Chris (11 page)

But she had promised. And she knew Carol loved her. And she needed the trip anyway. And... And if she didn't go, Chris told herself, she might spend the rest of her life wondering about what she could have had with Carol. Learning to resent Dizz, even to hate her, when she climbed into her solitary bed and slept her lonely sleep. Wondering till the day she died if it wouldn't have worked out better with Carol.

Chris remembered painfully the hideous result of last night's attempt with Dizz. And the bitterness she held in her heart. And the softness and the sweetness of Carol. She knew she had to find out.

"Honey," Chris said, "I thought I'd take a trip down to the Inlet this weekend while you're off seeing your family. I want to see if I still know how to swim."

"Will you need any help?" Dizz asked.

"Not really. It would be fun to have you along. But it's probably the last chance you’ll have to get home for awhile." Oh, Chris, she thought, you're such a shrewdie.

"That's right. I hadn't thought of that" Dizz admitted. "I guess I can trust you for a weekend. How are you going?"

"I thought I'd rent a car," Chris said. "That's the easiest way."

"I'll ask George if you can borrow his. I don't think he'd mind," Dizz said.

Chris did not protest. Things were confused enough without adding to it.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Dizz said, getting up and starting for the door. "We didn't get much sleep "last night."

Chris blew her a kiss. "Good night" she said.

Dizz paused just outside the door. "Chris," she said, the old ice creeping back into her voice. "I didn't mean to get sloppily sentimental awhile ago. I've always told you that you were free to leave at any time."

"Forget it," Chris said. She knew the disappointment was audible. She had enjoyed the moment's delusion of foreverness. But Dizz didn't know the word.

Chris got up from the bed and picked up the cup of coffee. It was cold. She put it down.

Somehow, she thought, it would straighten out. She could work something out with Carol. And Dizz. It would have to be all right with Dizz. She needed Dizz more than she would ever need anything else.

Chris walked through the archway and into the solarium. She snapped on the lamp hanging on a cord above the desk and threw her jacket over the back of a chair.

It was just before nine, Saturday morning. Carol had not yet arrived. Considering the fact that they had been working fourteen hours a day, Chris was not surprised. She'd had trouble waking up herself.

She sat down at her desk and pulled over a thick folder of notes. Inside she found the checklist of data to be gathered. She read carefully through the list, checking off each item already covered. Everything was in order.

In three days she and Carol and the public library had amassed enough information to write a guide book to Tongariva and the Pacific islands in general. On Monday morning Jonathan would be expecting their report. He had taken care of the sea plane and diving equipment and clearance for the expedition. He'd spent a lot of money and he wasn't especially happy about it. Chris knew that her end of the deal had to be perfect.

Chris was satisfied that she and Carol had done a superior job. And glad there was little left to be done today. She was tired to death.

Not only had she been working hard. She had been under an emotional strain that kept her from sleep when she finally crawled into bed.

Carol had proved to be little short of perfection as a co-worker. They had exchanged few words during the long hours, and then their talk was strictly business. Both had been completely absorbed in the job at hand. Yet just when Chris found her head throbbing and her back beginning to ache, Carol was there with coffee and sandwiches and a smile.

Dizz had proved to be decidedly less cooperative. It was something beyond the usual chameleon moodiness. Chris had long since grown accustomed to the flickering warmth that changed abruptly back to the more usual chill of boredom and disinterest. But during these past three nights had been added a subtle flavoring of disgust and contempt that Chris had not known before.

Dizz did not believe that Chris was working until midnight. She hadn't said that in so many words—she wouldn't—but there was no warm supper when Chris got home; there wasn't even much pretense at civility. Dizz simply sat there on the couch, cold and serene, watching Chris, smoking, not saying a word. She had not been drinking. She was, indeed, sternly sober. And watching.

She was not listening when Chris spoke to her. She was not talking. And the one time Chris had made a move to kiss her, she had turned away in revulsion.

Alone and miserable in her bed, Chris had stared blankly at the ceiling until dawn came, until the alarm rang. And when she dared think at all, it was simply to pray that she could hold Dizz until they got away together. She dared not think that she could not win Dizz back.

