Part Twenty-six
Party

There are times when you think that the world is going to come to an end, has to come to an end, but I've found that it usually doesn't, and you have to find a way to go on. Usually you have to go on because of other people. When Uncle Ed died, Mom went on because of me. When Flagg attacked me in Korea, I went on because of Ray. That's exactly what happened this time.

Ray was standing right there. Thank heavens he wasn't looking at me in those first few seconds. He was glancing after Jocelyn and Mr. Gaines, and he didn't see my first reaction. I did good, I think. I didn't whimper, and I didn't faint. I didn't even start to shake. But I winced. Flagg noticed, and his smile widened. That did it. Somehow that familiar, cold little smile, the one that never reached his eyes, stiffened my spine.

Ray looked back at us. "Yes? Where was this?" His voice held polite interest, nothing more.

"Oh, I knew your boy at the MASH unit." He emphasized 'knew', then the bastard held out his hand.

Forgive me, Mom. I put my hands in my pockets. Ray blinked, and I said, "It hasn't been all that long, Colonel."

"That's right. It seems like only yesterday."

Mrs. Iselin bustled over. "Raymond, what are you doing out here? Mingle, boy, mingle! Walter, why don't you go chat with Jocelyn Gaines? Such a sweet young girl."

I looked at her in surprise. Hadn't she told Ray before that the sweet girl was a Communist tart? Well, I was too grateful to worry about that now. It gave me an excuse to get away from Flagg. "I'd be pleased, ma'am." I turned my back on Flagg without another word and went into the living room.

Jocelyn and her father were just accepting cocktails from Senator Iselin. The Senator gave me a bright, false smile. "Olive or onion?"

"No, thank you. I'll wait for supper."

Mr. Gaines smiled, and Jocelyn almost giggled. I noticed then that Ray's stepdad was holding an extra drink. "He means in your cocktail, Mr. O'Reilly," she said.

"No, thank you, I don't care for any."

Iselin gave me a condescending look, but Mr. Gaines nodded his approval. "Glad to hear it, son. Too many of our men seem to be coming back from Korea with a problem with alcohol."

I thought about Hawkeye, and Trapper, and the still in the Swamp, and said slowly, "Some of 'em it's the only way they can deal with what they have to do every day over there, sir. I guess it's kind of hard for them to let go of it once they come back. Or maybe it's kind of hard for it to let go of THEM. It'd be nice if maybe the veteran's services might offer some sort of help for that. I hear they have a program that's having a lot of success--something about steps."

"That's a very enlightened point of view, Mr. O'Reilly."

"You can call me Walter, sir, or Radar. Most of the folks in the MASH called me Radar."

"Really?" Jocelyn seemed interested. "Why was that?"

Ray had joined us. I glanced at him, then said, "I guess it was because I was the radio operator."

An arm reached past me, brushing my sleeve, and I froze. We were all clustered close around the drink trolley, but usually people still keep a certain amount of space between themselves. I felt breath fan past my ear as Flagg said, "If he doesn't want that, I'll take it, John." Mr. Iselin handed over the drink, and the hand was withdrawn, but Flagg didn't move back. I could feel him now, standing behind me. It was the way sometimes, in pitch blackness, you can sense the wall you're about to run into.

Mr. Gaines was talking. "You're ex-CIA, aren't you, Flagg? And now a security expert? I would've thought you'd pass on alcohol."

"A man has to allow himself some indulgences, Mr. Gaines." The way were were standing, my body blocked Flagg from the others, so they didn't see what I felt--he put his hand on the small of my back.

"Excuse me." I sidestepped and turned quickly, headed for the hall.

"Walter?" Ray caught at my arm.

I pulled loose. "I have to be excused, Ray."

"What's...?"

"I have to be excused." It was a good thing that there was a restroom a couple of doors down the hall, because I never would have made it upstairs. As it was I barely had time to lock the door and bend over before I vomitted.

I sank to my knees and rested my forehead against the counter, smelling the sour stink. Oh, God. Touched me, bastard put his hand on me, touched me, oh God, oh Jesus.

