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Chapter 10
"Louise, have you seen my black leather pants?" Carol shouted.
"I thought they were hanging up in your closet," replied Louise.
Carol stalked into the living room where Louise and Guido were watching The Joker's Wild on T.V., clad in only underwear and a black-and-white striped tank top. "I can't find them anywhere. I have starved myself all week so I could fit into them, and now I can't wear them!"
"Why don't you wear the shiny white bellbottoms?" asked Louise helpfully.
"I could wear those, but the black ones look so much better!" insisted Carol.
The two sisters walked back to the bedroom to find the pants. After some searching through dirty clothes piles, they located the pants. "Oh, I'm so glad," Carol gushed. "These are my best concert pants. I shook hands with Steve Tyler while wearing these pants." She pulled them on and pretended to suck in her already emaciated gut, even though the pants were not tight. "These are the only pants I have that don't make me look fat," she commented.
Louise rolled her eyes. "You don't look fat," she moaned. "I look fat!" she grabbed a handful of flesh from her middle and squeezed it.
The two women finished getting Carol ready for the concert and walked out to the living room. "Ready for a great time?" Carol asked Keith and Chuck. Louise and Guido were staying home; Libby and Richard had only been able to get five extra tickets.
The three of them drove to Libby and Jane's apartment. Richard, Carly, Libby and Jane came out immediately, as if they had been waiting by the front door. Jane cheered when she saw them.
"Carol, you're peeling," noticed Libby.
Carol shrugged. "Yeah, I've been really red all week. It doesn't hurt anymore, though." She had large patches of blistered-looking skin curling up all over her back and chest.
"Were you sick? It looks like you could have had sun poisoning," commented Carly.
"No, I was fine," lied Carol. Chuck, mercifully, didn't say anything. He had sat up with her when she had thrown up Saturday night, and rubbed aloe vera lotion on her burning skin. But he could tell that Carol wanted to downplay her illness, so he left her alone.
The Tangerine Bowl was packed with people flooding in for the concert. The group had to drive all around before they found a parking space.
Walking to the stadium, Carol was trying to be civil, she really was. But the way that Libby kept looking at Keith was infuriating! And he was grinning back at her like an idiot. She stumbled along unhappily in her platform shoes, alone. Chuck and his sweet, simple Jane practically skipped down the sidewalk; Richard chatted interestedly with the frizzy-headed, gap-toothed Carly. Carol could not understand it; she had always been the popular girl, surrounded by guys who were interested in her and complimented her often. Now, these men were paying their attention to ugly girls. She decided to get some attention back.
"Richard," she said, interrupting his boring discourse to Carly about military policy, "Can you do anything odd with your body parts?"
Carly looked like she were about to snicker at this question, but Carol ignored her. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Look," she commanded, and pulled her arm up behind her head at an alarming angle, her shoulder popping out sickeningly. "I'm double-jointed," she remarked, waiting for his exclamation of amazement.
"That's cool," he replied. "I can do my knuckle weird." He pulled his thumb to the bottom of the back of his hand, and his knuckle looked like it was unhinged. "Can you do anything, Carly?"
"Well, since I've been taking yoga, I can do all sorts of odd positions. Don't get any pictures in your head," she warned, wagging a finger at him.
Carol thought quickly; the last thing she wanted was for the conversation to turn into a discussion of Carly's contortionist abilities. "I can also flip my tongue around," Carol said quickly. She opened her mouth and turned her tongue upside down first to the left, then to the right. She then made it look like a rose.
"Oh, that's cool!" laughed Carly. "I can only make it look like a 'U'." She demonstrated, pulling the sides of her tongue up.
Richard laughed. "You are both talented," he announced.
They had approached the stadium, and Libby was now looking at the tickets to find their section. They found it, and climbed up the stairs to their seats. When they reached them, Carol asked Libby, "So, do you have backstage passes, too?"
Libby chuckled. "No, I need a little more time to reach that level. Right now they just want me to report on the traffic, what songs the bands played, and how the crowd reacted. Maybe throw in a little about how they looked and sounded, too."
"Mmm-hmm." Carol really couldn't care less about what the article was about; she just wanted to meet some of the musicians, especially Lindsey Buckingham. What a fox.
Before the concert began, Keith stood up. "I'm going to get something to drink. Does anyone else want anything?"
Carol sprung up. "I'll go with you and help you carry them," she offered. They got the drink orders from the others, and headed off to find the concession stand.
"So, are you having a good time, Carol? Excited to be at this concert?"
Carol stared straight ahead as she stalked along the concrete walkway. "You know I love concerts," she said. "Are you excited to be here?"
He grinned. "Yeah. I'm really glad we're all getting along so well. Libby's really cool to share her tickets with us. She went out of her way to get us here." He looked pointedly at Carol when he said "us".
They found a concession stand that had a line of about 15 people already standing in it. Carol sucked up her courage and asked, "So, what is going on with you two? You seem to be getting mighty familiar."
He looked sheepish and happy all at once. His neck started flaming a bit red. "She's a solid girl. There's no question about that. I wouldn't say she's my main squeeze yet or anything, but I'm working on it!"
Carol looked at the ground and kicked her toe against a crushed drink cup, forcing the bottom to flatten against the sides. "What will you do when we have to go back to New York?" She was afraid of the answer, so she said it softly.
He stared at a poster advertising the prices of the snacks. "I haven't decided yet. I mean, we might get such a team built up here that I may just stay."
Carol looked up at him sharply. "What would Warren and Anne say? Have you told Jo yet?"
Keith sighed. "No, I haven't told them. It's so indefinite that it doesn't seem practical to put the bug into their heads." They were now the next customers in line. He looked questioningly at her. "What about you? Do you want to go back?"
Carol's jaw dropped. "Of course! Central Florida is practically the middle of nowhere! I can't believe you don't hate it here. Come on, don't you think it's so... hot?"
It was their turn. Keith stepped up and ordered beers and sodas. While the attendant was filling the cups, Keith said, "Hot. Yeah, it sure is hot here. And there aren't as many people, let alone A-list people. But that's kind of why I like it. It's nice to be around people who are so real."
This was the reason Keith liked that Libby girl? Because she was real? What did that mean? "What do you mean by real, Keith?" Carol asked as he helped the attendant to put the drinks in a cardboard holder.
He looked straight into her eyes. "Not fake."
Carol shifted her weight uncomfortably, and then picked up a holder of drinks, ready to take them back. She waited for him to finish paying. I'm not fake, she thought. I just have high standards, and I like to be where the action is. What's wrong with that? "What, you think living in a small town that wants to be a city, and being overweight, and being mean to other people is real?" She knew it sounded stupid, but she was feeling overwhelmed with hurt.
Keith paused in the middle of the walkway, forcing people to walk around them. "Carol, what are you talking about? I like Libby because she's funny and generous. She doesn't worry about making the right people like her; she just says and does what she wants. I don't mean to compare her to you. You're right; there is no comparison between you two. She has never lived in New York, and if she moved there, she'd probably be eaten alive. She doesn't have the survival skills of the upper class like you do. But when has she ever been mean to you?" He looked really concerned.
Carol thought quickly. She honestly couldn't think of a single time that Libby had been anything but polite to her, even though she herself had been downright rude sometimes. "That's not the point," she asserted. "She's just not your type, Keith. Anne has told me many times how she hopes to have a daughter-in-law she can really get along with. Can you honestly picture your mother bringing Libby to a tea at the Westhampton Country Club? Or to the Children's Leukemia Society Benefit? Admit it, Keith. She wouldn't fit in."
Keith flared his nostrils as he turned to walk toward the seats, sloshing beer on his shirt as he did so. "What does it matter? If I organize a stable team here, I might just stay down here. And who said I'm even thinking that far ahead? If I'm having a good time with Libby, why should you care? Don't you want me to be happy?"
Carol stopped suddenly, at the base of the stairs to go up to their seats. It was all she could do to shout, What about me? Don't you want me to be happy, to be yours? Now all she could feel was idiotic that she had ever brought it up. "Of course," she tried to say nonchalantly. "If she makes you happy, go ahead. Have your fun with her. But remember who your family is, and what you owe them. Just because you're so in love down here in Florida, doesn't mean that you don't have to be seen with the right people back home."
Keith stood on the stairs, facing the wrong direction. He waited for her to brush past him before he turned and followed her to their seats.
He knew she was right. A family like his had to be cautious of who they connected with. His parents had always expected him to date women of their social circle, and he had tried. For a while, he even worried that he was gay because he would get turned off after a few dates. But his parents kept insisting that he keep trying.
His decision to join AmWay had astounded them. He could have been a vice president of any of his father's friends' businesses. But he had wanted to have something that was all his. Chuck's friendship had done more for his confidence than any job could have done. So, when they went to a meeting, and Chuck had gotten excited, he had signed up to sell, too. He ignored his family's disapproval, and set about building up a very successful business of his own. He knew it was corny and pedestrian, but it made him happy.
Libby, on the other hand, drove him crazy. She was an enigma that he had to figure out. How she could be so cute, and sexy, and funny, and everything that he had never known he wanted but couldn't live without... He didn't care that she lived in Florida, and that she worked for a small newspaper. He wanted to get to know her better, and he needed to be around her. It was healing him. She was healing him; she was making him forget how hurt his family had been this past year, and remember how good life could be.
He shook his head and came back into the moment. He walked up to the seats and delivered the drinks to the right people. He was in a daze all through Fleetwood Mac's performance, and the Doobie Brothers' jamming. Except for when Libby squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Then he was better than all right.
