Facets

Chapter 14 #3

Pam spent the weekend in Cutter’s bed. He made love to her over and over again, forcefully sometimes, tenderly at other times.

Having set aside his qualms, he seemed bound to prove how much he loved her, and she didn’t complain.

She surprised herself with her own hunger, which was barely sated when Sunday afternoon arrived.

By that time she had told him that she was moving into the dorm, although she hadn’t said why.

She didn’t want him to get angry at John, when it would only be self-destructive.

More than that, she didn’t want the smallest reminder of John when she was with Cutter. Their time together was too precious.

In the weeks that followed, they saw each other several times a month, either in Cutter’s cabin or in one nameless motel or another on the outskirts of Boston.

Knowing he was waiting for her, Pam didn’t mind the restrictions of dorm life.

She had no interest in dating the boys at school and was content to spend her time studying.

When she checked out of the dorm for weekends, she gave the name of a friend. John didn’t ask questions.

Things were more tricky over the summer, when John insisted she work in the Boston office.

She had to lie directly to him. She might have felt guilty had he not been making her miserable.

In his dark, silent way, he taunted her.

When she was at home, he made his presence felt.

Although he didn’t try to touch her again, the threat was always there.

That was justification enough for her lies, she reasoned.

If her life had been dichotomous when she was a child, it was even more so now.

During the week, she was a dutiful office gofer.

She kept to herself when John was at home and slept only in bits and snatches, always with a plumber’s wrench close at hand.

On the weekends when she was with Cutter, she was in another world.

They did whatever took their fancy as long as it didn’t involve the risk of discovery.

That meant staying near the cabin when Pam was in Maine and steering clear of Beacon Hill when Cutter was in Boston.

Pam didn’t mind. As long as she was with Cutter, she was happy.

She loved him more each time she saw him and was sure he felt the same.

So she easily lied when John pointedly asked, “Have you seen Cutter Reid?”

“No.”

“Simon saw your car taking his turn last weekend.”

“Simon’s lying.”

“I don’t want you seeing him.”

She schooled herself to indifference. “Why would I want to see him?”

“Because I don’t want you to,” John answered with a menacing look. “Stay away from him. I’m warning you. Stay away from him.”

The warning fell on deaf ears. Much as Pam loved Marcy, much as she loved the house in Maine, Pam loved Cutter more. Being with him was as vital to her as breathing.

Summer ended and she went back to school. Aside from being able to sleep at night, little changed. She studied as hard as she could and lived for the weekends with Cutter.

Then, on the day after Thanksgiving, Tommy Willow, Marcy’s seventeen-year-old half-brother, bludgeoned his father to death with the handle of a rusty water pump.

It was a crime of passion, but a willful one, prompted by one too many instances of violence on Jarvis’s part—and it gave Pam an excuse to go north.

A week later, Marcy came to see her at the dorm, looking as though she’d been through hell. “He knows,” she whispered as soon as the door to Pam’s room was closed.

Pam had assumed that Marcy’s anguish had to do with Tom’s predicament. “Who knows?”

“John. He knows you been seeing Cutter.” She covered her face and started to cry.

“He asked me straight out, and I told him, Pammy. Didn’t know what else to do.

He said that if I didn’t tell the truth, he wouldn’t help Tom.

He’s payin’ for the lawyer. We could never do it ourselves, and without it Tom goes to prison.

He’s a good boy, but he’s never had much of a chance, and if he’s sent away, it would kill Ma.

So when John asked, I told him that you been seeing Cutter.

” She wept softly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. ”

For a quick minute, Pam felt betrayed. Then she thought about Marcy’s situation and her own, and the choices she might have made if the tables were turned, and she couldn’t remain angry.

Upset, yes, and frightened—very frightened.

She put her arm around Marcy as much to steady herself as to offer comfort.

“How much does he know?”

Marcy sniffled. “Just that you see Cutter in Maine. I told him I don’t know what you do when you’re at school.” She raised fearful eyes. “He’ll do something. He’s an evil man.”

Pam knew that all too well. Sinking down on the bed, she gave Marcy a pleading look.

“I can’t stop seeing Cutter. He’s my life.

