Bud said goodnight, he had to work the next morning, so Bill offered to drive Alice home. She tried to decline but she’d had enough Singapore Slings to make her tongue-tied and light-headed, and so she smiled at Isabelle, who was giving her a cool, appraising look, and said, “Sure. Why not?” She raised her glass in a cocky salute.
Later, when the smoke and the noise and the smell of tightly-packed, perspiring bodies became too much for her, she went to the ladies room and then stumbled out into the cool evening. She had stopped drinking some time before and the brisk night air sobered her immediately. In the distance, the river glistened in the moonlight. She followed a graveled path down to the water’s edge, past a dimly-lit bricked patio to a pair of wooden chairs facing the water. She sat for a long time watching the dark, swiftly moving river and listening to
Dixie Vagabond
and the rhythmic thumping of the dancers’ feet. From time to time the door would bang open and she would hear a woman’s soft laughter, or a man’s gruff voice, and then the sound of their feet on the graveled drive. Once she heard Bill Whittington calling for her. She pulled her feet up and slumped down in her chair, and he went around to the parking lot, calling her name. A moment later Isabelle came out looking for him and Alice could hear their low, angry voices in the drive. Bill said, “Oh, calm down, will you? I promised to see her home, that’s all.” They went back inside, the door banging loudly behind them. Alice sighed and put her feet down, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.
“Who are you hiding from?”
The voice, deep, overtly masculine, had come from behind her. Startled, she raised her head and looked around. She could see a figure in a hat sitting at a nearby picnic table, his cigarette glowing feebly.
“I’m not hiding from anyone.”
He made a short, dismissive sound.
She was not frightened, although perhaps she should have been. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough to know you’re hiding from someone.”
“I told you, I’m not.” She stood abruptly. He rose, too, stubbing his cigarette under his toe, and something in his mannerism, in his spare yet sturdy build, seemed familiar to her.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Should I?” She took a step up the graveled walk, but stopped. She would have to walk past him to get back to the juke joint and she was suddenly hesitant to do that. What had she been thinking, coming out here alone? It was dangerous. Dangerous and foolish.
He took his hat off and stepped forward into the light slanting across the lawn, and she recognized Brendan Burke.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
She felt a quiver of anger followed quickly by a wash of relief. “No? Then why are you sitting in the dark? You should have announced yourself.”
“If I had announced myself, I would have spoiled the vision of you in the moonlight.” His teeth glimmered in the dim light. “You would have left, like you’re doing now.”
She walked slowly up the path. She could see him clearly in the wash of light from the patio. He looked different than he had that night at the garage, standing there in a dark suit with his hair combed off his face, his pale, straight part shining in the moonlight.
He fell into step beside her. “I’m fairly harmless,” he said.
“That’s not what I hear.”
“You’ve been talking to the wrong people.”
She stopped and looked at him, holding his gaze. “My sister is only sixteen years old,” she said.
His expression changed then, became closed and wary. He raised one hand and indicated an empty table and two chairs on the patio. “I’d like to talk to you about her.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say about Laura, about himself and Laura. As if realizing this, he said in a coldly polite manner, “Please. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
He
Later, when the smoke and the noise and the smell of tightly-packed, perspiring bodies became too much for her, she went to the ladies room and then stumbled out into the cool evening. She had stopped drinking some time before and the brisk night air sobered her immediately. In the distance, the river glistened in the moonlight. She followed a graveled path down to the water’s edge, past a dimly-lit bricked patio to a pair of wooden chairs facing the water. She sat for a long time watching the dark, swiftly moving river and listening to
Dixie Vagabond
and the rhythmic thumping of the dancers’ feet. From time to time the door would bang open and she would hear a woman’s soft laughter, or a man’s gruff voice, and then the sound of their feet on the graveled drive. Once she heard Bill Whittington calling for her. She pulled her feet up and slumped down in her chair, and he went around to the parking lot, calling her name. A moment later Isabelle came out looking for him and Alice could hear their low, angry voices in the drive. Bill said, “Oh, calm down, will you? I promised to see her home, that’s all.” They went back inside, the door banging loudly behind them. Alice sighed and put her feet down, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.
“Who are you hiding from?”
The voice, deep, overtly masculine, had come from behind her. Startled, she raised her head and looked around. She could see a figure in a hat sitting at a nearby picnic table, his cigarette glowing feebly.
“I’m not hiding from anyone.”
He made a short, dismissive sound.
She was not frightened, although perhaps she should have been. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough to know you’re hiding from someone.”
“I told you, I’m not.” She stood abruptly. He rose, too, stubbing his cigarette under his toe, and something in his mannerism, in his spare yet sturdy build, seemed familiar to her.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Should I?” She took a step up the graveled walk, but stopped. She would have to walk past him to get back to the juke joint and she was suddenly hesitant to do that. What had she been thinking, coming out here alone? It was dangerous. Dangerous and foolish.
He took his hat off and stepped forward into the light slanting across the lawn, and she recognized Brendan Burke.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
She felt a quiver of anger followed quickly by a wash of relief. “No? Then why are you sitting in the dark? You should have announced yourself.”
“If I had announced myself, I would have spoiled the vision of you in the moonlight.” His teeth glimmered in the dim light. “You would have left, like you’re doing now.”
She walked slowly up the path. She could see him clearly in the wash of light from the patio. He looked different than he had that night at the garage, standing there in a dark suit with his hair combed off his face, his pale, straight part shining in the moonlight.
He fell into step beside her. “I’m fairly harmless,” he said.
“That’s not what I hear.”
“You’ve been talking to the wrong people.”
She stopped and looked at him, holding his gaze. “My sister is only sixteen years old,” she said.
His expression changed then, became closed and wary. He raised one hand and indicated an empty table and two chairs on the patio. “I’d like to talk to you about her.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say about Laura, about himself and Laura. As if realizing this, he said in a coldly polite manner, “Please. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
He
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