Chapter 11
Libby stared at the couple at the next table, who were gazing into each other's eyes and kissing each other across the table. The man's hand continuously caressed her jaw, while she batted her eyelashes and smiled demurely. Neither one of them noticed his elbow in his fettuccine alfredo.
Keith turned and glanced at the couple. "Do you want me to do that?" he joked quietly.
She smirked and looked away, feeling guilty. "Um, no. That sauce would be pretty hard to clean up." He glanced again, saw the man's elbow, and stifled a laugh.
When the waiter had come to clear away their plates, Keith tried again. "Where are we going Friday night?"
Libby smiled evilly and narrowed her eyes. "Won't work, babe," she warned.
He sighed in frustration and thought again of the description she had given him. "OK, I know that I need to wear clothes I don't mind getting dirty, and shoes that are ready for the trash. Are we hiking?"
"Like I said before, no."
"Also, it's something I haven't done in New York."
"Probably not," she reminded him.
"Does it involve my getting hurt?"
"Not unless you slip and fall," she said. The waiter brought Keith the bill. "Look, you probably won't guess. Even if you do, it's going to be a total surprise. Just enjoy it on Friday, and don't worry about it!"
"Just bear in mind that I'm trusting you," he warned.
She smiled again. Keith had taken her out for a real date tonight. Friday, they would be doubling with Chuck and Jane again, but tonight was all for them. Keith had been very sweet, but Libby was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. First, there was the notion that he thought she was wonderful. Not ordinary I-want-to-get-to-know-you-wonderful, but I-think-you're-perfect-wonderful. He laughed at every joke, hung on every word, and simpered into her face. He was acting clingy, and it was bothering her.
Second, she suspected that he was hiding something from her. She knew some things about him, but he was very quiet on the subject of his family. Oddly quiet, even though she had only known him a few weeks. It was as though he was ashamed of them. She knew several people with family problems, and didn't think it was unusual. She knew better than to get involved, though.
Third, he had a lot of upper-class notions. Libby was decidedly middle class, and made it known. She believed that she should work hard and value people for their friendship and accomplishments, while he let her know that his family wanted him to marry a woman with social connections. Even though he seemed intrigued by her lifestyle, she wondered if it was just a fleeting fascination that he would get bored with soon.
She had decided to take him somewhere that his upper class, New York lifestyle would be unaccustomed to. It would be a sort of test of whether he would get upset and stop seeing her, or if he could take the experience in stride and treat it as just an experience.
Their ride home that night was uneventful. They were rather quiet in the car, and when he dropped her off, the kiss was nothing great to speak of. Yet he seemed very happy while he walked back to the car.
The next two days at work, she didn't think about him, except when he called her. She tried to be cheerful and nonchalant, but knew that whether she wanted to see him again depended on Friday night.
Libby and Jane wore cutoff jeans shorts and old T-shirts. Libby's sneakers were ones she'd had for four years, and the right one had a hole over her little toe. Jane's sneakers were in equal disrepair. However, Jane had not caught Libby's apathy toward her love interest; her enthusiasm about Chuck was stronger than it had been when she'd first met him.
"They're going to be so surprised," Jane remarked as they pulled up to Chuck's Winter Park house. "Just wait until they see the buses!"
"Don't say anything until we're there," warned Libby.
They picked up the guys, who looked odd in their old clothes. Carol glared at the outfits as they walked out.
Keith was silent as Jane drove. "OK, we're heading east. What's on the east side of Orlando? Florida Tech?" Chuck inquired.
"We'll pass it," Jane assured him.
They kept driving. They drove east on State Road 50 ("How do you pronounce that road-Chuluota?") and passed many old, run-down buildings ("I've never heard of this town, Bithlo. It sounds like white supremacists and hound dogs") until they came to their destination: the Orlando Speedworld.
The parking lot, though it was just a huge, muddy field, was already almost full, and they had to follow the waving redneck man to a place near the back. "Where in the name of white trash have you brought us?" wondered Keith, climbing out of the car.
The girls laughed and walked toward the rickety stadium, arms around each other's shoulders. "Welcome to Bithlo," stated Libby. Keith and Chuck noticed that she pronounced it Biff- low. "Now this is the real Florida!"
They waded through mucky grass, past many old pick-up trucks and El Caminos, toward the racetrack. They waited in a long line with some very dirty-looking people to go to the stands. It started at 8:00, and it was now just 7:50. They climbed up wooden steps to sit in the bleachers, which had stark holes between the seats and footrests, where they could see the action on the track.
Orlando Speedworld had a football-stadium sized track running around it, with a big "X" in the middle of the field. "That's the figure 8," explained Jane. "That makes for some very exciting races."
"I can't believe we're at something called Crash O-Rama," moaned Keith.
"This is going to be far-out!" exclaimed Chuck.
As it turned out, the guys really enjoyed the demolition derby. Reckless men, who wished they could race real racecars, had fixed up cars from junkyards to race them around this track. There were several bizarre events, including old school bus races and cars that dragged old boats around. Around and around the figure 8 they would go, and when the drivers crashed into other cars, the crowd cheered wildly.
As a car with a rebel flag spray-painted on the top and sides collides with a rusty 1960 Ford Falcon, causing the Ford to spin onto the grass, Keith asked Libby, "Have you come here before?"
"Yeah, my dad used to bring us when we were 13 or 14," she explained. "My mom got so mad when she found out! She didn't want us exposed to this kind of thing." Libby let out a "Yee-haw!" as the Confederate car lost a wheel and continued driving, sparks shooting out behind the dragging metal bumper.
Chuck was kind enough to stand in a long line to get them some drinks and boiled peanuts, a Southern delicacy that the guys had not sampled. He brought them back in a cup. "That's not very many," remarked Keith.
"Yeah, but they're filling," replied Jane, who was splitting open the salty shell and sucking out the mushy peanut.
They threw their shells onto the ground below them. Between car events, Jane and Chuck competed to see who could throw their shell between the cracks of the footrests. The width of the crack was just wide enough for a peanut shell. Keith admitted that they were tasty. "They're mushy, but salty and good," he pronounced them.
Too soon, the demolishing was finished. The grand finale was to line up the worst banged-up cars and set fire to them. It was an exciting, fiery spectacle.
Their walk out to their car was equally muddy and precarious. They joked about how the mats and seats would be filthy, and Jane said she didn't care because they had had such a good time. Driving out, a lot of people leaned out their windows, shouting and hooting and hollering; people were pumped up on cheap fuel, crashes, and beer.
"Let's do something!" shouted Chuck as a truck passed by them with three moons hanging out the back. "Let's go for a walk or get some drinks. I'm feeling cantankerous!"
"Good word, sweetie," praised Jane.
They went to a small, country bar in Bithlo. Jane and Chuck immediately made a beeline for the jukebox and the small dance floor, while Libby and Keith took a seat at a wooden table by the wall. A buxom waitress with tight pants and a big, 1950s hairdo took their drink order.
"So, how'd you like tonight?" Libby asked, taking a swig of beer.
Keith nodded. "It was definitely different," he said cautiously. He smiled very widely at her. "You always surprise me. I don't know any other women who would take me to a demolition derby."
"Yes, they're really cool," gushed Libby. "I mean, you can't hold on to any snobbery or high-falootin' notions while you're there, can you? I bet you feel just as trashy as the guy who drove the 'General Pee', don't you?" He laughed his assent. "And you loved every second of it, didn't you?"
"Libby, I feel as if I could drive a pickup truck, put dip in my lip and have people start calling me Bubba," he remarked.
They were quiet for another minute or two, just sipping their beers. When the music changed, so did Keith's face. He held out his hand. "Do you want to dance?"
Libby took his hand with a smile. "Yes, now would be a good time to dance." They walked out to the floor. He put his right hand on her waist and lightly grasped her hand with his left, and started swaying and circling to the music.
I'll be fine when you're gone,
I'll just cry all night long,
Say it isn't true,
And don't it make my brown eyes blue.
Keith smiled into her eyes and gave her a peck on the forehead.
Tell me no secrets,
Tell me some lies
Give me no reasons,
Give me alibis.
Tell me you love me
And don't let me cry
Say anything but don't say goodbye.*
They were so close now, they were practically embracing. Libby thought Keith would probably kiss her again now, and she pulled back to look into his face. Just as she did, though, Jane tapped her shoulder.
"Janey, what's wrong?"
Jane had tears running down her face. "Sorry to interrupt you guys, but could you come outside please?"
"Of course," Keith replied. They hurriedly walked toward the entrance. "What's going on?"
"I think Chuck's about to get into a fight," Jane called over her shoulder.
When they exited the bar into the parking lot, they witnessed Chuck yelling at three guys. "I don't care if this is where you usually come, I'm here with my girl to have a good time! I don't need you punks to give me any trouble!"
"We don't need wimps like you hanging around our spot," one of the leather jacket wearers hurled back at him.
"You need to stay away from Jane, turkey," shouted the tallest.
Keith reached the group and put a hand on Chuck's chest and held up a warning hand to the opposing side. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on here?"
Chuck and the three guys started to talk at once. "One at a time! Chuck, what did these guys do to you?"
"They walked up to me and started hassling me because I'm here with Jane," he said, very calmly for how angry he looked.
"You need to tell your boy here that he just don't belong to be messin' with certain chicks," said the shortest one, who had a gap between his two front teeth.
