Hell Hath No Fury

14

I was dead the next day; it was worse than a hangover. Even after I’d gone home I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of her and what she could do to me, and for some reason I couldn’t get Harshaw out of my mind. It didn’t make much sense. Why should I worry about him? But every time I’d close my eyes and try to sleep the whole thing would start around again, his lying there alone in the dark listening to it like a mechanic to a missing engine and knowing that when it started to go away again he was done because there wasn’t anybody to do anything or even to be there when he left, while all the time the two of us were out there wallowing in our own cheapness. It was a little hard to sleep with.

I was so filled with disgust I didn’t even go across the street to see Gloria. I didn’t know whether I could face her. The news was out, and everybody was talking about Harshaw’s heart attack.

The following day I began to feel a little better. It was Saturday, and we were pretty busy. Around noon the telephone rang.

“Mr. Madox?”

What now? I thought. “Yes. Speaking.”

“This is Mrs. Harshaw. George asked me to call you. He isn’t feeling well enough to come down to the office, you know. I guess you’ve heard about it—?” She let it trail off.

“Yes,” I said. “I hated to hear it. How is he now?”

“He’s a little better. That’s the reason I’m calling. He’d like to have you come out to the house tonight to talk over some business details. Do you think you could make it, around seven o’clock?”

“Sure,” I said.

“That’ll be fine, then. And would you mind telling the girl in the loan office, Miss—ah—“

“Harper,” I said. The lousy tramp. She just couldn’t resist it.

“Yes. That’s it. Miss Harper. He wants her to come too.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll tell her.”

I went across the street. She was busy with a Negro who was making a payment on his loan. When she saw me waiting she waved the pencil at me and her eyes crinkled up in a smile. In a minute the Negro said, “Thank you, Miss Gloria,” and went out.

“Hello,” she said.

“You’re looking very pretty.” I paused. We were both always just a little awkward with each other when we first met.

“Do you like my new dress?”

I looked at it. It was blue with white sort of ruffles. ‘Yes,” I said. “Very much.”

She smiled. “It isn’t new. You’ve seen it four times.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen it at all.”

“You’re nice.” Then her face became serious and she said quietly, “It’s so awful about Mr. Harshaw, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I just talked to Mrs. Harshaw, and I think he’s a little better. He wants us to come out there tonight. Something about the business. If you can make it, I’ll pick you up a little before seven.”

“All right, Harry. But he shouldn’t be trying to think about business now. What do you suppose he wants?”

“Probably just a report,” I said. “But there’s no telling. Maybe he’s going to sell out and retire.”

She didn’t answer for a minute. Then she asked, “Do you really think he will?”

Something in her voice made me turn and look at her. It still puzzled me after I left. She had seemed almost afraid. But why should she be? Even if she lost her job, which was unlikely, there were plenty of others.

It was dusk when I drove over to pick her up. She wasn’t quite ready, and I waited, talking about cars with the Robinsons on the front porch. When she came out she was very lovely in a white skirt and dark, long-sleeved blouse, and as we went down the walk and I helped her into the car I was conscious of a faint fragrance about her in the air.

The street going up past the filling station was deserted in the twilight, and just as we came to the oaks I stopped the car.

“Did you forget something, Harry?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t forget it. This is just the first chance I’ve had to do it.” I took her face in my hands and kissed her.

When her eyes opened they smiled at me. There was just enough light to see them. They were enormous. “You mustn’t get lipstick on you. We’re going to a business conference.”

“The devil with business conferences. I just wanted to tell you something. Maybe I never told you before. You’re lovely; and you’re wonderful.”

“Now you’re making me lose interest in business.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “We’ll sneak out right after we’ve voted our stock.”

She laughed. And then, as I started the car again, she said soberly, “I do hope he’s better, Harry. It’s so awful thinking of him that way.”

He was sitting up in a big chair in the living room, wearing pajamas and a seersucker robe. He looked old somehow. His face was a dirty gray and seemed thinner, though that might have been just imagination. The only things unchanged about him were the eyes. They were as frosty and tough as ever, and you somehow got the impression that his heart might kill him but it’d never scare him worth a damn.

She let us in. She was wearing a white summer dress and every ash-blonde curl was in place. Her face was heavily made up, but it didn’t quite cover up the faint shadows under the eyes. Climbing that sawdust pile was rough medicine, but apparently it’d worked. She was a tough baby. I saw her giving Gloria the inventory. No doubt she’d seen her before, but now she was putting her through the assay office a piece at a time. There was a thirty-looking-at-twenty-one appraisal in her eyes and she didn’t quite cover up all the hardness in them.

“You know Miss Harper, don’t you? And Madox?” he asked her. I was surprised at his voice. It was a little shaky, and it had lost most of that parade-ground bark.

“Oh, yes, of course. Won’t you sit down?” And then she murmured to Gloria, “That’s a lovely blouse. I like it.”

