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Sunday night was interminably long. She had managed to get Jon to sleep in his new playpen in the corner of her room, but could not settle herself. It was a dark night. The sun had set within a halo of clouds, and the moon was not due to appear until late. A sprinkle of stars distinguished the blow of the sky from the heavy loom of the mountains. She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, cupped her chin in her palms, and dreamed.

The crickets were particularly loud this evening, and from high on the mountain came the howl that spelled bobcat. There was an aura of—waiting—about the night, but Katie was so deep in dreams that she could not pinpoint the source. She was waiting for the sound of wheels, for the return of that arrogant conceited man! She shrugged off the thought, and went back to her contemplation of the night. Little Katie, she told herself, all alone in the universe.

There was the brief piping of a nightingale’s song from the orchard, interrupted by the haunting call of a diesel locomotive, hurrying coal-loaded cars from the mines of West Virginia to the power plants of North Carolina.

Unable to conceal her laughter, and afraid she might wake the baby, she gave thought to something else— anything else—to do. The answer came on the caress of a tiny breeze, penetrating through to her conscience. The swimming pool! It was after eleven o’clock at night. Nothing stirred. The fact that she had no bathing suit with her was hardly a drawback, for there was no one to see.

She stripped off the little sun-dress she had worn all day, and changed her shoes for rubber clogs. She snatched up two of the huge red towels from her bathroom, and a warm robe, and stole downstairs and out to the edge of the pool. Not even a whisper of a breeze penetrated the guardian trees that surrounded the pool. She stretched up on her toes, shedding her robe, and as she did so the moon made its first appearance over the eastern ridges. Its silver light re-cast her from an ordinary mortal to a poised silver goddess. She tingled in the light, shed her utilitarian briefs, wrapped her toes over the edge of the concrete apron, and dived deep into the warm waiting waters.

It was like receiving a velvet welcome. Freshly fed from the mountain stream that meandered across the meadow, but constantly warmed by the solar collectors and electrical heaters, it lacked the overpowering sting of chlorination that destroys the enjoyment of most pools. She came up half-way down the pool, and coasted to the end with three or four powerful breast strokes. She shook the water from her hair and face, poised with feet flat against the wall of the pool, took a deep breath, and plunged in an Australian crawl, her legs churning the water like a paddle wheel. So intent was she on her goal that she did not hear the noises at the poolside.

After six laps at full speed, she had had enough. She coasted the last few feet to the deepest end and, using her forward momentum, vaulted up and out, to stand dripping on the concrete. She had landed again in the pool of moonlight, feeling exhilarated, reaching back into her primeval past to become one with nature.

She turned back to the edge of the pool, a silver sprite, curling her toes again over the edge of the apron and leaning slightly forward. And then froze in startled shock as two huge masculine hands wrapped themselves around her from the rear, treasuring her tiny breasts and pulling her back against the hard masculine figure behind her.

The shock was momentary, her reaction instant. Without a pause to enquire she pulled herself forward into a shallow racing dive, and hit the water with a splash, tipping the man behind her into the pool. The hands slackened their grip almost instantly. She used the moment to race away to the shallow end of the pool, barely escaping his clutching fingers. No sooner had she hurtled herself out of the water than the man, fully clothed, managed the same feat.

‘Now that was a devil of a thing to do,’ Harry King mourned at her. ‘Look at my new suit!’ He was busy stripping it from him before she could make up her mind what to do next. Her mind said run! Surely no man with
his
trousers half off could catch a woman who wore only moonbeams? But her body disregarded the order. Her own body held her in thrall, prisoner to the rapidly denuded male figure, whose every attractive inch sparkled in the moonlight.

‘Well, you deserved it,’ she snapped at him. ‘You— you’re like an octopus, Harry King. And what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Atlanta with Eloise!’ Her eyes swivelled wildly, spotting the towels she had dropped. Her feet carried her in their direction. He followed, snatching one of them up before she could claim it for protection.

‘But I’m not, and you’re glad,’ he returned. ‘You’ve been sitting up waiting for me to come back, and here I am. Lucky you!’

