four

Rachel, seeing that Paul was washing pots and keeping the girls younger girls entertained enough to actually finish their jobs, decided she was going to slough off her own chores. She shrugged off her denim apron which she had put over her summer dress. Conveniently, the phone rang just then, and she said, “I’ve got it,” scooped up the handset, and stepped outside. “Hello?”

“Hi Rachel! Uh, is this Rachel?”  It was Keith Kramer, from her class at school.  Her antennae pricked up.  Keith was a friend, but he never called the Durhams.  It was odd.

“You know it is, Keith,” she said. “What’s up?” She was sure she had heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.

“I, uh, wanted to give Colonel Durham a message about the Bible outreach.”

“Okay, I’ll go get him.” But Rachel stood still. If her dad had picked up, he could just intervene, right now.

“That’s okay. Just tell him my dad and I won’t be able to make the meeting on Wednesday. Uh—how have things been, Rachel?”

“Okay,” she said, wondering if her dad was listening on the line or not. Was he testing her or something? Trying to see if she was going to obey him or not?

“Having a good summer?”

“Yeah, it’s been quiet around here since graduation,” Rachel said. If her dad was listening, it had to be clear to him that it was Keith Kramer, not her, who was initiating the conversation.

“So—what have you been up to?”

Aha, maybe that was it. Dad didn’t need to listen in on the conversation. Dad was hoping that Keith would be a spy for him. Just like Dad was hoping that Paul would be a spy.

Flushed with anger, Rachel suddenly felt reckless. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said softly.

“What was that?”

“Oh, come on Keith,” Rachel said in a soft voice, staring at the golden row of windows on the house. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I’ve been up to?”

There was a silence that seemed too long and Rachel wondered again, her heart racing, if her dad was listening on the phone after all. If he was, she had just given herself away. On a sudden impulse, she walked swiftly around the house.

“Uh,” Keith said with an effort. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”

Rachel didn’t answer because she was hurrying, as fast as she could without breathing hard, around the house to the place where her dad’s study was. Slowing to a halt, she peered in the window.

Her dad was typing on the computer. The phone was in its receiver—but maybe he had it on speakerphone?

I’m being way too paranoid, she chided herself. She had an idea. “Well, then,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe you should talk to Taylor.”

“Taylor from our class?”

“Yeah, maybe you should talk to him,” she said. She had talked to Taylor at church last week. She had figured out that even though Taylor was in her dad’s study group too, he wasn’t going to be a spy.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Keith said. “Uh, make sure you give your dad that message.”

“Sure I will,” she said, and hung up the phone.

She wandered up the path that ran between the vegetable gardens, feeling the breeze tugging her hair out of the bun, and planning. Glancing up, she saw Paul through the kitchen window and wondered idly if he were watching her. He probably thought she looked like some kind of old-fashioned heroine in her too-long skirt and blouse. He would be mistaken, she thought. I’m trapped in this quaint Christian life by day, but now I have an escape.

And that thought alone was invigorating.

After Paul had finished the dishes and helped the girls with the kitchen, the evening had darkened. Colonel Durham returned and offered to drive Paul back to his campsite.

Paul had a feeling that the man wanted to talk with him alone, so he said yes. After saying goodnight to the girls and Mrs. Durham, Paul got into the passenger side of the colonel’s large town car. It was a comfortable car, but not ostentatious. The Durhams, he was starting to see, were well-off, but didn’t live extravagantly. It was interesting to see Christian parents who took the challenge to live simply seriously. He admired that principle, although he could see the teenagers were chafing under it.

“Thanks very much for having me over,” Paul said.

“We enjoyed having you as well,” Mr. Durham said.

As they drove, Colonel Durham was quiet for a moment then said abruptly, “So, now you’ve met my daughters. You see the problem?”

Paul searched for words. “They’re all very beautiful young ladies,” he said slowly.

The Colonel gave a wry smile. “Yes, they are. I wonder if that’s half the trouble. I wish God had given me godly daughters, but instead He gave me beautiful daughters. And that makes my job twice as hard. I don’t know what it is about females and beauty, but if a girl’s beautiful, she seems to think that she has a right to focus on that. But I guess that’s human nature.”

“Does there have to be a conflict between being beautiful and being good?” Paul couldn’t help saying.

The colonel frowned. “I don’t know if there has to, but in my experience, there often is,” he said.

Fingering the medal around his neck and silently asking for guidance, Paul tried to think of where to start.  “I was wondering…just thinking about how my own dad related to my sisters…Have you had much time to spend with them? How much do you see them during the week?”

