Darkwater by V. J. Banis Page B

life—and at Jennifer, so unbelievably lovely, so soft and gentle.
    He knew then what had been eating at him these last few days. He had felt distracted, unable to eat right or sleep right, and forgetting things. At the same time, though, he had felt all charged up, recklessly alive. He had caught himself laughing. Caught himself, because it was something he did so rarely anymore, and he had more energy and strength than a child.
    Always, something seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, hanging around the corners of his mind. He would be reading and he would think of her, and he would come to the doorway to look at her, not really thinking anything, not consciously, only looking as if at some marvel, as if at a miracle. Each time she had seemed new and wonderful and mysterious to him, and something within him had quickened and stirred, and he had come away more puzzled than before, and more alive too.
    Now he knew. He was in love.
    From the first she had frightened him, with those wide, vulnerable eyes of hers and that tremulous smile that tried so hard to be brave. That first day, he had looked at her standing in the door of the station, and he had known that she dared not come to Darkwater, not only because of what Alicia would say.
    He knew his wife would be furious, but instinct had warned him of some greater threat and he had not been wise enough to understand the warning. Now it was too late. He was like a man who, so long as no food was put before him, was not hungry, but now there was a banquet set within his sight and hunger gnawed at his innards.
    He went out of the bedroom, angry with himself to discover that his hand was shaking as he pulled the door closed. His mother was in the hall. Alicia’s screaming had been audible all over the house.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said. “Miss Hale is with her and she seems to be quieting down.”
    His mother’s eyes searched his face and she had a look of alarm in her eyes that was not entirely for Alicia’s outburst. They knew each other well, mother and son, and just as she had glanced at his face and divined his inner turmoil, so now he understood at once the reason for the concern he saw on her face.
    â€œIs it so obvious, then?” he asked.
    She did not answer him, but studied his face for a moment. When finally she did speak, it had nothing to do with that.
    â€œI’ll see if Miss Hale needs help,” she said.
    â€œYes, please do that.”
    He went to the library and closed the door and sank into one of the big chairs there as if in a fit of exhaustion. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, and rubbed his eyes but however he rubbed, he still saw her.
    How had he come to this? He was not a philanderer by nature. He did not love his wife. He was honest enough with himself to admit that, but he had always been as good a husband as he knew how to be. Despite all of her jealous ravings, he had never given her any reason to distrust him. Always he had honored the marriage vows, to the best of his abilities, even when she had not. Had she not promised to love? And to honor?
    It had been intended once that Walter would become a Baptist preacher like his father. That had been his father’s fervent wish and if his mother did not share the fervor, she happily acquiesced in the plans.
    Walter, too, seemed to agree, and he even began study for the ministry. Everyone “knew” that Walter would be the finest preacher in the South. It did not matter that it was not so lucrative a calling. Melvin Dere, Walter’s father, had married Helen Oglethorpe, and she had come to him a woman of considerable wealth. Melvin’s zeal for his calling had not prevented his wise husbandry of her wealth. Walter would never need to worry about making a decent living.
    It was not that which worried Walter. What bothered him was something else, something far more fundamental. It was the quickening of his spirits when he heard a