a camp; very plush. On the other hand, I’ve lived in tents and had to
pump my own water—it was like one long overnight hike. This is between
the two extremes. Also,” she continued, “they were both co-ed.” Peggy
was thoughtful a moment. “You know, it made a difference to the
girls—the counselors, I mean. There they were always primping, changing
clothes. They always wore lipstick. No one would think of going in the
water without a bathing cap. They weren’t neater, or anything—but more
conscientious about appearance than they are here. Except, of course,
some of them. Girls—well, girls like Mike, who don’t really care about
guys.”
“Hey! What makes you think Mike doesn’t?”
_Beth, I know Mike is a lesbian. I know you are, too._ Why not say it,
Peggy thought. Just blurt it out. No—no—probably Beth would die of
shame....
Peggy shrugged. “Mike’s not the type. I knew some girls like her in
school. They—” She stopped, confused and suddenly embarrassed. How much
could she say to Beth? Just how much did Beth already know? Apart from
being shamed, would she be angry or hurt if Peggy mentioned what she had
overheard at the bathhouse—and what had happened since?
The girl wondered, wavered, trying to decide whether to take the nurse
into her confidence or remain silent.
Then came the sound of the screen door banging. A meek voice queried,
“Miss Beth—are you here?” Peggy sighed, relieved of the necessity to
make a choice. The moment for unburdening herself was past.
“Excuse me, Peggy,” the nurse said, rising. She walked out to the
clinic, Peggy following out of curiosity. “Well, look who’s here,” Beth
said, greeting a pair of youngsters at the doorway. One towheaded girl,
rather chubby and about eleven years old, hung back, tears in her eyes.
The other, of the same age but with pipestem legs and long brown hair,
spoke up shyly.
“Carol’s sick, Miss Beth.”
“And you brought her here? That’s nice of you, Doris. Come inside.
Carol, can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I—I don’t feel well. I really don’t,” the towheaded one said timidly.
Beth took them into the clinic. In a moment Carol was perched nervously
on a tall metal stool, feet dangling, thermometer protruding from her
mouth, wide eyes focused on her friend standing next to her.
“Is she okay, Miss Beth?”
“Oh—” Beth seemed to consider the question seriously. “I think probably
she’ll live.”
This evoked a grin from the patient, a giggle from her friend.
Beth checked the thermometer, laid her hand on the girl’s cheek and
forehead. Finally she spoke: “I think you’d better run along, Doris. I
want to keep Carol a few minutes more, and you’ll lose all your free
time if you stay here.”
Doris hesitated. “Well—if she’s not very sick—”
Peggy noticed a faint smile cross Beth’s face as she dropped her arm
around the girl’s shoulders and escorted her to the door.
“No,” Beth said, “she isn’t very sick at all—that’s why you don’t have
to stay. See?”
The screen door closed behind Doris. Beth approached the other girl.
“Get off the stool and sit there,” Beth said, indicating a more
comfortable chair. “Now tell me,” she said when Carol was seated, “where
do you feel bad?”
Carol put her hand to her forehead, holding it for a minute. Then she
said, her blue eyes wide, “All over. My head aches and my belly—gee, it
feels funny.” She grimaced, as though in great pain. “Will I have to go
home, Miss Beth?”
“Do you want to?”
“Well....” She seemed to ponder solemnly. “Oh, Miss Beth, I do feel
awful—”
And unexpectedly the girl burst into tears.
Peggy saw the troubled, pitying expression that fleeted over Beth’s
face. She ran to the chair, slipped into it with Carol raised to a
sitting position on the nurse’s lap. She pressed Carol to her bosom,
hugged and kissed her. “There, child,” Beth crooned, rocking back and
forth. “You don’t have to cry. You’ll be all right.”
She stroked Carol’s dangling legs, patted her, soothed her just as Peggy
had seen Susie soothed. After a time, Carol stopped sobbing and began to
hug and kiss Beth.
The kids all love her, Peggy thought. I guess that’s because she loves
them. She’s so warm—so affectionate—
Beth now pushed Carol to her feet, and herself stood up, her face a bit
flushed. She stepped over to the medicine chest. “I think if you take
these pills, Carol, you’ll be better by morning.”
Beth handed her two pills and a glass of water. She waited a minute
after the girl swallowed the medicine, and said, “I bet you feel better
already, don’t you?”
“Kinda.”
Beth tried to suppress a smile. “You run along now. If you still feel
sick after lunch tomorrow, let me know. But,” she added, “I hope you’re
okay. Tomorrow night is the beach party, you know.”
“That’s right! I almost forgot.”
“So you try to feel better.”
