25: Evil Ever After

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id76.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Kitcheners Strategy"><U><B>20:  Kitchener's Strategy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id79.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="21: Defensive Maneuvers"><U><B>21:  Defensive Maneuvers</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id80.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="22: Final Showdown"><U><B>22:  Final Showdown</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id81.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="23: The Ceremony"><U><B>23:  The Ceremony</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id82.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="24: Aftermath"><U><B>24:  Aftermath</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>25:  Evil Ever After</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>25:  Evil Ever After</B></div> <div> <B>On to the next part of the saga...</B></div> <div> <B>coming soon...</B></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      "Go to CaraLinda!"  That was Angelique's voice in his ear again.  Quentin bolted upright in bed.  In spite of the humidity in the early dawn air, he'd broken out in a cold sweat.  </div> <div>      Beth sat up too, immediately awakened.  "What's wrong?"</div> <div>      He swung his legs out of the bed.  He didn't want to tell her, remembering her reaction yesterday.  He didn't want to unduly distress her if he was just having nightmares.  "Must've drunk too much last night," he mumbled.  "I have to go really bad."  That, at least, was the truth.  He wasn't going to waste any time trying to find CaraLinda this morning.  It made sense to begin looking for her early; the funeral was this afternoon and it might take some time to locate her.  He'd go right after breakfast, and Beth would understand.</div> <div>      It was only eight o'clock when Quentin knocked at Gustav and Lucia's door, hoping someone was awake.  All the shades and curtains were drawn.  No one came to the door, and he started to go when he noticed a small movement at the corner of the window.  It was as if someone had pulled the drape back slightly to look to see who was there.  He backed down one of the steps to give the watcher a clear view and rapped sharply at the door again.  He waited, sure he had seen the movement.  After a few seconds, he rapped at the door again, harder.  This time, it opened a crack.  Lucia peered out at him, looking dismayed.  "CaraLinda ain't here," she whispered.</div> <div>      "Where is she?"  Quentin asked.  "Is she in town?"</div> <div>      Lucia shook her head, no.  "She's gone.  Better you go, too."</div> <div>      "Who is it, my dear?"  Gustav's voice said from behind.  Lucia started to shut the door in Quentin's face.</div> <div>      Confused, he called, "Gustav?  It's me--"</div> <div>      The door swung open, and Gustav stood there in the doorway with Lucia.  "Ah, my young friend!  I am happy to see you! Come in, come in!"  He glared at Lucia.  "And why did you not invite our <I>gaucho</I> friend in, Lucia?  Why are you being rude and unfriendly to one who has helped us so much?"</div> <div>      Lucia looked frightened and backed up.  "I--I didn't mean to--"</div> <div>      Something was disturbingly different here, Quentin realized.  It was too late to just leave, but he was very uncomfortable as he entered the house.  He followed Gustav to the kitchen.  Lucia shuffled along behind them, head down.  "I had hoped you would come to see us, my friend," Gustav was saying.  "There is much I wanted to tell you.  You are looking better.  How are you feeling?"</div> <div>      "All right--not so stiff and sore anymore," Quentin answered, feeling uneasy.  "Where is CaraLinda?"  Gustav indicated a chair at the kitchen table, and Quentin took it.</div> <div>      Gustav sat across from him.  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigar.  He crossed one leg over his knee and used the bottom of his boot to strike a match.  He lit his cigar and took an appreciative puff.  "Ah, forgive my, my friend," he said smoothly.  "Would you care for a cigar?"</div> <div>      "No, thanks," Quentin answered.  He didn't remember Gustav smoking a cigar in their other meetings, but perhaps he smoked them only occasionally.  Gustav smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.  They were flat and cold, like two stones in his head.  Quentin felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.  Everything was so strange...but why?  "CaraLinda is gone?"</div> <div>      "Ah, yes, CaraLinda.  We decided it would be most prudent for her to leave town.  While the boss may not suspect her yet, he is not a stupid man.  He will begin to suspect.  It was in her best interest to leave while she had the opportunity."</div> <div>      "Is she all right?"</div> <div>      "Quite.  She's quite safe, my friend."  There was something different about Gustav, Quentin realized with certainty.  He was carrying himself differently, and he was speaking differently.  In spite of his friendliness and cordiality, Quentin could feel warning bells of danger beginning to ring.  He tried to think of an excuse to get out quick.  Gustav was looking at him speculatively and said softly:  "I am sure you would like to know the final outcome of the ceremony, wouldn't you?"</div> <div>      "Well--" he began, uncomfortable.</div> <div>      "Let me tell you so that you can put your mind to rest.  I see the worry on your face, my young friend.  The Hand of Petofi is safely in my possession.  The strain of the ceremony--it was too much for the body of he who'd aged so rapidly.  I believe his heart just gave out.  What were we to do with this body?  We couldn't allow it to lie where it was, and we couldn't risk dumping it somewhere.  We dug a grave there in the barn, and there the great Petofi lies."</div> <div>      "Will you keep the Hand?  Or will CaraLinda?"  Quentin asked, his voice barely audible.  He wondered how much his actions had played in Petofi's death.  If he hadn't slashed the portrait--and yet, wasn't it better this way?  </div> <div>      "I, the <I>Rombaro</I>, will be responsible for the hand of the great Petofi."  </div> <div>      Quentin noticed that Gustav was still staring at him in a cold, impassive manner.  Something else flickered in his eyes, something unidentifiable but frightening.  "Gustav, I want to thank you for all your help."  He stood up and reluctantly held his hand out to the <I>Rombaro.  </I>"I have other family matters that need attending, so I need to go."</div> <div>      "Indeed you do," Gustav agreed.  He stood up and clasped Quentin's hand in both of his.  Their eyes locked on to each other.  Gustav smiled again.  Quentin felt his blood turn cold.  Why did that smile look like a wolf's grin?  "Go and attend to your family matters, my dear boy."  He was shaking Quentin's hand between his firmly.  At those words, Quentin drew back a little.  He was sure he felt Gustav stroke his hand before he let go.  He felt terror rising in him.</div> <div> "Go on," Gustav whispered.  "I am sure someday, some time, we will meet again.  We will reminisce over old times together, will we not, my boy?"</div> <div>      It can't be, Quentin thought, horrified.  Just that quickly, his impression of Gustav changed again.  Gustav was laughing heartily.  "You are a very brave man, my friend!  Always we will remember what you have done for us.  We are in your debt for all the rest of your days.  If you ever need anything, you need only ask.  I, Gustav, the <I>Rombaro, </I>say this is to be so."</div> <div>      "Thank you," Quentin whispered, still frightened but now confused as well.  Had he imagined how strange Gustav has just seemed?</div> <div>      "All you need do is say my name.  You will be granted any favor you need.  Like that!"  Gustav snapped his fingers.  He put his hand on Quentin's back and gently turned him toward the door.  "I hope all goes well for you, brave one.  And remember Gustav's words, no?  You have a friend in us forever."</div> <div>      Quentin stepped back out into the sunshine, feeling reassured.  He turned back to Gustav for a final farewell and was dismayed to see that cold, flat speculative look in his eyes again.  In an instant, the expression was replaced with one of warmth and good will.  "Take care," Quentin muttered.  He turned and hurried down the steps.</div> <div>      "You too, my boy!"  Gustav called after him.  He shut the door firmly, and Quentin thought he heard the sound of laughter as he strode away.  