Crystal, Installment 4

It was the first of many visits. Tommy had heard of the concept of old-fashioned courting, but to see it in practice was a revelation. The redhead’s single-mindedness and patience was awe-inspiring.
“What do you see in her, Sis?” Tom had asked after that first visit. Refusing Janet’s offer to walk her home, she had waved farewell to the two sisters who had stood on the steps to see her off, and headed home in the twilight. “She’s a kid, she’s younger than me, even! Jeeze, she’s younger than your own daughter!”
“She’s a friend, Tom, and she has lots of good qualities. I’m fond of her, and she likes me—look, she brought me flowers! I can’t remember you bringing me flowers, now. What am I to do: forbid her from seeing me?”
“You don’t really expect flowers from me, Sis, be serious!”
“I don’t expect flowers from anybody. But she likes me, Tom, and … everyone wants to be loved and appreciated. Why should I be different?”
Tom was persistent. “You just want to jump her bones. One of these days, it’ll be: Crystal, let’s go see a movie, and you’ll be off to a motel in St Paul, and be back in the wee hours, with a grin from ear to ear!”
Janet was very annoyed with Tom’s salacious remarks.
“All we need to do is go upstairs, Tom; I’ve got my own room, after all.”
“In the house? That’s disgusting!”
Janet stared at her, exasperated. “Listen to yourself! Where’s the logic? How come sex all night long is okay for you, but if I just bring up the possibility of inviting a young woman into the privacy of my own room, it’s disgusting? ” Janet had said it in a quiet tone, and with a smile on her lips, but Tommy winced. Janet gave her two seconds for a riposte that never came. Then she unhurriedly went up to her room and shut the door, and shuddered with controlled fury.
It didn’t take long for her to realize that Tom was reacting more from fear of her own reputation being compromised than out of any particular feeling about the appropriateness of sex between Janet and anybody. Circumstances had led the lifestyle of the Ferguson household to be sexually very liberal, but responsible and considerate (except in the case of Elly, which few of the residents were aware of). There was nothing in Tom’s experience, that Janet could think of, that could have resulted in such a censorious outburst.
Crystal had a wide range of moods. Some days she clearly preferred to walk with Janet. They walked up and down the 5-mile drive, and even summoned the courage to walk to town and sit down for a cup of tea at Crystal’s favorite table. Janet introduced Crystal to anyone who seemed interested as a good friend from Philadelphia. Crystal gradually became moderately relaxed during such an introduction, though the first couple of times she had to fight hard to keep her composure. During these private walks, their conversations ranged from philosophical, to quite intimate.
Other days, she was content to sit and chat with Janet and whoever else might have been around, Tom and sometimes Cindy. She was a forgiving girl, and she never seemed to hold a grudge at the petty remarks Tommy made occasionally, intended to put her down. Tommy remarked on her choice of major, her attitude towards countless subjects, her ignorance about music and the arts with barely disguised disparagement. Crystal’s reactions ranged from honest self-deprecation to mild indignation to puzzlement. For instance, Tom criticized Crystal’s partiality for dime-store romances. Crystal had become a member of the Ferguson Library, and often came up the hill with a bagful of romances. Tom never lost an opportunity to ridicule her choices.
“The Song of the Nightingale,” chortled Tom, one night. “I can just imagine how it goes … ‘Susan felt the sultry night air through her thin nightgown …’”
Crystal had giggled and said, “I like that stuff!”
“But what good is it? Have you read Pride & Prejudice?”
“Is it like War & Peace?” Crystal had asked innocently. The discussion had rapidly gone downhill from that point. Janet knew better than to join the fray, and she invariably felt, at the end of it, that not only did she love young Crystal more than she did before, but that Crystal could find a place in her circle. She had the same resilient patience that Cindy had in such great measure, but also the vigor and freshness of her youth. All the young people in their family circle were so thoroughly indoctrinated with great art, great music and great literature, that Tom seemed unfit for associating with people in the outside world without reflexively taking a patronizing position. She was becoming a hardened elitist, a trap into which the Nordstrom girls seemed not to have fallen. (Elly, too, seemed to have gotten over that awkward phase.) Crystal was a good foil for that inflexible streak in Tom.
In contrast, Crystal was willing to consider some of the books Tom suggested, such as the Jane Austen novels. “Is Pride & Prejudice any good?” she asked Janet in confidence.
“It’s a wonderful book,” Janet said seriously. “You must become comfortable with the manners and attitudes of those times, though.”
“What times were they?”
“Oh, er, early-to-mid nineteenth-century,” Janet said, hoping she was right.
“Around the Civil War, kind of?”
“Well, ye-es,” Janet said. “But you have to remember, America was very different from England in those days, you know. Not too different, but just different enough that you’ll have to get comfortable with the period.”
“I could cheat, and watch the movie!” she laughed. Crystal had a sense of humor, though Tom couldn’t see it. Their humor often went past each other, but to Janet’s surprise and —admittedly her mild discomfort, too— neither girl gave up on working at the other.

Cindy and Crystal hit it off well with each other from the start. They had much in common, interest- and temperament-wise, as well as in the way they were subject to Tom’s merciless critical scrutiny. (It was remarkable that Tom responded more to Crystal’s thinking than she did to Cindy’s.)

