~ Lost In Fear ~

by

H. L. Chandler

Matt clamped his teeth to keep from yelling at her. “It doesn’t have to be this way! Julie, you don’t even have to stay in this town. I asked you to come with me, help me with the research. We can work together. Let Mr. Harris find someone else for next fall.”

“Oh wonderful, and what happens if you decide you aren’t so wild about me somewhere down the road? Then where would I be? No, Matt. I’ve worked too hard to build a life for myself. I don’t want you to leave thinking I don’t care for you, because I do. It’s not the right time.”

“Just when would the time be right? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Matt spoke in a loud whisper, ever conscious that he might be overheard. In the few weeks Matt had spent in Oak Grove, he had developed a strong dislike for the town. A gossipy little place that smothered him, made him feel buried alive.

Julie was silent. Then she sighed.

“You see? It’s no use. I’ll say goodbye now, Matt. Please let this be the end of it.”

Julie hung up before Matt could reply. His first impulse was to rush to her house and pound on the door until she let him in. Yet, what would that prove? Maybe he should stay and play Julie’s waiting game. Still, there wasn’t any reason to believe Julie would be more receptive later.

He left the hotel and walked out into the early evening. What was he supposed to do with himself for the rest of the night? It would be hours before he could sleep, and maybe not even then. All he could think about was Julie. Their situation was like a tangled ball of string. When either of them tried to straighten things out it only made the knots tighter. He kept walking until he came to the City Park. As the day ended the town turned to pewter, the buildings and streets colorless and metallic, only the river held any color.

Matt leaned over the rock retaining wall and watched the water flow black and heavy, its swells iridescent in the waning light. The swift current and sharp ripples formed a hypnotic pattern, ever changing yet the same. He leaned out over the wall and stared at the flashing water. A chill seized the back of his neck and wiggled down his spine; there was something unfriendly about the river. A strong sensation of dread or impending doom dropped around him. He experienced a sudden fear, as if someone or something was poised to strike.

The feeling was strong enough to make Matt shiver. He looked around. He was alone; the only movement was the current in the river and the slight breeze rippling the leaves on the trees. Still Matt moved away from the rock wall and walked on. Night swiftly settled over Oak Grove, and he missed Julie already. A huge, empty ache settled in his chest. As he walked toward the Spring River Club, he knew he’d have to see her tonight even if it made things worse. Maybe he’d have a beer while he gathered his courage.

Matt followed the bend of the river to the north end of town where the club stood beside the bridge. Yellow, red, and amber lights hung from the roof of the club. They shimmered in the summer night and cast dancing puddles of color onto the river’s black surface. Loud, vibrating music poured out of the club from a band inside. The piano hammered out dull coins of melody while a fiddle sang fast and high and underneath it all the drums kept up a solid beat.

Cars and pickups lined the curb near the bridge and filled the closed Mobil station’s lot across the street. Matt stood on the sidewalk and watched the customers come and go. After a few minutes, Matt followed a couple up the wooden steps and through the swinging doors.

The music, laughter, and general clatter were ear-throbbing. Matt took a deep breath and plunged into the smoky haze and boozy fumes. The bar crowd stood elbows to ribs and Matt squeezed in at the end near the door. The tables were packed, some shoved together for large groups, and on the far side of the tiny dance floor gathered a raucous cluster of single men. Matt ordered and then turned to do some ‘people watching’. He recognized a couple of the checkers from the Thrifty Wise. They wore fancy, low-cut blouses and full, swinging skirts. While they cast sly glances at the herd of single men, the men pretended not to notice them. The cigarette smoke swirled in a paisley pattern of light and dark gray. The country-western band fought to overcome the din and roar of Oak Grove’s party crowd.

Matt sipped his light beer, not wanting it after all. The crush of heated bodies gave off hot waves of energy, driving up the temperature in the club. Matt’s shirt stuck to his back, and beads of moisture formed at his hairline. When the swinging doors swished in and out, a surge of sultry night air added to Matt’s dampness. When the band took a break the noise level dropped. Most of the couples left the floor and, fanning themselves, headed for their tables. However, a few diehards plugged the jukebox and kept dancing.

