After Life (14 page)

schools . . .

all of it. Bob says Henry could lose his temper every other minute if

he didn't have good self-control, and you know what stress like that can

do to someone.

Look what it did to poor Kurt Andersen, the man Lee replaced.

What was he like? Jesse pursued.

A very nice man, a distinguished man, loved in the community, but a man

who bottled up his frustrations and let them fester, until one day they

just burst his heart. So, she sang, I think my husband's right--keep

your sense of humor, don't take things too seriously, and always find

the bright side to anything, no matter how discouraging it might seem on

the surface.

And you think that's why Henry Young didn't chastise the boys more or

lose his temper at the game?

Exactly. Don't misunderstand me. Henry's not happy about what

happened, but he'll correct it in his own way and not add on a pound of

gray hair. That's what Bob says, she added.

Jessie was silent. Were they overreacting? Was Tracy right? Maybe she

was doing the wrong thing in urging- no, practically demanding--that Lee

give his notice.

Maybe they hadn't given things a real chance here.

Maybe a lot of what she felt was her own imagination.

When they pulled into the Youngs' driveway, she asked Tracy to describe

the house. Tracy said it was a turn of the century Queen Anne, a

two-story with a steeply-pitched roof. It had bay windows and a full

width porch one story wide and extended along the east wall.

The Youngs have reshingled the roof and put on aluminum siding. All of

the shutters have been replaced as well and Henry has done extensive

landscaping, put in new flower beds and fountains. Next summer he's

putting in a pool just beyond the gazebo.

Sounds very nice, Jessie remarked.

It is and it's located in a very scenic part of Gardner Town. I wish

you could see, she said, and then immediately regretted her words. I

mean That's all right. Describe it to me, Jessie said quickly.

Well, from the front you have an almost unobstructed view of the

Catskills, and in the rear there are acres and acres of rolling hills.

There's a forest filled with hickory and birch on our left.

Aren't there any neighbors?

Not for a half mile on either side. This place was the summer home of

some wealthy New York businessman once. Henry keeps finding wonderful

things hidden in the attic. Ready?

Oh yes.

Tracy got out and helped Jessie. Then they made their way over the

walk, up the steps, and to the front door.

Just before Tracy rapped the brass knocker, however, the door was opened

and Jessie was surprised to hear Marjorie Young greet them exuberantly.

I've been waiting for you two, she said. I thought something might have

happened.

We're not late, Marjorie, Tracy said, laughing.

When you live out here and you're expecting guests, they're always late.

That's because you're so anxious for company. Come in, come in, she

coaxed. Hi, Jessie.

It's so nice to see you again. I've made some of those cakes you love,

Tracy, Marjorie said.

You baked today? Jessie asked incredulously. But I would have thought.

. .

Of course I baked today. Why shouldn't I? Henry has a sweet tooth. I

can give you tea, or--she paused and leaned toward Jessie--we can sample

some of my homemade elderberry wine. Wouldn't you like that?

She squeezed Jessie's hand. Jessie tried to lift hers out of Marjorie's

fingers, for they felt as cold as ice, but Marjorie held on.

I can't wait to show you everything, Jessie, Marjorie said. We've made

quite a few changes, haven't we, Tracy?

Practically rebuilt the place, Tracy agreed.

Well, why not? We can afford it now. Marjorie finished with a short,

light laugh.

Her voice gave Jessie the chills. She remembered this woman; she

remembered her vividly because of the things she had said and how she

had behaved at the Bakers' dinner party. This wasn't any sort of

hysterical reaction to what had almost happened to her. This was

different. She wore the same perfume, her voice was the voice Jesse had

heard, but it was as if . . .

As if there were someone else inside Marjorie Young's body, someone very

different.

There was a sound in Marjorie Young's laughter that not only rang

untrue, but also filled Jessie with a sense that she was in the presence

of someone rather promiscuous.

Her voice was full of abandon. She sounded as if she had been into her

elderberry wine for some time before Tracy and Jessie had arrived, and

Jessie detected its scent on her breath, but there was also something

about the way she rubbed her body up against Jessie that made Jessie

feel very uncomfortable. Never had another woman pressed her breasts so

firmly and fully against her, nor had any woman rubbed her hips this way

as they walked and talked. Marjorie's hands groped a bit, too, her

embrace over Jessie's shoulder slipping down under her arm, the fingers

finding the sides of Jessie's breast as she led her to a seat in the

living room.

Marjorie babbled incessantly from the moment they all entered. She

talked about the weather, the wine, her sweet cakes, and kept repeating

how nice it was that they had come to visit. When Jessie commented on

how comfortable the sofa was and asked about the material, Marjorie went

into a detailed description of her home, going over each and every

valuable piece, speaking about the house as if it were a national

treasure.

Occasionally she would pause to ask Tracy to verify something she had

said.

She isn't exaggerating, not one bit, Tracy remarked at one point. This

vase on the table here must easily be worth--what, two thousand dollars?

If we wanted to sell it, Henry says we could get twenty-five hundred

without a bit of haggling, Marjorie replied, and followed her words with

her thin, high pitched laugh. There was something terribly familiar

about that laugh, Jessie suddenly thought. She tilted her head and

played back her most recent memories . . .

something.

