Penelope's Suitors

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Spring, 2006

Ted and Esther said goodbye in front the school, and then he got back into his car. It was time to visit Matthew. He flipped open his reporter's notebook and looked up the address, a house along Route 18, on the way to Fort Bramwell. He put the key in the ignition and sighed.

The office of Roebling & Associates, Financial Advisors, was located in a converted former restaurant sandwiched between two motels on the mountain side of the road. Ted parked in front, and walked into the reception area. It was bright and clean, with comfortable Windsor chairs and a coffee table with magazines neatly arranged. The sole occupant was a 50-something secretary, who was speaking in low tones to someone while tapping away on her computer.

"Mr. Roebling can meet with you Monday morning at 10:00. Please bring last year's tax records and your current insurance policy… yes…no…of course…"

A couple of simple landscapes decorated the walls, but mostly, there were pictures of Matthew—framed, with captions: Matthew and the school superintendent breaking ground for the new gym—Matthew was chair of the school building committee; State Senator Harrick posing with Matthew, his campaign fundraising chair. Matthew with Rotary Club officials at the playground they built. Matthew with the Little League team he coached. Matthew and the staff of Roebling & Assoc. serving meals at a homeless shelter in Mohawk Falls last Thanksgiving…

The receptionist hung up the phone.

"How can I help you?" she asked. She seemed bright and interested, and Ted had the feeling she wasn't just asking him; she was sizing him up.

"Your boss gets around," he said.

"He has many community interests," she said, primly, but with a hint of humor. "Do you have an appointment? Mr. Roebling is very busy today. He's on a conference call right now." Ted pulled a business card from his pocket, and a pen. He crossed out his job title, and wrote instead "Hall Boy."

"Could you just slip this to him?" The receptionist looked doubtfully at the card, then back at Ted, wondering if she was being made a fool of. But she had sized him up.

"One moment." She disappeared through a door near her desk. When she came back, she looked at Ted with grudging respect.

"Mr. Roebling said he would like to see you, and that he'll be done with his call in 10 minutes." Her phone rang again. Ted looked at more pictures, then sifted through the magazines on the coffee table. His magazine was there—the most recent issue. He was flattered that Matthew read his column.

In 10 minutes, Matthew stepped into the reception area. Ted looked up, and realized that of everyone he had seen so far, Matthew had changed less than anyone. At least physically. Even in a white button-down shirt and tie, it was clear he had kept his athletic physique. His hair was still short, and his face fair and unlined.

"Dammit Ted, it's good to see you." He extended his hand and gave a crushing shake. He put his arm around Ted and turned him toward the receptionist. "Alice, we have a celebrity here. Hang on a minute." He grabbed the magazine off the table, opened it to Ted's column, with his photo, and showed it to Alice. "Look at this. This guy and I worked together at the Tolford place years and years ago." Alice looked underwhelmed.

"That's very impressive," she said.

"You haven't changed a bit," said Ted.

"I should hope I have," said Matthew.

"I mean you look the same, but this—" Ted swept his hand around the reception area. "—it's a far cry from the Twelve Pines machine shop."

"It is. Come on back. Alice, what's my next appointment?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Stratton in half an hour."

"Buzz me when they're here." They walked through the door and down the hallway, past several employees working in cubes. Matthew's office was in a corner, the desk opposite three very comfortable chairs. His window took in a piece of the lake.

"Have a seat, Ted. Yeah, I see you looking for the lake. You can just see it this time of year. In the winter, you can see it a lot better. Do you want something—coffee, tea, soda, bottled water?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Matthew leaned back in his tall leather chair. Ted looked around the office—tasteful and prosperous without being ostentatious. Matthew had furnished his room with a dark wood desk, empty except for a phone and elegant pen and pencil set. Matching bookshelves were filled with business volumes. The office was designed to impress prospective clients without overwhelming them.

Only two items decorated the walls: Matthew's Certified Financial Planner certificate, and an oil painting. It took Ted a few moments to place the scene—Sally's Point, near the south end of the lake, at early evening. The green of the trees caught the lights from Fort Bramwell, which looked almost magical in the distance.

"You have an Ariadne Tolford," said Ted.

"You recognize her work?" said Matthew with surprise. "Who'd have thought, Penelope's kid sister becoming an artist."