The five band members trooped out to the redwood deck facing the river. Through the glass doors, Matt watched them light up their own brand of weed. After twenty minutes, the boys in the band were back, stoked up, mellowed out, and ready to let her rip for another set. The drummer bent his dark, curly head and rolled out a bump and grind rhythm low down enough to make a stone sweat. The piano came in behind with a Jerry Lee Lewis, syncopated, scale-raking staccato that nearly lifted the keys off the board. The dancers shuffled and stomped, raising a fine dust from the rattling pine flooring.

Pitchers of beer left the bar trailing a lacy froth of foam and came back empty, faster and faster. The tempo of activity increased and so did the heat. Matt wiped his forehead and leaned toward the door to catch the damp breeze. Then as Matt finished his beer a woman came through the swinging doors. She made her way toward the dance floor. The crowd parted to let her pass as heads twirled and necks stretched to catch a glimpse of her. The red silk dress she wore was breathtaking, and a moment of silence followed in her wake.

Matt stared. Was that Julie?

It was! Yet, it couldn’t be... The whole body attitude was wrong. Matt peered through the hazy smoke. He wished she’d turn around.

As she strolled across the club floor, her slender waist twisted, giving an easy roll to her rounded hips. Definitely not Julie’s gait. The dress’s beaded top hung low on the woman’s left shoulder, and she raised a languid hand to stay the slipping. Her shining dark hair, a mass of bouncing curls, had the same red-gold sparks as Julie’s hair, but Julie wore her hair in smooth waves. Matt half stood up watching her.

Others were staring, too. The atmosphere in the club crackled as if the woman were an electrical charge. Like static electricity drawing bits and particles, people edged toward her. Matt leaned forward to see her face; he took a half step. The woman stopped and, as if surveying her surroundings, turned toward Matt. Over her creamy shoulder, she slipped him a smile that chilled his blood. Matt put his hand behind him, groping for the bar. If that wasn’t Julie then he’d lost his mind.

Julie’s lips were red as the red silk dress she wore. Against the crimson red, her smooth skin took on the glow of alabaster backlit by a golden candle. Her amber-colored eyes and dark chestnut hair shimmered with gold dust. For a second, she held Matt with a mocking glance. Her nostrils flared, and her lips curled in a haughty smile. Then she tossed her head and turned her attention to the awestruck stag line. With each breath, the glittering beads across Julie’s bosom seemed to send out a tiny jingle that only Matt could hear. Yet, from the expression on every male face they heard the exciting, enticing tune, too.

One of the bolder men, wearing tight jeans and high-heeled, reptile-leather boots, touched Julie’s arm and spoke to her. She turned and laughed. Her sparkling teeth and the beads on her red silk headband flashed.

Matt moistened his dry lips. Something strange was happening. Julie wouldn’t be here, dressed like this. Still, it was Julie, wasn’t it? Of course it was. She’d acknowledged him. The look in her eyes spoke directly to him. Yes, this was Julie. Still, not the Julie he knew.

The man at Julie’s side slipped his arm around her waist and whirled her onto the crowded dance floor. The other men stood gaping, their eyes brimming with envy. The two checkers from Thrifty Wise huddled at a table casting shocked glances at Julie. They chattered behind raised hands. Their heads bobbed and their eyes blinked, rapid as a telegrapher’s key. Did Julie know what she was doing? Matt watched in disbelief.

Julie whirled to the music like a luscious, tantalizing sexual fantasy. Each sway of her hips and curve of her arm sent out an alluring invitation. The wolf pack pressed nearer the dance floor. The music ended and the young man in the reptile boots reluctantly returned Julie to the edge of the crowd. Admirers vying for the next dance immediately rushed her.

The band members hadn’t missed Julie’s entrance, and in the pause between numbers, they took the opportunity to stare. As the men around her struggled to gain Julie’s attention she preened and waved them away with a coy gesture. Then feigning distress at not being able to dance with them all Julie brightened with a solution. She dipped out from under the circle of a hairy blond arm and glided onto the dance floor alone. No one seemed to notice the lack of music. Julie spread her arms and swayed her shoulders to some inner song, and her hips rotated to a beat as old as mankind.