on Peggy’s golden hair as she pulled it back into a ponytail. “Beth,
that medicine Mike gave me—was there something in it to put me to
sleep?”
“That’s right. A compound to settle your stomach, too. But I think it
was the sleep that did you the most good.” The nurse pursed her lips.
“You’ve been losing sleep lately, if I know the signs. Probably that’s
why something was able to make you feel sick yesterday.”
How shrewd of her, Peggy thought. She’s a professional nurse, all right.
Beth lit a couple of cigarettes, handed one to Peggy. “Do you like it
here? Think you’ll be back next season?”
Peggy shrugged. “Too early to tell. It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
_On whether or not I find out who’s haunting me_, she thought. _On what
comes of it._ Aloud she said, “A lot of things, really.”
Beth studied the girl. “Peggy,” she said finally, “is something wrong?
What’s troubling you?”
_What’s wrong?_ The query echoed within Peggy. She wanted to shout: _You
know what’s wrong as well as I do. Better than I do, in fact. You were
in on the thing. I only caught snatches. What’s wrong? Beth—you tell
me._ Instead, she said, “Of course nothing is wrong.”
Peggy slipped into her sweater. She looked down at the nurse, and forced
a smile. “Maybe it’s just the pressure of the first few days,” Beth
said.
“That’s probably it,” Peggy agreed, heading for the door. _That and the
fact that last night I was seduced by a woman—and liked it._
* * * * *
The door of the Pillbox slammed shut behind Peggy. She sauntered along
the path that led from the small, square building to the lodge.
At a bend in the well-worn trail, she halted. She had a choice of going
straight ahead to the lodge or by-passing it and heading for the cabin
area. Or she could neglect both paths and cut across the wooded
hillside.
She took counsel with herself a moment, then turned off the path. Dry
leaves crackled underfoot, pine branches rustled, as Peggy started up
the sylvan slope. Small brown animals skittered out of sight: chipmunks,
rabbits. The lazy air smelled of balsam and wood smoke.
Overhead a jay called to its mate. A squirrel peeked from the other side
of a vine-hung stump. And the sun, on the rise, forced its rays between
the tall, full branches, throwing slivers of gold on the dark earth.
Peggy walked along slowly, her mind busy. Reviewing the night, she was
filled with apprehension. Was it really possible that the whole episode
could have been planned?
Her calculations made it plausible. She had gone into town with Mike
while the camp was under Mike’s sister’s direction. Then, at Mike’s
urgings, Peggy had indulged in an over-rich delicacy. Finally she had
been given a dose of medicine supposedly prescribed by Pam—and which had
put Peggy to sleep almost immediately, rendering her helpless.
It was that simple, Peggy thought. Then she reasoned that it was too
simple. Somewhere a piece was missing, an integral part of the puzzle.
Even so, she told herself, that was not the worst of her problems. Her
big difficulty was....
“Hello, there,” a deep voice boomed.
Peggy froze.
Sitting on a log less than three yards away was a tall, broad-shouldered
youth, his dark eyes brilliantly alive.
Peggy retreated a couple of steps, poised for flight.
“Before you panic,” he said, rising, “I’m Kirby Davis. Sorry to startle
you. I live over yonder,” he explained with a sweeping gesture in some
unclear direction. “You must be one of the camp counselors.”
Peggy said that she was. The thought crossed her mind that this Kirby
Davis was trespassing on camp property, but she decided against saying
anything. She wanted only to be on her way.
“Are you heading for the lodge?” the big lad asked.
Peggy shook her head. “The cabins,” she replied.
“Oh. I thought I’d join you.” He indicated a large wooden crate. “I have
to deliver this to the kitchen.”
“What is it?”
“Apple butter. Old-fashioned, home-made apple butter,” he emphasized.
“Apple butter! From where? We drove in supplies yesterday, and—”
“My aunt makes it,” he said. “Aunt Lelia used to do cooking out here at
one time,” he continued. “She retired a couple years ago, but she still
supplies most of the preserves. Home-made jams and jellies, things like
that.”
“And you’re the delivery boy?”
“That’s right.” A frown crossed his sun-tanned forehead. “Say—what are
you doing out here? Isn’t everyone at breakfast?”
Peggy explained she had just left the clinic.
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
Peggy said nothing, wishing she could tell him—anyone—just how serious.
Then she suppressed a semihysterical giggle. What a thing to tell a
stranger!
Aware of her uncommunicativeness, Kirby lifted the crate to his shoulder
and said, “Better be on my way. Hope I see you again some time.”
