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‘Maybe we’d better talk about something else,’ Katie suggested.

‘I know what,’ Mary laughed. ‘Tell us about your home in Ohio. Did you really live on a farm?’

‘And feed the pigs and all that?’ Eloise asked.

‘Who me?’ Katie laughed. ‘I don’t know how that rumour got started. Admittedly Humbersville is a small town, but not a farm town. Steel mills is what we raise. And my family lived in the best part of town. Dad’s photo studio was a gold mine. Gould I have another piece of that pie?’

‘Want ice cream on top of it?’

‘I—’ Whatever she had planned to say was blasted out of her mind. Harry banged his way through the kitchen and out of the back door with a tool box in his hand. The heavy door swung shut behind him with a rattle that shook the back wall of the house, and the screen-door added a postscript. Aunt Grace walked over and peered out the window.

‘He’s going down to the swimming pool,’ she announced. ‘There is hardly enough light out there to see the water. I haven’t seen Harry so mad before in all his life.’

‘Pay him no mind,’ Mary said gleefully. ‘It’s his conscience bothering him.’

‘Well, it’s not on my account,’ Eloise commented. She got up from the table and stretched her voluptuous frame. ‘And me for the high road.’

‘You’re leaving now?’ Katie exclaimed.

‘I told you,’ the other girl responded. ‘I like driving at night. I’m on my way to Atlanta to meet a wedding party. Good luck to you, Katie. Be happy. Thank you, Aunt Grace, for a great deal of hospitality. You all take care of Harry. He’s a whole lot of man.’ She walked out the door. A few minutes later they heard a car start up and drive away.

‘Well, I’ll be horsewoggled!’ Aunt Grace said. There was a dazed expression on her face. ‘She gave up!’ The old lady grinned as she got up from her chair and danced a little jig. ‘And now the field is clear, Katie. Move in for the kill!’

‘Move in for the—what?’

‘Katie, are you sure there are no dim-witted people in your family? Get out there now, soothe him down, make your play!’

‘I—I wish I knew what you were talking about, Aunt Grace.’

‘I’m talking about you and Harry. Harry and you. Whatever way you want to put it. Now’s the time. Strike while the iron is hot! What other clichés are there? Get out there and give in gracefully!’

‘Aunt Grace? You mean that? I should—surrender?’

‘Of course I mean that. Want me to push you out there?’

‘No. No! You don’t know what he wants from me. I do!’

‘Of course I know what he wants. He wants to marry you. Get with it girl, before the moment passes.’

‘Aunt Grace, that’s not what he wants!’

‘Don’t argue with me, girl. Get out there. No, wait. You need to give him a domesticated picture. Where’s that embroidery you’ve been working on? Mary, be a dear and go get Katie’s sewing bag.’

‘But I—I can hardly embroider in the daylight, never mind pitch darkness!’

‘It’s only a prop. You can tear it all out tomorrow. Ah, here it is. Now, out with you!’

She was still in a state of panic when she found herself outside on the patio, the kitchen door closed behind her, and nothing in front but the single light at the poolside, against which ten million insects were already hurling themselves in glee. She shrank down in the wheelchair, wishing with all her heart that some miracle might come to pass and relieve her of all this—commitment. But God, in His infinite wisdom, did nothing. Katie straightened up, and began to manoeuvre the chair in the general direction of the pool.

Twice her canvas sewing bag slipped to the ground, and she had to stop to retrieve it. Her moistened palms kept slipping on the wheels, as she used unaccustomed muscles to move the chair over the grass. At least I won’t drive
this
chair into the water, she told herself. Eventually she crossed the terrain, and came up behind him. He was working on some electrical connection in the box on one of the light poles. Just by looking at his back she could tell he was still angry. He held himself stiffly, with squared shoulders. If he turns around, she whispered to herself, he’ll be Torquemada! I just know it. There will be a stake, and a condemnation, and an
auto-da-fe.
And that will be the end of Katie Russel. Should I speak? Or maybe cough? Better not! Instead she set the handbrake on her chair, watched his busy fingers for a moment, then delved into her bag for the big red burgundy tablecloth she had been embroidering for sister Margarita’s wedding.

She hardly remembered where she had stopped with the tablecloth, it had been so long ago. Although there was plenty of thread, all the needles seemed to have disappeared. Keeping her eyes on his busy back she fumbled in the depths of the bag.