One day, Crystal sat down with Agnes, and said, “Miss Agnes, I told you a lie. Several lies.”
Agnes looked at her over the dinner table, startled. There was a look of stubborn determination mixed with a good deal of contrition on Crystal’s soft face. The hardness in it that had resulted from her week of walking and hardship was mostly gone, and the natural freshness of her complexion, and the soft curves of her features were mostly back, but not quite.
What had she lied about? A thousand thoughts flashed through Agnes’s mind, and were rejected.
“All right, let’s have it,” Agnes said, as calmly as she could. She had gradually come to understand and appreciate her youthful companion, and had been congratulating herself that the young lady in question had so little idea of her value to her. Certainly, Agnes gave her full measure for what she received in return from the girl: three hundred dollars in rent per month. And a host of errands run, and cleaning on the weekends, and cheerful participation —for the most part— in Agnes’s outside activities, such as church, gardening, and yard-sale shopping on Saturday. She fed the girl as many meals as she would eat, and gave her the benefit of her motherly advice, which was certainly worth something. Still, a girl like her was a prize. Had been one, anyway.
“I wasn’t married, and … I wasn’t turned out of home.”
“And?”
“It was all a lie, Agnes … I ran away from home. I just had to tell you. You’ve been so … straight with me, and …” She looked at Agnes with eyes that were full of remorse. But those eyes also said: you weren’t harmed by the lies, were you? There’s not a lot to forgive, really. This is a matter of my own conscience! “You have a right to know the truth. If my dad comes looking, you could be in trouble for—I don’t know—harboring a fugitive, or something.”
That was just too much for Agnes. She burst out laughing, tears pouring down her face. Crystal looked at her in some alarm, until she understood where the amusement was coming from. Between wiping her eyes, Agnes expressed her sincere doubts that a girl of Crystal’s age running away from home would be a fugitive, exactly.
Agnes looked sternly at Crystal, across the table, and then smiled.
“Why don’t you tell me the whole story, Chrissy? You owe me a good story, at least.”
Crystal took a deep breath and began. There wasn’t a lot to tell. She had led an easy, responsibility-free childhood, and her tastes had been simple, she had no talents, and she had absolutely no ambition. Her parents had been thoroughly disappointed in her, notwithstanding her high SAT’s; she had no interest in science, law, or any kind of profession. So they’d sent her to the University of Pennsylvania, and got her started in a career in elementary education.
At this point Agnes’s eyes widened. She could hardly believe the young woman in front of her had completed a year at Penn. Crystal assured her that this was indeed the case. But she added that she had hated every minute of it, and had looked forward to finishing the year, and never going back.
Then she had met this most wonderful person at a bar. Crystal blushed; she hardly ever drank, she said, and she hadn’t even that fateful night, but she had brought someone home with her, and it had been love at first sight. Crystal had discovered that her angel was in fact the principal of a certain school in Minnesota, and she described how she had left everything behind, determined to start a new life, on her own, to prove her worthiness of her new love.
“Now, Chrissy, which school are we talking about?”
“Ferguson school!”
“Ferguson? Ferguson? But the principal of Ferguson is Mrs Janet Kolb!”
Crystal’s face lit up at the name. “You know her!” she sighed. “Yes, she’s the one!” She blushed with pleasure, a second before it hit her that Agnes might not have as liberal a view of her choice of love-object as she might have wished.
“Crystal … are you in love with—a woman?”
Crystal nodded slowly, her eyes wide with worry. It hadn’t crossed her mind that this might be a bigger issue than the lies she had told Agnes.
“Don’t you like boys, Crystal? Did …” she bent forward and spoke in a low voice, “… did your father—do anything … bad to you, when you were a little girl?”
“My dad? N-no, he was fine; well, just the college thing. He’s a little pushy, but otherwise he’s okay. I don’t hate him, or anything, Agnes, I just couldn’t deal with all the pressure!”
Agnes waved that aside. She was going somewhere else entirely, and she struggled to make her point.
“Have you been out with boys at all?”
“Well, yes; oh, I see what you mean. Agnes, … I find it hard to relate to boys, you know? I just don’t want to have sex with boys. It was always the girls that I wanted to …” She blushed bright red. It struck her that Agnes might be frightened if she began to think that she was harboring someone in her own home who might threaten her person sexually. She dropped her eyes carefully. “I’m not an aggressive person, Agnes; I … I’m pretty much a one-woman girl, you know? One at a time. Oh, this is coming out all wrong!”
Agnes was saved by her irrepressible sense of humor.
“Oh Crystal, I have to tell you something.”
“Yes, Miss Agnes.”
“You can leave off the ‘Miss Agnes’ bit. You always do that when you want me to feel sorry for you. Don’t do it; it isn’t necessary.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Well, … I was hoping to have you meet my son, Crystal; he’s a little older, around forty, and … he’s never married, and I thought, why, here’s a sweet young girl, and there’s Andrew, my son, …” she shook her head, and looked up at Crystal. She threw up her hands in a gesture that she had hardly ever used before. But nothing else could express how she felt.
Crystal let out a long sigh. “I … I hadn’t thought of all the angles before I started talking, Agnes; I wasn’t planning to … come out to you. I’m not ready to tell everyone that I’m in love with a woman. All I know is—suddenly, I want to go back to college, to … oh god, what a fool I am!”
“What?”
“I can just go back to school in the Fall!”
“Well, of course! You’re not on suspension, or something dreadful like that, are you?”
“Oh no, I thought I did fairly well. There was this —young lady— who helped me a whole lot.”
“There you are, then, you go straight back to college! I shall miss you, Chrissy! You’ve only been here a few weeks and …”
“I’d like to stay the rest of the summer, Agnes, if you don’t mind!”
“Of course I don’t! So what will you do?”
“I’d like to have Janet over, to visit. I visit there, now and then, and …”
“Do you? And what does her family think?”
“Well, there’s a sister —who argues with me a good bit; I don’t guess she thinks much of me at all— and a sort of a friend and housekeeper, a Sr. Cathleen, whom I like very much. Everyone else is gone for the summer. Janet has a daughter out in Philadelphia, whom I haven’t met yet. And there’s her mother, who’s gone to Illinois, to check on their house out there.”
“So that’s the reason for your sudden interest in getting a college education.”
“Yes, exactly. I have to meet her at her level, Agnes. I can’t just be a housewife, or I’ll end up being a servant. I don’t mind being a stay-at-home wife; I wanted to be one, until I met her. She’s changed my whole life, without meaning to, though.”
Agnes nodded, studying her. It went against everything that Agnes considered normal, and against everything that she had imagined for the healthy, wholesome, utterly normal-seeming Crystal. She had imagined a happy home with a handsome, doting husband —preferably her own Andrew— and a bunch of bonny babies in perfect little sailor suits. But no, the girl was in love with Janet Kolb, of all people.
Agnes had the greatest respect for Janet Kolb. After that strange Helen Nordstrom had left, throwing the quiet school community into such confusion, Janet had brought a welcome period of sanity to the place. There had never been the slightest hint of scandal attached to her, except that she had been widowed before her daughter was born. Well, he had been called up for the war, and had died out there, and the child had been born after he had been dead some weeks.
There had been a rumor that Janet Kolb had a romantic relationship with Helen Nordstrom, and god knew she had romantic relationships with nearly every woman in the country. But in the end, there was nothing anyone could make of such stories. All that could be said was that the Nordstrom children had lived with the Kolbs for a while.
“Are you very upset?”
Agnes got up, and briskly put away the remains of the meal. “No, not very, dear; though, if you’re planning to go back to school, I’d write and tell your father that. Then he can rant and rave and threaten not to pay your fees, and we’d have to start saving.”
“Oops!”
Agnes shrugged. “It’s a strange thing, being a parent, you know.” She brought out a lovely apple pie she had bought from the store as a surprise for Crystal. Crystal’s eyes widened, and the tip of her tongue slid across her cute mouth, bringing a smile to Agnes’s lips. “You like something back from your kids for all the money you lavish on them. I know.”
“Uh huh,” said Crystal, her intonation curling up as if it were a question.
“But in the end, he probably loves you, you know, and he probably misses you. And he’ll kill you, as soon as he learns you’re … oh God, I can’t even say it! What kind of a world is this, with girls falling in love with women, men falling in love with men … I just don’t understand it!”
“Do you have to put that in a regular oven, or can you microwave it?”
“What? Oh, the pie.”
“Uh … I kind of missed what you said,” said Crystal, looking blank.

Agnes shook her head.

K

Crystal, Installment 3

It was Janet’s first week after school was out. Erin (the daughter of Janet's old friend Helen, who stayed with Janet and attended Ferguson School) had had just been seen off home to Philadelphia, and Janet's half-sister Tommy was home, getting ready to leave for Illinois with Mom. Cindy, an unmarried friend who lived with Janet and her mother, had headed out to St Paul to visit; Janet was bored and just beginning to allow her mind to wander, recalling the recent adventure in Philadelphia. The two girls she had met there had been very much on her mind the last several weeks, especially since her half-sister had arrived home. Tommy, with her edgy personality and her tomboy appearance reminded her of Vicky. But ironically, her thoughts often went to the gentle, luscious redhead virgin she had loved that wonderful night. It was as if she had kept a part of Janet with her.
Janet had decided to shop for groceries out at the big supermarket in the town over the way. She had hardly begun, when one of the supermarket employees turned round—it was Crystal. She looked thinner, older, and some of the incredible freshness had gone, but it was unmistakably Crystal. Janet simply stared at her, as the girl went white, and then red.
“Crystal? Is it you?” she had gasped, her voice hoarse. And in her chest, a hand seemed to squeeze her heart, and her pulse raced.
Crystal quickly turned back to the shelf, and gripped it, to steady herself.
“Crystal …” Janet stretched out an arm to touch her. She was real, she was warm and perfect, the way she had always been!
Crystal turned and slowly walked out of the store. She said something to the girl at the office counter, who stared at them both and shrugged. Janet followed, leaving her cart in the store, determined not to lose Crystal.

