came up the steps. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Will I have any scars on my…?” She didn’t finish the question.

“No. You’ll have white marks where you were burned for a while, but eventually they’ll blend in and disappear.”

“Good,” she said in a relieved tone. “I was beginning to worry. They looked so bad.”

“You are getting better.” He laughed. It was good to see her vanity returning. “Come inside and let me have a look at you.”

They went up to her room. She undressed quickly without self-consciousness and wrapped a towel around her. He put his reflector on even though he really didn’t need it. He felt somehow that it made his examination seem more professional. She stretched out on the bed while he removed the dressings. Carefully he wiped away the ointment and studied the burns. After a moment he nodded with satisfaction. “You’re doing okay. I think we can leave the dressings off now. Just don’t wear anything that will be irritating.”

“You mean brassiere?”

He nodded.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? No one can see anything under your blouse.”

“That’s not it,” she said. “I bounce too much. It’s embarrassing.”

He laughed. “Walk slower, it will be all right.” He got to his feet. “I don’t have to come here anymore. Suppose you come down to my office in about a week and we’ll see how you are getting on.”