The Devil and Danna Webster (8 page)

Mrs. Moore agreed since she planned to stay in the city overnight and could return with friends. We had an uneventful drive in, except that I had to remind Kevin several times to slow down. We were in the city before I realized it. Kevin dropped his mother at a posh restaurant in the East Eighties and then we headed back down toward the West Side and over toward Canal Street.

"It really changes around here, doesn't it? This area is so dilapidated."

"It's the Bowery," Kevin explained. "The area where derelicts congregate. Not so pretty, is it? We'll be out of here soon. New York is a city of contrasts; you see the rich, the poor, the beautiful, the ugly. That's one of the things that makes it so fascinating. Places like this are part of life. You get used to them." I looked around and doubted I ever would.

I glanced at the time on my watch and realized that my mom might be starting to worry because I hadn't come home as expected. ”I have to phone my mother and let her know I'll be back later. Where can I find a phone booth?”

“I don't think it's a good idea,” Kevin said.

“Why not?”

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission?'”

I shook my head.

“Well, it's true. Trust me. I'm older and wiser in that regard.” I recognized Kevin was much more worldly than I was. Still I didn't agree with him on this.

“Kevin, my mom will worry.”

“All right, I'll find you a phone after we get into the parking lot,” he agreed with some reluctance.

We found a phone booth not far from the restaurant Kevin had chosen. I explained matters to my mother, told her how we were having dinner in the city and would be home early. “Don't wait supper for me, okay?”

“Is everything all right?” Mom's voice sounded strained.

“Everything is great. Honor bright,” I reassured her.

“Well, all right then I guess. But don't be too late getting home.”

“We won't.”

Kevin treated me generously and with the utmost courtesy. We walked all over Chinatown, through the narrow crowded streets. I studied the writing over the shops and restaurants all in Chinese. It was like being in another world.

"How do you like it?" he asked.

"It's fascinating, just like you said it would be," I responded.

"Of course, there are some pretty rough gangs here." When I started to glance around, he laughed and clasped my arm. “Don't worry. I'll protect you."

“That's so comforting.”

“I thought so. Does it get me past first base?”

I swatted his hand from my shoulder and he laughed in an amused way.

We ate at an authentic restaurant, not just a tourist place. "You can't get food like this uptown," he said. "These people know the difference." He indicated the Chinese people sitting at nearby tables with an approving nod of his head.

I really did enjoy the food, although I hardly knew what I was eating. Kevin knew it all. He amazed me with his knowledge and sophistication. He ordered steamed vegetable dumplings and sautéed prawns in ginger sauce, done to a golden brown. He ate with chopsticks without dropping a morsel of food. I ate more than I had ever eaten in my life. Over hot tea, Kevin told me more about himself and his family. He had also been lonely and unhappy as a small child. I felt close to him in spirit.

“Did you have enough to eat?” he asked as we left the restaurant.

“If I ate anymore, I'd explode.”

Kevin hugged me. “So I guess you enjoyed the meal?”

I nodded. “It was great.”

“One of many more to come. Just stick with me, kid.”

Then Kevin insisted on buying me something to remember the evening by. He took me into a shop which displayed beautiful carvings and jewelry. The sound of Oriental wind chimes greeted our arrival.

“What would you like?" he asked me.

"Nothing really. I've had a great time. I don't want you to buy me anything else."

"But I want to buy you something special."

I shook my head, except Kevin didn't seem to be paying any attention. He picked up a pair of earrings and studied their green stones.

"How much?" he asked the Chinese man behind the counter. The price was high.

Kevin turned to me. "What do you say? They're fairly good jade. It's the perfect present for you, matches your eyes."

"I can't accept the earrings, Kevin. They cost too much. It wouldn't be right."

"You should understand something," he said, looking directly into my eyes. "Although the old man has become stingy of late, I do have my own separate trust fund. He set up savings, stocks and bonds in my name. He can't touch them anymore. And the interest is mine to do with as I choose. I want to give you a present. It would bring me pleasure."

"But nothing's ever free in this world, is it? Maybe I don't want such a costly present. I don't want to feel under an obligation."

"To me, you mean?" Our eyes were meeting.

"To anyone. I need to be my own person."

He shrugged. "All right, a small present then. No strings attached, just a gift between friends." He looked around the store and picked up a small carved statue. "Quan Yin, Goddess of Peace and Mercy. You have to take her. She's a benign deity. She reminds me of you since she symbolizes goodness."

I found myself blushing. "I'm not that good."

"We'll have to see about that. But you are innocent. I give you fair warning though that I do have every intention of corrupting you, in the most pleasant of ways."

