Debutante Hill (15 page)

Oh, Paul, she thought miserably. Oh, Paul!

Dirk was giving her a funny look. “Is anything the matter?”

“What?” Lynn shook her head. “Oh, no. I was just noticing the party at the Petersons'. It's supposed to be a treasure hunt tonight. It looks like it might be a good one.”

“Oh!” Dirk was still looking at her sideways. “Your fellow—the one you go with—the Kingsley boy. How come you're not going out with him? He's home now, isn't he?”

“Yes, he's home,” Lynn said wearily. “He might as well not be, though. All we've done since he got here is fight.”

Dirk said, “Are you wearing his ring, by any chance?”

Lynn put her hand up and felt for the chain. It was there, as it always was, light and warm around her neck, with the weight of the ring swinging beneath her blouse. She thought of Paul's words when he gave it to her. “You're my girl. We've got something between us worth hanging onto.”

But we don't, she thought miserably. Not any more. I'm not his girl, and we don't have anything between us at all.

She reached up with both hands and unfastened the little chain and drew it from around her neck. Then she opened her pocketbook and dumped both chain and ring inside.

“There,” she said quietly. And then, suddenly, through the calm and composure, came the tears. Her eyes stung with the salty drops. She shut them tightly, but the tears pushed their way out from under her lashes.

Dirk said, “Don't, please!” He pulled the car to the side of the road and shut off the engine. He said, “Please, Lynn—”

He moved over and put his arm around her, not the way
he had before, but with a hesitant gentleness. Lynn pressed her face against his shoulder, trying to stop the tears. But she could not. They came anyway.

“I'm s-sorry,” she sobbed. “I'm s-so ashamed of myself. Here I am out with y-you—and you've been so nice to me—and I act like this. But oh, Dirk, when you go with somebody—and he's really special—and then you break up—”

“I know,” Dirk said quietly. “I know what it is to—to care about somebody—and not have it work. Go ahead and cry, if it'll make you feel any better. I don't care.”

And now, because it was all right to cry, Lynn immediately found that she no longer wanted to. The pain was still there, and the emptiness, but there were no more tears. She sat very quietly, acutely conscious of Dirk's arm around her shoulders. She felt as though it did not belong there, but there was not much she could do about it. And it was comforting, in a way. She let herself relax against him, and he tightened his arm a little, and she found it was really not unpleasant at all.

“I've got a job,” Dirk said suddenly. “In Burton's Garage, after school and on Saturdays.”

“You do?” Lynn said, surprised. “Why, that's grand.”

“I thought you'd be glad,” Dirk said. He hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little shaky. “Look, Lynn, I know I'm not the kind of guy you're used to going with. Not like Kingsley, for instance. It's not just that I don't have the things they have, the nice cars and coming from the Hill and all. I know I've done some things I shouldn't have done. I don't know how to say this—”

“Don't,” Lynn said, suddenly nervous. “Don't go on,
Dirk. You don't have to say this to me.”

“Yes, I do. I want to.” His words came out in a kind of rush. “Look, Lynn, I'm going to try. I swear I am. I'm going to keep straight and go around with the right kind of fellows and keep out of trouble. I want to be the kind of guy you'd be proud to go with.”

“Dirk; don't!” Lynn reached up, trying to put her hand over his lips. This was what she had wanted, that he should reform because of her, and yet, now that he was actually saying it, the responsibility was oddly terrifying.

“No,” she said, “not just for me. For yourself, for your father, for Anne—”

“For you,” Dirk said. He moved his arm from around her shoulders, and Lynn drew away in relief.

Dirk reached forward and opened the glove compartment of the car. He took out a small cardboard box.

“This is for you,” he said. “A Christmas present.”

“Why, it's not Christmas yet,” Lynn reminded him nervously. She took the box in her hands. “Do you—do you want me to open it?”