“I will,” Carol said vehemently. “May I go now?”
“Sure.” Beth walked with her to the door, then returned to her own room,
still smiling, Peggy at her side.
“What was that all about?” asked Peggy.
“Homesickness. There’s an epidemic going around.”
Peggy laughed, and nodded. “Oh, I should have known. I’ve seen that
dread disease in action before.”
“It’s always the same—one girl gets homesick,” the nurse said, “and
receives some extra attention, then suddenly a throng of girls have all
kinds of symptoms. It’s amazing.”
“Beth, if you knew Carol wasn’t really sick, why did you bother with
her?”
“Why not? Health is my job—including mental health, the way I see it. If
two colored placebos and five minutes of my time can boost a kid’s
morale, it’s worth the effort.”
Peggy wished that two pills—no particular color—could help her.
Or if not pills, then those five minutes of Beth’s time.
Why not? Why couldn’t she turn to Beth? The nurse was older, wiser. A
knowing and sympathetic woman. Someone to lean on, yes—to cling to, as
Peggy had hoped to be able to cling to Ted. No doubt she could dispel
Peggy’s dread of the future.
“Does your job include keeping the counselors happy as well as the
kids?”
“You bet!” Beth’s smile grew broader. “Why? Are you homesick, too?”
“It’s not that simple, believe me,” Peggy said. She was remembering,
once again, how the nurse had tried to defend her, protect her from
harm, during that horrible nocturnal argument in the bathhouse. Yes,
Beth was her friend. Even at the risk of acute embarrassment for Beth,
of letting her know that her lesbianism was no secret, should not Peggy
speak up? How else learn who the other girl in the bathhouse had
been—who had crawled in and seduced Peggy’s drugged body—who and how
many were indulging in dangerous and hateful practices in this camp?
Dangerous and hateful, surely; nevertheless, the thought of love between
women sent a swift stab through Peggy’s flesh. Her blood stirred.
Guiltily, she took hold of herself. She would speak—right now—
But just as when previously she had nerved herself to this point, an
interruption came. The same kind of interruption.
Beth’s name was shouted from outside. Somebody was again hammering on
the screen door. Beth rushed out to answer.
Peggy heard a breathless counselor tell the nurse to come with her
immediately. “One of the Juniors fell down the lodge steps,” she panted.
“Pam said not to move her until you got there.”
Beth hurried back into her room, grabbed a cardigan sweater and a
flashlight. She seemed to have forgotten Peggy was there. In a couple of
seconds she was gone.
Peggy sat motionless, feeling peculiarly serene. She was illogically
sure that the fallen girl would be all right, once Beth got at her. Beth
had magic in her fingers, a personality warming and healing. Lesbian or
not, what a wonderful person Beth was.
Finally Peggy rose, took Beth’s cup and her own and walked to the sink.
After she had rinsed the dishes and set them to drain, her eyes swept
the homey room once more. Then she left, filled with an inner glow.
Yes. Beth had defended her once, when she had thought Peggy could not
defend herself. She would do it again, if called upon. That was all
Peggy had to know. There was someone on her side.
SEVEN
Except for the uneasiness she still felt in Mike’s presence, Peggy’s
tranquil new state persisted. She had avoided both the husky-voiced
redhead and the slim, elegant Lilian since that scene in their cabin,
but now, two days later, she knew an encounter with Lilian was
inevitable.
Peggy was trudging uphill behind an assemblage of berry-colored hikers
weighed down with cooking utensils, canteens, bedding and knapsacks.
Peggy herself was carrying on her back a load of food and hardware that
would have crushed a mule. Lilian, a hundred paces ahead, was leading
the procession.
Peggy urged on a couple of stragglers, then paused to light a cigarette,
shifted her load to the other hand, considering the possibility of
avoiding Lilian even now. But that would be silly, she chided herself,
as the girls made their way along the winding gravel road, past sloping
fields, old farmhouses, huge barns sometimes bright red, sometimes
weathered colorless by wind and rain and time.
Most of the dwellings were painted white. The troop paused to admire one
such house. It sat near the road on a carpet of thick green grass,
decorated with shrubbery and playful calico cats, perfumed by wild rose
and lilac bushes, surrounded by stretching acres of rich brown land.
Traffic was exceedingly sparse. Once a pickup truck came barreling down
the road and passed the campers. The driver honked and waved—to the
delight of the youngsters, who called greetings and flailed their arms
in the air. In a flurry of dust and gravel, the truck disappeared around
a curve, leaving the girls alone once more. They chattered and sang,
marching along at a comfortable pace.