‘Lucky me?’ she squeaked. ‘I never had it so good, caught out with a man with no clothes on? Just what in the world do you think you’re doing, Mr King?’ It was hard to keep her voice cool and decisive. Especially since he had picked up the other towel and was advancing on her.

‘Why, I’m just drying you off,’ he said solemnly. ‘Why do you always put the worst possible interpretation on everything I do?’ He had completely enveloped her now, wrapping her tightly in the huge red towel, and sealing her in with the strength of his arms. For just a moment she relaxed, pleased beyond words to be in that shelter. And then her conscience began to niggle at her, and she tried to fight her way out.

‘Hey,’ he laughed, ‘calm down. I’m only drying you off.’ And it was true that his hands were gently rubbing her down, through the heavy fibre of the towel. But there were too many gaps where the towel did not fit, and where his hands continued to wander.

‘Stop that! At once!’ she hissed at him. ‘At once!’

‘Of course,’ he said, but his hands kept wandering.

‘Stop that!’ she half-screamed at him. But even as she voiced the wish, her mind told her it was not what she wanted. The towel had disappeared, and his steel arms were pressing her against his hard frame, her breasts crushed against his ribs, his hands wandering up and down her back, pressing her even closer. And every movement sent storm signals up her spine. ‘Stop that,’ she whispered against the tough skin over his heart, knowing that he couldn’t hear, but protesting anyway, for the sake of her conscience. He pushed her slightly away, far enough so he could look down at her face, not so far that their hips broke contact.

‘What’s that?’ he chuckled. ‘You don’t even know what you want, do you?’

‘Of course I do,’ she flared, her temper finally aroused. ‘I want to be free of you, and to run—’

His hands dropped away from her, leaving her surprisingly chilled in the warmth of the night. She was trembling, uncontrollably shaking. ‘So?’ he laughed. ‘Run away! You’ll never have a better chance!’

She knew it to be true. Run away, her brain commanded. If you stay here you may never be free again. Run away! But her legs refused the order. She stood not more than two inches from him, with some of her muscles dragging her away, and others holding her still. She shook until her teeth chattered but not from the cold.

‘You see,’ he whispered softly, insidiously. ‘You don’t even know what you want. Relax. Let go. Do what you really want to do.’

Do what I really want to do? Here? All the years of her strict training were set immovably against what she really wanted to do! How could anything be so difficult to decide? Her trembling over-set her. She froze her muscles into rigid lines, stopped the tremors, and looked up at him. Do what you want to do! The silver moon, changing every colour to its own needs, seemed to have re-designed the world, changing it into a fairy wonderland completely removed from reality. Do what you want to do! She moved forward those tiny two inches, reached her hands up around his neck, and kissed him gently on one cheek. It was the first time in her life that she had ever instigated a kiss with an adult male. She giggled at herself, and as she laughed his head turned, and his lips were on hers, passively waiting. She took a deep breath, tilted her head slightly, and pressed against him with all her passionate strength.

As if waiting for that signal, his arms came around her again, holding her gently, hands roving from the curve of her hip up to the small of her back. Fire struck her down, breaking her concentration into small splinters, surrounding her with a shower of emotional meteorites, until he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the soft grass at the poolside.

He laid her down gently in the welcome arms of the grass, and then dropped down beside her. His face shadowed hers, blocking out the moonlight, leaving her face in welcome darkness. He shifted his head as he trailed a line of kisses down her chin, her throat, and finally at the quivering peak of her breast.

And only then did sanity regain control. ‘No!’ she whispered, and then louder, ‘No!’

He drew back slightly, trying to search out her face, but the shadows saved her. ‘It’s what you want,’ he reminded her.

‘No!’ she replied, more strongly than before. ‘Let me go!’

His head lowered towards her mouth again, but she intercepted it with both hands pressed between her lips and his. ‘No,’ she repeated, ‘I—I’m not—’

‘But it is what you want,’ he insisted. She could see the gleam of his teeth as he smiled down at her.

‘I—perhaps,’ she confessed honestly, ‘but I can’t. Not without love. I just can’t.’

‘Chicken,’ he laughed, drawing back from her. Somehow she managed to squirm out from under him, sitting up in the grass, using her hands to cover her breasts.

