All the Pretty Dead Girls Part 15

Ginny bit her lip. "You're certain about this? She's really manifested stigmata?"

"Hands and feet. The whole bit. The girl says the Virgin gave it to her to make people believe."

"Well," Ginny said, "if she's really got stigmata, then I'd be interested to speak with her."

"Exactly. If I can get you to confirm it, there's a story. If not-then my editors wouldn't run this."

Ginny smiled. "So in other words, you need me."

"Well, I thought you might be interested since you're working on a book." Gayle's eyes twinkled. "Maybe we can help each other."

"Why would they want to talk to me?" Ginny asked. "Thanks to you, I already have a reputation as an unbeliever in this town."

"Well, they're very confused. The family. The father especially. The mother is a devout Catholic and thinks it's a miracle. You should try to talk to the father. His name is Pierre deSalis." She spelled it for Ginny. "They're listed in the phone book."

"I might try to contact him," Ginny said. "But that doesn't mean I'd tell you anything he might share with me in confidence."

Gayle pouted. "But I gave you the tip."

"Scholars don't work like journalists," Ginny told her. "And we can all be grateful for that."

"But if I call you for a quote, you get publicity for your book." She smiled mischieviously. "And maybe I can work into the story how respectful of religion you are, and make up for all that bad press before."

"You can call," Ginny said. "Maybe I'll have been to see the deSalis family, maybe not. And maybe I'll be able to tell you what I've learned, and maybe I'll just say, 'No comment.'"

"Come on, Dr. Marshall. I know you'll be a sport." Gayle stood. "I'm a working mom, after all, just trying to make a living to keep food on the table for my kids."

"I really am am busy," Ginny told her. "I have a lecture to prepare for." busy," Ginny told her. "I have a lecture to prepare for."

"Okay. Thanks for your time. I'll call you in a few days."

Ginny just nodded as Gayle let herself out, closing the door behind her.

A Virgin sighting right here in Lebanon, she thought, chewing on her pencil. she thought, chewing on her pencil. Complete with stigmata. Complete with stigmata.

Ginny smiled to herself.

Maybe I'll get the d.a.m.ned book done after all.

24.

"So, it went well?" Malika was asking. "This seems to be turning serious."

Sue rubbed cold cream into her face and looked over her shoulder at Malika standing in the doorway to their bathroom. "Well," she said, "we'll see if he asks me out again."

"Why would he not?" Malika laughed, leaning on the door frame, her voice teasing. "Is it not every high school boy's dream to date a college girl?" She sighed. "Do I get to meet this boy someday? Or does he have two heads or something?"

Sue looked back into the mirror. Tonight had been her third date with Billy. They'd gone, as they always did, to Senandaga to see a movie. The movies playing at the twin cinema in Lebanon hadn't interested either of them for the third week in a row. They were second-run films, and somehow it seemed more exciting to get away to the "big" city. Tonight, as they'd done both other times, they'd eaten dinner at a small Italian place near the megaplex, and once again failed to convince the waiter they were old enough to order a bottle of wine.

It didn't matter. Sue really liked being with Billy. They'd held hands during the movie, and he'd bought her popcorn, and he'd jumped as much as she did during the scary parts. It was really very sweet. So this is what dating is like, So this is what dating is like, Sue thought. Sue thought.

She realized pretty quickly that, for all Billy's jock arrogance, he was still a country hick-which only endeared him to her more. He opened the door of his mother's car for her. (Sue had tried to get him to agree to let her drive her own car, but he'd insisted he pick her up.) If he caught himself about to say "s.h.i.t" or "f.u.c.k," he stopped and apologized to her. It was all, well, quite chivalrous.

Becca Stansfield would probably call Billy boring. He hadn't so much as made a pa.s.s at Sue yet. Billy wasn't anything like she thought a guy would be-what she'd been led to expect by her friends back in high school. Three dates, and he hadn't once tried to put a hand up her sweater or down her pants. Every time he'd drop her off in front of Bentley Hall, he'd kiss her-but with his hands on her shoulders.

Who'd have thought that she'd meet her first boyfriend in the little town of Lebanon?

Once, when she'd complained about her awkwardness with boys to her grandmother, Sue had merely gotten a smile and a pat on the head as response. "There's plenty of time for that later," her grandmother had said, "after you get your education. You have your whole life ahead of you."

They had been sitting in the living room, her grandmother next to her on the couch. Gran was embroidering a tablecloth for some charity or another, her needle flashing in the sunlight as it went in and out of the linen, pulling golden thread behind it. "The last thing you want is to fall in love too young," she told Sue, "and throw the rest of your life away."

"But didn't you get married at eighteen?" Sue asked.

The love story of her grandparents was something she'd heard so often she could practically repeat it word for word. They'd been from rural northeast Alabama, "waaaaaay back in the hills," and had met when they were in grade school. They'd started going steady when they were in the seventh grade, and were married right after graduating from high school. They'd moved down to Tuscaloosa, where Granpa had gone to the University of Alabama and Gran had worked to support them both while he studied and went to cla.s.s.

