“Yes.”
“Esther does know me better than that.”
“What Esther knows and what she feels are often miles apart.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“About what?”
“Come off it, Ralph. We’re friends.”
“Well, as one friend to another, I suggest we go back to the lodge and get some sleep.” Turee took a couple of tentative steps toward the door, but when he saw that Harry didn’t intend to follow, he turned around and came back. “We can’t stay here all night, old boy.”
“Can’t we?”
“Look, Esther’s crazy suspicions shouldn’t make the least difference to anyone. Now come on, let’s go back to the lodge. There’s nothing more we can do here.”
“Yes, there is,” Harry said. “I’m going to phone Thelma.”
“Why?”
“You don’t have to have a reason for phoning your own wife. Besides, I want to find out if Ron ever showed up at the house.”
“But it’s late, Thelma will be asleep. She may not even hear the phone.”
“It’s right beside our bed.”
“Go ahead and call her then. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“What I mean is, if I phoned my wife at this hour of the morning she’d think I was drunk, and the next time I was invited to come up here with the fellows she’d raise a hell of a smell.”
“Thelma’s not like that. She wants me to have a good time. She’s a remarkably unselfish woman.”
Turee didn’t argue. It was one of Harry’s most ingratiating qualities, to attribute to other people the virtues he himself possessed.
As Harry slid into the phone booth and closed the door, Turee watched anxiously, thinking, God, suppose Esther’s right for once and Ron’s there with Thelma... No, that’s impossible. Thelma’s just as crazy about Harry as he is about her.
He began to whistle, almost inaudibly, I’m just wild about Harry.
Three
Thelma was not asleep, as Turee had predicted. She answered the phone on the second ring and her voice sounded alert, as if she’d been expecting the call. Or one like it.
“This is the Bream residence.”
Harry laughed. “I know that, sweetheart.”
“Oh, it’s you, Harry.”
“None other. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“No.”
“Are you glad to hear from me?”
“Of course.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Cross my heart,” she said flatly, “and hope to die. How you enjoy playing games, Harry. You’re like a child. But isn’t it too late for games? Oughtn’t children to be in bed? I think so. Tomorrow,” she added, “tomorrow you can play all the games you like.”
In their three years of marriage she had never addressed him in such a wearily patronizing manner. Harry colored, as if his face had been slapped. “Thelma, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true. I know it’s not true. What’s happened, Thelma? Tell me. Tell Harry.”
Her only response was a sigh. He could hear it quite plainly; it was long and deep and sad.
“Thelma. Listen to me. If you want me to come home, I will. I’ll start out right this minute.”
“No! I don’t want you to come home!”
“What’s the matter, Thelma? Are you feeling all right?”
Again she made no reply. Harry felt smothered by her silence. He pulled open the door of the phone booth a few inches and breathed in the new air deeply and rhythmically. With the door open Turee could overhear, but Harry didn’t care. He was not timid or embarrassed about sharing his troubles with his friends since he had so frequently shared theirs.
“I’m ill,” Thelma said finally. “I’ve been ill all evening.”
“Get a doctor. Get a doctor right away.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I know what’s the matter.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I can’t tell you. This isn’t — the time or place.”
“Look, Thel, take it easy. Lie down and relax. I’m coming home right away.”
“If you do, I won’t be here.”
“For God’s sake...”
“I mean it, Harry. I’ll run away. I’ve got to be alone for a while to think. Don’t come home, Harry. Promise me.”
“But I...”
“Promise me.”
“All right, I promise. I won’t come home, not tonight, anyway.”
She seemed relieved by his promise and when she spoke again her tone was quite friendly. “Where are you calling from?”
“A hotel in Wiarton.”
“Haven’t you been to the lodge yet?”
“Yes, but Turee and I drove back to find a phone so we could call Ron’s house.”
“Why on earth should you call Ron’s house at this hour?”
“To find out why he hasn’t arrived here.”
“He hasn’t arrived,” she repeated dully. “Is that what you said? Ron’s not there?”
“Not yet.”
“But he left here hours ago. He came before eight and I gave him your message and we had a drink together. And then...”
She stopped, and Harry had to urge her to continue. “And then what, Thelma?”
“I–I asked him — I begged him not to go up to the lodge.”
“Why?”
“Because I had this feeling when he came in — it was so strong I nearly fainted — I had this feeling.” She began to weep and the rest of her words were distorted by great choking sobs. “Oh, my God — warned — my fault — Ron’s dead — Ron — Ron...”
“What are you saying, Thelma?”
“Ron...” She repeated the name half a dozen times while Harry listened, his heart on fire, his face like stone.
Turee came over to the phone booth and opened the door. “Is anything the matter?”
“Yes. But I don’t know what.”
“Perhaps I can help.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let me try, anyway. Go and sit down, Harry, you look terrible.”
The two men exchanged places at the telephone and Turee spoke briskly into the mouthpiece: “Hello, Thelma. This is Ralph.”
“Go away.”
“Listen, Thelma, I don’t know what the situation is, but calm down for a minute, will you?”
“I can’t.”
“Why don’t you have a drink? I’ll hang on for a minute while you go and pour yourself...”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“All right, all right. just a suggestion.”
“It wouldn’t stay down anyway. I’m ill. I’ve been vomiting.”
“Maybe you have a touch of flu.”
“I haven’t got the flu.” She hesitated for a moment. “Is Harry standing anywhere near you?”
“No, he went outside.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can see him walking up and down on the veranda.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“‘What? What did you say?”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
“Well, for — well, I’ll be double-damned. That’s great, Thelma, that’s wonderful!”
“Is it?”
“Have you told Harry?”
“Not yet.”
“God, he’ll be thrilled to pieces when he finds out.”
“Maybe he will. At first.”
“What do you mean, at first?”
“When he starts thinking about it he won’t be so thrilled.”
“I don’t get the point.”
“Harry and I haven’t taken any chances along that line for over a year,” she said slowly. “Harry didn’t want me to have a baby, he was afraid complications might develop because I’m nearly thirty-five.”
“No method is foolproof. You could have had an accident.”