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"Do you think Philip and Betty Ann have that kind of love?" Jimmy asked.
I turned away.
"I don't know, Jimmy. She appears to love him very much."
"Well, I'm just happy now that things ended up the way they did—that you turned out to be his sister and not mine. I don't know if I would ever have found anyone else," he said.
"Oh, Jimmy." Half undressed, I sat on the bed.
"Hey . . . you're crying. Why are you crying?" he asked, sitting beside me and putting his arm around my shoulder.
"I'm just happy I'm with you and you're with me," I said. "Really I am."
He smiled, and we kissed.
That night we tried once more to have our baby. I couldn't have wanted it any more than I did when we made love this time, but after we were finished and had kissed and turned away from each other to sleep, I had this empty feeling inside, this knowledge that we hadn't found the magic moment yet. I began to wonder if we ever would again. It was a frightening thought. What if the only child I would have was the one I had had with Michael? It would surely break Jimmy's heart. He craved family so and was constantly inquiring as to whether Mr. Updike's detective had made any headway in his search for Fern. I couldn't tell him that we had stopped searching because we had run into one dead end after another. I didn't have the courage to tell him that the facts were simply inaccessible to us; it was the law, and Mr. Updike had advised me that to pursue it was verging on something illegal.
My mind was in such a turmoil, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes and tried, I saw Philip standing in my nearly completed new bedroom, gazing licentiously at my vanity table and tub—but in my imagination I saw myself in the tub, taking a bath. I lifted my head, and suddenly there was Philip in the doorway, smiling down at me. I tried to get him to leave, but he stepped in further and offered to wash my back. I couldn't help but imagine him forcing himself on me again, running that washcloth over my shoulders and then down and over my breasts.
I moaned, frightened that these thoughts had even entered my mind. But it wasn't my fault, I told myself. It was Philip's. Somehow, slyly, surreptitiously, with the stealth of a fox in a chicken coop, he was creeping through the shadows and entering my world, first in little ways, and then bursting in upon me, upon my very thoughts.
I couldn't help but relive his sexual attack on me in the shower. I had been so frustrated, so trapped; I had been unable to shout out for fear I would bring attention. In the end I had been unable to hold him off.
And here I was feeling muzzled once again. I was afraid to mention anything to Jimmy, terrified of what he would do if he discovered any of this. In my heart I sensed he had some suspicions that just hadn't found their way into words yet. But someday they would, and when that day came . . . I groaned just imagining the crisis.
"Dawn?" Jimmy said. "Are you all right?"
"What? Oh, yes. I just had a bad dream," I said. "What was it about?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm all right. Really," I said.
He kissed me to reassure me, and then I did finally fall asleep, hoping that somehow I could put these fears to rest.
But one afternoon late in the week Philip wandered into my office and sat down. When I asked him what he wanted, he said nothing in particular; he just wanted to watch me work for a while. I sat back, unable to hide my annoyance.
"I don't think well under glass," I said. "Really, Philip, if you have nothing to do, why don't you go visit Mother? She's the one who's on pins and needles these days and could use your company."
Mother just dreaded the thought of attending Philip's wedding now that she knew for sure that Clara Sue and Charlie would be there. She was positive Clara Sue would do something terrible again, just as she had done at Philip's graduation, and embarrass the family. But despite her reticence, she couldn't help but be intrigued with the gala event. She went out of her way to find the most expensive, and most striking new gown. She had her personal hairdresser experiment with a half dozen different styles until she settled on one. Every day so far during the entire week before the wedding she had had facial treatments. She went on an intensive diet because she thought her waist was a little wide and her arms a little flabby. One day she was in a panic because she thought she saw the beginnings of a double chin. She came to the hotel to have me confirm it wasn't so.
"Are you kidding?" Philip cried out, laughing at my suggestion. "Mother would simply pile on her complaints and recommendations about the wedding. We would drive each other crazy. No, thank you."
"Well, I can't work with you just sitting there, Philip," I insisted. He nodded and rose from his seat.
"Your house is looking beautiful," he said, not with any real enthusiasm.
"Thank you."
"Actually, I'm kind of upset about it. Now that Clara Sue's gone and Mother's remarried and you're moving out, everyone will be gone from the family section but me," he complained.
"You have Betty Ann," I reminded him. "And I'm sure you will be raising a family. You should be happy you have all
that privacy."
"Yes," he said, looking down at the floor. Then he looked up at me and smiled, but it was a queer, shadowy smile.
"You haven't asked me about it, so I imagine you don't know where we're going for our honeymoon, do you?" he asked.
"No." I sat back, a ripple of apprehension creeping up my spine. "Where?"
