Conceived Without Sin (42 page)

He heard Bunny Macpherson laugh with Bucky behind him. Buzz swayed with the music.

He's had to have taken lessons,
Ellie thought mistakenly. He was a better dancer than Sam, who had taken lessons as a boy.

She tightened her grip on his hand, letting him whirl and sway more purposefully. She loved to dance. She loved to waltz. Here was an opportunity, she realized.
And on such a lovely night!

"You see," Ellie said to him. "You're a marvelous dancer. The secret is not letting me lead. Use your natural strength.
Waltz with your back and your shoulders, not your legs. Hold your elbow straight like this. See?"

He saw. He slipped his hand onto the small of her back, held his shoulders square–
Like shooting a basketball!
he thought, elated–and instantly felt the control he had over her. It was a rush.

With just a bit of pressure here and there, her whole body went where he willed it.

Ellie was almost as tall
as he was. They were perfectly matched. She loved being moved so effortlessly. During a turn, she instinctively released a small breath of joy as she threw her head back and to the side ever so slightly, her eyes closed.

"Keep going, Buzz. You're a natural!"

Cool,
Buzz thought wildly, his head beginning to spin with the music and the moment and the sound of her sweet words. Even her voice had
a dulcet quality that complemented her beauty.

It's no wonder Sam's in love with you. You're–intoxicating.

Better take it easy, Buzz,
his conscience piped in.

Not quite sure if he was ignoring or listening to it, he looked around the room until he noticed an outdoor balcony a few feet from the dance floor.
I bet those doors are unlocked.

"Wouldn't it be cool to dance on that balcony?" he suggested
with his own easy charm…

Sam rose to his feet, walked to Donna, then offered her his hand. She took it. He saw Ellie and Buzz walking toward the balcony. Buzz opened the door.

Great idea, Buzz! The weather is perfect!

Everyone was dancing now. Edward was waltzing with Jennifer Towey. Their technique was perfect.

Sam led Donna by the hand to the balcony, where Buzz and Ellie had resumed dancing.

"Hey big guy!" Buzz called over.

Ellie looked at Sam, smiling, and Buzz couldn't help but steal a closer look at her while she turned her head; he admired the perfect skin on her cheek, and the round curve of her jaw, the silky blond hair pulled back over her ears–

Cut it out!
he told himself.

Sam smiled back, his big, toothiest grin.

"Do you know how to waltz?" Donna asked him.

"Yes."

"Good. My
daddy taught me. He's a trained dancer."

Sam and Donna began to dance, the quartet's music easily drifting past them to the fairways, putting greens, and sculpted stands of trees below them. There was a carved, wooden overhang above the balcony.

While parents and college friends danced indoors, the two sets of friends danced wordlessly for several minutes.

The quartet began another piece, the
Waltz of the Flowers by Tchaikovsky.

They did not switch partners. Ellie was relishing her waltz with Buzz too much to want it to end. She was aware that he was admiring her, and she was enjoying that too, taking a kind of innocent delight in her own beauty.

I'm getting married tomorrow,
she thought over and over,
and the world is all right!

Buzz truly was a naturally gifted dancer. She deplored
being forced to dance with men who let her lead. Sam? He was okay. She loved him for other reasons. But this, this was different. This was a kind of living art. A rare pleasure that seemed to fit the singular nature of the occasion…

Just a step away, Sam found himself locking his eyes on Donna's. She was also very good at waltzing, and had always looked him directly in the eyes.

They held each
other with their hands. They held each other with their eyes. The music held them both.

And Sam, not ready for what was about to happen to him, saw Donna's soul behind her eyes for the first time.

You love me,
he finally understood perfectly.

The words fell into his mind in a dream-like fashion, forming as if one word.

You love me completely.
There were many ways to formulate the one word. It
was just
there,
a single rose blooming in a snow-covered field.
Donna loves Sam.

There was a seductive rightness to this word. It begged for closure, for complementarity. Unrequited, it seemed half its own self.

It was a rose, a magnet, a love, a flame: a word.