She was leaning against the side of the building, round the corner, out of sight of the entrance, her face covered with her hands, her breathing ragged.
“I wanted to come round and tell you,” she said to Janet, “I didn’t want it to happen this way!”
“What to happen, what way? Crystal, what are you doing here?”
“Doing? I work here, Janet, I have a job! I’m not a bum, you know!”
“Yes, but … why here? What … Crystal, have you come looking for me?”
Crystal nodded, her face a mask of anguished embarrassment. The incredible cornflower-blue eyes were brimming with tears, but she did not cry. She was hardly breathing; she was waiting to see what Janet would say.
“What about your parents? Do they know you’re here?” Crystal shook her head. “You’ve run away from home?” Nod. “To come looking for me?” Another nod. “You’ve dropped out of school?” She shook her head, at first, but then nodded.
“Oh Crystal!” Janet exclaimed, her eyes and her voice full of emotion. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know … about five weeks, I guess.”
“Where do you live?”
“With a little old lady, here in town. Oh Janet, please don’t make me go back!”
“But … but … I think of your parents, and … I feel terrible! I imagine if my own daughter had to leave home, I’d be heartbroken! I … I am heartbroken … she has left home,” her eyes filled with tears, and she gave Crystal a sad smile. “I couldn’t wish that on anyone, dear girl … Oh Crystal, what a sad gift you have given me!”
And she was in Janet’s arms, weeping her heart out. She had not wanted to cause anyone any pain; she had only wanted to be happy.

After Crystal had gotten a little calmer, Janet had persuaded the young woman to go into the store with her, and ask for an hour’s break for an early lunch. “Tell them you’ll put in an extra hour to make up for it,” Janet urged, “and I’ll keep you company!”
The manager had squinted at Crystal suspiciously, but had okayed the plan. Then Janet and she had gone out to Janet’s minivan and sat in the back seat, close together, and Janet had told her how much she had missed her, and how fond she was of Crystal.
“But what can we do, darling? You have to go back to college, otherwise you’ll be a grocery store worker all your life, and you’ll regret not having all the things you enjoy—clothes, cars, a handsome husband, beautiful children, good schools for them—and you’ll think of Janet and shake your head and say: she stole my heart, and I left college to come be with her, and this is what I have become, a working woman, with no time for anything!”
Crystal drew herself up.
“I don’t mind working hard, Janet; it’s not for money that I’m thinking of going back to college. It’s for … another reason.”
“And what’s that?”
“I … I can’t tell you,” stammered Crystal.

Janet’s face wreathed in smiles, as she reached out a hand to touch Crystal’s arm. “Just look at you! I just can’t believe you’re seated here, in St Paul … talking to me, come looking for me! I can’t believe that— anyone would do something so crazy! And all I can say is … you’ve made me feel so special, Crystal, and for that I will love you forever!”
“Janet,” the girl said, suddenly grave. “On Easter Sunday, I knew what I wanted with my life. I want to live with you, an equal partner. I want to wake up every day, to see you, Janet, right there. I want to tell my kids, Janet is your mother! I have thought about this for a long time, and … I want you to know. That’s why I came here, Janet. Don’t say ‘no’ right away; think about it. I’m here, giving you plenty of space … you can go home to Ferguson, knowing that I’m close, but not too close… wanting you, waiting for you.” Her voice petered out, and Janet felt the tears surging up to her eyes. Crystal’s utter confidence in the way she felt was heart-rending. Janet lusted after the sweet young thing, felt tenderness for her. But Janet had nothing like the girl’s serene confidence that Janet and she were meant to be together. It was rather frightening. But now, as she drew close to the age of fifty, and her youth was turning to middle age, the knowledge that this lovely young woman desired her so much—it was irresistible.
“Do your parents know where you are?”
Crystal hung her head. She shook it, no. “I have to write,” she said. “I’m afraid they’ll trace me that way.”
“Write a letter; let’s send it to Philly, and my friend there can mail it. Nobody will know where you are.”
“Is your friend Helen Nordstrom?” Crystal asked, looking at Janet with her head cocked.
“Yes; how did you know?”
“The girl at the Inn told me,” Crystal blushed. “That you knew Helen Nordstrom well, that’s all.”
“Yes.” Janet studied Crystal’s face, noting the faint signs of jealousy. It made Janet hot. “I love her, Crystal. You have to accept that. Nothing you can do will change that!”
“I’ll make you forget her,” Crystal promised, with easy confidence.
Janet pulled out a pad and a pen.
“Write to your parents,” she insisted. “I’ll send it out to Philly. Or better, I’ll send it out to Illinois, with my mother.”

Crystal wrote a note to her father. She said she was safe, she had a job, and she was comfortable and safe. She was with good people, who cared for her and watched out for her safety. She would stay in touch, writing once a month if possible.
Janet watched her write, a feminine, decorative hand that was all of a piece with the career aspirations her family had for her. They had made the best of her apparent lack of direction, and taken the easy way out: make her an elementary teacher. Janet could hardly believe what she had done; evaded her family for a month, found work in an unfamiliar town, close to Janet. She looked less the princess now, more a lovely young woman. She was of a type Janet had admired with a certain amount of detachment, the spoiled child of affluent parents, with the easy beauty typical of women of that class, the kind who would win beauty contests if they deigned to participate. A trophy bride fit for a senator. She was a blank page, waiting to be written on, except that she had given herself to a very unlikely author indeed. When Janet had firmly turned her down, she had proceeded to take matters into her own hands. She was still a blank page, but a very determined one, who wanted to control very much what was written on her.

Janet longed to touch her. When Crystal was done, Janet took the folded paper from her hands, and their fingers touched. Crystal’s face colored, showing that she was as tuned-in to their closeness and the touch as was Janet.
Janet quizzed her closely about how she had come here, where she lived, and the story made her head spin. It was not a great adventure, but relative to the life the girl had left behind, it was incredibly daring. And her desire for Janet, her determination burned white hot through the entire narrative. She held back nothing. Now that the game was up, she told Janet all.
“By the end of the summer, I’ll be eighteen,” she said, “and Dad can’t force me to do anything!”
Janet sighed, looking at her thoughtfully. “You think of me as some fairy godmother, girl, but—what can I do to make you happy? I … my house is large enough, but if you move in with me—it’ll be a scandal. How can I defend myself, if I move in with a girl as young as some of my students? I’m not completely out, here in Ferguson, you know. If I were to …”
“No, Janet,” she said, firmly putting her hand on Janet’s. Janet covered it with her own, closing her eyes with the pleasure of it. “I’ll stay here, with Miss Agnes, … I’m not expecting to be rescued, or something.” Belatedly Crystal realized that, subconsciously, she had been. But now she understood the power of her position. Nobody could send her anywhere. “Maybe, I could come see you, once in a while, go out … something like that?” What did women do, when they were courting? Did it have to be under cover of night, in smoky bars?
Janet began to understand the situation very slowly. Crystal was asking permission to court her, and to be courted. Where she had got the notion, Janet didn’t know, but she wanted to proceed slowly and deliberately, to make their relationship as cautiously and firmly built on the outside as any relationship between a man and a woman.
“All right,” Janet said, “I suppose I can handle that.”

