Chapter 12

It was Friday night, the moon was full and shone down brightly from a clear Alabama sky. Boyd Dunston hummed happily to himself as he turned off the main street and headed for home at ten p.m. He'd had two appointments that evening, and had sold them both, a $10,000 straight life policy to the last, and a $5,000 endowment on a new baby at the first one.

The old touch wasn't gone, after all. He still had it. The knowledge made him doubly glad, for these were the only policies he'd sold all week. Ever since that damned party, six days ago, he'd been worried sick. His guts had ached so bad at times that he was sure he was developing an ulcer. Faith's strangeness had kept him upset, unable to think about anything else.

The party had done something to her, changed her somehow. All Sunday, the day after the party, she'd kept to her bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom occasionally, not even bothering to eat. She wouldn't talk to him at all, except to give him a sharp "leave me alone," when he tried to cheer her up. And during the week it was little better. The housework went undone for the most part. She seemed to have no interest at all in making a home for them any more. He suspected that she was spending her time with Lucia, the daylight hours that she had to herself. He'd asked her about it several times, and had gotten nothing but an enigmatic smile for an answer.

And sex, or rather the absence of it, had crushed him most of all. Faith wouldn't let him get near her, let alone touch her. She'd never treated him that way before, never. Right from their honeymoon on she'd been eager to see that he got all the loving he wanted. Even when she wasn't fully in the mood, why, she still gave herself gladly and seemed to enjoy the fact that he found satisfaction through her body. But not this week.

The goddamned party had changed all that. After Sunday she was civil to him, but insisted on a hands off policy until, as she said, "I regain my sense of balance and perspective." It had been torture for Boyd, living in the same house with her and not being able to touch her, kiss her, hug her. At night, lying side by side in bed, that was the worst. Like brother and sister, he'd thought, and knew that it couldn't go on that way for long.

But now, now it was over, and Faith was coming around. What a difference there'd been when he came home for supper. The house was neat and clean again, like a home, like their home had always been. He'd known then, the moment he walked in the front door, that Faith had found her balance, that she was once again his wife, that things would be right between them.

In the kitchen, she'd smiled sweetly at him and left her work to warmly embrace him, had poured him a cup of coffee and set him down at the table to await the meal. They'd talked, neither of them mentioning the party or the days since, while she added the finishing touches to the dessert. He'd watched her, beaming as she moved about in her frilly dress and open-toed sandals. She was the old Faith once more, the sweet, angelic girl he loved.