Finding My Own Way (14 page)

“That one just hangs on you,” Margaret declared. “Where's your bosom, anyway? Here, try this one. What about Bobby? He's still there, I suppose. Remember how he was always trying to flirt with me?”

“You'll be happy to know that he's never tried anything with me.”

“Good,” said Margaret. “Once he knows there's no funny business, he's usually okay.”

I pulled a turquoise skirt out of the pile of clothes. “I love the colour of this,” I said, stepping into it. “It always looked so nice on you that I wonder why you're getting rid of it.”

“It's just old, that's all,” said Margaret, with an offhand gesture.

“You know, Margaret,” I began, wondering how much I could tell, “I'm kind of worried about Gloria.”

“I'm telling you, Libby, Gloria Hooper is easy,” my friend stated, before I could open my mouth again. “She's asking for trouble. Just look at how she dresses.”

It was then, standing in Margaret's glamourous bedroom in a second-hand skirt that she'd grown tired of, that I decided to keep Gloria's secret. “I think Gloria wears what makes her happy,” I said.

Margaret's parents left to go to a movie, so we went to sit outside on the porch swing. The evening was soft and warm, fragrant with the scent of the nicotiana that lined the walk. We swayed back and forth together, our conversation as languid as our movements.

Suddenly, a red convertible swept up to the curb, its radio blaring. Its occupants were waving and calling out. “Hey, Mike,” one of the young men in the car yelled. “We're here!”

Michael hurried out through the front door, preparing to leap the steps, but seeing us, he stopped. “You girls want to come?”

Margaret kept the porch swing in motion. “Whereya going?”

“For ice cream at the dairy bar.”

My pulse quickened. Please say yes, I silently begged.

“Want to, Libby?” Margaret's tone was nonchalant.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to appear too eager. “If you do.”

“Come on, then,” Michael urged. “Don't keep these fellas waiting!” He leapt into the car without opening the door and dropped smoothly onto the front seat beside the driver and another fellow.

Margaret and I got into the back with a boy I'd never seen before. Flinging an arm over the seat, Michael grinned back at us. “Carl,” he said, “you know my sister Margaret? This is her friend Libby. Libby, meet Carl. Carl, meet Libby.” Carl, who looked as though he'd rather climb out over the side, gave me a rapid smile and then concentrated on something across the road.

We took off, tires squealing, and roared down the street to the dairy bar on the outskirts of town. When we swung into the parking lot, swirling gravel, I was thrown against Carl. “Sorry,” I apologized when the vehicle finally stopped, and I regained my balance.

“That's what we call an opportunity corner,” said the driver, winking at me in the rear view mirror.

A girl, carrying a tray and dressed like a cheerleader, came to take our order. “I can pay for my own,” I said, swivelling open the catch on my purse.

“Forget it,” smiled Michael. “Your money's no good here. I'm treating the girls, Roy.”

Cars pulled in and other cars left. Margaret and I called out to old friends, and the boys got out every now and then to peer under someone else's hood. I was having
trouble concentrating on what Margaret was telling me, because I didn't want to miss a word from Michael in the front seat. Margaret's story had something to do with Mr. Wonderful, Derek, with whom she was madly in love. He had suggested they break up sooner, rather than later, because he was staying on in Gravenhurst, and she was going to be going away soon to business college.

I was listening to Margaret, keeping an ear open for words of wisdom from Michael, and trying to prevent the shell of chocolate from sliding off my ice cream cone onto my new hand-me-down skirt. But it was heaven. I watched the swirling halo of insects around the streetlight and thought how perfectly happy I was at that very moment.

A short forty minutes later, we screeched to a stop outside the Pacey home again, and Margaret and I climbed out. Michael vaulted into the seat we'd vacated in the back, and the red car sped off, its four occupants laughing and hooting.

I really didn't feel like talking when I lay down on the twin bed in Margaret's room. I just wanted to lie there and dream about Michael. I wondered if the fact that I'd caught him watching me at suppertime meant that he sensed this attraction I felt for him. Could I dare hope he felt it too? After all, Michael had come by my house on his motorcycle to see me. He hadn't had to do that. It was a delicious thought.