She excused herself after a fill-in on how he was feeling and said she’d go out in the kitchen and fix some drinks. When she was gone, Harshaw asked, “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” I said. I told him how many cars we’d sold and about a couple we’d taken in on trades.

“You think the ad did any good?”

“Sure. I’ve got another one in this week’s paper.”

He grunted. “O.K. I’ll tell you what I asked you over here for, but before I do, how’d you get crossed up with that Sheriff?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. For one thing, I was new here. And according to that cashier the robber was a big man.”

“It’s lucky for you Dolly saw you over there at the fire. I know that bird. In two days he can make you believe you’re guilty yourself.” He stopped to take a deep breath. He didn’t have much strength. “But never mind that. Here’s what I’ve got in mind—”

Just then she came out of the dining room and interrupted him. “It’s those darn ice-cube trays, George. They’re stuck again. Maybe Mr. Madox—“

“Sure,” I said, getting up. “Excuse me.”

The little witch, I thought; when she wants to throw ‘em at somebody they’re not stuck. I followed her through the dining room and out into the kitchen. She watched me as I opened the refrigerator and took the trays out.

“That’s funny,” she said, smiling. “I couldn’t budge ‘em.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Well, you could put the cubes in the glasses if you’d like.”

I put them in four glasses. She poured whisky and soda in three of them and plain soda in the fourth. Then she began stirring, making a lot of noise. With the other hand she caught my lapel, and jerked her head for me to come nearer.

She looked up at me, still with that hard smile on her mouth. “Very pretty, isn’t she?” she asked, not whispering, but keeping her voice low. Her nostrils dilated a little as she sniffed. “And you can tell the angel-faced little bitch to quit leaving her tracks on you. I can smell her all over you.”

“You’re crowding your luck,” I said. “Don’t go too far.”

“Maybe you thought I was joking. You’d better keep it in mind.”

“I’ve told you once,” I said. “Don’t threaten me.” I caught the arm that was stirring, pried the spoon out of her fingers, and threw it on the drainboard. “Shall we take the drinks in?”

We went in and passed the drinks around and sat down. Gloria glanced at me with her eyes shining.

“Madox, I’ve just been telling Miss Harper,” he said. “Here’s the deal. I’m going to have to quit trying to work, at least for a long time. So I want you to take charge of everything down there. She’ll continue to run the loan office, just as she has been, but you’ll be responsible for the whole works. I’ll pay you a salary, plus your own commissions and the sales-manager’s take on what Gulick sells. You ought to be good for around six thousand a year. Do you want it?”

Did I? I thought. It was a terrific break, and it took me a little by surprise. I didn’t understand it. We’d always fought like a couple of sore-headed bears. “Sure,” I said, trying to get my breath. “Of course I do. But why me? I mean, Gulick’s the senior man—“

He gestured curtly. There was still a little of the old Harshaw there. “Gulick can’t handle it,” he grunted. “He hasn’t got the drive. I know you have, and you’re too disagreeable to be crooked, so it’s yours if you want it.”

Sure, I thought. I’m not crooked. Besides betraying him with his wife, all I’ve done lately is steal twelve thousand dollars. It was a little hard to look at him.

It didn’t take long to straighten out the details. Just before we left she had to go with Gloria to show her where the bathroom was, and as they went out of the room he looked after them. It was the first time I’d ever seen anything gentle in his face. I wondered which one he was looking at.

“That’s one of the finest girls who ever lived,” he said. And then I knew. He was speaking of Gloria. “You won’t have to pull any of your hardboiled stuff on her. So don’t, or you won’t be there.”

As soon as we were out in the car she said simply, “I’m so happy for you, Harry. I think it’s wonderful.”

I turned south on Main Street and drove down the highway. Without conscious thought I made the turn on to the road going up past the abandoned farmhouses. We were both silent now, as the road wound into the river bottom. It was black here in the timber. In a few minutes we came to the river. I stopped the car off the road at the end of the bridge and turned off the lights. The night closed in around us. I got out and went around the car to her door and opened it and helped her out.

When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I could see the river, the stars reflected on the surface like silver dust across a mirror, and the ghostly outline of the bridge. We walked out on to it, her high heels rapping on the planks. We stopped and stood at the railing, looking down into the blackness and the water. I turned and I could see her face in the faint light here in the open between the walls of trees. The eyes were dark, looking quietly up at me, and there was just a whisper of that fragrance about her. I reached out and put my arms around her.

For a long time there were no words. I was kissing her and then holding her, like something very precious that might fly away, holding her with my face down against her cheek. Then she stirred a little and moved back and as my arms relaxed she took both of my hands and lifted them up against her face.

“The way you did before,” she said softly. “It’s crazy, isn’t it, but I love for you to kiss me that way. Maybe it’s because that was the way it was the first time you kissed me. Do you remember that, Harry?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve forgotten it entirely. It was just a little thing, like having a house fall on you.” I held her face that way and bent down until I was just touching her lips. “I love you,” I said.

