Read Online Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Michaels
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dusty sunlight
pouring in through streaked panes, brightening the colors of the girls’
pastel sweaters and blouses, showing the unformed contours of the boys’
faces…. Beside Gordon’s sure maturity they had seemed so young. Of
course all the girls had fallen in love with him, even the ones who
sneered at crushes on teachers. And the boys, after the initial
antagonism, had succumbed in a different way. Linda could still feel
the shock of incredulity when she realized that this god, this man ,
was looking at her with more than the smiling courtesy he displayed
toward the others. That when he talked to her, his voice was different.
That he really felt—
The vision was so real that the interruption made it
waver and shake, like a film on a cracking screen. Linda turned with
the bright shards of memory still close around her and blinked through
dazzled eyes at the man whose arrival had disturbed her.
He was alone.
“Where—where are the others?” she stammered.
“Andrea’s muttering incantations over some plants,”
Michael said with a smile. “Gordon was called to the telephone, and
Briggs went with him.”
“Oh.”
Slowly Linda relaxed her cramped fingers, which had been
clutching the edge of the drapes. Her mind began to function again. If
Briggs had gone with Gordon, the telephone call must have been a
business call, and it might take some time. Andrea in the garden, lost
in her crazy spells…
You see, one of those disembodied
voices murmured gently, if you want something badly enough,
it arranges itself ….
She smiled, slowly, and saw the subtle response in
Michael’s face; she turned, slowly, slowly, and looked out into the
palely lighted night. He would have to join her at the window; it would
only be courteous. And from here she could see Andrea returning. She
could hear, if she listened carefully, any footsteps approaching the
room.
He came. She had known he would.
“Very effective,” he said, after a moment.
Startled, Linda looked up at him. Just what had he meant
by that ambiguous adjective? Whether he meant to refer to the lights or
not, she would have to assume that he had.
“I don’t really like it,” she said. “The lighting.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It bothers me, somehow.”
“Because it’s not real? You are bothered by pretense?”
This time she could not be mistaken. There was a slight
but definite mocking tone in his voice.
“No,” she said sharply. “I don’t object to good
imitations. But there’s a tint in this light that is like a travesty of
moonlight. Greenish. Don’t you see it?”
Michael looked, frowning in concentration. That was one
of the qualities that made him so attractive. He seriously considered
new ideas. He might be prejudiced against her—that was inevitable—but
he would not dismiss any reasonable question without thinking about it.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “You don’t see it right
away.”
“No. It—grows on you.”
Linda moved a little, shifting position. Her bare arm
brushed his sleeve. She felt the slight recoil of his arm with
satisfaction. He was not impervious. But then which of them was? Old
and young, stupid and brilliant, sensitive and brutal—they were all
alike in this one thing. If she couldn’t reach the mind of the
individual man, she would reach the male animal. But she would have to
force it upon him. He was civilized enough, and cautious enough, to
reject subtle advances. Some men would have responded before this.
She swayed, raising one hand to her face. Crude, this
method, but time was short. Once she was in his arms, the rest would
follow.
He had to put his arm around her; he couldn’t let her
crash to the floor at his feet.
“Feeling dizzy again?” he asked coolly. “You’d better sit
down.”
“No. I’ll be all right in a minute.”
Damn him, she thought. He was as rigid as a stick of
wood. It was hard to resist his effort to move her toward a chair or
couch, and
pouring in through streaked panes, brightening the colors of the girls’
pastel sweaters and blouses, showing the unformed contours of the boys’
faces…. Beside Gordon’s sure maturity they had seemed so young. Of
course all the girls had fallen in love with him, even the ones who
sneered at crushes on teachers. And the boys, after the initial
antagonism, had succumbed in a different way. Linda could still feel
the shock of incredulity when she realized that this god, this man ,
was looking at her with more than the smiling courtesy he displayed
toward the others. That when he talked to her, his voice was different.
That he really felt—
The vision was so real that the interruption made it
waver and shake, like a film on a cracking screen. Linda turned with
the bright shards of memory still close around her and blinked through
dazzled eyes at the man whose arrival had disturbed her.
He was alone.
“Where—where are the others?” she stammered.
“Andrea’s muttering incantations over some plants,”
Michael said with a smile. “Gordon was called to the telephone, and
Briggs went with him.”
“Oh.”
Slowly Linda relaxed her cramped fingers, which had been
clutching the edge of the drapes. Her mind began to function again. If
Briggs had gone with Gordon, the telephone call must have been a
business call, and it might take some time. Andrea in the garden, lost
in her crazy spells…
You see, one of those disembodied
voices murmured gently, if you want something badly enough,
it arranges itself ….
She smiled, slowly, and saw the subtle response in
Michael’s face; she turned, slowly, slowly, and looked out into the
palely lighted night. He would have to join her at the window; it would
only be courteous. And from here she could see Andrea returning. She
could hear, if she listened carefully, any footsteps approaching the
room.
He came. She had known he would.
“Very effective,” he said, after a moment.
Startled, Linda looked up at him. Just what had he meant
by that ambiguous adjective? Whether he meant to refer to the lights or
not, she would have to assume that he had.
“I don’t really like it,” she said. “The lighting.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It bothers me, somehow.”
“Because it’s not real? You are bothered by pretense?”
This time she could not be mistaken. There was a slight
but definite mocking tone in his voice.
“No,” she said sharply. “I don’t object to good
imitations. But there’s a tint in this light that is like a travesty of
moonlight. Greenish. Don’t you see it?”
Michael looked, frowning in concentration. That was one
of the qualities that made him so attractive. He seriously considered
new ideas. He might be prejudiced against her—that was inevitable—but
he would not dismiss any reasonable question without thinking about it.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “You don’t see it right
away.”
“No. It—grows on you.”
Linda moved a little, shifting position. Her bare arm
brushed his sleeve. She felt the slight recoil of his arm with
satisfaction. He was not impervious. But then which of them was? Old
and young, stupid and brilliant, sensitive and brutal—they were all
alike in this one thing. If she couldn’t reach the mind of the
individual man, she would reach the male animal. But she would have to
force it upon him. He was civilized enough, and cautious enough, to
reject subtle advances. Some men would have responded before this.
She swayed, raising one hand to her face. Crude, this
method, but time was short. Once she was in his arms, the rest would
follow.
He had to put his arm around her; he couldn’t let her
crash to the floor at his feet.
“Feeling dizzy again?” he asked coolly. “You’d better sit
down.”
“No. I’ll be all right in a minute.”
Damn him, she thought. He was as rigid as a stick of
wood. It was hard to resist his effort to move her toward a chair or
couch, and
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