“Me, too,” Peggy said meaninglessly, and continued on her way, her
thoughts returning to the events of the night.
She felt sick and afraid. Whether or not the seduction had been planned
was of little consequence. Whether or not the seducer had been Mike
seemed beside the point. The fact was that no matter how it had happened
or who had been responsible, Peggy had enjoyed the night.
Then was she one of—of those? Full of horror, she stumbled blindly along
among the trees. She tried to quiet her fears by arguing that she had
not been fully awake, that perhaps, in fact, she had dreamed the whole
episode.
When at last she reached her cabin, she felt calmer, if hot more
convinced. She decided to forget the night’s events until she could
consider them with some objectivity. Right now, she told herself, it was
high time to concentrate on what she was being paid for—being a
counselor.
One more question had developed, though. That fellow in the woods—what
was his name? Kirby? Why had he chosen that peculiar route by which to
deliver his heavy load of apple butter? Why hadn’t he driven from the
highway right up to the kitchen, the way the delivery truckmen did? Even
if he had to walk for some reason, why had he chosen to come by forest
path rather than by road?
* * * * *
Peggy showered, changed, and hiked down to the lodge.
The first person she spotted in the counselors’ lounge was Mike. Memory
came flooding back. Pretending not to see the redhead, Peggy quickly
averted her eyes. Her heartbeat quickened. Her palms were sweating.
Sooner or later, she knew, she would have to face Mike but—Peggy gripped
the knob of the still-open door—what would she say? How should she act?
Peggy could feel nervous heat suffusing her body, reddening her face.
She turned to leave.
“Hey, Peg!”
Her pulse skipped; her breath stopped. She glanced over her shoulder at
Mike, who signaled with a toss of her red head. Behind her, in the usual
starched white outfit, Beth was sitting on the arm of a chair.
Gingerly Peggy picked her way through the crowded room, sure all eyes
were on her, certain that everyone knew, that everyone could see a
change in her.
“Feeling better, hey, kid?”
“Oh, I’m full of vinegar this morning.”
Mike laughed. “Don’t forget the p—”
“Never mind,” interrupted Beth. “Hello, Peg.”
“Say,” remarked Mike, “a friend of yours called. Told me his name was
Ted.”
Peggy frowned. “When?”
“Yesterday. After I had put you to bed. I told him you were in the
infirmary, and he was quite concerned.”
“He was?” Peggy thought she caught a flicker of a smile crossing Beth’s
face.
“He asked a thousand questions,” Mike went on, “and wanted to know if I
was positive there wasn’t anything he could do. But I finally convinced
him you were in the best of hands.”
Peggy slid a hard-backed chair from under the conference table, turned
it to face Mike and Beth.
_He was quite concerned...._
Mike pulled a pack of cigarettes from her shirt pocket, offered it to
Peggy and the nurse. Both declined.
“Yes, sir,” Mike said, lighting up. “I think that boy’s in love.”
Peggy felt her face grow red a second time. She wished she were not so
tongue-tied this morning. She sat silently watching the other counselors
as one by one they stubbed out after-breakfast cigarettes and left the
room.
_Yes, sir, I think that boy’s in love._ Could that be, Peggy asked
herself. Was Ted actually in love with her? She very much doubted it.
Yet....
Mike jabbed Beth with a husky elbow. “Look at that face. Two guesses on
what she’s thinking about,” Mike said.
Then the telephone jangled.
Mike jumped up. “I’ll get it,” she announced to the room, and pushed
toward the clanging pay phone on the wall.
Mike mumbled a few words into the mouthpiece, clapped her hand over it
and turned her head. “Hey, speak of the devil,” she called to Peggy.
“That’s your Ted. He’s down at Jake’s Garage, at the junction. I told
him you were better, and now he wants to know if he can come visit you.”
She held out the receiver to Peggy. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
“What will I tell him?” Peggy said under her breath. “I’ve been trying
to avoid him.”
“But he came all this way. Tell him you’ll see him.”
“But—” She glanced at Beth.
“Do you want to see him?” the nurse asked.
Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose so.” Could it be possible,
after all? Did Ted truly love her? “Hell,” she said, suddenly smiling,
“sure I want to see him!”
“Then tell him to drive over.”
“What about swim duty? I mean, I didn’t do anything all day yesterday,
and—”
“Tell him to drive over—I’ll give you a medical excuse canceling swim
duty.” Beth raised an eyebrow. “And any other duties you have today.”
Peggy jumped from her seat. If she had not been in such a rush to get to
the phone, she might have hugged the nurse.
“Decisions, decisions, decisions,” Mike mumbled, handing the receiver to
Peggy.
