Chapter III: Part 3

“Turn around,” Lilian said, and stepped back. The dark eyes traveled from Peggy’s generous breasts to her exposed belly, across the polka-dotted triangle, down the firm thighs—and back to the breasts.

Lilian smiled. “I guess you are a little bigger than I,” she said, moving toward Peggy. She reached out to straighten the ribbon and thus cover a nipple that insisted on peeking over the edge of the band.

The touch of Lilian’s agile hand against her breast made Peggy’s skin tingle. She made an attempt to push the hand away, but in the process both girls moved so that the hand dropped straight down, one long nail leaving a mark on Peggy’s skin, then catching in the top of the bikini panty.

Peggy’s eyes flashed to Lilian’s face. Neither girl moved. They stood fractions of an inch away from each other—Peggy’s heaving breasts all but touching Lilian’s semi-exposed bosom. Lilian’s left hand, warm now, rested on Peggy’s forearm, while the finger of the other still clung to the suit. Dark eyes held hazel. Hazel eyes did not waver.

It was Lilian who moved first. She withdrew her hand, removed her finger, looked away.

“I’m sorry, Peggy,” she said, eyeing the red scratch on Peggy’s stomach. She ran a fingertip along the mark. “Does it hurt?”

Peggy laughed uncomfortably. “Forget it. I’m accident-prone. I should have told you.”

“You’re elegant in that suit, Peggy! Look in the mirror.”

Lilian started out of the cabin.

“I’ll be right back—I’m going to the washroom—”

Peggy padded over to the full-length mirror on the closet door. She was startled by the girl gazing back at her. The bikini certainly did things for her nineteen-year-old body.

Peggy Matthews studied herself from head to toe. She took in the blond hair that fell to her shoulders, thick and silky, dipping in a wave on her forehead—the unusual clear-hazel eyes smoldering under starry lashes—the pert nose with its touch of little-girl innocence—the full cherry lips, moist, slightly parted, yielding a glimpse of even white teeth. She inspected the ivory column that was her neck, her tapered shoulders still glistening with liniment, her breasts—full and firm, proud in their youthfulness.

Peggy wanted to tear away the knotted band hiding the bold pink nipples. She wanted to see them staring back at her, taut and ready for love. But she resisted the impulse and lowered her eyes to the bareness below the ribbon—to the skin so white because it was always hidden from the sun, skin petal-soft and baby-smooth—to the dark hollow that was her navel, small and unobtrusive, yet in its own way attractive, she thought—to the flat stomach unblemished except for the red mark left by Lilian’s nail.

Her eyes rested then on the bikini triangle, bright and alluring, hiding practically nothing. She measured her hips, full and round, her firm thighs, golden with the sunlight they had captured. The legs, stemming long and shapely from the bikini’s edge to the painted toenails, she knew were good legs. Made for bathing suits and short skirts—and for loving, by the looks of them.

Loving....

Could so warm and womanly an exterior hide a rotten core?

Peggy shifted her glance and realized that she had not been the only one studying her near-naked body.

Lilian had returned and was standing in the doorway. She averted her eyes and walked in.

“Listen,” Peggy said. “This thing is too small. And too daring. I think I’d better get it off.” She struggled with the back ties once more.

“Let me help,” Lilian said. “I think there’s a knot.”

Peggy turned and fumbled with the lower ties, while Lilian worked on the ribbon. By the time Lilian had loosened the knot, Peggy was holding the triangular patch in her hand.

Lilian’s arm went around Peggy to catch the band as it slid from the quivering breasts.

Peggy whirled as the door creaked open. She was standing a breath away from Lilian—but facing so that Mike was gazing directly at her naked bosom.

There was not a whisper of sound in the room. Even the noises outside seemed to stop as the three girls confronted each other: Peggy covered only by a crumpled patch she held in front of her—Lilian, mouth open, startled out of her usual poise—and Mike, silent, sturdy body motionless in the flimsy black tanksuit.

Then, as though a lever had been pulled releasing them, all three moved at once. Peggy grabbed her shirt from the bed. Lilian stooped to pick up the fallen bikini. Mike mumbled, “Forgot my towel.” She grabbed the fluffy white terrycloth from a rack and slammed out of the cabin.

SIX

Standing in the glaring afternoon sunlight a few minutes later, her eyes focused on the shimmering blue water, Peggy wished she had begged off guard duty during free swim. It was difficult to concentrate on the swimmers when her thoughts kept flashing back to those last few minutes—seconds, actually—in the cabin.

What would Mike think, Peggy wondered. What could she think, being the kind of person she was?

And Lilian. Peggy blushed, thinking of how self-conscious she had been about baring her body, about being touched. Surely, after Lilian had walked in on that massaging bit, Peggy’s jumpy reactions must have put suspicions into the shrewd Lilian’s head. After all, what was out of the ordinary in visible nudity, in being helped to dress or undress, at a camp teeming with girls of all ages?

Peggy bit her lip. It served her right. Those feelings of lust and curiosity of hers had been wholly evil, noxiously twisted in a way that deserved scorn and punishment.

Yet she was quite convinced by now that something could be wrong with her. That bliss during the night, real or dreamed. That pleasure in the knowing touch of Mike’s hands. That hypersensitivity about her body exposed to Lilian. These made it imperative, it seemed to Peggy, that somehow she learned the truth about herself.

Peggy forced herself to concentrate on the youngsters in the roped-off “crib”—the section reserved for weak swimmers. Their shrill voices, as they frolicked and splashed, made them sound like a flock of birds.

The brilliant sun beat down on Peggy’s bare back and hair, burning her skin and making her scalp hot and sticky. Her eyes skimmed the crystal water, traveling past the swimmers, out to the dark center where you could dive to icy depths that the sun could not reach. Soon she would go in for a dip and get rid of that liniment smell. Her shoulder did feel much better.