“I’m working from home three days a week and Sallie’s almost always home. They’re practically never out of our sight. That’s what’s so puzzling to me. I don’t see what they could be hiding. They couldn’t be doing anything at nighttime: they’d have to walk right past our bedroom to get downstairs, and we always keep our door open. Yet I’m sure there’s something going on. I just can’t figure out what it is or when it’s happening.”

“Have you looked into getting any help?” Paul asked.

The man harrumphed. “I’ve tried to sound out some of their friends from church about it. A couple of their male classmates are in my Bible study group. I’ve asked them to try to find out. You know how sometimes teens will only talk to other teens, and I know my girls are always trying to talk to these boys anyhow. But the boys have no idea. Either that, or they know what’s going on and they’re not telling me either.”

“I meant, have you tried seeing a family counselor or something,” Paul amended.

The colonel shook his head. “Been there, done that,” he said. “We did the whole counseling thing when my first wife died. I don’t know that it did much good.” He turned off the car—they had reached the campsite. “Besides, I don’t think this is psychological. It’s all about trust. The girls don’t trust me. I don’t trust them. And frankly, I don’t see what can be done about it.”

He coughed and looked uncomfortable. “Like I said, I asked a couple of their friends already if they could find out what was going on. And I’m not sure if I can trust what they’re telling me. I don’t know if you’d consider trying your own hand, to see if you can find out what they’re up to?”

Paul stared at him. “So you’re asking me to spy on your daughters?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. If you were to talk to them…get to know them…and happen to figure out what it is they’re up to…you could let me know.” He looked a bit aggravated. “I know it’s an awkward request. I just don’t see what else I can do, short of bugging the house or having chips implanted in their arms. The situation has deteriorated to this point.”

Paul could see how frustrated the colonel was. The man was in a tough spot: he was spying on his daughters but he didn’t want to have to spy.

Thoughtful, Paul leaned forward and looked down at his feet. “Let me ask you this,” he said at last. “Which would you prefer—to have someone tell you what it is your daughters are doing? Or to have your daughters tell you themselves?”

 “I’d rather my daughters told me themselves, of course,” Colonel Durham said, looking searchingly at Paul. “Why? Do you think you could get them to do that? How?”

Paul drummed his fingers on his knees, thinking of the snatches of the girls’ conversation he had inadvertently overheard. “Well, I don’t know if I could. Part of it would depend on how much you’re willing to trust me,” he said at last.

The Colonel sat there, frowning and looking hard at Paul, suddenly looking formidable, the way that Army commanders can look when the need arises. Paul knew he was being scrutinized.

At last, the Colonel spoke. “Trust you—how?”

Paul took a deep breath, “I’ll need to know if I can have your permission for two things.”

“All right,” Colonel Durham said. “So what are they?”

“I would like your permission to be on your beach at night, without your knowledge. I mean, I would come and scout around the beach late at night, randomly, just to observe. I would come and go without attracting attention to myself, sir.” Paul realized he had fallen back automatically into the military manner of speaking.

Colonel Durham looked at Paul quizzically. “You think the girls are up to something on the beach at night?”

Paul continued deliberately. “And the second thing—and this is bigger—if I do find out, I need to be free to not tell you anything until I can persuade your daughters to tell you themselves. Like you said you would prefer.”

Colonel Durham was silent for a long moment, staring over the steering wheel into the darkness. Then he put his clasped hands to his chin and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, he looked at Paul.

“All right, corporal,” he said. “I’ll trust you.”

“Okay,” Paul said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He felt a pit opening out in his stomach as though he had just agreed to walk across a high-wire buffeted by crosswinds. In the dark.

Rachel waited until she was sure her parents were asleep for the night, then she rose out of bed. The other girls, alerted, followed, some stifling yawns.  Most of them didn’t get changed into their night clothes any more, but simply put on comfortable clothes to go to bed, in anticipation of an outing.

But to Rachel’s surprise, Prisca got out of bed wearing an emerald green dress. “What are you doing?” Rachel hissed. The dress was an old semi-formal dress of their mother’s that had been hanging in the storage closet for as long as anyone could remember.

Prisca just shrugged, “I just wanted to wear Mom’s dress. Is that a problem?”  

“Suit yourself.” Rachel let it go.

They filed quickly down the stairs to the cave, through the woods, and out into the cool moonlight on the beach. Rachel stretched and arched her back.

“So why are you dressed up?” Linette piped.

“I just wanted to,” Prisca said, raising her eyebrows. She put her hands on her hips and spun around. The dress flared out, showing off her legs. “Rachel said we could do whatever we wanted.”

“Sure. Whatever floats your boat,” Rachel said. “Just make sure you don’t ruin the dress.”

“I felt like getting dressed up tonight.” Prisca produced the zippered pencil case that served as her secret makeup bag. She usually hid it in her backpack during the school year, to make up her face as discreetly as possible after she reached school. Makeup was banned at Bayside Christian, but that didn’t stop the girl students from trying to get away with as much as possible.