His mind was in turmoil.  Was it possible?  Could Petofi have transferred his mind into Gustav's the last minutes of his life?  He had to get home, home to Beth, and they had to get out as quickly as possible.  He wished they could just disappear; drop out of sight completely.  Vienna was looking better and better to him all the time.</div> <bR> <div>      Beth was in the kitchen when he got back to the Billings'.  Mrs. Cleary was busy washing the lunch dishes and trying to advise Beth how to manage servants.  "Y'see, I am here to help ye, an ye mustn't keep tryin to do me job for me," she was explaining in her friendly, pleasant lilt.</div> <div>      "I'm just not used to being in charge.  I'm used to doing these things myself," Beth answered, sounding embarrassed.</div> <div>      "Ye just need t'get used t'the feel of it, is all," Mrs. Cleary assured her. Both women turned as Quentin entered the kitchen.</div> <div>      "What's wrong?" Beth asked immediately. </div> <div>      Quentin sat in a chair at the table, surprised that Beth knew he was terribly shaken so quickly.  "Would you get me something to drink?" he asked hoarsely.</div> <div>      "Sure, an I will, young Whosis," Mrs. Cleary said smoothly, trying to kid him.  "Nice cold lemonade, that'll do--won't it?"</div> <div>      "Thank you," he answered.  Beth sat down at the table next to him and took his hand.  Mrs. Cleary set the glass of ice cold lemonade in front of him and discreetly announced she would check on the children in the back yard.  "Beth--"</div> <div>      "You are so pale!  What happened when you went to see CaraLinda?"  Beth asked, squeezing his hand, looking anxious herself now.</div> <div>      "I don't know.  Gustav says he's dead, but there was something different about him. Beth--I wasn't sure, but for a few moments I thought maybe Gustav WAS Petofi."</div> <div>      "Oh, Quentin, no!  What makes you think so?"</div> <div>      "The whole thing was just so eerie and strange!  We've got to get out of here--as quickly as possible.  Let's pack up, get Nora, the children, and just go."</div> <div>      "We can't do that, Quentin--there's the funeral in a couple of hours.  And these came for you today," Beth said, picking up a large envelope from the table.  Quentin looked at it, fearfully.  "It's all right," she whispered.  "It came from Mr. Darrow's office.  We just need to get Nora to sign it."</div> <div>      "And then we'll pack everything and get the hell out."</div> <div>      "Tell me what happened, darling.  Maybe you're over-reacting."</div> <div>      Quentin got up abruptly, knocking the chair over.  Beth jumped, badly startled.  "I'm NOT over-reacting!  You're UNDER-reacting!" he snapped harshly, suddenly furious from the strain and fear.  "You didn't believe me the last time, either!" he said accusingly, as an unwelcome memory suddenly became burst forth in his mind.  He turned and ran up the back steps.</div> <div>      "What are you talking about?" he heard Beth say as he stormed up the stairs.  He strode down the hall to their bedroom.  The terror and suspicion he'd felt at Gustav's returned and combined with not only memories of his most recent encounter with Petofi, but those of before--1897.  When Petofi had switched bodies with him, he'd never been so terrified.  No one had believed him until it was almost too late--not even his beloved Beth had believed.  Without thinking, he swept all her things on top of the dresser to the floor.  The perfume bottle shattered, sending small shards of glass across the floor.  The scent she used rose up around him, only fueling his anger and resentment.  "Quentin, what on earth is the matter with you?" he heard her ask, clearly shocked.  She was in the doorway, staring at him wide-eyed.</div> <div>      "You didn't believe me then, why should you now?" he muttered.</div> <div>      Beth came in and shut the door behind her, leaning against it.  "I don't understand you.  What are you talking about?"</div> <div>      "Before!  When he switched his mind into mine!  I told you he did it, but you didn't believe me.  That's why you don't believe me now!"  His voice was rising.</div> <div>      "I didn't say I didn't believe you--I only said maybe you were over--well, maybe you imagined something because of all the stress you've been under and everything that's happened.  Dave told us that CaraLinda left a message that he died.  Did she tell you something different?"</div> <div>      "Did I say I saw CaraLinda?  Well, I didn't!  She was gone--left town, like we've got to!  I didn't see her--I saw Gustav!"  He snapped irritably.</div> <div>      "Did he say anything different?"</div> <div>      "No, no!  He said the same thing--Petofi had a heart attack and they buried him in the barn."  His voice was rising again.  He remembered begging Beth to believe him--to go to the person impersonating him and ask about Jamison.  That would've been a give-away--Beth would know the truth then.  But she'd never come back.  She hadn't believed, and he'd been left alone.</div> <div>      "What happened with Gustav, Quentin?  What makes you think he's Petofi?"  Beth was asking.  She jumped when he slammed his fist onto the dresser top.  "What's the matter with you?"  she asked again, and now the concern in her voice was mixed with irritation and frustration as well.</div> <div>      "He only said CaraLinda left--maybe SHE'S the one buried under the barn!"  How dared she be annoyed with him when she hadn't believed him in the very first place?  "Why should I tell you about Gustav?  You won't believe me."</div> <div>      She looked as if she was making a visible effort to control herself.  "Why are you talking like that?"</div> <div>      "Because I think he did to Gustav what he did to me.  And you didn't believe me then, so why the hell would you believe me now?"  He felt himself losing control of his escalating anger, and he made no effort to stop it.  In his unreasoning fury, he wanted to strike out and hurt Beth--retaliation for the hurt he thought she caused him.  "You never came back to me after I told you to go and test Petofi.  You didn't believe me.  You believed him, and you stayed with him.  How could you do that to me, Beth?  You supposedly were in love with me.  If you loved me, you should've known that I was telling you the truth.  You should've known HE was not me!"</div> <div>      "I DID know," she said heatedly.</div> <div>      "No you didn't," he argued.  "You never came back to me after I talked to you.  How can you say you loved me when you stayed with him?"</div> <div>      She turned bright red.  "How could you say you loved me and then get engaged to Angelique?"</div> <div>      "I thought you understood about her!  She forced me to, to save Jamison!  You can't bring that up now!"</div> <div>      "Oh, yes, I can!  Yes, I understand what she did--but you didn't love me enough to tell me that she was blackmailing you!"</div> <div>      "I didn't want to hurt you!"</div> <div>      "Oh?  So you thought that leading us both on would be less hurtful?  Very thoughtful of you, Quentin!"</div> <div>      He couldn't think of a reasonable answer to that so he retreated angrily.  "We're not talking about Angelique anyway!  We're talking about Petofi and why you believed him over me.  You're the one that left me--you went to him.  You stayed with him.  And when I came to you for help, you turned your back on me."</div> <div>      "I left YOU?"  Beth advanced on him a little, furious now.  "What choice did you leave me?  Did you come to me and say, 'Stay Beth, I'll work it out somehow'?  No, you didn't!"</div> <div>      "You were going to shoot me!"</div> <div>      "You weren't going to make things right whether I was going to shoot you or not, and you know it!  You weren't going to tell Angelique off, were you?  And even if I hadn't tried to shoot you, you wouldn't have tried to get me to go away with you.  And once I left, did you follow me?  No!  If you'd loved me so much, you would have.  No, you just threw yourself at that new girl--Amanda what's-her-name!"</div> <div>      This was not going in the direction he wanted at all.  He didn't want his discretions and mistakes thrown in his face; he wanted to focus on hers.  "That's because you left me!  If you hadn't left me for Petofi, I never would've looked at her!"   Beth put her hands on her hips and gave him an infuriatingly knowing "oh-come-on-now" look.  She didn't say anything.  He exploded.  "That doesn't excuse what you did!  You were trying to betray Barnabas and me!  