“Mother says you're going back to Toronto after the summer.” Margaret spoke into the dark bedroom.

“That's what some people think,” I acknowledged.

“What are you going to do? Get your Grade Thirteen?”

“I'm not sure about going back to school. But if I do, it'll be right here, at Consolidated.”

“Really?” In the light from the hall I could see Margaret raise herself on one elbow. “But you can't, can you?”

“Why not?”

“Isn't it against the law for a seventeen-year-old to be living alone?”

“How's the law going to find out?”

“I don't know, Libby.” Her tone was cautious. “Everyone knows you're home for the summer. Maybe people think Irene's with you. But in September?”

“I'm going to get a job at the newspaper,” I said, rolling away to face the wall. “And I'm going to live at home.”

“How can you stand being alone all the time?” Margaret's voice was getting sleepy.

“It's not all the time,” I said. “I'm at work most days.”

“I just know I would die of loneliness,” said Margaret.

“I don't think it's something you die of,” I said. But I remembered how alone I had felt after Irene had left the last time, and how empty the little house had seemed when I returned to it after walking Gloria to the corner.

“But you do get lonely,” Margaret insisted.

“Sure I do. I honestly hadn't realized how lonely I'd be, when I decided to come back.” And I'd forgotten how black the nights are in the country. On nights when there is no moon, the dark is absolute.

“So, what do you do about it?”

I sighed. “I talk to my dog. I listen to the radio; I love the plays on Sunday nights. And I keep busy. I write in my journal. But sometimes, I can't do anything to stop it.
It's just there, and I give in to it.”

For a long time no one said anything. “Michael dropped by my place on his motorcycle one day,” I said, just before I fell asleep. “Anna Nobles was with him.”

“Anna Banana!” Margaret exploded, suddenly awake.

“Do they go around together?”

“Don't ask me! All I know is Mother can't stand her.” That sounded promising.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because Mother detests bossy women. She says Anna has Michael wrapped around her little finger.”

Oh well, I thought, I'd been the one having ice cream with Michael tonight. Not Anna.

“It won't last much longer anyway,” Margaret yawned. “Michael's been accepted at Queen's in the fall.”

Margaret left late Sunday afternoon to go back to the Inn, eager to convince Derek that they didn't have to break up yet; they could still have the rest of the summer together. After we had seen her off, Mrs. Pacey dropped me at my place. Within ten minutes of my arrival, Ernie trotted down the road from the McIntyres', knowing instinctively that I'd be home. I fed him and ate the roast beef sandwich Margaret's mother had pressed on me, still savouring my time in the Pacey household. I took comfort in knowing that Fern Pacey disliked Anna Nobles.

I was in my bedroom, unpacking my overnight bag, when Ernie left me and pattered downstairs. I heard him bark, and remembering I'd left the outside door to the back kitchen unlocked, I hurried down myself.

“What is it, boy?” I checked the window at the foot of the stairs. A car was pulled up in the lane at the side of
the house, and its driver was making his way around to the back. Ernie raced me to the kitchen. Opening the inside door I discovered, leaning against the frame as if he owned the place, Bobby Baker, the assistant manager of Savaway.

“So this is where you hide out,” he said with a sly smile, his tongue playing a toothpick across his lips. He ignored the dog's inquisitive nose.

By coming through the back kitchen, he was practically in the house already. I released Ernie's collar. “It's okay, boy,” I said. Trusting me, Ernie bounded down the passage to see if there were any more visitors outside.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” I stammered. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Just a friendly call.” The toothpick waggled. “You going to invite me in or leave me standing here?”

“Oh sure.” I took a step back. “I, we don't get many visitors.”

Bobby reached for a chair and swung it underneath him. He settled onto it, his forearms on the back, watching me expectantly. I went to stand against the sink, with my arms folded over my chest, wondering what this was all about.

“We?” he smirked. “You live here by yourself. Or so I've been hearing.”