"What's your problem with Jane?" asked Keith.
"We ain't got no problem with Jane, just with punks like him who shouldn't be messing around with her!"
"How do you know her?" Keith asked.
"She's my girl, Richie Rich," spat the tall one. "Or she was."
"You were the one who didn't call me anymore, so stop being stupid, Geoff!" shouted Jane.
Geoff started to back away, his hands in the air. "Fine. You want to be with this ugly, stuck-up butt-munch, fine with me. Just remember, Howdy Doody," he threatened, pointing at Chuck, "I had her first. And be careful, because she can get really cold afterwards."
The other two joined Geoff walking towards the car, still hurling insults such as "ice queen" and "poindexter" at them.
Chuck stormed off toward the back of the bar. Jane ran after him. "Has Chuck ever been in a fight before?" asked Libby, daring to speak for the first time since they had walked outside.
"Yeah, he can get very emotional. Usually calms down after a while, though. Jane should get him back to normal soon." Keith crossed his arms and stared after the couple. After a moment, he pulled out his wallet. "Here, go pay our bill. We'll want to leave soon, I'm sure." He gave her a ten-dollar bill. "Be sure to tip the waitress well."
Libby found the waitress soon, paid, gave her an apologetic smile, and went back out to join Keith. She heard Chuck, who didn't seem to be cooling down after all.
"Do you love him, Jane?"
Jane's voice was very shaky, and they could barely hear her from the distance. "I don't know," she replied.
Chuck walked back towards them. He pounded his fist against the side of the building.
"Come on, man. Let's get in the car and go home."
Chuck said nothing, but nodded.
Libby walked back to Jane, who was stumbling toward her. "Here, Janey. I'll drive. Do you want to ride up front with me?"
Jane had trouble even nodding at her, she was crying so hard.
Libby and Jane rode in the front, with the guys in the back seat. Chuck fumed the whole way home. When they arrived at Chuck's rental home, he barely muttered "Thanks," flung open his door and sprinted toward the house. Keith shut the door behind him and walked around to the driver's side, where Libby had the window open.
"We're just going to go straight home," said Libby.
"OK. Be safe, all right?" advised Keith.
He pecked her on the mouth. She started to pull away, when he trotted along beside the car. "Wait for a second. I really wanted to give you this," he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, "but I kept putting it off. Will you read this?"
"Sure," said Libby. She tucked it into her own pocket and pulled out of the driveway.
*"Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue" by Crystal Gayle
Chapter 12
Libby had an exhausting evening. After driving Jane home, who had sobbed as if her heart would break the whole way, she had taken her inside, gotten her ready for bed, and sat on the edge of the bed until Jane had calmed down enough to talk.
"I can't believe I said that, Libby. I ruined everything!" Jane whimpered into her pillow.
"Jane, sweetie, you didn't ruin anything. It was that jerk, Geoff. I can't believe him!"
"Libby, he hates me. Why didn't I say I don't love him? I DON'T love him! I used to think I did, but I know I don't now. I love Chuh- uh- uck!" she choked out.
Libby smoothed her hair. "Chuck loves you," she pointed out. "He'll get over this quickly, Jane. He seems like the type to communicate. In fact, I bet he'll call you tomorrow, begging your forgiveness."
Jane sighed and hiccupped. "Libby, that is sweet of you, but I don't think it will happen. I think I screwed things up too badly."
"Yes, but I've seen him looking at you," insisted Libby. "He loves you too much to let this get in the way. You guys can work it out. It is possible."
Jane had turned to the wall and said simply, "Thanks, Libby."
Libby had gotten ready for bed. As she changed out of her dirty clothes, she heard the rustle in her pocket and realized that Keith's note was in there.
"The Food of Love"
Our love is like a seagull
Gliding over the ocean
I love to see your soaring smile
And watch your form in motionYou are a Goddess to me
A Pallas Athena or Aphrodite
Your simple ways thrill my soul
And your temper would never spite meI cannot wait to satiate my hunger
Our passion will surely nourish
Every time I look into your eyes
I feel my fears vanishElizabeth, you are the sun and the moon
Your twinkling eyes are so fine
One day I'll improve your status
By claiming you as mine.
Libby reread the poem, shocked. Surely this wasn't the Keith she had gotten to know over the past few weeks? This poem was, well, awful.
She had had her experiences with poetry in high school, and then college, when she had taken creative writing. During those times, she had come to see rhyming poetry as trite and silly; it was too constraining for the author to really express him or herself. Using words one normally didn't use, such as "satiate", was another no-no in her book. Also, this poem left many things unexplained, which was unforgivable. A boyfriend of Jane's in high school had written her songs that he sang on his guitar, and Libby had wanted to strangle the poor sap.
Athena?she thought angrily. Am I the goddess of war? Aphrodite, the goddess of love, wasn't bad, but why on earth would he call her two different goddesses, and then on the next line call her simple? She was beginning to feel her temper, and it was enough to spite him.
What was this nonsense about calling her the sun and the moon? His putting her on a pedestal and thinking her perfect was exactly what she was disgusted by. The line "One day I'll improve your status" made her want to kick him in the shins. Was something wrong with her status? How dare he imagine that she'd need him to bring her up in the world!
Libby flung the paper on the floor by her bed. She was annoyed and tired, and as far as she was concerned, she wouldn't be seeing Keith anymore.
The phone ringing the next morning woke her up. "Hello?" she answered groggily, hoping it was Chuck for Jane.
"Hello, Elizabeth. It's your mother."
"Hi, Mom."
"Libby, you sound like you're still in bed! It's nearly ten o'clock!"
Libby struggled to sit up. "Yeah. We had a long night last night."
"Is everything all right?" Mrs. Bennet sounded concerned.
Libby paused. "Jane's upset. She and Chuck had a fight."
"Oh, no!"
"We ran into Geoff last night."
"Wickham?"
"That's the one. He tried to call Jane his girl, and called Chuck a few names. Then Chuck got upset with Jane. We were all pretty miffed."
"Oh, Libby! Did they make up?"
"No. I'm hoping he comes to his senses and calls today. Don't worry, though," she said, realizing that her mother would take this opportunity to smother Jane, "I've got it under control. Jane's going to be fine."
"Baby, is there anything I can do?" Libby could tell Mrs. Bennet was sincere, and not just trying to meddle in the girls' lives.
Libby thought hard. "Yes, you can, Mom. We'll come over to do our laundry, and you can make Jane her favorite grilled cheese."
"Oh, that sounds good! Sure, Libby. You bring your sister over, and I'll have a nice sandwich for her. I'll make you lunch, too, Sweetie."
"Thanks, Mom. Hey, could you act like you don't know what I told you? I'm not sure if Jane wants to talk about it yet."
"Don't worry, Libby. I'll be very cool, isn't that what they're saying nowadays? And if Jane wants to talk, I'll be here."
"That's great, Mom. We'll be over in an hour or so."
Jane woke up relatively easy. She smiled at Libby, then a look crossed her face that told Libby that she remembered last night. "Chuck is really mad at me, isn't he, Libby?"
Libby grabbed her hands and pulled her to an upright sitting position. "We're not going to think about that right now, Jane. We're going over to Mom and Dad's. Separate your laundry." Libby walked across the room and picked up Jane's laundry basket. She put it at the foot of Jane's bed. "Come on, get up!"
"All right, all right!" Jane threw back her pink blanket. She reached for the basket, and then said, "Wait, Libby. I can't go. What if Chuck calls?"
"He can call back," Libby said. "But if you're here waiting for him, then he's won. He can't get angry with you and then expect you to sit around waiting for him."
"Libby, it's partly my fault. I should be here to talk to him."
"Jane, you get started on your laundry. If you're really wanting to talk to him, I'll call Keith and tell him we're going over to Mom and Dad's."
Jane nodded. "That's a good idea. Thanks."
Libby walked out of Jane's bedroom and slapped her forehead with her palm. The last thing she wanted to do was to call him! Well, maybe she could make it brief and wouldn't have to discuss the horrible poem.
She shuffled over to the phone in the kitchen. She pulled the receiver off the hook and dialed the guys' number, her finger lingering in the hole after each number rotated the dial back into place. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding, not wanting anyone to answer. After three rings, a female voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Caroline? It's Libby Bennet."
Pause. "Oh, hi, Libby," Caroline responded in a sugary sweet voice.
"Hey. Is Keith or Chuck there?"
There was a noise on the other end as if Caroline were covering up the receiver. "Um, no, actually, they're not. They had to go out. Something about some AmWay contacts."
"Oh." Libby felt relieved, yet disappointed. "Could you tell them, then, that we're going over to my parents' house? If they need to reach us, we'll be over there."
"Sure thing! You have a good day!"
"You too. Bye."
When the two of them arrived at the Bennets' half an hour later, Jane practically dragged herself out of the car. She hauled the laundry basket out of the backseat, and plodded to the front door.
Mrs. Bennet greeted them at the front door, her apron spotless and her hair perfectly coiffed. "Look who it is! It's my first baby." She kissed Jane on the top of the head. "How are you, baby?"
Jane smiled weakly at her. "I'm fine, Mom."
Mrs. Bennet held the door open for them. "Come on in, come on in. I'm making lunch in a little while. Your favorite, Jane! Grilled cheese!"
Jane's face showed relief and happiness all at once. "Thanks, Mom," she said sincerely.