‘Damn!’ she muttered when she found the first needle. Point upwards, of course. She sucked at the blood leaking from the top of her forefinger, and wished mightily that she were in Humbersville, Ohio—or Norman, Oklahoma, for that matter. Anywhere—else.

From the little hut built near the corner of the pool she heard a small motor grind and grind, and then start up with an enthusiastic roar. At which point the man in front of her stood up straight, and slowly turned around. ‘Domestic scene, right from the script?’ he enquired casually.

‘I—well—yes.’ She ducked her head, and vainly tried to thread the needle.

‘For crying out loud,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Didn’t they even teach you how to thread the needle?’ He relieved her of both needle and thread, and in three spare movements ran the thread through the proper hole. ‘Like that,’ he continued, handing it back to her.

She huddled down in her chair, doing her best to disappear and still be in plain sight. He had both hands in his pockets, whistling that damnable tune she still could not identify. In self-protection she picked up one corner of the heavy cloth and began to fill out the pattern.

The thump of the needle as it pulled through the cloth offered some small comfort. She took a deep breath, and worked faster. So he was sarcastic! So he was obnoxious! At least he hadn’t tried to hit her. And that seemed a tremendous improvement over his attitude at the table when, she was sure, he was just about to wind up and whack her one on her—someplace. She pushed the embroidery needle at high speed, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He went back to the electrical box, checked something, and came back to her, carrying a folding chair with him. He set it up just beside her, and sat down. For several minutes there was only the chuffing of the motor, and the thump of the embroidery needle.

‘Christmas present?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she replied cautiously. ‘Wedding present.’

‘For somebody I know? Marion?’

‘No. Margarita, my other sister.’

‘What’s the wedding date?’

‘December 15th.’

‘You think you’re going to make it on time?’

‘No—I—I guess not.’

He lifted up the burgundy cloth and scanned it carefully. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he chuckled. ‘You’ve got almost three months, and it’s almost two-thirds done.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes? Yes, but no? What’s the catch?’

‘Oh, why do you have to be so darn perfect!’ she muttered at him. ‘I know it won’t be on time. The wedding date was December 15th, two years ago! I sent them a picture of it, and promised I’d finish it—some day. I procrastinate a lot.’

‘Ah. This whole thing begins to smell like a stage manager is in the wings. Well?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed.

‘You and the Old Witch. The conspiracy?’

‘Yes,’ she sighed. She secured the needle in the corner of the pattern and carefully folded it all up. Putting it back in the sewing bag, she set the container on the concrete apron and folded her hands.

‘You’re not too—angry?’ she asked.

‘Not too,’ he responded. ‘It was a pretty stupid plot, after all. Nice out here at night, isn’t it? All those thunderheads are sticking to the valley.’

‘Mmm. Nice,’ she said. ‘What’s the motor doing?’

‘Pumping out the swimming pool. It was almost time to do it anyway, but when your chair went into the pool, all the acid in those batteries leaked out. It’s too diluted to hurt anybody, but we wouldn’t want to swim in it. When I get the pool pumped out I’ll get your motorised chair back, and see what we can do with it.’

‘I feel like a fool, causing you all this trouble. I’ve been nothing but trouble to you since I arrived. I think I’d better go home?’ She had meant it to be a statement, but it came out a question, and ended as a plea. She shifted in her chair to look at him, but the floodlight was at the wrong angle, and he was cast in shadows.

‘I don’t think so,’ he replied, after a brief silence.

She gave a little sigh of contentment, and settled back in her chair. They were both staring straight ahead, watching the level of the water in the pool slowly drop. From the distant valley she heard the wail of a doublediesel locomotive. When the echo died out, the light, sweet song of a nightingale followed.

‘Eloise—’ she started to say, and then stopped. He turned and looked at her. ‘Eloise is gone,’ she whispered.

‘Yes,’ he returned. ‘Shall I tell you about her now?’

‘You don’t have to, Harry,’ she hurried to say.