“I love you, too, Harry.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s kind of funny. I’ve known you only about a month, but I can’t seem to remember what it was like when I wasn’t in love with you. I guess I ought to die of shame for telling you, but you’ll never know how much I was hoping you’d kiss me that night when you brought Spunky home.”

“You’re a crazy kid,” I said. “And wonderful.”

We were silent again, and after a while she asked softly, “What are you thinking about?”

“I was just wondering how we happened to come to this place. I think I knew right from the minute we left Harshaw’s that I was going to ask you if you’d marry me, and I just drove out here without even thinking about it. And I was remembering something he said when you were out of the room.”

“What was that, Harry?”

“It’s a little funny now. He said he’d fire me if I didn’t treat you right. On the job, he meant. You know he’s pretty crazy about you, too. He said you were the finest girl he’d ever seen.”

“Don’t say that, Harry!” She tightened up suddenly in my arms, and I could hear the beginnings of panic in her voice. “Don’t say anything. Just hold me.”

I held her, but it wasn’t any good. I could feel her going to pieces. And then she was crying, not silently as she had before but with a shaken hopelessness that tore me up. There wasn’t anything I could do until she quietened. It was an awful feeling.

It was a long time. When she was still at last I took out my handkerchief and mopped away the tears, and then I got hold of her arm and led her back to the car. We got in and I lighted a cigarette and held it for her while she puffed at it.

“All right,” I said, “start at the beginning. We’ve got all night, and we’re not going to leave here till you tell me. Something’s hurting you, and it’s gone far enough. So let’s have it.”

“All right, I’ll tell you, Harry,” she said dully. “I can’t stand it any more. I’ve got to tell you. And I’ll have to tell him, too. That’s the awful part of it. After the way he’s treated me, how can I tell—Harry, how can I?”

“Tell who?” I asked.

“Mr. Harshaw.” Her voice began to tighten up again. “I’ve been stealing from him, Harry. I’ve stolen nearly two thousand dollars from him.” It caught up with her again.

It’s fine, I thought. It’s wonderful. Harshaw should write a book about his faith in the human race. His wife’s a tramp, I’ve been helping her with it, and now this. And then I knew it didn’t fit. Two of us were guilty, but Gloria didn’t belong in the crowd.

There was nothing to do until she recovered, and then I said gently, “All right, baby. You just tell me what it is. We’ll straighten it out. There are two of us now.” I lighted her another cigarette and pulled her back to where she could rest her head against my arm.

“I’m sorry, Harry. But I think I’m all right now. I don’t think I can make you understand why I did it, because you’re not the kind of coward I was, but I’ll tell you the best I can. It’s been going on for nearly a year now. I keep paying the money back, but I can’t catch up with it because of the interest—“

She’s unique, I thought. She tells me she’s a thief, but still she’s paying interest on the money she stole.

“I won’t try to tell you what it’s like,” she went on quietly, with that hopelessness in her voice. “Just trying to keep going, I mean, trying to keep the books straight, paying back a few dollars here and a few there, and then having to write out another fake note to cover one that has to be paid. It all comes to over fifteen hundred dollars, and the interest on it takes up nearly half of what I can pay back out of my salary each month. And then there’s always more. Something new. Another twenty or thirty or fifty dollars. But I guess I’d better tell you where it all went, where it goes—“

“That I already know, honey,” I said. “What I want to find out before I go to talk to him is why.”

She shook her head with frantic entreaty. “No, Harry. No! Don’t you see that’s one reason I haven’t told you before? I mean, for fear of what you’d do. He might hurt you, or you might get into trouble over it.”

“You can tell me, baby.” I said. “And don’t worry about it. We’ll just have a little talk. It’s just possible I speak his language a little better than you do.”

She hesitated a minute and then she said unhappily, “All right. But there isn’t anything we can do. Except to go and tell him. Mr. Harshaw, I mean. Once I can get up the courage to do that... but I might as well start at the beginning. It’s about a girl, or a woman rather, who came hereabout this time last year. Her name was Irene Davey. She was a teacher. She’d been hired to teach high-school maths—algebra and plane geometry, I think—and to coach the girls’ basketball team. School didn’t start until September, of course, but she came along late in August to find a place to live. I met her on the tennis court one day just after she came.

“She was several years older than I was—I guess she was twenty-six or twenty-eight—but she was very good at sports. She was crazy about all kinds of games. She could always beat me at tennis without even trying, and kept asking me about places to swim around here. I understood she had been on the swimming team in college, and had won a number of diving competitions. She seemed to take a great liking to me right from the first. She called me a couple of times and asked me to go to the show with her. I introduced her to a few boys I knew, but she didn’t seem to be much interested in them.”

She stopped, and then she said, “This is a lot of explanation, Harry, but I have to tell you all of this before you’ll understand what happened. It was awful. But I didn’t know—“

No, I thought, she probably didn’t. I was beginning to have an odd feeling about it, a kind of premonition. What I was remembering was the scene that Sunday morning when they had me trapped up there in that old barn.