And so it happened that the next Saturday, Tomasina Krebs (Janet’s half-sister, who lived with her) was surprised to answer a knock on the door, and find a young woman on the doorstep, a startlingly beautiful redhead with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, holding a bunch of flowers.
“Is—is Miss Janet at home?”
“Janet who?”
“Janet Kolb?”
“Oh. Please come in, I’ll see whether she’s expecting you. What’s your name, please?”
“Crystal Baxter. Thank you.”
The moment Tommy had seen her, she had suspected what was up. “Sis,” she said, “there’s a Crystal Baxter to see you. She’s brought flowers, too!”
Janet had been reading, and she got up at once. “Tom, I want you to be nice to her,” she said, blushing faintly. She headed down the stairs.
“Who is she?” demanded Tommy.
“A friend of mine,” her sister answered.
“A student? Where did you meet her?”
“Hush! Be quiet. Don’t go embarrassing her, now.”
Tom watched, fascinated, as her sister went forward to greet the girl at the entrance. The girl blushed prettily, and held out the flowers to Janet, saying something Tom couldn’t hear, and glancing at Tommy a little uncertainly, hoping, no doubt, that Tom would disappear. Jan took the flowers with an exclamation of pleasure. They were lovely, roses and carnations, all colors. Tommy hurried off before she could be pressed into putting them in water, and went to look for anyone else in the house she could tell.
Crystal looked about, taking in the grand old house, and the spacious additions that were in a contrasting but harmonious style. It was beautiful, graciously furnished and decorated, a house in which Crystal could feel comfortable. For sheer size it beat Crystal’s family home by a small margin, but for elegance, a new house such as the Baxters lived in could never compete with the warm wood paneling, the timbered ceilings, and the wonderful, heavy carved doors.
“This is a lovely house,” Crystal said, appreciatively. Janet had led her into an informal sitting room and made her comfortable, and returned with a beautiful vase full of water. “The girl who let me in, is she your daughter?”
“That’s my half-sister,” Janet said, smiling. “She’s also Helen’s half-sister; it’s a weird set of circumstances, but … she does look a lot like Helen, tall and fair!”
“Uh huh, she sure does,” Crystal agreed. “She seems nice,” she added, politely.
Janet laughed, amused. Crystal blushed. “She is,” Janet said, as she arranged the flowers. “She was the sweetest child. Recently, though, she’s become a little—defiant, I guess is the word. Oh, it’s a long story. Goodness, I don’t think I can do justice to these flowers, Crystal.”
Crystal stood up, and realized that they would need two vases. She offered to help, if Janet would bring a knife and a second vase. “Come, let’s go into the kitchen,” Janet suggested, and they picked up everything and headed out to the kitchen.

Together they arranged the flowers, talking about inconsequentials, taking simple pleasure in each other’s company. A couple of times, Tom came in to take something from the refrigerator, and Crystal smiled sweetly at her. The second time, she got a brief smile from the girl, and a blush. The girl had strikingly good looks, like a statue. She disappeared for a while, and came back on some other pretext, and Crystal noticed that she had put on just a little makeup, a little something on her eyelashes, and just a touch of color on her cheeks. She had also pulled her skirt a fraction of an inch higher on her waist, the better to show off her legs. She lounged about the kitchen, and Janet put her to work, making them a pot of tea.
“Crystal, I’d like you to meet Tomasina Krebs, my sister!”
“Hi!” said Tom, smiling.
“Tom, this is Crystal Baxter, whom I met in Philadelphia.”
“Hi,” said Crystal, holding out her hand, “pleased to meet you!”
Crystal felt the cool, dry grip of the girl, and the firmness yet gentleness of the shake, and was intrigued by her. There was something troubling about those clear grey eyes. Or was it more troubled than troubling?
“So, how was Philadelphia?” asked Tom casually. “I have friends there!”
“Oh, fine, I guess; I went to college there. I live—close by,” and she told Tom where she lived.
“Oh,” said Tom, “I used to work at the supermarket there, a couple of years ago.”
“Oh? That’s where I work now!”
Tom grinned. “Oh yeah? Is Wallace there still? And Chuckles?”
“Yes, they are!” laughed Crystal. “They’re funny!”

Janet watched the interaction between the girls with a strange feeling of resentment. She smiled, allowing herself to be amused, but she looked carefully at her sister, trying to discern any attempt to get closer to Crystal than she should. She had never felt a competitor against Tom. Tom was just all wrong, as far as Janet was concerned. She was beautiful, and all wrong. And not so beautiful either, if it came to that. She was just striking, cold, fair, aloof and calculating.
Tom had prissied herself up for Crystal’s benefit, the shameless hussy, Janet observed to herself. Now she sat, with her leg tucked under her, showing off miles and miles of thigh. Only years of practice as a school principal helped Janet keep the neutral smile on her face.
Crystal had turned back to the flowers. Slowly and carefully she had sliced off the ends, and now with unhurried sureness she was arranging them in two vases. They were artlessly lovely, the kind of look that one could never get with calculated precision.
“There,” said Crystal, cocking her head to one side then to the other, cautiously endorsing her own work. “I think that works, don’t you?”
Tom pretended to inspect the flowers, and gave her approval.
“Well,” said Crystal, turning graciously to Tom and smiling, “it was nice to meet you, Tomasina!”
It was a dismissal if Janet had ever heard one, and she could barely suppress her grin of satisfaction.
“Call me Tom,” said that young lady, coolly.
Crystal giggled. “Oh, I couldn’t!” Janet had to put her tongue firmly in her mouth. Tom looked at Janet, and Jan raised an eyebrow.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” said Tommy, and left.

“She’s kind of interesting,” said Crystal softly, as they walked back.
“She certainly is,” agreed Janet.
She felt suddenly awkward. Crystal’s trademark perfume was befuddling her, and her smile said too much to ignore. Say something, anything, her smile said, I just want to hear you talk, to watch you, to be close here for as long as I can! She wanted to fill herself with as much of Janet as she could, to last her for the next few days.
“Would you like to walk round the garden, maybe, and talk for a little while?”
“That would be lovely,” said Crystal, her smile almost a kiss.

K

More Crystal below!

[Since nobody seems to be reading this, I just added the next installment at the bottom of the first! So now you have the Prologue, and two chapters.

I love Crystal, so do be kind to her!

K]

Crystal, Installments 1 & 2

[This is an excerpt from a long novel (1,300,000 words), which I'm never going to publish. I was reading it the last few days, and there are a few parts of it that are just too cute to give up, so here's one. Crystal is one of the less complicated characters in it; a very minor one. Janet is a major character, and Helen, as you can guess, is the central character.]


Prologue
Crystal had called Janet three times already, and her calls had all been answered politely by different voices, all telling her that Janet had gone out. The third voice was a young one, she guessed a high-school or college kid, who had tried to find out who Crystal was. It’s her daughter, Crystal told herself, and replying briefly, had quickly hung up.
She was surprised to get a call from Vicky. After some awkward verbal fencing, she had agreed to let Vicky come see her.  (Vicky was a professional escort whom Janet had hired earlier that weekend.)
She let Vicky in, and said, “I don’t have any money, Vicky.”
Vicky rolled her eyes. She wore a pretty spring dress that left her legs bare, with no bra. Crystal was envious; she never risked going without a bra herself; her own breasts were a lot fuller. Vicky sat on a chair and crossed her legs.
“Would you like to see Janet getting on the plane?”