“Do my face too, Prisca, please!” Liddy begged.

“Let me do my own face first.” Prisca spread out her makeup on a smooth rock, and began to pick out eye shadow. “That is, if I can,” she said, “I don’t have a light. This will be interesting.” It was a full moon, but still different from daylight.

“I’ll do your makeup for you,” Becca said. “I can see to do you, and then you can do me.”

“And me,” Liddy insisted.

“Antsy pantsy. All right.”

Rachel wandered away from the makeover to the water.  The other girls followed her.

“Well! That was an ordeal at dinner tonight,” she said. “What a name—Fester. Paul Fester. I wanted to laugh when we were introduced. Can you imagine having to go through life with a name like that?”

“Oh, come on,” said Miriam. “He was okay.”

“He’s a geek,” Rachel said. “What normal guy dresses up in a clown suit and goes out juggling?”

 “Paul said he would teach me and Debbie to juggle,” Linette said, skipping through the sand. “I showed him how I could do a frontward walkover, and he said he would teach me to do it backwards. He said that if we were really good we might be able to be in his act with him.  He said he could jump through a flaming hoop if he had someone brave enough to hold it up for him. I said I wouldn’t do it but Debbie said she would, if he showed her how.”

Rachel rolled her eyes at Miriam. “Well, he certainly gets on well with the youngsters.”

“That’s probably why he wants to be a clown,” Cheryl added.

“I like him. He’s cool,” Brittany spoke up unexpectedly.

“You’re too young to know what cool is,” said Taren disdainfully.

Brittany said nothing, but crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue and touched her nose with it.

As they talked, they were making their way down the beach. Further down the shore, the beach turned into woods.  Halting a few yards from the first trees, Rachel threw herself down on a sandy spot and sighed. “I’m so bored,” she said.

“Maybe we should get Paul to come down here and juggle for us,” Miriam suggested, and Rachel coughed, laughing.

“That’s good,” she said appreciatively.  She kicked at a pebble with her toe, picked it up and threw it in the water. Inside she wondered if Taylor would come through tonight.  She searched the deserted bay again for the hundredth time, disappointed.

Then she caught sight of a white plume rolling across the waters to her. A wake? A boat?

She stood up, hearing a motor, and scanned the darkness.  Then she saw it. A motorboat. Two motorboats. Coming in their direction. 

Now, not wanting to look too eager, she sat back down again on the sand. And that was okay, because the other girls were standing up, peering at the boats.

“I think they’re coming this way,” Miriam said in disbelief.

“Are they?” Cheryl said anxiously. “I’m going back up.”

Rachel cast a glance at Cheryl, who was decently clothed. Fortunately no one had yet gone swimming tonight. “Just stay here. Wait.”

Cheryl paused and the girls all watched as the two boats came close and cut their engines. Then they began to drift towards the shore.

“Hi there,” came a voice from one of them.

Rachel stood up, attempting languidness. “Taylor?” she called.

“The same,” the familiar voice said, and the twins exchanged delighted glances.

“You took your sweet time,” Rachel said.

“Sorry.”

“Well, come on in.”

“Where’s the best place to pull up?” a voice from the other boat asked. Rachel recognized Keith Kramer and smiled to herself.

“There’s a deep spot there, under the willows. Maybe if you can get the nose of the boat in there…”

“All right,” Taylor said.

The other girls had been listening to this exchange in silence. Rachel glanced at them. “Relax. It’s just Keith and Taylor from school,” she said.  “Who else is with you?” she called.

“Rich and Pete.”

“Pete! Omigosh, hi Pete!” Prisca’s voice came shrilly from further up the beach. She scrambled down, her green dress shimmering in the moonlight. She was wearing far more makeup than she could have gotten away with either at Bayside Christian or in front of her father, and looking much more mature than her fifteen years. It was actually a bit scary.

“Hi Prisca,” Pete said. “Uh, wow, you’re dressed up.”

“Oh, yeah, sort of. I was just trying it on. What are you doing here?”

“Rachel told us to come by, so we did.”

All the girls looked at Rachel, who, raising an eyebrow, smiled.  Taylor was edging his boat towards the willows. After a bit of maneuvering, he managed to get close enough for him to stagger onto the shore, followed by Pete and Rich, who were seniors like Rachel and Cheryl.  The second boat followed, and Keith Kramer and Alan Vonnegun got out.

“Hey Alan,” Rachel said. “Glad you could make it.”

“So am I,” he said. “Hey, when are you going to get me that CD?”

She laughed. Alan was a good friend: she was glad he had come along.  “I’ll get it to you.”

