THIRTEEN

When Kirby called, two days later, Peggy evaded him no longer. “Drop by here about ten o’clock Sunday.”

“It’s a date,” he said happily.

As soon as she hung up, Peggy had regrets. What was she trying to prove?

But in spite of herself, when Sunday arrived, she enjoyed the expedition with him.

He picked her up at camp, drove her directly to a back section of his widowed aunt’s property. Leaving the car, they started walking across an untilled open field. Peggy became lost in a world of green pasture and blue sky.

Pausing under a lone apple tree, Peggy could feel Kirby’s eyes on her. She knew she looked especially attractive in her pink flowered skirt and touch-of-pink blouse cut to show off as much of her golden tan as possible. Her light hair, held back by a pink ribbon, fell to her shoulders. The breeze gracefully teased both skirt and hair.

She felt wondrously carefree.

“Come here,” Kirby said, falling to the ground under the trees and pulling her down next to him. “Tell me about yourself. You’re such a stranger. All I know about you is the way you look—and slap.”

She told him where she was from, where she was going to school, what she was studying. “And that’s about the story of my life,” she finished. “What about you?”

“Taking my Master’s at State. Psychology—just like you. I’ll finish next June.”

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure. I hope to get my doctorate.”

Peggy laughed. “And I thought you were a simple farm boy!”

“Well, I am. I come here summers to help out Aunt Lelia.”

Peggy covertly studied the lad next to her. He was slouched against the tree, chewing on a blade of grass. His brown eyes roamed the green and gold fields, resting occasionally on Peggy. She found him easy to talk to—much more interested in listening, apparently, than in impressing her with his own words. He seemed so relaxed in her company that it made her feel relaxed, too. They began to walk again, after a while, drinking in the beauty of the day.

Suddenly Kirby said, “Hey, you must be starving!” He looked at his watch. “Let’s drive to town and feed our faces.”

The day wore on—pleasantly, soothingly.

* * *

Peggy got back to camp a few minutes before the evening meal.

She hurried to the lounge, looking for Beth.

“Hi. How did it go?” Beth asked as Peggy walked in.

She sat down next to the nurse. “As you said, he’s nice. One of the nicest fellows I’ve ever dated.”

Beth nodded, a glimmer of a smile in her eyes.

“That reminds me,” she said. “Ted telephoned today.”

“What did he have to say?”

“I don’t know. Mike talked to him. Sorry you missed his call?”

“Are you kidding?” Her thoughts reverted to Kirby. “You know, you were right, Beth. I do have to get out and meet people.”

“There’s mess call,” Beth said, rising as the notes of the bugle reached them. “Let’s go in and eat.”

At the table, remembering Ted’s phone call, Peggy wondered if he were contemplating another visit. If so, maybe he had mentioned it to Mike. She glanced around, hoping to catch Mike’s eye. But the redhead was not at her regular seat. Night off probably, Peggy thought.

She did not run into Mike until the following evening in the lounge. But just as she approached the girl, the telephone rang.

Mike jumped from her chair. “I’ll get it!” She bounded to the wall box. Seconds later, a doleful look on her face, she held out the receiver. “For you, Peg.”

“I’d have called sooner,” she heard Kirby say, “but I never know when I can get you during the day. Peggy, I can’t wait to see you again.”

Peggy did not answer. What should she do? Encourage him? After all, her heart lay elsewhere.

“When will it be, Peggy?”

She hesitated. Then, feeling like a traitor, she said, “My next day off. I’ll call you.”

After the kids had been put to sleep in the cabin, Peggy rushed down to the Pillbox. She found Beth in her room, making coffee.

“I was expecting you,” Beth said.

“Oh, Beth—I’ve gone and done it. I promised Kirby I would see him again.”

“That’s what I want you to do.”

“But—honestly, Beth, I feel as if I’m cheating on you. Are you sure you won’t mind?”

“Of course not. Kirby is worth knowing.”

Peggy kissed the nurse on the cheek. “You’re an angel,” she said. “Why are you so good to me?”

“I like to see you happy.”

Is that what love is, Peggy wondered—the unselfish desire to see a loved one happy? If so, and if she desired as much for Beth, why had she accepted another date with a man? Despite Beth’s denials, Peggy was sure the nurse was inwardly bitter about it.