Dirk nodded. “I know it's not Christmas but I want you to have it now. Especially since you're not wearing that chain and ring any longer.”

The little box was not wrapped. Lynn lifted the lid easily. She caught her breath as she saw the string of pearls which lay inside.

“Oh, Dirk, how beautiful!” And in almost the same breath, “I can't accept anything like this!”

“Sure you can. It's just a Christmas present. All guys give their girls Christmas presents.”

Lynn opened her mouth to say, “But I'm not your girl.
And even if I were—” But she had no chance to shape the words, for Dirk was still talking, his voice very earnest, an open, defenseless look on his face that made him look very, very young.

“This was my mother's. Her folks gave it to her on her twenty-first birthday, and Dad would never let her sell it, even when the going was toughest. He said he wanted her to have
something
nice, even if he wasn't the one to give it to her. After she married Dad, her folks never gave her anything again.” He took a deep breath. “She left it to me. She left the rest of her stuff to Anne, but this was for me, so I'd have something to give to the ‘right girl' when I found her. I didn't have the nerve to give it to you before, so I thought I'd keep it for Christmas. Everybody gives things at Christmas. And now you're not going with Kingsley any longer—”

His voice broke, and he leaned forward so that his face was buried against her hair.

“I know I can't give you the kind of things he must have been able to. But I want you to have this. Please—I'll probably never have anything as nice to give you again.”

Lynn closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the back of the seat.

She thought, what should I do? I know I shouldn't accept a present like this, especially from Dirk. I'm not in love with him, and it would not mean what he wants it to mean, and it's much too expensive a present. But how can I say no? It would hurt him terribly.

“All right,” she said at last. “I will keep it. And thank you so much, Dirk. It's one of the most beautiful things I have ever owned.”

He put his arms around her, and she knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she could not draw away. Not now. Not even with the tears about Paul not quite dry on her cheeks.

“I love you,” Dirk whispered. “Please, please try to love me too.”

There was something terrifying in having a boy like this, a hard, tough boy, suddenly weak before her, clinging to her in a kind of desperation.

She thought, I don't want this. Please, please, I don't want this.

But she sat very still beside him, and when he kissed her, she wanted to cry—for him, and for her, too. And she thought Paul—Paul—

The house was very quiet when Lynn got in. The only downstairs light was the one left burning for her in the hall, and she realized with a start that her mother and father must already be in bed.

Her first feeling was one of relief. She was sure that something of the night's happenings must show on her face, and she was glad that she would not have to face her mother until morning. On second thought, however, she almost wished her mother was up waiting for her, for then she would be forced to show her the necklace and tell her about the evening, and somehow the telling of it would be a relief.

She climbed the stairs slowly, hesitating beside her parents' half-open door.

“Lynn?” It was her father's voice, muffled with sleep.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Didn't want to go to sleep till you got in. You're late, Daughter.”

“Yes, I know.” She searched desperately in her mind for some excuse. She could think of none. “We—we just got talking, and I lost track of time. I'm sorry.”

“If you're mature enough to be dating, you're mature enough not to lose track of time.” Her father yawned. “Oh,
well, we'll hash it over in the morning. Get to bed now.”

“Yes, Daddy. Good night.”

Lynn continued down the hall, grateful that her father had been too tired for a real scolding this evening. By morning, he might have forgotten the hour she arrived home.

And then, at the entrance to their shared bathroom, she ran into the one person she definitely did not want to see—her sister.

“Hi!” Dodie said “Have you seen Daddy? He's simply livid because you're so late getting home. What on earth were you doing so late?”

“None of your business,” Lynn retorted. And then, “What are
you
doing up, anyway, if it's so late?”

“Putting up my hair,” Dodie said. “It always takes me a long time, and Ronnie likes it curly.” She gave her sister a sharp glance. “You've been crying.”

Lynn knew it was useless to try to evade the issue. Nothing ever escaped Dodie's prying eyes. Too late, she glanced down and saw that she was still holding the cardboard box in her hands.

