Forever (19 page)

The door was hard to open. She hadn't realized how seldom she opened it for herself. It creaked slightly on its hinges. ‘I'm sorry, Jim, I …'

Bradley stared down at her.

Her lips parted silently, her eyes widening.

‘Going somewhere?' he asked, a distinct edge to his voice as his eyes flicked from her to the Chevrolet.

‘Nn … no.' She was stammering, blood surging into her cheeks.

His brows rose fractionally.

She had forgotten how tall he was; how broad; how safe he made her feel.

‘I've been out. I must have forgotten to turn the engine off.'

‘It's still only eight-thirty.' His face was grim. There was no laughter in his eyes, no warmth in his voice.

‘Is it? I was up early.'

‘You look as if you've just got out of bed,' he said starkly.

Nervously her hand touched her unbrushed hair. For the first time she became aware that she was shoeless.

‘I …' No more words would come.

‘Aren't you going to invite me in?'

‘I … No …' The pain behind her eyes was blinding. ‘I must go, Bradley. I'm sorry …'

She moved to close the door but a strong hand encircled her wrist, holding her fast.

‘Has it come to this, Gussie? Slamming the door in my face?'

‘No, Bradley. It's just that … that …' She floundered helplessly.

‘Just what, Gussie? That you don't love me any more? Don't even like me!'

A knife entered her heart and twisted vidently. ‘I
do
like you, Bradley. I do …' She choked, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Do what?' he asked savagely. ‘Do love me? Say it, Gussie. I want you to say it!'

She felt as if her wrist would break.

‘No! I don't love you, Bradley! I don't want to see you! Not ever!'

His brows flew together, his rage murderous. ‘I don't believe you, Gussie. What is it with you? Why do you live here all alone? Why are you never seen? Why did Allie run away in the middle of last night?'

She froze, staring up at him like a rabbit at a stoat. ‘Allie? How do you know about Allie?'

‘Christ!' he said explosively. ‘Everyone in the district knows about it by now! She woke the Jefferson household just after midnight. Her mother is cook there. From what Mrs Jefferson says, she was out of her mind with fear. Babbling about black magic, voodoo and spirits from the dead.'

Gussie felt the blood drain from her face. If Jim Meredith heard he would take her away from St Michel by force. Beau would be unable to claim her. She would be locked up in a State institution, tormented by his anguish, by his voice and by his shadow. A fear that was crippling lent her strength.

‘She's a fool. You're all fools. Oh God, why won't you leave me alone?'

Her desperation permeated his rage.

‘Is it so bad, Gussie?' he asked, his voice suddenly tender.

Her eyes were tortured. ‘Please leave me alone,' she whispered. She sagged like a broken doll against the frame of the door, tears coursing down her cheeks.

His voice caught and deepened. ‘I can't leave you alone, Gussie. I love you.'

His face was harsh with concern, abrasive in its masculinity.

‘I'm going to Houston for two nights. I thought you might like the trip.'

Houston: glass and marble skyscrapers. The Astrodome. Hermann Park. Drinks at Cody's on Montrose.

‘No,' she breathed. ‘No …'

‘I'll see you when I get back. I can't take no for an answer, Gussie. I've tried, but I love you too much.'

She stared up at him and froze. When he came back she would no longer be at St Michel. She would be with Beau.

‘Yes,' she lied through parched lips. ‘I'll see you when you get back. Goodbye, Bradley.'

He stood for several seconds staring at the door as she closed it behind her. Despite her tears and her insistence that she be left alone, she had agreed to see him again. Reluctantly he turned on his heel and walked across to his Thunderbird, turning off the Chevrolet's engine and closing its door on the way. There was still hope. It would have to suffice for the next forty-eight hours. Heavy-hearted he drove away and headed west.