Peggy snapped to attention. Some of the girls had started a game of water tag. This was allowed, but always threatened trouble: a collision, an upset, an unexpected gulp of lake water going down the wrong pipe and leaving a girl gasping. Peggy followed the proceedings with an alert eye as the kids squealed and splashed and dodged in all directions. Shrill cries and laughter floated upward.

Peggy smiled involuntarily at sight of the merriment, but her attention was soon drawn to another bunch of girls, somewhat older, swimming in from the diving raft. One slick blond head was falling behind, and the strokes were labored. Peggy squinted against the sun. She recognized the head as that of Susie Edison. Suddenly the child threw up a hand, seemed to slip backward in the water. In a moment she was submerged. She surfaced, lifted her other hand wildly, disappeared again.

Peggy blew three sharp blasts on her whistle.

In a bound, Peggy had leaped from the dock and was wading through the crib to deep water. At the sound of the whistle, as trained, the campers stopped all activity, pulled in to shore or stopped where they were, treading water.

On station far on the other side of the raft, Mike heard the signal and came piling in with the boat, oars flying furiously. Dorothy, the tall riding instructress, was on raft duty. She took a long, racing dive, crawled hard toward the sinking child.

But it was Peggy who got there first. She surface-dived, caught Susie about four feet down, easily evaded the hold the child tried to clamp on her. Working from behind, Peggy twisted Susie into a cross-arm carry, kicked to the surface and began pulling her to safety.

At the dock, Mike took Susie into her arms, ran with her to the bathhouse. Dorothy and Peggy were close behind, along with dozens of frightened campers and counselors.

“Ella, see if you can find Miss Beth. She might be in the Pillbox,” Peggy called to one of them. “You go too, Joyce. Look in the lounge. Tell Miss Beth to come right away. The rest of you stand back. Keep away from the bathhouse—”

But the Intermediate group was already out of the water and thronging the interior of the bathhouse; they were scheduled for extra softball practice. They were standing around in every stage of dress and undress, drying themselves with towels, combing hair, sorting out shoes, giggling and squabbling with each other.

“Out, everybody!” yelled Dorothy. But the girls only backed up a bit as they caught sight of Mike carrying Susie. Peggy had found an air mattress. Susie was lowered to it. Moaning and sputtering, she lay with her legs doubled up, her hands clutching at her stomach.

Dorothy herded the Intermediates through the broad doorway, took up guard in front of it.

By this time Susie was sitting up, still sputtering and gasping, but strong enough to rub her eyes with her fists. “My belly,” she moaned. “It hurts.”

“Stomach cramp,” muttered Mike.

At that moment Beth walked in.

She was wearing a short, nubby beach coat over a one-piece orange swimsuit.

“What happened?” she wanted to know at once. Before Peggy had finished explaining, Beth had pulled off the coat and was wrapping it around the girl.

“Let’s get her dried off and warmed up before anything else,” Beth said. On her knees, she spoke reassuring to Susie. “As soon as you get out of this wet suit, you’ll feel better.” Beth fumbled under the robe, her fingers working expertly with fastenings. “Lift your foot,” she said. Then she pulled the cold, wet garment from Susie’s cramped and shivering body.

“Listen,” Mike said gruffly. “I’ve got to get back to the water. All the kids are waiting to resume the swim.”

“Go ahead,” Beth said. “Susie will be all right. Peggy will help me.”

“Come on, Dorothy,” Mike said at the doorway. She and the riding counselor, shooing away curious children at the doorway, walked off along the dock. Dorothy was not usually assigned to water duty, Peggy knew. Probably the tall girl was substituting for some counselor whose “day off” it was.

Peggy appreciatively watched Beth work. She had grabbed a towel from a nearby bench and was briskly rubbing the nude quivering body, all the while talking softly and soothingly. Susie relaxed a bit.

When she was completely dried, Beth helped her up and steered her toward the bench. But once more Susie’s arms clutched her aching belly. Beth attempted to force Susie back on the wooden bench but on second thought Beth herself sat down, lifted the chubby ten-year-old to her lap.

Beth held Susie close, urging the wet head to her shoulder, for a moment touching a cheek to the damp blond hair. She stroked tenderly, rocked back and forth, crooned and patted. She touched her lips to Susie’s neck.

The girl’s whimpering stopped.

“That’s my girl. Put your arm around my neck,” Beth said then, taking the arm from where Susie was still clutching herself. “You hold on to me, and I’ll make your tummy feel better,” the nurse promised.

The girl forced herself to keep her arm from her body. She clung desperately to Beth. Beth’s hand went under the warm robe, parting it slightly. For one second she stroked the virgin softness of the girl’s cramped belly. Then she began to rub. Her fingers massaged and kneaded, the heel of her hand pushed into the tightened muscle, forcing some of the pain away.

Susie lay quietly in Beth’s arms as the nurse worked, her head still resting on Beth’s shoulder. Her bare legs dangled from the loosened robe, her feet not quite touching the floor.

“Does that feel better?” Beth asked.

Susie nodded. One hand wiped away drying tears from her eyes. She snuggled closer to Beth, who kissed the creased brow.

“Can’t I do anything?” Peggy asked.

“I don’t think so, Peggy. I would guess the cramp is about gone.” She gave Susie a hug. “Think you can walk now, dear?” she asked.

Susie sat up straighter. She squirmed from Beth’s lap and tried to stand.

“Can you walk up the hill?”

“I g-guess so, Miss Beth.”

“We’ll be all right,” Beth told Peggy. “You can get back to duty.” Her voice full of somewhat overdone cheer, she said, “Susie’s going to have a little medicine, lie down in the Pillbox a while, and by this evening shell be as good as new. Right, Susie?”

“I-I guess so, Miss Beth.”