Easter Break was coming to a close, and Crystal’s life had been completely shaken up and stood on its head. Just on Good Friday, of all days, Crystal had been persuaded to go to an all-women’s singles bar in a Philadelphia suburb, and met the most wonderful woman. Expecting to meet someone horrible and pushy, instead she had met Janet. They had left the bar and gone to a quiet restaurant, and spent a long time talking. Everything about Janet said quality, and Crystal just knew that if she were to look for a hundred years, she would never find a woman she could admire more.

They had spent the night together, but when Crystal dropped Janet off at a deserted parking-lot, it was clear that Janet had had second thoughts about how she had spent the evening. Anyway, Janet had not refused the folded piece of notepaper on which Crystal had carefully written her name, address and phone number.

A few days later, Janet had called her from somewhere in New Jersey. She was in a car with another girl, Vicky, and they wanted to get together. It was obviously not Janet’s idea, but this Vicky seemed to be a wild one, and had wormed the story of Janet’s date out of her, and now wanted to meet the young co-ed. Normally Crystal would have had nothing to do with the plan, but desperate to see Janet just once more, she had let them visit her.

Vicky, evidently, was obsessed with Janet, too. She had taken a liking to Crystal, and here they were, stalking Janet, who was about to fly back to St Paul, which was where she lived. The only person Crystal could ever imagine being happy with was flying away, out of her life.

“That’s her car,” Vicky said in a tight voice.
“Which one?”
“The forest green minivan, see?”
“Oh, uh huh, I see it,” said Crystal, nodding.

 Vicky cursed silently; Crystal’s expensive perfume filled the air, and if Janet caught a whiff of it, it would attract her attention. It was very uncommon.

The minivan disappeared down the road, and Vicky, straining, thought she saw it far away on the other side of the parking-lot. For a while they could see nothing, until they saw a large party on the pedestrian crossing, with Janet’s unmistakable figure in the middle of it. The chestnut hair was tied in a large scarf, and she wore slacks and a sweater. Vicky glanced down at Crystal, and nudged her. Crystal looked up at her questioningly, and she pointed to the party, and the girl drew her breath in sharply.
“That has to be her daughter,” Crystal whispered, referring to one of the girls in the party. There was Janet, two other brunettes, a tall blonde, and several kids. Crystal had learned that Janet’s daughter attended a junior college somewhere near Philadelphia, and lived with Janet’s friend.

Vicky dragged Crystal to where they could watch the party from closer up, without being seen. They sat on a bench along the check-in line, praying that they would check-in the traditional way, rather than electronically.

“They’re coming!” Crystal breathed, pretending to study her magazine.
“See the big blonde?”
“Yes,” said Crystal, under her breath.

Vicky studied the tall, fair-haired woman. She had a little girl hanging from one arm, and a large suitcase hanging from the other, but managed to be attentive to what the slim brunette with her was saying. Vicky had studied the brunette and dismissed her at once. The kids were cute, but were pretty generic, all four of them. But the tall blonde had a certain presence that made you pay attention.
Vicky studied Janet, hungrily noting the curve of her legs, the thrust of her breasts, the graceful line of her neck. Most people simply could not look graceful standing in line at a check-in counter, but Janet and the blonde looked like royalty, waiting patiently.

Now came the most dangerous part. They were right opposite them, and Vicky was acutely aware of Crystal’s perfume. They both wore sunglasses, and pretended to be absorbed in their magazines.

“I’m so glad you came, Mama.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
“Me too, Jan. Will you visit again if I send you a ticket?”

The blonde’s voice sent chills through Vicky’s body. There was a lot in common between the way she spoke and Vicky’s own speech; the similarity must have been greater when the blonde was younger. But the expression in it, the vivaciousness, the emotion in the voice would have soothed any wild beast, aroused the calmest man, the voice of a witch or an angel.
“Don’t be silly, girl,” Janet was saying, “I can afford a ticket.”
“I’d love to go to where you live, Miss Janet!” said a shy little voice.
“I’ve got some money saved,” said Janet’s daughter’s voice, remarkably like that of the blonde, but quite individual. “I guess we should make a trip out. Aunt Maryssa would love it for a visit, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yes,” said a new voice. “But I don’t know whether I could leave the house.”
“No,” said the blonde firmly. “I don’t think I could face …”
There was a sudden silence, and Vicky froze. She dared not look up, but she was almost certain that the blonde did not wish to be overheard. There were lots of secrets in this group. Vicky could not understand her own intense curiosity about Janet and her family, but she knew enough now, and all she wanted was to disappear. She could feel Crystal beside her, also frozen in fear of discovery.

“Let’s just go for a weekend, Mama,” the little boy saying. “Let’s go for Easter!”
They all laughed, as one of the older children explained that the little fellow believed Easter came every other week.

Vicky felt her hand taken in Crystal’s soft one.
“Are you okay?”
Vicky hadn’t realized that she had been sniffing softly. Once the little group had moved past them far enough, the two of them slipped out of the building. It felt odd to have the young redhead comfort her, but Crystal had put her arms around Vicky. She tried to explain why she had felt so sorry.
“It’s just that—I’ve always wanted brothers and sisters, but I’m an only child, and …”
“Me too!”
Vicky smiled. “They’re so cute, aren’t they?”
Crystal studied Vicky’s brown eyes, then looked away. “I want to have kids,” she said, “lots of kids. I don’t want to go to college.”
“Well, hon, hanging around Janet won’t get you what you want, then.”
“You don’t understand,’ Crystal said, stubbornly.
They were at the car. Vicky opened the doors, and they got in. Vicky carefully pulled out, and headed to the security station.
“What’s to understand? You can’t have kids without a guy, and Janet’s a woman. Am I missing something?”
Crystal shook her head, and looked out the window.


Chapter 1
Crystal had run away from home.
It had been a difficult semester, but she had somehow managed to finish all her finals well enough to pass. Whenever she had felt her energy flag, she had recalled Janet, and her quiet, intelligent speech, and the way she made Crystal feel like someone who mattered, and everything seemed a little easier. Crystal could not understand why Janet had closed the chapter on Crystal; she didn’t seem the sort of person who was into one-night-stands.

She had packed one enormous backpack with the bare minimum of things she needed: clothes, toiletries, her laptop and her phone, some photographs, some cash. Everything else was packed into the Lincoln, including credit-cards, schoolbooks and all her valuables, jewelry, toys.

She had driven the car home to Wisconsin over a couple of days, not answering her father’s calls, and timed her arrival just about midnight on a Saturday. She had left the car parked in the driveway, noting that her father’s BMW was missing, but her mother’s Land Rover was in the garage. Then she had begun to hike. She knew roughly which way Minnesota was.

It was easy at first. She had worn her good sneakers, and had managed to walk around fifty miles each of the first two days, hiding in a bus station overnight. As night fell at the end of the second day, she was out in the country, far from any bus station or comparable source of shelter. She was also hungry and thirsty. Her left foot was aching, and her shoulders, too.

What could she do? She plodded along, wearily. She had been toying with various options; the last thing she wanted was to alert them to the fact that she had run away from home. By now the car would have been discovered, and the word would be out. A red-haired, blue-eyed girl was hard to miss.