But if it were not love she felt for Beth, Peggy asked herself, what was it?

Hell, that’s silly, she thought. I love Beth. No question about it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be risking everything to lie in her arms.

“Problems?” Beth asked, noting Peggy’s expression.

“Tell me the truth, Beth. The honest truth. Doesn’t it bother you to know I’m going out with somebody else?”

Beth sank into a chair. “To be honest, certainly it does. But it’s the right thing for you to do.” Beth’s lids masked her eyes.

Peggy sank to her knees before the chair, looked into Beth’s face.

I do love her, Peggy assured herself. I love everything about her. She ran a fingertip across Beth’s thigh.

“Beth,” she said. “Does a person always know when he—or she—is in love?”

Beth’s eyes fluttered open. “Not necessarily. Why?”

“No reason,” Peggy murmured, closing in on the nurse.

* * *

During that next date with Kirby, while riding back from town, Peggy asked the troublesome question. What is love? He admitted that he could not answer, and looked at her strangely.

That was the only uncomfortable moment of the day. He did not make a pass at her. But they laughed and joked and talked of many things—and Kirby revealed what to Peggy were astonishing depths of profundity, refreshing attitudes. Peggy’s respect for him had grown enormously by the time he returned her to camp, just after nine o’clock.

Before leaving the car, Peggy raised the question of love once again.

“Do you think enjoying sex with someone means that you love the person? I don’t mean just raw passion. I mean something—” she thought of her days and nights with Beth—“something good and—well, beautiful.”

“Not necessarily,” Kirby said. “Sometimes a thing is beautiful because we want it to be.”

“You mean it’s all in the mind?” Peggy was echoing Beth’s words.

“You could say that. Of course, very often a person uses sex as a substitute.”

“A substitute for what?”

“A lot of things—love, affection, the need to be needed. People sometimes try to find these things through sex.”

Kirby had cut his lights. Peggy stared through the windshield at the rising moon.

“Will you be able to get to your cabin without a flashlight?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. I could find it with my eyes shut.”

She waited, out of politeness. She expected him to try and kiss her good night.

But he made no move.

“So long, Kirby,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful day.” With that, she stepped from the car. She picked her way across the parking lot, found the path to the hill.

At the turn-off to the Pillbox, however, she saw ahead of her the familiar figure in white.

“I thought you’d be along soon,” Beth said. She took the girl’s arm, led her toward the infirmary. “Have a nice time?”

“Very.”

“I’m glad. What kept you so late?”

“We were talking,” Peggy said. Rather reluctantly, she followed the nurse into her room.

“Sit down,” Beth said. “I could hardly wait until you got back. Thank heaven, we have the whole night ahead of us.” Beth kicked off her shoes. “Would you like something, dear? Tea?”

“Not right now.”

“I have a bottle of Scotch, you know.” Beth slipped off her stockings, stepped out of her uniform. “But I don’t think we should drink in camp, do you?” Beth loosened her bra.

Peggy forced her eyes away, glanced at her watch. “I think I’d better go, Beth. It’s getting late, and—”

“But you’re on leave until morning!” Beth sat down on the bed. “Aren’t you happy to be here with me?”

Peggy could not understand her mixed emotions. She forced herself to smile. “Of course I’m happy.” She walked to the bed, let her hand drop to the soft brown hair.

“Let’s lie in bed and talk a while,” Beth said eagerly.

“All right.” Peggy began undressing. What had come over her, anyway? Had being with Kirby affected her? Had his words given her doubts? Standing in her filmy underthings, she hesitated. At the moment she wished that she could escape.

“Let me,” Beth said. Deftly she loosened Peggy’s bra.

Peggy could not help the tremor that passed through her body, as she felt her heavy breasts touched.

Now Beth’s hands were on her hips, rolling down the silky half-slip.

Peggy turned her nakedness toward the nurse. “Beth, usually you accept me only under protest. You try to argue me out of it. Why are you different tonight? You’re eager. You lead the way—”

“Darling, I’m afraid I’ve changed. You’ve made me need you. Oh, I fought it, and I told you to fight it—but it was a losing battle, I guess. Peggy, you’re so lovely. You’re so fresh and clean and thrilling—” She held out her hands. “Come to bed with me.”

They embraced, warm nakedness against warm nakedness.

