Stumbling along in my usual hit-or-miss fashion, I didn’t notice that the sidewalk came to an end suddenly. A narrow path led through weeds and bramble to a gray house almost hidden by tall trees and shrubs. The house was too far back for me to see the number, but the name on the mailbox near the road said R. Van Buren. This spooky place was where Roger lived. Uneasy, and kind of ashamed of myself for running after him this way, I turned around and headed back for the bright lights. This was no place to hunt anything except a rabbit.
“Miss Hale?” Roger’s voice. I jumped. “What are you doing here in the dark?” He appeared out of the darkness like a ghost.
“Just out for a walk,” I said, swallowing, but not so he could notice.
“You should keep to the lighted streets.”
“Yes, I know.” I hesitated, groping for something to say. Finally, “Is that your house up there?” An inane thing.
“It is.” No more. He just kept looking at me.
“It... it looks very lonely.” This was spontaneous, just popping out of me.
“Yes.” Roger lifted his head. The shadows did something odd to his face, made it look old and forlorn somehow. I put out my hand and touched his arm. Old or not, he was all there was at the moment. He took a quick breath and backed away. “It’s very dark,” he muttered. “Come, I’ll walk you back to the bridge.”
“I’ll be all right, please don’t bother,” I told him, smiling bravely in a chin-up fashion.
“It won’t be a bother, I assure you. You’re a very nice-looking young woman, Miss Hale. And a good secretary, too, by the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Thank you.” I send him a limpid look from beneath my lashes. We didn’t talk much after that. It wasn’t necessary. Most women talk too much. I don’t. Something else, my mother taught me.
When we reached the bridge, Roger stopped. “I think you’ll be all right now. And after this, young lady, don’t walk around in the dark by yourself.”
I turned to face him. It was now or never. Our hands touched, not by accident, and I swayed toward him, just enough. He pulled me close and pressed his cheek against the top of my head. I clung to him then. But something went wrong.
Suddenly his body trembled against mine and he pushed me away. Pushed me away, can you imagine that? As if there was something the matter with me. Startled, I looked up. Deep furrows lined his face and, good Lord, there were tears in his eyes. Tears! “What’s the matter?” I gasped. I’d never seen a man cry in my life, except my father when he was drunk.
Roger turned his face away and closed his eyes, as if trying to shut out something too horrible to believe.
“What’s wrong, Roger?” His first name just slid out of my mouth, not on purpose.
He opened his eyes, the tears were gone, but they’d left an extra brightness. He studied my hair, my eyes, my mouth, especially my mouth. “It’s nothing, Marta. I — felt faint for a moment, that’s all. Forgive me.” And before I could think of a word to say he whirled around and disappeared in the dark.
What was the matter? Had he just had a weak spell or was there something more? I puzzled over it all the way back to Nettie’s. My foot was just about to touch the first step of the porch when someone grabbed my shoulder, nearly sparing me to death. Christine, her eyes blazing. “Out for a walk?” she said, baring her teeth. But before I could answer, she leaned close. “Keep away from Roger or I’ll kill you,” she hissed and stalked off, leaving me there with my mouth hanging open, literally. Kill me?
I let myself into the silent house and like a cowed pup crept upstairs to my room. This was wild! Christine was hysterical, of course, but even so, I certainly never would have suspected her of being so theatrical. And Roger, what was his problem? It was a long time before I calmed down enough to go to sleep that night, I’ll tell you, either everybody was crazy or I was.
I woke up a little before dawn the next morning with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, as though something horrible had happened or was about to happen. Nettie was stirring around. I could hear her. She must have heard me, too, because she tapped at my door. “Are you sick, Marta?” I told her no and to come on in.
“Now dear, what is it? Something’s wrong. I can tell by your face.”
I had to confide in somebody and Nettie was the only person I had any confidence in so I told her all about the night before, though I didn’t say that Christine had actually threatened me. It sounded too ridiculous. And I didn’t say much about Roger’s faint.
Nettie came to life with a rattle of bracelets. She had them on from morning till night. “Leave Mr. Van Buren to Christine, Marta. He’s too old for you. There are many other men younger and more suitable for you. And if Christine loves him, be kind and let things be.”
“No one was kind to me. The girl who took Brad didn’t think about how I felt. And Brad didn’t either. Why should I play the big martyr?” I continued. “Besides, Roger doesn’t care anything for Christine.”
Nettie frowned. “Don’t be foolish, Marta. You’re confusing too very different situations.”
“I... I need someone, Nettie,” I said. And I did. Really.
“Not Roger Van Buren. Forget him, Marta.” The lavender head lifted, the old voice quavered. “Please, Marta, believe me. I know what is best for you.”
She’s old, I thought to myself, I shouldn’t be bothering her with my problems. I wanted to say something, to reassure her, to comfort her, but I didn’t. And I didn’t back down because of her either. In fact I dressed with extra care that morning. I put on a cherry-colored, lightweight wool that did things for my figure and hair. I have dark hair, really quite nice, if you don’t happen to prefer blondes.
Betty Lou was in the office when I got there with some special reports that she was going to help me with. “Do you have a new dress?” she asked me. No, I told her, I just hadn’t worn it to the office before.
She looked at me. “I suppose you think it will make Mr. Van Buren notice you,” she said, shaking her head. “How come you want a creep like that to notice you is beyond me.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?” I asked her. “If so, I’m listening.” What she said about Roger didn’t bother me. I knew Betty Lou didn’t like him. He was forever after her about not eating apples and candy bars in the office and all that. What pleased me is that at least she was talking like a human being instead of like something out of a third rate horror movie and I told her so. It was the wrong thing to say. She gave me one of those looks of hers and ran out of the office, almost knocking Roger down in the process. He was just coming in.
“What’s the matter with Betty Lou?” he asked me, naturally. I shrugged. “Adolescence plus no fun,” I told him.
“I guess nature doesn’t intend for some of us to be happy,” Roger said, his voice catching a little.
I snorted. “There’s an old Chinese proverb that says you can’t prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair. And though I’m not an old Chinese, that’s what I believe.”
Roger threw back his head and laughed. It was an odd sound, uncontrolled, as though it was something he seldom did. “What a delightful young woman you are, Marta,” he gasped. “I think you’re right. We’ve all become too solemn around here.” He took a breath. “Will you go for a drive with me tonight, no, not tonight, tomorrow night? Friday?”
I kind of gulped and nodded. I wasn’t surprised exactly. But it had come pretty fast. I’d expected to work a little harder.