Eden left Birmingham, Alabama behind her with relief. She was making good time. Another hour and she would be in Georgia. She had purposely not phoned Mae to tell her she was coming. She didn't want to give Mae the opportunity to slip away. She wondered if Gussie was aware of how near Midsummer's Eve was. She hadn't seemed to be. Days, weeks and months seemed to pass by for Gussie in one long, static moment. Eden lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Yesterday morning she had wanted Leila Jefferson to convince Gussie that she was letting an obsession ruin her life. Now she wanted Leila for a far more urgent reason: to lay the spirit of Beau Clay to rest. She remembered the tension that had emanated from him in life. His brooding magnetism. He had died because Augusta had summoned him to her side. Gussie's image had been on his brain, her name on his lips as his car had been sucked beneath the surface of the swamp. Dear God. Eden crushed out her cigarette and lit another. What chance did they have of deflecting him from his purpose? It was Gussie herself who had said she wanted Beau to love her forever. Gussie, who, in her foolishness had said that forever was not long enough.

She crossed the State Line into Georgia and looked at her watch. The newly-married Mrs Mae Merriweather had better be home. ‘Eden!' Pleasure flooded Mae's plump face, to be quickly followed by anxiety. ‘What is it? Is something the matter? Why didn't you phone?'

‘Get your purse,' Eden commanded, whirling round Mae's luxury home, turning off the radio, the coffee percolator, the sprinkler.

‘But why? Have you gone mad? You must be dying for a drink after that long drive. I have some Chablis …'

‘There's no time for Chablis,' Eden said grimly.

Mae stared at her, stunned. Coming from Eden such a statement was blasphemous.

‘None of your damned family are remotely co-operative. I wanted to get hold of your grandmother and they won't even tell me where the Jefferson house is. I spent all yesterday lost in swamps and marshland.'

Mae stumbled and sat down heavily, her rosy cheeks ashen. ‘It's Gussie, isn't it?'

‘Too damned right, it's Gussie,' Eden said, closing doors and windows. ‘You'd better phone Austin and tell him you'll be away for a couple of nights.'

‘But I can't do that,' Mae began.

Eden whipped round on her, her eyes flaming. ‘You'd better do, Mae Merriweather. Your silly ritual has already taken one life. I'm not going to let it take Gussie's!'

‘I don't know what you mean,' Mae whispered, taking the telephone as Eden thrust it into her hand.

‘It's killed Beau Clay and it's killing Gussie, daily – by inches.'

Mae gasped for breath. ‘Beau's death was an accident.'

Eden stood over her, frightening in her intensity. ‘An accident caused because he was racing to Gussie's side. He died only seconds after we left St Michel. You know that Mae. You've known it all along. You knew he was driving towards New Orleans at such a suicidal speed because Gussie had summoned him. How, only God and your grandmother know, and perhaps even God has been left in the dark.'

Mae shrunk back against the cushions on the sofa. ‘Don't say such things, Eden. Don't! Don't!'

‘Phone Austin,' Eden ordered.

Reluctantly Mae did as she was bid. ‘… dreadfully sorry, darling. My grandmother's ill. I'll be back in a couple of days.… I love you too …'

Mae's voice was tear-filled enough to convince Austin that her grandmother was on the point of death. As she made her stumbling excuses Eden grabbed rolls and biscuits. There would be no time to stop on the return trip and she couldn't remember when she had last eaten.

‘I'm not an hysteric. If I say I saw him, I saw him,' Eden said as they headed south.

Mae moaned and hugged her arms. ‘Why did we ever do it, Eden? I knew something awful would happen.'

‘No, you didn't. You were going to do it yourself. You were going to bind Bradley Hampton to you forever.'

‘Oh God,' Mae's teeth chattered uncontroiably. ‘It was only a joke …'

‘It isn't a joke now.'

‘No.'

They lapsed into silence, hardly speaking until Birmingham was in sight. Eden left the highway for a service station and filled the tank.

‘I'm going to make a couple of phone calls.'

‘Who to?'

‘Bradley Hampton and Dr Meredith.'

Five minutes later she was back in the Cadillac, her face grim.

‘We're on our own, Mae Merriweather, whether we like it or not. Bradley is in Houston and Jim Meredith has taken his wife to Fort Lauderdale.'

‘There won't be time,' Mae said unhappily as the signposts for Meridian, Mississippi flashed by them. ‘It's near dark now and the plantation is impossible to find at night. It's surrounded by swamps and forests.'

Eden didn't argue with her. She knew very well the kind of country that surrounded the Jefferson plantation.