"Look how wonderful that turned out!" Sue reminded her grandmother. "I mean, neither one of you even had electricity or indoor plumbing when you were growing up, and now look where you both are! A gorgeous apartment on Central Park, and servants, and Granpa is one of the top men in his field, and the two of you have always been so happy together."

The needle stopped moving. "We all make choices," Gran said.

Her voice-Sue would never forget it-was dull and lifeless. She saw that her grandmother was looking across the room at the shrine to her daughter. "Sometimes, the choices you make seem like the right ones at the time."

For the first time, Sue had wondered if maybe not everything between Gran and Granpa had always been so rosy.

Gran took Sue's hand. "Yes, we have come a long way...but you have to remember, those years in Tuscaloosa were very hard ones for both of us. We made some decisions..." The old woman's voice trailed off, and then she shook her head. "No, Sue, dear, trust me. There's plenty of time for that later."

She started working with the needle again. Sue studied her.

"Do you mean that maybe you wish you had made some other decisions along the way?" she asked her grandmother softly.

"Regret is a pointless exercise." Gran was sewing faster now. "Trust me, Sue. There will be time for you to think about boys later."

"Well?" Malika was asking. "Do I get to meet him?"

"Of course. Next time. Billy's very sweet. You'll like him."

Sue washed her face and turned off the water, grabbing a towel and walking back into the bedroom.

"I wouldn't mind meeting a man myself," Malika moaned, flopping down on her bed. "d.a.m.n girls' school!"

"Come on." Sue laughed, sitting opposite her and brushing her hair. "There are plenty of boys in Lebanon-and there's a rumor there are even some male grad students here, though I've never seen one of them. Where are they hiding?"

"No offense, Sue, but I do not want a boy, boy," Malika sniffed, "I want a man man-a man who knows what he's doing. Last summer, I met this man in Rome, Leonardo..." Malika smiled and closed her eyes. "I just hope my parents are still stationed in Rome this next summer." She winked. "Italian men know how to treat a woman-not like clumsy boys."

"Billy's just fine for me right now," Sue replied. She pulled her laptop across the bed toward her and clicked on her e-mail program. Nothing. Still no response from Joyce Davenport. Nearly three weeks and no reply. She's a busy woman, She's a busy woman, Sue told herself. Sue told herself. She'll answer when she gets a chance. She'll answer when she gets a chance.

Both girls were exhausted. School was finally starting to feel like school. They'd both had tests today, and both were a little unsure about how they'd done. The work was getting more difficult. Both had early cla.s.ses the next day, too, so the lights went out and both tried to get to sleep. Within moments, Malika was breathing in the steady cadence of sleep. But not Sue.

Sue stared up at the ceiling. After she finished reading Joyce's book, she'd e-mailed her to thank her. I'd really like to talk to you about my mother, I'd really like to talk to you about my mother, she'd typed at the bottom before signing her name. She'd stared at the computer screen for a minute or two before clicking she'd typed at the bottom before signing her name. She'd stared at the computer screen for a minute or two before clicking SEND SEND.

Had she really thought Joyce would respond right away? She probably gets hundred of e-mails a day. Maybe she hasn't even read it yet. Maybe an a.s.sistant got the e-mail and hasn't pa.s.sed it on to her.

Maybe I should try calling her. She gave me her cell phone number. But if she did get my e-mail and simply hasn't had time to respond, I'll seem like a pest.

But she had made such a point of meeting me. Why have me come backstage to meet her if she didn't really want to get to know me?

When she'd mentioned to Malika that she was still waiting on an e-mail response from Joyce, all she'd gotten in response was a snort. "I told you, she is a mean-spirited b.i.t.c.h. I would think reading her book would have made you aware of that."

Yes, she had seen a meanness to Joyce in her book. A small-mindedness. But she'd also seen a strong, independent woman who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind. Who, like Gran, may have made some decisions she regretted-but for whom regret was a pointless waste of time.

Despite everything else, Sue liked that about Joyce Davenport.

The wind was howling outside. A major thunderstorm was rolling in from the north, and according to the weather report, was supposed to last all night. Sue heard the rain come, slamming against the windows, which rattled in their frames. Malika stirred, but didn't awaken. Malika almost always fell instantly asleep the second her head hit the pillow. Sue admired-even envied-her peace of mind.

In the past three weeks, much of Sue's fear about the room upstairs had eased-at least until recently. It had begun to seem like a silly obsession-a misplacement of anxiety and fear about being away from home for the first time. Girls laughed and gossiped about the "haunted" room. They weren't really frightened by it. As Bonnie's disappearance faded from the news, the girls on campus stopped talking about it-and her empty room no longer seemed so fascinating. It was just a room.

And not since that day she'd gone upstairs had Sue seen a face at the window. All of this served to make her feel she'd been silly for being so afraid.

But yesterday a twinge of the old fear came back. It was nothing, Sue tried to tell herself. She was sure it was just a coincidence. But yesterday Malika mentioned something she'd forgotten to tell her-that three weeks ago, Joelle Bartlett had come looking for her.

"I'm sorry," Malika said. "It totally slipped my mind. But what made me remember was someone mentioned to me today that she'd left school."

