Chapter 2
Diedre left the seminary after her third class. She knew full well the risk she was taking in cutting an entire afternoon, but by this time she didn't care too much. The classrooms, the entire atmosphere of the school, were closing in on her so rapidly that to have stayed would have been intolerable.
As she walked past the orchard behind Pyne Hall she felt her self-consciousness begin to slip away. The morning was still young and fine. She strolled casually, following her first outburst of energetic walking, and began to forget this spring in which her life had become so lonely, unhappy and almost frightening. She tried to pretend she was still a child, not a young woman odd and different from her contemporaries at the Seminary. She tried to forget the hopelessness she'd known the past few months-hopeless of ever being loved, of ever being popular, of ever being anything other than a red-headed Irish outsider. She remembered the lonely, secret happiness she had known before the girls had impressed her with its meaninglessness.
As she reached a rise in the hill, she looked back at the Seminary, stern and forbidding even in the bright April sunlight. From this distance she tried to pretend it was a gay, happy place; a place to which she'd want to return after the day's adventure. She sighed softly, and turned to walk up the white, stony road that led to the village of Hartmann.
As she neared the little village she noticed, as though for the first time, the well-kept fields, the soft hills, the river beds and swamp that stretched around her. She felt alert, aware and all of the tensions were running out of her. Then she saw the men, and almost at once her relaxation departed and she was filled with fear. Not so much of them as of herself.
There were three of them, all in their early twenties and, from the rough but serviceable clothes they wore, obvious natives of the fishing town. They spotted Deedee at the same instant and began to laugh jovially among themselves. As they drew nearer the tallest of the group called out to her.
"Hello, there. Looks like the school lost one of its lovelier inmates to the weather."
She didn't answer, but clenched her fingers within her gloves and forced herself to go on walking, looking neither to right nor left.
"Oh, come on now. It's not gonna kill you to speak to one of the 'townies,' you know."
"Let her alone, Bud," a second of the trio spoke out. "If she wanted to talk to us she would. If she's a snob, that's her privilege."
Deedee couldn't resist turning to look at the man who thought her timidity was snobbishness. Lord knows, she thought to herself, I've been snubbed so much the past few months it's the last thing Vd want to do to anyone-even a fisherman's son. She hated herself for the thought, and by way of apology flashed a brilliant smile at the second speaker. "Thanks for the privilege, but it's one I want no part of."
He laughed merrily. "You can't be from the Seminary then. I understand it's one of the most important of all qualifications."
"You understand the truth, stranger. But even the great EPS isn't infallible. They goofed when they let me in."
Deedee liked this man already. Somehow he seemed different than the other two, and his accent was not that of New England. He was tall but almost girlishly slender, dark enough to indicate that his ancestors had been of Latin blood, and he moved with an air of repressed energy that matched the rebellion so familiar to her.
"Pat Aniel's my name, and I never thought I'd see an Edith Pyne girl I could like. I have a feeling I'm going to end up glad that they finally goofed."
"I'm Deedee Ryan," she said, laughing back at him, "and I have a feeling you're absolutely right. Tell me," she added, forgetting all of her subconscious fears and scruples, as well as what might happen if the school ever heard about this, "do you know Hartmann? I mean you don't speak like a native, but I'd like to sight-see this beautiful afternoon, and I've never really-"
"Say no more, Deedee. You have yourself an escort. You don't mind, I trust, if we leave our two friends here behind?"
The girl looked shyly at the two men who'd been witness to the pickup. Both faces were filled with simple, warm friendliness. Why, she thought, they act as though they like me. She smiled, and addressed her next words to the tallest one who had started the conversation in the first place. "You don't mind if I steal your buddy for the rest of the day, do you?"
"Be my guest, Deedee. We didn't have any special plans so you're not interrupting a thing. Plus which, Pat knows the village and its sights better than any of us natives. Have fun, both of you." With a quick bow and a friendly wink, he latched his arm in his other friend's arm and they walked jauntily down the stony road.
Later that afternoon Pat and Deedee sat in a small but picturesque little tavern. He sipped on a mug of hot rum as he watched her add a second dash of cream to her coffee.
"It's been such a wonderful day, Pat. You really do know this little place. You know-" she leaned forward confidentially-"I just realized that I've been so busy asking questions about Hartmann that I know little or nothing about my escort. How is it that you know so much about the place? Your friend said you weren't a native."
"I'm an artist. I was raised in Washington, D.C., but since my first day in art school I've wanted to live in New England. I don't know ... there's just something about the place-its coastline, its rocky farms, its magnificent scenery and seasons. I can't think of a more perfect place for an artist."
