A ruling passion : a novel (77 page)

Well, then, Gus would have to make her sicker. Because the more sick Gus made her, the more quickly she'd come back to Sybille. Who else did she have to come to? It might seem to some people that Lily was

taking the first step toward shifting her allegiance, but Sybille knew better. Lily was waiting for a reason to come home. And that was what Sybille had to arrange. Lily had to be driven back to her arms.

"I think you should see her again," she said smoothly to Gus. "You're absolutely right; she's been lonely and I haven't paid enough attention to her. Anyway, it's time she had a man; she's too innocent to handle half the questions that come in her mail."

Gus stared at her. "You're not serious."

"I'm always serious when I talk about Lily. Go to her house. Make her let you in. She may seem upset, but that won't last, not if you're any good. I know Lily better than she knows herself: she loves to give in to someone stronger. You should have a fine time. And then you come back to me and, if you've earned it, I'll have something for you."

His gaze was fixed on her. "Like what?"

"I was thinking of station manager of KQYO-TV in Los Angeles."

"How would that work?" he asked, scowling. "Why would they hire me?"

"I'd hire you. I bought it a few months ago."

A slow smile spread over Gus's face. He stood and rotated his shoulders, loosening them up. "If you give me the day off, I might drive out to the country. It's kind of romantic out there, around Cul-peper; lots of beauty around, you know."

Lily was lying on a chaise on the patio behind her house when Gus arrived. It was midafternoon, and shimmering waves of heat lapped at her; she felt she was dissolving into the sun. When he stood over her, casting a shadow across her face, she opened her eyes in confusion, thinking a cloud had come up. She could not see his face, only his silhouette, but she knew who it was. "You said you wouldn't call," she said, knowing how foolish that sounded.

"I didn't." He knelt beside her. "Don't be angry with me. I had to talk to you to say I'm sorry. It drove me crazy, you crying in my car; I kept thinking about it and couldn't sleep."

Lily closed her eyes and said nothing. Her breathing was shallow and quick and she was so hot in the sun she thought she would faint.

"Lily, talk to me," Gus begged. "Don't ignore me. You'll make me feel you don't like me. I want your friendship." He paused. "I thought, you know, I didn't need anybody, but you made me feel different about that. I need you, Lily, you caring about me and me caring about you. I want to be good to you, you know, because I don't think people really care about you the way I do. I mean, they love you in their

letters and in church, but they don't care about you, like do you have nice clothes or good food or do you have somebody to keep you warm at night—"

"No!" Lily opened her eyes and found herself looking into his, a few inches away. "Please stop! I can't talk to you!"

"It's okay, don't talk, I'll talk."

"No, I get so confused..." She tried to sit up, but Gus leaned forward suddenly and kissed her. His lips were soft on hers, like the touch of a flower, and she was so surprised she lay stiU, and even when he pressed harder she did not move, because there was still a gentleness in his closed lips that was exacdy what she imagined when she lay hot and twisting in bed, trying not to think about him. They stayed that way for a long time, lips touching, her eyes closed, and then Gus raised his head, and Lily felt cold, even in the hot sun.

"You're so beautiftil," Gus said. "Beautiftil and wonderful and lovable... like an angel..."

Lily put up her arms. She had not planned to do that, but they came up and Gus leaned forward again and her arms went around him. He slipped one hand under her head and kissed her, and this time he opened her lips with his and, very slowly, his tongue invaded her mouth.

Lily tensed, but Gus was holding her head still, and his tongue was sweet, not disgusting as she'd always thought tongues would be; it moved gendy in her mouth, stroking her tongue in a different kind of kiss, not demanding, not forceful, just soft and safe. And as she relaxed under its hypnotic rhythm, Gus's hand accidentally brushed her breast, hesitantly came back to it, and rested on it. He cupped his fingers around it and held it more tightly, and then he was caressing it, rubbing the nipple as it grew hard and upright, teasing it between his fingers. And then his hand moved to her other breast.

Lily was wearing a cotton blouse, but she felt naked. His hand burned into her, turning her to fire; the fire burned between her legs and she pressed her thighs together, trying to hold it in, but she was so open, everything was running out of her; she was open, and waiting.

Gus's hand tightened beneath her head, and his other hand moved away from her breast, down her body, not so slowly now, along her skirt and then under it. He lifted her skirt, baring her legs to the hot sun, while his fingers slid upward, between her tight-pressed thighs, until they reached her heavy, aching center, and without a pause plunged inside.