"Left school?" Sue asked. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's odd, because this was her senior year."

"Well, her roommate must know the reason."

Malika shook her head. "You haven't heard? Tish was expelled."

"What?"

"Yeah. No one had seen her around either for days, and finally, one of the teachers said she'd been kicked out for signing Bonnie Warner into the welcome ceremony."

Sue had been stunned, unable to respond.

So both girls who'd lived across from Room 323-both girls with whom Sue had shared her story about seeing the face-were now gone.

Dead girls.

No, stop it, Sue told herself again, turning over in bed. Sue told herself again, turning over in bed. They are not dead! They just left school. They are not dead! They just left school.

They are not not like Lori and Melissa. like Lori and Melissa.

Sue closed her eyes and listened to the wind and the rain. She tried to think about something more pleasant.

Like Billy.

She liked him. She liked him a lot. When she was with him, she could forget everything else. He was good-a c.o.c.ky little showoff, sure-but a good, decent boy. The kind Becca Stansfield had told her didn't exist anymore.

Sue was very grateful Billy hadn't tried anything with her. If he had, if he'd tried to push her into going further, she probably wouldn't have gone out with him again.

For the truth was, s.e.x didn't really interest her. She had no yearning to discover what it was like. When her friends at Stowe had talked about wanting to have s.e.x, Sue had always felt as if they were speaking a foreign language she didn't understand. She wondered occasionally if there was something wrong with her, if something inside her was missing somehow. s.e.x scenes in books and movies never did anything for her. Once, her friend Linda Deviney had found her father's stash of p.o.r.n videos, pilfering one for them to watch-and it had left Sue repulsed. Watching the blowsy woman with the sagging b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the hairy man with the large p.e.n.i.s grunt and sweat and make agonized faces had turned Sue's stomach. This is what everyone is so obsessed with? This is what everyone is so obsessed with?

She'd never had crushes on movie stars or pop singers, not really. She could look at somebody like Brad Pitt or Orlando Bloom and appreciate appreciate the way they looked, but it was never anything deeper or more emotional than that. Certainly, the boys she met had done nothing for her. Her crush on Tom Parker had been about his mind-about the intensity he had when he talked about astrophysics-it wasn't about his eyes or his muscles or his b.u.t.t, the things other girls talked about. For a fleeting few moments a few years ago, Sue had even considered the possibility that she might be a lesbian-but then discarded that notion since girls' bodies left her even more disinterested than boys'. the way they looked, but it was never anything deeper or more emotional than that. Certainly, the boys she met had done nothing for her. Her crush on Tom Parker had been about his mind-about the intensity he had when he talked about astrophysics-it wasn't about his eyes or his muscles or his b.u.t.t, the things other girls talked about. For a fleeting few moments a few years ago, Sue had even considered the possibility that she might be a lesbian-but then discarded that notion since girls' bodies left her even more disinterested than boys'.

But Billy-he was different. different.

Billy made her smile. He made her relax and chill out more than any other guy ever had-or girl, for that matter. When Billy put his arm around Sue's shoulders in the darkened movie theater, it felt comfortable and right. She felt warm inside, happy. When he kissed her, she liked it. She found herself looking at Billy's big strong hand as it hung from her shoulder rather than watching the movie. She was mesmerized by the uneven fingernails, the blue veins threading across the top, and the fine white hairs on the outside. When he held her hand as they walked out of the theater, making her laugh and smile as she looked deep into his frosty blue eyes, she wondered if this was what falling in love was like.

s.e.x she could live without.

But falling in love-that she found very nice indeed.

It was with Billy on her mind that Sue fell asleep.

And as the thunder and lightning crashed over Bentley Hall, Sue dreamed.

She and Billy were in his mother's Toyota Camry on their way back from Senandaga. They'd been to an action movie. Sue had hated it, and she was giving Billy a hard time about dragging her along to watch it with him.

"Bang bang, shoot 'em up, things go boom," she teased as they took the off-ramp to Lebanon. "Why can't boys ever get any further than that? Don't you guys care about plot?"

Billy grinned at her. "I care about plot. The movie had a plot."

"With holes in it big enough to drive this car through," she said, laughing more than she would have in real life. In real life, she probably wouldn't have teased Billy quite so much. But in her dream, Sue had known Billy a long time.

All her life, it seemed.

Maybe even longer.

His hand went from the side of the steering wheel to her knee. She looked down at his hand, and then back up at him and smiled. She felt a tingling where his hand was touching her bare knee, a vague sensation of warmth that started slowly creeping up her leg. "That's nice," she barely whispered, catching her breath and looking over at him.

This is what it's supposed to feel like, this is what a woman is supposed to feel when she wants a man. I'm not frigid, I just hadn't met the right guy yet.

"I love you, Sue," Billy said, moving his hand further up her leg.

She felt a strange sensation between her legs, in her lower abdomen, like hot liquid poured all over her.

"I love you, too, Billy," she said, and placed her left hand on his right knee. His leg was solid and strong, yet somehow soft to her touch, and he began to shift a little in the driver's seat.

"I want you, Sue," Billy said.

"And I want you, Billy," she whispered back.