And somehow it had gotten to be Saturday. In a half dozen hours she and Carol would be on their way to the Inlet in George's car. Dizz would bring the car around and leave her the keys. Not that she had said so—she had left a note on the kitchen table.

Chris heard the door close way out front and looked up, waiting for Carol to come into the room.

"Hi," Carol said, hurrying in and dropping her purse and gloves on the desk. "I didn't hear the alarm." She smiled at Chris and blew her a kiss.

"I gather," Chris said. "But I won't scold you."

Carol went quickly to the little burner and busied herself with making coffee.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," Carol said. "Have you?"

"No," Chris admitted. "I'll treat you to a big spread on the way down." She sighed and turned away from Carol. She did not want the girl to see the weariness and the strain.

"Honey, is anything wrong? You sound awful," Carol said. She was looking at Chris with genuine concern.

"Of course not," Chris said harshly.

"Well, excuse me, lady," Carol mocked. "I didn't mean to step on your corns."

Chris got up from the chair and crossed to stand and stare out the windows. It looked so peaceful out there in the tiny yard—the cold red bricks and the bare bleak maple, an old barrel and three paint cans with pink and yellow drippings. Nothing moving. No people. No women. No noise. Quiet, like at the bottom of the sea. It would be good to feel it again, the serenity and the peace of that quiet world.

Carol carried two cups to the desk and set them down. "Coffee," she said.

Chris drew a deep breath and straightened her sagging shoulders. She stepped over to the desk but did not sit down. "Carol," she said, "how do you feel about Dizz?"

"Frankly?"

"Frankly."

"From what I can gather that she's done to you, I could very easily despise her," Carol said. "But I accept her, like sort of a necessary evil. Because, though it lolls me to admit it, I'm afraid she's got you pretty well hooked. Why did you ask?"

"You’ll meet her today. She's bringing the car around." Chris frowned. "What makes you think she's got me so well hooked?" She felt hooked. But she didn't like the idea that Carol knew it.

Carol laughed. "Are you kidding?" she said. "But seriously, darling. Just the way you look in the morning, before you get down to work. The sadness and the misery. But I can't feel too sorry for you. If you didn't like it, you would have done something about it long before this."

Chris did not answer for several minutes. "It sounds lousy," she said. She knew what Carol said was true, but it hurt to admit it.

"Can you deny it?"

"I don't want to think about it," Chris answered. "We've got work to do."

For three hours they worked. It was just a matter of getting the data in order and adding a couple of maps. There was nothing missing, absolutely nothing. They knew everything about that island. Except—

"Well," Chris said, "all we need now is a pile of Glories."

She dropped the folder on the desk and turned to beam at Carol. "Thanks, kid. You've done a good job."

"Thank you, darling," Carol said. "It's been my pleasure."

In her enthusiasm Chris stepped forward and put her hands under Carol's elbows and lifted the girl high into the air. She pulled her close and kissed her quickly on the lips.

From the doorway an amused voice solemnly breathed, "Well!"

Chris very gently lowered Carol's feet to the floor. Both turned in the direction of the voice.

"I do hope I'm not intruding," Dizz said. She was smirking broadly.

"Of course not," Chris said. "Come on in. Dizz, this is Carol Martin." She nodded toward Carol. "Carol, Sheila Dizendorf."

Dizz stood aloof, calmly observing Chris' discomfort. In a powder blue suit and short coat to match, her hair blown soft by a brisk wind and her cheeks flushed pink, Dizz had never been more beautiful, nor more perfectly composed. She was, as always, master of the situation.

Carol was the first to move. She appeared completely relaxed and she smiled warmly at Dizz, waving her to a chair. Chris knew it was all a surface calm, but she approved. Dizz had a way of making her fizzle and die out. She felt something close to admiration for Carol for keeping her poise.

"Sit down," Carol said. "I was just going to fix some coffee."

Dizz crossed to a chair and sat down stiffly. She glared at Chris. "Thank you, Miss Martin," she said.

"Please call me Carol. Though I don't know how I'll ever remember to say Sheila," Carol said. "Chris mentions you a thousand times a day, but it's always Dizz."