“I meant my dog and me,” I said. “And there's my Aunt Irene who comes up quite a bit. I never know when. She's always surprising me.”

He nodded, as if he knew better. No one spoke for a few moments.

“Do you know Michael Pacey?” I asked, my voice
sounding loud in the empty house.

“Don't think so.”

“He comes by on his motorcycle sometimes.”

“Boyfriend, is he?” The toothpick travelled over his pink tongue to the other side of his mouth.

“No. He's my friend's brother. One of many brothers. He's going to university in September. I just got back from their place, actually.” I was babbling. “The Paceys', I mean.”

For the first time, Bobby took his eyes off me and looked around at my humble kitchen. “And you're doing okay here, all by yourself?”

“Yes, thanks.” Why did he care? “But as I said, I'm hardly ever by myself.”

“Except now.” He stood up and swung the chair out from between his legs. I began to sidle down the counter, hoping to lead him back to the door. There was something unpleasant and sinister about this visit.

“Mind if I have a drink of water?” he asked, his tone insolent.

“Of course. Not at all.” I fumbled for a glass in the cupboard. He had already turned on the tap. He reached for the glass at the same instant as I shoved it towards him. Our fingers touched, and I jumped as if I'd been burned.

Bobby filled the glass and swallowed slowly. I watched his Adam's apple move up and down in his throat, and he watched me over the bottom of the glass. His pale eyes frightened me. Did he drop by uninvited on the rest of the staff? I'm sure he did with Gloria. My pulse pounded in my ears.

With a growl of satisfaction, Bobby set the glass down. “Thanks.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and dropped the toothpick into the pocket of his pink sports shirt. “Okay, I'll be shoving off now.”

Relieved, I led him across the kitchen, ready to scold myself for thinking he was anything but friendly.

Just as we reached the door, he made a quick move and kicked it shut, and with a hand on either side, pinned me to it. I tried to duck under his arms, and he moved in closer, chuckling softly. “What's the matter? Just a kiss is all I want,” he said, his breath in my face. “I think you know what a doll you are.”

I twisted my head away. Ernie had come to the other side of the door and was sniffing noisily along its bottom edge, sensing trouble.

“Leave me alone!” I spat, struggling. “You're engaged!”

“Come on. Karen and I have an arrangement.”

“Some arrangement!”

He brought his arms in closer, his face against my neck. I felt the blond stubble above his lip. “Hey. What's a kiss?”

“Please,” I begged. I hoped I didn't sound as defenceless as I felt. I was terrified of him. I could smell the sweat on him. Or was it my fear I smelled?

“You need your job, don't you?” he murmured.

Instantly, I stopped fighting him and forced my head back a fraction to stare into his face, unbelieving.

“Well? Come on, Libby. Be smart. With my help you can keep it.”

Suddenly I was very strong. “I don't need your help!” I got both my arms up from my sides and pushed hard
against his chest. “Mr. Forth hired me. Not you!”

He dropped his arms, laughing cruelly. “That drunken old bum? He does what I tell him.”

“I'd like you to get out!” My voice was shaking, but there was iron in it. “Right now!”

“So, okay. I'm leaving.” He opened the back door. “I hope you won't regret this, Libby.” His lip curled as he spoke over his shoulder. “Shoulda been nicer to me.”

“And you better watch the dog on your way out!” I shouted at his back. Ernie looked up at us in bewilderment. Were we friends or not?

I yanked the dog inside and slammed the door. Then I raced through to the front, locking it as well. The car backed out onto the road and peeled off, gravel flying.

I collapsed onto the horsehair settee at the foot of the stairs, trembling uncontrollably. Did that really happen? It was like a bad dream. But my neck still felt damp from his breath. I played back every word either of us had said, every move we'd made.

And while I sat there, something came back to me. Something that, until now, had been hidden in my memory. The part that had been missing from the events on the day that Alex and I had walked all the way home from the sorter. On the drive up there earlier, I had seen, out of the corner of my eye, Eddie Hackett lay a hand on my mother's thigh. Even before it had really registered with me, Alex had abruptly knocked the hand away.