Chapter 13
IT WAS AN HOUR LATER WHEN DIANE, FINALLY FREED by the maniacal, irresponsible Cory Shelby, arrived home. Fearing a storm of accusations and questionings, she was immeasurably relieved to see that Ken was in a drugged sleep. A jet take-off in their bedroom wouldn't have awakened him.
So, feeling more dead than alive, her brain a smeared, watery canvas on which disgusting words were scribbled, she took her nightgown and went to the bathroom. For the next forty minutes she soaked and scrubbed her abused, aching body, making the bath substitute for an even more necessary, more impossible cleansing.
The memories, she wailed. I'll never be able to scrub them out.
When finally she came to bed, she slept a haunted, nightmarish sleep. In the morning she woke up with a nagging headache, found she ached in every muscle of her body.
"Wow," Ken said at breakfast, "that must've been some wingding you pitched last night, honey. I got home at one and you still weren't home. What time did you get in? Do those lectures usually run that late?"
"I went to a buffet afterward," Diane lied, thinking fast. "At Helene Marshall's. She managed to corner Brandon Donnelly, and the party went on longer than it should have. I got home a little before two. You were sleeping like a log. The way that man drinks..." she improvised. "The wild things he says ... Half of the women in Glendon Falls are still in a state of shock this morning I'll bet."
"And you?" Ken studied her. "No shock?"
"No," she said dispiritedly, averting her eyes. "I'm afraid nothing shocks me very much any more."
There seemed to be some subtle condemnation in her tone, an unsaid perception. Ken discreetly dropped the subject. He noticed, for the first time, what a lovely sunny day it was outside.
"I think I'll get at that lawn today," he said, pushing away from the table. "Maybe dig up those flower beds."
Flaxen-haired Carol, deserting her Saturday morning TV cartoons, came into the dinette at that moment. "Can I push, daddy? Can I push?" she squealed.
Ken Baylor was spooked that week as he'd never been spooked before. Try as he might he couldn't get remembrance of that orgiastic session at Tessa's apartment out of his mind. The dancing, grotesque pictures were painted in the most indelible, vivid oils; they were guaranteed to last for life.
And if the ugly visions weren't bad enough, there was the daily taunt of Patti Conte's presence in his classes, the secret, haunted glances they exchanged. She was definitely sinking; he'd never seen her look so sad and disturbed. Her problems were ganging up on her too. Something was bound to snap soon.
Besides, there was the strange lethargy that had taken Diane the past few days, there was Tessa's domineering nearness. Twice that week on Monday and Wednesday afternoons the libertine librarian had caught him alone in his classroom, had tried to coax him into another rendezvous, had promised him further untasted delights. But he'd been able to put her off.
And then on Thursday night, using the committee dodge again, he escaped the house to pick up Patti and drive to their secret hideaway in the country.
The net of retribution was slowly, irrevocably closing.
They huddled on their blanket, feeling safe and secure in their snug cave of foliage and grass, exulting in the balmy night, in the star-dripping skies. And yet, Ken admitted reluctantly, some of the bloom was off things. His ardor, his eagerness to involve himself in Patti's life was not as strong tonight. He was this hurt him to crystallize a little bit bored with her.
He blamed this on the excesses of the other night at Tessa's. He was going to be a long time recharging after that animalistic wallowing. Give yourself a minute, he temporized. I'll get there in a minute. There'll be the same old mildness. His mind raced ahead. And if that doesn't do the trick he lifted and clutched Patti's breast, felt her tremble I know something else that will.
But Patti had very disturbing news. Information that was to cast further pall over their tryst.
"I can't stand this any more," she gritted, clenching her body to his desperately. "This's like I'm on a treadmill, going nowhere. I'm going to run away, Ken. Just as soon as school's out. Honest I am."
"You're what?" he rasped. "Running away from home? Do you know what you're saying, what you're proposing to do? How do you think that'll solve any thing?"
"I don't care," she persisted. "There's no point in going on with things here. Last night Dad got tanked up, started talking about how they were going to redo the kitchen with the extra money I'd be earning from now on."
"But...." he felt strong affront to his ego, ". . . is that all that enters into your decision? What about us?"
"That's part too, dear," she said, her voice catching, becoming a near-sob. "I don't want this to end, but we're hopeless, we're wrong. We love each other, but where are we headed? You've got your wife, your children. I've got my parasite family. What chance do we have? We're going the wrong way on a one way street."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about us, about how crazy this all is. The odds are against us. We're going to get caught one of these days. And..." she did begin to weep now, ". . . your life will be ruined, your name will be dragged in the mud. I don't care about me; I've got no life to speak of "anyway. No real life I mean..."