* * * * *
Peggy ran down the gravel drive to the main gate. Her soul was singing.
Life was normal once more. Soon she would be with Ted, where she
belonged. Did anything else matter? He could take away the doubts and
fears, restore the security that seemed to have slipped from her life.
He could make her forget last night.
For Ted was a man. With him she could be a woman—a man’s woman.
As she neared the road, Peggy glimpsed the familiar Impala convertible
gleaming yellow in the sunlight. Her heart galloped. She flew across the
dirt road, around the car and into Ted’s waiting arms.
“Wow,” he said, after a long hard kiss. “If I had known this was the
reception I was going to get, I would have come here long ago instead of
writing letters that you never answered.”
Peggy smiled. “It’s so good to see you, Ted. I’ve really missed you,”
she lied. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy—”
His gray eyes devoured her. “Are you busy now?”
Peggy answered by lifting her face for another kiss.
At last Ted broke away. “Let’s save some until later,” he said
breathlessly, turning the ignition key. “Where to?”
Peggy shrugged. “Anywhere—as long as we’re together.”
Ted grinned, and gunned the motor.
As they moved down the road in the open convertible, Peggy rested her
head on Ted’s shoulder. The warm breeze caressed her bare shoulders,
reminding her of the smooth, gentle touch of last night’s lover. She
tried to consign the memory to the wind and concentrate on Ted. Why had
she been so impatient with him, she asked herself. Why had she tried to
cut herself off from him? It was distinctly a pleasure to have his
company now, she thought happily. More than that—it was a cure and
antidote.
“Want to do anything special?” he asked. “I passed an ice cream parlor
back in the village. This is your big chance.”
“No!” she said vehemently. “Let’s just ride. It’s been such a long
time....”
“It sure has,” Ted replied, putting his arm around her.
Peggy snuggled closer and listened as Ted chatted about summer
school—about classes, mutual friends, instructors. She told him about
camp life, mentioned the overnight hike she was preparing for, gave him
portraits of some of her cute campers.
Then they fell silent. The countryside rolled by swiftly as they rode on
without destination, turning from one gravel road into another, each
like the others yet none the same. For more than an hour they traveled
so, quietly and happily, taking in the nearness of each other, enjoying
the rugged vistas on both sides of their passage.
Then Ted pulled to the road shoulder, parking on the edge of a clearing
carved out of a pine grove. Peggy could hear the murmur of a
swift-running brook. On the other side of the road, a granite cliff fell
away to farmlands far below, affording a broad, bucolic view of
breathtaking sweep.
“How about a walk?” Ted asked.
They slid out of the car and started hand in hand across the grassy
clearing.
“Let’s look for the brook, Ted.”
“Sure.”
But when they were among the pines, Ted suddenly pulled her to him. “So
how’s my girl?”
Peggy swiveled her hazel eyes toward him. She could not answer, for
already Ted’s lips were on hers.
“I’m fine,” she said weakly, when they had parted.
“You’re great,” Ted contradicted. He looked powerful and capable,
standing there in his brown slacks, his red sport shirt open at the
throat and revealing tufts of dark hair.
He was breathing heavily, Peggy noticed. So she was not surprised when
abruptly he grabbed her, holding her so close that she could feel the
heat of his body through her white T-shirt.
“As you say, it’s been so long,” he whispered into her ear. “So damned
long, Peg.”
He kissed her, forcing her mouth open, and Peggy could feel his warmth
flowing into her. His hand slipped under the back of the flimsy shirt,
crawled up to the bra snaps. His palm caressed the skin there, moved
around and then descended to her stomach. The fingers roamed until the
breasts ached for his touch. When she could stand it no longer, she
blurted, “Please, Ted....”
He lowered her to the ankle-high carpeting of pine needles and yielding
grass. He unloosed the bra, freeing her bosom under the T-shirt. Then he
fondled first one breast and then the other.
“Oh, Peg,” he breathed. “My pretty Peg—”
They clung to each other on their soft green bed, fondling and feeling.
Then he pulled her out of the T-shirt, removed the loosened bra. Her
fullnesses were exposed, delicate mounds of creamy flesh, each with its
rosebud tip.
With a cry that was like a sob, he plunged his curly head between the
sweet, pink buds. Then he was all over her at once. His shaking hands
roved her long legs, her smooth shoulders, buried themselves in her
hair. His chest received the thrust of her hungering breasts. His hot
lips worked on her mouth. Peggy thought she would explode.