Lily's eyes flew open. "No!" she cried against Gus's mouth. She felt

as if an iron rod was inside her, moving around, hurting her. "No, stop, I don't —" She twisted her head, to break free of his mouth, but he pressed harder, holding her head. She arched her back, and flung her body wildly from side to side, like a horse trying to throw a rider. "Stop!" The word was a strangled cry beneath the clamp of his mouth. "Let me go!"

That was the moment when he might have stopped, if he had not remembered what Sybille had said. She^s always ready to give in to someone stronger. So he shook his head. Any minute, he thought, she'll give in. She really wanted it; that's what Sybille had meant. "It's all right," he muttered against her mouth. "... all right... all right... all right..." He tore open his pants and shoved them down while holding Lily's head and keeping his mouth fastened on hers. She was still fighting him and he worked his finger harder inside her; how come she didn't know that he was stronger than her?

Lily bit his lip, and tasted his blood. ^'Let me go!"

"Damn bitch—!" he burst out and gripped the back of her neck so she could not move. She was dizzy; circles of blinding color whirled behind her closed eyes; and silently, fiercely, she fought. Just as silendy, Gus held her down. And in that brief time that he waited for her to give in, he lost the moment when he might have stopped. Crazed with the twisting and arching of her slender body, her wet smoothness sucking against his finger, and the sun pounding down on him, on his perspiration-soaked shirt and his bare buttocks, he climbed on top of her, shoving her legs apart, and rammed his swollen, throbbing prick all the way into her.

In the summer stillness of the afternoon, Lily screamed.

Chapter 27

■ m / ybille was asleep when her doorbell rang, and it

V.^_^K^ rang several times before she heard it. The butler

^1 ^K and housekeeper were on vacation, leaving her

^ ^^r alone in the house, and she lay in bed for another

minute, thinking she'd ignore it. It was probably

Bassington; he'd pulled this once before: arrived at midnight for a

quick toss in bed because he hadn't been able to sleep. She shook her

head. Let him ring; she couldn't stand the thought of him.

But the bell kept ringing, a desperate peal that grated on Sybille's nerves, and finally she pulled on a robe and went downstairs. She looked through the library curtains, to glimpse whoever was standing there.

Lily. Wrapped in a long raincoat. On a clear, hot night in July. "Come in," Sybille said, pushing wide the door. Lily walked stiffly into the entrance hall, as if she were in a trance. Her eyes were red and swollen; her mouth was raw. "My God, whafs happened?" Sybille cried. "Lily! What happened?"

"Gus," Lily whispered. And she burst into tears. ^^Gus ? Gus Emery ? He raped you ?"

Lily nodded, once. And dien she crumpled to die floor.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Sybille burst out. Why couldn't people do things the way they were supposed to.> Lily was supposed to have given in, hot and eager. Gus was supposed to arouse her to passion, not beat her up and rape her. It was supposed to be a simple seduction that would send Lily to Sybille for comfort and advice, especially after Gus left town for Los Angeles, deserting her. It was not supposed to be a messy rape with emotions Sybille wasn't prepared to deal with, beginning with tears and fainting. You'd think they were in a silent film from the twenties.

"Lily," Sybille said, kneeling beside her. "I can't carry you; you'll have to walk."

In a moment, Lily stirred. She opened her eyes. "What?" she asked.

Sybille helped her stand, and guided her, passive and stumbling, into the darkened living room. "Give me your coat," she said. Lily shook her head. Sybille shrugged and sat her on one of the sofas. Then she went around the room, turning on all the lamps.

"Too bright," Lily whispered.

Sybille turned off half the lamps and sat on the arm of the sofa. 'What happened?"

"He..." She could not say the word. "He forced me. I fought with him, I really did, Sybille... I just wasn't strong enough. But the worst thing..." She turned her head away. "The worst thing is, just before that... and the other day too... I wanted him to make love to me. I didn't want to when he started... when he put his hand... when I knew..." Her teeth were chattering, and she clenched them shut for a minute and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "But that doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, and what matters is that, earlier, / wanted him to make love to me.^'

"But you didn't," Sybille said.

Lily shook her head. "He didn't even kiss me. Not then."

"Then why are you worrying about it now?"

