But apparently he wasn’t going to let her get away with it that easily. He went with her, staying her hand as she started to unlock the door.
“Are you all right?” he asked tersely, forcing the words out.
“Yes.” She didn’t look up. Her soul was tarnished.
He took off his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair. “Allison,” he began hesitantly. “What I said back there...”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied numbly. “I have to go in now. I’m sorry about...about what happened. I’ve never had alcohol before.”
“And that was why?” he asked with a mocking laugh. “You were drunk?” Deny it, he was thinking. For God’s sake, tell me it was because you loved me!
But the silent plea passed into the night. She unlocked the door. “Goodbye, Gene,” she said gently, even now unable to blame him for something she’d encouraged to happen.
“Isn’t that a little premature?” he asked hesitantly.
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” she said without looking at him. “You won’t have to worry that I’ll...be like Dale and hound you...” Her voice broke and she got inside fast, closing and locking the door behind her.
Gene stood staring at the closed door for a long moment. He felt empty and alone and deeply ashamed. What had possessed him to attack her, as if the whole thing was her fault? She was a gentle woman, with a soft heart and a heavy conscience, and it bothered him that she’d looked so torn when he let her go. She talked about religion a lot and church, and he wondered if she believed sleeping around was a mortal sin. It amazed him that he hadn’t seen through the act, that he’d really believed she was experienced, when everything pointed the other way. If he’d kept his head, he’d have known in time that she was innocent, and he could have stopped. But he didn’t know, and he hadn’t been rational enough to control his raging desire. A desire that he still felt, to a frightening degree. Allison. He felt her loss to his very soul. In a few days she’d become an integral part of his life, his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he could go on living when she left Pryor. Could half a man live?
He turned and went back to the Jeep, cursing himself all the way. She’d leave and he’d never have the opportunity to apologize. Not that she was completely blameless, he told himself. It hadn’t been all his fault. But what had motivated her? Had it been desire? Loneliness? Curiosity? Or had there been some feeling in her for him? She was a virgin and she’d given herself. Would she really have done that, being the kind of person she was, unless she cared deeply? His heart leaped at the thought of Allison loving him.
Of course, she was twenty-five and modern, he reminded himself grimly. Maybe she was just tired of being a virgin. He didn’t like to consider that last possibility. And even if she had begun to care about him, she surely wouldn’t now. His cruelty would have shown her how fruitless that would be. He climbed into the Jeep, started the engine, threw the car in gear and pulled out of the yard. This time he stopped the car, and he looked back. It was the first time in his life that he ever had. But darkened windows were all that met his hungry gaze. After a moment, he pulled the Jeep back onto the road and drove home.
Inside the house, Allison had made it to her room without being seen by Winnie. She took a shower, with water as hot as she could stand it, to wash away the scent and feel of Gene Nelson. She washed her hair as well. Her body felt bruised and torn, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Winnie what had happened. She was going to have to invent an argument or something to explain her sudden departure. But whatever happened, she couldn’t stay here any longer. Even the horror of the past few weeks and the fear of being hounded by the media were preferable to ever having to see Gene again. He hated her. She’d made him hate her by lying to him. He must feel terrible now, too, knowing the truth about her. He’d said he didn’t play around with virgins, and she’d made a liar out of him.
She lay down, but she didn’t sleep. Her mind went over and over that painful episode in the line cabin until she was utterly sick. The worst of it was that Gene was right. It was her fault. She’d ignored Winnie’s warnings about Gene and the danger of physical attraction. Now she understood, too late, what it was all about. She’d never dreamed that she could be so hungry for a man that principles and morals could be totally forgotten. Now she knew. She wondered if she’d ever be able to forget what she’d done. Loving him didn’t seem to excuse her behavior, or justify her submission anymore.
She got up before daylight and packed. The phone rang long before she dressed and went downstairs, but apparently it wasn’t for her, because she wasn’t disturbed.
She put her hair up in a bun and dressed in her sedate gray dress with matching high heels for the trip to Arizona. With a glance at her too-pale face in the mirror, she went in to breakfast and pasted a smile on her lips.
But there was no one there. She searched the house and found a scribbled note from Winnie. “Gone to hospital,” she read. “Dwight hurt in wreck.”
She caught her breath. Poor Winnie! And poor Dwight! She picked up the phone and called the hospital immediately, having found the number in
