LITMIR.BIZ

      Peggy wrestled with her conscience for the next couple of days, longing all the while for Beth’s company, yet conceding it would be best not to court temptation by returning to the nurse’s quarters. She wavered between periods of extreme moodiness during which she was ashamed of the commotion she had caused, and long hours of utter bliss because, in the end, Beth had said that she would always be there, that she was Peggy’s friend.

      Peggy spoke casually on occasion to both Mike and Lilian, but only in connection with their work. Even in the counselors’ lounge, Peggy indulged in only enough conversation to preserve the amenities.

      Then Kirby Davis telephoned.

      Peggy was sitting in the lounge after free swim. She went to the phone reluctantly, heard Kirby plead again for a date, and again refused him.

      “Don’t you think you’ll ever give in?” he asked.

      “Look, Kirby—”

      “You don’t have to hang up already, do you?”

      “No,” she said. “I’m not busy at the moment. I don’t have to hang up.”

      “Good. You know, what I’d like to do is take you for a nice long walk among the open fields.”

      “I get my share of walking. Hikes every week.”

      “But they’re not at all the same. To begin with, hikes are part of your job. In the second place, walking on dirt roads or through woods can’t compare with tramping over open fields and nice soft grass.”

      “And where would you find open fields to roam around in? Most of them are planted with corn, or have cows all over them.”

      “When you get curious enough, let me know.”

      “I’ll do that.”

      They talked a few minutes longer, Peggy keeping an eye on the clock.

      Finally, when she told him her time was up, Kirby said: “Maybe I shouldn’t mention it, but I made some progress—at least you talked to me a while.”

      Peggy could not help smiling.

      She thought about Kirby’s call again that evening after she had left the throng at the lodge. You couldn’t fault a guy for trying, she thought, as she strolled the camp grounds, savoring the quiet.

      At the bottom of the hill, Peggy turned, her eyes raised to the mammoth lodge, looming dark and somber except for the yellow light bursting through all the windows. Snatches of song and of laughter came rolling down the hillside. Peggy smiled inwardly, thinking of the youngsters in the big building, each one absorbed in the night’s activities, her little mind filled with nothing else.

      Suddenly a wave of loneliness surged through her poignantly. She turned toward the lake, a limitless pool of ink bathed in white moonlight.

      Walking along the lake fence, kicking at an occasional stone, Peggy thought again of Kirby, of their telephone conversation that day. She wondered why she would not date him. Was she so far gone that a man could not appeal to her at all? Were her feelings, all of them, wholly directed elsewhere? Raising her eyes from the ground, she saw her answer. Standing at the gate was a womanly figure in white.

      Peggy’s heart hammered.

      The nurse turned. “Hello, there,” she called, glimpsing Peggy but uncertain of her identity.

      Peggy moved closer, her loneliness replaced by wild excitement.

      “Peggy!” the nurse exclaimed, recognizing the girl. “How are you? Want to walk along the shore?” she asked, unlatching the gate.

      Peggy passed through, brushing against Beth’s arm. The touch sent an electric current charging through the girl. Beth seemed not to notice.

      “I’ve been expecting you at the Pillbox,” she said.

      Chills crawled up Peggy’s spine. But inside her, heat was gathering.

      They stood at the edge of the water, where wavelets washed upon the sand, darkening it, then rolling back again.

      “I’ve missed our talks,” Beth said, her eyes following the broad path of the moon upon the lake.

      Peggy kicked at a pebble. It rolled into the water noiselessly.

      The night air was warm and humid. There was no breeze. All was still save for the lapping of the water; leaves did not rustle, no laughter floated from the lodge anymore, even the crickets were not singing.

      Peggy fought down the turmoil in her mind. She did not think; she waited.

      Beth sauntered along the beach. She stopped when she reached the dock, turned, waited for Peggy.

      Peggy joined her. “Let’s talk, shall we?” Beth said, her voice cool in the hot night, cool as a breeze.

      Peggy nodded dumbly. They sat down on the foot of the dock, a girl and a woman silhouetted against the moon-glow.

      Peggy pulled off her shoes, dangled her feet in the wavelets.

      “I regret that I had to be so short with you the other night,” Beth said. “But the way you were carrying on was unbearable. It wasn’t like you at all.” Beth paused. “I realize,” she said, “that you’re under a tremendous strain, Peggy, and I know I’ve had a part in causing it.”

      Peggy dragged a toe through the water, concentrating on the ripples it left.

      “Do we have to discuss it, Beth?”

      “I think we should, don’t you?”

      Peggy shrugged.

      “Peggy, your age is a trying one for most girls. But you’ve been exposed to more than the run-of-the-mill problems. You’re riding the horns of a most serious dilemma.” As Beth spoke, the moon hid behind a cloud.

      In the thickened dark, Peggy began to swing her legs, feet splashing lightly.

      “I can sympathize with you probably better than anyone else you know,” Beth said sadly. “I want to help you, Peggy. I—”

      Peggy jumped erect on the dock. “I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t want your help—or your pity or anything else…” She grabbed her shoes. “Just leave me alone,” she sobbed hurrying away.

      “Peggy!”

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