Finally she decided that she’d say she was on a hiking tour, on her way to Michigan, which was in the opposite direction from that in which she was headed. She had missed her estimate as to where she would be at nightfall, and that’s why she needed shelter. She had a sleeping-bag, and she would be fine anywhere, as long as it was dry.

She turned in at the closest farm, and was immediately intercepted by a beautiful dog, a large golden retriever, who was determined to establish her bona fides before it extended the hand —or lick— of friendship.

It barked its head off, as Crystal stood at the bottom of the steps, saying “Hi, pretty puppy … hi there, boy … oh, you’re so handsome …”
“Hello! Down, girl; Lassie, be quiet!”
“Oh, she’s a girl!”
“Oh yes; she’s a big baby, that’s what she is!”
Lassie was wagging her tail like mad, eager to make the acquaintance of the guest. Her presumed owner, a grey-haired man of medium height, stood aside to allow a pleasant-faced, grey-haired woman in glasses to see around him.
“Hello, dear, out a bit late, aren’t you! Ask her in, Jim. She looks tired.”
“Come in, come in! Where are you from, where are you headed?” Crystal gratefully went up the steps, feeling weak-kneed. “Good lord, look at this enormous pack; Molly, look at this thing!”
“Oh, it isn’t heavy when it’s strapped on right,” Crystal said. It wasn’t; she knew exactly how to do it. But the farmer was impressed, as was his wife.
“Oh dear,” she said, “have you been walking far?”
Crystal went into her spiel. She was on a walking tour, and had just set out from Eau Claire that afternoon, and hurt her foot. She was supposed to be at Tomah by nightfall, but she had sprained her ankle.
“Oh, you poor dear,” said Molly, “let me take a look!”
“Oh, it isn’t badly sprained,” said Crystal, quickly, but the woman insisted. In spite of her brave words, having the back pack taken off was a huge relief. “The swelling is way down,” she said, as the woman took off Crystal’s sock and felt for sign of a sprain. Molly gave up, but noticed that Crystal’s feet were swollen. Of course they were; she had walked fifty miles, not the twenty she had told them she had.

Gradually, with no hurry, Crystal was installed in a little bedroom, she had showered, and was having dinner with the couple, who had just started eating when Lassie had started barking. Crystal ate carefully, not eating her fill. It was bad enough she was accepting their hospitality under false pretenses, she didn’t want to eat them out of house and home, too.
“Do you have a lot of hikers stopping here?” she asked.
“No, hardly any! I seems a lovely thing to do,” said Molly, smiling. “How far will you go?”
“I meet some girls in Chicago, where we spend a week, and then we go into Iowa,” she said vaguely. The lies came easier every minute. “I’m way too fat; I figure walking will be good for me,” she said, changing the subject.
“Oh nonsense,” Molly scolded, “you look just perfect! All these silly ideas about being too fat, I don’t hold for any of it.” Jim diplomatically smiled and said nothing.

They didn’t keep her up too late. They slept early, around ten, and rose early, at five. Crystal woke up around seven, went down, ate breakfast, and then spent a half hour playing with the delightful dog Lassie.
“Well, I’d better be going,” said Crystal, coming inside.
“Why don’t you wait? When Jim gets back from the store, he can give you a ride into town.”
“Oh no,” Crystal said, “all that’s built into the schedule. I’ll just call in when I get to a certain place, and they plan around that. Lot’s of the girls will be slowed down with this and that; it’s normal.”
“Oh! How clever! They can do so much with computers, can’t they!”
“Uh huh,” said Crystal, nodding.
So she packed up, and headed out, carefully heading south-east again, because Jim would be returning, and the game would be up. Her stomach was churning with all the deceit, but it was exciting, too.
Sure enough, Jim saw her, driving down in his pickup, and stopped.
“Hop in,” he said, “I’ll drive you into town!”
“Oh no, Mr Whitaker, I have to walk! It’s something I have to do.”

He argued a bit, but she smiled and was firm. In the end he went home, and Crystal walked until the truck disappeared. Then she turned back. Now was the hard part. There was a thick hedge for most of the frontage of the farm, but there was about fifty feet where there was only a line of trees and a low fence. Crystal lowered her head and marched, looking at the ground. If they saw her and came out to inquire, she’d say she had lost some money last night.

Lassie barked her head off, but she wasn’t spotted. On she went, feeling better than she had in a while. She was going to walk a hundred miles that day. She hummed to herself, a little tuneless hum, and told herself she would see Janet in no time; maybe a day, maybe two.

She reached Eau Claire before noon, having walked very fast. She ate a quick lunch, bought herself a bottle of Gatorade, and set out slowly again. The road began to climb up and down, and she began to think that she should have taken the highway. But the highway meant state troopers, and they would be on the lookout for her. Maybe.

Up and up, and on she went. The road went up a lot, and came down a little, and she knew she was getting closer and closer. Then she saw: St Paul, 50 miles.

Finding Janet was just the first step in a long process. She would have to establish herself somewhere close to Janet, find a place to live, something to do, a source of income, so that Janet couldn’t send her away. What could she do? There was nothing, except waitressing, babysitting—no, forget that; you had to have references. She could be a maid. She would have to lie like crazy, and she hated to lie. Already, the lies she had said had given her an upset stomach, and she knew once she answered a call of nature —difficult with her backpack— it would be a doozy.

Anyway, she would find a way to keep an eye on Janet while she worked at getting settled. Then she would confront her. What did she want? Nothing. But she wanted everything. It was a quandary; she wanted nothing from Janet, except herself. But she had to show Janet that she didn’t need Janet for survival. She had to survive on her own. She had to be worthy of the wonderful, incredible woman. For the first time in her life, Crystal had a focus, a direction, a goal. And she found tremendous resources within herself.

The road between Eau Claire and St Paul was congested. She was left alone, but it was a lot less rural, and Crystal felt a little conspicuous. She headed off on a side road, because it was past eight, and she wasn’t going to make it into St Paul that night. What was she going to do? What if everyone was looking for a redheaded girl who claimed to be headed for Chicago, but was really headed the opposite way, and who liked to stay in farmhouses under false pretenses?

She was even more conspicuous in this little lane that obviously didn’t lead anywhere. But it was dark, there were no street lamps, and the house at the end of the lane was unlit. Crystal looked in the garage, and it was empty, with the door open. Carefully lowering her pack, she hid it among some shrubs, and walked round the house. There was a note on the side entrance near the mailbox.
“Please put mail inside door. Back in July. Thanks, Wilsons.”
Good heavens, Crystal thought, they’ve left the house open and gone away.

The house was absolutely empty, and wide open. Crystal moved herself in, and found a cozy little apartment in the basement. She had a warm shower, and ate the rest of the food she had brought with her. She could hear the refrigerator humming upstairs, but she didn’t dare steal any food. She sat, scared to death, on the sofa that doubled as a bed in the little basement apartment, and waited for dark. Were just the folks who lived upstairs gone, or was everybody gone?

She carefully got up, hid her backpack behind a bush near the kitchen, and checked out the entire house. Then she saw headlights approaching the house. Scared to death, she decided to hide in the coat closet near the front door. She could see everything from there, and could steal out from two different doors if necessary.

The headlights turned into the yard, and a woman got out, and disappeared into the basement. Crystal closed her eyes in fear. Had she moved anything downstairs? Had she dripped water on the floor? She’d hung the towel out on the back fence, in a fit of silliness; would it be noticed?

