The Hired Girl(94)

I forgot I was a young lady going to Mass. I went after him. I jumped for the book, and at that moment we were quite close, and I saw his hand, silhouetted against the morning sky, and his face — David, with his untidy curls and masculine throat — how different men’s throats are from ladies’! — and his whole frame charged with vitality and something else. . . . I don’t know what to call it, but I know that I’m drawn to it. I wonder if that’s what it’s like to be in love, to be drawn like iron to a magnet, without thinking, almost without consent — oh, I won’t be in love with David Rosenbach, I won’t! He’s a flirt, and he’s a Jew, and I won’t be like that silly fool Isabelle Gratz!

Here’s the queer thing: that moment — tussling with David over my prayer book — is lodged in my mind like a framed snapshot. I don’t know why. Once when I was a little thing, I watched the sun rise on Easter morning. I had it in my head that it would be holy to watch the sunrise. But I watched too closely, because the image of that tiny orange sun got burned into my eye. I saw it for an hour afterward. I was afraid I’d go blind, but I was too scared to tell Ma. I ought to have known better than to stare at the sun.

Anyway, for some reason, the moment with David was like that. Not that time stood still, or anything, because it didn’t, and neither did we. He frisked in a circle and I revolved around him, leaping and grabbing. “Give me back my missal!”

“Promise me you’ll come,” teased David.

Then a gentleman and a lady passed by, ever so beautifully dressed. I recognized their faces from Corpus Christi. I realized that I wasn’t acting like a lady or a good Catholic, and that people could see. I remembered the passage in Jane Eyre where the moon says, “My daughter, flee temptation!” and Jane says, “I will.” It seemed to me that this was a temptation, if there ever was one.

I planted my feet and repeated, “I have to go to Mass.”

“You can’t,” said David, grinning. “I’ve got your prayer book.”

I wasn’t going to knuckle under to that. “I don’t need my prayer book.” And I turned on my heel and walked away.

I thought he would follow me, but he didn’t. I went on walking. He didn’t follow. At last I turned back. “You could draw me tonight, in the library. I’m always there. I mean, most nights I’m there, between ten and midnight.”

He gazed at me despairingly. He stood with one hand entwined in his curls, as if he was about to tear his hair out. It was kind of theatrical. “I can’t draw you in the library. I need the sunlight. Besides, there’s a dance at the Phoenix Club tonight, and I promised to go. What about Tuesday? That’s your afternoon off, isn’t it?”

He found out my day off. “Yes, but —” I thought of my Tuesday instruction. I’d told Father Horst that I might not always be able to meet him, because of Mrs. Rosenbach’s bridge ladies. If I saw him after Mass, I could tell him that the Rosenbachs need me to work this Tuesday. (As a matter of fact, that’s what I did tell him. It wasn’t a complete lie, because David’s a Rosenbach, and sitting for a portrait is a kind of work, but it’s more lie than truth. I’d say it’s about ninety-five percent lie. Sweet Mother of God, I’ve lied to a priest!)

I wavered. “I guess I could see you Tuesday.”

“You’re a peach!” he said, and he let out his breath as if he’d been holding it. “Thank you, Janet — I’m truly grateful.” He came straight to me, bowed in the most courtly way, and handed back my missal. “I’ll walk you to church.”

That rattled me, because I hadn’t expected it. “No, don’t,” I said hastily. “There isn’t time. I’m going to be late. I have to run —”

Then I did run, or I walked so fast that it wasn’t dignified. I felt like a branch that had been snatched from the burning.

I got to Mass in the nick of time. I wanted to pray hard, but I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from David. I was afraid God would be furious with me, because I’m going to miss instruction two weeks in a row. And I was plotting to deceive a priest. I don’t believe even the Blessed Mother could have any patience with that. Finally I remembered what Father Horst said and just begged God for mercy and forgiveness.

For a few moments after that, I felt at peace. But then thoughts of David filled my mind again. I’ve spent this whole day in a daze, and now I’m waiting. I told David I’m in the library most nights; he might not have known it before, but he knows it now. He might stop by after the dance and look in on me and say hello. It would just be friendliness, but he is friendly. There wouldn’t be anything improper, because I’m not in my nightgown. I changed into my blue dress, the one that doesn’t have the chalk stains.