Dodie had, of course, seen this too. Her gaze fastened on it and then traveled up again, to focus on her sister's face, and, to Lynn's surprise, there was no mischief in it.

“Whatever it is that's the matter,” Dodie said, “would you like to tell me about it? I won't say anything to Mother or Daddy, if you don't want me to. I'll just listen, and maybe I can help you work it out. I'm pretty good at solving things.”

To her own surprise, Lynn found herself nodding in agreement. “Yes,” she said, “I guess I would like to talk about it.”

“Come on then,” Dodie said, her usual briskness returning. “We can go in my room, where we can talk without waking up everybody else in the house.”

Still a little bewildered by the course of events, Lynn followed her sister into her bedroom.

Dodie's room was like Dodie herself, bright and neat and animated. In contrast to the gentle pastels of Lynn's room, Dodie's red and white plaid curtains seemed to be made for blowing in a wind, and there was a smart, tailored look to the straight white bedspread and the red and gold band around the apron on the dressing table. Lynn realized with surprise that she had very seldom been in her sister's room. It was almost like visiting with a stranger. She had an impulse to say, “How attractive everything is! How neat you keep your things!” but she restrained herself. Instead, she sat down awkwardly on the comer of the bed, while Dodie seated herself in the white and gold armchair.

“O.K.,” she said, “begin.”

“I don't quite know how to begin,” Lynn said awkwardly. “Everything's such a mess. You know about Paul, and then tonight with Dirk—I couldn't hurt him, not after he's changed so much, just for my sake. I didn't know what to do!”

“Look,” Dodie said briskly, “start with first things first For instance, what's in the box?”

“A necklace.” Lynn opened the lid and drew forth the string of pearls.

Dodie caught her breath. “Golly Moses, Lynn! Are they real?”

“I think so,” Lynn said. “They were Dirk's mother's. That's one thing that made it so hard—I
couldn't
say ‘no' to
something that meant so much to him. But the way he gave it to me—the things he said—I feel so responsible—”

She went on with the story, discovering it was easier and easier to find words as she watched the sympathetic expression on Dodie's face. She found herself telling even more than she had intended to, telling the little things—how she had seen the treasure-hunt party, the boy she thought might be Paul, the way she had cried against Dirk's shoulder, the things he had said and the things she had answered.

“So,” she finished finally, “there just wasn't anything else to do. I couldn't refuse to take them, could I?”

Dodie was silent a moment. Then she said, ‘It's a real problem, isn't it? It's easy for me to give advice, because I'm not part of it. If I were, I don't know what I'd do.”

“Well, as the disinterested party, what do you think?”

Lynn found herself waiting in real anxiety for Dodie's answer.

“It seems to me there's just one thing you can do. Give the necklace back and break with Dirk just as fast as you can.”

“But I can't!” Lynn exclaimed. “Not after tonight. It's too late for that.”

Dodie shook her head. “It's too late for anything else. The way it looks to me, this thing is snowballing into something that's going to be too big to deal with, if you don't cut it off right now. Dirk isn't just a little kid with his first puppy love; he's a couple of years older than you are, practically a man, and he's been around and he's serious. And you're not.” She hesitated. “That is right, isn't it Lynn? You're not in love with him, too?”

“Of course not,” Lynn asserted. “But I like him, and
I don't want to hurt him. And if being in love with me is going to change him—to make a better person of him—”

“Then what's going to happen when he wants you to go steady with him? Are you going to go along with that too, because you think it will help him?”

“I told you, I'm not in love with him. Of course, I wouldn't go steady with him. But I guess I see what you mean. I'd have to break off with him then, and by that time he would have come to count on me more and more, and it would be much worse.” She sighed and got slowly to her feet “Thanks, Dodie. I feel better now. I guess I did just want to talk it out with somebody. I see now that there's just one thing I can do.”