I punched him on the shoulder and he groaned in mock pain. "Stop brutalizing me, girl."

"Then stop teasing me."

"Who said I was teasing? Okay, the Goddess will witness our truce." He paid for the small statue and then handed it to me.

It was the nicest present I'd ever received and I told him so.

The ride home was pleasant and relaxed. We actually made it to my house before eight p.m.

"We've still got time," Kevin said, checking his watch after we arrived in front of the door. "Your folks won't be sending out a search party yet. Want to take a walk by the ocean?"

I quickly agreed. We walked out on the sand and listened as the sea lapped up against it.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine. I don't mind a little chill in the air. It's a great view, isn't it?"

He turned and faced me. “Yeah, it sure is.” Then he was leaning over and kissing me, holding me so tight against him I could feel his heart beating against mine. It was a long, wonderful kiss.

"I don't ever want to let go of you," he said finally. "I want to be with you like this always." He put his hand through my hair. "You've got lovely hair, thick and rich like Swiss chocolate. Why don't you let it grow very long? I'd like it that way."

"Mom says it gets too unmanageable."

"Your hair? Never! It'll be beautiful." He leaned over and kissed me again. "I've got a blanket in the back of the car. Why don't I bring it over so we can sit on it for a while?"

"No, I've got to go now."

"Do you really?" He touched my cheek with the back of his hand and gently ran it down my face. I felt a feverish thrill.

"I must go in," I answered with regret.

He kissed me again, a quick, playful smack, then took my hand. We walked back to the car.

“Don't forget this.” Kevin handed me my present. "A little thank-you kiss?"

"I thought there were no strings." I couldn't help but smile.

"There aren't. I just like kissing you."

"In that case." I threw my arms around him and kissed him firmly on the mouth. He kissed me back with just as much fervor. We finally came apart breathless.

"I hope you know how much I think about you," he said. "I'll call you soon."

I watched him drive away before I entered the house. I was really beginning to care for Kevin. So why was there this sense of uncertainty pulling at me? The truth was Kevin scared me almost as much as he attracted me. It was disturbing and confusing.

The topic somehow came up the very next day when Joyce visited. We walked to the ocean and I told her all about my date with Kevin.

“It makes me really suspicious," she said. "He's spending an awful lot of money on you. Doesn't it make you wonder?"

"Wonder what?" I asked her.

She looked at me sharply through her dark-framed eyeglasses. "What he's going to expect in return."

"We talked about that," I said, continuing to walk. "He doesn't expect anything. He really cares about me."

"I don't know, Dani. From all we've heard, he's not a very nice guy.”

“He's been awful good to me.”

“Just be careful around him. Promise me. There's just something about the guy that makes my flesh crawl."

I stared at my friend in amazement. “How can you say a thing like that about Kevin? I never thought a smart girl like you would believe rumors and gossip.”

Joyce shook her head with vehemence. “I don't. There's just something not right about Kevin Moore. I wish you'd dump him.”

"That sounds like good advice."

I turned around, surprised.

Gar Hansen looked down at me, his bright blue eyes squinting into the sun.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, averting my eyes.

"Figured you just might need some more tutoring," Gar said.

"My friend Joyce is here. Could we make it another time?"

"I remember Joyce," he said in a friendly manner. “How you doing?”

“Okay,” Joyce said, looking a little flustered.

In spite of the fact that they had nothing in common, so far as I could see, the two of them got on together well. He walked along the beach with us, talking mostly to Joyce. The sky was a flawless blue and here and there, a cotton candy cloud would appear. The wind blew in our faces, the sun dancing in the sparkling gold of Gar's hair and the copper of Joyce's. Gar walked us back to my house. He lingered as if he didn't want to leave, so finally, I took the hint and invited him in. As before, my parents were delighted to see him. After talking with my stepdad for a while, Gar asked if he might use the telephone. Of course, my stepdad agreed. I didn't find out until twenty minutes later who he had called.

Our doorbell rang and standing there was another tall boy who had a face full of freckles. I thought at first he had the wrong house, but he asked for Gar so I let him in. Gar introduced him as Tom Patterson.

"Tom's our wide receiver."

I looked inquiringly at Joyce and realized neither one of us knew what a wide receiver was. Someone who receives wide passes? I knew better than to ask.

All three of us were staring at Gar. He cleared his throat nervously and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I thought maybe we could all go out for burgers together. Maybe get better acquainted?"

I was going to tell him to forget it. Then I looked over at Joyce. She was smiling at Tom Patterson, and he was smiling back at her. How could I ruin that? So I just kept my mouth shut.