“Yes,” Peggy choked out. “Let’s go to bed.”

But even as her hands roamed the treasures of Beth’s body, as they passed over curves and swells and plumbed secret depths, a part of Peggy was elsewhere.

Oh, she heard Beth crooning, she could feel the heat and sense the passion alive in the nurse; yet it was as though Peggy were an onlooker, a nonparticipant in the emotions she had aroused.

She had learned the intimate nerves of Beth—the places where a touch makes a woman squirm and moan and cry out for more. And diligently, if automatically, Peggy tried to please—kissing, teasing, probing, rocketing the nurse into space, higher, higher still, until with a cry of ecstasy, Beth reached the ultimate heavens.

Peggy held Beth in her arms. She could feel the beat of the woman’s heart. She kissed the soft, sweet-smelling hair. Beth sighed, inched closer to Peggy.

At last Peggy noted Beth’s even breathing and hoped the nurse would fall asleep. Peggy closed her own eyes.

Then her lids shot open. There was a hand on her breast. She covered it with her own, stopping its slow caress.

“What’s wrong?” Beth asked.

“I’m just tired.”

Beth burrowed closer still. “You’re never too tired for this.”

“Beth, I—”

“Here’s something that will wake you up.”

Peggy shuddered as the nurse’s hands passed over her.

“You like this?”

“No—yes ... Beth, please!”

“Please what? This?”

“No.”

“How about this?”

“You’re torturing me,” Peggy moaned.

Beth laughed. “And you like it.”

Peggy squirmed under her touch.

“Don’t you like it, Peggy?”

Dumbly, the girl nodded.

“You like this...?”

Peggy’s blood began to boil.

“And this...?”

Her thighs quivered.

“I know everything you like. You like—”

Peggy gasped.

“Enough?”

“Yes.”

“Sure?” Her hands continued to move.

Peggy’s head was getting light.

“Do you want more?”

Peggy convulsed.

“Here?”

“Oh!”

Beth was relentless.

The room began to spin; the room and the bed and Peggy and Beth. Peggy clutched the nurse, held on for dear life as she soared on the wings of blissful agony. And then everything exploded into a hundred thousand pieces ... whirled like a celestial kaleidoscope ... and slowly fell back into place.

Peggy rested her head on Beth’s breast, struggled to catch her breath. Beth’s hands stroked her soothingly.

As she drifted off to sleep, words seeped into Peggy’s brain. It’s all in your mind ... sex is a substitute ... something is beautiful because you want it to be....

* * *

Several evenings later, Peggy sat by herself on a wooden bench on the lodge porch. Beyond the circle of the ceiling lamp, black night stretched bleakly; no moon, no stars. Kirby had been over a couple of times to walk with her when she had had time off. But this night Peggy wanted to be alone. She had thinking to do.

What she had to blame herself for, she realized, was not so much that she had fallen in love with another woman, had for better or worse slipped into a degraded way of life. After all, that concerned only Beth and herself. And maybe there were excuses for it.

But there was no excuse for having neglected to ferret out the twisted degenerate who had coerced Beth in the bathhouse—who perhaps had doped Peggy and certainly had ravished her. A person capable of such behavior was capable of anything, it seemed to Peggy. Such a person could violate other counselors, even the children. That person had to be identified, ejected from the camp.

Peggy did not blame Beth for refusing to name the person. She knew that in retaliation, the unknown one could expose Beth, destroy her and perhaps others. More important, the reputation of the camp would be ruined. What parent would ever send a daughter there?

Nevertheless, Peggy resolved to concentrate thereafter on running down the menace. After that, she would figure out some way of dealing with it. Peggy frowned. Once again, in her mind, she ran over the possibilities.

Lilian? Hardly likely. She was too unabashed about showing her own body, too frankly curious concerning the other girl’s bodies, as Peggy could testify. It seemed to her that a lesbian would disguise such interest, would be on her guard about it, although it was perfectly natural among girls at a camp.

What about Dorothy and little Ruth? As the summer had worn on, these two had been seen more and more in each other’s company. They took their days off and their nights off together. They thought nothing of being seen walking with arms about each other’s waists. Occasionally they even shared the same cot. Then there was Dorothy’s constant talk about men. That could be disguise, of course....