He dragged her closer, kissed her again and again. But her lips were cold, unresponsive. "Patti, Patti," he soothed, "running away isn't going to solve anything. You're not equipped to cope with things on your own. Where will you go?"
"Chicago, I suppose. A person can get lost real easy there. I'll get a job somewhere, see if maybe I can get hold of myself. Perhaps I'll find a way to get to one of the universities there."
"Chicago?" he shot. "Are you crazy? That place is a jungle. They eat kids like you alive in that hellhole."
"Does it matter?" The sadness clogged her voice. "Does anything matter? I can't figure this out, Ken, none of this. I'm so confused. I think when I'm with you everything be all right. But then when I am I can't think straight either. Everything goes all haywire inside me. I only want to kiss you and hold you and . .
"And what?" Ken said
She dropped her head. "You know. Ken. Don't make me say that," she whispered. "You don't know how I get sometimes when I'm away from you."
"I think I do. Because I get the same way."
For the moment Patti's desperate, crazy plan was forgotten, other more vital things taking precedence. I'll get back to that later, Ken thought. Afterward I'll talk her out of that.
They stiffened, crouched lower in their grassy hollow as they heard a car rumble down the road. It was instinct mainly; Ken's Chevy was completely concealed behind the stand of bushes. But there was no intruder, the auto rammed past them doing fifty and passed out of sight.
Patti laid in solemn repose, staring at Ken, her eyes seeking his, probing them. There was an eerily tragic expression on that face. She made no effort to stop him as he begun undoing the buttons on her blouse, she was beyond prudery now. Ken had taught her well; there was nothing sinful or ugly about this beautiful sharing. He exalted her to perform this menial task.
She let Ken crouch near her, stare at her nude body as long as he wanted. She didn't shield herself with her hands, she made no concessions to false modesty. II this was what he enjoyed...
But finally, as his eyes lingered too long, as an errant breeze teased her nipples, crinkled and hardened them, she lost control, began to move on the blanket. She reached for Ken.
He was naked now also. They lay side by side. Ken's head was bowed, he was worshipping at the shrine of her breasts. His hands were making spine-tingling spirals on her velvety back.
In new found wantonness, almost as if sensing that this was to be their very last time, Patti let her hands wander also, she played paganly, let him know of her quickening need.
Then, overly impatient, she ministered to herself, using him in a devilish way, guaranteeing that their passion would be complete, totally transfiguring.
She sighed huskily. "Ken, oooh, Ken. You seem to gat better every time."
The stars seemed to glitter more fiercely, their light diamond hard and intense. They shimmered in galactic waves, seemed to dance before Patti's eyes. And she surrendered herself completely to this rampaging, bone-twisting ecstasy, throwing herself to the physical ramifications with all her strength.
Until she couldn't withhold her delight any longer. "Ken, darling, I love you. I love you. You're good, so very good..."
So involved were Ken and Patti in bringing this lovely mystery to full bloom that they didn't see the three figures who were stealthily crawling through the grass toward them. Too late they heard the snapping of a twig.
Then the loud, sneering voice cut the darkness. "Oh, Ken," the voice mimicked, "you're so good, so very good..."
Now a blazing, blinding light exploded in the grove. And they were frozen into immobility.
"I am, stupid," the first voice, more familiar now, crowed, "I am."
The flecks of blue light danced crazily in Ken's eyes, and he realized--A camera and flashbulbs.
Dazed as he and Patti were, they did a very foolish thing: They sat straight up, stared directly at the intruders.
A flashbulb popped again. And still again.
Then Ken recognized the voice. It was Vic Richardi. He now taunted: "You thought I forgot all about you, didn't you, Baylor? Well, I didn't. Not by a long shot. We'll get you now, we'll get you good. You'll be sorry you ever tangled with me."
Ken came up, went after the boys. But they fled, and Ken, in his bare feet, couldn't hope to catch them.
He came back to Patti, a bucket of concrete settled in the depths of his stomach. "Well...." was all he said.
"This's over now," she wailed softly. "This's done, all over."
"What..."he asked stupidly, trying to prod decision, "do we do now? What in the world do we do?"
"Hold me," Patti called in a thin, lost tone. "There's nothing we can do. Except maybe..."
"What?"
"Finish what we started. Please, Ken. This's the last time. I know that. I've felt that way all evening long. Please?"
This seemed the only logical thing to do. And Baylor fell to his knees beside her.
Their lovemaking was miserable, prolonged, a series of fitful stops and starts. But at the end they could say:
They were truthfully finished.