"What do you paint?"
"I'm still too enthused to be a specialist, so I paint anything and everything that comes to mind. I have a studio on the Old Rhode Island Road. Would you like to see some of my stuff?
Deedee looked at him quickly, disappointed at the obvious invitation. But the expression in his eyes was not that of a wolf on the prowl. She was, once again, ashamed of her own distrust. "I'd love to, Pat. It won't take too long, will it? I hate to say so but I'm going to have to go back to jail soon."
He chuckled sympathetically. "Poor kid. That place must really be a drag. Come on, we can walk it in five minutes."
Pat's studio was a big, bare and messy barn of a place with canvases stacked carelessly against the walls and one long, high table cluttered with tubes of paint and brushes. He showed her his pictures with a sharp impatience, almost snatching one from her hands in his hurry to show her a second. Deedee was confused by them, slightly awed by the power in some of them and frightened by the brutality of others. She sat back on the old couch and watched him move among the paintings; listened to him talk in a hurried, passionate voice about his work. She became so immersed in the drama of it that she lost track of the passing hours and was almost shocked when he abruptly stacked the last one back against the wall and said: "Christ, Deedee, it's about to get dark. We'd better get you back to school or you'll be either kicked out or locked in!"
She jumped up from the couch and almost tripped over an easel in her hurry to get her coat. "You don't have to go with me, Pat. I know the way. And thanks for the most perfect day I've had since I entered E.P. As a matter-of-fact, just about the most perfect day in my life!"
"I'll walk you to the orchard, Dee. And don't thank me. I'm the one who had all the fun." As he opened the door of his studio he looked down at the beautiful redhead. "Can you get out again soon, Deedee? Without any trouble? I've just found you, and I'd hate to lose you to that place."
"I'll get out, Pat. As soon as I can. You have no phone, though. How can I let you know?" She bit her lower Up as she fell into the delightful pattern of deception which was to be her life for the rest of her days at the Seminary.
"Leave a message at the tavern. I'm there at some time everyday." He grinned at her. "I'll probably become an alcoholic now, if you keep me waiting too long."
As they walked out of the studio Deedee suddenly knew that she'd fallen terribly in love.
It was the second Saturday in May before Deedee managed to get her first overnight pass from the Seminary. The pass was accomplished by much planning and one fake phone call plus one forged letter. Deedee felt as though she'd just won a medal. She and Pat had planned to drive into Providence and have one of the famous Shore Dinners, then go dancing until the clubs closed. Pat had made separate reservations for them, even going so far as to have them in separate hotels just in case they were seen.
It was after sundown when she arrived at his studio, the first time she'd ever seen it at night. The glow from the fireplace softened the big room, and everything took on an aura of warmth. As she walked in they both began to laugh happily. At long last they could look forward to an evening of fun without the fear of the "den-mother" setting up an alarm for a missing student. Deedee flopped upon the old couch and took a cigarette from her purse. As Pat leaned over to light it their eyes met. He pushed the cigarette away and, lifting Deedee gently, pressed his firm lips against hers. She tried to push him away, a weak effort that failed.
"Don't try to stop me, darling," he murmured the words as if talking in. his sleep. "My darling, beautiful Diedre. My lovely little girl with the copper-colored curls, the soft, soft girl-flesh...."
She could feel his hands moving searchingly about her body as he kissed her once again with a hard urgency. He was leaning her back toward the couch, kissing her neck, then her lips again, lost in his desire. All of Deedee's nature was fighting against her, drawn up into a hard core of desire to give herself completely to this dear person.
Somehow, she managed to defeat it and, twisting herself swiftly from his embrace, knocked him back onto the couch and walked impatiently to the fireplace. As she stared at the flames, she felt shattered and shocked by the emptiness she already knew; the loneliness she'd found in that short walk across the room. Her entire being yearned toward him, needed him, insisted upon having him. Something entirely alien from her thoughts propelled her back across the room to her man. She sat softly beside him and leaned her cheek against his.
"I love you, Pat. I've loved you since the day I met you. If you want me, I'm yours. Go to the tavern and call Providence. Cancel our reservations. We'll stay here."
"Oh, baby, baby, baby. I didn't mean this to happen tonight. You mustn't think this is why I asked you to get the pass. We'll go to the city. And after the evening's over-if you still want to-we'll come back here. All right?"
"All right, Pat. But we don't have to wait-" His lips closed over hers to end the sentence. They never did get to Providence.