Grass Roots (31 page)

There was mail on the desk, most of it ignorable. Two pieces weren’t.

The first was from the court, and he ripped it open.

Dear Will, Elton has recovered and is back in form, but in the meantime, my calendar is extremely overcrowded, and I don’t see how I’m going to be able to do justice to a murder trial during this session.

I’m inclined to think it’s going to get held over until next session, unless I get a postponement on another big case, probably until late November. I guess you won’t mind that, but let me know if you do.

It was signed by Judge Boggs.

Will felt a wave of relief. He had not had time to think about the case for weeks, but it had always been there, under the surface, waiting for him. Now he could separate the trial from the election, and forget about the deleterious effect the two might have on each other. He found his address book. The phone was answered immediately.

“Hello?” The voice high and young, as always.

“Larry, it’s Will Lee. How you doing?”

“Mr. Lee, I’m glad to hear from you. Any news about my trial?”

Will told him about the Judge’s letter.

“I really think it’s the best thing, Larry.”

“Yes sir, I guess maybe it is.”

“I think the longer we’re able to put off a trial, the cooler things will be for you. It’s always good to let some time pass in a murder case.”

“I get your point,” Larry Moody said.

“Of course, you have a right to a speedy trial, and if you can’t stand it, I can always go back to the Judge. His letter sounds as if he’s holding out the possibility of an earlier trial, if we demand it.”

“No, I think you’re right; we ought to wait. I can handle that. Things aren’t so bad for me. I’m doing my work, just like before.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How’s Charlene?”

“To tell the truth, I don’t really know. We split.”

Will felt a stab of alarm.

“Where is she? Has she left town?”

“Oh no, she’s moved in with a girlfriend; they got a trailer down near Warm Springs.”

“There’s no problem about her testifying?”

“Oh no, no problem at all. She’ll stand up for me.

Charlene’s okay, she’ll do the right thing.”

Will was relieved. Charlene was Larry Moody’s only alibi.

“I’m glad to hear it. You take care of yourself then.

If there’s anything I can do for you, call my Atlanta headquarters and leave a message. They’ll know where to reach me.”

“I sure will, Mr. Lee, and thanks.” Will hung up. He should have asked for Charlene’s new address and phone number, he realized. He called information and got a listing in Warm Springs, then dialed the number.

A familiar voice answered, honeyed and Southern.

“Hello, this is Charlene. Ruby and I are out right now, but you can leave a message at the tone, and we’ll get right back to you.”

Will waited for the tone and left his number. Then he turned to the other piece of mail. It was addressed in her clear, straightforward hand, one he would have recognized anywhere. He ripped open the envelope. There was only a single page.

Will, I’we been unhappy about the way we left things when I saw you last. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I know you’re probably overwhelmed with the campaign right now, so I’ll wait and call you after November.

Things should be quieter for me at the office then, too, and perhaps we can have lunch and catch up. In the meantime, I wish you the best of luck in the race. I know you’ll do it well, the way you do everything.

You’ll make a fine senator from Georgia.

Kate He read the note again. It stank of detachment. Not so much as a “Dear” in the salutation; its mention of friendship, not love; its suggestion of lunch, not dinner; the gratuitous, sugary compliment at the close. He took a sheet of notepaper from its pigeonhole and wrote:

My Dear Kate, Thank you for your kind note. Of course, your friendship will always be important to me. Thank you, too, for your good wishes, and I look forward to hearing from you after early November.

Warm regards, Will Always best to be a little warmer than necessary in these situations.

He addressed an envelope and sealed the letter, then wadded her note and tossed it in the wastebasket. He stamped the letter and left it in the mailbox on the front porch for collection on Monday. Then he heated a can of chili and washed it down with half a bottle of California red. He fell asleep almost immediately after hitting the bed, but not before he was gripped by a long, wrenching moment of pain, regret, anger, and sexual longing. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, he was going to stop missing her. the dream slipped away, and Will was left with only the erection it had caused. He allowed himself to wake slowly, willing his body to return to normal.