Why did you stay with that old degenerate, Beth?  Did he seduce you, or did he wait until he was in my body?"</div> <div>      "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response!"  Beth's reddened features suddenly blanched and then darkened with fury again.</div> <div>      "Why not?  It's true, isn't it?  He did make love to you while he was in my body, didn't he?"</div> <div>      "Quentin..." Beth said warningly.</div> <div>      "If you loved me so much, how come you didn't notice the difference between his lovemaking and mine?"</div> <div>      Beth's hands clenched into fists.  "If you would shut your mouth and think a minute about all the things we've said to each other, you'd know the answer to that.  And I told you that I knew he was different from you!"</div> <div>      He didn't want to shut his mouth and think.  He was too angry and hurt.  She'd managed to sting him with her barbs and so he wanted to hurt her back.   "Oh, you knew?  You liked him better then?  He said he liked women, too.  Maybe he had some way of fucking you that you just liked better, eh?"</div> <div>      She'd drawn her hand back and slapped his face before he had a chance to react and stop her.  With the force of the blow, he felt his teeth bite down on the inside of his lip--that really hurt. "How dare you say that to me! You have a lot of nerve, you who slept with anyone in a skirt who'd respond to you. Angelique and that Amanda person and all the whores I haven't even asked you about--Peggy and who knows how many others!  You fool, I never slept with him!  You should've known better!"  He looked at her, shocked and hurt, his hand to his cheek.  Time to put on the hurt-little-boy act, he thought, realizing he'd gone too far. Before he could say a word, though, she turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her.</div> <div>      He followed her, opening the door.  She was half running down the hall, toward the stairs.  "Beth!" he called.</div> <div>      "Leave me alone!  I don't want to talk to you right now!"  she called back in a broken voice.  She was crying.</div> <div>      He slammed the door.  That wasn't enough.  He opened the door and slammed it again, over and over.  The last time he did it, he saw Eddie standing in the hall.  The boy looked at him reproachfully.  "Well?" Quentin snapped at him.</div> <div>      "You shouldn't try to break the door like that," Eddie said in a disapproving tone.  "I just came in to get ready--to bury my father."</div> <div>      Quentin's rage dissipated in the face of the grief he saw in Eddie's eyes.  "I'm sorry, kid," he said.  "I guess it's getting to be time for the service, huh?  I better get dressed, too."  He shut the door and leaned his head against it, not wanting to wait for an answer. He sighed.  He was sorry for the awful things he'd said to Beth, but he still wasn't satisfied with her answers.  If she really did know the difference between him and Petofi, then why hadn't she returned to him?  And he wasn't sure he believed Petofi hadn't slept with her.  There was that conversation about wanting the "better things" in life...</div> <div>      "I'll help you with your ribbons, honey," he heard Beth's voice in the hall.  It sounded soothing, loving.  He opened the door and looked out.  Beth was taking Mary Jane to her room.  She looked toward him, hearing the door open.  Her face lost its sweet smile.  "NO!" she mouthed at him, emphatically.  She went with Mary Jane into the child's room and shut the door.  He was tempted to slam the door again but, remembering Eddie, restrained himself.  Once the door was shut, though, he kicked it.  Then he felt foolish.</div> <div>      He took his time getting dressed, waiting for Beth to come back.  She sure was taking her sweet old time, he thought resentfully.  He was slowly re-tying his tie for the fourth time before Beth finally came in.  She was stiff with anger, her eyes still red with recently shed tears, and she moved around him to go to the closet for her dress.  "Beth, you hit me--" he began reproachfully.  It wasn't the right way to begin.</div> <div>      She whirled on him.  "Yes, I did, and I'd do it again in a minute!  Don't talk to me!  I am so angry with you right now I could scratch your eyes out as well!  That you would think that I'd sleep with that creature and use such vulgar language to me--like I was a--a--"</div> <div>      He sighed.  "I made this mistake with Angelique, too," he muttered to himself, thinking that Angelique had become very angry when he'd compared her behavior to Petofi's.  If Beth had been so repulsed by him, why did she stay?  Belatedly, he realized Beth heard him.</div> <div>      "Angelique!"  Beth spat out.  "You trust her--you told me so!  After everything she did to you and me, you still trusted her. And you slept with her, too, didn't you Quentin?  Not long ago--at Cuddeback, didn't you?  You slept with her and trusted her in spite of everything, but you don't even extend the same courtesy to me!"</div> <div>      She had a point, he suddenly realized and was ashamed of himself.  He put his hands on her shoulders.  "I'm sorry, but--" he began.</div> <div>      "Don't 'but' me, Quentin!  Let go!  I want to get dressed!"  She pulled away.  </div> <div>      "Can't we talk about this?"</div> <div>      "Not now!  We're burying Mary Jane and Eddie's father!"  She snapped, pulling out a black dress she'd bought for the funeral.  "Stop being selfish and thinking about your feelings. I could be selfish, too, and question you about how you betrayed me--over and over."</div> <div>      "I didn't betray you, though--" he protested, outraged.</div> <div>      "Oh, please!  You didn't have the decency to come and tell me what Angelique was doing to you.  Instead, you avoided me and lied to me and left it to her to tell me--and that was so humiliating, but you didn't care!  I would have understood and tried to help if you'd just told me.  You were just too much of a coward to be honest with me!"  Her voice had begun to rise as her eyes filled with tears again. "And you went after Amanda Harris without giving me a thought at all.  You didn't care where I was.  You were too taken with her!" </div> <div>      "What was I supposed to do?  She was a guest--be rude to her?  And you left me--you didn't tell me where you were going.  How was I supposed to know?  And I was attracted to her because I missed you!"</div> <div>      "Stop lying, Quentin!  You promised me you wouldn't lie!"  Her voice was not only angry now but also reproachful.  She turned her back on him and waved him away.  "This isn't the time to talk about this.  Go and see how Eddie is holding up.  He could use your help!"</div> <div>      "But--"</div> <div>      "Get out!" she hissed between clenched teeth, and he drew back.  He wasn't used to seeing her so angry or so forceful.  "I don't want to talk to you anymore now!  We'll discuss this later.  Now, would you just GO?" She was struggling hard to get control of herself.  She hugged herself, trying to hold back the tears.  He reached out to touch her, and she slapped his hand away, hard.</div> <div>      "You don't want to fix things between us," he said harshly, shaking his hand.  "Don't hit me again, Beth."</div> <div>      "Then-get-out!"</div> <div>      "I'm going!"  He slammed the door forcefully again.  He stood there uncertainly a minute, then crossed the hall and knocked at Eddie's door.  Eddie was fully dressed and very pale.  His eyes were swollen but apparently he'd stopped crying.  "You okay?"  he asked.  He wondered if Eddie had heard him arguing with Beth and felt awkward and embarrassed.  </div> <div>      Eddie nodded. If he'd heard them, he had the good manners to keep it to himself.  "I've been thinking--" he began, tentatively.  He stepped back into his bedroom and sat down on his bed, picking up his mitt.  Quentin sat down next to him.  "I know you are going to be moving on because of the trouble you and my father were in," he said softly, putting the mitt on and thumping his hand in the empty pocket.  Quentin waited.  Eddie finally went on, "I like you a lot, you know that?  I'd like to stay with you, but..." he licked his lips and hesitated.</div> <div>      "But...?" </div> <div>      "All my friends are here.  The Cubs' scouts are in town.  They come here a lot.  They wouldn't go to that place we go to...Cuddeback."</div> <div>      "What are you saying, Eddie?"</div> <div>      "I don't want to go there.  I want to stay with my cousin Matthew's family," Eddie said in a rush.  He flushed, looking down at the floor.