‘I’m glad I don’t have to,’ he answered, ‘but I will anyway. I told you that she started out as a sharecropper’s daughter. Here in the south, that’s what’s known as being dirt poor. She fought her way up near the top in a dog-eat-dog profession, but it was obvious that she could never hang on. So she opted for marriage. She became engaged to a dear friend of mine, who unfortunately was killed racing cars. Before he died, my friend asked me to take care of Eloise. She was there when I promised. Somehow or another she decided that I had promised to marry her. She really came apart at the seams, and worked up a fixation on me. But marriage was never in the cards for us. I introduced her to an old schoolmate of mine, a fellow who’s made a buck in textiles down in Georgia. But Eloise had no confidence. She felt that she needn’t commit herself to anything, because I would always be there. So, she fumbled around for almost a year, and then you came along—and spoiled everything for her. I finally had to tell her point-blank that I couldn’t play her game any longer. So she squeezed up her courage, called Giles, and she’s gone off to marry him. Satisfied?’

‘Oh yes,’ she answered happily. Oh yes, indeed! Good luck, Eloise. Be happy. Have a ball, and six kids. Or none, if that’s what you want. Bless your marriage—as long as it isn’t to Harry!

‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing—nothing much. I thought I ought to get Eloise a wedding present. A very expensive wedding present!’

‘Ah!’

‘You do think that—that Eloise and Giles—they’ll be—happy? You would want your old school friend to be happy, wouldn’t you?’

‘Don’t be a romantic, Katie. I said Giles and I went to school together, not that we were friends. They’re two of a kind, that pair. They deserve each other!’

‘Oh! What a cruel thing to say!’

‘Come off it, Katie. Whatever did Eloise do for you that was nice?’

‘She went away?’

‘And that’s enough small talk,’ he muttered. He snatched her up out of the chair and settled her on his lap. She nestled herself against the wool of his light sweater, squirming to get as close as possible. His chin came down on top of her head. One of his arms was round her back, with his huge hand firmly set against her ribs, just below the swell of her tiny breast. The other hand dropped to her lap, and imprisoned her free hand. Her other was cuddled up between them, hard against his throbbing heart. She waited, almost holding her breath, for something else to happen. Nothing did.

Oh well, she told herself, I’m here! It’s a wonderful place to be. Even if nothing else ever happens, I’m here for a time, just where I want to be. I wonder what Mama would say? Or Grandmother? I’ve got him just where he wants me! I wonder if he wants me here, or just wants me? Our children are bound to have red hair. Bound to!

‘It’s a lovely old place,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘And I’m the last of the Kings. I wonder what will happen to it all?’

‘You’re bound to have children,’ she suggested hopefully.

‘I’m not too sure,’ he returned softly. ‘I’m not really the marrying kind.’

‘Oh? What kind are you?’

‘Love ’em and leave ’em,’ he chuckled. ‘Or at least that’s my track record so far. You’re very soft, Katie.’ One of his hands had slipped into the gap between her blouse and her skirt, and was wandering over the smoothness of her stomach. She stopped breathing.

‘Oh me,’ he snorted. ‘So much for my weather predictions. Here comes the rain!’ He jumped up and transferred her back to the wheelchair, then piloted her speedily towards the house. They barely made it to the kitchen. They were travelling so fast that the screen door slammed into the side of Katie’s cast, and when they were finally safe and dry she looked down at it.

‘Harry,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m coming to pieces. I mean, my cast is coming to pieces!’ He squatted down beside the chair and ran a finger over the edge of the cast.

‘Plaster of Paris,’ he announced. ‘When you got it wet in the pool the whole thing started to disintegrate. We’ll have to take you down to the hospital tomorrow and have the People Mechanic do something about it.’

‘I think I’m bad luck,’ she said soberly. ‘Everything I touch seems to turn to—marmalade.’

‘Don’t let it worry you,’ he offered. ‘We have to go to Johnson City tomorrow anyway. The girls are going off to the World’s Fair. We’ll drive them to the airport, then stop by the hospital and get an overhaul, or something. But that’s an early start. I’ll get Mary to help you to bed, Katie, and we will take up this discussion at a later date.’

At a later date! She mulled that one over in her mind as Mary helped her out of her clothes, and into a nightgown. As she brushed her hair, she considered. Eubie was no longer a problem, at least not for her. Poor Amanda. Eloise had eliminated herself from the competition. Poor Eloise. Somehow or another she pictured a great big score-board, in some baseball park she had known. In big flashing numbers it read, ‘Harry King 2, Women 0.’
But I’m not a marrying man.
And with that one phrase he had eliminated Katie Russel from the competition, too. Poor Katie Russel! An uninvited tear streamed down her cheek.