A ruling passion : a novel (76 page)

For a week she avoided Gus and would not answer her telephone. She missed him and was miserably unhappy; she burst into tears without warning, and lost interest in food. I have to talk to Sybille, she thought; this is terrible. I mustn't be like this; it's all wrong. But Sybille did not come to church on Sunday morning, and it was the next day that Lily went to her office and found her changed. No one else seemed to notice, but Lily was so close to her that she felt her anger the minute she walked into her office. She seemed so angry, in fact, that Lily thought she must have found out about her dinners with Gus, but after a few minutes she knew it was not that: something else

had happened that made Sybille hardly even aware of Lily. On the surface, she behaved quite normally, but Lily saw she was really turned inward, thinking, planning, plotting how to deal with something that enraged her so much it was consuming her.

There was no one to whom Lily could talk. She stood in the hallway outside Sybille's office, feeling uncertain and alone, almost afraid. She knew she ought to go to her own office and read her mail, and prepare for Wednesday's taping of "At Home with Reverend Grace," and next Sunday's sermon, and next week's talk to the Rotary Club of Arlington, but she couldn't concentrate on any of that. She wanted someone to tell her what to do.

She stood in the hallway. She was there only a minute before Gus walked by. And then she knew that was what she had been waiting for.

He shot a glance at Sybille's closed door. "Were you two talking about me?"

"No," she said, startled. "Why do you think we were?"

His face smoothed out. "I thought she might not like you and me being friends." He peered at her. "You okay? You want somebody to talk to?"

"Yes," said Lily, "thafs what I need more than anything."

He took her hand, holding it tightly against her instinctive pulling away until he felt her relax. "We'll go somewhere; shall I take you for a drive somewhere? The mountains?"

"Oh, yes, perfect." Lily felt the warmth of his hand clasping hers. I love you, she thought involuntarily. She wished he would put his arms around her and hold her close and make her feel safe, the way Sybille used to do, when they lived together in the Watergate. I love you, she thought again, and shivered. She was twenty-three years old and in her whole life she had said that to only three people: Rudy Dominus, Quentin Enderby and Sybille.

Gus talked about himself as he drove to the mountains, but Lily was not as attentive as usual and he fell silent as they ascended the Skyline Drive along the crest. Now and then he turned off to an overlook that gave expansive views of the misty Shenandoah Valley on one side, or the Virginia hunt country on the other. At one point he stopped and they got out to walk. The forest smelled fresh and cool, and sumacs and maples and other trees Lily could not identify made a roof over the hiking trail and the two of them as they walked. Lily felt free. "Isn't it wonderful!" she cried

Gus created a smile for her. He hated forests and walking; he hated

the mountains. He liked restaurants, motel rooms, television studios and the interiors of luxury automobiles. If he hadn't been convinced she was ripe, he wouldn't have come near the fucking Blue Ridge Mountains. "It's great," he said. "You talked about the mountains in one of your sermons."

"Oh, you remembered! Thank you for telling me, Gus; I love it when people remember what I say."

They walked on. Gus looked with distaste at the dust on his shoes. Lily plucked a small flower and held it tenderly, so as not to bruise the petals. A breeze lifted tendrils of her hair, and she turned up her face, breathing the scent of leaves and damp soil. "So much beauty in the world," she said, and looked at Gus with a shy smile. "You feel it, too; I know it. That means so much to me; sometimes I think it means everything. There's too much that I don't know—I'm scared by how much I don't know, and maybe that I'm wrong about things because of it—but if I can be with someone who cares about me and feels the way I do, it's not so scary. I need that so much; it hurts sometimes, needing to be with someone who understands how I feel, and feels the same way."

Gus took a deep breath. "Lily!" he cried. He grabbed her hands and fell to his knees before her on the dirt path. He was wearing good pants, but what the hell; this was the kind of thing that would get to her. "You're whafs beautiful in the world; thafs what I need. I need the same things you do. I need you to make the world beautiful and a place I can Hve in."

Dimly, Lily knew that was not poetry, but it did not matter. She'd been right: he was sincere and sensitive, he understood her, he was not afi-aid to tell her he needed her. Not so self-sufficient after all, Lily thought with a surge of pleasure.

