"Well, she had brought a few bottles of wine along. I didn't think anything of it. We had them at dinner and kept talking and drinking and talking. I guess I got a little intoxicated. And I'd been missing you so. But I'm not going to make that my excuse," he added quickly. "I know that's not a justifiable excuse . . I just want you to understand what happened and how it happened."
"I'm listening," I said. I was cold-eyed, stern, and determined. He had to look away.
"Well, it was a hot night to start with, and as usual Fanny was wearing this very loose, off-theshoulder thin, cotton dress. I didn't realize it at first, but as we were talking and drinking, that dress slipped lower and lower until . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know how it actually happened. One moment we were sitting by the table and the next she had her arms around me and she was half naked.
"She kept talking about how lonely she was and how lonely I must be and how much she needed to be loved and how one night wouldn't matter. The wine had made me dizzy. Before I realized it, we were in bed.
"I tell you, it was more like I was raped than I made love to her," he pleaded.
"Oh, how you must have suffered," I said sarcastically. He pulled his hands back and nodded slowly.
"I know. You're not wrong. I can't make up any excuse that would justify what happened, but believe me, it was that one time only. After I realized what was happening and what we had done, I felt terrible and I demanded she leave the cabin and not come around the site anymore.
&n
bsp; "I thought that was the end of it . . . a one night's indiscretion. I put it out of my mind, convincing myself it was a nightmare. I thought that if I thought of it that way, I could live with it and eventually forget it.
"Please, Heaven, believe me. There is nothing more to it. I don't love Fanny. I don't even like her. But . . . but I'm only a man and she knew how to take advantage of that fact, just as the devil would," he added quickly.
"I've avoided her like the plague ever since. She came back to the site a few times, but I wouldn't even look at her." He sat down beside me. "I know it's asking a lot to ask you to forgive me, but I am asking you to do that," he said. He reached for my hand. I let him take it, but I didn't look at him. "I don't know what I can do to make it up to you. I can only tell you that you are my life now, and if you turn from me or want to leave me, I don't know what I'll do. I mean that."
I didn't say anything. He lowered his head. He couldn't know it, but there was a war going on inside me. It was as if there were two of me. One wanted to be hard and mean, wanted to say all sorts of vicious and angry things and chase him from the suite. Men, I thought. How false they could be. They never stopped being little boys, selfish little boys. This part of me knew Logan was trying to twist and connive events, trying to make himself out to be the real victim here. As if it could be all Fanny's fault.
Then the second part of me, the softer, forgiving part, saw the agony in Logan's eyes, the torment in his face. He was afraid of losing me. Perhaps he was telling the truth; perhaps he was guilty of only a single indiscretion. Maybe he had been lonely and I had been wrong not to accompany him to Winnerow.
And what had kept me from doing that? my second self asked. Wasn't it my longing for Troy, my infatuation with the past, my effort to make the impossible possible? I did bear some guilt here. It was only just that I be forgiving.
"Heaven," he said again, pressing my hand to his cheek. "Please, believe me. It was a mistake and I'm sorry for it. I didn't want to do anything to hurt you."
"She says the baby is yours," I repeated.
"What should I do? You tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you think is right."
"When it comes to Fanny, you can't be concerned with what is right and what isn't. Fanny will get her way. What she will do is make it known that you and she slept together."
"But everyone in Winnerow knows what she is," he said. "Surely because of that--"
"Because of that they'll believe her," I said. "If every Tom, Dick, and Harry is sleeping with her, why not Logan Stonewall, too? Many of those people are eager and willing to believe bad things about us, either because they are jealous or because they still can't stomach a Casteel being so wealthy and powerful in their hometown."
"Are you saying we should let Fanny blackmail us?"
"It might be your child, might it not, anyway?" I asked. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "I'll handle Fanny," I said. "She'll be happy once she knows she's going to be taken care of, once she knows she's hurt me deeply."
"Oh, God, Heaven. I'm so sorry. So sorry," he wailed, pressing his hands to his face. A part of me wanted to comfort him, but a stronger, harder part of me wouldn't let me.
"Think of an excuse for your sudden return," I said.
"I don't want Tony to know about this right now." "All right. I'll just tell him I missed you and--" I spun around so fast he swallowed the rest of his words.
"I don't want to hear any of that right now, Logan. I just want to go to sleep and see what I can do in the morning to pick up my self-respect. Do you understand?"
He nodded, looking so weak and insecure and regretful I was almost unable to continue my hard demeanor.
"Good," I said and prepared for bed.
Afterward, he crawled in beside me, taking great care not to touch me. He crumpled up as far away as he could on his side of the bed. When I looked over at him, he did look like a little boy, a little boy who had been naughty and sent to bed without any supper. He would try not to breathe too loud, afraid he might bring on some further chastisement.
I couldn't help wondering how it would have been, had it been the other way around. What would have been his reaction had I confessed to him about my meeting with Troy and our lovemaking? Would he have forgiven me or hated me? Would he have understood? Would he have forced me to sleep far away from him in the bed and not touched me, not given me any hope of redeeming myself?