‘As long as we're both with her, it won't matter,' she said, wishing she could sound more confident. ‘Besides, I don't think anything will happen tonight.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because tonight isn't Midsummer's Eve. Tomorrow night is.'

‘Oh God!'
May gasped again and began to cry.

‘Bradley came this morning,' Gussie said with unnerving calm as Eden and Mae sprawled exhaustedly on the sofas. She paused as she poured a drink. ‘I could have been happy married to Bradley.'

Eden demolished a tuna sandwich and drained a glass of ice-cold Chablis. ‘Sleeping pills,' she said, handing Gussie a couple. ‘Mae and I don't need them. Not after the day we've had. But you do. We'll see Mae's grandmother tomorrow. All three of us will go together.'

She expected a protest from Gussie and was surprised when none came. Gussie swallowed them calmly, her composure disconcerting.

‘I never realized before how
big
this house is,' Mae said as a moth fluttered against the window pane of the twenty-roomed colonial mansion.

‘Don't you get awful lonely, Gussie?'

‘No,' Gussie said, her hair gleaming pale-gold in the lamplight. ‘I'm never alone, Mae. Beau is with me. Always.'

‘Stop talking like that!' Eden said sharply.

Gussie's eyes were bleak. ‘Why? It's the truth, Eden. You know. You've seen him.'

‘We need to get to bed and to sleep,' Eden said tersely, regarding sleep as a short cut to morning. ‘I'll sleep on the sofa in your room, Gussie. Mae can sleep …'

‘I'm not sleeping on my own! I'll sleep on the floor with you two, but I'm not sleeping on my own!'

Pillows and duvets from other rooms were gathered together and laid on the floor and sofa in Gussie's bedroom. Mae was talking about Austin, calming down after her near-hysteria. Eden watched them, a frown creasing her forehead. Gussie was unnaturally quiet; resigned almost. The only time her eyes had not been expressionless had been when she'd mentioned Bradley's name. Remembering the lamp that had burned in the window for Beau the previous evening, Eden insisted that they slept in darkness. Mae was reluctant and kept fear at bay by chattering about Austin; about the new house; about how they wanted a baby straight away; about how happy she was. Hearing Gussie's polite responses, Eden felt a measure of relief. She had been right to bring Mae back with her. Right to insist they all spent the night at St Michel. Against her will, her lids closed and she drifted off to sleep.

‘So Austin said …' Mae continued drowsily. ‘… Austin thought …'

In the darkness Gussie waited. It was sweet of Eden to go to such lengths to save her from her own fate. She had not even minded when Eden had returned from Atlanta with Mae. She had known that their presence would make little difference.

‘Augusta.'
Her name floated gently over the sleeping bodies of her friends.

‘Augusta.'

Slowly she slipped out of the bed and stepped over Mae. With sure fingers she lit the oil lamp that was a Lafayette legacy and placed it on the table near the window. In the flickering light the eyes of her dolls gleamed. She touched them fondly, rearranging a skirt here, an arm there. Then she crossed to the dressing table and began to brush her hair in long, rhythmic strokes.

Attracted by the light, moths beat frantically on the window pane. Eden turned in her sleep and sighed. Gussie lay down her silver-backed hairbrush and walked softly to the door, opening it and letting the lamplight illuminate the darkness beyond.

‘Soon,' she whispered, her heart beating so fast she could hardly breathe. ‘Soon, dear love.'

She crossed to the wardrobe, searching through the dresses with trembling hands. Her fingers touched lace and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Her wedding dress. That was what Beau had been waiting for. He had been wanting her to meet him as a bride.
His
bride, not Bradley Hampton's. She paused, light-headed, unable to think clearly.

Bradley? Did she love Bradley too? She tried to conjure up his face but at the effort the blood pounded in her ears. Beau's image swam before her, an amber flame burning deep in his eyes. The lines of his mouth were hard and savage and jealous.

‘Beau!' she called out helplessly. ‘Oh Beau! Beau!'

It was like being poised on the edge of eternity. She felt dizzy, sick with fear and longing. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead as she slipped the lace over her head and shoulders, smoothing down the bodice, the underskirts rustling as the lace settled over them.

‘I'm ready, Beau!'
Her heart began to slam in heavy, thick strokes. The blood coursed through her veins so hotly that she felt she was on fire.