Chapter 5
I CLUNG TO JOE, AND FELT TEARS WELLING into my eyes. It had been so long-so terribly long!
It was some time before I realized that I was doing most of the hugging. I pulled back and searched his face. I wasn't ready for what I saw there: he seemed actually disappointed.
"Joe...." I murmured. "Aren't you glad to see me."
His voice came back to me, low, a little raspy. "I'm not sure, Mary."
He must have read the disappointment in my face, because he quickly took my shoulders in his strong hands and pulled me to him. He kissed me quickly on the lips.
"I didn't mean that. Mary ... sure ... sure I'm glad to see you. But-my God, in a place like this! Why did you do it?"
"To be with you, darling."
"It's crazy. It's the craziest thing I've ever heard of. When some of the men told me that a Mary Gray was the new nurse, I just didn't connect you with the name. And when they described you...."
"Oh, Joe, I thought you would be so pleased."
We fumbled our lips together again and kissed passionately.
"God, it's been so long ... so long, Mary!" he whispered throatily. His hands made smooth, searching movements over my back, pulling me closer, crushing my breasts against the gray jacket of his prison clothes. "You don't know what it's been like, all these months without you. You don't know...."
"It's been the same with me, Joe. I've missed you terribly. That's why I had to do something about it. I knew you couldn't come to me, so I decided to come to you."
I told him how I decided against going to college, and instead had entered the nursing profession. I told him of the long, lonely months of hard work that had testified to my determination, of how I had to convince my father that I was doing the right thing; and how-hardest of all-I had begged him to use his influence with Warden Baker to get me placed in the prison dispensary.
He listened with wide-eyed wonder, and a twinkle of admiration and what I believed was love, shone through his eyes. But there was something else there, too; something dark and almost threatening; something that disturbed me very much.
"Joe, I know we won't be able to meet often or the way we'd like to; at least the way I would like to; but maybe if we can just snatch a few minutes together sometimes, then it will be worth it. It's not as if the walls were between us, now."
The look in his eyes deepened now to a kind of sadness, and then a faint, vague irritation. He dropped my hands from his own and turned to face the window. He shook his head.
"You shouldn't have done it, Mary. Damn, if I had only known what you were planning."
I studied his profile. Despite myself I remembered the scene yesterday-the scene I had witnessed through the keyhole. It seemed that that was another man: it wasn't the Joe I knew, the gentle, intelligent, respectable Joe that I had know. That was another man; perhaps a part of him, but not the real him-only the darker side of his sexual nature. And again I was struck by the clear truth of what I felt: there was no anger nor jealousy in my feeling. I really pitied Joe a little for what he had been practically forced to do with Stella Baker. Nowall of that would be different. I was sure that whatever sensual impulses Joe might feel would be directed toward me. And if those impulses became more than he could manage, then I would satisfy them some way, through some desperate minutes stolen from under the noses of the prison authorities.
If Stella Baker could do it, then I could do it. The difference would be that Joe and I loved each other.
"You shouldn't have come here," Joe was saying again, shaking his head and grinding the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other. He turned back to me, his face drawn, his eyes colorless and hard.
"Joe...." I breathed, feeling suddenly hurt and wounded. "I thought that...."
"You don't understand, Mary. It's something that I don't dare talk about to you, but...."
"You don't have to talk about it, Joe. I understand. I know all about it." I tried to let a smile warm up that suddenly cold expression of his.
He stared at me. "You know about it?" he gasped.
"Yes. I was in the room yesterday when you and Stella ... well, when you made love. Except that I think that's the wrong word for...."
"My god! You saw us?"
"Yes. I didn't mean to, Joe, but I did. And I want you to know that I under...."
His laughter broke my words off cruelly. I felt blood rushing quickly to my face. I turned away, and he caught me by the arm.
"Mary ... Mary, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that when you said you knew, I thought you were talking about something else. Not about Stella Baker."
I dropped my eyes away from him. I was blushing scarlet now. "I'm ... I'm sorry you take what you did so lightly," I whispered. "I certainly didn't."
He swung me around and tucked his index finger under my chin, tilting my face up to his. He smiled at me affectionately. "Mary ... you know I didn't mean that. Stella Baker means nothing to me. I wouldn't wipe my feet on her. She's just ... release, that's all. She's a whore; she does that with a lot of the men. Behind the Warden's back, of course. But she gets away with it."
