Chapter 13 #3
That wasn’t at all how Pam imagined it. “You’re wrong. I may go to college, and I’ll surely go into the business, but I’m not getting married so quickly.” She tipped up her chin. “I’m waiting for you.”
“Waiting for what?”
“You to get married.”
“I won’t ever.”
“Then I won’t either.”
“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”
“No more crazy than your not getting married or not going back to school or not getting a better job if that’s what you want. Not that you need a better job. The one you have now is just fine. It’s honest and it’s important.”
“You say that because you’re young and idealistic.”
“For God’s sake, Cutter, you’re only seven years older than I.”
“Seven years and a lifetime.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
He regarded her for a long time. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“What I’m trying to say.”
“You’re saying that I’m going places and you’re not, but you’re wrong.”
Coming away from the sink, he took her chin in his hand.
His voice vibrated with feeling. “I’m saying that if things were different, if I hadn’t thrown it all away because I was young and dumb and scared, I’d have a chance with you now.
You’re the only girl I’ve ever met who I’d think of marrying, but I’m all wrong for you. ”
Pam’s heart had started to pound against her ribs. “No—”
“You’re poised and polished. You’ve got money.
You’ve got class and breeding.” His thumb brushed her mouth.
She felt its touch deep inside her. “Me, I’ve got nothing but this house, a pickup, and a job.
Sure, I’ve got a little money in the bank, but not so much that it would make a difference.
We’re from opposite sides of the track.”
“There’s no track here,” she argued, nearly breathless because he was so close to her. “That’s what Daddy proved. He had money, but he was always one of the miners, and he was happiest that way. I’m the same. I’m happiest when I’m up here.”
Cutter seemed distracted following the movement of his thumb on her mouth. “You won’t be. Not forever.” He took a shaky breath. “There are times when I wish—”
She was barely breathing now. “Wish what?”
His thumb skimmed the new glow on her cheek.
“What, Cutter?”
“There are times—” he faltered, brought his thumb all the way around her cheek to her jaw, then went on in a smoky tone, “times when I wish I could take you away someplace where it wouldn’t matter who you were or who I was—” His voice broke off, but his eyes stayed on her mouth.
Pam had kissed and been kissed before. But she’d never felt the sudden need for both that she felt then.
Cutter stepped back.
Grabbing his hand before it reached his side, she carried it to her mouth and held tight. Her eyes were wide and pleading.
But he shook his head.
“Why not?” she whispered.
“I won’t start something I can’t finish.”
“You can finish it.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”
“You can, Cutter. I want you to.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes came open, dark and dangerous. “I want to do more than that.”
“You can.”
Suddenly his hands were against her scalp, immobilizing her head while his heat immobilized her body. “Listen to me, Pam. We’re not playing games here. Making love is serious business.”
“I know. Lots of my friends have—”
“Have you?”
“With the guys at home? No way!”
“So you’re a virgin.”
“I want to do it with you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“No!”
“It’s okay, really it is.”
“No!” He took a breath. “No. And if you can’t accept that, we won’t be able to see each other. Is that what you want?”
She felt teary. “You know it isn’t.”
“Then I don’t want to hear any more about it. We’ve discussed it. We’ve decided. It’s done.” He looked at her for a minute longer, then, swearing softly, hugged her hard. “You’re enough to drive a sane man mad, Pam.”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy breathing him and feeling him, storing up memories for the time when she was back home.
Those memories came in handy in the weeks that followed.
Seeing no way out of her predicament, Pam spent more time at home than ever before.
Her room became her haven. She talked on the phone some with her friends, but the frivolity of it was gone.
She slept some, daydreamed some, brooded some.
Mostly she studied. John had put the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, and she felt it keenly.
She didn’t see him much at first. True to his word, he seemed to have stopped playing watchdog. He had told her the rules and was doing whatever it was he did with his time while she abided by them. If anyone was her guard, it was school. Her midterm report would be telling.
Her grades rose dramatically. Pam was relieved to know she could do it, and in that sense the pressure eased. It didn’t go away, though. John wasn’t satisfied simply to know that she could do well; he wanted her to do it on a regular basis. He made it clear what would happen if she didn’t.