Libby took both of their laundry baskets to the washer and dryer and put in the first load. When she returned to the living room, Jane was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, in between Mary's legs, who was braiding her hair and telling Jane about her high school graduation, which was next Saturday.
"We have white caps and gowns, and the guys get to wear red ones. I think I'd rather wear a color, though, because I have to wear a white outfit underneath. Jane, I know I don't have a complete white outfit! Maybe I should just go nude."
Jane sniffed and tilted her head back to look at Mary's face. "I still have my outfit. You can wear mine. I know it's five years old, but..."
"That would be cool, Jane! I always loved that dress." Mary arranged the strands of hair into one hand so that she could grab a comb from the cushion. "You guys are coming, aren't you?" Mary asked, addressing the question also to Libby, who had joined her on the black, brown and white plaid couch.
"Nah, I have plans," Libby said nonchalantly. When Mary gave her a sad face, Libby grinned. "I'm kidding! Why would we miss your graduation?"
Mary smiled and finished the braid, securing it with a rubber band. "Thanks, guys. Mom wants us all to go out to eat afterwards. Plus it'll be hot out there on the football field, so wear something that is cool, but you can also wear in a restaurant."
"Sure," murmured Jane. She sounded lost in thoughts.
"Hey, Mary, what's going on with the youth intern?" Libby asked to change the subject.
Mary nodded. "He's doing a good job. He had us running this funky relay race at our last youth group. We had to run up and grab something out of a bag and eat it. We had to swallow it before we ran back to the line. I got a little box of cereal, but Lydia got a scallion!"
"EWWW!" both Libby and Jane exclaimed.
"But he's got really great ideas. He tells us that we don't have to conform to what our parents are telling us, because they want us to be just like them. He tells us to look to the Bible, and pray about who we should be."
Libby frowned. "Really? I mean, yeah, you should be your own person, but that sounds a little..." she faltered, not really knowing what to say.
Jane chimed in, "Yeah, that sounds odd. Everyone in that group is a minor, and you have to listen to what your parents are telling you."
"No, no, he didn't mean it like that," Mary explained quickly. "He just meant that our parents sometimes make wrong choices too. Or that they try to live their lives through us. It's more about achieving your own faith and sense of identity, rather than trying to make everyone else happy."
"Well, that sounds OK. As long as the people who he is telling this to are intelligent and able to make their own decisions without messing up too badly."
"Yeah, he really challenges us to be better, you know? Most youth leaders think we are silly kids who want to get in trouble all the time. But he respects us, and it shows through in his actions." Mary's eyes were shining.
"How does Lydia like it?" asked Libby.
"She adores it. She's even asked him if she could talk to him privately a few times. She asked me to wait for her last week while she sat around with him."
"If he helps Lydia, he's all right in my book," said Jane.
Mrs. Bennet came into the room with a tray full of grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone. She sat next to Jane on the couch, and hugged her frequently with one arm. Jane was the center of attention, and seemed to enjoy the coddling.
The rest of the visit passed as smoothly. Jane seemed very comforted by the time they left. It wasn't until they were turning onto their street that Jane noticed, "Chuck never called."
"They were busy," Libby excused him. "I talked to Caroline this morning and she told me they had something to do with the business."
Jane just stared at the window.
When they were walking to the front door, however, Mrs. Jones from down the street was walking toward them. "Hey, girls," she called. "Jane, I have a favor to ask of you."
Jane smiled at her. "What is it, Maddie?"
Maddie responded, "Well, Sam and I want to go to visit some friends in a couple of days. But we can't leave the girls all alone. We were wondering if you would like to come over and watch them and the house for a few days."
Jane nodded. "I can do that!" They discussed a few more details. Then they began a conversation about work. Maddie was considering taking some college courses. Since Christy was in first grade at Jane's school, and Debbie was already enrolled in a day care, it would be easy for Jane to watch them for a few days without taking any time off this last week of school.
Libby excused herself and went inside. She liked the Joneses, but she wasn't sure that babysitting would be the best option for Jane. It might give her some free time to think about Chuck, if they hadn't reconciled by now.
Chapter 13
By Thursday, Libby was ready for the weekend. The week had been absolute torture.
First of all, neither Chuck nor Keith had called. She was not in a fiery rush to talk to Keith, but she was curious as to why he had not contacted her. She had broken down on Tuesday and called the house, but there was no answer.
Jane had babysat for the Joneses, and Libby went over several times to check on her in the tiny green-and-white house. Jane sat morosely, always near the telephone, when the young girls weren't tugging at her mercilessly. Libby played hide-and-seek with them to keep them from squashing Jane, who was in a constant daze.
Driving home on Tuesday on I-4 from a rather unproductive research interview, her tire had blown out. She was terrified, and pulled off to the left shoulder, but realized it wasn't even wide enough for her to get out of the car. So she had to wait for a break in the traffic (almost twenty minutes during the rush hour) until she could pull out into the main lanes and drive, on the bald rim, to the other side of the road. She discovered, when she did, that the jack supplied in the trunk of her car was quite useless, so she had had to hike to a gas station to call a tow truck and Jane. She had actually worn pantyhose for the interview, and it got many runs from the hitchhiker weeds growing on the side of the highway. She spent Wednesday getting her tire replaced and buying a new jack.
On Thursday, she wandered around work, trying to waste time so that the afternoon would come sooner. She happened upon Richard, who asked her, "How's your week going?"
Libby gave him an earful and a half of how her week was going. Finally he interrupted her and said, "Woah, Charger. Better settle down before you hurt yourself. How about we go to happy hour tomorrow?"
"Oh, I need a happy hour," replied Libby.
Jane also appreciated the idea. When she went home that night, the girls gave each other massages and ate Burger Chef fast food. They decided that they had had enough cruelty for one week. They painted each other's toenails. Libby thought that her pink sparkly toes looked terrific. She was happy something about her looked good.
Friday evening after work, Libby followed Richard to Tom & Jerry's bar, where Jane met them for drinks. When she got off work (from a week that had been not nearly as stressful), Carly joined them as well. They also ran into an old friend from high school, Alicia.
Alicia turned out to be a poor influence on them. She loved to experiment with different kinds of shots, which she kept insisting they join her in. Richard had gone outside to play darts with Carly, but Jane and Libby kept downing shots with Alicia. And the more liquor they had inside them, the sadder their weeks became.
When Carly and Richard came inside, holding hands and laughing, Jane had her head down on the bar, and Libby was talking to a man who was in his late fifties and had a combover.
"I mean, come on," Libby gushed to the man. "My sister is bee-yoo-tiful! Why would he do that to her? Why?"
"He sounds like he doesn't know what he's missing," the man sympathized with her.
"I know! He is a loser! And maybe he did something to my tire to make it explode" (Here Libby flailed her arms about in an explosive gesture) like it did on I-4! Do you know how hard it is to change a tire?" Libby asked the man.
"Yeah, I work for a tire company," he replied. "I go out to fix flats all the time."
"Libby, what have you had to drink?" asked Richard.
"Um, not much," Libby hiccupped. "My friend bought me a shot, and then I think I had a beer. Or maybe a Kamikaze, I don't know."
"Oh, geez minetti, have you been mixing alcohols?" asked Richard frantically.
Alicia sashayed up to Richard. "Hey, Sugar Cookie," she slurred at him. "Are you with my good, good friend Libby?" She smiled drunkenly at him.
Richard recoiled from her strong breath. "Yeah. Why, do you know what she was drinking?"
"Yes, and I'll tell you, Mr. Fantastic, that she's not going to feel too good tomorrow! She had tequila, kahlua and cream, something green, a Budweiser, and a Kamikaze."
"And a Goldschlager," reminded the balding man.
"Oh, yeah, my new friend bought us Goldschlager shots," remembered Alicia. "That was so nice of you! You don't even know us!" she thanked the man, smiling widely into his face.
"Janice, can we have the tab, please?" Richard said to the bartender. He looked at the man. "What about this one? Is she passed out?"
At this comment, Jane popped her head up. "No, I'm not passed out!" she exclaimed, wide awake. "I don't like tequila," she observed. "It tastes bad when you burp it up." Her cheeks puffed out a little, as she burped and tasted the alcohol.
"Oh, Lord, I think I'm driving home," observed Carly.
The two of them practically had to carry Jane to the car, while Libby danced her way out. They all rode in Carly's car, since she had had nothing to drink but a Coke.
Libby moaned. The sun was very, very bright. Had scientists invented laser beams that shot from the sun directly into her eyes? She pulled the cover over her head, but the rustling was so, so loud that she moaned again.
Jane was lying next to her. "Oh, please don't move like that again," pleaded Jane. "I have already made too many trips to the bathroom. I want to die." The last word dragged out of her, so that it sounded like daah-ie.
"Jane, what happened last night?" Libby asked, trying not to move too much with her talking.
"I think we had too much to drink," recalled Jane. "I remember that girl, Alicia, and something about Carly and Richard." Jane smiled. "Oh yeah, I think they're dating."
Libby smiled weakly. "Good for them," she commented. "I knew they could do it."
"What, date each other?"
"Yeah." Libby licked her lips. "Man, I'm thirsty." She gently put her hand to her forehead. "Oh, what did I drink? I feel awful!"
Jane slowly and tenderly reached out her hand and patted Libby on the hand that was holding the cover over her head. "You drank a little of everything. That's why it's so bad. I did, too."
They were quiet for a few minutes, then Jane asked, "How did we get home? Did either of us drive?"