‘Laugh if you want to,’ she said bitterly. ‘I didn’t ask for any of this. I—what kind of a man are you, Harry King? You spend the whole weekend in Atlanta with Eloise, and then you come back here and molest me.’

‘Ah, that’s it,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s the “Eloise to Atlanta” bit that’s upset you. A little jealousy going here?’

‘No such thing!’ she fired back at him. ‘Although how in the world you can expect me to—and what about Eloise?’

‘What about Eloise?’

‘Your aunt said that you—you and Eloise would—’

'Ah,’ he chuckled. ‘My aunt said!’

‘Yes, and so did Eloise. So why don’t you leave me alone and go relieve your male drives with her!’ Katie scrambled to her feet, poised like a fawn, ready to break and run, if only she could know in which direction safety lay. He got up with her, standing with hands on hips, whistling.

‘Well, aren’t you going to say anything?’ she demanded.

‘Of course I’ll say something,’ he returned, with that monstrous grin on his face. ‘The weekend was a great success. I have finally managed to solve Eloise’s problem. She’s staying over in Atlanta to buy her trousseau. I’ve given her a big cheque, and she’ll be along on Tuesday or Wednesday for our little local celebration. Aren’t you happy for her?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, knowing that her heart denied it, knowing that the fairy garden had just turned into a deep, dark chilling cavern. Knowing that, despite the brightness around her, the moon had fallen from the sky and had broken into a million dusty pieces. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, ‘I hope that—that she—and—I hope—’ The words were too much for her. She turned on one silvery heel and fled into the darkness towards the house, holding her tears in check until she was safely in her room, with the door closed. And then she cried silently for all her unrealisable dreams.

After
putting behind her a weekend that left her feeling somewhat lower than a snake’s belly, Katie made every effort to keep out of the way. On Monday her efforts were successful. After a breakfast of cereal and silence, he disappeared for the rest of the day.

‘Gone inventing,’ Aunt Grace commented. ‘Down cellar.’

Katie sighed, and busied herself with Jon, the kitchen, and housekeeping chores, in that order. That night Harry was absent from the supper table, for which Katie gave another sigh of relief, until his aunt spoiled the world with another one-line comment. ‘Gone down to Johnson City,’ she commented. ‘To pick up Eloise at the airport.’

Katie hurried Jon through his supper, then packed him off upstairs, locking their door behind her, and never once stirring outside for the rest of the night—not even when she heard the car return, and Harry call up the stairs for her.

I’m asleep, she told herself, diving under the covers to prove it to herself. Her doorknob rattled as she hid in the darkness, and then footsteps went away. Eventually she was able to sleep.

But on Tuesday her luck ran out. She had sent her negatives to Erwin to be processed, since colour was beyond her meagre equipment, and one of the films had been returned with a flicker of movement in its corner. She found Harry alone in the kitchen, and screwed up her courage to ask.

‘Go back to the same place?’ he repeated. ‘Easy, Katie.’

‘I wouldn’t ask, except it’s right in the middle of the panorama,’ she stammered. ‘I hate to ask you—’

‘Why don’t we go right now,’ he suggested. ‘Aunt Grace could watch Jon for a couple of hours, and Eloise won’t wake up until noontime, at the earliest.’

So once again they were in the Jeep, riding up the side of the mountain, and out on to the flat saddle where they had stopped before. Ten minutes of walking, with only two cameras to weigh her down, brought them to the edge of the cliff. Rather than take another chance, Katie set up the Hasselblatt and re-took the entire panorama. But there was something in the distance that intrigued her: a little notch in the opposite hills through which the Nolichucky River ran, on its way to join the French Broad, and eventually to become the Tennessee River.

‘I want to get one more shot with the Minolta,’ she called to him, ‘but I can’t quite get the angle.’

‘How about up on this cairn of rock,’ he suggested. She looked at the natural pile that stood out from the rest of the area, like a pillar from a ruined Greek temple.

‘I don’t think I could climb it,’ she said hesitantly.

‘It’s not so bad,’ he laughed. ‘Watch. ’ He went around to the back. She could hear his hands and feet scrabble against the sides, and a grunt or two as he powered his way up, then there he was, some ten feet above her, calling down.