"I thought the same. I saw her show in Fort Bramwell. I bought one myself, in fact."

"She does wonderful things with the lake," said Matthew. "I bought that one just over a year ago. I saw her show myself, and I may buy another one or two."

"An investment?" asked Ted. But Matthew shook his head.

"As a reminder. It helps me think of the lake when I'm in the office."

"Exactly why I bought mine. Something to reflect on in the middle of Manhattan." They focused on the painting, then Matthew turned back to Ted.

"I wasn't kidding out there," said Matthew. "I really do read your column. I like your insights. But you were always smart." It wasn't said with envy, just with the same tone Ted might have used to say Matthew was broad-shouldered.

"I don't know," said Ted. "You seem to have done OK for yourself. But frankly, I thought I'd find you up to your elbows in machine oil at your own marina."

"So did I. I enrolled in an engineering program in college. My roommate was in a BBA program and he told me I should take some business classes if I was going to run my own place. I took his advice, and I liked the first course I took a lot. So much that I dropped engineering and switched to the B-school. Got into finance, and then opened up my own place."

"What do you do here mostly? I noted you cover everything from insurance to funds to 529 plans."

"I do lot of insurance, but also funds for individual investors, estate planning for local business owners. The trick is not to depend too much on any one area."

"And of course, the 403(b) for the school district."

Matthew looked surprised again. Then smiled. "Let me guess. You looked up Mary-Lou, and her husband is an assistant principal at the school, so of course he knows me."

"Very good."

Matthew folded his hands behind his head. "It's fun to look up an old girlfriend, isn't it?"

"Bittersweet."

"You always had the right word. I always admired you for that. And that reminds me." Next to his desk was a bookshelf filled with business books. He scanned it for a moment, then pulled Ted's book from the shelf. He handed it to Ted, with a pen.

"It's a great book. Can you inscribe it?"

He thought for a moment, then wrote, "To Matthew, in fond memory of our youthful friendship at Twelve Pines." He handed back the book, and Matthew read the inscription.

"Now that is very nice. And that's what I meant, you have a way with words. I guess that's why you're a writer. Anyway, what brings you up here from New York? Just passing through?"

"Actually, speaking of the Tolford sisters, that's why I'm here. Penelope asked me to write a biography of her father, and I said I'd do it as a favor. I'm researching this end of the story."

He watched Matthew, who smiled broadly and closed his eyes for a moment. "Penelope. You know, I don't think I've seen her since that summer. I see Ariadne around town, but not Penelope, although I've heard she's visited. I sent her a note when Maxwell died—you know, he got me a great job at a big marina the following summer. It was really nice of him. So I wrote a note to Penelope, and she sent me a note back. Do you see her occasionally, in the city?" He asked with a forced casualness that reminded Ted of the Matthew he knew 20 years ago.

"From time to time," he said. "I went to Maxwell's funeral in the city. Penelope and I got to talking, and as you might expect, we started to talk about William." Ted watched him closely, but Matthew gave away nothing. "We've often wondered about what happened that night. What was William doing there, at the edge of the cliff, in the rain."

"Beats the heck out of me," said Matthew.

"You found him, didn't you?"

"Yes." He didn't elaborate.

"What made you go looking for him?" Now he shrugged.

"It seemed odd for him to disappear. We were all having a good time. It was the last big evening of the summer. I mean, I know he wandered off a lot, but that night, there was no place he could hide outside. And I thought about him slipping and falling on the wet ground."

"A sixth sense about this?"

"Could be. I used to go camping and hunting in the mountains with my father and uncles. You'd look out for each other, especially in the bad weather. That's probably what was going through my mind when he didn't show up back in the Hall. I saw his body there and ran back to the Hall, and then to tell Penelope up at the Stone House. But you probably knew that already." Exactly what he told the investigators 20 years ago. Exactly.

"You were in the Hall that evening. Who was there, before you left?"

"Oh boy, can I remember? Well, you weren't, for one. You and Mary-Lou disappeared pretty early," he said with a knowing look. Ted waved it away.

"A romantic interlude. But who stayed?"

"Well, Vic and Laurie. They were sort of running things. Pretty much every kid in the place, I guess. Anyone in particular?"

"Ariadne?"

"Of course. She was always hanging around."

