Nelson DeMille - Spencerville

"I was having fun in basic infantry training." He added, "I stood in long pay phone lines on Saturday nights to call you. You weren't in."

"I sure was. But I wasn't going to answer it." She added, "Pride and stubbornness are sins, and we paid for them."

"We did."

"Jealousy is also a sin. I'm not jealous, but... you know I called you from the Elks Lodge. I just wanted to hear your voice that night. But you weren't in."

"I went to the high school and shot some baskets, then got home around nine, took a very cold shower, and went to bed."

"Good. Did you dream about me?"

"Probably. I know that the first thing on my mind every morning is you."

"Me, too."

They got to the edge of the trees where the stream widened and flowed into the big pond. They climbed the bank and looked out over the grassland and water. There were other cars parked near Annie's now, and a few bicycles lay in the tall grass.

Keith watched a few kids floating on a big rubber raft and saw two older men fishing. Two mothers with toddlers were playing with toy boats at the water's edge.

It was a placid pond with a mirrored surface, but now and then a small fish broke the water, sending out concentric ripples. Dragonflies hovered over the water and cattails swayed in the breeze. There was a clump of pond lilies near the shore whose sweet roots could be cooked and eaten, and Keith wondered if kids knew about that anymore.

Reeves Pond didn't look much different than Keith remembered it on any warm Saturday thirty years before, except that there used to be a lot more kids; the organized-activity generation, maybe the last of the Huckleberry Finn-type kids who cooked lily root and chewed smartweed, and fished with bamboo poles and used old inner tubes for floats, and annoyed small animals and adults with slingshots, and got around on iron bikes that weighed more than they did.

Annie asked, "What are you smiling about?"

"I was just remembering that the guys used to skinny-dip here on hot summer nights. We smoked cigarettes, drank beer, and talked about girls."

"I know. We used to lie in the high grass up there and watch."

"You did not."

She laughed. "We did. Twice. We couldn't see too much, but we all said we did."

"Why didn't you join us?"

"We probably should have. One night we were going to steal your clothes, but we got chicken."

"Well, I'll tell you what — some summer night you and I will come back here and go skinny-dipping."

"It's a date."

They stood quietly awhile, not wanting this time to end. She said, "This is probably the last weekend of warm weather."

"Yes, I can smell a touch of autumn."

"Me, too."

They watched the people around the pond, then Keith said, "You know Pastor Wilkes at St. James, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I spoke to him the night of the meeting at St. James."

"How is he?"

"Old, But still in there pitching."

"What's he pitching?"

"Sliders and curves."

"Meaning?"

"He advised me not to covet my neighbor's wife."

"Did he? Well, if he means Mrs. Jenkins or Mrs. Muller, that's very good advice. But I guess he was referring to me. How embarrassing."

"He likes you. He didn't seem to be judgmental toward me, but he advised me to wait until you get a divorce. Then I can covet."

"He really said that?"

"He did. He's an old romantic underneath it all."

She thought about this, then said, "I didn't think you'd go to anyone, not even a pastor, for advice."

"As a matter of fact, I didn't. He broached the subject."

"You mean he knew about... how would he know?.."

"From your pastor, the Reverend Schenk. I'm only telling you this in case you thought about going to Pastor Schenk for advice or absolution, or something."

"I... I have discussed my marriage with him." She hesitated, then said, "To be honest, I spoke to him about you."

"Did you? Did you tell him you had sexual fantasies about me?"

"Certainly not." She laughed. "Not in so many words."

"Well, if you speak to him again, he'll tell you what Wilkes told me — get a divorce and, meantime, do not commit adultery."

"A little late for that."

"Also, these things do get around."

She nodded. "I'm friends with Pastor Schenk's wife, Marge... what else did Pastor Wilkes tell you?"

"I can't say, but with all their good intentions, they know too much."

"I'll be careful." She looked at him and said, "One week from today, Keith."

"One week from today."

She sat down on the ground and untangled her panty hose. "Can you dry me off?"

He knelt beside her and dried her feet with his shirttail and helped her put her panty hose and shoes on. He said, "Where're your underwear?"

"Lost 'em." She put out her hand, and he pulled her up. She said, "Good Lord, look at me... I'm covered with leaves, my clothes are dirty..." She laughed. "Looks like I just had sex in the woods." She brushed herself off and smiled. "Do you think I should go home before I go grocery shopping? Hello, Mrs. Smith, yes I did have sex in the woods, as a matter of fact. A tall stranger on horseback. How are the carrots today?"

Keith smiled. "You're having fun, aren't you?"

"Yes. And I know what you're thinking — what's it going to be like when there's no more danger and excitement of illicit sex. Well, this is fun, but I'm frightened, truly frightened. I just want to be safe, with you, and twenty years from now, when you walk into the room, my heart will still skip a beat."

"I believe that."

"You should, or you're doing the wrong thing. I'm leaving here no matter what, Keith, and I'd like your help. But you don't have to make any promises. Get me out of here, then you can do what you want. I mean that."

"No, you don't..." He looked at her. "Well... maybe you do. But that's not the program. This is real simple — I came back to be with you."

"What if I was three hundred pounds?"

"I would have walked past you on the sidewalk, if I could get around you. Stop giving me a hard time."

"Did anyone write to you about me?"

"Yes, a few people. My mother especially. She kept track of your weight."

"She's been gone five years."

"Is this a test?"

"No, just things I promised myself I'd say to you."

"Is that it?"

"That's it. You're hooked. Do you have a plan?"

"No, but the simpler, the better. What's he usually do on Saturdays?"

"Saturday is good. He always spends Saturdays with his friends, either at the lodge on Grey Lake, or Lake Michigan, or Lake Erie. They boat, they fish, they shoot in season. Bird season just started."

"What if it rains?"

"They go anyway. They usually play cards someplace — most of them have places in Michigan."

"Okay. Just pack the bare essentials, and we'll meet someplace. I'll drive us to Toledo Airport, and we're gone."

"All right... I'll go to my sister Terry's house. Any Spencerville police cars in Chatham County don't belong there, and they'll be easy to spot."

"Good plan."

"Do you mind meeting me at my sister's house?"

"No. We used to get along. I'd like to see her again and thank her for forwarding twenty years of mail to you. I sent her a card every Christmas."

"I know. You're sweet, and she likes you. She used to cover for me in high school when you and I were where we weren't supposed to be."

"I remember." He thought a moment, then asked, "Will she be all right with this?"

"She hates Cliff. No, she despises Cliff. So does her husband." Annie added, "Obviously, she knows we weren't sending recipes for twenty years."

"You two never discussed this strange correspondence?"

"Of course not. Well, maybe once in awhile." Annie smiled. "God, every time a letter came from you, she'd get excited and phone me right away. We had a code, just in case. She'd say, 'I just got a mailorder catalog I'd like you to see.' Then we'd arrange to meet at her place, or in Spencerville, or halfway at Louise's. I'd give her a letter to mail to you from her post office — I never trusted the people at the Spencerville post office. They gossip."