At that moment, Carly walked in, carrying two glasses of ice water. "No, I wouldn't let you do that," she assured them. "I drove. Richard and I carried you inside. You were both passed out. You drank for four hours, for goodness' sake!" She shook her head.
"Oh, Carly, thank you," whispered Jane. She slowly sat up and sipped the water that Carly held for her. "What would we do without you?"
"Wake up at the bald guy's apartment," guessed Carly. "You need to stay in bed. I'll be back to check on you in an hour or so."
Jane shook her head, then held her hands up to steady the dizzying feeling. "No, we have to get up. Mary's graduation is today."
Libby groaned. "What time is it?"
Carly looked at the clock. "Nine-thirty," she observed.
"Good. It doesn't start until one o'clock. We have about two or two-and-a-half hours to get ready."
"Ugh, I'm staying right here. I can't move," whined Libby.
"Yes, you're getting up. I didn't feel like getting up last week, but you made me, and I'm glad you did," said Jane. "You don't want to let Mary down. I know you don't."
Libby's eyes appeared from under the blanket, bloodshot and sleepy-lidded. "No, I don't," she agreed. "It's going to take me a while, though. Are we all right to drive?"
"You should be," replied Carly.
"Well, I'll get up. But I won't look pretty. You can't make me. The best I can do right now is clean."
"You'll feel so much better once you've had a shower. Oh, and Libby?" Jane said as Libby crawled out of the bed.
"Yeah?"
"You're always my beautiful princess sister," Jane said in a baby voice.
"Shut up or I'll bounce on the bed," Libby threatened.
At twelve forty-five, Libby and Jane climbed out of the Maverick. Both were wearing large sunglasses. Libby had on the same green velour dress that she had worn to Rosie O'Grady's. Jane had on a beige skirt and a short-sleeved, white button-down blouse. Both of them looked well-rested and pretty, belying how awful they still felt inside.
"Oh my gosh, I don't think I can walk in these shoes," muttered Libby.
"You can do it," Jane grunted through gritted teeth, as they spotted Lydia. Jane waved unenthusiastically as Lydia scowled at them.
"Wow, Lydia looks as bad as I feel," Libby commented. "What's eating her?"
As they approached, Lydia looked away and started walking towards the bleachers. "When will Edgewater build its own stadium?" Libby wondered. They had to share a football stadium with another nearby high school.
They followed Lydia up to a row of seats not too high up to make them dread climbing the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet smiled as they approached. Mr. Bennet stood and kissed them on their cheeks.
When they sat down, Libby was able to lean over to her dad and whisper, "What's eating Lydia?" They glanced down at her, sitting at the end of the row. She was picking her fingernail polish, and ignoring everyone and everything around her. Normally, Lydia would be standing up, smiling and flirting with any nearby cute boys; she seemed uncharacteristically lethargic and depressed.
Mr. Bennet sighed. "I wish I knew," he confessed. "Your mother and I have been trying and trying to get her to tell us. But you know how Lydia is. Stubborn as a mule. She says we wouldn't understand."
Libby thought. "Well, maybe Jane can talk to her. They've always been able to talk," she said.
Her father responded with silence. Libby thought that he must be very worried indeed if he could not even have faith in Jane's communicating abilities. From childhood, the girls had always had their connections with the younger sisters: Libby and Mary were close, and Jane and Lydia. Libby hoped Jane could perk Lydia up, but with Jane's sad mood, it seemed unlikely.
When the ceremony started, Mrs. Bennet was up out of her seat, making a fuss over Mary. They had a good view of her, and her gold tassels and cords glinted in the sun. Mrs. Bennet had to be up in the aisle, taking snapshots and fussing about the angle and other students blocking her view of Mary.
Mary graduated with honors. She had been disappointed not to have been Valedictorian, but she had been among the top ten in her class, and had received several scholarship offers from Florida schools. When the principal called her name to hand her the diploma and shake her hand, the Bennets all stood, cheered, whistled, and catcalled. Libby and Jane fought the pain in their throbbing heads to support Mary, but all Lydia could manage was a pathetic clap.
Afterward, among all the confusion of families meeting up with graduates, Libby prodded Jane to talk to Lydia. She saw Jane pull her aside, and watched as Lydia stared at the ground and refused to open up to her favorite sister. She could scarcely believe the change in her youngest sister in such a short time.
The family agreed to meet at Ronnie's, a popular restaurant on Colonial Drive. Jane tried to persuade Lydia to ride with them, but she refused. Libby and Jane dragged themselves back to Libby's car.
"Oh, I just want to go home and sleep," moaned Libby.
"I'm starting to feel a little better," Jane said hopefully. "I need something to drink, though."
"Nothing like hot seat belts to get you motivated," Libby said, quickly trying to buckle the seat belt without touching it. She clawed her fingers, trying to only touch the plastic.
Finally, they were set, and with windows rolled down and sweat gathering on their foreheads, they set off for Ronnie's. Libby touched the steering wheel with only the tips of her fingers, first with her left hand, then with her right. "I can't wait to own a car with air conditioning," she commented.
"That ought to be standard in cars in Florida," observed Jane.
After the short drive, Libby found that Ronnie's was busy. Apparently, many families had thought it a good place to celebrate. It was located in the corner of a shopping center, so they had to drive quite a ways down from the restaurant to find a parking space.
Libby never liked to take her time getting out of a car. Especially not a day like today, when it was so hot, and she knew the inside of Ronnie's would be nice and cool. So she quickly pulled the keys from the ignition, snatched her purse, and locked and shut the door all in one motion. Jane then pointed out that the gift that she had responsibly bought and wrapped from both of them was on Libby's side in the backseat, so she had to open the car again, and awkwardly balance her purse on her shoulder while reaching for the present. Finally, she was ready to walk in, but had a handful with her keys in her hand, and the gift in the other. She hurried up to the sidewalk, trying to put her keys in the zippered pocket with one hand, which was normally a two-handed job.
She wasn't watching where she was going, so she clumsily tripped over the curb and fell. She felt herself going down almost in slow motion. Her hands reached out to stop her fall on the concrete, causing the gift to fly out from her hands and skid across the walk. She tumbled onto her palms and her knees. Without even looking, she knew her knees had been skinned through her dress, and feeling her toenails scraping the asphalt, knew also that her pedicure from the other night was all grated off.
Jane gasped and cried out, "Libby, are you OK?"
A familiar male voice asked, "Can you get up?" She saw his hand reaching out towards her and looked up into his eyes.
Chapter 14
Libby was speechless. For one thing, she was gasping from running and then tripping; then, she was at a loss for what to say to Keith, who was holding out his hand toward her.
"Libby, here, you have to get up," Jane prodded, reaching down to take her forearm. With their aid, Libby managed to get into a sitting position on the curb.
"Oh, how embarrassing," she moaned.
A familiar female voice said, "Wow, that looked painful! Are you OK?"
Libby looked down at her lap. Great, she thought. Just what I need, Carol to gloat over my clumsy fall. She looked up and smiled. "Yeah, I had a nice trip," she quipped.
Jane and Carol giggled, but Keith did not. "Man, you had me worried there for a second," he told her. Libby looked at his face. "I ran over here as fast as I could."
Libby smiled. "Thanks," she managed. "It's lucky you were here." Unlike this whole week, when I've been wondering where you've been, she thought.
Jane asked, "So what are the two of you doing here?"
Keith replied, "I just flew back in from New York. I had to go up there to see my family." He seemed to look questioningly at Libby. "Carol was nice enough to pick me up from the airport."
"We're just stopping by here for some lunch on our way home," Carol informed them.
Libby nodded. "It's our sister Mary's graduation day. We're having lunch here, too."
Jane looked at her toes. "Libby, you're all scraped up! We'd better get you inside where you can wash up."
Libby stood up awkwardly without any hands, and Jane picked up the gift, which now had skid marks on the wrapping. "Well..."
"Well, we'll see you around," Carol said quickly. "Come on, Keith. We have to go get a table."
Keith did not look as if he knew what to say. "Sure, here," he said as he held the door open for them.
Jane spotted their family. "Come on, sis; we'll leave the present at the table with Mom and Dad, and then go to the bathroom."
Carol was busy telling the hostess that she needed a table for two in the smoking section, and Keith was studying his shoes. "OK," Libby said. "Hey, Keith, I'll see you around, right?"
He looked up. "Right," he replied. "Um, I'll call you sometime this week."
"OK." Libby didn't know if she should ask about Chuck. She decided not to. "Bye."
At the table, Jane informed Mr. and Mrs. Bennet of Libby's situation and need to wash up, and pulled Libby to the ladies' room. She pulled several paper towels out of the holder, ran the water, and started squirting soap onto one of the towels. "Wow, that was weird," she commented.
"Lordy, I can't believe Carol saw me fall! And Keith, too! Oh, Janey, I'm so embarrassed." She put her foot up on the counter and started dabbing at the scrapes on her knees. She winced and drew in a sharp breath as the soap touched the raw skin.
"I'm sure they were more concerned that you were all right," Jane said as she patted the soapy area with a wet paper towel.
"Yeah, because it wouldn't have been funny if I'd gotten hurt, now would it?" Libby asked with bitterness in her voice. "You can laugh at the dork on TV who trips and falls as long as you know he's not really hurt."
"Keith looked genuinely concerned," Jane pointed out. "Here, run your hands under the water."
Libby did as she was told. "Oh, man, my skin is just shredded here," she said as she pulled a piece of wet, loose skin.