The woman banged about for an hour, put on her radio loud, singing along to some horrible Country songs, cursed for a while, watched TV for an hour, and went to sleep. Thank god, Crystal thought, she had use the toilet already. She needed to pee, but she was afraid to walk about.

After sitting frozen for three hours, Crystal tiptoed to the kitchen, out the back, and relieved herself far from the house, near the woods at the back. Oh god, she prayed, please help me tonight; I will never, never break into a house again!

She left the backpack where it had been, hidden from view behind a thick rosebush, and sat in the kitchen, on the floor, and tried to sleep, in vain.

The basement woman awoke, clattered around for an hour, and drove away in a cloud of dust. Crystal got her backpack on, and was out of the house in a flash, and only slowed down once she had gotten far enough to feel safe.

The traffic was very heavy. Crystal wasn’t hungry anymore; she wasn’t thirsty. She had drunk what was left in her water bottle, and was fine. She just wanted to move on.

Bravely, she got on the highway, and marched, and was across the border, and soon she was approaching an enormous city, which had to be St Paul. She had made it.

She ate at a restaurant, a good brunch, to make up for her two missed meals, but not too much that she couldn’t handle it. She knew that eating too heavily made it hard to walk. Now she needed to head north and west, to Ferguson. There had been only two Janets who were principals in Minnesota, and Crystal had decided on checking out the closer one first. The other Janet was at a school further north and further west.

Chapter 2
Crystal’s father had looked for her in Philadelphia a couple of days before checking with his wife. He had learned that the car was in the driveway, and flown back. All her things were in the car, and they first jumped to the conclusion that she had decided to kill herself.

“There has to be a note in here, somewhere!” he cried, out of his mind in fear and grief, and sure enough, there was a note in an envelope, outside, under the wiper blade.
The writing was barely legible, written in pencil.

“Dear Mom and Dad,
“I’m fine. I’m dropping out of school, but I’m going to be fine. Please don’t look for me. I’m going to write to you, but you mustn’t hunt for me. I’m going to write you in a couple of weeks.
“Love, Crystal.”

“She’s going to be fine? What in hell is wrong with the girl? My god, I got her a place at Penn! Does she understand what that means? Has she no brains at all? ”
“No,” said Crystal’s mother, sarcastically, “she takes after me. And she’s a girl. Two problems.”
“I’m going to find her!”
“Leave her alone for a day or two, Bill; what are you going to do, haul her in, and have her run away in a month?”
“So that’s it? She’s run away from home? A bit late, isn’t it?”
“Bill, relax. If she gets in trouble, she’ll call.”
“How can you be so unconcerned?”
That was too much for the woman. She smashed the plate she had been washing, and hurried off, covering her face with her apron.

Three days later, Crystal was in Ferguson. She was down to her last hundred dollars, and had learned to sleep by the side of the road in bushes and under trees. She had lost weight, and living in a constant state of anxiety had taken its toll. Every morning she sat down and carefully combed out her precious hair, and calmed herself down. This lasted for about an hour, by which time her fears would catch up with her again.

To be in Ferguson, though, was a wonderful feeling. It was almost heaven; pretty farms and homes and stores lined the one main road, and a lane led up a hill to the big private school.
Ferguson School!

Crystal headed into the town, and got a room at the inn. Ferguson Inn was a lovely old place, all stone, and a room was just forty dollars, unbelievably inexpensive. The girl at the counter smiled at her, in spite of the sorry state she was in.

“You must be hiking,” she said, dimpling at Crystal prettily. Normally girls were rude to her, but this one was very friendly.
“Yes, I’m just wandering around, trying to spend as little money as I can,” Crystal admitted. “Listen, what’s the name of the principal of the school up there?”
“Oh, that’s Mrs Janet Kolb,” she said at once. “Is that where you’re headed?”
“No, I was curious. What does she look like?”
“Oh, tall, really strong and efficient-looking, like a soldier. But she’s very nice,” the girl insisted, “and she has a cute daughter, just the sweetest thing. And there’s little Erin up there with them, … anyway, about Miss Janet: she’s like I said, a tall brunette, a little grey on her temples. That who you’re looking for?”
Crystal shrugged. She looked away. “I guess I have to see her,” she said. “I can stay a couple of days, I guess. Is it cheaper if I pay in advance?”
The girl laughed. “No, it’s the same. It’s cheaper if you’re a student, though—are you a student?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Let’s see your ID, then.”
Crystal looked at her, sizing her up. Was this a trick? Was there a lookout for Crystal Baxter, a blue-eyed, redheaded girl running away from home?
She lowered her backpack, and hunted for her wallet.
“University of Pennsylvania! Wow, that’s Ivy League!”
“Yeah, hm-hmm,” said Crystal, hiding her nervousness.
“You must be really smart,” the girl said. “Did you know who was principal just before Miss Janet? It was Helen Nordstrom! She’s famous, do you know her?”
Crystal took her card back and put it away.
“Helen Nordstrom … oh, wait, isn’t she the woman who acts in the Galaxy Show?”
“Uh huh! That’s her! Can you believe she lived right here! Right in Ferguson House, up there! She and Miss Janet were friends. Oh, she was the nicest, sweetest woman, ever! I can hardly believe I know someone who’s famous!”
“So, how much do you charge, with a student ID?”
“Twenty-five dollars a night! Good thing I asked, huh!”
That evening, Crystal was stunned to see Janet walking down the street, outside the inn. She watched through the window, as Janet went into the post office, and five minutes later, head back to the road that went up the hill, and go towards the school and the fabulous Ferguson House. Her search was over.

Two days later, Crystal had found work in the little town a couple of miles down the road, at a supermarket. She had knocked at the door of a house in which an old lady lived by herself, and offered to do housekeeping in exchange for a room.

“My husband has gone away, ma’am, and I have been thrown out of my parents’ house. I just need a place until I’m on my feet again.”

“Young lady, I don’t know anything about you; you could be gone in the morning, with all my silver! Put yourself in my position. How can I trust you, dear?”

She had watched Crystal, as the girl pondered the problem. In her heart the woman had already decided that if there was any excuse to help the girl, she would. The enormous blue eyes wandered round the room. Was she casing the joint, sizing up the value of what was there? No, she was thinking. The eyes came to rest on the owner of the house.

“I see what you mean,” she said. She drummed her fingers on her thighs for a while, her eyes roaming around as she thought furiously. “How about if you keep my things with you? It’s everything I have in the world,” she said, “you can keep it locked up in your room for a week, or until you’re sure I mean no harm?”
“Okay,” smiled the woman. “I’m Agnes Harris. What’s your name?”
“Chrissy Baxter, Ma’am.” She knew exactly how lucky she had been, but she was also very aware of her own worth. Even if Miss Harris did not know it, she had helped a kindhearted, hard-working girl. Her eyes shone as she felt relief flood through her. “If not for you, I could be homeless very easily,” she said. There was no pretense in her manner at all. “And I could never get a job. I have to hurry to the store, Ma’am; here, keep the bag.”
“All right,” said Mrs Harris. “Don’t you want to see your room first?”
“That can wait,” said Crystal, “I have to get the job.”
Fifteen minutes later, she had the job—a mere $400 a week—and the room, with a few of her clothes neatly laid out on the closet shelves, and the rest of her things in Mrs Harris’s bedroom, locked away. Ms Harris shared her nice warm supper with Crystal, and then Crystal gratefully went to bed.