</div> <div>      "Did you think I'd be mad, or not understand?"  Quentin asked. Eddie shrugged. "I'm not mad, and I do understand.  I'd rather you stay with us, Eddie, but you're no little boy."</div> <div>      "That's it, too," Eddie said.  "I'll be sixteen soon. I don't have anything in common with all these little bitty kids."</div> <div>      "Well, that shouldn't be a reason to stay here," Quentin objected.  "You could learn to get along with them.  But I understand about your friends.  And baseball scouts?  Are you going to try out for them?"</div> <div>      "I play good," Eddie said.  "Even you said so.  I'm no student, like Phil.  I want to play ball.  I think I can do it--but not if I'm at Cuddeback."</div> <div>      "Will you send us tickets to the game once you're on the team?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      Eddie looked at Quentin, startled, a grateful expression on his face.  Slowly, he began to grin.  "Sure I will.  Front row.  Third base line."</div> <div>      "You're on," Quentin said.  "Come on.  You ready to go?"</div> <div>      He met Beth in the hall.  She didn't look angry; she looked cool and composed.  He could tell by the tightened muscles in her jaw that she was still very angry with him, and it disconcerted him.  As he felt the depth of her fury at him, he felt his own dissipating into something else--insecure fear.  Was she so angry with him that she'd just leave him, fed up with his childish behavior?  She went into Mary Jane's room.  He was surprised to see Mrs. Cleary in there too.  He hadn't heard her come up the steps.</div> <div>      Mary Jane was crying.  "I don't want them to put my daddy in the ground.  It's dark down there!"</div> <div>      "Ah, puir darlin, sure an yer Daddy doesn't mind the dark, now.  The good Lord Jesus has already come and taken your Daddy to heaven.  Tis just his body we lay to rest now," Mrs. Cleary was saying in a comforting tone.  She looked up at them.  "She'll be all right in a minute."</div> <div>      "I know she will be," Beth answered softly.</div> <div>      Quentin was grateful Mrs. Cleary wasn't one of those really "good" Catholics--ones that preached purgatory and damnation.  "Maybe we can wait downstairs?" he suggested tentatively.</div> <div>      "Go on, then, an we'll not be another minute.  I'll be bringin her down to ye then," Mrs. Cleary assured them.</div> <div>      Eddie walked on and ran down the steps.  Quentin took this opportunity to take Beth by the elbow. "Beth, please--" he began.  She turned and looked at him coldly.  "I'm sorry," he said, using a pleading tone he hoped would soften her up toward him.  "Can't we settle this?"</div> <div>      Her expression didn't waver, to his surprise and dismay.  "There's too much to talk about right now.  We have to get through this funeral, and then we need to go and see Nora.  She's got to sign those papers.  Then we'll come home and talk it all out.  You just have to be patient."</div> <div>      "How can I be patient when you're so angry with me?"</div> <div>      "You'll manage.  I am."  She started down the stairs.  He couldn't believe his ears.  He started down after her.  He grabbed her hand, squeezing it.  She stopped again, looking at him, then at their hands.  She didn't squeeze his hand back; however, she also didn't pull away from him.  That was a relief.  Her continuing coldness bothered and annoyed him, though.  It wasn't fair, he thought resentfully.</div> <div>      He endured the funeral service for the sake of Nora's children.  Personally, he felt pretty much the same way Nora did and was relieved to see that she didn't change her mind and come for the services.  Petofi could've put Phillip in the coupe, filled it with concrete and sunk it in the middle of Lake Michigan as far as Quentin was concerned.  Even little Mary Jane held up well at the cemetery.  Beth had discreetly whisked her away from the room before the coffin lid was closed for good.  Fortunately, Phillip's face looked all right.  Dave had told Quentin that if a gangster was really mad at you, they'd shoot you in the face so your own family couldn't look at you at the wake.  He shuddered, thinking of Gustav again.</div> <div>      Beth felt him shudder and looked at him but didn't offer any words of comfort or say anything to him at all.  Cranky, he let go of her hand and shoved both his hands in his pockets, waiting for the service to end.  Beth took her now freed hand to put it over Mary Jane's so that the little girl's tiny hand was now between both of Beth's.  The child looked stunned and lost.  Although she liked Beth, she missed Mrs. Cleary, who had stayed at the Billings' to watch Peter and Katie.</div> <div>      The service was finally over, and Quentin and Eddie walked with Matthew Billings to his car.  He told Matthew quietly that they would be leaving Chicago, but that Eddie wanted to stay with his cousin's family.  "That's fine.  We'd be glad to have Eddie," Matthew agreed.  He shook hands with Quentin.</div> <div>      "We'll move your stuff over to your cousin's before we go," Quentin said to Eddie, as they all got back into Phillip Jr.'s car.</div> <div>      "When are you going?"  Eddie asked.</div> <div>      Quentin wanted to say, "Tonight" but he and Beth had to settle their quarrel first.  Instead, he answered, "Soon, Eddie.  Within a few days."  They drove back to the Billings' house to drop Mary Jane off with Mrs. Cleary.  Eddie wanted to come to the hospital to see his mother and had understood when Quentin explained about Nora's mood swings.  He wanted to try anyway; if she didn't want to see him now, he'd just come back later.  Quentin hoped Nora was in a sociable mood; Eddie had been through enough as it was.  He was relieved to have the boys along; Beth's silence was rattling him.</div> <div>      He didn't expect that her sons would be the very people Nora wanted to see. She may not have loved Phillip Sr. anymore but she knew that her sons still did and apparently had enough maternal instincts left to know how they must feel. She seemed to genuinely love Phillip Jr.; maybe she had some feeling for Eddie as well.  However, Quentin noted that she did not ask about Mary Jane.  Beth said, "Why don't we leave you alone and come back later, Nora?"</div> <div>      Nora smiled, her eyes shiny with tears.  "Thank you."</div> <div>      As they walked down the hall, Quentin tentatively put his arm around Beth's waist.  "Want some ice cream?"  he asked.  "There's that little place nearby--"</div> <div>      "All right," she said coolly.</div> <div>      He sighed miserably.  They went to the little place across the street and sat down at a booth, ordering root beer floats. When the waitress left, Quentin leaned over and whispered, "How long are you going to keep punishing me, Beth?  All day?"</div> <div>      "I'm not punishing you."</div> <div>      "Yes, you are.  You're cold.  You're angry with me."</div> <div>      "That's right.  I told you I was angry.  You think I'm punishing you because I'm not falling all over you with loving sympathy--'poor Quentin, his feelings are hurt'.  Is that it?  Well, what about MY feelings?  You said awful things to me.  You said that nasty word to me like I was a common whore."</div> <div>      "I'm sorry," Quentin muttered.  "I didn't understand.  I still don't."</div> <div>      "Do you really want to discuss this here?"</div> <div>      "I can't stand to go on this way much longer."</div> <div>      "Well, I had to put up with your moods for much longer than a couple of hours.  There were times you wouldn't talk to me for days.  I wanted to talk to you--I needed to, and you'd just put me off.  You didn't care to deal with it.  You'd drink yourself into a stupor or fly into a rage.  And I was supposed to understand all that and just take it.  It wasn't fair, Quentin."</div> <div>      "No, it wasn't.  And now you're going to show me what it feels like, aren't you?  I didn't think you were vindictive, Beth."  Immediately, he knew he'd said the wrong thing again.  Her eyes grew huge, flamed with anger, and then filled with tears.</div> <div>      "Vindictive, Quentin?  I'm just controlling myself so I don't say something we'll both regret," Beth said finally, controlling herself.</div> <div>      He felt his anger and resentment rising again.  "You're the one not being fair," he whispered hoarsely.  "Look, all I was trying to do was tell you about Petofi--that we have to get out of here.  And you say I'm over-reacting.  All I meant before was that you didn't listen to me then, either."</div> <div>      "Let's just take this one at a time," Beth answered with an air of annoying calmness.  "Tell me again why you thought Gustav was Petofi."</div> <div>      He was tempted to say something about her attitude; to make a snide remark about her doubting him no matter what he told her. The words were almost out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  What are you doing, you idiot? he castigated himself. Trying to make things worse--why?  So he paused, collecting his thoughts.  Beth waited patiently.  He began to tell her, then, calmly, everything that had happened from the time Lucia had opened the door: her apparent new fear of Gustav, the new way he carried himself, the vocabulary he used, and the cigar he'd smoked.  He thought he might have been imagining things, but as he talked he became more and more sure that something had been wrong in that house.  He saved the most convincing evidence he had for last.  "When he shook my hand, Beth, it was almost like he--I don't know what the right word is.  It's like what I do with your hand sometimes." </div> <div>      She gave him her hand.  "Show me what you mean."</div> <div>      He held her hand between his gently, studying it.  She had such delicate hands; her bones were so light and fine.  Her fingers were long and slender, like his.  Very gently, he caressed her hand.  Even though he felt anger and resentment toward her, he still loved her and could feel the beginning stirrings of desire.  He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her fingers.</div> <div>      "He didn't do that," she said, shocked.</div> <div>      "No, not that," he laughed.  </div> <div>      "This isn't funny," she snapped.</div> <div>      "I'm sorry.  He did everything up to this kiss."  Quentin stroked her hand gently and briefly, just a moment.  "That's what he did."  Now she looked at him with dismay.  "That's not all.  A couple of times he called me, 'my boy.'  Gustav never did that, not once.  And Beth, there was something about his eyes.  They were cold and flat, like there was nothing alive behind them."  He shuddered again.</div> <div>      "You're right, Quentin.  Maybe it is him.  We'd better leave as quickly as possible. But what about Jamison?  Do you think he might act against him again, from revenge?"</div> <div>      Quentin looked up from her hand with mixed feelings.  "So now you believe me?"</div> <div>      "Now that I've heard it all, of course I do.  Do you think you should warn Jamison?"</div> <div>      "I don't know if he'd be sober enough to understand.  I can talk to Walsh. I can talk to Tom Haskell at the plant again--tell him to watch out for gypsies in the area. Beth?  Why didn't you believe me back then?"</div> <div>      Beth looked hurt, then irritated.  "Why do you keep insisting I didn't believe you?"</div> <div>      "Well, you didn't, did you?  You stayed there.  You didn't come back to me."</div> <div>      "Yes, I stayed there.  But think about what you're saying Quentin. If I thought you were lying to me, then why did I run to Widows' Hill, away from you?  It was because I believed what you said.  I didn't know you'd switched back."  He was shocked.  He'd never thought of that.  He was about to say so when she thrust his hands away from her and got up.  "I'm finished with my soda.  We've given Nora enough time, don't you think?  We should go back."</div> <div>      "Why won't you talk to me about this?" he complained</div> <div>      "I don't want to right now.  How does it feel?  And yes, maybe I'm being vindictive--I guess I've earned that right."  At his resentful glower, she moderated her tone. "The truth is, I don't want to talk anymore--but it's not to be mean to you. I don't care if you don't believe it.  I just don't want to fight with you again, and I'm beginning to feel very angry with you again.  So let's just not talk about this anymore right now, all right?"</div> <div>      "When are we going to talk, then?  How long is it going to take for you to get over being mad at me?"</div> <div>      She looked exasperated.  "Don't you listen to anything I say to you, Quentin Collins?"</div> <div>      "Beth, come on!  Give me a break, willya?  A lot has been happening--"</div> <div>      "Yes, I know!  You've been through a lot, an awful lot.  And so have I."  She glared at him, but at his aw-please expression her mouth twitched a little.  "My parents never went to sleep angry.  I thought that was very wise of them.  I told you that before.  Do you think you could make try to remember it from now on?"</div> <div>      He got up to pay the check, leaving a nickel for the waitress.  He felt stung and glad to be preoccupied with paying the check.  As he turned back, he muttered, "Your parents didn't have to worry about whether or not one of them slept with Petofi."</div> <div>      "I told you the answer to that as well!" she snapped, opening the door and walking out.  She crossed the street to the hospital without him.  He felt angry with her again.  He was trying really hard to make up with her, and this was how she paid his him back for his efforts. He remembered what she'd said--she did run from him.  She did fall over the cliff and die.  If she'd believed he was Quentin all along, she wouldn't have run from him, would she?  But then, why didn't she come to him at the mill? Why did she stay at Collinwood with Petofi?  Damn it, what does she expect me to think? he thought bitterly.</div> <div>      Beth was already back in Nora's room when he joined them, a sullen expression on his face.  Nora looked first at Beth, then at Quentin.  Her mouth twisted at the corners wryly, and Quentin wanted to grab her and shake her.  Women!  Spiteful, cold-blooded creatures, he thought.  Warm in one place only.  "Quentin?" Beth prompted, interrupting his bitter ruminations.</div> <div>      "Oh," he said.  He was too irritated to be tactful.  "Look, Nora, Dr. Brunton thinks you're a danger to yourself.  He thinks you ought to be institutionalized--" Quentin broke off as Eddie drew his breath in sharply.  He'd forgotten the two boys and mentally kicked himself.</div> <div>      "You okay?  You want to go get a soda?" Phillip asked his brother.</div> <div>      "No, I want to hear," Eddie said stubbornly, although his face had become very pale.</div> <div>      "You know I don't belong in an institution," Nora stated flatly.</div> <div>      "I know.  But I think it would be easier to get you out of here if you would sign this paper.  I can sign you out of here and we can go to Cuddeback tomorrow if you want."</div> <div>      "Let me see that," Phillip demanded, holding out his hand.  Quentin looked at Nora, and she nodded.  Reluctantly, he handed the paper over to Phillip.  "This says my mother isn't competent to care for herself.  It gives custody of her and my brother and sister to you!"</div> <div>      Nora turned accusing eyes on him.  "Yes, that's right," Quentin said evenly.</div> <div>      "I'm not incompetent!" Nora shouted.</div> <div>      "Look, Beth knows about this, and she agreed to it," Quentin said defensively.  "This is to get you the hell out of here, Nora!  I'm not putting you in any institution!  This is the easiest way to get Dr. Brunton to release you--into my custody."  At Nora's bitter, resentful look, Quentin appealed to his wife.  "Beth, please!"</div> <div>      "This isn't to trick you, Nora, really," Beth explained obligingly.  "Quentin talked to Dr. Brunton, and he was very reluctant to release you.  He wanted to have you committed to one of the state asylums.  Matthew suggested getting this power of attorney so we could act in your best interest, so Quentin talked to Mr. Darrow.  He arranged these papers, Nora.  He's a kind man, and he has no intention of tricking you, either.  And Quentin and I visited the institutions here, and we would never leave you there.  We know you don't belong there."</div> <div>      "Humph," Nora muttered.</div> <div>      "I wish you'd trust us.  We need to get out of Chicago as quickly as possible, and this is the easiest way to do it.  Don't you want to come to Cuddeback with us?"</div> <div>      Nora nodded, slightly mollified.</div> <div>      "What about me?" Eddie asked.</div> <div>      "I talked to Matthew, Eddie.  It's settled--you can stay with him," Quentin promised.</div> <div>      "No one asked ME!"  Nora exclaimed. Quentin rolled his eyes impatiently.  "See here!  I am his mother!  You're not his father!  Who do you think you are?"</div> <div>      "Nobody, Nora, that's who I am," Quentin said querulously, and Beth flashed a sharp, reproving look at him.  He glared back at her.