And speaking of disguises, what of the masquerade? Dorothy had come dressed as a man. The children had been delighted. Dorothy had been obliged to dance with each of the senior girls—but after the dancing, she had gone strolling with Ruth.

Peggy sighed. She had seen many such crushes among girls, at camp, at school. They did not necessarily mean a thing.

But Mike—she was another matter. Peggy lit a cigarette and thought carefully. Mike had that husky voice, the kind difficult to overhear if she had been the girl in the bathhouse. Peggy made up her mind to resume her former camaraderie with Mike, get her talking, try to find out where—

Peggy heard footsteps.

Speak of the devil!

Mike was walking up the stairs, dressed in yellow skirt and blouse, low-heeled sandals, earrings. Peggy was amazed at the transfiguration the outfit made in the girl. The yellow certainly did things for Mike’s bronze tan. She looked amazingly girlish and pretty.

“Hi, stranger,” Peggy said with a smile. “Big occasion?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Mike said uneasily. “Day off. See you, Peg.” And she rushed in, bound for the lounge.

Peggy scowled. Mike had been disappearing from camp quite a lot, lately. Where did she go? And with whom? She never spoke of her adventures. Why the secret life?

Peggy checked her watch. Close to ten. Restless, she rose and started for the lakeside. She could not resist the moonbeams glowing across the water.

She went only as far as the gate. There she stood long minutes, watching the ripples leave the spotlight and move to shore. Then she turned and began the trek up the hill to her bunk.

Camp was so different at night, she thought. So quiet—serene, actually. Peggy dragged her feet, hating the idea of crawling into bed, wishing she could spend all night wandering the dark, peaceful hills.

In the distance an owl hooted. Peggy shook off a mischievous impulse to answer him. Branches rustled as she hit a bush. Then she heard leaves somewhere nearby. A squirrel, she thought. Or maybe a chipmunk. She swept her light up the path.

She stopped sharply, startled by a figure flashing just ahead of the light beam then disappearing into the trees.

Peggy ran to the spot where the figure had dashed across the path. Were the kids up to something?

Cautiously, Peggy left the path, pushed her way among the trees. Brush crackled. She scanned the foliage with her light but saw nothing.

Then ahead of her a twig snapped. She heard an unladylike curse and scrunching leaves.

Peggy moved stealthily, circling the area with her flashlight. She saw nothing but rocks and tree trunks and fallen leaves and twigs and—

She held her light steady, focused about twenty feet in front of her on a crouching form.

Peggy moved closer.

The girl, rubbing her ankle, looked up.

Alice Hart!

Peggy hurried to her. The girl’s eyes, wide with fear, stared up at Peggy. There was a bruise on Alice’s cheekbone. Her disheveled hair hung to her shoulders. Peggy could make out a deep scratch on her neck. She clutched a torn bathrobe about her.

“Leave me alone,” she said, as Peggy approached.

“What happened, Alice?”

“Nothing.” The girl moved her leg and winced at the pain. “I fell down,” she said.

“Before that—what were you doing?”

The girl would not answer. Peggy reached out to help Alice get up.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried in abject terror.

Peggy stepped back. She stared at the youngster hunched there on the damp earth. “Come on, Alice. You’ve got to get out of here.” She reached out once more, put her hand on the girl’s arm.

At her touch, Alice let out a bloodcurdling scream. Peggy jumped back, alarmed.

“Alice,” Peggy whispered, as though to compensate for the girl’s noise, “you’ll wake up the whole camp.”

Peggy looked around for a limb to serve as a cane. She found one hanging from a low branch, suspended by only a few fibers. She broke it off with a resounding crack.

Returning to Alice, whose eyes followed her every move, Peggy held out the limb.

“Here,” Peggy said softly. “This will help you walk.”

The girl’s eyes moved to the branch.

“Come on,” Peggy told her.

“No,” the girl said in a frozen tone, her eyes riveted on the stick in Peggy’s hand. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone ... leave me alone ... leave me alone ...” she repeated, voice shrilling into a hysterical singsong. Then with a last wild shriek she tore her eyes from the limb, buried her head in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Peggy swung the branch to her shoulder, and moved one step toward the girl.

“What’s going on here?” a voice boomed behind them.

Peggy whirled to face Pam, taking the blinding beam of a flashlight full in her face.