"Hoping to see William, no doubt?" asked Ted. Matthew shrugged.

"Maybe. And that reminds me—Denise was there. That weird little girl in black. Sulking. Anyone else? I just don't remember. I'm sorry I don't know any more. Have you spoken to any of the others? Were they more helpful?"

"Actually, I did speak to others. Mary-Lou. Ariadne. Laurie—"

"I see everyone around, or my wife does. It's a small town. Ariadne told me Penelope was doing well, a lawyer in Manhattan. I assume you also talked to her as well about that night, since she's essentially employing you?" He really looked curious, but was trying to hide it.

"She couldn't add much more than you told me." Was his imagination running away from him, or did Matthew show a slight sense of relief? "Of course, in the city, I spoke with Vic Kaplan."

"I haven't spoken to him in 20 years either. But I'm aware of his funds. He's a big shot now."

"Do you use his funds?"

"Sometimes. Low expense ratios, and that carries a lot of weight around here. People want to believe they're getting good value."

"It's funny," said Ted. "Vic runs mutual funds. I write about mutual funds. You sell mutual funds."

"It beats hot dogs," Matthew said. "Remember our one-night-only hot dog event?"

"To this day, the most profitable business venture I ever invested in." They sat lost in memories for a few moments, then Ted said, "She looks great."

"Hmm?"

"Penelope. She looks terrific. Not much different, in fact."

"Really?" said Matthew. He looked sidelong at Ted. "Did she ever cut her hair?"

"No. Still wears it as a single braid."

Matthew's face relaxed and he flashed Ted a conspiratorial smile. "I wouldn't mind seeing her again."

"We never forget our first loves," said Ted.

"No we don't."

"Matthew, what happened that night?"

Matthew came back from his reverie. "What happened? I really don't know. Like I said, I went looking for him. Worried about that cliff in the rain. I found him, then ran to the Hall, then up to the Stone House." Ted leaned forward, across Matthew's desk.

"No. I mean, what was William doing at the edge of that cliff. In that lonely place in the rain. And why did you find him there? I mean, of all the acreage of Twelve Pines, why was he there? Or more to the point, why did you think you'd find him there?"

Matthew leaned back, with his hands behind him. "Christ, Ted. I was so jealous of you. You were smarter than I was. You were a New Yorker, went to a fancy prep school. I couldn't begin to talk with Penelope the way you could."

"And I envied you, being with her all year. All I had was the summer. Not that anything did either of us any good." He fixed Matthew with a look. "So why were you there? Were you going to one of the North cabins? Were you taking a girl there?" Matthew shook his head.

"You were smart then, and you've only gotten smarter. I bet you'll figure this out. You probably already have." He shook his head. "But I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?" asked Ted, looking him in the eye.

Matthew wagged a finger at him. "There you go again, being clever. A neat difference. But I'll say can't."

They looked at each other for a few moments, and Ted realized nothing more was going to happen. He threw up his hands in surrender.

"Fair enough. What's the phrase—we were fools for love. But you've moved on. I hear you have a family."

Matthew relaxed, and turned around a picture on his desk—a pretty wife with fluffy blond curls and two handsome boys with their father's face and their mother's build.

"You must be very proud of them," said Ted.

"I've been blessed," said Matthew. "That's Chrissy. And this is Matthew Jr., and Gary."

"Are you going to get them into football when they get older?"

"I don't know if they'll be big enough. Anyway, soccer is the hot sport now at the high school. How about you? Do you have kids?" Ted shook his head.

"Still haven't married."

"I recommend it. It's nice to have a family. But I see what you meant now by moving on. You're not still chasing her, are you?" Ted thought of how best to answer, but Matthew continued: "Yes, you still love her. I can see that. So do I—don't tell Chrissy." He gave a hearty laugh, to show it was a joke, at least in part. "I would've done anything for Penelope."

"I would've too," said Ted softly.

"Really," said Matthew. And Ted wondered if it was a question or a comment. He stood up.

"Thanks for taking time to see me," he said. "I appreciate it—and I know Penelope will too. And it was good seeing you."

"Good seeing you too, and I'm glad for any help I could give. Here, I'll see you out," said Matthew. They walked along the hallway.

"The painting I bought—it was the view of Longwood from the Hall," said Ted.

"I know the one." They walked into the reception area.

