"That's exactly what I want you to be," Ellen said.
This time she kept her eyes on the road. It was best not to notice that he was human. Instructing herself to think of him as a part of this experiment, this Ellen-is-a-good-Stanford deception, she concentrated on getting to Uncle Vester's farm as fast as she could. Fortunately for her, the gravel roads were free of tractors and pickers and plows. Otherwise she would have smashed half the farm vehicles in this part of Lawrence County.
Several cows stopped chewing their cuds long enough to watch her perilous progress through the county, and a few farmers, familiar with the aging Buick, noted that the Stanford girl was back in town, the crazy one who'd gone off to take a highfalutin degree and ended up on a mountain somewhere in North Carolina talking to monkeys.
o0o
Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie were sitting on their front porch, straining their eyes into the distance, when Ellen's car entered their lane. They watched it weave in and out among the hundred- year-old oak trees.
Uncle Vester shoved his glasses to the top of his balding head.
"She still drives just like her daddy, God rest his soul. Mark my words, Lollie: Someday she's gonna wrap herself around a tree just like Mike did."
"Hush that foolish talk, Vester. She's the spittin' image of dear departed Evelyn, and now that she's finally giving up that monkey business and settling down I don't want you to say a word about how she's lived on that mountain all those years, fiddling away her life when she should have been preserving the family name."
Aunt Lollie adjusted her blue gingham apron around her vast bulk and hauled herself out of her rocking chair. The cane bottom creaked with relief and the old chair continued to rock long after Lollie had vacated it.
They stood on the porch, their faces wreathed in smiles, as Ellen parked beside a 1955 Chevrolet pickup and ran up the steps to greet them. She hugged Aunt Lollie first, pressing her cheek against the sparse gray hair. The pungent scent of cinnamon tickled her nose. Some things never change, she thought. Aunt Lollie still smelled like gingerbread. As she gathered Uncle Vester to her heart she noticed that he fit loosely into his faded overalls, a bag of bones held together by stringy muscle and fierce pride.
Dirk watched the greetings from the porch steps. A faint summer breeze stirred the humid air, and a mockingbird on a nearby mimosa tree scolded its mate. Around him the earth, still damp from an early morning shower, released its rich, black smell. Dirk had the sensation of being in the center of life itself, of feeling the pregnant pulse of the land and of witnessing the miracle of growth. He decided to blame his feelings on too much companionship with Gigi. Otherwise he might have headed down the lane and back toward freedom.
"And is this the young man you wrote us about?" Aunt Lollie asked. As Dirk came up the porch steps she captured his hand in her fat ones. "My, my, you're a fine, sturdy-looking man." Her faded blue eyes perused him from top to bottom. "Good strong legs.
fine
breadth of chest. You'll make good babies."
"I have all my teeth too." Dirk smiled good- naturedly to show that he was not in the least bothered by Aunt Lollie's remarks.
Uncle Vester hooted with laughter and pinched Ellen's cheek. "You took your time about it, young 'un, but I think you picked a winner. What'd you say his name is?"
"Dirk Smith." she said.
"Dirk Caldwell," Dirk said at the same time.
Ellen gave him a
Be Quiet
look. "His name is Dirk Smith Caldwell, Uncle Vester. The third."
"Come from a long line of Caldwells, do you, son?" Uncle Vester asked. "Well, I like that in a man. Carrying the family name and all. Ellen's been stuck off on that mountain for years now. . ."
"Ves-ter . . ." Aunt Lollie warned.
Uncle Vester took Dirk's arm and bustled down the steps to get the bags. "Show Ellen to the guest room, Lollie. We'll have a little talk while we unload the car." He winked at Dirk. "Man talk."
Before she went into the house with her aunt, Ellen took one last look to see how Dirk was handling this massive dose of family. She need not have worried. He and Uncle Vester were laughing together like two old cronies. He looked up from the car trunk and signaled okay. His smile was so mischievous, she decided that perhaps she should be worrying for herself. There was no telling what sort of fantasies Dirk was spinning for Uncle Vester.
The screen door popped behind them as she followed Aunt Lollie into the house. Air conditioning was considered a modern foolishness by her relatives. The ceiling fans—their one concession to comfort—did little to cool the humid air. By the time Ellen reached the top of the stairs, her dress was clinging damply to her skin.
"Well, here we are." Aunt Lollie flung open the door to a large bedroom. A massive armoire dominated one corner of the room, a four-poster bed the other.
Ellen sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down like a child. "You still have feather mattresses! I'm so glad."
Memories of days gone by flooded her mind. She could almost hear winter winds outside the window and smell the popcorn. She could almost feel the sweaty-sticky bodies of her cousins as they cuddled together in the featherbed, perspiring from the mountain of quilts Aunt Lollie had piled on top of them to keep them warm.
"Will Emmaline and Carol be coming?" she asked.
Tears sprang to Aunt Lollies eyes as she thought of her two daughters. "Carol and her husband are off in Spain. Lord only knows when they'll get back. They gallivant all the time. Emmaline and her husband will take the other upstairs bedroom. I’ll put little Eddie on the den sofa."
Ellen ticked off the rooms on her fingers as Aunt Lollie talked. If she was remembering correctly, every available sleeping space had been accounted for.
"Do you still have Carol's sleeping bag? Dirk can use that."
Aunt Lollie tiptoed to the bedroom door and peered down the hall. Then, giving Ellen a conspiratorial smile, she shut the door and tiptoed back across the room.
"I wanted to surprise you," she whispered. "Vester and I still remember what it was like to be young and in love. You might say that we're modern in matters like these."
Ellen's heart sank right down to her toes as she realized what Aunt Lollie was saying. "I'm sure Dirk won't mind a sleeping bag for this short stay," she said, almost desperately.