</div> <div>      "Gee whiz, Mama, I don't want to go to Cuddeback," Eddie complained.  "I want to go back to school with the fellas.  If you make me go to Cuddeback, I'll just run away."</div> <div>      "This is YOUR fault, Quentin, making him think of baseball and filling his head with nonsense--" Nora began, and Quentin left the room.  The hell with this, he thought.  They can all take a long walk off a short pier in Cuddeback.  He walked down the hall and out the door.  He was pretty sure Dave had left town already or he would've started walking in that direction.  Instead, he walked back across the street to the ice cream parlor.</div> <div>      "You sure look down in the mouth, pal," the soda jerk said.  "Where's the pretty lady that was here before?"</div> <div>      "Inside with a dying relative," Quentin said morosely.  "I sure could use a drink, but I guess the strongest thing you've got is root beer, hey?"</div> <div>      "You swear you aint one of those new FBI Elliot Ness revenooers?" the man behind the counter whispered. </div> <div>      "No, I'm not.  I swear on my mother's grave."  At least this was the truth.</div> <div>      "Okay, pal.  I feel for ya, havin a dyin relative.  Who is it?  Yours or hers?"</div> <div>      "Mine."</div> <div>      The soda jerk disappeared under the counter and came up with a bottle of cold beer.  "Will this do ya?"</div> <div>      "Yeah," Quentin accepted gratefully.  Much better than root beer.  "Got more of these?"</div> <div>      "Sure, sure.  But one at a time.  Gotta put it in a green glass. Hold on a minute, okay?"  The soda jerk poured the beer into a frosty green glass and gave it to Quentin with a straw.  Quentin's eyebrows shot up.  "Hey, we gotta make it look good!"</div> <div>      Quentin shrugged.  Beer through a straw.  Prohibition was nuts.  He was on his third beer when he saw Beth coming down the steps of the hospital.  She looked a little uncertain, and he was pleased.  However, she crossed the street and came directly into the ice cream parlor.  She sat down next to him and slid the legal piece of paper toward him.  "She signed it."</div> <div>      "Bravo," he said.  He set the glass in front of her.  "Care to share?" he asked.</div> <div>      She wrinkled her nose at him, but pulled the glass closer so she could sip through the straw. She smiled, very slightly, and took another sip.  "That's not ice cream."</div> <div>      "Nope."</div> <div>      The soda jerk approached them.  "Ma'am, I'm sorry about that dying relative of your husband's," he said sympathetically.</div> <div>      "Oh, thank you," Beth answered, looking from him to Quentin.  "Don't worry, I think everything will be all right.  She's not dying anymore."</div> <div>      "Well, that's good news, then!  Get you anything?"</div> <div>      "Thank you, no, I think we should go home, don't you, dear?"</div> <div>      "'Dear' is it?  Anything you say, darling," Quentin said sardonically, getting up and leaving a few bills for the soda jerk's generosity.  He took Beth's elbow and gallantly escorted her back to the car where Eddie was waiting.  Maybe she wasn't angry anymore--he hoped.  On the way home, they talked about packing everyone up and getting ready to leave Chicago.  Eddie would be dropped off at Matthew's (Nora had reluctantly given in there as well), and everyone else would go to Cuddeback.  "I'll bet we can get Mrs. Cleary to come with us."</div> <div>      "What for?"  Beth asked, sounding defensive.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at her.  "To help you, of course."</div> <div>      "I've never needed help running a house before--I really don't feel comfortable telling her what to do."</div> <div>      Quentin laughed.  "You'll get used to it.  Besides, you've never had to take care of so many people.  Nora, three children," he hesitated a moment and then looked at her, hopefully, "and me?"</div> <div>      "You?  In that case, I'll need all the help I can get."</div> <div>      He looked at her again, trying to tell if she was kidding.  He couldn't see her features; it was too dark.  "Thanks a lot," he muttered, feeling suddenly irritable again.</div> <div>      "We'll discuss it at home," she said with finality.</div> <div>      "I can't wait!"  This time, he felt her look at him, but he refused to take his eyes off the road.  He didn't speak again the rest of the way home.  He left Beth to help get all the children ready and settled for bed.  He went directly to their bedroom.  He had a bottle of brandy up there for "special" occasions.  While this was not exactly what he had in mind, it was definitely special. He had some glasses on his dresser from his confrontation with Petofi.  Beth had washed them out, but he asked her to leave them in the room--why not?  However, since Beth wasn't here to see or share, he opened the bottle and drank right from it.  He'd always preferred the taste of brandy to scotch; it went down a lot smoother.</div> <div>      He'd been waiting for what seemed a long time, impatiently.  He heard Beth moving around with Mary Jane, Peter, and Katie, bathing them, getting them ready for bed.  He could hear her voice in someone's room, reading.  Her voice sounded sweet and soothing, and he drifted off.  He didn't hear her open the door and come into their room; he didn't know she was there until she sat on foot of the bed.  His eyes flew opened.  She didn't look angry, but she wasn't looking at him in her usual loving way, either.  "You're still mad at me," he said.</div> <div>      She looked at the brandy bottle, then back at him.  "And you're angry with me."</div> <div>      He didn't deny it. Sitting up, he picked up the bottle and indicated the glasses on his dresser.  "Join me, my dear?"</div> <div>      "I don't need to," she said mildly.</div> <div>      "You're so much better than I am, that's an established fact."</div> <div>      "Let's not begin this way, Quentin, please.  I'm not criticizing you.  If you want some brandy, then have some.  If it would make you feel better, I'll have some too."</div> <div>      "It would make me feel better."     Beth got up obligingly and got the glasses off the dresser.  Quentin poured a drink for each of them and handed a glass to Beth.  "I was saving this for a 'special' occasion.  I guess the 'special' occasion is this fight."</div> <div>      "I didn't want to make it a fight.  It doesn't have to be.  We've both hurt each other.  Let's try to not to do that anymore," Beth said softly, sounding reasonable and conciliatory.</div> <div>      "Okay," Quentin lifted his glass and took a drink from it. Beth waited expectantly, so he plunged right in.  "You said you believed me when Petofi switched bodies with me.  I still don't understand why you didn't leave Collinwood."</div> <div>      "He put me off when I asked him about Jamison.  He wouldn't look me in the eye.  That wasn't especially different--you'd done that to me many, many times.  I did watch him, though, and I did see things that were different.  I noticed things--just as you did with Gustav.  He listened to Mozart when he thought no one was paying attention.  You never did.  He had a way of saying things--it was different from you.  It insults my intelligence for you to sit there and accuse me of not knowing the difference between you and he."</div> <div>      "All right, all right," Quentin said grudgingly, irritated.  He took another drink.  "But why did you stay there, then?  I didn't think you believed me.  It was driving me crazy, thinking about you and him together."</div> <div>      "You had time to think of me?  Between thinking about Angelique and Amanda?"</div> <div>      "I thought you said we weren't supposed to hurt each other," he said defensively, trying to avoid the subject.</div> <div>      Beth nodded grudgingly.  "All right, I'm sorry.  I didn't know what he would do if he thought I didn't believe in him anymore.  I didn't want him to hurt you--even though you broke my heart, I didn't want him to harm you."</div> <div>      That was the second barb that had gotten in and zinged him.  He didn't like it.  "How far did you carry your pretense that you believed him?"</div> <div>      "Quentin!"  Her eyes were beginning to flash a little again.  "Have I ever asked you about Angelique--then or now?  Or Amanda?  Did you sleep with them, Quentin, while you were supposed to be engaged to me?"</div> <div>      "You tell me first if you slept with Petofi, and then I'll tell you about them," Quentin countered.</div> <div>      "I already told you about Petofi," Beth answered sharply.</div> <div>      "So you never went to bed with him?  