The pair started slowly up the hill, Beth with her arm around Susie, half-carrying the girl.

By the time Peggy got back to her post the swim period was almost over. She waved to Dorothy, standing on the dock, to tell her everything was under control. Peggy kept her eyes on the swimmers, forcing herself to stay alert. The water looked cool and inviting, and Peggy considered a quick dip after the campers were out, but as soon as Mike’s whistle blew a few minutes later signaling the end of the session, Peggy hurried from the dock. During her years at camp she had seen too many kids pulled out of the water to be overly concerned. Besides, she felt Susie was in good hands. Peggy narrowed her eyes. Maybe the hands were too good.

Peggy sighed. She would postpone considering that angle. All she wanted to do right now was avoid seeing Mike.

That’s why Peggy hurriedly left the waterfront. Still vivid in her mind was the scene in the cabin with Lilian and Mike glaring at each other. No, Peggy did not yet want to face Mike. For Peggy was embarrassed. Even more embarrassed now than she had been earlier that morning. Because at that time she had been embarrassed for herself. Now she was embarrassed for the redhead.

* * * * *

At dinner, Peggy went through her serving routine mechanically. Afterward, as the campers moved into the various game rooms and the library, and the counselors migrated to the lounge, Peggy ambled out of the lodge, began walking without direction.

“Going my way?” came a voice from the pines, a voice as warm as the balmy night air.

Peggy raised her eyes.

Standing ahead of her on the path was Beth.

Chagrin shot through Peggy. She had wanted to be alone. But the feeling swiftly disappeared. Beth’s obviously sincere pleasure in running into Peggy was contagious. As she approached the nurse, who looked neat and efficient as usual in her white outfit, Peggy could not help responding to the friendly smile that touched her lips.

“Things were so hectic at the waterfront today,” she said, “that I didn’t have a chance to ask how your date was.”

They moved off along the path, side by side.

“It went okay,” Peggy said.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

Peggy hesitated. Why not tell the truth? “We broke up,” she blurted. “For good, this time.”

“Peggy. You were so happy when he called—”

“Not really. I just thought I missed him, I guess.” She was silent a minute, thinking that Ted had not changed, that she had known he would not but had hoped that he might have. Hoped because she had needed him, needed him to talk to, to cling to rather than be sucked into the quicksands of evil threatening to engulf her. And he had disappointed her, leaving her still needing and desperately wanting someone to cling to, to rely on, if only for the sake of her own sanity. She sighed. “I don’t know, Beth. I’m at a loss about a couple of things. In fact, I feel pretty damned confused.”

Beth held a branch out of Peggy’s way, then let go when the girl had passed. It snapped back into place, the leaves swishing. “Why not come to the Pillbox with me?” the nurse invited. “I have to take care of a poison-ivy case, but then we can have some coffee, if you like. And if you want to talk, I’ll be glad to listen.”

A grateful feeling swept over Peggy.

* * * * *

Inside the infirmary, Peggy watched Beth check the prurient splotches on the camper’s leg, administer a salve, and send the girl away with instructions to leave the irritated area alone and stay out of the water.

“I’ll give Miss Judy some medicine for you,” the nurse said at the door. “You remind her tonight before you go to bed to put it on.” She shook her head. “Acres and acres of grass and woods, and she walks into one three-foot patch of poison ivy.” She gazed around at the compact, gleaming white clinic. “Come into my hideaway,” she invited. “It’s not so repulsively sterile.”

She led the way into the room that served as her living quarters. Peggy sank into an armchair, while Beth fussed at the hot plate.

Peggy’s eyes toured the small box of a place, sparsely furnished, but less rugged and more comfortable than the usual camp quarters. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow. The two windows were curtained. In one corner there was a neatly made bed topped by a flowered spread. A covered card table and two folding chairs served as a kitchen set, and in another corner were visible a half-refrigerator, a hot plate that sat on an all-purpose cabinet, and a sink.

Beth turned from her preparations, slipped off her white shoes and stockings, and stepped out of the white uniform. Peggy was surprised to note that underneath, Beth still wore the orange swimsuit in which she had appeared at the bathhouse. “Things have been so hectic,” Beth said, noting Peggy’s glance, “that I didn’t have time to change.”

“How is Susie?”

“Oh, fine. I sent her back to the cabin. These kids snap back so fast they make you dizzy.” Beth unpinned her jaunty nurse’s cap and stowed it, along with the rest of the uniform, in her closet. She donned a pair of bedroom slippers, then lowered herself into an armchair the twin of the one Peggy occupied.

Peggy marveled at the creamy perfection of the nurse’s bare shoulders. Except for faint marks where straps had once masked Beth’s back from the sun, her skin was pure golden smoothness. No, not really golden, Peggy thought, but more a hue with just a hint of sunshine, a whisper, as though the sunlight had been teasing the exposed nudity. There was a mellow quality to the skin, and a ripe softness in the quality of the nurse’s figure. Her breasts were full and richly curved. There was a maturity to the comely hips. Her legs, crossed in front of her, were unusually long. but shapely rather than slim.

“Well, Peggy,” she said, smiling, “do you want to tell me all about it?”

How explain to Beth? Better not even attempt it, Peggy thought.

“Oh—it’s just what we’ve already spoken of. New surroundings, new people, new rules and responsibilities.” She added thoughtfully, “And new experiences—just confusing—and a bit frustrating at times.”

“Is this camp much different from those at which you’ve worked?”

“Some. The place where I was last year is more a children’s resort than a camp; very plush. On the other hand, I’ve lived in tents and had to pump my own water—it was like one long overnight hike. This is between the two extremes. Also,” she continued, “they were both co-ed.” Peggy was thoughtful a moment. “You know, it made a difference to the girls—the counselors, I mean. There they were always primping, changing clothes. They always wore lipstick. No one would think of going in the water without a bathing cap. They weren’t neater, or anything—but more conscientious about appearance than they are here. Except, of course, some of them. Girls—well, girls like Mike, who don’t really care about guys.”