Aunt Lollie dismissed that foolish notion with a wave of her hands. "Nonsense, Ellen. What would dear departed Evelyn say if she knew I'd made her daughter's fiance sleep on the floor? Besides that, you're not all that young anymore. It would please me and Vester no end to know that your first child had been conceived right here in Lawrence County. Right here on this featherbed."
She patted the bed for emphasis. A soft feather worked loose from the old mattress and floated to the floor.
Ellen looked down at the feather and back at Aunt Lollie. What could she say? she wondered. That Dirk was not her fiance and that she didn't even plan to sleep with him, let alone conceive anything with him?
Of course not
. She had made her bed, as the old saying went, and now she was going to have to lie in it. She gave Aunt Lollie a brave smile.
Lie
was certainly an appropriate word for what she was about to do.
"I knew I could count on you to think of every thing. Aunt Lollie. I just can't tell you what this means to me!"
She certainly couldn't, she said to herself. It meant sleepless nights and a foolish, runaway heart. It meant pretending to appear nonchalant and trying not to look when he pulled off his shirt. It meant sorely regretting this charade and wishing that she had never heard of Dirk. It meant hoping she would not invite him onto that featherbed to embark upon an affair that she knew would be more than casual, an affair that would threaten her carefully planned future and jeopardize her heart.
Aunt Lollie clapped her hands in delight. "We both just knew you'd be tickled pink. Now, you two freshen up"—she paused to wink broadly—"and I’ll go downstairs to see about supper."
A loud clatter outside the door announced the arrival of the men with the bags. The two old conspirators wasted no time in leaving Ellen and Dirk to themselves. Winking at each other and exchanging significant grins, they made their departure.
Ellen waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps in the hallway.
"They're about as subtle as a freight train," she said.
Her damp dress clung to her legs as she paced the room. She waved her arms around for emphasis as she talked, and she was altogether a different woman from the ever- cool, always-in-charge Dr. Ellen Stanford, who did primate language research on Beech Mountain.
"What in the world are we going to do about this mess?" she added.
Dirk began to unbutton his shirt. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going to take a bath. It's hotter than the Equator around here."
"Take a bath!"
"That's right, my darling." He removed his damp shirt and hung it over the back of a chair. "Care to join me?"
She wanted to tear his outrageous grin from his face. If the sight of that magnificent chest hadn't stopped her, she probably would have.
"Stop calling me that, and don't you dare pull off your pants! You've got to help me think of a way out of this mess."
As he strolled across the room Ellen spotted a jagged scar on his back. It started high on his shoulder and angled downward. She sucked in a sharp breath, and for an instant she forgot the matter at hand.
Dirk chose that moment to turn around. He saw the look on her face, the questions in her eyes, and he knew it was the scar.
Damn
. Short of explaining the scar, which he could not do, the only way to make her forget was to make her mad. He grinned as he reached for his belt buckle and began unfastening it.
"I think the arrangements here are great." He pushed open the bathroom door and finished goading her over the sound of running water. "Don't worry, darling," he called. "I thanked Uncle Vester properly."
His ploy worked.
"You knew before you came upstairs? That's why you were grinning like a cat eating persimmons."
She marched into the bathroom, intent on making it perfectly clear what she thought of the arrangements.
Dirk was standing beside the tub in his shorts. "Did you decide to join me, my darling?"
She threw a bar of soap at him. He ducked and it landed with a plop in the water. Dr. Ellen Stanford propped her hands on her hips and glared at the outrageous man.
"My aunt and uncle may be a couple of old romantics, but I'm not. I'm completely uninterested in anything except my career. Your being here is a result of temporary insanity on my part, so don't be getting any ideas."
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and grinned at her. "I'm not. Are you?"
She whirled and left the bathroom. Putting her hands to her hot face, she stood in the middle of the bedroom in a moment of indecision. In a burst of guilty hindsight she realized she had reacted like a blushing teenager instead of a worldly-wise adult. He must think she was out here panting for that mouth-watering body.
Well
, she'd show him that he was nothing more than a business arrangement.
Thrusting out her chin, she marched back into the bathroom. Droplets of water dotted the black hairs on his chest and arms and glistened on his bronzed skin. For a moment she forgot why she had come. When her tongue finally unglued itself from the roof of her dry mouth, she spoke.
"This is my charade, Dirk, and we'll do it my way. If you get out of line just once. I’ll let Gigi have you." Satisfied that she was again in charge, she started to the bathroom door. Then she added, "Well take turns using the bed. Tonight's my night."
She was limp with relief when she reentered the bedroom. "You forgot to scrub my back," he called through the open door.
She replied by slamming the door shut so hard, it vibrated on its hinges.
o0o
Ellen considered it a small miracle that they made it down the stairs to supper before she killed him. Not only had he shown no modesty in getting dressed, but he had acted as if he enjoyed the whole thing.
Her own bath had been a nightmare. He had tootled in and out of the bathroom, whistling and retrieving first his shaving kit and then his shaving cream, remarking that she was better- looking than any roommate he ever had in the Army, but that personally he preferred women with bigger breasts.
She was breathless and flushed when they entered the formal dining room. Seeing her, Aunt Lollie stopped tossing the salad and beamed.
"My, my," she said. "There's nothing like a cozy afternoon to put color into a girl's cheeks."
Dirk wrapped his arm around Ellen and kissed her on the nape of the neck. "That's just what I told my darling before we left the bathtub."
Ellen jabbed his ribs. "I napped while he bathed. Just couldn't hold my eyes open after that long drive."
"Well, boy," Uncle Vester said, "sit down and tell us about yourself."