At last they reached the Allister farmhouse, where they were to
replenish their water supply. They climbed a slope, rounded the house
and clustered around the pump in the back. The pump squeaked and groaned
as the girls took turns filling canteens and water jugs.
While the girls pumped, Peggy’s eyes roamed the rolling countryside.
Idly she wondered if she would like to live on a farm, or at least out
in the open, and knew instantly she would not.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
Peggy whirled, and stood speechless.
Standing in front of her was that—that delivery boy. The one she had met
in the woods.
“Hi,” he said, a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Well, don’t look
so surprised. I’m Kirby Davis, remember? And this is Aunt Lelia’s
place.” He laughed. “She always insists the girls stop here for
water—makes her feel as though she’s still part of camp.”
Peggy noticed how the sun glinted in his crisp hair.
“Nice view, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the fields at which Peggy
had been gazing. “You know, most city people who come out here think
they would like to stay forever. It’s so quiet and peaceful, they say.
But inside a week, they would be straining at their collars to get back
home to their sidewalks and soot. People today just don’t seem able to
live with themselves. They have to have someone or something else to—”
He stopped. “What’s the matter?”
Peggy was staring at Kirby Davis.
“You,” she said, “were carrying apple butter, right?”
“That’s right. Aunt Lelia’s best. She—”
“A heavy load of it, too.”
“You’re not kidding. Thought I’d break my back.”
“That was a peculiar way to deliver it.” Peggy pursed her lips. “Do you
mean to say that you carried it over the fields and through the
woods—all the way to camp—?”
The fellow chuckled. “I’m not that crazy!”
“Well,” said Peggy, “what were you doing in the woods, then? That’s a
funny place for a guy to be—sneaking around in the woods, right on the
edge of a girl’s camp!”
He gaped. “Say, you don’t think—I mean, are you trying to tell me I’m a
Peeping Tom or something?” The idea seemed inordinately amusing to him.
He broke into a guffaw, slapped his knobby knee. “For your information,
lady,” he sputtered, “our car ran out of gas about a mile from the main
gate. But through the woods it was only a couple of hundred yards to the
lodge. So I took the box of stuff and legged it to your kitchen.” He
guffawed again. “Excuse me for laughing, but ... Peeping Tom! I’ll be
damned!”
“A likely story,” Peggy said quietly. “Why didn’t you just borrow some
gas at the camp, then drive the truck in? That would have been easier
than carrying fifty pounds of loaded jars, wouldn’t it?”
Kirby scowled. “You’re not being serious, are you?”
“Hell, yes. Intruders are not welcome around girls’ cabins, you know.”
“But I wasn’t intruding. I felt like such a jerk, running out of gas and
all, that I thought I’d better have the apple butter with me in order to
soften up your chef. It was from him that I had to borrow a can, and a
siphon. It was his car I expected to get some gas from—and did. Maybe,”
said Kirby, “it seems silly now, but—”
“Oh, never mind,” Peggy said. This fellow didn’t look much like a
Peeping Tom, anyway. His lean face with its crooked smile was much too
frank and open. His tall body, lanky and rather knobby at the joints,
struck her as rather attractive. “I was just kidding.”
“Sure.” He was quite ready to forgive and forget. “What did you say your
name was?”
“Peggy Matthews,” she told him.
“How do you do, Peggy.”
“Well,” she said, “the kids are about finished loading up on your water.
I guess we’d better be moving on. We have a way to go yet.” She waved to
Lilian, who blew her whistle. The campers started marching off, some
calling goodbye to Kirby.
“Peggy—”
She halted, and he walked toward her.
“Were you thinking you would like to live in the country?”
Anger flashed through her. “No,” she said. “Although it would be nice to
be able to wander around for a while where no one would bother me.”
Kirby’s brown eyes widened. He turned, walked away without speaking.
Peggy gazed after him. Why had she been so rude? Was she that fed up
with the male sex?
During the hour-long walk from the Allister farm to the campsite, Peggy
forgot about Kirby Davis. Stew simmered over the open fire and was
eaten. The utensils were rinsed in a nearby stream and boiled in a big
black cooking pot. Games were played, stories told.
At last Peggy lay wrapped in her blankets, her thoughts drifting back to
her last evening with Beth. She felt as though she and Beth had
discussed in detail all the things that had been pulling at Peggy’s
mind, her sense of relief and well-being was so great. It was hard for
her to realize that nothing at all had actually changed.
But at least she could laugh at herself now when she remembered how
anxious she had been to test lesbian love. She realized she had been
behaving in quite as sex-preoccupied a fashion as Ted, whom she
condemned for it.