“Hey! What makes you think Mike doesn’t?”

_Beth, I know Mike is a lesbian. I know you are, too._ Why not say it, Peggy thought. Just blurt it out. No—no—probably Beth would die of shame....

Peggy shrugged. “Mike’s not the type. I knew some girls like her in school. They—” She stopped, confused and suddenly embarrassed. How much could she say to Beth? Just how much did Beth already know? Apart from being shamed, would she be angry or hurt if Peggy mentioned what she had overheard at the bathhouse—and what had happened since?

The girl wondered, wavered, trying to decide whether to take the nurse into her confidence or remain silent.

Then came the sound of the screen door banging. A meek voice queried, “Miss Beth—are you here?” Peggy sighed, relieved of the necessity to make a choice. The moment for unburdening herself was past.

“Excuse me, Peggy,” the nurse said, rising. She walked out to the clinic, Peggy following out of curiosity. “Well, look who’s here,” Beth said, greeting a pair of youngsters at the doorway. One towheaded girl, rather chubby and about eleven years old, hung back, tears in her eyes. The other, of the same age but with pipestem legs and long brown hair, spoke up shyly.

“Carol’s sick, Miss Beth.”

“And you brought her here? That’s nice of you, Doris. Come inside. Carol, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I—I don’t feel well. I really don’t,” the towheaded one said timidly.

Beth took them into the clinic. In a moment Carol was perched nervously on a tall metal stool, feet dangling, thermometer protruding from her mouth, wide eyes focused on her friend standing next to her.

“Is she okay, Miss Beth?”

“Oh—” Beth seemed to consider the question seriously. “I think probably she’ll live.”

This evoked a grin from the patient, a giggle from her friend.

Beth checked the thermometer, laid her hand on the girl’s cheek and forehead. Finally she spoke: “I think you’d better run along, Doris. I want to keep Carol a few minutes more, and you’ll lose all your free time if you stay here.”

Doris hesitated. “Well—if she’s not very sick—”

Peggy noticed a faint smile cross Beth’s face as she dropped her arm around the girl’s shoulders and escorted her to the door.

“No,” Beth said, “she isn’t very sick at all—that’s why you don’t have to stay. See?”

The screen door closed behind Doris. Beth approached the other girl.

“Get off the stool and sit there,” Beth said, indicating a more comfortable chair. “Now tell me,” she said when Carol was seated, “where do you feel bad?”

Carol put her hand to her forehead, holding it for a minute. Then she said, her blue eyes wide, “All over. My head aches and my belly—gee, it feels funny.” She grimaced, as though in great pain. “Will I have to go home, Miss Beth?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well....” She seemed to ponder solemnly. “Oh, Miss Beth, I do feel awful—”

And unexpectedly the girl burst into tears.

Peggy saw the troubled, pitying expression that fleeted over Beth’s face. She ran to the chair, slipped into it with Carol raised to a sitting position on the nurse’s lap. She pressed Carol to her bosom, hugged and kissed her. “There, child,” Beth crooned, rocking back and forth. “You don’t have to cry. You’ll be all right.”

She stroked Carol’s dangling legs, patted her, soothed her just as Peggy had seen Susie soothed. After a time, Carol stopped sobbing and began to hug and kiss Beth.

The kids all love her, Peggy thought. I guess that’s because she loves them. She’s so warm—so affectionate—

Beth now pushed Carol to her feet, and herself stood up, her face a bit flushed. She stepped over to the medicine chest. “I think if you take these pills, Carol, you’ll be better by morning.”

Beth handed her two pills and a glass of water. She waited a minute after the girl swallowed the medicine, and said, “I bet you feel better already, don’t you?”

“Kinda.”

Beth tried to suppress a smile. “You run along now. If you still feel sick after lunch tomorrow, let me know. But,” she added, “I hope you’re okay. Tomorrow night is the beach party, you know.”

“That’s right! I almost forgot.”

“So you try to feel better.”

“I will,” Carol said vehemently. “May I go now?”

“Sure.” Beth walked with her to the door, then returned to her own room, still smiling, Peggy at her side.

“What was that all about?” asked Peggy.

“Homesickness. There’s an epidemic going around.”

Peggy laughed, and nodded. “Oh, I should have known. I’ve seen that dread disease in action before.”

“It’s always the same—one girl gets homesick,” the nurse said, “and receives some extra attention, then suddenly a throng of girls have all kinds of symptoms. It’s amazing.”

“Beth, if you knew Carol wasn’t really sick, why did you bother with her?”

“Why not? Health is my job—including mental health, the way I see it. If two colored placebos and five minutes of my time can boost a kid’s morale, it’s worth the effort.”

Peggy wished that two pills—no particular color—could help her.

Or if not pills, then those five minutes of Beth’s time.

Why not? Why couldn’t she turn to Beth? The nurse was older, wiser. A knowing and sympathetic woman. Someone to lean on, yes—to cling to, as Peggy had hoped to be able to cling to Ted. No doubt she could dispel Peggy’s dread of the future.

“Does your job include keeping the counselors happy as well as the kids?”

“You bet!” Beth’s smile grew broader. “Why? Are you homesick, too?”

“It’s not that simple, believe me,” Peggy said. She was remembering, once again, how the nurse had tried to defend her, protect her from harm, during that horrible nocturnal argument in the bathhouse. Yes, Beth was her friend. Even at the risk of acute embarrassment for Beth, of letting her know that her lesbianism was no secret, should not Peggy speak up? How else learn who the other girl in the bathhouse had been—who had crawled in and seduced Peggy’s drugged body—who and how many were indulging in dangerous and hateful practices in this camp?