” Then the unfairness of it all hit her again—her father’s senseless death, her mother’s hospitalization, John’s tyranny.

With a hard swallow, she squared her jaw.

“I’m nearly eighteen. I can do what I want, and I want to be with Cutter.

If John has trouble with that, that’s his problem. ”

John kept her on pins and needles for two days before showing up at the dorm. In a private corner of the living room there, he confronted her.

“I told you not to see him, but you did it.” He kept his voice low, but it was no less deadly than his look. He wore an impeccably tailored business suit that added to his aloof demeanor. “I warned you, Pam. I even asked you if you’d seen him, and you lied. That wasn’t very nice.”

She thought of lying again, but it was too late for that. "I love him.”

His lips curled. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“I love Cutter.”

“Then unlove him, because it’s over.”

She shook her head. “I’m seeing him.”

“Over my dead body.”

“What is it you hate so about him? He’s good, and he’s kind. He works hard. He keeps up the morale of the others. Is it because of that that you hate him? Or are you still sore because Daddy liked him?”

“The man is a waste.”

“Daddy didn’t think so. He wanted to leave him Little Lincoln.”

She scored with that one, if the muscle that twitched in John’s jaw meant anything. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard the two of you talking once. Arguing. Daddy wanted Cutter to have Little Lincoln. Why didn’t he get it?”

“The old man must have changed his mind,” John said. He didn’t blink, but came close before catching himself. “He must have realized what a mistake it would have been. Cutter Reid is trash. He’s nothing, he’s going nowhere, and I’ll be damned if he’ll have you.”

Pam was infuriated by the insults. “He already has,” she informed John, uncaring when his eyes grew darker and more vicious.

He was very quiet for a minute. “Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get him on rape.”

“It wasn’t rape.”

“You’re a minor. I’ll get him on a corruption charge.”

“I begged him for it.”

“The court won’t give a damn. You’re a minor. He violated you.”

“What he did was beautiful. What you did was the violation.”

John went rigid. Pam had never seen him quite so angry. “Don’t you ever,” he muttered, “ever say that again.”

But she was fighting for her life. “I’ll say that and more if you bring Cutter to court. I’ll embarrass you, John. It’ll all come out.”

He gave her a look of pure hatred, and for a minute she wondered if he’d lose control. In the next minute, though, he straightened his shoulders and started for the door.

She had fought fire with fire. Suddenly she wondered if she’d played her cards wrong. Nothing was settled. She went after him. “Where are you going?”

“Someplace where I don’t have to look at you. You disgust me.”

“That’s nothing new—”

He whirled on her so quickly that she fell back a step. “What’s new is that I’ve sold the house.”

She sucked in a breath. “You didn’t.”

“As soon as I heard you were seeing him.”

“To who? Who did you sell it to?” She’d just buy it back.

“It’s none of your affair. Nothing about Timiny Cove is your affair anymore.”

“It is!” she cried, her heart hammering wildly. “I loved that house! It was mine!”

“At my discretion. But you blew it. I gave you fair warning, and you blew it.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You hated it. You wanted to sell it all along. You waited until you knew it would hurt the most, then you used me as an excuse. You’re a sadist, John.”

“Sadist or not, I’m your legal guardian.”

“Not for much longer,” she argued, and the meaning of that hit her. “I’m nearly eighteen. That’s why you did it, isn’t it? Once I’m of age, I can fight you.”

“You can try, but you won’t get very far.

I run things around here. What I say is law.

” He raised a finger in front of her nose.

“And I say that you’ll keep your goddamned mouth shut and behave.

You won’t call Cutter Reid. You won’t see Cutter Reid.

Because selling the house is for starters.

If I catch you anywhere near Timiny Cove or Cutter Reid, I’ll can him from the mine. ”

Pam swallowed the thick knot in her throat. “You wouldn’t do that. He’s a leader there. He sticks up for the others. They respect him. Fire him, and you’ll have a rebellion on your hands.”

“Not,” he said, punctuating his words with jabs to her chest, “if I fire every goddamned miner he’s ever championed right along with him.

” His hand formed a fist and fell to his side.

“And I’ll do it, Pam. Times are hard. The old guys are dead weight.

For every one of them, there’s another able-bodied man dying to work.