This word, this freshly observed love, had its own vector, its own power of movement. It was a spinning ball heading inexorably toward
an iron ring.

He could not deny its existence, its heat, its fragrance. Letting the word guide him, he pulled her closer, vainly trying to grasp the word, feeling for the first time an urge and a stirring that was both exciting and terrifying.

Not at all aware of what he was reading in her soul, Donna was trying to savor her first, and perhaps last, dance with Samuel Fisk. She was aware that she
might never have another chance to look so intimately into his eyes.

It surprised her momentarily when he pulled her closer. But she was not used to the ways and whims of formal places like the Garden Club. She assumed his gesture was one of friendship. Besides, he had not held her since the night on the beach, when she had been spooked in the upstairs apartment.

He might never hold me again.

She was saying good-bye.

I used to love you, dear Sam,
she told herself, resting her head on his chest, closing her eyes.
Before I found a greater love.

Their dance had slowed to a simple sway.

Another word fought to take root in Sam's heart. He was keenly aware of this other word, in a far-away place inside, on the very edge of his consciousness. He could deny this other word. He could refuse
to speak it. He had the power to delete it like a word on a computer screen.

Ellen, his morning bride, was dancing not five feet away from him, but she might as well have been on the other side of the earth.

A dark evil, concealed as subtly as a spider in the recesses of a rose, sprung to prompt him.

Say your own word,
Sam, it whispered innocently.
Donna loves you! Speak your own word in reply.
Be a man!

He desired to speak this false word, to submit to its power, not realizing that the source of this word might be a mind that was not his own, a mind bent upon his destruction. He wondered what it would sound like on his lips, this other word, which
seemed
so lovely, and
appeared
so beautiful, and
sounded
so, perhaps, practical.

His curiosity fooled him. His practical nature ensnared
him. The music lulled him. And an evil thing, not Donna, seduced him.

And I love you, too, Donna,
he spoke the false word in his heart. Swish.

He closed his embrace into a tighter circle around her, his mouth resting near her ear.

Now say it out loud,
a spidery voice, still musical and soothing, urged him.

2

Ellie looked away from Buzz, and saw Donna resting her head on Sam's chest. She looked
back to Buzz, who saw a flash of concern in her eyes. She knew she had not been able to camouflage it quickly enough for him.

What's the matter?
he thought instantly.

Buzz looked at Donna and Sam. There was something odd about the way Sam was holding her, just standing there, not even swaying to the music.

Buzz snapped to reality with a jolt.

"Ellie, I'm thirsty," he said coarsely, throwing her
the first words he found.

"But the song has just begun," she protested as if following a script.

He knew he should make a scripted reply.
She needs to go, to leave.

Buzz Woodward had just fallen in love with Ellen James, and like an awkward knight from another millennium, he was willing to die for her.

He stood still, looking directly into her eyes, trying to read her, no longer distracted by
her outward beauty, desperately wondering how to respond to his newfound, altruistic love, overwhelmed with concern for the only thing that seemed to matter right now: her very soul.

She waited, a confused, horrible fear in her eyes.

He prayed beyond words, and grace answered him beyond time.

Cut it down. Cut it down. Whatever it is that's got a hold on Sam:
Cut it down.

But first things first.

He took his hand out of her hand, and removed his other hand from its place behind her back. There was a stillness.

The world kept moving around them.

"I know," he found his voice. "But I'm really thirsty. Let's get a drink."

"Okay," she replied with false casualness, refusing to let herself look at Sam again.

Buzz offered her his arm.

"We're getting a drink," Buzz called over to Sam, slicing into
the disturbing reverie.

Sam looked up, and looked at Ellie. There was hurt in her eyes behind the false smile she gave him. He saw it clearly.

Everything was so clear now.

I don't even know you, Ellie,
Sam thought.
Have I been walking around in a daze my whole life?

Buzz and Ellie walked away, past the band, to the bar.

+  +  +

Sam turned to Donna. She stepped back, feeling as if she had just
woken up from a sound sleep.

"Sam, what is it? You look like you just saw a ghost?"