We drove in Gar's car. His little Bug made all sorts of strange noises, like it was protesting having to be a beast of burden. Gar did the driving but not much of the talking. Tom and Joyce did enough of that for all of us. I don't think I've ever heard my friend talk so much. I could tell those two hit it off right from the start. Gar took us to a retro burger joint in the mall. We had milk shakes and cheeseburgers. The guys put away an order of fries each. They could totally eat and it didn't show on them. I guess it was all of that exercise they got on the playing field.

Afterwards, we walked around and played a few video games in the arcade. Gar barely spoke to me. I began to think that this whole idea of going out was just his way of fixing up his friend with Joyce. Kind of a good deed, I guess. Still, I felt pretty awkward being with him. Shouldn't he be with Caron if she was his girlfriend?

"How's Caron?" I asked him pointedly, putting my thoughts into words.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't you call your friend Kevin and ask him?"

"I might just do that." I walked past him and stopped by a store, staring at some fall sweaters without really seeing them. Gar came up and stood beside me.

"I wouldn't trust that guy if I were you. He's nothing but bad news."

I turned and faced him squarely. "How would you know?"

"Caron's told me a few things about him. He's trouble."

"People change."

Gar was very close to me, looking down into my eyes. "I don't know if someone like him even wants to change. He'll just drag other people down with him."

"I think you're completely wrong about Kevin. No one really understands him."

"And you think you do? He'll just use you to get what he wants and then toss you away."

“Thanks so much for the cheerful thought.”

“I'm just trying to be a friend.”

I did my best to hold down my temper. “I guess you think I'm naïve?”

“Didn't say that.”

“I think Kevin's been treated unfairly, even by his own sister.”

“If that's what you want to think.”

I turned my back on Gar. We didn't talk again. For Joyce's sake, I controlled my anger. When we parted back at my house, Tom asked Joyce for her phone number.

He promised to call soon. After the boys left, Joyce and I went into the house. I felt miserable, but I had never seen Joyce so happy. She babbled on happily about Tom until her mother picked her up.

Kevin phoned me shortly after Joyce left. We talked for quite a while. I told him how much I liked the Quan Yin statue and how I had put it in a place of honor on the nightstand beside my bed. That seemed to please him. He asked if he could come over, but I told him my parents wouldn't approve. I don't think he understood. Still, he didn't push it, much to my relief.

That week, I was busy with schoolwork and working on the painting of Caron. I can't say I was too crazy about the subject of my work, but I really liked the idea of earning my first fee as an artist. Ms. Meade let me work on the portrait after school.

"I'm afraid of doing this in oil," I told her.

She studied the picture thoughtfully. "Would they mind if you worked in pastels?"

"I think so. Kevin said his mother prefers oil paintings."

"Then give it a try. I'll help you mix the flesh tones and get the right kind of strokes." And she did. It was amazing how much she knew. Every day after school we worked on it together. It was a wonderful learning experience for me.

"Did you ever think of being a real artist instead of a teacher?" I asked her on Friday.

She opened her eyes wide and let out a low, soft laugh. "Oh, I've thought about that a lot. And I do some painting still. The truth is I'm not nearly good enough. I have a fair knowledge of technique, but I rarely feel inspired."

"Maybe because you give so much of yourself to us kids."

"Maybe so," she agreed. "Teaching is a demanding job. Still, it does have its rewards, like seeing you give life to this painting. I think you've managed to give your subject a kind of vitality that the photo didn't capture. Is she like that?”

"Caron? Yes, there's something about her."

“She's got an unusual kind of beauty. You've captured her essence here. It's very good work, Danna. Who in your family has artistic talent?"

Ms. Meade's question threw me.

"I don't know. My mother doesn't draw at all."

"Ask her about it. Talent generally runs in families.”

“I will. I'm kind of curious myself.” Had my real dad been artistic?

“We can work on this some more next week."

"Think I'll be done by next Friday? The party is only a week away."

"Of course," Ms. Meade said in that encouraging way she had. "That is, if you are willing to settle for less than a masterpiece."

“Oh, I don't think I could manage that regardless.”

Kevin arrived as we were cleaning up. He wanted to look at the painting. I don't know why I was uneasy about letting him see my work, but he persisted, and so I finally showed it to him. He stood back and stared at it speechless.

"You hate it, don't you? We're still working on it though.”

“Are you kidding? This is terrific. I can't believe you got her! It's Caron, just the way Caron really is. You've caught her essence, totally captured her. But this is different from the photograph."

"Not flattering enough? Your mother won't like it, will she?"

Kevin was thoughtful. "She'll love it. All we have to do is buy a glitzy frame. That'll be our job for Saturday. We'll go down to the Village and check out the art shops. The frame will be my present to Caron."