"You have my friendship," she said, and her voice trembled. "You're my only friend. When you need me, I'm here for you."

That odd look of satisfaction flashed across Gus's face again, but it was hidden when he leaned forward, resting his forehead on Lily's breasts. She barely had time to realize what he was doing when, suddenly, he was even closer, his body pressing against hers, his arms around her waist. She felt his breath through her linen blouse, warm and moist on her nipples. "I love you," he said, the words muffled but clear enough for Lily to be sure of them. "Darling Lily..." He put back his head for a quick look at her face, then he went back to her breasts. "Sweet little girl... love..."

Her nipples were hard and her breasts heavy; she ached between her legs. She was terrified someone would see them; she was terrified of her body. Her heart pounded, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Tangled threads of bright color swam and surged in the darkness.

And Lily ran.

She ran frantically, trying to outrun her body, but she was not used to exercise and soon she slowed and stopped, leaning against a tree, panting. She began to cry. Gus found her that way, her head back against the tree trunk, tears covering her face.

"Don't do that," he said. "I didn't mean it. I mean, of course I meant I love you—you've got to believe I love you—but I didn't mean to make you cry. I forgot, you know, that I haven't any right to say those things to you. It was the forest, I guess, and the mountains —I love them, you saw that right away, and diey make me say things I shouldn't—and then there's all this beauty; you know what that does to me, too. So I forgot I shouldn't even be talking to you, much less touching you; you're so far above me, I haven't any right—"

'Tou do!" Lily cried, gulping through her tears. "You have every right to say anything you want; I'm not above you, what are you talking about? We're two people who... care about... each other..." She began to make small whimpering sounds. "Can we go back to the car?"

"Sure. It's a litde ways off; do you want... ?" He held out his hand. Lily hesitated, then took it, and they walked hand in hand through the forest. Like Hansel and Gretel, she thought. She giggled a little wildly and forced herself to stop, and then walked quiedy beside Gus, back to the turnoff where he had left the car.

"Shall I take you home?" he asked.

"Yes. Please."

He drove back the way they had come, to Thornton Gap and down from the mountains to the highway to Culpeper. His face was set; he was fi-owning and silent. Lily was sure he was angry, and she was as afi^aid of his anger as she was of herself. What had she wanted, up there on the mountain? His arms around her, yes, but also his mouth on hers, his body crushing hers. She had wanted him to make love to her.

V irginal Lilith Grace, chosen by God to survive, to be special and to do good, had wanted a man to make love to her.

She must not be very special if she wanted sex like everyone else. If God had known she was like that, he never would have helped her walk away unscathed from that terrible plane crash.

Rudy had told her to stay a virgin. Sybiile had told her she was chosen to do great things: to preach, to lead a huge congregation, to bring Graceville to fruition.

Sitting in Gus's car, Lily began to cry again. If she was ordinary, what would she do with her life? She didn't know how to do anything but preach.

"Ifs all right," he said angrily "We'll forget it."

And then she was terrified all over again. Darlin£f Lily.. . sweet little girl. .. love ... She thought she would die if she never heard Gus say that again. She huddled in the corner of the seat, confused and lost, wishing Sybiile were there. But she couldn't talk to Sybiile; how could she? She couldn't talk to anyone.

"Lily," Gus said hoarsely as he stopped the car in front of her house. He was frowning deeply. "I won't call you for a litde while, okay? We'll think about things. I love you and I really respect you and I want you to be happy and do your preaching because people need you." He put his hand under her chin and brought her tear-stained face up so she was looking at him through wide, helpless eyes. "We'll figure out something so we can be happy. Remember the mountain and all that beauty. And I'll talk to you on Wednesday. Okay?"

After a moment, Lily nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, and fled from his car.

But she did not go to the studio on Wednesday. For the first time since she had begun preaching, she telephoned from home and told the receptionist that she was sick and could not tape "At Home with Reverend Grace." Gus showed a rerun, with an announcement that Reverend Grace had been called away to help a church in trouble, and would be back the following week. That alerted Sybiile, forcing her out of the grip of rage that had held her since Saturday, when she had gone to pick up Chad for dinner. On Thursday morning she phoned Lily at home. "Whafs wrong with you? Have you seen a doctor?"