"Don't pull on it," Jane advised. "Here, you wash off some more and I'll ask a waitress if they have any band-aids."
Again, Libby did as Jane told her. She was drying off her toes (which looked as if she'd used sandpaper to try to remove the polish) when Carol came in. Carol completely ignored her and walked into a stall. Libby kept patting, and presently Jane came in, too.
"They gave me a box, and told me to use as many as we need," Jane told her.
Libby tried to silently motion with her head. "What?" Jane asked, clueless to what the head jerk meant. Libby mouthed, "Carol!" but Jane still looked confused. Libby grabbed the box and shook her head as the toilet flushed and Carol walked out.
She walked right past them out the door. "Can you believe her nerve?" asked Jane incredulously.
"Can you believe she didn't wash her hands?" Libby said disgustedly. "Ew!"
They finished putting Libby together and walked out. When they approached the table, Mary turned around and saw Libby's bandaged knees and hands. She held back a laugh. "Wow, Libby. You got all dressed up for me!"
"Shut up," Libby told her as she took the seat across from her.
"Libby!" Mrs. Bennet was shocked. "Why would you say that to your sister?"
"She's just teasing, Mom," assured Mary. "Right, Libby? You're just joshing me." She kicked her leg under the table to emphasize the fact that they were all supposed to be kidding each other.
"Of course, my huge-brained little sister," Libby said back. "Hey, did y'all order yet?"
"No, we were waiting for you," Mr. Bennet said.
The waitress walked up at that moment. Libby and Jane ordered last so they could look over the menu.
Then, Mary opened her presents. Her parents gave her a new journal, a set of nice pens, and a gold cross necklace. Libby and Jane's present turned out to be a photo album and a hardcover, first edition copy of The Catcher In The Rye. Everyone noticed that Lydia had given her nothing.
Libby was glad that the restaurant had a partition so that she couldn't see where Keith and Carol were sitting. She was happy that she was with her family, although she frowned on Lydia, sitting quietly, dripping water on her straw wrapper so that it unwound like a snake.
Jane and Libby took Mary out to see a movie later that evening. It was early enough so that Mary could go to a graduation party that some friends were having. Mary described it as the "Nerd Convention." Libby assured her that, since they had graduated, they were no longer nerds.
"Shoot, that was kind of my claim to fame," Mary joked.
When they got home, Libby flopped on the couch. "Whew, what a day!"
Jane was taking off her sandals. "Doesn't that hurt your scrapes?"
Libby rested her hands lightly on her stomach. "No ... I just want to lie here for a while. I feel so comfortable."
Jane turned on the TV. They watched in contented silence for a while. Then the phone rang, and Jane picked it up. "Hello?" she waited a second. "Hello, who's there?" she made a confused face and hung the receiver up. "Maybe it was a wrong number, but it sounded like someone hung up on me."
"Probably a wrong number," Libby said tiredly. She went to the bathroom to change her bandages. While she was snipping off some loose skin with cuticle scissors, Jane came to the door.
"Libby, it happened again. I'm getting annoyed."
"Leave the phone off the hook for a while."
"If we do that, someone might try to call. What if it's important and they can't get through?"
Libby looked up at Jane. "Well, if it happens again, we'll call the phone company and report it. Maybe they'll get bored of doing it after a while and stop."
Jane nodded. Libby changed into her comfy clothes, and came back out to the living room. While she was popping popcorn, the phone rang again.
"I'll get it," she told Jane. "Yes? Can I help you?" she said icily into the phone. There was blank silence on the other line. Libby waited silently. After about ten seconds, there was a hanging up sound.
"OK, I'm calling the phone company," Libby said.
She dialed the operator and waited. When the woman's voice came on the line, she told her what had happened. "It's happened three times within fifteen minutes. We're two single women living here, and it's a little unnerving," she said.
"Yes. We'll monitor your line to see if any unusual activity happens again," the operator assured her.
Ten minutes later, it happened again. Libby picked it up, with Jane standing by her shoulder. "Hello?"
Again the silence. She heard a woman's voice saying, "The call was placed from ___________, so we have tracked the phone number. We can block this number from calling you, if you wish."
Libby heard the click of the other phone hanging up. "Yes, please. I don't want them calling again." She made the arrangements with the operator and then hung up. "I hope they don't just go to a different phone and call," she said.
They both wondered who would be calling them. It was starting to get creepy. But the call block obviously worked, because when they shut off the television and went to bed, they had not gotten another phone call.
Chapter 15
Libby and Jane both went to church the next day. The odd phone calls had made them want to feel safe and close to their families. They wound up sitting with the whole Bennet clan, in the pew behind Mr. and Mrs. Jones and their oldest daughter, Christy. Mary persisted in passing notes on the backs of offering envelopes to Libby. The great thing about Mary was that she passed notes about the sermon, rather than about boys or gossip. Her comments were usually things like "Yes, I'm sure Paul would have agreed with that; after all, weren't the early Christians Southern Baptist?" and "Oh my, C.S. Lewis is probably rolling over in his grave after hearing that interpretation on 1 Corinthians 13!!!" It was all Libby could do not to burst out laughing. She tried to concentrate on the throbbing in her knees to avoid giggling, and wrote back some witty sayings of her own.
After the service, Mrs. Jones turned to Jane.
"Thank you again for housesitting for us, Jane."
"It was my pleasure, Maddie. Christy was so good! We had so much fun!" Jane smiled and patted the little girl on the shoulder.
"Jane, when are you coming to spend the night again?" Christy asked.
"We can have a sleepover party any time your mommy says it's OK!" Jane assured her.
Mr. Jones had gone to collect Debbie from the nursery. "There's Janey!" shrieked the little girl.
"Hey, Debbie!" Jane held out her arms to the little blond girl. Debbie happily climbed into Jane's hug, and then looked querulously at Libby.
"Your shirt's pink," she informed her.
"That's right! It is pink," Libby agreed.
Debbie nodded solemnly. "I knew that in my brain," she informed them.
"You sure are smart," Jane told her.
"I know," Debbie replied simply.
"What are you doing this afternoon?" Maddie asked them.
The girls looked at each other. "Nothing," replied Jane.
"Do you want to come on a walk with us? We promised the girls they could ride bikes."
"Sure. I'd love a walk." Libby added silently to herself, "I would like to clear my head."
When they got home, they changed into shorts and tee shirts and walked to the Joneses'. Debby was already riding her red tricycle around on the sidewalk outside the little green- and- white house. Mr. Jones was watching her. Libby and Jane chatted with him about the weather until Maddie and Christy came out, dressed in playclothes. Christy mounted her blue bicycle and showed off how she could ride without training wheels. They all complimented her riding skills, then set off down the street.
"So, what's been going on in your world?" Mrs. Jones inquired.
"Oh, wow, a lot has been going down lately," Libby moaned.
"Like what?" Maddie looked curiously at her.
Libby told her about the flat tire on I-4, the awful hangover, the skinned knees (complete with visual aids), and the prank phone calls. "Oh yeah, and the guys we've been dating have weirded out on us," she ended.
"Yikes! It's been quite a week," Maddie commiserated.
Mr. Jones went to steer the girls away from a car that was approaching, and Maddie said, "What do you mean, 'weirded out'?"
Jane replied, "Well, I sort of screwed up. I panicked when he asked what was up with an old boyfriend, and he hasn't called me."
"Hasn't called you? Do you know why?"
Jane shook her head. "Well, there's always the possibility that he hates me and wants nothing to do with me. But I really don't know what's going on."
Maddie nodded sympathetically. "And what's going on with your guy, Libby?"
Libby snorted. "I really don't know," she said. "I mean, he was very into me, and then he wrote me this horrible poem." She smirked, thinking about how bad it had been. "And he hasn't called me, either! But we did see him yesterday." She recounted how he had seen the infamous fall. "And to top it off, he was with Carol. And she was very witchy to us."
Jane had stopped listening to Libby. She was looking down the street at a car that was driving toward them. When it slowed to a stop, Libby noticed that Chuck was driving the VW Beetle. Jane walked over and bent over, hands on her knees, to talk to him.
"Is that Chuck?" asked Maddie.
"Yeah! I wonder why he's here?" asked Libby. "Hopefully he wants to beg forgiveness." The two adults led the little girls away from the couple to give them some time to talk.
"Wow, that's a good sign," breathed Libby. Maddie agreed.
They stayed in the same area so they could keep an eye on the car but gave them privacy just the same. Every once in a while, Jane appeared to laugh, so Libby thought the conversation was heading in the right direction. Christy and Debby got off their bikes to pick the pink flowers off of the azalea bushes growing alongside the road.
When the Bennet girls headed inside later that afternoon, they were accompanied by a relieved-looking Chuck. After leaving the couple be for an hour, she went to join them in the living room. She wanted so badly to ask him about the past week, but didn't know what to ask.
At last, Chuck turned to her. "So, did you have a nice trip?"
Libby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and I brought you a souvenir." She presented her knees, hands, and feet as examples. "Keith and Carol told you about it?"
Chuck grinned. "Nope, Carol didn't say a word. Keith was pretty worried about you. I said I'd come over today and check how you were doing. He thinks you're mad at him."
Libby's jaw dropped. "Me? Mad? Why?"
Chuck held his hands out, making a pushing away motion. "Woah, baby, I don't know. He said you seemed angry when you saw him yesterday, that's all I know. He tried to call you Friday..."
"Friday night? We were out Friday night."