"But you know which one I probably really wanted. Or which pair," said Ted. "I bet you asked about them too."

"The Penelope paintings. Tell me, which one in particular did you like best?"

"'By Sunset.'"

"That's interesting. I wanted 'By Dawn.' Does that mean anything?"

Ted shrugged. "You're asking a writer. Maybe we should ask a psychologist." The front door opened and a couple, presumably Matthew's next appointment, walked in. They looked in their sixties. He wore a blue windbreaker over a plain shirt and khakis, and she wore a hand-knit cardigan over a solid blue dress.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stratton. Do come in. I'll be right with you." He turned back to Ted, and grabbed Ted's right hand in both of his. "It really was good seeing you. I hope…I hope… Well, I hope it ends well." A moment later he was leading the Strattons down the hall.

"How are you doing? Can I get you coffee? Soda? Bottled water…"

Ted stepped into the afternoon light. A few cars drove along Rte. 18, and he could see the lake beyond the road. The lake, shimmering and unchanging, looking like it was when Penelope used to knife through it.

There was one more witness—if he could persuade her. Would she be in this evening? The conversation came back to him: Ariadne explaining to Karen that she'd be stuck with a baby sitter on Wednesday. It would be the confirmation he really wanted. Yes, he could have another excellent dinner in the hotel dining room, turn in early, and leave first thing in the morning.

But he wasn't going to.



Summer, 1986

"Sorry to interrupt," Penelope said quietly, and then knelt by their chair. "But I have a little problem. I was hoping you could help. I got a call from the village police, passed on from Mohawk Falls. A couple of guests are stranded, broken-down car, in Mohawk Falls. They asked if we could get them. I'd normally get Stanislaus, but it's late and I don't want to bother him. I'd go myself, but Dad's on the road, Mrs. Bretton is in bed already, and Ariadne is down here…" she let her voice trail off. She craned her neck, to find her sister on the rock at the edge of the firelight. "Anyway, Ted, would you go? It would be a great favor." She looked at him pleadingly, then produced car keys from her pocket. "And I know you've been dying to get behind the wheel of the new Land Rover."

Ted looked at Mary-Lou. "How can we say no," she said.

Penelope's face relaxed, and Ted looked back and forth between the two women. "I don't suppose it will be a problem if we took the car for a spin after bringing the guests back."

Penelope stood up. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know. But thank you. It's just that with Ariadne, alone…" and her voice trailed off again. That vagueness was unlike her, thought Ted, but no matter. His head was already spinning with an idea.

Mary-Lou unfolded herself and the three slipped away onto the dark of the beach. Penelope looked around again.

"Isn't William playing again tonight?" she asked.

"When he plays he gets thirsty. When he gets thirsty he drinks beer. When he drinks beer he has to make frequent bathroom breaks," said Ted.

"As long as he doesn't upset the guests. Anyway, I have the Land Rover down here in the lower lot. Drive me back to the house and I'll give you the details on the way up. I'd go myself, like I said, but Ariadne…"

"I really don't mind," said Ted, "but what are you worried about? What could Ariadne get up to?"

"I don't know," she said. "She's 15."

"Why don't you just stay down here then," he suggested.

"Well, I don't want to watch her. I just don't want to be too far." She picked up her pace to move ahead of Ted and Mary-Lou on the path. Behind her, they held hands. Ted looked at Mary-Lou and she just shrugged.

The Land Rover dominated the lower lot, longer, taller and blacker than any of the other cars. Penelope handed over the keys with mock ceremony, and he eagerly hopped into the driver's seat. Mary-Lou got into the passenger side and Penelope slipped into the backseat.

"It's heavy and powerful," said Penelope. "Drive it carefully." Ted turned it around, and grinned as he pushed down on the gas pedal and the car roared up the hill. He braked by the path that led to the staff cabin.

"I have to get my wallet," he said, and Penelope said she'd give the details to Mary-Lou meanwhile. Ted ran down the path to the cabin, and came out a few minutes later with a large bundle under his arm. He opened up the back door and threw it in, then got back into the driver's seat.

"What was that?" asked Mary-Lou.

"Oh that. Just provisions."

"OK," she said.

"What kind of provisions do you need for a trip to Mohawk Falls?" asked Penelope.

"Fig Newtons," said Ted.