"Yes," Dizz said haughtily. "She has some peculiar habits."

"But I think it's adorable," Carol blurted.

"So I gather," Dizz boomed.

Chris turned her head quickly to hide the smile. She sat down on the stool and swivelled to watch the two women. She felt like she was about to see somebody tossed to the lions. And she had the uneasy feeling she would be the person.

Dizz took a key in a leather case from her pocket and dropped it on the desk. "The car's parked out front," she said to Chris. The black Thunderbird. All your gear's in the trunk. George helped me. I packed a basket of lunch and the big thermos of coffee."

Chris nodded. "Good," she said. "Did you bring my pea jacket?"

"Of course."

Carol put a cup of coffee, a container of sugar and a pint of milk on the desk beside Dizz. Then she carried a cup over to the counter.

"I hope I didn't put in too much milk," she said.

"No," Chris said. "It's fine."

Dizz raised an amused eyebrow.

Carol sat down near Dizz. Both of them looked straight ahead at Chris.

Chris shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

There was a dreadful silence in the room. Then, one by one, each found a moment's comfort in a coffee cup.

"Chris," Dizz said finally, "when shall I expect you back?"

"Monday about noon, I think," Chris said. "I plan to drive back at night. And since I have to see Jonathan at nine, I'll probably come directly here."

Chris watched Dizz glance aside at Carol. Carol was looking at Chris, smiling fondly.

"Yes," Dizz said. "I see. In that case I think I’ll stay over at home till Monday morning."

Chris had the creepy feeling that Dizz did see, all too well. She searched for words to set things right.

"And as soon as I get everything set up here, I'll rush home," Chris said. "I'm dead tired now and it'll be worse by Monday."

Dizz remained serene. "You probably won't get much sleep," she said.

Chris ran her long fingers through her hair. She wanted to reach out and shake Dizz. To knock that complacent look off her face. Bad enough to have a guilty conscience without having to stand that cold, disdainful air.

Carol stood up and picked up the folder. She opened the top drawer and slid the folder inside. She closed the drawer and turned to face Chris.

"Well, boss," she said, "if we're through for the day, I've got things to do." Her eyes were tender. She looked to Chris like somebody who'd just heaved a life line to a drowning man.

"If you want to wait a few minutes, I’ll drop you off," Chris said.

"No, thanks," Carol answered. "I've got some shopping to do downtown."

Dizz did not move. The look on her face was one of frank suspicion.

Chris helped Carol into her jacket and patted her on the shoulder. "See you Monday," she said.

Carol said her goodbyes and left the two of them alone. Neither spoke until the front door had slammed behind Carol.

"She's very attractive," Dizz said.

"Yes, she is," Chris said. "Is that what made you so friendly?" She was angry and she knew Dizz would hear it.

Dizz hesitated before she answered. Then she tilted her head and smiled that beguiling pussy cat smile. She stepped close to Chris and ran her long nails up the back of the girl's neck and into her hair. She pulled Chris' face down to her own and playfully traced the tip of Chris' nose with hers.

Chris shivered and pulled Dizz into her arms. She pressed her lips into the warm hollow of the girl's throat and with her tongue caressed it.

Dizz gasped and moved tight against Chris, their thighs hugging.

"Chris," Dizz whispered hoarsely, "we're in full view of the whole world."

"Uh huh," Chris murmured. "Worried?" She knew it could be unpleasant if anyone saw them. But she was much too engrossed to care.

"Yes," Dizz said. "You work here." She moved away from Chris. "I'll be waiting for you when you get home."

"That's a promise?"

"That's a promise."

Together they put away coffee cups and closed up the office for the weekend. They went out through the display rooms and into the hall.

"Shall I drive you out to Queens?" Chris asked.

"No, honey," Dizz said. "I'm meeting my brother at his place. I’ll take a cab."

"Need any money?"

Dizz shook her head. "No. I've got plenty," she said. "And darling, I'm sorry about Carol. I've been doing some off-color thinking lately."

"You've managed to convey that impression," Chris said. "As I said, she's just a friend."

"That's a promise?"