“Isn’t this better than fighting?” he queried hoarsely. “Every day,
since we quarreled, I’ve thought of you like this, honey. I was going
crazy—I needed you so much....”
Peggy felt herself spread-eagled, then; pinned suddenly by massive
weight, she could hardly draw a breath. A pine cone was biting into her
spine. Hard hands were convulsively clutching her hips, digging, hurting
her. Ted was muttering like a madman, grimacing, looking as if he were
about to foam at the mouth.
Something snapped inside of Peggy.
The warmth was gone. Desire melted and chilled. She lay still as Ted
greedily sucked kisses from her. She felt nothing, certainly not
passion. Yet Ted seemed not to notice. He went right on while her mind
drifted to the previous night.
She remembered those tender hands, so unlike Ted’s rough ones. She
remembered the delicately cool lips, the creamy flesh against her. She
would have remembered more, but a knife pierced her, plunged to the core
of her. “Ted!” she shrilled, as all sensation was blotted out save
pain—searing, engulfing pain.
And then it was over. Ted sagged upon her, exhausted, his head resting
on her still aching breasts. After his breath had slowed to normal pace,
Peggy stirred under him.
“Are you finished?” she asked. When he made no answer, she disentangled
herself and sat up.
She dressed quickly and combed her hair. Then she spoke again.
“Take me back to the camp.”
FIVE
Ted left her at the gate.
“Why are you angry, Peg?”
She shook her head. “I’m not.” Her voice was barely audible.
Peggy’s change in mood had thoroughly flustered Ted. “If I did anything
wrong, I’m sorry, but—” He pulled her to him. “God, Peggy, it’s just
that—”
She broke away. “I said I wasn’t angry. But I have things to do. After
all, I’m just hired help around here.” She stepped to the road. “See
you, Ted. Thanks for the ride.”
He slid out of the car, reached for her arm, spun her around to face
him.
“What the hell do you mean, thanks for the ride?”
“What the hell do you think I mean?” She pulled away from him and ran
through the gate into the security of the camp.
“Peggy!”
She started up the dirt driveway. Her shoulders drooped, her head hung;
her eyes, though, were dry. Halfway up the hill, she heard Ted start the
car and speed away.
Mike’s face registered acute shock, some minutes later, when Peggy
walked into the tennis shack dressed for action. The girls had already
divided up for doubles and were taking their places on the courts.
Mike sidled over to Peggy, who was choosing a racket.
“What are you doing back so soon? Beth told you we’d take care of
everything.”
“I know,” Peggy answered tonelessly. “Ted had studying to do.”
“My God! That’s no excuse. What’s so important that he has to study up
on?”
“His manners,” responded Peggy, grim-lipped.
Mike gaped.
“They need a player on Court Three,” she said, turning away.
Walking listlessly to the court Mike had indicated, Peggy noticed the
little blonde, Ruth Harris, giving stroke instruction to some
intermediates on Court One. Ruth waved cheerfully. Peggy tried to
concentrate on knocking the ball around with three camp seniors, all in
their teens. They were fresh and fetching, all bare legs, gawky arms and
flying tresses as they skedaddled over the clay in frantic pursuit of
the ball. One girl in particular was as cute as a kitten in a brief
white outfit fit for a tournament at Wimbledon but wholly out of place
in a camp. The other girls laughed and teased her as she proudly romped
around, her round rump bobbing saucily under the thigh-high white skirt.
Peggy was in no mood to appreciate the charms of her young charges. She
gave them some pointers on service, then they began a doubles set. The
ball flew back and forth. At first Peggy and her partner were ahead,
then their opponents took the lead. It did not matter to Peggy. The ball
came, Peggy hit. The ball came, Peggy missed.
Then, as she watched, what had been just a small felt ball on the other
side of the net figuratively grew and grew, sprouting hair and eyes
until it looked like Ted’s face coming down at her, closer and closer.
Peggy gripped the racket. Her arm went back, swung forward, as she
smashed at the ball with all her might—and missed. The pain that shot
through her shoulder made her gasp.
The game stopped momentarily, the girls inquiring if she were all right.
Flexing the shoulder, she assured them that she was.
She glanced at her watch. “Let’s go, Bernice,” she called to her
partner. “We don’t have much time to win this set.”
She tried to ignore the stiffening muscle as she worked at evening the
score. By the time Mike blew the whistle signaling the end of the
session, the set stood at five-all.
After the girls had left the courts, Peggy and Mike locked up the
equipment. They started toward the cabin area together. As they walked,
Peggy moved her shoulder gingerly, at the same time massaging it with
the fingers of her opposite hand.