"Yeah, well, he needed a ride from the airport yesterday morning. He thought you'd be down for that, but he had to settle for my sis picking him up."
It all made sense! "Chuck, is he home now?"
Chuck nodded. "He's catching up on some work."
She jumped up. "OK, y'all, I'm going to call him. I want to get this straightened out. Chuck, it is nice to see you again. Drop by anytime."
"Take care, Libs."
Libby quickly dialed the seven digit number she had committed to memory. She realized that she had missed him more than expected. As the phone rang on the other end, her heart raced.
"Yo," a deep voice with an Italian accent answered.
"Um, Guido? Hi, this is Libby. Is Keith around?"
Guido made a grunting sound. "Naw, he ran up to da store. You wanna call back later?"
Libby's lips scrunched off to the side. "Yeah, I'll try back later. Have a good day, Guido."
"You too." He hung up.
She stalked back into the living room. "Rats, he wasn't there."
The couple were now watching television, and Libby noticed they were even holding hands. She couldn't wait to ask Jane later what they had talked about.
Chuck didn't leave until after Libby had gone to bed. She had not called Keith; she figured she would call him the next day.
Libby swore. She had practically broken her ankle when her foot slipped on the stairs, but had caught the handrail just in time to avoid a nasty spill (her wrist, specifically, caught the handrail, and she now rubbed the spot where she could tell she'd have a big bruise). Now, as she looked out the front door of the Orlando Sentinel office, rain poured off the awning to the sidewalk and flooded gutter below.
Florida weather, Libby thought, as she opened the door and made a dash for her car with her purse above her head. The summer weather's starting, when it's always sweltering throughout the morning, and then storming in the afternoon. She deftly opened the door, threw her purse in, and heaved her body in, landing in the driver's seat in a perfect sitting position, all in one motion.
She slammed the door and stuck the key in the ignition. She hated driving when she was soaking wet. It always felt as if her feet would slip off the pedals, and she was squishing in the seat.
Libby pulled the paper out of her purse and looked at the directions. They had gotten a little wet, and the ink was slightly fuzzy. She drove off toward Colonial Drive, squinting at the directions.
She knew she had to drive a few miles before coming to the road she needed to turn on, so she put the directions on the seat and concentrated on the road. Her windshield wipers slip-slopped as they went back and forth. As she noticed a yellow light up ahead, she pushed on the brakes, only to find her car hydroplaning frightfully toward the car in front of her. Desperate, she pumped the brakes, but could not slow down in time and her car crashed into the bumper.
She sat for a moment, dizzy and nauseated. Oh my gosh, this will count as my fault, was her first thought. Then she comprehended that there were people in the car in front of her, and she ought to check on them. She turned her hazards on, and got out in the pouring rain to look.
Keith was surveying the damage to the back of his leased Cadillac. "@^$#, Libby! Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
Libby felt a wealth of emotions well up inside her. First, she was relieved that Keith was all right. Second, she was annoyed that she had hit Keith, of all people. Third, she felt embarrassed that she had not been able to stop in time. It was a little too much to express all at once, so she lamely said, "Yeah. Are you OK?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and bent over, looking into her eyes. "Does your neck hurt?" he gently rubbed her neck, water pouring over his fingers.
She shook her head, not knowing if she had started crying or if the rain was just washing over her face. "Keith, I'm so sorry. I tried to stop..."
"Come on. Get in the car." Keith steered her into the back seat of his Cadillac. It felt good to get out of the rain. "It's OK! This is a rental car. And you have insurance, right?" Libby sniffed. He put his finger under her chin and looked at her intensely. "It's not really bad damage, Lib. It's all right. Your hood is messed up but it can be fixed. All that matters is that neither of us got hurt." He leaned over the seat and got her a napkin from a fast food restaurant. She couldn't help but notice his well-rounded butt as he reached. When he handed her the napkin, she dabbed at her eyes with it.
"Keith, it's just been a hard week. I'm so tired." She glanced back at her car, which still had the headlights on and the hazards flashing. "Do we need to file a police report?"
"I don't know. I don't think the damage is bad enough." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and looked for the temporary insurance card. A squashed boiled peanut fell out onto the floor. "How did that get in there?" he wondered. "It must be left over from when we went to the Crash-O-Rama. Anyway, we could head to my house. It's only about five minutes away and we could call them. Do you have your insurance card?"
Libby had left her purse in her car. "Um, it's in my car. Oh, shoot, I'll have to call my appointment and let them know I'll be late." Then his words registered in her head. "You have a house? Your own house?"
"Yeah, I'm renting a house in College Park. OK, you get in your car and let's make sure it starts so you can follow me there."
They got out into the pouring rain and ran, hunched over, back to Libby's Maverick. She got into the driver's seat and started it back up; there was no hesitation, even.
"All right, leave your hazards on and follow me. We'll go up Bumby and head down Virginia."
They caravanned through the Orlando streets with their hazards flashing. They pulled up into the driveway of a small white house. It was typical of other College Park houses because it looked as if it had been built earlier in the century, but very sturdy.
They ran to the front door and Keith unlocked the door. He had her wait in the foyer while he ran for towels, and they stood for a moment, relishing the warm, dry material soaking up their wetness.
"I know I want to change out of these clothes. Do you want to borrow something, and I can throw your stuff in the dryer?"
Libby smiled half-heartedly. "I'm sure nothing of yours would fit me."
"I've got a robe you can borrow. And some sweatpants. No hairdryer, though."
His attention warmed her heart. "That sounds lovely. Where can I change?"
He showed her to a small bathroom, and immediately brought her the robe and sweatpants, along with some rather worn but comfortable socks. She felt odd changing into Keith Darcy's clothes, in his bathroom, with no underwear, in the middle of the day, but knew her only choice was to sit around in cold, damp clothes.
When she came out, wrapping the towel securely around her hair, Keith was on the phone with the insurance company. He had been placed on hold, and was turning on the radio, which was on the console next to the phone.
Libby looked around. The phone, radio, and television were the only gadgets set up in the rather small living room, with many boxes lying around unpacked. The furniture looked as if it had come with the house. She settled herself on the green-and-yellow flowered couch and waited for him to finish. She fished her insurance card out of her purse and placed it on the coffee table.
When the representative returned, she assured him that he needed to contact Libby's insurance company. He dialed the phone for her, and she described the accident to the representative. She had to give many details and numbers, and when she was finished she looked over at Keith.
He was sitting on the couch, arms draped over the back, staring at her. She was overcome by his wet curls, tight T-shirt, and shadow of stubble beginning to creep over his handsome jaw line. As she gazed at him, one of her favorite songs began to play on the radio.
Hello, it's me
I've thought about us for a long, long time
Maybe I think too much but something's wrong
There's something here doesn't last too long
Maybe I shouldn't think of you as mine.
Libby walked over to him on the couch and sat down next to him. He reached out and stroked her face. She pulled the towel out of her hair and set it next to her.
Seeing you,
Or seeing anything as much as I do you
I take for granted that you're always there
I take for granted that you just don't care
Sometimes I can't help seeing all the way through.
Keith grasped her face in both of his hands and kissed her, kissed her deeply and passionately.
It's important to me that you know you are free
'Cause I never want to make you change for me.
Think of me,
You know that I'd be with you if I could
I'll come around to see you once in a while,
Or if I ever need a reason to smile
And spend the night if you think I should.*
Still kissing, Keith pulled her up and led her, groping their way down the hall. They shut the door behind them.
*"Hello, It's Me" by Todd Rundgren
Chapter 16
Libby sat up abruptly. "Keith, stop!"
"What's wrong?" he asked, grinning, as he ran his finger along her thigh.
"Oh, no ... I have to..." Libby jumped up quickly and grabbed her pants up off the floor. "Where did my underwear land? Oh, this is terrible!"
Keith suddenly got serious. "Do you need to make a phone call?"
Libby nodded as she shoved her clothes onto her body. "Yes. I can't believe I just ... that we just..."
"I know. It was like I lost my mind for a moment." Keith climbed out of the bed and pulled his clothes on, too. "Settle down, Lib. I'm sure you're not in trouble or anything. You haven't been here that long."
"But, Keith, my work doesn't know where I am. I'm supposed to be at an interview, and they don't know where I am. Oh, this is terrible!" She ran out of the room, hopping as she slid her shoes on.
Keith followed her. "Here. Use the phone, and see if anyone has missed you in the last thirty minutes." He dragged the phone over to the coffee table and sat down on the couch.
Libby dialed Richard's number at work, as he worked closest to her. He answered after two rings. "Richard Williams speaking," he said.
"Richard! This is Libby. What's going on in the office? Has anyone been looking for me?"
"Libby? Where are you?"
"I am at Keith Darcy's house. I was in a fender bender."
"Lib, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, but I came here to see if I needed to file a police report, which I don't, and we got talking and forgot about the time. Has anyone been asking for me?" she repeated.
"Libby, your phone's been ringing a lot. Maybe you should come back."
She hung up and rummaged through her purse for the phone number. She called the people she was supposed to interview, who said that the next day would be better for them, as well, and rescheduled. When she hung up, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, that's taken care of," Keith said.
"Yes, but I have to go back to the office right away," Libby told him. "I wonder who has been calling me so much." She threw her purse over her arm. "Well, um..."
Keith stood up. "I understand. Hey," he said, tipping her chin up. He kissed her slowly on the lips. "Everything will be all right. Outta sight, even. Call me, OK?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I'll call tonight. Sorry I have to run." She kissed him again and dashed out to her car. The rain had stopped. She drove hurriedly but carefully back to the Orlando Sentinel office, where she dashed to her desk in time to catch her phone on its third ring.
