Chapter 20

The house was dark when April returned. She did not bother to turn on lights but went sdendy up the stairs. No sound came from Peg's room. April reached her own, closed the door and hurried to undress.

She awakened the next morning to a familiar room but, when she recalled yesterday's happenings, a changed world. She sat up in bed and looked about, knowing that she would not be here much longer. She threw off a sudden feeling of depression and jumped out of bed.

Peg, dressed for school, greeted her downstairs in her usual manner, except that her voice was a little subdued. April worked up a smile, a casual reply and helped with the breakfast, Peg maintained her pretense that nothing had happened, talking a bit worriedly of students in her classes who might not make the grade. April listened, replied shortly as she ate. Once, when she looked up suddenly, she caught Peg's eyes on her, filled with regret and longing. They hastily veiled and Peg talked volubly about her next term's schedule.

April felt relieved when Peg left. She gave her colleague credit for trying to bring things back to normal and wistfully wished she could go along with the effort. She did like Peg, no matter what had happened. She wondered as she drove to school if it might not just be possible to stay on, heal over the scar and eventually push it into a forgotten past. It might be worth the try, she tentatively decided, then pushed the problem aside as she turned into the school parking lot.

She felt the air of sober, intent quiet as she stepped into the school corridor. Students flowed along the halls between classes as usual, but the careless laughter and talk were missing. Each seemed intent on meeting the test to come, elated or depressed over the test just taken.

It seemed to April that the class hours dragged. She passed out examination papers, saw the students settle to the quiz and then could do nothing but move slowly about the room, making sure there were no hidden notes or cheating. When the final bell rang, she collected the papers and went on to her next class.

She dreaded the chemistry class but at last, deliberately a little late, she opened the door and stepped in. The students looked up and their eyes instantly fastened on the sheaf of examination papers. Bill Collins slumped in his chair, watching her.

She briefly announced the test, a matter of routine, and started passing out the question papers. Bill stood up and came to her, held out his hand. She hesitated, then gave him the sheets. She walked to her desk, thoughtfully watching him move down the aisles. He returned to his seat and started to work.

She moved slowly around the perimeter of the room as pens moved industriously. She stood in the rear of the room and looked over the rows of heads bowed to the test. Her eyes moved on, rested on Bill's wide shoulders and muscular back.

She held his friendly willingness to help in some suspicion. Like the child he really was, she thought, Bill wanted her approval and good graces as a wedge to make her change her mind. She sighed, shook her head and moved on.

The class ended and each student brought up his test paper to her desk as he left. Bill came last, taking his time, so that he and April were alone. He gave her the paper, then stood before her desk, hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

She said firmly, "No extra work tonight, Bill. That's over for the term."

"I know that."

"Then-" She glanced toward the door. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Bill, we did all our talking last night. There's nothing more to be said."

He grimaced, turned and dropped back into his chair. He eyed her and she braced for what she knew would come.

"April, I didn't go back to the Corners last night."

"I'm glad of that. Something accomplished."

"I was mad," he said flatly. "I didn't want to see anybody, unless it was you-and then just to say you sure twisted me up and then threw me away."

"Bill, I tried to make it clear-"

"I know," he cut in. "But I was too mad and hurt to get it at first. I went home. Know what I did? I sneaked a bottle from dad's cabinet and went up to my room."

"Oh, no, Bill!"

"I thought I'd get drunk. But somehow the stuff didn't go down and I didn't want it. I got to thinking, going over all you'd said and all we'd done. Made for a lot of mental exercise, believe me!"

She flushed, looked down at her hands and said nothing. He shifted about. "First I had to face the fact you were right-no matter how big I feel, I'm still just a school kid. Accepting that took some doing. Then I tried to see how it would be d we were really in love, got married and all that jazz. It just wouldn't come right, no matter how I tried to change the picture." His eyes came up and boldly held hers. His voice grew a little strained. "I might be ready for a girl-or a woman-but I'm not nearly ready to get a job, start a home or anything like that." He shrugged. "That's how I thought last night-almost to dawn. I talked to dad at breakfast this morning."

Her eyes flew wide in sudden alarm. "Your father!"

"Sure-about how I've decided to go on to college next fall, after I graduate here. Told him I had to make my own life in my own way and it looked like science to me, not his business." Bill stood up and smiled triumphantly. "It took some doing, but dad finally saw the point. And, April, I gave you all the credit for beginning to make something out of me."

Her eyes misted. "Thank you, Bill. I won't forget that. Something good came of us, didn't it?"

"That's for sure. And you taught me what to look for in a woman." He smiled. "By the way, I've made the scene again with my girl."

"Clair?"

"Not that one. Clair thinks a guy should give up everything for her, school and all. Anything, just so she gets married as soon as possible. No, I picked up with Joyce James. She's something like you, willing to wait if I go to college. Willing to help, too, if I need it. Like I said, you taught me what to look for-what really counts."

He turned and left the room. April sighed, the soft sound expressing content for Bill and uncertainty for herself.