There was a knock at the door. "Walter? Are you all right?" I didn't say anything, unsure of my voice. There was another, more insistent tap. "Walter?"

"Give me a minute." I was surprised to find that my voice was steady. My hands were shaking, but my voice was steady. How much sense does that make.

"Are you all right?"

"Ray, please! When a guy runs into a bathroom, he needs a little time to himself, okay?"

"Oh. Sorry."

I managed to pull myself up, then flushed the toilet, washed my face, and rinsed my mouth out. When I opened the door, Ray was frowning anxiously. The first thing he did was feel my forehead. "I told you I'm all right, Mom."

"i thought I heard you being sick in there."

I looked down and straightened my cuffs, because I didn't want to be looking at him when I told him a lie, even one as tiny as this one. "I was a little sick. I think maybe that eclair I ate this afternoon might have maybe had a spoiled filling, but it tasted so good I ate it anyway."

The anxiety faded, and he smiled faintly. "I would've thought a farm boy would know the hazards of spoiled dairy products. Feeling better now?"

"Some. I may have to leave the party early, though, if it comes back."

He frowned again. "If it comes back, I'm taking you to the hospital. But if you got it out of your system, it shouldn't."

I stepped back out into the hall with Ray, and my gut clenched again. Flagg was standing at the living room entrance, calmly sipping his drink. When he saw me he called, "Well, you had us worried there, O'Reilly. We'd hate to lose your company so early in the evening. I'm looking forward to refreshing some memories." He stirred his drink with his fingertip. "Maybe reliving them." He took a sip, looking at me over the rim of the glass, and went back inside.

"I think I'll go see if Jessie needs anymore help."

As I started down the hall toward the kitchen, Ray again caught my arm. He whispered, "Walter, this isn't like you. What's wrong?"

"Please. I'm just... I'm not real comfortable with those people."

He nodded gravely. "I think I know what's wrong."

I looked at him warily. It was possible, I suppose, but somehow I didn't think so. I remembered the grief and rage he'd expressed in the hayloft, and the quiet intensity with which he'd tried to worm the name of my attacker out of me. I thought that if he really knew what the problem was, he'd be on top of Flagg right now, with his thumbs digging into the man's windpipe. "You do?"

"Yes. Walter, I swear to you that I had no idea I was going to run into Jocelyn tonight. And I wasn't the one who invited them back here--it was my mother. I think she's trying to court James, hoping that he'll see to it that I write an article that's favorable to Iselin."

He thinks I'm upset because his old girlfriend showed up. He thinks I'm jealous. I didn't know whether to be grateful, or to want to smack him. How could he imagine that I didn't trust him? He'd told me over and over, in so many ways, that I was the one he loved. Still, this was good. Things would be safer if he put my behavior down to jealousy. So I had to try to make sure he KEPT thinking it was nothing but my worrying about his old flame. "She's awful pretty."

He moved closer to me, squeezing my arm. "She's nothing to me, do you understand? Nothing but an old friend. God, that sounds cliched, but it's true."

"I believe you. But... but I'd just rather spend as little time around her as I can right now, okay? I don't want to be rude to my hosts, but..."

He shook his head. "Be rude, Walter. please be rude, if it makes you more comfortable. It isn't as if they're overflowing with concern for your feelings. You don't even have to come back, if you're not up to it. I could make your excuses."

"No. Jessie should have supper ready in a little while. I'm half responsible for it, so I want to see how it goes over." He's not going to back me into a hole. I won't let him have that kind of control over me--he'd enjoy it too much.

Jessie wasn't in the kitchen when I went back, and I just sort of stood there, not really knowing what to do. She came back in after a couple of seconds, and stopped short at the sight of me. "Walter, what are you doing back here? You should be out there with the muckity-mucks."

"Some of 'em are a little too mucky for my tastes, Jessie."

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I'd never come near the Iselins or most of their 'friends' if I didn't need a paycheck. Well, since you're here, you can make yourself useful. I have a chafing dish ready in the diningroom, so just bring along that pot of seafood melange, and I'll bring the rice."