Dangerous and hateful, surely; nevertheless, the thought of love between women sent a swift stab through Peggy’s flesh. Her blood stirred. Guiltily, she took hold of herself. She would speak—right now—

But just as when previously she had nerved herself to this point, an interruption came. The same kind of interruption.

Beth’s name was shouted from outside. Somebody was again hammering on the screen door. Beth rushed out to answer.

Peggy heard a breathless counselor tell the nurse to come with her immediately. “One of the Juniors fell down the lodge steps,” she panted. “Pam said not to move her until you got there.”

Beth hurried back into her room, grabbed a cardigan sweater and a flashlight. She seemed to have forgotten Peggy was there. In a couple of seconds she was gone.

Peggy sat motionless, feeling peculiarly serene. She was illogically sure that the fallen girl would be all right, once Beth got at her. Beth had magic in her fingers, a personality warming and healing. Lesbian or not, what a wonderful person Beth was.

Finally Peggy rose, took Beth’s cup and her own and walked to the sink.

After she had rinsed the dishes and set them to drain, her eyes swept the homey room once more. Then she left, filled with an inner glow.

Yes. Beth had defended her once, when she had thought Peggy could not defend herself. She would do it again, if called upon. That was all Peggy had to know. There was someone on her side.

SEVEN

Except for the uneasiness she still felt in Mike’s presence, Peggy’s tranquil new state persisted. She had avoided both the husky-voiced redhead and the slim, elegant Lilian since that scene in their cabin, but now, two days later, she knew an encounter with Lilian was inevitable.

Peggy was trudging uphill behind an assemblage of berry-colored hikers weighed down with cooking utensils, canteens, bedding and knapsacks. Peggy herself was carrying on her back a load of food and hardware that would have crushed a mule. Lilian, a hundred paces ahead, was leading the procession.

Peggy urged on a couple of stragglers, then paused to light a cigarette, shifted her load to the other hand, considering the possibility of avoiding Lilian even now. But that would be silly, she chided herself, as the girls made their way along the winding gravel road, past sloping fields, old farmhouses, huge barns sometimes bright red, sometimes weathered colorless by wind and rain and time.

Most of the dwellings were painted white. The troop paused to admire one such house. It sat near the road on a carpet of thick green grass, decorated with shrubbery and playful calico cats, perfumed by wild rose and lilac bushes, surrounded by stretching acres of rich brown land.

Traffic was exceedingly sparse. Once a pickup truck came barreling down the road and passed the campers. The driver honked and waved—to the delight of the youngsters, who called greetings and flailed their arms in the air. In a flurry of dust and gravel, the truck disappeared around a curve, leaving the girls alone once more. They chattered and sang, marching along at a comfortable pace.

At last they reached the Allister farmhouse, where they were to replenish their water supply. They climbed a slope, rounded the house and clustered around the pump in the back. The pump squeaked and groaned as the girls took turns filling canteens and water jugs.

While the girls pumped, Peggy’s eyes roamed the rolling countryside. Idly she wondered if she would like to live on a farm, or at least out in the open, and knew instantly she would not.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Peggy whirled, and stood speechless.

Standing in front of her was that—that delivery boy. The one she had met in the woods.

“Hi,” he said, a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Well, don’t look so surprised. I’m Kirby Davis, remember? And this is Aunt Lelia’s place.” He laughed. “She always insists the girls stop here for water—makes her feel as though she’s still part of camp.”

Peggy noticed how the sun glinted in his crisp hair.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the fields at which Peggy had been gazing. “You know, most city people who come out here think they would like to stay forever. It’s so quiet and peaceful, they say. But inside a week, they would be straining at their collars to get back home to their sidewalks and soot. People today just don’t seem able to live with themselves. They have to have someone or something else to—” He stopped. “What’s the matter?”

Peggy was staring at Kirby Davis.

“You,” she said, “were carrying apple butter, right?”

“That’s right. Aunt Lelia’s best. She—”

“A heavy load of it, too.”

“You’re not kidding. Thought I’d break my back.”

“That was a peculiar way to deliver it.” Peggy pursed her lips. “Do you mean to say that you carried it over the fields and through the woods—all the way to camp—?”

The fellow chuckled. “I’m not that crazy!”

“Well,” said Peggy, “what were you doing in the woods, then? That’s a funny place for a guy to be—sneaking around in the woods, right on the edge of a girl’s camp!”

He gaped. “Say, you don’t think—I mean, are you trying to tell me I’m a Peeping Tom or something?” The idea seemed inordinately amusing to him. He broke into a guffaw, slapped his knobby knee. “For your information, lady,” he sputtered, “our car ran out of gas about a mile from the main gate. But through the woods it was only a couple of hundred yards to the lodge. So I took the box of stuff and legged it to your kitchen.” He guffawed again. “Excuse me for laughing, but ... Peeping Tom! I’ll be damned!”

“A likely story,” Peggy said quietly. “Why didn’t you just borrow some gas at the camp, then drive the truck in? That would have been easier than carrying fifty pounds of loaded jars, wouldn’t it?”

Kirby scowled. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

“Hell, yes. Intruders are not welcome around girls’ cabins, you know.”

“But I wasn’t intruding. I felt like such a jerk, running out of gas and all, that I thought I’d better have the apple butter with me in order to soften up your chef. It was from him that I had to borrow a can, and a siphon. It was his car I expected to get some gas from—and did. Maybe,” said Kirby, “it seems silly now, but—”

“Oh, never mind,” Peggy said. This fellow didn’t look much like a Peeping Tom, anyway. His lean face with its crooked smile was much too frank and open. His tall body, lanky and rather knobby at the joints, struck her as rather attractive. “I was just kidding.”

“Sure.” He was quite ready to forgive and forget. “What did you say your name was?”

“Peggy Matthews,” she told him.