"No." Lily's voice was thin. "I just don't feel well. Sort of sick all over. I'm sorry, Sybiile, I know I should have come in, but I couldn't face it. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"You disappointed a few million people. You have a responsibility to them, Lily."

"I know. If s just... I feel so sick and I've got a headache and I feel like I'd throw up if I tried to talk. I just want to sleep all the time."

"I'm sending you a doctor. His name is—"

"No! I don't want a doctor! Sybiile, just leave me alone!"

Sybille's head snapped around as if she had been slapped. '^'Who do you think you're talkin£f to?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Lily was sniffling. "I didn't mean... I just want to be left alone. I'll be fine; I just need to sleep. I don't want anybody poking me. I mean..." She burst into sobs.

Sybille gripped the telephone. There was too much going on; she had too much to worry about. The Bakker scandal was growing, not fading; the media were like wolves, baying at the door of every evangelist; Floyd Bassington grated on her nerves, but she couldn't get rid of him yet. But all that faded before the enormity of the scene on Nick's terrace, burned into her memory. It was like a wound that made everything she did hurt. And now Lily. What the hell was wrong with her, that she had to choose this week to mess up Sybille's life even more? The silence dragged out. "Have you written your sermon for Sunday?" she asked at last.

"No. I don't... I don't know if FU be there."

'Tou'll be there!" Sybille screamed. She leaped to her feet. 'Tou'll be there if I have to drag you by your hair! You've got a job to do, and you'll fucking do it, is that clear or do I have to repeat it?"

Lily hung up.

Sybille held the receiver away from her, staring at it, then flung it to the floor. It dragged the telephone with it, and the crash reverberated in the office. No one came, not her assistant, not her secretary. They were used to sounds of breakage from her office.

She dragged the telephone to her desk, made sure it was still working, and called Gus to her office. When he walked in, she was standing behind the desk. '"What's wrong with Lily?"

He looked surprised. "I thought you'd know. She called yesterday, said she was sick and couldn't tape the show."

She sat down, pointing to a chair, and Gus took it. "She didn't call me. How was her sermon last Sunday?"

"Terrific. Same as always. I wondered where you were."

"Something came up; I knew you could handle the show. Have you talked to her since then?"

Gus looked even more surprised. "I thought you would have."

"I didn't ask for comments; just answer my question."

"Right. Sure. Uh, no, I haven't, uh, talked to her."

Sybille looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Uh, nothing."

Anger boiled through her. "God damn it, you're dancing around,

dying to tell me something. Well, what the hell is it?" She watched him nibble on a fingernail. "I'm waiting!" she said.

He shrugged. "If you want to know... I've seen her a few times. Dinner, walks in the woods, you know, romantic things. She likes me. So much she got sick."

"You son of a bitch."

He shrugged again. "She was lonely, you know that? She's just a baby, Syb; she doesn't know a fucking thing."

"You son of a bitch."

"For Christ's sake, I was just keeping her company. Somebody had to."

"Did you screw her?"

"Are you kidding? The reason she's all cut up is she wants it but she thinks ifd be wrong or sinful or dangerous or whatever. We didn't do anything. I held her hand."

"Did you talk about me?"

"Some. Sure. We talked about lots of things."

Sybille thought of them talking about her, laughing at her, plotting against her. No wonder Lily had talked back to her—and hung up on her! She thought she didn't need Sybille; she had a man.

And Valerie had Nick. And Valerie had Chad. And Valerie had everything.

She felt she was about to explode. Too much was happening. Why wouldn't they all go away and leave her alone so she could get things organized her own way again?

Lily will. She'll go away, she'll leave you if you don't do something. She'll be taken away by this stupid bastard who thinks he can get her with his prick after all the years I've worked on making her what she is.

She poured a glass of water from the decanter on her desk, spilling some of it until she managed to get her hand still, and sipped it, letting Gus wait while she tried to concentrate on what to do. He was probably right: Lily had made herself sick because she wanted sex and was scared to death of it. But there was something else that Gus didn't know, because he was too taken up with himself The real reason Lily got sick was because she loved Sybille more than anyone and she couldn't stand having secrets from her. Gus had talked her into having a secret, and it had made her sick.