I can't believe he wouldn't have expected you to."</div> <div>      "You didn't ask me that.  You asked if I slept with him.  I didn't.  Did he expect me to?  I think he wanted me to."</div> <div>      "Did he kiss you?"</div> <div>      She hesitated, then smiled a little.  "Yes, that's one of the ways I knew for sure you were different."</div> <div>      "Oh, really?"  Quentin was outraged.  "If he kissed you, he didn't stop there. What else did he do?"</div> <div>      "He didn't get me into his bed, Quentin. And I wouldn't let him into mine.  Can't you be satisfied with that?  I'm not pressing you for details about your little trysts with your lady friends, am I?"</div> <div>      Quentin banged the glass down on the nightstand near his pillow.  "You didn't answer my question!"</div> <div>      Beth drew closer to him.  "I don't have to!  I didn't sleep with him--ever!"</div> <div>      "Wait a minute!  I know how 'persuasive' Petofi is.  You really expect me to believe you said, 'no, thank you' and he let it go at that?  What kind of fool do you think I am?"</div> <div>      "Not as big a fool as me, my love!"  Beth exclaimed bitterly.  Once again, he didn't see it coming. She slapped him.</div> <div>      Enraged, he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her down on the bed.  "I told you to stop hitting me, Ange--" he broke off, horrified.  Beth was furious and began struggling.  "Beth, I'm sorry!  I must be drunker than I thought..."</div> <div>      "A lot more than that to dare calling me by THAT name!" Beth snapped.  She managed to slap his face again.  Quentin grabbed both her wrists to restrain her.  Beth was crying now.  "Let me go!  I don't want you to touch me!  You've betrayed me over and over and over.  I never did that to you!  I told you--don't you remember?  I told you that you were my first and only lover.  You don't believe me because it's not true for you.  You couldn't be faithful--" she broke off, weeping.</div> <div>      "Jesus God," he breathed, realizing the truth.  He let her go and sat up, wanting to cry himself.  "Beth, I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking.  When she continued to cry, he moved to lie down beside her. "Listen to me--I didn't go to bed with Angelique. She made me sick--I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with her."          </div> <div>      "What about Amanda Harris?"</div> <div>      He reddened guiltily.  He wanted to lie to her, but the look on her face told him that she would get up and leave him if he did. He swallowed hard and answered, "I did--with Amanda.  Just once, before she left.  But I swear, Beth, I thought you wanted to be with Petofi. I didn't know--I'm telling you the truth."  </div> <div>      "You didn't ask me!"  Tears streamed from Beth's eyes.</div> <div>      Leaning over her, he kissed her, wiping tears away at the same time.  He was afraid she would push him away, but she didn't.      "I'm sorry.  I'm such a bastard," he admitted between kisses. "I don't know why you'd love a heel like me."</div> <div>      "I may be a fool, but I'll never stop loving you," she whispered, beginning to return his kisses. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.  </div> <div>      Her words both hurt and aroused him.  He grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled hard, ripping it.  He saw first surprise and then lust cross her features.  Her fingers dug into the back of his neck and then raked down his back, which further aroused him.  He pulled her bra up, covering her breast with his mouth and sucking hard. Then he moved to the other breast, kneading the first one roughly with his hand.  Beth moaned, twining her fingers into his hair and pulling.  He moved to kiss her on the mouth again.  She'd reached under him with her hands and was pulling his shirt open, clawing his chest with her nails. </div> <div>      Moving back a little, he began to strip her clothes away and she reached for him to do the same. They didn't speak such was the depth of their need.  There was an urgent quality to it; there didn't seem to be time to whisper lovingly to each other or to be gentle.  He pushed her legs apart and moved between them, mounting her without checking to see if she was ready for him.  It didn't matter, though--she was ready, more than ready to receive him.  As he thrust into her she pressed her hands on the back of his shoulders to pull him closer to her.  She got her teeth onto his shoulder bit him; it hurt and further excited him.  Her hands moved down, raking his back again, inflaming him, and he felt himself coming in a great burst.  He didn't know if he was taking her with him or not.  He thought he heard her cry out; he knew he had to suppress his own strangled cry so that he wouldn't disturb the children in the other rooms.</div> <div>      He'd heard that that when a man came, there was a term used that meant "little death."  He understood why someone would use such an expression to describe the experience.  He felt paralyzed and unable to move; collapsing onto Beth, breathing deeply into the pillow next to her face.  He felt her stroke his cheek gently.  "Are you still angry with me?"  He asked.</div> <div>      "Not right now," she answered in a soft, contented voice.  "Not when I have you inside me, and everything from inside you now in me."</div> <div>      "I don't want anyone else to have you," he said fiercely.</div> <div>      "No one else will.  And especially not that horrid monster.  Do you believe me, Quentin?  Do you?"</div> <div>      "Yes, and I'm sorry for all the nasty things I said to you."  He was now able to raise himself onto his elbows so he could look at her.  He shifted his weight so that he wasn't lying directly on top of her anymore.  He saw the same red blush he'd seen in Rockport; it was fading rapidly.  He lightly traced the outline of the rash on one breast.  "Ah," he said, feeling pleased.  "You liked it too, Beth?  I wasn't sure."</div> <div>      "Well, now you know."  Beth stretched a little.  Now she caressed his jaw.</div> <div>      "It doesn't happen like that all the time, though."</div> <div>      "No, then you'll just have to ask if you want to know.  You shouldn't have to, though. I want to love you--it always feels good to me."</div> <div>      "I don't know what gets into me," he said, feeling a little sorry for himself.  "I don't know why I said such awful things to you."</div> <div>      Beth didn't answer for a moment.  Then she said, "If you're looking for me to say, 'Oh, poor dear Quentin, don't feel so badly', I'm not going to do it.  You hurt me a lot."</div> <div>      "I'm sorry."</div> <div>      "You should be."</div> <div>      He was very surprised by the sternness in her voice.  In their other life, he'd treated her very badly sometimes and when he apologized and berated himself for it, she'd always soothed him, petted him, and told him it didn't matter.  That he did it only because of this or that reason--usually having to do with the curse.  "Well, I am," he insisted.</div> <div>      "Good," she answered.</div> <div>      He felt off balance now.  "You said some pretty mean things to me, too, Beth."</div> <div>      "Yes, I did," Beth agreed.  "The things I said were true, though, weren't they?"</div> <div>      He flushed with shame and irritation.  "Are you trying to start another fight?"</div> <div>      "No, darling, I'm not," Beth replied in a gentler tone of voice.</div> <div>      "Do you believe what I said about Angelique and Amanda?"</div> <div>      "I believe you," she said, caressing his cheek again.  "I'm sorry I said hurtful things to you. We hurt each other a lot today, didn't we?"  He nodded.  "Did I hurt you when I hit you?"</div> <div>      He was going to deny it, but changed his mind.  "You hit like a girl," he told her.  "But I bit the inside of my mouth.  That still hurts."</div> <div>      "Hit like a girl?  What do you expect?"</div> <div>      He laughed.  "A slap doesn't pack as much power as a punch, my dear.  But I'm not going to make the mistake of showing you how to do that."  </div> <div>      She laughed, too.  "But do you like that?"  she asked then, sounding serious.</div> <div>      "Like what?"</div> <div>      "Being slapped.  Do you like that?"</div> <div>      "Not especially," he answered, surprised.  </div> <div>      "Angelique hit you, didn't she?  Did you like that?"</div> <div>      "Oh."  Now he realized where she'd gotten the idea.  "No, I didn't like it all that much.  She said it was to keep herself from falling in love with me. She was always hurting me somehow, pinching, biting, or slapping me.  