“How do you do, Peggy.”

“Well,” she said, “the kids are about finished loading up on your water. I guess we’d better be moving on. We have a way to go yet.” She waved to Lilian, who blew her whistle. The campers started marching off, some calling goodbye to Kirby.

“Peggy—”

She halted, and he walked toward her.

“Were you thinking you would like to live in the country?”

Anger flashed through her. “No,” she said. “Although it would be nice to be able to wander around for a while where no one would bother me.”

Kirby’s brown eyes widened. He turned, walked away without speaking.

Peggy gazed after him. Why had she been so rude? Was she that fed up with the male sex?

During the hour-long walk from the Allister farm to the campsite, Peggy forgot about Kirby Davis. Stew simmered over the open fire and was eaten. The utensils were rinsed in a nearby stream and boiled in a big black cooking pot. Games were played, stories told.

At last Peggy lay wrapped in her blankets, her thoughts drifting back to her last evening with Beth. She felt as though she and Beth had discussed in detail all the things that had been pulling at Peggy’s mind, her sense of relief and well-being was so great. It was hard for her to realize that nothing at all had actually changed.

But at least she could laugh at herself now when she remembered how anxious she had been to test lesbian love. She realized she had been behaving in quite as sex-preoccupied a fashion as Ted, whom she condemned for it.

She still did wonder sometimes about making love with another woman, especially when she recalled Mike’s massaging hands on her back—and even more especially, the night of illicit pleasure in the Pillbox. But she knew now that what she wanted and needed—much more than a bedmate—was a friend.

Just then she glimpsed a figure moving among the sleeping campers. She twisted her head to watch Lilian coming toward her, picking her way quietly and carefully among the scattered bedrolls.

“One of the major catastrophes of camp counseling,” said Lilian, as she sat down at Peggy’s feet, “is the lack of privacy. You’re always watching, or being watched.”

Peggy sat up, hugged her knees. All right, so here was Lilian. Might as well be as friendly as possible. “Got a cigarette handy?”

Lilian lit one, passed it to Peggy.

Peggy smoked calmly, waiting for Lilian to go on but she, too, had fallen silent. The only sounds were from the crickets and the rippling stream some fifty yards away. Then in the distance, a dog howled. One of the campers stirred restlessly. After the girl had settled down, Lilian spoke again.

“I’m glad of this chance to talk, Peggy. At camp we’re always so busy. We never get together for long. And there’s practically no opportunity to be alone—one advantage of these hideous sleepouts,” she said with a wry laugh.

“You don’t like them?” Peggy was shocked.

“Do you? What is there to like? Except that it gets us away from camp routine—which can be even more hideous.”

There was no moon, and the stars did not cast enough light for Peggy to make out the expression on Lilian’s face. But she was uncomfortably aware that Lilian was staring toward her. Lilian was shrewd and alert, and had been working at this camp for several years. Surely, if the place were in the slightest tainted by lesbianism, Lilian would know it. Unquestionably, for instance, she would know about Mike, and this would explain her coldness toward Mike. It would also explain why she had not encouraged chumminess between Mike and Peggy; no doubt Lilian had been suspicious of Mike’s intentions and had wanted Peggy to be away from her influence. It would explain, too, why Lilian had held herself rather aloof from Peggy since stumbling on Mike massaging her with liniment. All these thoughts were in Peggy’s mind as she felt Lilian’s stare on her. No doubt she strongly suspected that Peggy had given way to temptation.

Her next words confirmed Peggy’s suspicions.

“The thing that beats me,” Lilian said, “is that you seem pretty thick with Mike.”

“I was,” Peggy said. “I don’t see much of her any more.”

“But what did you ever see in a girl like that? God—she’s not even a girl. She’s a—a lady wrestler. Peggy, for your own good, there are some things I ought to tell you about her.”

“Really?”

“I—”

Lilian hushed. One of the campers was tossing about in her nearby bedroll.

Lilian waited. The girl sat up, rubbed her eyes. She looked around, noticed the counselors close by, and reached for her flashlight. Peggy and Lilian sat quietly as she tiptoed toward them. They recognized her as the cute blond ten-year-old, Susie.

“Miss Peggy,” she began in a sleepy voice, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Peggy grinned in the darkness. “You do, hey? Well,” she said unwinding herself from her blankets, “I guess we’d better take a walk.” Peggy stood up, slipped on her shoes. She took Susie by the hand.

As they tripped their way toward the brush surrounding the sleepers, the girl spoke. “Do you think I could go on the next overnight, Miss Peggy?”

“I’m not sure, Susie. I didn’t know you liked it that much. I’ll bear you in mind, and we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

The girl nodded, temporarily satisfied.

Peggy patiently killed time while Susie went behind what she considered a proper bush. When she had emerged, she said, “I’m sorry to be such a baby about the dark. But I am, that’s all. I’m afraid of it.”

As they returned to the sleeping area, Susie was still talking. “Are you and Miss Lilian going to sit up all night?”

“Of course not, Susie. We just had some things to discuss.”

“I’m glad,” the girl said with obvious relief. She hesitated a moment because they had come to Peggy’s bedroll, where Lilian was still sitting. “You see,” Susie began, “I want to—” She stopped, took another approach. “Would it be all right—I mean, well, I wondered if maybe I could move my blankets close to you because—”

Lilian said, “Oh, nonsense.”

“You’re not afraid of sleeping out here, are you, Susie?” Peggy asked.

“Well, kinda,” the girl admitted.

“Why do you want to come on more overnight hikes if you don’t like them?” Peggy wanted to know.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like them—I said I was a little afraid. You told us that good campers aren’t afraid.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe after a couple more overnights I’ll be a good camper like you and Miss Lilian.”