She started work the following day at seven. She slipped out of the house, her hair beautifully combed and tied carefully back, neatly dressed in jeans and sneakers, with a light jacket against the early morning chill. She knew absolutely nothing of working in a grocery, except what she had observed. She had never worked for even an hour her whole life; her father was an affluent businessman, and her parents had given her everything she had ever wanted. But she was a lot brighter than she gave herself credit for, and she learned fast. She was very respectful to her fellow-workers, and even more respectful to the customers. She did all the work she was asked to do, as fast as she could, and even helped her co-workers. She shelved, and mopped, and shelved and mopped, and fetched and carried, until she was done by four.

 Her first meal for the day had been at eleven, when her new friend Meredith had shared an enormous sub with her. “It was $3 for a foot, so I bought one. Here, have some!”
“Oo, this is good,” said Crystal, “I’ll buy you one when I get paid!”
“Are you broke? Would you like some cash to keep with you?”
“N-no, no, I’m fine,” stammered Crystal.
Meredith reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of notes. “Here,” she said, giving Crystal a $20 bill.
“When do we get paid?” asked Crystal softly, resuming her chewing.
“Friday.”
“I’ll pay you back Friday, promise.”
“Okay!” she had replied cheerily. Meredith liked Crystal, and she was kind of pretty. But Crystal kept her eyes carefully on her work, and on people’s faces, afraid that she would get an unsavory reputation.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had to work so early? I had been up for hours, Chrissy! What time do you start work tomorrow, then?”
“Seven, again,” Crystal said, smiling at her landlady. “I had lunch at work, and I have a little money, if you need something brought for supper,” she added.
Ms Harris laughed. “Supper is ready; we just have to heat it up, dear. What time will you be getting hungry?”

That evening, Crystal walked back to Ferguson, dressed carefully, not to attract too much attention, and sat at the local ice-cream parlor, sipping tea and watching the street. She wore a hat, to cover her hair, the only concession she made to the fact that she was a fugitive. The more suspicious she acted, she thought, the more conspicuous she made herself.

Presently Janet walked down the road, dressed for a walk, walked up the main street and disappeared from view. Crystal waited for an hour, and headed home, just in time for supper.
“Where have you been?” demanded Ms Harris.
“I went exploring,” Crystal said. “I like to walk, it’s the only exercise I get,” she explained.

Crystal settled into the routine, and after the third week, she got her things back from Ms Harris. She had already paid her $300, in addition to helping clean up the house, and Ms Harris declared that that was more than all the silver in the house was worth. “I wrote and told my son all about you,” she said, “and if anything happens to me, they know whom to look for!” Crystal went white, and Ms Harris laughed. “I was just joking, dear; it was a joke! A terrible joke; I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mean you any harm, Ms Harris,” she said, “I’m grateful for your kindness. What did you tell your son?”
“Why, that I had got a companion, called Chrissy, and that she’s the sweetest young woman I could hope to find!”
Chrissy’s face relaxed, and Mrs Harris was treated to a brilliant smile. The conversation changed subject, and both women forgot about the little exchange.

Crystal soon learned that Janet walked a circuit every afternoon, around six; she walked down the street, along main street, and then up the other end of the road that led up the hill; it was a loop that joined up with Main Street about five miles further on.

It was wonderful to see Janet walking along, briskly, for exercise, but with a smile on her face that indicated a relaxed frame of mind. At first, Crystal had been afraid that Janet would look up and recognize her. But she never looked into the little store. Once, though, she had come in with a little girl of about thirteen, and two tall blonde kids, a boy and a girl, who had all eaten ice creams, seated just a few feet from Crystal. She had hardly breathed for half an hour, and kept her head buried in her newspaper.

Janet’s soft, cultured voice had blended with the quiet chatter of the little kid, and the banter of the older kids. Janet Kolb. That was her Janet’s name! Who were the kids? The tall blonde girl looked a lot like the tall blonde she had seen at the Philly airport. Had that been the lady from Galaxy? Crystal tried to remember the face of the tall blonde again. Vicky had said that the tall blonde in Philly had been Janet’s former lover. Crystal longed to take a good look at the little group, seated so fearfully close to her, but she didn’t dare.

Half an hour later, she ran all the way back, to make it in time for supper.

Ms Harris applied pressure on Crystal to go to church with her. Soon, she was sucked into church activities in the afternoons, and she couldn’t find the time to go look at Janet every day. Wednesdays were clear, but Tuesdays there was the youth fellowship, Thursdays was choir, and Fridays they had volunteered to arrange the church for the weekend’s activities.
“I’ve never gone in to church so many times in my life,” she had said, not quite complaining, to Agnes one night at supper.
Agnes had laughed. “I’m sorry to have got you involved so heavily, Chrissy; I thought you might like the company!”
“I do like the company,” she said quickly, “but I miss my walks!”
“Tell you what. I’ll do Fridays by myself. How’s that?”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, go on,” Agnes said, “go exploring all you want! I was hoping you’d choose a young man from the youth group, that was my plan, but I know that wasn’t fair of me!”
Chrissy blushed bright red. “Oh Agnes … you mustn’t do that kind of thing!”
“Why not? What kind of life is this, working yourself to the bone, just to pay your rent?”
Crystal looked away. She would soon have to trust Agnes, and tell her the truth. In a few months she would be eighteen, and nobody could make her do what she didn’t want to do.

At least she could observe Janet, from a distance, a couple of times a week. For a little more than a minute, thrice a week, she could study the lovely woman. Occasionally she would stop and talk to someone, as beautiful as a queen. Sometimes she went into the post office, and when she came out, she was facing directly into Crystal’s window. It was all Crystal could do, not to follow her all the way home.

She sat at the window, planning her move. Some day soon, she would have to meet Janet. Do you remember me? It’s Crystal; you came to my room, and you … we slept together. Do you know how you have changed my life, stolen my heart, made me your prisoner?

No, she had to make Janet want to talk to her. She had to woo her. She had to convince Janet that she was getting a quality human being, not some useless burden. Someone who Janet could be proud of. Suddenly Crystal knew the enormous flaw in her plan. Janet could only go for a girl who had a college degree.

“I want to go to college,” Crystal told Agnes that night at supper. “I’m a nobody! Nobody will want me … I have to go to college … get a degree … what have I been thinking?”
She was so distraught that Agnes was perturbed. “Maybe you should talk to your parents again, Chrissy. It’s been a month; maybe they’ll be willing to reconsider.”
Chrissy shrugged. She forced a smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t run off and leave you without notice; it’s just that … going to college is so—is such a hard thing! Thinking of college makes me scared.”
“Oh, it isn’t all that hard,” said Agnes. “I graduated from Bemidji with a degree in history, and it was easy. Of course, it helped that I like history,” she added, laughing.
“You liked college?”
“Of course! That’s where I met Mr Harris, and we got married right after I graduated!”
“Is there … is there a, um, a state university near here?”
“Oh yes, lots of them. There’s a two-year school close by, very inexpensive, and you can collect credits to attend a bigger school. If you do really well, you could easily transfer to the University of Minnesota, or wherever you like.”

Crystal hardly slept that night. She had to go back to college. She just knew that without a degree, Janet would never look at her. Well, that wasn’t true; she would be kind and polite, but—they would never be partners. There could be no love between those who weren’t equals. She’d learned that in sociology class. It was a scientific fact.

Then Crystal got the shock of her life. It was around ten O’clock one Friday, she was stocking a shelf, happy as a clam, when she had turned round to see Janet walking towards her, just a few feet away. They had both stared at each other, frozen.