Hidden Fires

William squinted at her carefully. “Maybe you don’t. Well, then, I’m going to be the one to teach you. Not some old, overgrown oaf.”

Terror gave Lauren the strength to free her arm and, turning, she tried to run from him. He was right behind her and grabbed her again before she had taken two steps. His arms went around her in a viselike grip and pulled her around to face him. His fleshy, wet lips mashed against hers.

Lauren couldn’t believe this was happening. Her mind screamed silently while his mouth over hers made actual screaming impossible. He held her even closer, his legs straddling hers as he bent over her. Then, placing his wet mouth against her ear, he muttered, “Don’t fight it, Lauren. I’ve watched you move in that maddening way of yours. I’m not fooled by the perfect lady act.” All this time, she could feel his cold hands working with the buttons on the back of her shirtwaist. She did scream when she felt his bloodless fingers against her flesh.

He stopped the scream with his mouth again and, as Lauren’s mouth was open, he thrust his tongue into it deeply. She fought even harder, scratching his face, pulling his hair, kicking his bony shins. An instinct of self-preservation drove her to do things she would never have thought herself capable of.

She was horrified to think about what all this awful pawing and slobbering culminated in, and she knew she could not allow it. Repulsion and fear gave her one last surge of strength, and she shoved against his chest with all her might. He staggered and fell backward over a petit-point cushioned footstool in front of Sybil’s easy chair. While he made an ungainly attempt to stand, Lauren lunged toward the fireplace and seized the iron poker, brandishing it in front of her.

“Get out of here,” she managed to croak between gulping breaths. “If you try to touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

Standing there with bleeding scratches on his face, his thin hair sticking out at varying angles, his clothes in disarray, William bore little resemblance to the stiff, circumspect minister who delivered hair-raising sermons to his congregation on the consequences of pursuing the lusts of the flesh.

“What would you tell everyone, Lauren darling, when they came in and found my skull crushed if, in fact, you succeeded? Your reputation would be irreparably damaged. People would believe that you’d invited me here while your watchdogs were out of town.” He took a tentative step toward her.

He stopped when she raised the poker higher. “I would never have thought myself capable of murder, but so help me, I will do it, William,” she threatened. “You’re a hypocrite and a parody of a man. Now get out of my sight. At once!”

He snickered nastily. “I’m not giving up. You probably delivered the goods to Lockett, anyway.” Having flung this final insult at her, he walked past her warily and paused in the hall only long enough to straighten his clothing and slip on his coat and hat. Lauren heard the front door open and close softly. She stood with the poker raised and only when the weight of it began to make her arms ache did she lower it.

She moved with stunned, dreamlike slowness. After climbing the stairs as if she wore lead shoes, she opened the door to her room and then locked it behind her. She crossed to her dresser and looked with dismay at her reflection in the mirror.

Her chin was still shiny with William’s saliva. Her hair hung in tangled knots down her back.

She removed her clothing as she drew water into the deep tub. She rinsed her mouth out several times with antiseptic, and then stepped into the hot water to soak away the degradation. The bruises on her upper arms were painful.

Lauren had awakened the next morning still shattered from the experience of the night before. Pacing the floor, she tried to arrange her thoughts. How was she going to tell the guileless Prathers what had happened? Their disillusionment with the young pastor would be shocking. Certainly Abel would have to relieve him of his position and forbid him to ever enter this house again. Lauren wished she could spare them this hurt, but she couldn’t remain silent. William Keller was a menace.

It never occurred to her that her guardians wouldn’t believe her.

When they came home, she welcomed them happily. Sybil’s chattering helped dispel the gloom in the house, which had seemed to become even more oppressive since last evening. Lauren was presented with a box of lace handkerchiefs. She thanked the Prathers profusely while consciously ushering them into the parlor.

They had just sat down when the doorbell rang. Lauren was astounded to hear William’s voice when Abel answered it. They spoke quietly for a few moments before a perplexed Abel stood under the portiere and said, “If you ladies will excuse us, William has an urgent matter to discuss with me. We’ll no doubt join you shortly.”

He disappeared in the direction of his study and a nameless premonition pricked Lauren’s mind. She was nervous and apprehensive as she listened to Sybil’s detailed account of the trip. Lauren’s mouth went dry and her agitation grew as the interview in the study stretch

ed into a half-hour.

Her heart lurched when she heard the study door opening and the two men came into the parlor. Abel’s face was an alarming red. He shook his head as he looked disbelievingly at Lauren. William stood several humble steps behind him. He seemed contrite, but Lauren caught a victorious gleam in his reptilian eyes when they lighted on her.

“Abel, what—” Sybil’s voice quivered when she saw her husband’s obvious distress.

“My dear, I wish I could spare you this, but I’m afraid you’ll have to know of our shame sooner or later.”

Abel crossed the room with a heavy tread and sat down beside his wife, taking her hand. William stood just inside the doorway and studied the ugly carpet under his serviceable shoes.

Was it possible William thought she had told the Prathers about his shameful behavior last night and had come to apologize? Her surmise was rejected when she saw the expression on Abel’s face as he turned toward her. It was sad. It was censoring. It was sanctimonious.

He sighed before he said, “Fornication is a grievous sin, Lauren.” Her lips parted in astonishment. Sybil gasped and crammed a handkerchief against her lips.

“What—” Lauren started to speak, but Abel continued.

“It is an abomination unto the Lord. William has come to me like a man and confessed that the two of you have for several months yielded to your lusts.”

Sybil collapsed against the back of the sofa, and tiny sobs escaped from her trembling lips. Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but again Abel anticipated her.

“A man’s drives are stronger than a woman’s. Even a man of God like William isn’t free from the cravings of his flesh. However,” here his voice became more stern, “it is up to the woman to keep a tight rein on those cravings. William told me that you enticed him to the point where he succumbed.”

Sybil cried out loud now, the tears flowing copiously down her fat cheeks. All the blood drained from Lauren’s face. The wild pounding of her heart seemed to stop. I must be dreaming, she told herself.