Peggy stood smiling as Lilian led the girl to her bedroll, and tucked her in. Then Peggy crawled into her own blankets and lay staring through the pine boughs at the star patterns in the inky sky. After a while she was lulled to sleep by the serenading crickets.

She was awakened by a noise. It sounded like someone sobbing. Her first impulse was to reach over and switch on the light, but then she sat up. Those were sobs all right, coming from one of the girls.

Peggy’s eyes combed the dark lumps that were campers curled in their bedrolls. She made out Lilian cradling a form, and immediately rose to join her.

“It’s all right,” Lilian snapped, as Peggy neared the spot. Lilian moved away from the still sobbing girl, and Peggy saw that it was Susie. “She was having a nightmare, that’s all,” Lilian said. “You didn’t have to bother. She’ll be fine in a couple of minutes.”

Peggy kneeled. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Susie. Miss Lilian is right here in case anything happens. You go to sleep now. And no more bad dreams.” Susie stopped crying. Peggy pulled the covers around the girl and stood up.

“Lucky thing I was awake,” Lilian whispered. “I’m just not sleepy. Never am on these outdoor jaunts.”

They waited a few moments. Susie seemed quiet. Peggy started to walk toward her blankets. Lilian walked along beside her.

“I was telling you about Mike, before,” Lilian reminded Peggy. “Now that we’re both up, I might as well continue. You see, that girl can do others a lot of harm. She looks like one of those candid, honest types, but she can invent the most awful gossip. Of course, that’s far from the worst of it. She ... Susie!”

The blond ten-year-old stood before them, clutching the bedroll she dragged behind her.

Lilian laughed. So did Peggy. “Oh, I guess I might as well let her sleep alongside me.”

“Think you should?” Lilian frowned. “It’s against the rules. Special privileges, and all that—”

Peggy was as concerned for herself as for Susie. With the child so close, it would be impossible for Lilian to discuss Mike further, or probe Peggy’s relations with Mike. What would happen if Lilian ever discovered that Mike had doped Peggy and abused her on a night as dark as this one—and, worse, had made Peggy like it?

“It’s more important that Susie get some sleep than that vague rules be observed,” Peggy said. “Go ahead, Susie. Spread your blankets and stretch out.”

“Peggy, you’re absolutely right,” Lilian said, smiling, and strolled off to her own bedroll.

But little Susie was not satisfied. About to fall asleep again, Peggy felt the girl stir, then crawl right in under Peggy’s covers. The compact young form snuggled right up close to Peggy’s body and contentedly sighed.

Peggy smiled in the dark, and kissed Susie’s sweet-smelling blond tresses.

An emotion of peace and profound happiness stole over Peggy. How wonderful thus to be needed and trusted by a child. Of all the gifts, Peggy thought at that moment, the greatest was to be a mother.

Peggy frowned.

Were lesbians ever mothers?

* * * * *

The next time Peggy woke, the sun was peeping over a far hill. Birds were calling to the campers from the trees.

One by one the girls opened their eyes, rubbed at them, and sat up, still huddling under their covers, hiding from the early-morning chill. Several campers were surprised to note Susie peeking out from Peggy’s blankets.

Within half an hour everyone was up, dressed, and busy at assigned tasks: tying up bedrolls, collecting firewood, clearing the fire circle, setting out dishes, and preparing breakfast.

Campers and counselors were wolfing down hot chocolate when the camp station wagon pulled up. The door swung open and Pam Michaels, Mike’s older sister, slid out.

Pam was a slight girl—not much over five feet, and very small-boned. Despite her frail appearance, she had Mike’s red hair, freckled complexion and other characteristics. She strode over to the campers with the gait of a master sergeant.

“Hi, gang,” she said in her surprisingly husky voice.

The young campers chorused answering greetings as the assistant director joined Peggy and Lilian. Lilian walked to the fire, poured herself some more chocolate.

“Hiya,” Pam said. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” Lilian said. “But we still have the long walk home.”

“Looks like you’ll have a nice day for it,” Pam said. “Radio says it won’t get too hot.” She turned toward the girls. “Let’s get a move on,” she called. “Where are the bedrollers?”

Three campers set down their plates and went with Pam to load the bedding into the wagon. When they had finished, Pam rejoined the group.

“Too bad you aren’t ready,” she said, grinning. “I could drive you all back.”

“Oh ... you say that every time, Miss Pam,” one of the children groaned. “Some day maybe we’ll fool you.”

Pam grinned and tousled the youngster’s hair. She helped herself to a cup of hot chocolate.

Chickie Jones, an oversized eleven-year-old who was the star athlete of the Intermediate group, pushed up to Pam. “I don’t see why Susie should get special privileges, Miss Pam. I’ve been at camp four summers. And I’m not afraid of the dark, so why—”

“What’s this?” Pam snapped. “Special privileges?”

“That’s right, Miss Pam,” chorused a number of girls. And one of them shouted, “Susie slept with Miss Peggy all night!”

Peggy did not feel called upon to make excuses. In fact, she laughed. But not before she had noticed the glance exchanged between Pam and Lilian. Then both girls turned their gazes on Peggy.

“Actually,” Lilian said, “the child slept next to Peggy, not with her.”

“Oh, no,” Peggy said. “She crept into my bedroll. We slept together, all right, but I don’t see what’s such a special privilege about that!”

“Don’t you?” Pam’s gray-eyed stare was boring holes in Peggy. She knew there would be no further discussion in front of the campers. But that glare of Pam’s promised a session about the matter at the next counselors’ meeting. Pam turned away, was suddenly all smiles as she faced the campers. “Forget it, kids. It won’t happen again.” She finished her chocolate and strode toward the station wagon, calling huskily, “See you at camp.” She left amid calls to “Take us with you,” and “We want to ride, too!”

When Pam had gone, Susie walked over and sat down next to Peggy.

“You know,” Susie said gravely, “I think I liked Miss Pam better when she was just a counselor. She used to be lots of fun.”