"You're so strange," said Mary-Lou. Ted winked at her, then glanced at the rearview mirror to see what Penelope was thinking, but her face gave away nothing, her dark eyes unfathomable.

They dropped her off by the Stone House.

"Thanks again, I appreciate it." Ted waved, then pulled out onto Route 18.

"This is a terrific machine," he said.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, and leaned against him. "Take the right by the Methodist church, onto Harald Lane. It's a shortcut to Route 4." Route 18 had the motel signs, but Harald Lane was completely black. Ted switched on the brights, but even they did little against the Adirondack night. He stole a glance at Mary-Lou, her face lit by the dim lights of the dashboard.

"New car, dark night—eyes on the road," she warned, but snuggled up closer.

Route 4 took them into Mohawk Falls, with its low Victorian buildings and old-fashioned street lights.

"I know this address," said Mary-Lou, looking at the piece of paper Penelope had given her. "It's in the business district. Turn left here." They drove down Main Street, with its 6-story office buildings and restaurants. "Here it is—the Blue Star Diner. Penelope said they limped into a space here, and a tow truck would come. Pull in by the hydrant. I'll wait and you can go in."

"Sounds good." He parked and walked into the Blue Star. It was a real diner, with a long counter and booths upholstered in blue. It was late, and only one booth was occupied, by two young couples drinking coffee over the remnants of hamburgers. Several men sat the counter, one of them talking to the short order cook.

"Sit anywhere," said the cook.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone. An older couple. They called here about an hour ago—their car broke down." But the cook shook his head.

"No one like that here."

Ted looked around. "Are you sure?"

"I know everyone here, sonny. We don't get many people for dinner. Mostly off-duty officers from police headquarters up the block. Meet Sergeant Davies," he said, introducing the man he was talking to. Sergeant Davies turned and gave Ted a quick salute. "No old couple tonight."

Ted looked around again in frustration. He had planned to grab the Prestons, drive back, and have plenty of time with Mary-Lou.

To hell with it.

At the end of the counter stood a dessert display case: seven-layer yellow cake with chocolate icing; cheesecake; peach, blueberry, and apple pies; individual Linzer tortes.

"You know," said Ted. "I'll take two of these Linzer tortes to go."

"Sure thing." The cook removed two, wrapped them in wax paper, and put them in a bag. Ted paid and left.

"What about the Prestons?" asked Mary-Lou.

"They're not here. They were never here."

She wrinkled her nose. "How could that be? I have the diner name and address right here, in Penelope's hand."

"Maybe she got it wrong," said Ted.

"But the diner name and the address are correct. You can't be that wrong. And Penelope wouldn't get something like that wrong."

"Well, they're not here," said Ted.

"What do we do now? Find a phone and call Penelope?"

"So she can call back the police and see where the directions got screwed up? I don't think so. Last evening with my girlfriend and I'm not spending it hanging around Mohawk Falls." Ted looked at Mary-Lou's tanned face with the dusting of freckles, and he kissed her, hard.

"Let’s get out of here," she said, after they stopped kissing.

He dropped the bag in her lap. "Linzer tortes, for dessert."

"I thought you had Fig Newtons?"

"Yeah, but they're getting stale. Now which way back to Route 4?"

As they bounced along back to the lake. It began to drizzle, and Ted switched on the wipers. Mary-Lou looked up at him and asked, "Where are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were desperate for this car, so you want to go somewhere. Where?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Mount Drear. You said it was magnificent up there. I want to see it."

"You want to drive at night, in the rain?"

"Yup. Now show me the way."

"You're nuts. But okay. Because you bought me Linzer tortes. Whatever they are."

"You'll love them."

The entrance to Mount Drear existed on no tourist map, and no quaint sign marked it. Mary-Lou guided them back to Route 18, and then said, "Drive slowly. You're going to take a left onto an unmarked road right after the Iroquois Inn."

"What do you locals call the unmarked road?"

"We call it the unmarked road right after the Iroquois Inn."

"Ahh."

"Here you go—right here." Ted turned onto a virtually invisible dirt road. "Now, very slowly. The third driveway on your right, pull in—yes, right here." It was clearly a private driveway, with the name "Carroll" on the fence.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. This is the strange part. The entrance to Mount Drear is actually through the Carroll's driveway." Ted turned in, and about 20 feet along Mary-Lou had him stop by a gate across a road that led at right angles from the Carroll's driveway. By the car's lights Ted saw a sign on the gate: "Property of State Park Commission. No Public Access."