She still did wonder sometimes about making love with another woman,
especially when she recalled Mike’s massaging hands on her back—and even
more especially, the night of illicit pleasure in the Pillbox. But she
knew now that what she wanted and needed—much more than a bedmate—was a
friend.
Just then she glimpsed a figure moving among the sleeping campers. She
twisted her head to watch Lilian coming toward her, picking her way
quietly and carefully among the scattered bedrolls.
“One of the major catastrophes of camp counseling,” said Lilian, as she
sat down at Peggy’s feet, “is the lack of privacy. You’re always
watching, or being watched.”
Peggy sat up, hugged her knees. All right, so here was Lilian. Might as
well be as friendly as possible. “Got a cigarette handy?”
Lilian lit one, passed it to Peggy.
Peggy smoked calmly, waiting for Lilian to go on but she, too, had
fallen silent. The only sounds were from the crickets and the rippling
stream some fifty yards away. Then in the distance, a dog howled. One of
the campers stirred restlessly. After the girl had settled down, Lilian
spoke again.
“I’m glad of this chance to talk, Peggy. At camp we’re always so busy.
We never get together for long. And there’s practically no opportunity
to be alone—one advantage of these hideous sleepouts,” she said with a
wry laugh.
“You don’t like them?” Peggy was shocked.
“Do you? What is there to like? Except that it gets us away from camp
routine—which can be even more hideous.”
There was no moon, and the stars did not cast enough light for Peggy to
make out the expression on Lilian’s face. But she was uncomfortably
aware that Lilian was staring toward her. Lilian was shrewd and alert,
and had been working at this camp for several years. Surely, if the
place were in the slightest tainted by lesbianism, Lilian would know it.
Unquestionably, for instance, she would know about Mike, and this would
explain her coldness toward Mike. It would also explain why she had not
encouraged chumminess between Mike and Peggy; no doubt Lilian had been
suspicious of Mike’s intentions and had wanted Peggy to be away from her
influence. It would explain, too, why Lilian had held herself rather
aloof from Peggy since stumbling on Mike massaging her with liniment.
All these thoughts were in Peggy’s mind as she felt Lilian’s stare on
her. No doubt she strongly suspected that Peggy had given way to
temptation.
Her next words confirmed Peggy’s suspicions.
“The thing that beats me,” Lilian said, “is that you seem pretty thick
with Mike.”
“I was,” Peggy said. “I don’t see much of her any more.”
“But what did you ever see in a girl like that? God—she’s not even a
girl. She’s a—a lady wrestler. Peggy, for your own good, there are some
things I ought to tell you about her.”
“Really?”
“I—”
Lilian hushed. One of the campers was tossing about in her nearby
bedroll.
Lilian waited. The girl sat up, rubbed her eyes. She looked around,
noticed the counselors close by, and reached for her flashlight. Peggy
and Lilian sat quietly as she tiptoed toward them. They recognized her
as the cute blond ten-year-old, Susie.
“Miss Peggy,” she began in a sleepy voice, “I have to go to the
bathroom.”
Peggy grinned in the darkness. “You do, hey? Well,” she said unwinding
herself from her blankets, “I guess we’d better take a walk.” Peggy
stood up, slipped on her shoes. She took Susie by the hand.
As they tripped their way toward the brush surrounding the sleepers, the
girl spoke. “Do you think I could go on the next overnight, Miss Peggy?”
“I’m not sure, Susie. I didn’t know you liked it that much. I’ll bear
you in mind, and we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
The girl nodded, temporarily satisfied.
Peggy patiently killed time while Susie went behind what she considered
a proper bush. When she had emerged, she said, “I’m sorry to be such a
baby about the dark. But I am, that’s all. I’m afraid of it.”
As they returned to the sleeping area, Susie was still talking. “Are you
and Miss Lilian going to sit up all night?”
“Of course not, Susie. We just had some things to discuss.”
“I’m glad,” the girl said with obvious relief. She hesitated a moment
because they had come to Peggy’s bedroll, where Lilian was still
sitting. “You see,” Susie began, “I want to—” She stopped, took another
approach. “Would it be all right—I mean, well, I wondered if maybe I
could move my blankets close to you because—”
Lilian said, “Oh, nonsense.”
“You’re not afraid of sleeping out here, are you, Susie?” Peggy asked.
“Well, kinda,” the girl admitted.
“Why do you want to come on more overnight hikes if you don’t like
them?” Peggy wanted to know.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like them—I said I was a little afraid. You told
us that good campers aren’t afraid.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe
after a couple more overnights I’ll be a good camper like you and Miss
Lilian.”