"But it's so brutal and filthy ... to do it behind Warden Baker's back!"
He smiled at me again. "You forget, Mary. You're not a prisoner here, but we are. We have no love for the Warden. We've been locked behind these bars for a long time. Sex-at least the kind of sex that can keep a man a man-is next to impossible. Stella Baker performs a good function, in a sense."
"She said you loved her."
He gave a short, pitiless laugh. "Love ... she doesn't know the meaning of the word. Maybe she fancies that she does what she does for love, maybe that makes it easier to live with herself. But we know better. She does it for the sheer animal enjoyment of it-for the physical act of fornication. She's a pig. She can't get enough of it. And we do it for the same reason."
"But if you got caught...."
"You learn to take chances in prison, Mary; even a lot more chances than you might take on the outside. Men behind bars are much more desperate than you might think. It isn't human to lock a man up and deprive him of every damned thing that he once took for granted."
I shrugged desperately. "But you were put in here for rape."
The warmth retreated swiftly from his eyes. He looked at me for a long, painful second, then shook his head slowly. "You still believe that, don't you?" he breathed.
"Joe ... I'm only saying...."
"You still believe I took an innocent, fourteen-year-old girl and forced myself on her. You still think she screamed and tore her hair and yelled rape like an old maid!"
"The jury...."
"Juries and judges be damned! I was framed. That little slut was the high school punchboard. She was a Stella Baker in the making. Hell, if you want to know the truth, that little bitch was on top of me most of the time...."
"Don't, Joe...."
"I'm sorry, Mary. I don't mean to shock you, but I think it's time you knew the truth. I'm not a rapist. There are men behind these walls who are, believe me. There are men who would violate their own mothers to satisfy the grinding need for sexual pleasure. But I'm not one of them. I never was. I was just a green kid who decided I might as well avail myself of some easy sex."
I waited for several seconds. I could feel my heart pounding under the starched blouse of my uniform. I could barely bring myself to ask the next question, but it was one that cried out for an answer.
"If what you say is true, Joe, then why did the girl say you raped her?"
"Because of you, Mary."
I stared at him, pain searing into my head. "Me?" I echoed.
"Yes. She found out that I had asked you to marry me and-well, she was jealous. I didn't think she had the capacity for feeling anything but the immediate moment of sexual lust. She seemed that way ... with everybody. But I didn't know enough about women. She was in love with me. And if she couldn't have me, she said she would destroy me. She damned nearly did!"
"Oh, Joe," I cried, holding him close to me. "Why didn't you tell me that before!"
His mouth nudged close to my ear. I could feel his breath, warm and tender against my skin. "Because I wanted you to forget me, Mary. I really did. I love you so much that ... that I wanted to die rather than to have your name dragged through the stink of that court."
"Oh, Joe ... then that's why you didn't want me to write you."
"Yes."
"But don't you see that it didn't matter to me."
"I said you might forgive me, but that you could never forget what that jury said. I didn't think it would be fair to you, and at the time, I didn't think it was fair to me."
I fumbled my hands around his face and kissed him again. "And do you still believe-I don't trust you ... don't love you?" I murmured.
He searched my eyes and was about to speak when we heard footsteps on the gravel path outside. We sprang apart just as Dr. Hawkins came in the door. He glanced at Joe and nodded and then he looked at me.
He seemed to weigh the color in my cheeks, the sparkle in my eyes. I waited to see if he would challenge that tell-tale look in my face, but he merely set his battered hat on the rack and worked his arms back through his white smock.
"Never knew you to have a day's pain, Joe," he said, quietly. And then he glanced at me. "I suppose you've been taking care of whatever ails the man, nurse?" he quipped.
I nodded. "Yes, doctor, I have."
Before Joe left, I was able to have a whispered conversation with him. He asked me to meet him at the prison chapel at ten o'clock the next morning. I wasn't sure that I could make it, but I promised to try.
The next day our traffic of patients was heavier, and I had no chance at all to slip away. I felt that I couldn't jeopardize my job by just disappearing from the dispensary, no matter how badly I wanted to be with Joe.