Then it came to her. That was the same laugh she had heard last night,

the laugh in the wind that seemed to fly over the house after she had

heard the digging in the cemetery. Realizing the connection made her

feel as if icicles were dripping down her spine. Were all these strange

events causing her to lose her mind?

You look a bit pale, Marjorie said. A glass of this will warm you up

and put some color back into your face. She took Jessie's hand to wrap

her fingers around a glass filled with the sweetly scented liquid. She

practically brought it to Jessie's lips.

Reluctantly Jessie took a sip. It was richer, thicker in texture than

any wine she could recall. It did taste good, but it felt like she was

swallowing blood. The liquid lingered so long in her mouth and over and

under her tongue. It felt. . . sticky.

There now, aren't we all comfy cozy, Marjorie said. Oh, I'm so happy

you two came to see me, she squealed.

How are you feeling, Marjorie? Jessie asked. Seeing how that had been

their motive for visiting, she didn't see any reason why they had to

pretend nothing had happened or nothing was wrong.

Exhausted, if you want to know the truth, Marjorie said.

Jesse nodded.

I can just imagine, she said.

Oh, can you? Marjorie said, and laughed again. I suppose maybe you

can. It depends on what sort of a lover Lee is.

Lover?

From the moment of silence and the stifled laughs, Jesse sensed Marjorie

and Tracy were smiling at each other.

What in the world does that have to do with any thing? Jessie asked.

It has everything to do with everything, Marjorie replied quickly.

That's why I'm so tired today, she continued. Henry was a beast last

night, an insatiable beast.

I don't understand, Jessie said, smiling with confusion.

Henry is a bit oversexed, Marjorie said, and then laughed again.

Jessie kept her smile of confusion, but said nothing.

It had always been embarrassing for her when other people described

their intimate relationships. She was never one to compare notes, even

when she was going to high school and the girls' room was a conference

hall for sexual discussions. Her friends used to tease her about how

red-faced she would get, and others were always after her, prying away

at her secrets. But she had always felt talking about intimacy was a

kind of betrayal. Love required trust, a dropping of the normal guards,

a revelation of souls. To expose someone who had been that way with you

and share the intimacy with others who would only be titillated and

amused was a kind of treachery, a treachery of the heart. Maybe she was

old-fashioned about it, but that's the way she was and always would be.

Usually, Marjorie continued, her voice filled with an eager excitement,

Henry is one of those slam-barn thank-you-ma'am lovers. You know,

spends himself and then turns over to snore. But not last night. Last

night he was at me like a caveman. He insisted on holding my arms

behind my back and had me pinned down, so I could barely move. Why, it

was as if I were being raped, she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

jessie felt the heat rise into her neck.

Unbelievable, Tracy said. Henry?

Yes, and then, once that was done and I thought it was going to be as

always, I turned over to go to sleep, and wouldn't you know it, in

moments he was at me again, coming at me from behind. He pressed my

face down so hard into the pillow, I almost smothered to death. But,

she added, laughing again, it was wonderful. I think I had seven

orgasms, before he was finally through, groaning and moaning like some

teenage boy.

So, she concluded, you two can understand why I'm a bit tired today. He

was even amorous this morning.

Why, the moment his eyes opened, he- That isn't what I was referring to,

Jessie interrupted sharply. It seemed this carnal tale would never end.

We came here because of your accident, to see how you were doing.

There was a strange moment of silence. Jessie tilted her head and

lifted her ear.

Accident? Marjorie finally said. What in hell is she talking about,

Tracy?

Oh . . . Jessie heard the hesitation in Tracy's voice.

Jessie is just confused, she said quickly. On the way over here I was

telling her about the time you fell off that stepladder and fractured

your ankle. She must have thought it had happened recently.

Oh, Marjorie said. That stupid time. Well, isn't it

true that household accidents are the most common? Do you like the

wine, Jessie?

What? What was going on? Jessie wondered.

The wine, my homemade wine, Marjorie cried. It takes so long to make a

mere quart and I use only the best berries.

Oh, yes. It's very good.

Then why don't you drink it? Marjorie laughed again. Let me get the

sweet cakes. I just took a fresh batch out of the oven and I'm sure

they're cool enough now. I'll be right back. She rose from her seat,

stopped in front of Jessie and took hold of the hand that held the

wineglass, then raised it toward Jessie's lips, just as before. Drink

up, Jessie. There's plenty where this came from, she added, and stood

there until Jessie took another sip. Then she left.

Jessie listened keenly to her footsteps disappearing down the corridor

and then she turned toward Tracy.

What's going on? Why did you say I was confused about her accident? she

demanded. What was all that about falling off a ladder?

Obviously Marjorie's had a lapse of memory, Tracy said quickly. Dr.

Beezly told Henry it' s very common in cases like this. Part of her

mind wants to reject what has happened, refuses to remember. It's sort

of a self-defense mechanism. It won't do us any good to try to remind

her, and it may do her some harm.

But she's acting so strange, so different. Telling us about her sex

life like that and laughing after everything.

Don't you think she's radically different?

Tracy lowered her voice.

Yes, but I think I like her better this way. There's no doom and gloom

in her face and she's not telling us all that weird stuff. She looks