“So what are you girls up to?” Taylor asked as he reached the girls.

Rachel grinned. “Escaping parental supervision.”

“Seriously? Are all of you down here?”

“Yes. Like I told you, we’ve been doing this for the past couple weeks or so. It’s been fun, but you know, it’s always great to have company.” She smiled artfully at Keith, who flushed.

Taylor was checking out the beach. “This is really private. Your parents can’t see you from the house, can they?”

“No. Their bedroom faces the other way.  I’m glad you cut your motors when you did. Just in case they could hear anything.”

Rachel was dying to get off the beach, but she saw some preliminary socializing would be in order. So she sat down on the sand while the girls clustered around Taylor, Alan, Pete and Rich, chatting eagerly. 

“So how did you make it out here?” Rachel asked, as Keith Kramer sat down beside her.

“Oh, my parents went to bed. Then I just took off,” Keith said, with some exaggerated casualness. Rachel could see that he was reveling in the freedom of this nighttime adventure.

“And your parents let you take the boat out at night?” Rachel said innocently.

“Well, not exactly,” he said, “but if I fill up the tank with gas, my dad will never notice I was out.”

“So your parents don’t know what you’re up to,” she said with a smile.

“Uh…no.” He swallowed.

“Well,” Rachel teased, knowing she had him. “I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She sounded joking, but she had a feeling that Keith picked up on the threat, and realized he had made a big mistake.

“Nah, I’d never tell on you,” he said, a bit indignantly. He looked around. “Like Taylor said, this is a really neat… beach you have here.”

Keith scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Prisca, who was standing with the other boys, shrugging her shoulders, fluttering her eyelashes, and giggling to her heart’s content.

Rachel wanted to laugh. So much for Dad’s spy. But instead she walked down to the water where the youngest girls, who had quickly tired of the conversations, were splashing around. She started a splashing game with them, and then Taylor joined in. It was fun, but Rachel wasn’t anxious to get too wet, so after a few minutes, she sat down on a rock and Taylor sat next to her. As they talked, Melanie slipped over to sit with them, putting her head on Rachel’s shoulder.   

After about a quarter hour, Rachel looked at Taylor and said coaxingly, “Taylor, take us for a boat ride.”

Taylor said, hesitantly, “Sure, but are you all going to come?”

“Just me and Melanie and Cheryl,” Rachel said. “The rest can stay here or go with Keith.”

“Man, Alan should have brought his family’s boat. I told him he should have. It’s huge.”

“He should have,” exclaimed Rachel, disappointed.

“Well… maybe I can ask him to bring it tomorrow.”

“Good.” She stood up. “Come on, Cheryl! Melanie and I are going for a boat ride.”

Rachel had picked Cheryl deliberately because she sensed the older girl was irritated by the twins’ flirting with boys who were Cheryl’s classmates. Also, Rachel calculated that Cheryl would hesitate to go on a boat ride at first, but would probably enjoy it once she got out there. A small outing like this was the perfect time to persuade her conservative stepsister that they had nothing to fear.

Cheryl grudgingly joined them, after Taylor asked her to, and Melanie seemed happy so long as she was accompanying Rachel. They clambered into the swaying boat and settled themselves. Cheryl asked for, and got, a life jacket for herself and Melanie, but Rachel sat up front in the boat next to Taylor, letting the wind stream around her neck and through her hair as the powerful engine gunned to life and pulled her away. 

For the next half hour she lived in the rush of the wind and water, and by the time they headed back towards the shore, she was yearning for more. Only the need to keep their secret safe impelled her back home.

“Never been boating? Well, what have you been doing then?” The quotation came back to her—where had she heard that?  She realized, disconcerted, that she had heard it that evening, from Paul Fester.

“Taylor,” she said, as he let the boat drift back towards shore. “You have to tell the other guys that they can’t let on to anyone that they saw us here. Right?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll make sure I’ll tell them,” Taylor said, seriously.

“Keith won’t chicken out, will he?”

“He better not, or he’ll get us all in trouble,” Taylor said. “Are you worried that your dad will try to crack him?”

“Yeah, sort of,” Rachel said. “I mean, you know my dad. General Patton.”

“He’s been sounding out the guys in Bible group about what you girls have been up to. I was the only one who knew what he was getting at, and you know I won’t tell.” He grinned. “And now that the rest of them have been out here, I doubt they’re going to tell him either. I mean, we’d have to admit to Colonel ‘Patton’ that we were out with his daughters at night—alone!”

“Yeah, right!” Rachel laughed. This was exactly as she had hoped. Now she didn’t need to worry. “Thanks so much for coming by. Can you come again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” Rachel felt another thrill go through her. This was working. She looked out at the island standing aloof in the bay, and appraised it like a diamond.