I wondered too, how much Dr. Hawkins knew of my real reasons for coming to Mason Reformatory. Perhaps Warden Baker had told him everything and perhaps he had told him nothing. Either alter-native was logical, and both were possible. I couldn't take the chance of revealing my own secrets for fear I would be mis-guessing the doctor's knowledge and his reactions. After all, he had already given me the warning that any involvement with the prisoners would be very unwise. His opinion on that matter couldn't be questioned.
A little after lunchtime, one of the prisoners gave me a particularly searching look. I thought nothing of it, since I was becoming accustomed to the stares and the lustful winks of every other man who came through the door. But just as this particular prisoner was about to leave, he caught the opportunity to shove his face close to mine while the doctor was busy in another part of the dispensary.
"Joe says to meet him when you get off work-same place," the man hissed.
He was gone before I had time to question him.
The prison grapevine, I thought, is not only long but effective.
I was excited all the rest of the afternoon. I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice and my work, and if I wasn't successful there was never any indication from the doctor. I even puttered around for a few extra minutes after closing time for the dispensary. When the doctor insisted that I go home, I slowly found my purse and short blue cloak and left.
During my lunch hour I had studied the layout of the reformatory from a little map that was pinned on the bulletin board. According to the map, the chapel was in a small cove of elms not too far from the warden's home. It was always open for prisoners who had permission to go from the main enclosure. Otherwise it was used only on Sundays for the regular services.
I carefully avoided going by the warden's house for fear Stella might be stationed at the front window, watching me with a jealous and suspicious eye. Instead I took the long way around and came up to the chapel from the opposite direction.
As advertised, the chapel door was open. I stepped into the cool grayness of the place. It "was empty, the pews shining and ready for worshipers. At the end of the aisle was a simple alter with a gleaming metal cross. A small, rectangular stained-glass window rose above it, and that, together with some smaller windows down the sides of the chapel, provided the only light.
"Joe...?" I called, uncertainly.
There was no answer.
I waited a moment longer. Perhaps he hadn't been able to come, I thought. I had almost turned to go when I heard a shuffle of footsteps toward the front of the chapel. I looked and saw Joe beckoning to me. I hurried down the aisle toward him. We embraced and he kissed me softly.
"I'm glad you could come. Did anybody see you?" he whispered.
"I don't think so."
"Good ... maybe we can have a little while together. Quick, the room back here."
We ducked into a small room behind the altar. It was obviously a supply room where the mops and brooms, choir books, and other paraphernalia for the chapel were kept. Joe shut the door behind us and snapped the lock.
We stood looking at each other for a moment. I felt that I had waited the long months in nursing school for just this instant: to be alone-if only for a few minutes-with the man I loved.
We came into each other's arms again with a kind of frantic hurry.
We kissed, remembering the old feeling-the kisses of an earlier, happier time in our lives. It was so easy to slide back into that comfortable world with Joe. I knew that no man's lips could move me the way his did. I clung to him desperately, shamelessly.
"Darling," he husked. "God, you don't know how many times I've dreamed about holding you like this."
"Me, too," I insisted.
His body, pressing against mine, made my blood surge madly through my veins. I didn't feel that I was a girl any longer, but a mature woman. This was what I had wanted, and I wasn't to be denied it another second. I remembered with a kind of frantic pain the many times I had longed for Joe to hold me, to kiss me like this-and had had to be contented with a good-night peck and a whisper of romantic love.
All that had changed now.
We were more grown up, and we were most honest with each other. There was no pretense, no disguising of the physical need that had driven me out of my comfortable world as the daughter of Philip Gray and into the shadows of a prison. If that didn't convince Joe that I loved and needed him, then nothing would.
And the pressure of Joe's fingers against my shoulder blades, the fumbling scratch at the hooks of my bra, told me that he, too, was no longer acting out a role. He needed me, and he had always needed me. If only he had brought that need out into the open from the very beginning, then we wouldn'tbe standing here, defiling the small room of this chapel with a love that was both holy and profane.
But I didn't care now how holy the place was. There was no purity that went beyond the depth of my feeling for Joe; and if that was sacrilege, then God in His heaven would have to make the most of it!
I loved Joe, and if he wanted my body, then I was bound to give myself to him. I was determined that Stella Baker would never have cause again to trap him into the cobwebbed passion of her sinful lust.
I reached up and opened my blouse and drew his hands around. I pushed the tips of his fingers gently inside my blouse. I drew my warm mouth close up to his.
"Take me, darling," I breathed. "Right here ... right now!"