"Elizabeth Bennet speaking," she said into the phone, trying not to sound out of breath.
"Libby! Where have you been?" It was Jane's voice.
"Jane? I was on an assignment," she fibbed. "Why? What's wrong?" Libby sensed panic in her sister's voice.
"Libby, I don't want to alarm you. But Mom and Dad are really worried about Lydia," Jane said.
"Why? What's she done now?"
"We can't find her. She wasn't in her bedroom this morning, and they've looked at her friends' houses. She has just ... vanished."
"Do they think she ran away?"
Jane sighed. "They really don't know, Libby. She has been acting so strangely lately that she could have run away, or she might have been kidnapped by these people she's been hanging out with..."
"What people?" Libby asked.
"The youth intern at church, Bill, has apparently been coming around with some friends and talking to her," Jane said. "But Mom and Dad thought he was counseling her. Now they think there is something horrible going on."
Libby leaned against her cubicle wall, tapping her cheek with a pencil, thinking. "Well, what can I do? I can't just sit here, can I?"
"Libby, what would you do? They're looking everywhere they can think of. People from church are out looking, too."
"Where is Bill?"
Jane paused. "I don't know; Mom didn't tell me if he was at his job or anything."
"Well, if he's been coming around, maybe he knows something." She peeked around the corner. "Hold on a second, OK, Jane?"
Libby set the receiver down and walked over to Richard's desk. "Hey, Richard?"
He looked up from his word processor monitor. "What's up, Lib?"
"This is going to sound strange, but do you know where your cousin is?"
Richard looked thoughtful. "No, I haven't seen a lot of him lately. He's been pretty busy. Why, what do you need him for?"
"Well, he's been spending a lot of time with my sister, Lydia. Today she's missing, and my parents are frantic."
Richard's face registered alarm. "Oh no, really?" He picked up his phone and dialed quickly. "Hello Betty, this is Richard, Bill's cousin. Is he in? No? Well, thank you." He hung up and looked gravely at Libby. "He called in sick today."
"Thanks, I'll be right back," she called as she hurried away. She picked up her own phone and told Jane, "Bill isn't at work today. He called in sick."
"Oh Libby, what are we going to do?"
"I'm going to go back over to Richard and see if he has any ideas. If we can come up with something, I'll call you back. I'll also call Mom to tell her what is up."
"That's good; she's waiting by the phone for any word."
The sisters hung up and Libby rushed back to Richard's cubicle. He was pacing. Libby told him, "My parents and some people at church are looking for Lydia. How can we help find her and Bill?"
Richard stopped pacing and looked at her. "I could go home and see if there are any clues," he told her. "You know, phone numbers, addresses, anything. He's been coming home to get the mail, so I haven't seen anything suspicious; he just puts mine on my bed. I'll check to see if I can find anything in his room."
"That's a good idea, Richard. Can I come?"
"Sure. Give me five minutes to close everything out and then we'll go."
Libby turned to walk back to her cubicle, when she ran smack into Gary Tate, the assignment editor. "Where are you going in such a rush?" he asked.
"Gary, I'm having a family emergency right now," she told him, a panicky note in her voice. She walked back to her cubicle, Gary following her.
"How did the interview with the water park people go?" he asked as he waddled along behind her.
"I got in a fender bender, Gary, and I had to reschedule with them for tomorrow," she answered truthfully. Please don't let him ask what happened afterward, she prayed silently.
"Well, if you're having a family emergency, should you be taking this interview tomorrow, then?" he inquired.
She sighed. "I don't know. I have no idea what my parents will want me to do, or even if there is anything I can do. I'm going to have to let you know as events unfold."
He nodded. "Well, give me a call and tell me if I should reassign it to another reporter," he told her. "I'll need to know by five o'clock."
She nodded as she rearranged a stack of papers on her desk, trying to look busy. "Thanks, Gary," she said. As he walked away, she picked up the phone and dialed Keith. He answered on the third ring.
"Oh, Keith, you won't believe what happened since I left you," she breathed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She told him about Lydia's disappearance, and how Bill was missing, too. She told him about their recent time spent together.
"What is to be done to find them?" Keith asked.
"We're going to have to try to find them," Libby said. "We're going over to Richard's house to see if we can find any suspicious mail or phone numbers."
Keith paused momentarily. "I'm going to meet you there," he said determinedly.
"Why, Keith?"
"I'll explain when I get there. But believe me, I have experience with this. I'll know what to look for."
When Libby and Richard got to Richard's house, Keith was already there, as his house was closer. They went inside, Richard asking, "What's this all about, Darcy?"
Darcy looked grim. "My sister, Jo, was in a cult last year. It's been tough. My parents hired a professional to kidnap her and get her away from them. She's been in counseling ever since." Keith ran his hand over his face. "I'm not really sure that's the best method though, you know? I mean, she was brainwashed, and needs the deprogramming, but I don't think she was quite ready to leave the group. She was very angry for a long time, she wouldn't talk to me, and I think she was suicidal for a while."
Richard and Libby had been standing with their mouths open, staring at him. Finally Libby cried, "Oh my gosh, Keith. Do you think they joined a cult?"
Keith nodded. "From what Bill was saying that day at the beach, and Lydia's strange behavior lately, I'm almost sure of it. If they are in a cult, I want to help because I didn't get a lot of opportunity with Jo. If they're not, then I'll still help," he added.
Richard walked toward a bedroom. "Here, guys," he instructed them. "Look in Bill's room for anything suspicious. I'll look around the rest of the house to see if I can find anything."
Keith and Libby started moving piles around in the messy bedroom. One of the first things Keith found was a letter from a man named Yoneq, inviting Bill to come see the property he had bought. "Yoneq... I've heard that name before," he murmured.
Libby found a stack of notes from Lydia. As she read through them, she told Keith the highlights: "You are the only one who understands me... Our church doesn't understand what it means to keep the Sabbath holy... I need spiritual cleansing." She looked up at him. "I didn't know Lydia could be so deep."
Keith nodded. "She's always seemed very superficial and silly."
Richard came to the door. "I found some directions on a scrap of paper," he told them. "Should we take off right now?"
"Let me tell my parents first," Libby said. She walked to his phone, and called her mother. Mrs. Bennet told her that the men from church had not turned up with very much, so she was glad to get such a commanding piece of intelligence. She agreed to relay the information to her husband, and to let them seek Lydia out.
Libby took a deep breath. She couldn't believe they were about to go on this mission. It seemed so unreal to her that her baby sister, the silly one, the sister they had all worried about because she was not serious enough about life, could be involved in a cult. As she followed the men out the door, Libby prayed silently that her sister would be OK, and that they would find her quickly and be able to bring her safely home.
Whatcha gonna do when she says good-bye?
Whatcha gonna do when she is gone?
Whatcha gonna do when she says good-bye?
Whatcha gonna do when she is gone?*
Libby sat in the backseat as Richard drove south down the two-lane highway. He had the radio playing softly, and Libby thought how appropriate the lyrics were. She had no idea what they would do, now that Lydia was gone. How they would persuade her to come back home; that what she was starting to believe in was a lie.
"So, what have you learned about people in cults?" Richard asked Keith.
"Well, there are many different kinds," Keith explained. "But most of the time, they are looking for some kind of meaning in their lives."
"Lydia was trying to get more spiritual lately," Libby pointed out.
"Well, this is probably part of her searching process," Keith noted. "The people who lead these things are very persuasive. They have probably convinced her that everything she's believed before is wrong, that her family doesn't really love her, or that she's not complete without them. Whatever she's heard, though, she's going to have some strong arguments against whatever we have to say."
"So, how do we convince her to come with us? Should we just grab her and go?" asked Richard.
"No, the best thing to do is to provide her with information that will enable her to make that decision."
"But, Keith! What if she doesn't decide to come home?" Libby cried.
"Libby, her mind is being reformed right now. She's believing everything these people tell her, most likely, and she's going to resist us at every turn. If we don't let her make her own decision, she may resent you and us for the rest of her life."
Libby took in a choky sob of air and leaned back against the seat, her arms folded. "Yeah, that sounds right. It's hard, though, because I know my mom and dad have just wanted to shake some sense into her lately."
Keith nodded. "My parents went through the same thing with Jo. We were all dealing with my grandmother's death, and Jo had been close to her. She went through a hard time, wondering why we humans have to die, and why we bother to do anything in life since we're just going to end. My parents were trying everything to keep her emotional distress under wraps, because the society my parents move in is very judgmental; they would have shunned her, or maybe all of us. They tried sending her to all kinds of doctors, but eventually she sought these people out. They were glad to have her there, probably because she could contribute so much money to their cause. But when my parents found out where she was, they had professionals go in and kidnap her. She spent months in what they call deprogramming, or trying to reverse the brainwashing. And all that time, I wasn't allowed to get close to her." He shook his head. "I was always the one she turned to, you know, whenever she needed to talk, and this time I was kept away from her. It hurt. It hurt a lot."
The three of them rode in silence the rest of the way, talking only to give directions. They drove down a very bumpy dirt road, and when Libby thought they must be lost, they saw a sign tacked to a tree that said "Yoneq's tribe". In the distance, they saw tents and some smoke from a fire. "This must be the place," said Richard as they pulled up into a clearing.
*"Whatcha Gonna Do" by Pablo Cruise