Peggy stood smiling as Lilian led the girl to her bedroll, and tucked
her in. Then Peggy crawled into her own blankets and lay staring through
the pine boughs at the star patterns in the inky sky. After a while she
was lulled to sleep by the serenading crickets.
She was awakened by a noise. It sounded like someone sobbing. Her first
impulse was to reach over and switch on the light, but then she sat up.
Those were sobs all right, coming from one of the girls.
Peggy’s eyes combed the dark lumps that were campers curled in their
bedrolls. She made out Lilian cradling a form, and immediately rose to
join her.
“It’s all right,” Lilian snapped, as Peggy neared the spot. Lilian moved
away from the still sobbing girl, and Peggy saw that it was Susie. “She
was having a nightmare, that’s all,” Lilian said. “You didn’t have to
bother. She’ll be fine in a couple of minutes.”
Peggy kneeled. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Susie. Miss Lilian is
right here in case anything happens. You go to sleep now. And no more
bad dreams.” Susie stopped crying. Peggy pulled the covers around the
girl and stood up.
“Lucky thing I was awake,” Lilian whispered. “I’m just not sleepy. Never
am on these outdoor jaunts.”
They waited a few moments. Susie seemed quiet. Peggy started to walk
toward her blankets. Lilian walked along beside her.
“I was telling you about Mike, before,” Lilian reminded Peggy. “Now that
we’re both up, I might as well continue. You see, that girl can do
others a lot of harm. She looks like one of those candid, honest types,
but she can invent the most awful gossip. Of course, that’s far from the
worst of it. She ... Susie!”
The blond ten-year-old stood before them, clutching the bedroll she
dragged behind her.
Lilian laughed. So did Peggy. “Oh, I guess I might as well let her sleep
alongside me.”
“Think you should?” Lilian frowned. “It’s against the rules. Special
privileges, and all that—”
Peggy was as concerned for herself as for Susie. With the child so
close, it would be impossible for Lilian to discuss Mike further, or
probe Peggy’s relations with Mike. What would happen if Lilian ever
discovered that Mike had doped Peggy and abused her on a night as dark
as this one—and, worse, had made Peggy like it?
“It’s more important that Susie get some sleep than that vague rules be
observed,” Peggy said. “Go ahead, Susie. Spread your blankets and
stretch out.”
“Peggy, you’re absolutely right,” Lilian said, smiling, and strolled off
to her own bedroll.
But little Susie was not satisfied. About to fall asleep again, Peggy
felt the girl stir, then crawl right in under Peggy’s covers. The
compact young form snuggled right up close to Peggy’s body and
contentedly sighed.
Peggy smiled in the dark, and kissed Susie’s sweet-smelling blond
tresses.
An emotion of peace and profound happiness stole over Peggy. How
wonderful thus to be needed and trusted by a child. Of all the gifts,
Peggy thought at that moment, the greatest was to be a mother.
Peggy frowned.
Were lesbians ever mothers?
* * * * *
The next time Peggy woke, the sun was peeping over a far hill. Birds
were calling to the campers from the trees.
One by one the girls opened their eyes, rubbed at them, and sat up,
still huddling under their covers, hiding from the early-morning chill.
Several campers were surprised to note Susie peeking out from Peggy’s
blankets.
Within half an hour everyone was up, dressed, and busy at assigned
tasks: tying up bedrolls, collecting firewood, clearing the fire circle,
setting out dishes, and preparing breakfast.
Campers and counselors were wolfing down hot chocolate when the camp
station wagon pulled up. The door swung open and Pam Michaels, Mike’s
older sister, slid out.
Pam was a slight girl—not much over five feet, and very small-boned.
Despite her frail appearance, she had Mike’s red hair, freckled
complexion and other characteristics. She strode over to the campers
with the gait of a master sergeant.
“Hi, gang,” she said in her surprisingly husky voice.
The young campers chorused answering greetings as the assistant director
joined Peggy and Lilian. Lilian walked to the fire, poured herself some
more chocolate.
“Hiya,” Pam said. “How’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” Lilian said. “But we still have the long walk home.”
“Looks like you’ll have a nice day for it,” Pam said. “Radio says it
won’t get too hot.” She turned toward the girls. “Let’s get a move on,”
she called. “Where are the bedrollers?”
Three campers set down their plates and went with Pam to load the
bedding into the wagon. When they had finished, Pam rejoined the group.
“Too bad you aren’t ready,” she said, grinning. “I could drive you all
back.”
“Oh ... you say that every time, Miss Pam,” one of the children groaned.
“Some day maybe we’ll fool you.”
Pam grinned and tousled the youngster’s hair. She helped herself to a
cup of hot chocolate.