“Mean to say you were at camp before?”

“Sure. But I was too young for overnight hikes.” Susie paused. “I guess Miss Pam is still kinda nice.” Then in the same breath she said, “Isn’t Miss Lilian beautiful?”

Peggy glanced toward Lilian who now was standing near the glowing coals. She was wearing pencil-slim red slacks and a matching cardigan over a white blouse. Her black hair was held together with a rubber band at the back of her head and fell in a single long curl down her back.

She certainly did not look as though she had spent the last twenty-four hours outdoors, Peggy mused. Yet as handsome as she appeared, there was an artificiality about her get-up that struck a jarring note amid the natural beauty of the surroundings.

But to Susie, who was patiently waiting for an answer, Peggy said, “Oh, yes. Lilian is quite beautiful, Susie.”

“You know,” the girl confided, “I didn’t like her very much at first. But after you get to know her, she’s not so bad. Especially if she likes you.”

“Hey, Susie,” one of the other campers yelled. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

* * * * *

The little blonde flashed a smile at Peggy and ran off, all flying legs and streaming hair.

Back at camp, Peggy supervised while the girls scoured the cooking utensils in the large metal sink. They washed and rinsed and dried until they were given permission for a quick dip before dinner. Peggy gladly hurried them off to their cabins to change into their suits, then headed for the lounge where she sank into a straw-backed chair. She could not remember when she had been so exhausted. If only she could sit there and nap, she thought. She closed her eyes dreamily, but opened them when she heard footfalls. She saw Mike walk through the doorway and fish a coke out of the cooler.

Peggy flushed at the sight of the redhead, wondered what to say—how to say it. Dozens of remarks spun around her brain.

Mike held up the frosty bottle. “Want one?” she asked.

“Please,” Peggy answered, glad for the ice-breaker.

Mike reached for another bottle, then sauntered across the room to hand it to Peggy.

“How was your night?”

“Not bad,” Peggy said. “I enjoyed it. I think the kids did, too.”

Mike took a swig of soda. “By the way, a bit of news,” she said. “Your Ted called. I told him you weren’t here, but I don’t think he believed me.”

“Next time he calls,” Peggy said, “tell him I went to Patagonia.”

Mike frowned. “You mean that, Peg?” In her huskiest tone, she added, “He doesn’t seem so bad. I talked to him a while. I thought he sounded like a lot of fun.”

“Like a gorilla,” Peggy said. “Patagonia,” she repeated, tilting up her bottle. “Tell him I went there.”

“Whatever you say.”

Peggy glanced around the room. Counselors were drifting in for sodas and cigarettes before the evening meal. Some were still dressed in their swim-duty bathing suits, their bare limbs glistening.

Peggy glanced at her own legs stretched gracefully in front of her. The days of sun had turned them a tawny gold. She looked up and caught Mike’s eyes traveling down her thighs, too. Quickly, the redhead looked away. She thrust her bottle among the empties, then walked out of the lounge.

Peggy sat quietly, unthinkingly sipping her coke and staring at the pine trees outside the windows. A squirrel, halfway up a nearby oak, stared back. Peggy winked. The thing scampered out of sight.

Peggy sighed, rose, walked out of the lounge. She had suddenly become restless. Just outside the lodge she ran into Beth.

“Going swimming?” Peggy asked, noting the nurse’s suit.

“For a few minutes. Join me?”

Peggy’s eyes skimmed over Beth’s lightly clad body. The pale knit swimsuit showed off her curves to perfection, while its high neck and wide straps hid much of her nakedness. This was not the orange suit. It was of a light-blue material that clung to her well-rounded body, caressing it, molding her fully blossomed breasts and flowing hip line.

Peggy’s eyes darted to Beth’s face. “I’d love to,” she said in answer to the nurse’s question, “but I’m just too damned tired. Hiked eight miles today, you know.”

Beth smiled. “Rest yourself, then. And remember, whenever you feel like it, drop by at the Pillbox.”

Did Beth mean that or was she just being polite? Peggy hesitated. “Okay,” she blurted. “Maybe tonight.”

EIGHT

Peggy went to the Pillbox that night, talked for an hour or so, drank coffee. And she went often after that. She tried not to wear out the invitation, but found herself drawn more and more to the cozy room and sympathetic nurse.

She was able to face both Mike and Lilian unashamedly now, although she found little time to be friendly with the redhead, and Lilian, it seemed to Peggy, was being rather distant. Other than that camp life progressed normally.

Pam had not raised the issue of “special privileges” at a counselors’ meeting, but instead had spoken to Peggy in the privacy of the camp office. A counselor, Pam had said, had to be careful about giving the kids any idea that she was playing favorites. Peggy had agreed, had explained the circumstances, had promised to handle such situations, should they occur, in a different way. That had been the end of that.

Peggy knew perfectly well that horror was looking over her shoulder, that behind the facade of wholesome camp activity lurked abominations too dark and terrible to be named. She knew that there were at least two lesbians—her precious Beth, and probably Mike—in the camp. She had a strong feeling that about herself, Lilian suspected the worst. The very word “lesbian” was almost totally new to Peggy’s lexicon, had the power to make her shudder, to make her ill. The most awful thing of all was that these creatures were abroad in a camp for children, girl children. Lesbianism in such a setting should be at once exposed, torn out by the roots.

Yet there was no absolute proof Mike was a lesbian. As for Beth, thought Peggy, it was as plain as the nose on your face that she was the most marvelous of women. Far from damaging others, she helped them night and day—and especially, she helped Peggy. She took the alarm and the worry out of Peggy. She opened Peggy’s eyes to dawns, horizons, worlds beyond worlds, all by sitting with her sometimes, talking, sharing music over the radio, exchanging smiles and glances. In short, Beth was a friend.