Part 18 (1/2)
”Oh, that's what you always say. But I banged in and you didn't hear me.
I lighted the lamp and you didn't seem particularly conscious of it. And the window. The window was wide open. I closed that for you. The wind was bringing in just yards of those flower smells you hate so.”
”Was it, Gina?”
”Huh--huh.”
”You smelled them, then?”
His tone was strangely quiet.
”Of course I did. Come and sit here, Billy.” She wiggled herself into a more comfortable position on the arm of the chair. ”And tell your onliest sister how much you love her.”
He went and sat beside her in the chair. He put his arm about her waist.
”You're a dear child, Gina.”
”I know it!” She snuggled close to him. ”And I've had the most divine time, Billy. Wood Mills is a glorious place. There wasn't an awful lot to do; but whatever we did was great fun.”
”You'd have a good time anywhere, little sister.”
”Would I?”
Her eyes wavered about the room a bit hungrily.
Something in her voice pulled his eyes up to her face.
”Gina, what is it?”
”Nothing, Billy.”
She felt his fingers tighten at her side.
”Aren't you happy here, Gina?”
”Of course I am, Billy!” Her head was thrown back so that the long line of her throat showed in its firm molded whiteness. ”Only, Billy, I want--I don't think I even know what I want. Only just sometimes I feel it. A want--that--perhaps--isn't--even--mine. It's for something;--well, for something that doesn't feel here.”
He stroked her hand.
”It's lonesome for you, Gina.”
”No, it isn't that. It's just; oh, I guess it's just that I worry about you.”
”Me, Gina?”
”Yes, Billy. Sometimes you look so--so starved. That's what makes me think it's your want I feel--; yours that you want very much--and--and--Billy, that you can't get hold of.”
”No, Gina! No!”
She pressed her cheek against his.