Sam opened and closed his mouth. He looked down at his shoes, and then up, over her shoulder.

"I think I'm marrying the wrong woman tomorrow."

Air left her lungs with one breath.

"What are you saying, Sam?"

"I said I think I'm marrying the wrong woman. I think–no, that's the wrong word, I know, that I love you.
I should be marrying you instead."

His words sank in.

She took another step back, a look of horror on her face, her mouth open. He reached out. She pulled her hand away.

"Don't leave me," he heard himself saying.

Donna Beck, her jaw tight, stumbled backwards, then ran from him. She slowed as she walked by the quartet, then picked up her pace as she hurried by the bar.

Buzz watched her just as
she went by; he noticed the distress on her face. He looked back to the balcony. Sam was standing there, uncertainty in his posture.

"Go talk to Donna," Buzz ordered Ellie.

"But–"

"Just go talk to her. Something's wrong."

Buzz left her at the bar, and walked purposefully to the balcony.

Please, God, don't let it be what I think it might be. Sam! I could kill you!

+  +  +

Her high heels sunk to
the soles in the thick, wet sod as Ellie walked to the gazebo on the grounds beyond the parking lot. A clump of trees formed a barrier between it and the road. She found Donna, weeping, leaning against a pillar. It was not as warm here as on the balcony. A fluorescent fixture filled the gazebo with a dull light, making the frilly white posts and railings seem bluish.

"Don't talk to me! Leave me
alone," Donna told her, burying her head in her arm, ashamed of her tears.

"What is it? What happened! Why are you so upset?" Ellie said, putting an arm around Donna. "Come, sit down. Here."

Ellie handed her a napkin that she had mindlessly brought from the bar. It was crumpled and slightly damp from being in her sweaty palm.

They sat together on a white bench in the gazebo. The crickets were
loud. Donna blew her nose.

Get a hold of yourself!
Donna ordered.
Now!

"What is it?" Ellie persisted. "Did Sam say something that hurt you?"

Donna realized that Ellie did not know what Sam had said.

A nasty little voice whispered in Donna's ear:
You can crush Ellie. You can have Sam. This is your chance.

No!
Donna responded. She shook her head.

"Where's Buzz?" Donna asked.

"He's talking to Sam."

+  +  +

"Buzz, you have to help me," Sam pleaded.

"Help you? What's going on? What did you say to Donna?"

Sam turned away and walked to the balcony's ledge. Buzz followed him, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"I told Donna that I was in love with her," Sam said, looking out at the shadowy greens.

Buzz soaked in the meaning of Sam's words.

"It happened so suddenly," Sam explained. "It
seemed so right. She was in my arms. It felt so right. I realized that I'm marrying the wrong woman tomorrow. Everything is so clear."

Buzz finally found his voice. "You don't know what you're saying."

Sam turned to Buzz. "Yes I do. This is my life we're talking about here. Marriage is a big deal. I love Donna. That's what my dreams meant. Marrying Ellie is like shooting into the wrong basket."

The certainty in Sam's voice slammed Buzz with a force equal to the meaning of his words.

"Wait," Buzz said. He dropped to the floor and began to do push-ups.

"Buzz!"

"Shut up!" Buzz ordered. He stopped at five push-ups, and jumped back up.

"Well?" Sam asked, looking back to the room. No one was watching them. Everyone was still dancing.

"That didn't help," Buzz said, as much to himself as to Sam.

They turned to face the grey trees and dark fields.

"Do you know what this will do to Ellie?" Buzz asked.

"I haven't thought that far ahead," Sam said.

Buzz grabbed Sam's arm and turned him. "I'm gonna pop you, Sam Fisk! You better
start
thinking that far ahead because a lot of hearts are hanging in the balance, my friend, including mine."

"What do you mean by that?" Sam asked.

"You can't call
off the wedding, and that's that," Buzz said, ignoring the question. "You just can't."

"Why not? You would. You're not afraid of breaking conventions. It's crystal clear to me that I can't marry Ellie if I love Donna. And I know Donna loves me."