"There's a fire tower at the top, but they don't use it anymore. You're not supposed to go up unless you're a park ranger. In fact, the gate used to be locked until a couple of smartass teenagers borrowed their father's bolt cutter and clipped it off."

"How do you know…oh. Your brothers."

"You can see why Dad threw them into the Marines. But it's still latched and you have to close it behind you in case the neighbors see it open and start wondering. You open it, I'll drive it through, and you close it behind."

Ted hopped out, and put up his sweatshirt hood against the light rain. After Mary-Lou drove through, he closed the gate and went back to the driver's side.

"Wrong side," she said. "This is crazy enough. You don't know this road and probably haven't driven along anything rougher than Park Avenue. We're going only if I'm driving."

"Oh, all right," he grumbled. He walked around and got into the passenger side, and Mary-Lou took off along the road. It went up very steeply and twisted suddenly again and again. Ted had never seen anything so dark in his life. He imagined Mary-Lou drove more by feeling than sight. She downshifted as the road got steeper still. Suddenly, it leveled off, and Ted realized they were at the top of the mountain.

Long ago rangers or perhaps early loggers had made a clearing. A wooden fire tower rose above the trees, and there was space for two or three cars. Mary-Lou drove up to the base of the tower and turned off the car.

"The tower is locked, really locked, even beyond amateurs with bolt cutters," she said. "But the view should be great, even in this weather. See if there's a flashlight in the glove compartment." There was—no doubt Stanislaus's doing. Ted turned it on.

"We’re going to have to be careful. In the dark, you can easily walk right off the mountain. It's straight down until you hit Route 18."

They got out and walked into the dark. The rain was little more than a fine mist now. They put up their hoods, and Mary-Lou slipped her hand into his. Walking slowly, they shined the flashlight on the ground, and when they got to the edge, Mary-Lou said, "Look up."

The lake was laid out beneath them, and rather than obscuring the view, the rain softened the lights: The green and white buoys blinked, and the moving lights of the boats flowed slowly, red green and white. They could see all the way down to the misty glow of Fort Bramwell. The lake itself was a dark pool, strangely small under the black shapes of the mountains.

The effect was looking at a giant physical map. It was dizzying, and they didn't speak for a while.

"You see why we liked to come up here," said Mary-Lou, softly. They lost track of time; Ted couldn’t tell if they were watching for five minutes or an hour. When she looked up at him, he kissed her, this time softly, and led her out of the rain back into the car.

The seat folded down. Ted reached into the back and grabbed the sleeping bag he had picked up from his cabin earlier. He unfolded it, unzipped it, and spread it out. He had to do it all by feel because he was blind, had never experienced such total darkness. Even in the North cabins there was some background light, from the guest cabins, or the moon through the window, or perhaps a romantic kerosene lantern on the nightstand.

He couldn't see her, but other senses became stronger to compensate. He felt her smooth skin and delighted in the smell of the lake in her hair.

They lay together afterward in the dark and silence, and Ted fed her pieces of Linzer torte, as he had pieces of fruit at the beginning of the summer.

"This is delicious," she said. "I've never tasted anything like it."

"It's unusual. I want you to think of me whenever you have this again."

"Do you love me?" she asked, and her voice cracked a little.

"Yes, I do," he replied, wishing her could see her face.

"Do you love me desperately? she asked.

"What does that mean?" asked Ted. "To love someone desperately."

"When Penelope and I were waiting for you to come out of your cabin, she leaned over and said, 'You love him desperately, don't you?'"

Ted thought about that. "What did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. I stumbled for an answer, and she said, 'It's so hard to love someone desperately.' And then you came out of the cabin. She leaned back, and it was like it never happened."

How about that, thought Ted.

Mary-Lou broke off a piece of Linzer torte and fed it to him. He ate it absently from her fingers.

"So, do you love me desperately?" she asked.

"Yes, I love you desperately," he said. He could hear her breathing. "You haven't said if you love me," he asked. But Mary-Lou said nothing. He felt her shift, and then she was over him, kissing him, and she was crying. So she loved him desperately, and it was frightening.