Sidney Sheldon - A Stranger in the Mirror

Each day, after Josephine finished work, they were together. Josephine had had to fight men off from the time she was fourteen, for there was a sexuality about her that was a challenge. Men were always pawing and grabbing at her, trying to squeeze her breasts or shove their hands up her skirt, thinking that that was the way to excite her, not knowing how much it repelled her.

David Kenyon was different. He would occasionally put his arm around her or touch her casually, and Josephine’s whole body would respond. She had never felt this way about anyone before. On the days when she did not see David, she could think of nothing else.

She faced the fact that she was in love with him. As the weeks went by, and they spent more and more time together, Josephine realized that the miracle had happened. David was in love with her.

He discussed his problems with her, and his difficulties with his family. “Mother wants me to take over the businesses,” David told her, “but I’m not sure that’s how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

The Kenyon interests included, besides oil wells and refineries, one of the largest cattle ranches in the Southwest, a chain of hotels, some banks and a large insurance company.

“Can’t you just tell her no, David?”

David sighed. “You don’t know my mother.”

Josephine had met David’s mother. She was a tiny woman (it seemed impossible that David had come out of that stick figure) who had borne three children. She had been very ill during and after each pregnancy and had had a heart attack following the third delivery. Over the years she repeatedly described her suffering to her children, who grew up with the belief that their mother had deliberately risked death in order to give each of them life. It gave her a powerful hold on her family, which she wielded unsparingly.

“I want to live my own life,” David told Josephine, “but I can’t do anything to hurt Mother. The truth is—Doc Young doesn’t think she’s going to be with us much longer.”

One evening, Josephine told David about her dreams of going to Hollywood and becoming a star. He looked at her and said, quietly, “I won’t let you go.” She could feel her heart beating wildly. Each time they were together, the feeling of intimacy between them grew stronger. Josephine’s background did not mean a damn to David. He did not have an ounce of snobbery in him. It made the incident at the drive-in one night that much more shocking.

It was closing time, and David was parked in his car, waiting for her. Josephine was in the small kitchen with Paco, hurriedly putting away the last of the trays.

“Heavy date, huh?” Paco said.

Josephine smiled. “How did you know?”

“Because you look like Chreestmas. Your pretty face ees all lit up. You tell heem for me he’s one lucky hombre!”

Josephine smiled and said, “I will.” On an impulse, she leaned over and gave Paco a kiss on the cheek. An instant later, she heard the roar of a car engine and then the scream of rubber. She turned in time to see David’s white convertible smash the fender of another car and race away from the drive-in. She stood there, unbelievingly, watching the tail lights disappear into the night.

At three o’clock in the morning, as Josephine lay tossing in bed, she heard a car pull up outside her bedroom. She hurried to the window and looked out. David was sitting behind the wheel. He was very drunk. Quickly, Josephine put on a robe over her nightgown and went outside.

“Get in,” David commanded. Josephine opened the car door and slid in beside him. There was a long, heavy silence. When David finally spoke, his voice was thick, but it was more than the whiskey he had drunk. There was a rage in him, a savage fury that propelled the words out of him like small explosions. “I don’t own you,” David said. “You’re free to do exactly as you please. But as long as you go out with me, I expect you not to kiss any goddamned Mexicans. Y’understand?”

She looked at him, helplessly, then said, “When I kissed Paco, it was because—he said something that made me happy. He’s my friend.”

David took a deep breath, trying to control the emotions that were churning inside him. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told to a living soul.”

Josephine sat there waiting, wondering what was coming next.

“I have an older sister,” David said. “Beth. I—I adore her.”

Josephine had a vague recollection of Beth, a blond, fair-skinned beauty, whom Josephine used to see when she went over to play with Mary Lou. Josephine had been eight when Beth passed away. David must have been about fifteen. “I remember when Beth died,” Josephine said.

David’s next words were a shock. “Beth is alive.”

She stared at him. “But, I—everyone thought—”

“She’s in an insane asylum.” He turned to face her, his voice dead. “She was raped by one of our Mexican gardeners. Beth’s bedroom was across the hall from mine. I heard her screams and I raced into her room. He had ripped off her nightgown and he was on top of her and—” His voice broke with the memory. “I struggled with him until my mother ran in and called the police. They finally arrived and took the man to jail. He committed suicide in his cell that night. But Beth had lost her mind. She’ll never leave that place. Never. I can’t tell you how much I love her, Josie. I miss her so damned much. Ever since that night, I—I—I can’t—stand—”

She placed a hand over his and said, “I’m so sorry, David. I understand. I’m glad you told me.”

In some strange way, the incident served to bring them even closer together. They discussed things they had never talked about before. David smiled when Josephine told him about her mother’s religious fanaticism. “I had an uncle like that once,” he said. “He went off to some monastery in Tibet.”

“I’m going to be twenty-four next month,” David told Josephine one day. “It’s an old family tradition that the Kenyon men marry by the time they’re twenty-four,” and her heart leaped within her.

The following evening, David had tickets for a play at the Globe Theatre. When he came to pick Josephine up, he said, “Let’s forget the play. We’re going to talk about our future.”

The moment Josephine heard the words, she knew that everything she had prayed for was coming true. She could read it in David’s eyes. They were filled with love and wanting.

She said, “Let’s drive out to Dewey Lake.”

She wanted it to be the most romantic proposal ever made, so that one day it would become a tale that she would tell her children, over and over. She wanted to remember every moment of this night.

Dewey Lake was a small body of water about forty miles outside of Odessa. The night was beautiful and star-spangled, with a soft, waxing gibbous moon. The stars danced on the water, and the air was filled with the mysterious sounds of a secret world, a microcosm of the universe, where millions of tiny unseen creatures made love and preyed and were preyed upon and died.

Josephine and David sat in the car, silent, listening to the sounds of the night. Josephine watched him, sitting behind the wheel of the car, his handsome face intense and serious. She had never loved him as much as she loved him at that moment. She wanted to do something wonderful for him, to give him something to let him know how much she cared for him. And suddenly she knew what she was going to do.

“Let’s go for a swim, David,” she said.

“We didn’t bring bathing suits.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He turned to look at her and started to speak, but Josephine was out of the car, running down to the shore of the lake. As she started to undress she could hear him moving behind her. She plunged into the warm water. A moment later David was beside her.