“My God!” Mike said. “Are you accident-prone or something? First it was
your stomach. Now it’s your shoulder.”
“I pulled a muscle, I guess.”
“A Charlie-horse. Everybody gets ’em early in the season, before they
get in shape.”
Peggy shook her head. “I thought Charlie only got you in the legs.”
“Okay, so it’s a sprain. In the water, it’s a cramp. Same thing. Come up
to the cabin,” Mike invited. “I’m great at rubbing out the kinks. I want
to talk to you anyway,” she added.
Apprehension clamped Peggy. During the ride back to camp with Ted, she
had not been able to help comparing his style of love-making with that
of her unidentified nocturnal visitor. Even in her doped state, Peggy
had enjoyed the mysterious lover much more, infinitely more. Did it
mean, she had wondered, that there was something wrong with her? She had
pictured Mike then, forgetting Ted and the car and the rolling
countryside and golden fields. Instead she had envisioned Mike’s soft,
white hands, the penetrating gray eyes, the broad shoulders and smiling
lips. She had heard Mike’s husky voice. At that moment, Peggy had been
pretty much convinced that she had been seduced by Mike and no other.
What would it be like to exchange kisses and caresses with the
red-haired girl when she, Peggy, was not sleeping but wide awake?
Peggy had shuddered at that last thought. And yet there remained the
fact that acute pleasure had been hers the previous night.
By the time Ted had left her at the gate, Peggy had made up her mind. If
she had lesbian leanings, horrible as they were, better that she should
know it. She would find out for herself if perhaps she were abnormal, if
she craved another woman’s love rather than a man’s.
But now that she was going to be alone with Mike, she was full of fears.
Could she go through with it?
And then a peculiar metamorphosis took place as the two youthful
counselors trudged up the hill. By some alchemy possibly born of the
unsatisfied, unfulfilled state in which Ted had left her, Peggy’s
apprehensive feelings changed to those of excitement, of a kind of
delicate, tentative lust.
She laughed at herself. Ever since the night she had overheard the
conversation in the bathhouse, she had been avoiding Mike. She had
feared to get too close to the girl this morning. Yet now suddenly Peggy
was full of eagerness. She wanted to get it over with. She wanted to
know.
The two girls ambled on, Peggy deep in her own thoughts. Suddenly she
lifted her head. They had reached the staff cabin.
Inside, Peggy stretched out on someone’s bed while Mike hurriedly
changed into a shapeless black tanksuit. She flung her discarded clothes
in a heap on her bed.
“Got to get to the waterfront in a few minutes,” she said, pulling and
poking the suit into position on her solid curves. “You know, you never
did explain that grudge you have against men—the one that made you sign
up here rather than at a co-ed camp. Has it got something to do with
what’s-his-face?”
“Yes. It has everything to do with Ted.” Peggy rolled over on her
stomach, rested her head on crossed arms. “I thought I was in love,” she
said, unexpectedly more than willing to confide in Mike. “I was
convinced he felt the same. I had visions of orange blossoms and wedding
bells and living happily ever after. We did everything together—studied,
went to dances and football games, took in movies and lectures. He even
drove me home to meet his folks, one weekend. They liked me, I think.”
Mike sat down on the edge of the cot, a bottle of suntan lotion in her
hand. She applied the creamy liquid to her dangerously pink arms and
legs. Peggy noted how fair Mike was, how freckled. A pleasant, disarming
effect, thought Peggy. Then her thoughts flashed back to Ted.
“Yep,” she sighed. “Ted and I. Life was a bed of roses—until I gave him
what he wanted. After that, life was a bed. Cars, motels, inside or
outside—it didn’t matter. Any old place would do. And I got tired of
it.” She paused. “That’s all, Mike. I got tired of it. The end.”
Mike’s hands, smooth with lotion, began to massage Peggy’s shoulders.
“And today—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” Peggy said.
“Did you think he would be any different? Is that it?”
“I had hoped he would.”
For a while Mike stroked and rubbed without speaking. Then, “You mean
because of one oversexed male you’re calling it quits?” Her hands moved
lower on Peggy’s back.
Ignoring Mike’s question, Peggy murmured, “That feels good. Oh, good—”
Mike stroked, pinched, her strong fingers industrious and clever. “You
never can tell,” she said. “He sounded like such a hell of a nice guy
over the phone. Really interested in you, too. Maybe—”
“Please—I don’t want to talk about him, Mike.”
“Sure, Peg. How’s the shoulder feel now?”
Peggy shrugged a couple times, moved her arm. “Better. Really better. A
little stiff, but I’ll live.”