What had he dreamed? It had been so vivid, and yet, instantly, it was gone.

He lay on his back and watched the shadow of a tree play on the ceiling. Almost no movement; it would be a typical July day in Georgia, still and hot.

He struggled from the bed, still groggy, and made coffee, wolfing down a bowl of cereal while he waited for the pot to do its work. Two cups later, he was able to handle the newspapers, deliberately skipping the political coverage.

The funnies seemed the most important part today;

he lingered over Doonesbury and Bloom County. The phone rang once, then he got up, turned off the bell, and adjusted the answering machine to pick up on the first ring. So much for that. They could do without him for this single day, probably the last he would have to himself before the primary.

He puttered around the house through the morning, rearranging some books on their shelves, throwing out a lot of debris that had begun to fill various corners of the house, hanging a couple of pictures that had been leaning against a cupboard for months. By noon, he was hot and a little tired. Clad only in a light cotton bathrobe, he walked out onto the front porch of the cottage. It was like stepping into a sauna; heat radiated from everything. He opened the robe and napped it to cool his body, but that only admitted more heat. He looked at the placid little lake; it would be warm from the surface to about a foot down;

below that, it would be cool. Impulsively, he shucked off the robe and ran, naked, toward the water; he sprinted down the small dock and, with a whoop, flung himself as far out as he could reach. He had been right about the temperature at the surface; it was blood-warm. He had been wrong about the water below that, too; it was not cool, it was icy. The spring that fed the lake had kept it that way. Holding his breath for as long as he could, he swam underwater, letting the cold depths sweep along his heated body. He broke the surface half a minute later and let out another whoop. He hadn’t had this much fun since he was a teenager. How long since he had swum in the lake? During college? Law school?

He swam along the warm surface for a minute or two, heading back toward the dock, then turned and dived under the surface again. He counted the seconds as he swam and got to fifty before he shot upward again, gasping for air. As he broke the surface, an odd thing happened.

Behind him, near the dock, there was a loud splash. He turned, but there was nobody there. The water, however, was disturbed. Then, suddenly, before he could even take a breath, something grabbed his ankle and yanked him underwater.

Shocked and panicky, he fought to the surface again, sucking in air.

Something, somebody was in the water with him, but he could see no one.

What the hell was going on? He looked all around him, but there was nothing, not a bubble. Then, just as suddenly as before, somebody was crawling up his back. This time, though, he had a chance to grab some air. He turned and grabbed at a form that twisted away from him; then they both broke the surface, face to face.

“Well, hi there,” she said, brushing strands of long blond hair from her face.

It took him a moment.

“Charlene!” he laughed, astonished.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

“Well, I got your message, and I was coming down to Delano anyway, so I thought I’d drop by. I got here about the time you took your running dive, and you couldn’t seem to hear me calling you, so I thought I’d just join you.” She reached out, grabbed him by the hair and ducked him with both hands.

His face slid down her body, past her breasts, down a flat stomach, and over pubic hair before she vaulted over him and tried to swim away. He grabbed an ankle and pulled her down with him. They surfaced together, his hand on her bare waist, hers on his shoulders. He looked at her, gleaming wet, the outline of her breasts just beneath the water. Here they were, he thought, naked; the farm was deserted; just the two of them, alone; she and Larry Moody had broken up, Larry himself had said so.

What the hell?

“Why, Mr. Lee,” she laughed.

“You look as though you just made a decision.”

“I did,” he replied.

“Hey, Will,” she said. She put her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him. Her mouth was soft and warm; her body, the full length of her, pressed against him. Her legs were clamped together around his penis, which had been erect since he had realized who was in the water with him. They sank for a moment, locked together, then she broke from him and swam back to the surface.

“Is there a bed in that little house over there?” she asked.

“There is,” he sputtered.