Lily's mouth opened and closed. She looked at Sybille as if she were a stranger. "You don't understand."

"I'm trying—" Sybille bit off her sharp words. "I want to," she said soothingly. "Lily, I want to help you. You were right to come here; this is where you belong. You'll stay here tonight. You'll stay here as long as you want. You don't have to worry anymore. I'll take care of you."

Lily's shaking eased under the murmur of Sybille's voice. "Could I have a cup of tea?" she asked.

"Oh. Of course. Come to the kitchen, we'll sit there. And you'll tell me what you're thinking. You can tell me, Lily; you can tell me anything. I'll understand. I'll give you everything you need; you don't need anyone else. You never did. I'm the one you need."

"Yes," Lily said. She was so sleepy. She hurt all over, and though she had washed and washed, and taken a bath so hot it turned her skin bright red, and spread ointment on her torn flesh, there was still a terrible burning between her legs, like a scream, and she thought she could still feel the oozing he had left behind, and the trickling of her blood. She felt dirty and anonymous, as if she were a piece of merchandise that a store clerk had torn from its wrappings and then tossed on a shelf, for everyone to see.

"Tell me what happened," Sybille said. They sat at a long table in the kitchen, across from each other, waiting for the water to boil. "He came to your house .>"

Lily closed her eyes. "I can't... not yet."

"Tell me," Sybille said urgendy. She leaned forward tensely. "I want to hear everything."

"No! I'm sorry, Sybille, I can't. Not tonight. I just want to go to sleep."

"You don't want your tea?"

"Oh. I guess so. And then can I go to sleep?"

"Of course. You can do anything you want. You don't have to do anything at all until Sunday morning. We'll find an old sermon for you to give; no one will notice—"

"Sunday? Sybille, I can't preach Sunday. You wouldn't ask me to."

Sybille's mouth tightened; her eyes were flat. She had enough to worry about without Lily having a tantrum. The teakettle screeched, and she jumped up and went to the stove. "We won't talk about it tonight." She brought Lily a cup of tea. "How long was he there?"

Lily stared at the tendrils of steam rising from the cup. "He left right after..."

"What time was that?"

"I don't know. The sun was shining."

"This afternoon? And you waited until midnight to come to me? Are you sure he left right away? Or did he stay until you got used to him, maybe got to like it, and then you came to me because he left you?"

Lily dropped the cup. It broke into shards, and the steaming tea flowed over the table in a red pool, and onto her lap, darkening her raincoat. She did not notice. She was shaking. She began to strike the

table with her fist, helplessly banging it harder and harder, her hand slipping in the spilled tea, the shards of china bouncing as she struck the wood. 'Tou can't say that, you can't, you can't, you can't. You promised to take care of me, you said you'd understand, you said you were all I need." She struck the table, again and again, unable to stop. 'Tou lied to me!"

^^7 never lieF' Sybille took long steps to the end of the kitchen. Her body felt ungainly, as if she could not completely control it. "Stop acting like an infant! Behave yourself! I can't deal with you if you're hysterical!"

'Tou think I liked it! How could you think that? You don't know anything about me!"

"I know everything about you! Maybe you didn't like it; what difference does it make? When you calm down you'll forget it—it's amazing how much you can forget if you put your mind to it—and then you can concentrate on your preaching. If you'd done that all along, this wouldn't have happened." She came up behind Lily and put her hands on Lily's shoulders. "Listen to me," she said carefully. "I said I'd take care of you; you know that wasn't a lie. Look how many years I've done it, and you've been happy and making other people happy. It's all worked out the way I planned it; you don't want to ruin that, do you? It's been fine for you, Lily; you know that. And it will be again, I promise, but only if you stay close to me. You've got to forget this idea that you can experiment with sex, play around on the side, and then come back to me for—"

'T)on^t say that!" Lily leaped from her chair and ran around the table, keeping it between them. She was still wearing her raincoat, tied tightly around her narrow waist, and she looked small and lost in it, her fragile neck and white pinched face rising from its wide collar, her eyes wide and fearful. "I don't experiment, I don't play around, I'm not even sure what that means. I wanted someone to love me. I thought you did, but you don't... Do you know who you sound like? Him! When he was on his knees, holding my hands and talking... oh, God, oh God..." She gasped as if she were strangling. "I hate it! I hate it and I hate you!"