2

Tom and Rose

The girl would not meet his eyes. She sat on Del's bed, looking at her feet as if he had embarrassed her. Tom saw that she thought he had been making fun of her - Del was staring at him in amazement - and he said, 'I'm sorry. That just popped out. I didn't mean anything by it.'

'I know who you are,' she said. Then she lifted her face and gave him a look from her pale iridescent eyes which nearly blew him across the room. 'Everybody says you're going to be a great magician.'

'Look, I'm a little sick of hearing that,' Tom said, speaking with more heat than he had intended. Rose Armstrong looked as though a strong word would melt her. The silk shimmered about her arms. 'Who is everybody, anyhow?'

'Del and Mr. Collins. Especially Mr. Collins.'

'He talked to you about me?'

'Sure. Now and then. Last winter.'

Del smiled, and Tom looked at both of them, perplexed. 'But he didn't even know me last winter.'

'He did know you.' And that, it seemed, would be that. The girl knitted her hands together and regarded him squarely. Despite what he had thought, she was relaxed. As slight and flowerlike as she was, she was a year older than both boys, and to Tom it was suddenly as if she were ten years older - she seemed massive and unknowable. But still her face with its full lips and high forehead broadcast vulnerability. The wet hair hugged her head. He realized that he envied Del, his closeness to Rose Armstrong. The girl seemed as perfect as a statue.

Living Statue.

'He made me,' Rose said with an air of bravery.

Now Tom's uneasiness increased.

'I never had a thought in my head until I met Mr. Collins,' she said, and he relaxed. 'I was nothing.' That stabbing look of a wound deeply absorbed settled again in her face. 'I would forgive him anything.'

'Do you have to forgive him very often?'

'Well, he drinks a lot, and I don't like that. Sometimes he changes when he's had too much.'

Tom nodded. He had seen the proof of that. He asked, 'Why did you go out on that rock dressed up like it was winter? And open that smoke bomb.'

'He told me to. He gave me the clothes.'

'And that's enough?'

'Of course.'

'Did you know that we were supposed to see you?'

'I assumed someone was supposed to see me. It wouldn't make sense otherwise.'

'D-s he forgive you too?'

'Why should he have to?'

'Because when I was coming up here, I met him in the hall. He was drunk. He said he was going to give Del a warning, but that I could do it for him. I guess it was about your being here.'

She flushed. 'I wondered… I guess I shouldn't be here. But tomorrow it'll probably be all right.'

'You mean, when he's sober?'

She nodded. 'But I shouldn't stay. Del, I… you know.'

Tom felt the stab of envy or jealousy again. She had not once called him by his name.

'I guess so,' Del said.

Tom watched as she stood up, glanced at him as if he had struck her - but was that just a part of her face, like Bobby Hollingsworth's smile? She peeled the shirt off. He jumped into the awkward silence. 'Before you go, can I ask you something?'

She nodded.

'Are there some men staying here somewhere? Have you seen a bunch of men anywhere around?'

'Yes.' She glanced at Del. 'They haven't been here for a year or two. They stay in a cabin on the other side of the lake. They're his friends.'

'Okay,' Tom said.

'They used to work with him,' she added. With another glance at Del, 'I don't like it when they're here. They're not like him.' She was holding the shirt up before her, shielding herself. 'They're dead.'

This was totally unexpected. 'That's ridiculous.' He saw that it was something Collins had told her, and which she had accepted.

'You may think it is. He told me about it. About how it happened.'

'It's still ridiculous.' He heard the repetition, and thought he sounded nearly as stupid as the girl. 'Did he tell you to say that to us?'

'No. I have to go.'

Tom felt a burning impatience allied with an equally strong desire to. keep Rose Armstrong in the room. 'Where do you stay? In the house?'

'I can't tell you. I'm not supposed to.' She dropped the shirt on the bed and smiled at Del. 'I can tell it's your friend's first time.'

'Could you carry a letter out of here for me? Could you mail a letter for me?'

'Nothing is supposed to leave here,' she said, and began to move delicately toward the hall door. 'But you could ask Elena.'

'That woman? She doesn't speak English.'

'I'm sure she understands the words 'post office.'' She gave her first smile. 'I hope you're in a better mood the next time I meet you.' Then she was at the door, sliding around it like a shadow. 'Good-bye, Del.' She turned the iridescent eyes toward Tom. 'Good-bye, grumpy Tom.' Then she was gone.

Del's face was rapturous. Tom heard the pad of bare feet moving down the hall in the direction he had chased the woman called Elena. Then the soft opening of a door.

Tom turned to the still-transfixed Del. 'I saw the Brothers Grimm downstairs,' he said. 'I guess they're dead, too.' Del simply smiled at him. 'What is she, hypnotized or something?' Del did not speak or move. Tom walked away from him and went out the door. The hall was dark and quiet. In the woods, the lights burned like beacons. He went up to the glass and put his hands to his face to blot out his reflection. Rose Armstrong was padding over the flagstones; she began to descend the iron ladder.

He stood in the hall until the shaft of moonlight on the water illuminated a silvery, lifting arm; froth where her feet kicked.

'Now you know,' Del said behind him.

Tom nodded. He heard the mistrust in his friend's voice.