LaVyrle Spencer - Spring Fancy

Her climax was devastating. His, awesome. And when their spent bodies lay tangled and sated, they understood perfectly what they had accomplished. And what they had not.

His voice, when at last he spoke, was thick with contrition, muffled in the collar of her blouse, which hung half on, half off her body.

"Oh, God, Winn, I'm sorry."

"I am, too."

"Why did I do that when I love you?"

"Why did I? I'm just as guilty as you are."

"I'll never do it again, I swear, not in anger."

Was he crying? My God, was he crying? "Shh!" she soothed. His skull was damp as she wove her fingertips into his hair. "Shh." His arms tightened about her proprietarily. He lifted his head and spoke in a racked whisper.

"Did I hurt you, Winn?"

"No. I'm fine. A little messed, but fine." He rolled his shoulders back and groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut and catching a hand in his hair.

She attempted to lighten his burden and make him smile. "Did I hurt you?"

He gave a single mirthless huff of laughter and slowly eased himself off her, tugged up his jeans, lifted her legs across his lap and sat behind the wheel again. He crossed his arms on it, then lowered his head.

She withdrew her feet from his lap, arranged her clothing and threaded the fingers of both hands through her hair with an enormous sigh. He sat slumped over without moving.

"Joseph, I have to go in now."

His head lifted slowly. His eyes looked tormented. "I'll call you if and when I get myself freed from other commitments."

He sat silent and unmoving as black water. She leaned across the seat and placed her lips lightly on his, touched his chin and begged, "Don't blame yourself. It was both of us."

He swallowed. The sound was loud in the bleak silence.

"Goodbye, Joseph."

When she slipped away, he lurched, as if coming awake from a dream to find her truly escaping.

"Winn, wait!"

But the door slammed, and he watched her run to the house as fast as she could.

During the following three days Winn learned things about crying she'd never known before. By Tuesday night she thought it might very well be possible to cry oneself to death. Sunday was spent alternately sobbing and drying up, running for the Kleenex box, then for ice cubes to soothe her stinging eyes. To make mailers worse, Paul called, asking, "Where were you all day yesterday and last night?" And Winn was forced to make up a lie. To make matters additionally worse, Joseph called, too, ignoring her order to stay out of touch. His message was that he loved her and was despicably miserable and wanted to see her again. Though she managed to stave him off, she was deluged with fresh tears after she hung up.

Monday, with Merry gone from the hospital, Winn's gloom continued, camouflaged behind the cheeriness she forced for the benefit of the other patients. Monday night Paul called to say he missed her and would be home Wednesday at 4:00 P.M., and could she pick him up at the airport. She almost expected the ring that came just after nine. This time Joseph cursed at her, then apologized profusely, then called her Killer in the most heart-wrenchingly sweet voice she'd ever heard. "Hey, Killer… I love you, you know." Once more she cried herself to sleep.

At six-thirty the next morning Joseph called again. "Dammit, I didn't sleep a wink again last night! You are going to kill me yet, woman! Please tell me you aren't going to marry him."

Judas priest, what a wonderful way to start the day-crying again! She made it through eight hours at the hospital and returned to her town house exhausted, but had barely flopped to her back in the middle of the living-room floor when the phone pealed, and it was her realtor, asking if she could leave the house around seven so he could show it. To a couple who'd seen it before-a hopeful sign, he finished. With a sigh she told the realtor where she could be reached, but just as she was leaving the house, Joseph called again.

"Joseph, I can't talk. I've got to get out of the house so the realtor can show it. And this is a good prospect, too, 'cause it's the second time this party is looking at it."

He sounded desperate. "Winn, don't you dare sell that house!"

She squeezed her forehead in an effort to stop the tears that immediately began stinging. "Joseph, I have to go."

"Winn, please, I love y-" he was barking into the phone when she tenderly hung it up. She drove to her mother's house because she couldn't think of anywhere else to go where the realtor could reach her.

Before she was two steps inside her mother's kitchen, Fern Gardner demanded, "What in the world is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"With eyes like those… who are you trying to fool?" Fern took a grip on her daughter's chin and inspected at close range. "You look awful, dear."

"Thank you, mother," Winn replied sarcastically. A knowing glint came into Fern's eyes. "Ah, you miss Paul, is that it?"

It was all Winn could do to keep from ruefully laughing. During the following hour, while Fern rambled on about how smoothly all the wedding preparations were going, Winn gritted her teeth and clamped her jaw. There were times when she wanted to scream at her mother to shut up. Finally she escaped to the bathroom, just to get away from the constant wedding prattle for a few minutes. There, locked in, she stared at herself in the mirror. Tell her, you coward, tell her! But the prospect of walking out there and dashing all her mother's bright hopes was daunting, to say the least. What are you waiting for, Gardner? Your R.S.V.P.'s? Winn's stomach hurt. At times she felt light-headed, and often her palms sweated. It struck her that this horrendous misery bore all the same symptoms as love.

Out in the living room the phone rang. "Winn, it's for you!" Fern called.

To Winn's dismay it was the realtor. He'd just received a firm offer on her house.

Winn, don't you dare sell that house! Winn, goddammit, I love you! Panic welled, and all of Winn's symptoms grew spontaneously worse. Stalling for time, she told the realtor she'd have to think about the offer and would get back to him either tonight or tomorrow. "It's a good offer," he reminded her. "I wouldn't wait too long to accept it." Winn hung up and stared at the wall.

"Did someone make an offer?"

"Yes."

Fern threw her hands in the air. "Hallelujah! It's as if fate stepped in just in the nick of time. Darling, I'm so happy for you and Paul."

That did it. The tears burst forth like a geyser, and Winn fell back into an upholstered armchair, covering her face with both hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

Fern couldn't have been more amazed. "Why, Winn, dear, what is it?" She bent to one knee and soothed the back of her daughter's head while the sobs shook Winn's shoulders.

"Oh, m-mother, it's the w-worst thing in the wo-world. It's so awf-awful that when I t-tell you, you're g-going to want to d-die."

Fern's dread billowed. "Are you sick? Is it some health problem or… or-"

Winn shook her head so hard the hair slashed Fern's face. Into her palms she sobbed, "It's wo-worse!"

"What could be worse?"

Winn lifted her streaming eyes and ran the back of one hand under her nose. "I c-can't m-marry Paul, mother. I d-don't love h-him."

Fern looked stricken. She turned as gray as Jo-Jo's funeral truck. Her mouth slacked, and she fell back as if landed a blow in the chest. She pressed a hand to her heart and spoke in a strained reedy voice. "You can't mean that!"

"I do. I mean every word of it." Winn tore out of her chair, heading for the kitchen Kleenex, then turned to find her mother still on her knees on the floor, stunned. "I don't love him, mother. I l-love somebody else." Now that it was out, Winn felt almost exultant.