The following Friday was the last day of the term, a day of short classes, of final grades. When she came to Bill's at the chemistry class, she looked at his other marks and added her A-plus. She looked at Bill, pleased. He smiled and gave a slight nod.

When he filed by to pick up his card, she said, "Scholarship marks, Bill. Too bad it didn't happen before. But keep this up and you'll win a prize your first year in college."

"I'll try."

The day ended a little before one in the afternoon. Her official term reports filed, April found herself at loose ends. She did not want to go home. Her feeling of triumph about Bill made her restless. Besides, she suddenly feared the empty hours alone in the house with Peg.

She drove to the business section of town, had lunch, and then window-shopped, killing time. She saw a purse in a display at Gray's and decided to buy it. When she stepped into the store, she almost bumped into Judson Gray hurrying out.

April spoke and smiled her apology. She sensed a faint withdrawal in his eyes.

"Well, a surprise," he said at last.

"Very much."

"This is a lucky meeting. I've been thinking about you, Miss Williams."

"Official thoughts, no doubt, as formal as you sound."

His eyes sharpened. "I thought you'd want things on that basis."

She made a face. "What have you been thinking?"

"First, that you've proved me all wrong about Bill Collins and his gang." She smiled acknowledgement and he hurried on. "I've seen the change. Those kids-especially Bid-needed no more than adult encouragement and a promise of a future for themselves here in town. I'm trying to build one for them."

"I'm glad to know that."

He smiled briefly. "I'm going to a board meeting now. If they'll put through a retraining program for workers, the town will be on its feet again. The factory owners will retool to make products we can sell through our stores here and throughout the state. But we need to train people to run the new machines. Final vote comes up today. I think we'll swing it this time."

"Jud-that's marvelous. I wish I'd known."

"I never had a chance to tell you," he answered dryly. "I had hoped to see you the other night when I came to the house."

"You came to the house?"

"Yes, didn't Peg tell you? She said you were spending the night with a-a girl friend somewhere, so I missed you."

"But I haven't a girl friend," April said blankly. "I was up in my room that night. Peg didn't say you were coming.

He stared at her, recovered and erased a strange, angry expression that had flitted across his face. "I see. Well, anyway, here you are. I'd also like to know if you intend to look for another school at the end of this year."

"I don't know. I've thought about it."

"Would you stay if we can raise salaries?"

She laughed. "It would be a strong temptation. But is there a chance?"

"Let's say a bare chance. Depends on today's town board meeting." He glanced at his watch. "I have to rush."

"Good luck-with everything."

His eyes bored at her. "Thanks. April, I've tried to ask you to forgive me for-that night."

She impulsively placed her hand on his arm. "I understand-now. I've been pretty awful since then. Can you forgive me for that?"

"You know I will." He caught himself, threw another harried glance at his watch. "Look, I can't be late. Let me phone you?"

"Of course."

"As soon as I can." He leaned toward her and she thought he would kiss her right here in the aisle. He caught himself. "Just as soon as I can."

He hurried out. April, caught up in a new excitement, followed him to the street more slowly, completely forgetting the purse in the window.

By the time she reached home her initial excitement about the encounter with Jud had lost its edge. Peg had apparently not yet returned from school and April went up to her room, changed into comfortable lounging pajamas. She went downstairs, suddenly at a loss at the prospect of facing an empty weekend. She doubted Jud would phone her right away.

She wandered out into the kitchen and started the electric percolator. She sat down in the breakfast nook while the pot burbled noisily.

She heard Peg enter and go directly upstairs. April heard faint sounds from above, then, as she poured coffee, steps descending the stairs. She had just returned to the table when the kitchen door opened and Peg walked in.

"Did I hear coffee brewing?"

"Just finished."

Peg walked to the stove, filled a cup and came to the nook. She sat down, sighed.

"I thought I'd never get away. Remind me to keep my records up to date so I don't have all the work to do on the last day."

April smiled briefly. Peg looked sharply at her. "I thought you'd be all dressed and packed by now."

April, in amazement, wondered if Peg had somehow read her thoughts about leaving. Peg said, "Wasn't this the big deal with Bill Collins?"

"Oh, that. I'm not going with him."

Peg carefully kept her eyes on the coffee she stirred. "Oh, I see. Date deferred-or off completely?"

"Permanently off. We had a long talk and-well, we're just student and teacher from now on."

"That's smart, honey. I told you all along."

April smiled again. She arose to refill her cup and her leg inadvertently brushed Peg's arm. Peg's eyes flamed but she turned away. April walked to the counter and percolator. Peg's look bothered her. There was so much she wanted to say, had to say, but she didn't know where or how to start. Still seeking an opening, she returned to her seat.

Peg said, "I'm glad you're free of that Collins affair. You wasted yourself on a wild one."

"Not really." April told her of Bill's plans. She finished, "So it came to something."

"You deserve credit for that, anyhow. But it will leave you a bit lonely." April thought of Jud. "I hope not."

"So do I, honey." Peg stood up and quickly moved around the corner of the table. She took April's hands. "There's no reason to be lonely."

