And sometimes, like tonight, he was forceful, almost brutish. But always he seemed to know exactly how to go about fulfilling his own needs while still being sensitive to hers. He touched her in just the right places. He intuited when and where he needed to be gentle, and when he could be rough.
She looked at him in the moonlight. She loved him so much she almost ached. This pleased her, but it also frightened her. Every time their lovemaking reached some new height, she realized anew how much power he had over her, and sometimes she even found herself wondering how he had learned to be such a consummate lover. How many women had he known before her? She had never asked, but she knew there had to have been many. His prowess as a ladies’ man was well known, and she had seen the legions of groupies that waited for him whenever he performed. For a few seconds this thought troubled her, and she snuggled up closer to him. But she was able to reflect on it only a moment longer before she too drifted off to sleep, lulled by the plaintive and distant cries of a whippoorwill.
For Garrett, falling asleep was difficult. For several minutes after his mother tucked him in he brooded about how badly he had botched his attempt to get Stephen to reveal himself. But then slowly, as his attention shifted to the fact that he was all alone in the darkness of the room, he began to get scared. At first he tried to ignore his growing unrest. He assured himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. But as the chatter of his own thoughts quieted, he became increasingly aware of the sounds of the night, the scratch-ings of the pine needles against the sides of the house, and the chree chree of the katydids and other insects.
He considered sleeping with the flashlight on, but it occurred to him that if the batteries ran down before morning he might wake in the middle of the night with no light at all—a possibility too horrible even to contemplate. Next he considered calling out to his mother, but this seemed to offer only a temporary reprieve at best, and it also meant revealing his fear of the darkness to Stephen, which was simply out of the question. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he pulled the sheet, blanket, and bedspread up over his face and fashioned them into a sort of mask, leaving only an open space around his nose so that he could breathe.
Enclosed in his cocoon he resolved to make an earnest effort to fall asleep and for a few moments felt secure. But then the sounds of the night closed in on him once again. Outside he heard something splash in the lake, and the wind rustled mournfully through the pines. The house itself seemed to take on new and eerie life. Here and there it creaked and popped as if it had only been slumbering— the darkness had awakened it and urged it now to flex its sinews and its joints. Somewhere in the distance something snapped. A minute later and farther away a window rattled. And farther still, deep within the very bowels of the house, timbers creaked and moaned as if stressed by forces they were only barely able to contain.
With each new sound his fear increased until he was gripped by such panic that he thought he would have to scream. He was also starting to become unbearably hot under the weight of so many covers and wanted more than anything to kick them off. But he was too frightened to move. It seemed like an eternity before he finally drifted into the comforting oblivion of his own unconsciousness.
He did not know how long he had been asleep when something woke him.
For a moment he was disoriented and stared confusedly around the room, wondering why everything seemed so unfamiliar. But when he finally pieced together where he was, a dark tide of terror swept over him once again.
Had he heard a sound?
He listened and heard nothing save for the whispering of the pines outside.
But then, as he lay awake in bed, his hands sweating and his heart pounding, he became aware of a movement.
It
She looked at him in the moonlight. She loved him so much she almost ached. This pleased her, but it also frightened her. Every time their lovemaking reached some new height, she realized anew how much power he had over her, and sometimes she even found herself wondering how he had learned to be such a consummate lover. How many women had he known before her? She had never asked, but she knew there had to have been many. His prowess as a ladies’ man was well known, and she had seen the legions of groupies that waited for him whenever he performed. For a few seconds this thought troubled her, and she snuggled up closer to him. But she was able to reflect on it only a moment longer before she too drifted off to sleep, lulled by the plaintive and distant cries of a whippoorwill.
For Garrett, falling asleep was difficult. For several minutes after his mother tucked him in he brooded about how badly he had botched his attempt to get Stephen to reveal himself. But then slowly, as his attention shifted to the fact that he was all alone in the darkness of the room, he began to get scared. At first he tried to ignore his growing unrest. He assured himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. But as the chatter of his own thoughts quieted, he became increasingly aware of the sounds of the night, the scratch-ings of the pine needles against the sides of the house, and the chree chree of the katydids and other insects.
He considered sleeping with the flashlight on, but it occurred to him that if the batteries ran down before morning he might wake in the middle of the night with no light at all—a possibility too horrible even to contemplate. Next he considered calling out to his mother, but this seemed to offer only a temporary reprieve at best, and it also meant revealing his fear of the darkness to Stephen, which was simply out of the question. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he pulled the sheet, blanket, and bedspread up over his face and fashioned them into a sort of mask, leaving only an open space around his nose so that he could breathe.
Enclosed in his cocoon he resolved to make an earnest effort to fall asleep and for a few moments felt secure. But then the sounds of the night closed in on him once again. Outside he heard something splash in the lake, and the wind rustled mournfully through the pines. The house itself seemed to take on new and eerie life. Here and there it creaked and popped as if it had only been slumbering— the darkness had awakened it and urged it now to flex its sinews and its joints. Somewhere in the distance something snapped. A minute later and farther away a window rattled. And farther still, deep within the very bowels of the house, timbers creaked and moaned as if stressed by forces they were only barely able to contain.
With each new sound his fear increased until he was gripped by such panic that he thought he would have to scream. He was also starting to become unbearably hot under the weight of so many covers and wanted more than anything to kick them off. But he was too frightened to move. It seemed like an eternity before he finally drifted into the comforting oblivion of his own unconsciousness.
He did not know how long he had been asleep when something woke him.
For a moment he was disoriented and stared confusedly around the room, wondering why everything seemed so unfamiliar. But when he finally pieced together where he was, a dark tide of terror swept over him once again.
Had he heard a sound?
He listened and heard nothing save for the whispering of the pines outside.
But then, as he lay awake in bed, his hands sweating and his heart pounding, he became aware of a movement.
It
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