He also made it clear that he was pleased with her progress.
She suspected it was his own cleverness that pleased him most—he had effectively, and painlessly on his part, brought her to heel—but the fact that he was less odious than usual was some solace.
He took her to dinner at the Ritz when she received those first improved grades, even invited her to several business functions.
He took to stopping by her room when he came home from work, then again before he went to bed, and while she told herself that he was just checking up on her, there seemed more to it. He was actually being pleasant.
“How’s it going with Mrs. Ditmar?” he asked one night. Mrs. Ditmar was the American-literature teacher with whom Pam had locked horns at the start of the year.
Pam was propped against the headboard of her bed. A pencil was in her hand, a notebook on her lap, a textbook beside her. Wary as ever at John’s appearance, she held the pencil more tightly. “Not bad. She’s mellowed, I think. Or maybe I’m just getting used to her style.”
“That was a nice paper you wrote for her last week.”
“You read it?”
He nodded. “You left it on top of your books in the kitchen. I always liked Steinbeck. The Grapes of Wrath was long—all my friends complained—but it was my favorite.”
“I liked it, too.”
“That came through in the paper. You write well, Pam. Clear and concise. You organize your thoughts nicely.”
She nodded her thanks and looked down at her notebook. She felt awkward, not quite sure if he was being patronizing and in any case not knowing what to say or do.
“I got a call from Jennifer’s mother before.” As Pam looked up at him, he went on, “She wondered if we’d reached a decision on spring break. You didn’t tell me they invited you to their villa on Nevis.”
“I didn’t tell you because I don’t want to go. Jennifer started mentioning it last fall, and she won’t let it rest. I’ve given her every excuse in the book.”
“So I gathered. Her mother said that if I was worried, she’d see that you put in some time every day studying so you’ll make the honor roll.” He arched a brow. “That’s going a little too far, don’t you think?”
“I guess, but I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Why don’t you want to go?”
She began to doodle on her notebook. “Jennifer’s been getting on my nerves lately. She’s so silly sometimes and we’re not that close anymore. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to use her to get to the Caribbean, when I wouldn’t even want to go on a weekend trip to New York with her.”
“How about a weekend trip to New York with me? I thought I’d go down to see Hillary. We could do some shopping, maybe take in a show. What do you think?”
Pam didn’t know what to think. He’d never offered to take her away before. She searched his face for some sign of teasing or sarcasm or even treachery, but he looked perfectly sincere. “Uh, won’t I be in the way? I mean, you’ll want to spend time with Hillary.”
“I could take a suite at the Pierre. If you want, we could even go down to Palm Beach from there. I can always drum up some business while you lie in the sun.”
She wavered. The last person she had imagined vacationing with was John.
But she loved New York. And she loved Hillary.
And she loved the idea of working up a tan.
She had hoped to spend part of the vacation in Maine, but only part.
Being with Cutter, while necessary to her survival, brought an odd kind of torment now.
It might be nice to have a diversion from that.
“You have two weeks,” John pointed out.
“I really should study,” she pointed out right back.
“You’re studying plenty here.”
“But if I don’t make honor roll—”
“Going away for spring break won’t affect that. It’s not like you’ll be partying all night and waking up every morning hung over.” He seemed to catch himself, and for the first time his expression darkened. “Unless you think you’ll be bored.”
“Of course not. John, I don’t live to party, and I’ve never once been hung over.”
The darkness eased. With its passing, she almost imagined he had been hurt to think she might not want to go. Given that they hadn’t been a family for years, it was a fanciful thought.
“I’d like to go to New York,” she surprised herself by saying. “And Palm Beach. I’ve never been there. It would be fun.”
A good deal of Pam’s fun lay in anticipating the trip.
In a school as private and elite as hers was, everyone went away for spring break.
Most went with their families, and Pam had always envied them.
This time, she was looking forward to a family trip of her own.
“My brother and I are going to New York, then on to Palm Beach,” she told whoever wanted to know.
It didn’t matter that her brother had been her enemy for most of her life; there was something right about being with family.