"Peg, I-"

"Honey, listen. I was right when I told you the real reason you're afraid of Jud and turned to Bill. I could see it all along. Maybe it's because I love you and that's made me perceptive. My kind is real love, honey, no matter what people say."

She took April in her arms and her robe parted. Her lips smothered April's protests. She seemed to lose all control of herself. She made muffled little sounds as her tongue tried to part April's lips.

April worked her arm and elbow between herself and Peg. She used it as a lever, her muscles bunching in a spasmodic rejection that threw Peg back and down on the settee. For a moment the two women remained frozen, April staring down in renewed horror at the sprawled form beside her. Peg's robe gaped open. One breast free of the gown, the other half exposed. The robe and gown had slipped well up on her legs, exposing rounded thighs to the hips. April choked down a scream. She lunged desperately to her feet, raced toward the door.

"Honey," Peg called. "Please-"

April fled into the hallway. Just then the phone clamored. April snatched it up.

Judson's voice came clear and triumphant. "April? Guess what?"

"Jud-come and get me. Right away! Hurry."

She slammed down the instrument and realized Peg stood in the kitchen doorway. April shrank back but Peg did not move. Her clothing was rearranged and her face held a stricken, defeated expression.

"I-don't be afraid of me, April. I tried, very hard, and I lost."

"I'm leaving-tonight."

Peg shrugged. Her eyes misted. She turned back into the kitchen and April fled up the stairs, hand savagely rubbing her lips to erase the feel of Peg's kisses. She slammed the bedroom door, jerked at the pajama zipper and hurried to dress. She had a bag packed by the time Jud swung into the drive. She raced down the stairs and met him at the door.

"I have to get out of this house, Jud."

He stared at her and then, without a word, took the suitcase and led her to the car. As they backed into the street, cut and turned, April saw Peg standing at the big window, curtain pulled back. Even at the distance, her face and figure looked lost and tragic.

Jud asked where she wanted to go and April realized she didn't know. He looked at her strained face and quietly suggested a motel near the edge of town untd she could look around for more permanent quarters. April, unable to still her churning emotions enough to cope with the problem, nodded and Jud headed toward the expressway.

An hour later, he placed her bag on a table in a pleasantly furnished motel. He dropped the door key beside it and looked with sharp understanding at her. "I'd see you tomorrow."

"Don't go," she said impulsively.

He smiled. "I don't want to, but you're upset."

"I need company, Jud."

He sat down in a chair near the door. "Can you ted me about it?"

She hesitated and saw his understanding expression, the softness of his eyes as they studied her. She sensed some subtle communication between them. She told him in a rush of words about Peg and her advances.

Jud listened and when she had finished said, 'Teg told me you liked women, that you were with one the night I dated her, hoping to see you. I can understand that now. You're well out of it. I hope you'll let me find another place for you."

"You're sweet but-"

"Now, no thought of leaving Centerville. I won't have it." He smiled. "April, the board voted the retraining program through a bond issue. While they were at it, they voted a raise for our teachers-including you. What's more, Collins praised your work so much, they'll probably raise you again next year."

"That's wonderful, Jud. But I've made such a mess of things here-"

"Nonsense."

"But I have, Jud. It's not only Peg, it's-Bill Collins."

He was startled but somehow she felt he would understand. And that became very important. The bond between them had grown stronger and she wanted it to last. But, she knew, it could not last if she kept a secret, an ugly one that might come out some day. She painfully told the story of Bill Collins and herself, faltering, regaining courage, faltering again.

He listened, sitting very quietly. She finished and knew he scorned her. It showed in his set face, the way his hands tightly clasped one another. His eyes traveled slowly over her and she could only wait in a sort of forlorn hope.

He finally spoke, slowly, groping. "It was wrong, April, of course. But I don't know what I might have done with a girl student if I'd been a teacher in like circumstances. I can blame myself in a way. I was wrong about the kids and you set out to prove it. You've been lonely and Bill's young-but handsome and quite a man in his way."

He lowered his head and frowned at the floor, hands still tight. He looked up and smiled. "It's over and what does it matter? I need you."

"You need me?"

"Of course I do! There's the retraining program. You're a teacher. I need your advice. I had the wrong slant on the teenagers and I'll need you to keep me in line in the future. Besides, you've gained control of them, through Bid. If you leave now, that will be for nothing."

He stood up. "Yes, I need you, April. I've been lonely myself. So are you. Do you think two of a kind might get together?"

She could only stare. He came to her and gently lifted her to her feet. He kissed her, holding her lightly but close. She suddenly felt that, without warning, she had passed from storm to safety. Her arms came slowly up around him and she wanted nothing more than to keep his lips right where they were-on hers.

He broke the kiss, smiled down into her eyes. "There's a lounge and restaurant up front. Maybe dinner, and a cocktail, a chance to relax would help you make up your mind."

She still had her arms about his neck. She said softly, "No, it's not needed. I know now."

His brow rose as he studied her. He grinned. "Maybe later, then. Right now-"

He enfolded her again and, as they stood close, his arms tightened.