I got a couple of pot holders and carried the shrimp and crab mixture into the dining room, pouring it carefully into the shiny pan that was sitting in the frame. Jessie lit a candle and pushed it under the pan, nodding. "There. If they don't lollygag too much longer, that should keep it hot."

"Jessie, what's melange mean?"

She shrugged. "I think it's French for 'mess'. If I just throw something together I and bake it, it's a casserole. If I cook it on top of the stove, it's a melange."

We went back into the kitchen, and she took the biscuits out of the oven and started piling them in a napkin lined basket. I heard a little bell tinkle in the dining room, and remembered that I'd seen a crystal hand bell sitting on the sideboard. Jessie rolled her eyes. "Her Ladyship is calling for her supper."

I stared at the door. "She's only a couple of yards away. Why doesn't she stick her head in and tell you?"

"Good God, Walter, converse with the help when it wasn't absolutely necessary? You'll never make an aristocrat, dear. Go on it and join the party." I started for the door that led to the dining room, but she stopped me and pointed me toward the hall. "Go around. We don't want Mrs. Iselin dying of mortification by having her social contacts realized that one of her guests has actually been in the kitchen."

"That is so silly," I grumbled.

She kissed my cheek. "Bless you for thinking that. Scoot."

I didn't scoot. I don't think I've scooted since I was about twelve, but I went ahead and made my way down the hall toward the other entrance to the dining room. When I entered Jessie was just going back out after depositing the biscuits, and Mrs. Iselin, as usual, was in mid-ramble. "...an absolute

treasure, don't know what we'd do without her, but of course you have to be careful that the domestics don't overstep their bounds. I know it sounds terribly elitist of me, but in this case I'm afraid it's true." I wondered what the voting public, most of 'em either without 'domestics', or else domestics themselves, would have thought of this.

She spotted me. "There you are, Walter." Usually I like people calling me by my first name--it seems friendlier. I got the feeling that Mrs. Iselin called me by my first name the way you'd call an animal by a single name--they just weren't important enough for a title or surname. "I asked after you. Didn't I ask after him, Ray?"

"You mentioned that if he retired early the seating would be simpler," said Ray tartly.

"Well, that doesn't mean I wasn't concerned, Raymond. No, I was quite worried about your friend, and of course there's absolutely no chance of doing seating according to etiquette, since there are an uneven number of men and women, though I think it would be nice if we all tried to sit boy-girl-boy-girl as much as possible. But let's all dig in, no need to stand on ceremony. Giselle, Jocelyn, help yourself."

They both picked up warm plates from the end of the sideboard. Giselle stared at the first dish. "My goodness. I've never seen anything that... orange."

"Oh, carrot salad!" Jocelyn sounded pleased. "Try some, Mrs. Coldstream, it's delicious, and it's good for you--vitamin A in the carrots, vitamin C in the pineapple, and iron in the raisins."

"What about the dressing?" she said dubiously.

"That's to make it taste good."

I was starting to like Jocelyn, even if she WAS Ray's old girlfriend. She seemed a lot more down-to-earth than most of the other people I'd met so far in Boston.

I got behind Ray at the buffet. I should have gotten in front of him, because Flagg got behind me again. He didn't stand as close, and he didn't touch me, because there were too many people around, and they were all turning around to speak to each other. And the bastard TALKED to me.

"How's your appetite, O'Reilly?."

Ray glanced back, so I couldn't just ignore him. "It's okay."

"Really? I would have thought that you'd be ravenous after nothing but army chow for so long." He eyed Ray. "I would have thought that you wouldn't be able to get enough of home cooking."

I sure didn't want to eat now, but I knew that Ray would notice if I didn't, so I took a little of everything. I was hoping I could just sort of stir it around on my plate. I silently asked my Mom to forgive me for letting good food go to waste, but I wasn't going to be able to eat more than a few bites without choking.