I really didn't like it very much."  He laughed.  "Not that I could convince a witch to stop abusing me." </div> <div>      "So she didn't want you to belong to her?"</div> <div>      He laughed.  "Not at all."  He became suddenly serious and rolled back onto her, pushing her arms down so that he could hold her wrists tightly.  "You're mine, Beth, no one else's," he stated very emphatically.</div> <div>      "Well, then, you belong to me too," she said, just as emphatically, looking into his eyes.  "Quentin, don't do to me what you did before."</div> <div>      "You don't have to threaten me.  I told you I wouldn't."</div> <div>      "I'm not threatening you.  I'm telling you.  You belong to me, too, and if you try to give yourself to anyone else, I'll make you pay."</div> <div>      He lifted one eyebrow.  He rather liked this new Beth.  "Take it out in trade now, my dear," he whispered to her. To his surprise, she pushed him, rolling him over onto his back.  </div> <div>      "All right," she said.  She turned his head to the side and began to nuzzle and nibble his neck.  He felt her bite him at the base of his neck, and he flinched as she sucked and pulled at his skin with her teeth.     It was somewhat arousing, but it hurt more than it inspired passion.  </div> <div>      He tried to stop her, but she grabbed his arms and pushed them down.  "What're you doing?" he finally managed to ask, when she released him. She'd moved on, gently kissing his shoulders and then running her tongue over the nipple of one breast before gently sucking on it.  </div> <div>      She stopped what she was doing and said, very seriously, "I've put my mark on you, Quentin."</div> <div>      His hand flew to his neck.  "Is that what the vampire kiss felt like?  From Barnabas?"</div> <div>      "The strange thing is, I don't remember. It's not what it looks like.  You'll see it.  You see, you are mine now, Quentin, and I won't let anyone else have you, either."</div> <div>      He moved so that they were facing each other.  He wasn't about to tell her that Angelique had done the very same thing and that more than likely the mark wouldn't last long.  He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.  Then he kissed her again.  "You lie still awhile," Beth whispered to him.  "I'll 'take it out in trade' as you put it.  Let me get you ready again."  He rolled onto his back and shivered with pleasurable anticipation.</div> <bR> <div>      They fell asleep in each other's arms.  Sometime in the night, Quentin felt another slap on his face, startling him into wakefulness.  He thought Beth had smacked him again and was about to protest the grievous injury when he realized that Beth was stirring and sitting up beside him.  The slap was on the other side of his face; it couldn't have been her.  In the darkness of the bedroom, he could see a tiny outline with a halo of what he knew to be golden curls.</div> <div>      "Katie?"  Beth was saying sleepily.  "What's wrong, darling?"</div> <div>      "I'm ascared," Katie said, crying softly and hiccuping.  "Daddy didn't waked up when I jiggled."</div> <div>      "I'm awake now," Quentin said ruefully.  Beth was sitting up and drawing a robe on to cover her nakedness.</div> <div>      "Daddy was in the dead box," Katie went on. "So I came in to see if he was or not. And he didn't move when I jiggled him."</div> <div>      "Well, you can see he's not in a 'dead box', sweetie; let's put you back to bed," Beth said, and Katie started to cry.</div> <div>      "Don't like it there!  It's a big room an a big bed and I'm all 'lone!"</div> <div>      Quentin felt sorry for her.  "Beth, why don't you let her stay awhile?"</div> <div>      "I don't think it's a good idea."</div> <div>      "But the poor kid is scared to death.  This is a strange house to her--all kind of strange things are happening, and she's just a baby.  We weren't doing anything but sleeping now anyway."</div> <div>      "But it might start a bad habit--"</div> <div>      "No it won't," he cajoled her.  "Come on.  Just this once."</div> <div>      "Well--" Beth gave in.  Happily, Katie climbed over Quentin and plopped herself down between him and her mother.  Beth raised her eyebrows a little.  "No, I don't think so, dear," she said, pulling Katie over to her side.  "Slide under the covers with me. You can stay until you fall asleep."</div> <div>      "'kay.  I love you mommy, I love you daddy," the child said with a contented sigh, snuggling up next to Beth under the covers.</div> <div>      Quentin could feel Beth looking at him.  "What?" he asked defensively.  "She's just a baby, Beth, come on."</div> <div>      "And she's got you wrapped around her little finger," Beth teased.</div> <div>      "You shouldn't be surprised.  She looks just like you, you know," Quentin answered.  He felt Beth's hand caress his face, outlining his mouth.  Then he felt her mouth on his, kissing him very gently.  He put her arms around her, kissing her back.</div> <div>      She stopped long enough to say, "What a sweet thing to say."</div> <div>      "And true, too," he said, proud of himself.  He kissed her again, mindful that they couldn't go too far with the baby in the bed.  He sat up, hearing the sound of a door closing and tiny feet padding down the hall.  "Now what?" </div> <div>      Another door opened.  "Hey, kid, whatcha doin up?"  Eddie's voice asked.</div> <div>      "I had a bad dream," Peter's tearful voice replied.  "I want my mommy."</div> <div>      "A big kid like you?  Scared?  Nah, that can't be.  Listen, you wanna see my mitt?"</div> <div>      "Now?"</div> <div>      "Yeah, why not?  Doncha want to?  You can try it on."</div> <div>      "Well--" Peter said hesitantly.</div> <div>      "I should go to him," Beth whispered.</div> <div>      "Wait," said Quentin.  "This is the first time that kid tried to be nice to any little kid that I've ever seen."  They heard Eddie flick on his light, obviously showing the mitt to Peter.  Peter decided he wanted to try the mitt on.  They could hear the boys talking softly, as if aware there were others sleeping in the house.  "He'll probably end up being a nice kid after all, too," Quentin speculated.  "Better than me."</div> <div>      Beth pushed him.  "Don't start that talk again."</div> <div>      "But it's true.  I was a lousy kid."</div> <div>      "Maybe you were.  It doesn't matter anymore, does it?  It was a long time ago.  You're a good man--most of the time, Quentin."</div> <div>      Quentin lay back, stretching, and putting his arm around Beth.  The tips of his fingers brushed against Katie's curls.  He sighed in contentment and shut his eyes.  There was a lot to do tomorrow. He wanted to call Walsh and Tom Haskell to warn them about strange gypsies showing up in Collinsport. Matthew was willing to take care of the house until a final decision was made about it.  Beth had spoken to Annie, and they'd see her brother and sister-in-law before they left. They'd get take Eddie to the Billings' house and then go to the hospital to get Nora discharged.  They'd just pack what they needed to go to Cuddeback; they could have anything left behind shipped to wherever they were going.  By the end of tomorrow evening, they'd be safely out of Chicago--beyond the reach of gangsters, gypsies, and hopefully, of Petofi.  </div> <div> It would be nice to believe that they were free of him forever-but were they, really?  Quentin closed his eyes, beginning to drift.  He put thoughts of Petofi and Chicago out of his mind, thinking of how peaceful it would be at Cuddeback.  They'd all be able to relax, to play, to get well…  Suddenly, he sat bolt upright in the bed, gasping.  His abrupt movement disturbed Beth and Katie, and they both roused immediately.</div> <div> "Daddy jumped," Katie said, a little sulkily.</div> <div> "What is it?"  Beth asked.</div> <div> "Nothing-I dreamed I was falling," Quentin lied.  "It's all right, lie back down.  I'm sorry."  As they all settled back down, he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.  He couldn't tell her-not now, anyway.  He couldn't tell her that he'd felt Petofi's hand on the back of his neck and heard his evil laughter ringing in his ears.</div> <div> Was it a dream?  Or was it all beginning again?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id82.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="24: Aftermath"><U>24:  Aftermath</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <div>      </div> <div>      </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>