Don’t think I don’t control the hiring and firing.

And don’t think you can sneak off and see Cutter Reid without my knowing, because I’ll be watching.

I’ll have people listening in to his phone calls—”

“That’s illegal.”

“Keep your mouth shut!” he roared, then quickly lowered his voice. “Judge Nowell, in Bangor, is a friend. He’ll make it legal with few questions asked. And it’s perfectly legal to hire a private investigator. You’ll have someone on your tail every time you leave this dorm.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Try me.”

She didn’t know if she dared, which made the agony that much worse. “Don’t do this,” she cried softly.

“Don’t see Cutter.”

Desperate, she clutched at his arm. “But I love him.”

He shook her off. “Then you’re a fool. He’s only after the name, don’t you see? He tried to get what he could from the old man, but he came up short, so now he’s shooting for you.”

“That’s not true,” she said without any doubt. “He loves me.”

“He loves who and what you are.”

“He loves me.”

“You’re his ticket out, Pam, only you’re too stupid to see it.” He was in control again, speaking with the voice of authority. “I know how guys like that work. They latch on to a good thing, get what they can, then move on to greener pastures.”

“But he hasn’t gotten a thing from me.”

With a sneer, John looked her up and down. “That wasn’t what you said a minute ago.”

She didn’t have to remember Palm Beach to feel dirty again. His look was lewd enough to do it. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the feeling. “I’ve never given him money or tried to get a promotion for him. I haven’t given him a thing. So why’s he hanging around?”

“Because this is all part of the plan. First he seduces you, then he makes you dependent on him physically, then he starts hitting you up for favors.”

“Is that how you work?” she blurted.

He slapped her hard across the face.

Her hand flew to the spot, but she was more aware of the tears in her eyes. They were a sign of weakness, which was the last thing she wanted to show John. So she said, “Did I hit it right?”

“You have a fresh mouth. I should have done that years ago.”

“If you had, I’d have reported you for child abuse.”

“For a slap across the face? I think not.”

“But you’ve got it in you for more,” she lashed back, “and we both know it. You have a mean streak. Deep down, under that expensive suit of yours, you’re no better than a street fighter.”

Before she could move from his reach, he closed a large hand around a fistful of her sweatshirt and hauled her close.

“And you,” he said in a fury of clenched teeth, “are a bitch. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to see you. Just stay here and study. Stay away from Maine. And stay away from Cutter Reid. If you don’t, you’ll have yourself to blame for what happens. Do I make myself clear?”

“Let go of me.”

He hoisted her higher. “Do I make myself clear?”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Now, are we in agreement about the other? Do you understand what I expect of you?”

“I understand that as soon as I’m legally of age, I can tell you to fuck off.”

His nostrils flared at her choice of words, but that was the only satisfaction she got.

“Wrong, sweetheart.” He twisted his hand to lift her even higher, while he put his mouth by her cheek and spoke with lethal quiet.

“What I’m saying has nothing to do with age.

It has to do with power. I have it, you don’t.

I control the trust fund, I control the stock.

You won’t have a voting seat on the board until you’re twenty-five, and by that time I’ll have the board stacked my way.

So the best you can do when you turn eighteen is run away, and I won’t be able to bring you back.

” He took a deep breath, seeming to inhale her essence before spitting it out in a contemptuous snarl.

“If you want to run away, be my guest. I don’t want you.

” Releasing her forcefully, he turned on his heel and left.

Pam went to see her mother the next day.

She sat quietly with her, not saying much, staring blindly out at the gray December landscape.

After a time, she took her hand. It was pale and delicate, not quite limp, not quite directed, an apt representation of Patricia herself.

The longer Pam looked at it, the more carefully she traced the fragile webwork of veins, the more devastated she felt.

She was thirteen again, lost and alone and frightened because everything that had been good in her life was being taken away.

And suddenly it didn’t matter that she was nearly eighteen or that Patricia was to be protected.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Pam bent over that hand and began to cry.

“I don’t know—what to do—things are so wrong—I need help—Mommy.”

She wept softly, losing track of time in her grief. Somewhere in its midst, she felt Patricia’s fingers close around hers, and she held on for dear life.