I managed to avoid having Flagg sit next to me. He was getting such a kick out of watching me squirm that I knew he would have tried. I sat right at the end on my side, though. Mrs. Iselin was at the foot of the table, and Ray sat on my other side while Flagg was still filling his plate, so he had to settle for sitting across from me.

You're supposed to talk to the people sitting next to you at these fancy parties, but Mrs. Iselin talked past me and Ray to Mrs. and Mr. Coldstream. That didn't bother me much, because I could pretend I wasn't trying to make conversation with Flagg because it would be rude to cut across my hostess's conversation.

He passed a few words with Jocelyn, who was sitting on his other side, but he spent most of the supper looking at me. Every time I accidentally looked at him he was staring right back, making a show of licking his lips. I began to think that these people must be blind not to notice the way he was acting. I figured out later that I was kind of right. They didn't expect that type of behavior from a man, directed at another man, so they just didn't recognize it. I think Ray would have, but Flagg was good at presenting a bland face when anyone else was looking. I already knew that from the MASH. No one knew what he was capable of till after he attacked me.

I got through the supper without drawing attention to myself. Then they were going to retire to the living room for a little more conversation, I think. By then it was past one am. I didn't know how those people could do it, but it gave me a reason to leave. I just made the excuse that I wasn't used to such late hours, after all my time on the farm, and went up to my room. My good-bye to the Gaineses was a little cooler than I would have liked it to be, but I couldn't very well be warm to them, then snub Flagg. It wouldn't have drawn attention.

Up in my room I quickly stripped off everything but my pants and underwear, but I automatically locked the door after myself, as Ray had suggested. Then I flopped down on the bed and tried to get my heart and breathing to slow back down to normal. I'd done it. I'd faced Flagg down, and I hadn't crumbled, exploded, or run.

I heard a step in the hallway, and my doorknob turned. I propped myself up on my elbow and called softly, "They all gone, Ray?" I was anxious to get Ray into my room and into my bed. I knew that with his arms wrapped around me I'd feel safe again. There was no answer. "Ray?"

"Soldier." My blood froze. "Why don't you come open the door, and we'll have a private talk?

"Go away."

"O'Reilly, O'Reilly. You ought to know that a little lock like this one won't keep me out of somewhere if I really want in. Didn't you learn that back in Korea? You could make things so much simpler if you'd just open the door. Nothing is going to happen--now. Goodness no, not with all those nice, stupid people downstairs. Be a good boy and open the door." I didn't move, I didn't speak. I heard a sigh, but his voice wasn't disappointed. He almost sounded pleased. "Stubborn as ever. You know, I'll bet that this room has a bath that connects to the next room..."

My eyes flashed to the open bathroom door, and through it, the door that opened into Ray's room. I sprang off the bed and slammed the door shut, thanking God that it could only be unlocked by the person on the side where it had been locked. I heard Flagg laugh. He knew exactly what I was doing.

I heard more footsteps, then Ray's voice. "Flagg? What are you doing?"

Flagg's voice sounded like it was approaching, and I realized what he had done--he had heard Ray coming and hurried down the hall, then pretended to be coming toward the stairs. "Just thought I'd go that extra mile on my job and run a quick sweep. Everything seems to be in order. Lovely evening. My thanks. It's good to have you along for the ride on this campaign, Lieutenant. I didn't expect to see anyone I knew from overseas when I came back to the states, and here I've met two in one place. Isn't life funny?"

"Hilarious. And I'm not a Lieutenant any more, Flagg. I'm out of the military."

"None of use are ever really out, Shaw. We carry our military experiences with us forever. They never leave us."

"I hope to God that isn't true. Good night."

"Good night."

I pressed my ear to the door, and heard steps on the stairs. A moment later I heard Ray enter his room. I went and opened the bathroom door to find him reaching for the knob. He looked a little startled, but pleased. "Well, Walter, how did you like your first upper society to-do?"

"I hated it like poison." Then I stepped up to Ray, wrapped my arms around him, kissed him, and let him begin to flood me with warmth to combat the cold that had settled over me since the first moment I had once again looked into those blank yellow eyes.