“I’ll race you to it,” she said. She turned and made for the dock.

He swam after her, but she was already out of the water, running for the cottage, by the time he made the dock. He pulled himself out and ran after her. She went through the front door and ran straight at the bed, diving toward it.

He was right behind her.

She grabbed at him, pulling him on top of her.

“I want you right now,” she panted, “right this minute.”

He tried to answer, but her mouth was clamped to his.

They rolled about in the bed; his hands were on her breasts, then her buttocks; she found him and took him inside her.

“Oh, God!” she sang out.

“I want you, I want you!”

“You’ve got me!” he yelled back, and proved it to her.

In moments, they had both come, noisily, grandly, with abandon. They lay, locked together, wet from the lake and each other.

“My goodness,” she panted, “you do know how to seduce a girl.”

“Me? Seduce you?” He roared with laughter.

“And make her happy, too,” she said.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Is that what this is? I thought it was better than happy.”

“It’s going to be. Will.” She brushed his hair from his face.

“That one was fast, and I wanted it that way. But this one is going to be slow.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it right this minute,” Will said, beginning to get his breath.

She rolled him onto his back and ran her tongue around his nipple.

“Oh, you can,” she said, taking his testicles in her hand.

“You just wait and see.”

Will stroked her breasts, pinched a nipple softly.

“You may be right,” he said.

And she was. The next time took the better part of an hour.

As it got dark, they lay in bed, on fresh sheets, having showered together, and ate ice cream.

“We sort of have this problem,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m on the pill, and I haven’t got any diseases. I just got a checkup.”

“It’s Larry.”

“Oh, him. We split a while back; I forget exactly when.”

“Well, that helps, but the thing is, you’re an important witness, a critical witness, in a capital trial in which I’m defending.”

“So?”

“Well, it could be construed—by unkind persons such as the prosecuting attorney, the judge, or a jury—that I am attempting to influence your testimony.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing? I thought you were fucking me. When I wasn’t fucking you, I mean.”

“Yes, well, that apart, it is probably not the smartest thing in the world for you and me to be having a relationship of this sort, if you get my drift.”

“Why? Didn’t you like it?”

“Oh, boy, did I like it! Still, strictly speaking, this is not proper.”

“I’m glad,” she said.

“I hate proper. Nothing proper about me.”

“It’s one of your charms.”

“Yeah?”

“Only one of your charms.”

“Charms like what?” she asked.

“Like this.”

“Oooo. I like that.”

“So do I. I like it a lot.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not. This is a pretty personal situation.”

“Have you ever had a blow job from somebody who was just eating ice cream?”

“I can’t say that I have ever been that lucky,” he replied weakly.

She put down her ice cream dish.

“Well, old sport,” she said, “your luck has just changed.”

at dawn, she went outside and found the clothes she had been wearing when she arrived. The shorts and cutoff T-shirt in her hand, she came back and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Will, you incredible stud you,” she said, “I gotta be at work at eight. Morning shift.”

“Am I an incredible stud?” he asked sleepily.

“Are you ever,” she said, pulling the sheet from his body.

“Just look at that. I do believe you’re waking up.

You just lie still now.” She straddled him and took him inside her.

“You’re wonderfully wet inside,” he said, sitting up and kissing her.

“All your fault, bud.”

He buried his face in her full breasts.

“These are wonderful.”

“Glad you like them.”

“You’re wonderful all over.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, beginning to breathe rapidly.

“I’m coming.”

“Me, too,” he panted.

They held on to each other for a long moment before she gently pushed him back onto the bed. She brought him a damp towel and wiped his belly and his penis.

“What a way to start the day,” he said.

“You go back to sleep, bud.”

“Charlene, before you go—”

“Listen, Will, this was just grand; I was horny, you were horny, but I know you’re going to be pretty busy for a while. Don’t feel like you’ve got to call me up. I know you and me are from different places, and I’m not the kind of girl you take to the country-club dance.”