Her name was Julie. She was first cousin to Diane Carson, my bride-to-be. I had known Julie since childhood, but a week before my wedding, I learned that I did not know her at all.
I was at a party thrown by Diane's mother Nina at the Carson's lakeside manor. It was not to celebrate our wedding, just a family and friends get-together. The Carsons were never happier than when surrounded by their extended family, eating, drinking, and dancing. At the slightest excuse, or sometimes for no reason at all, Nina would decide to have a party.
I was in high spirits that day. The son of a hardware store owner, I was marrying into one of the most prominent families in coastal Georgia. The Carsons owned farmland, the odd bank or two, even a small textile factory. But they wore the mantle of wealth with ease. They were gregarious and down to earth people. I never met a Carson I didn't like.
We young people were playing the new music, rock 'n roll, on the Carson's jukebox. We danced to Elvis, the Coasters, and our favorite, Jerry Lee Lewis. Over and over we played Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.
The day started out sunny, but by mid-afternoon was dark and threatening. It began to sprinkle rain, so Nina asked me to go down to the boat dock to help William, Diane's nephew, tie up his canoe. After we had secured the canoe, William hurried back to the house but I stayed behind. And just like that the heavens opened, releasing a torrent of rain, a typical summer cloudburst. I began to run to the house, but decided to take shelter in a large gazebo near the manor until the worst of the rainstorm had passed.
I didn't realize until I sprinted up the gazebo steps that another person had had the same idea. It was Julie. Like me she was soaked, her white linen dress plastered to her skin. Her bra was plainly outlined, right down to the lace trim. I could even see where hooks held her hose to her garter belt.
As with most women in the Carson family, Julie had evocative brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and a mane of hair that could be dark or auburn, depending on how the light hit it. Two years younger than her cousin, Julie was more statuesque than Diane, her breasts more prominent. On the other hand, Diane's face was perhaps more expressive; her smile more friendly and warm. Julie's hips were full and round, but Diane's legs were a bit longer, more shapely. They were like any cousins, alike in many ways but different as well.
The rain peppered the shingle roof of the gazebo. Thunder crashed around us, and every few seconds the scene was brilliantly lit by a bolt of lightening. I shook the rain out of my sandy brown hair, saying "Wow, some storm, huh?"
I tried to brush the water off my clothes, and looked out into the storm. Just to make light conversation, I said, "Well, kiddo, have you got your bridesmaid dress picked out yet?"
Julie glanced around, realizing that we were alone, cut off from everyone by the sheets of rain. She gazed at me intently, as if she were weighing a decision that had to be made. The silence dragged on. Finally I said, "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"
I realized that she was trembling. Cold from the rain? I thought. No. In a low voice she said, "Sometimes, Gary Dillon, I hate you!"
"Me? What did I do?"
"You don't even know, do you?" She clutched her arms together under her ample bosom, as if that would somehow give her strength in this most critical moment of her young life.
"Haven't a clue." I said.
Her eyes brimming with tears, Julie suddenly grasped me by my arms, her look a mix of anger and despair and to my surprise, adoration.
"How can you marry Diane? Tell me!"
I laughed nervously. "What do you mean?"
She gazed into my eyes for several seconds. Then, "Don't you know I love you, Gary! I've worshiped you since the day I met you! Oh if you only knew the nights I've dreamed of you holding me and kissing me!"
The sounds of the storm seemed to fade away. Julie stood there trembling, a look of fierce intensity on her face. I gaped at her, my mouth open in astonishment, amazed by the primal intensity of the woman.
Time seemed to stand still. I finally found my voice, saying, "Julie, are you serious?" But of course she was. Women do not joke about that. Especially women with the pain and hunger that I saw in Julie's eyes.
"Oh you damn fool! I wanted you! I love you so much, Gary! You're the only man I've ever wanted! And now you're marrying Diane! Oh, it isn't fair! Dammit, how could you!"
Tears flooding down her cheeks now, Julie turned and ran out into the rain. She slipped and fell, getting mud and grass stains on her dress, but quickly got up and sprinted to the house. It was as if she were running from the devil himself.
Stunned by what had taken place, I waited in the gazebo until the storm began to abate, then went to the house. Nina insisted that I change into some of her husband's clothes, which were more or less a fit. I did not see Julie for the rest of the day. Just before dark Diane drove me home in her father's black 1958 Cadillac.
Diane was wearing a pale blue sweater, almost see-through, matching in color the ribbons in her hair. Man she's gorgeous, I thought. I wanted her, counting the hours until she was mine to have and to hold. We had given our virginity up to each other two years ago in the back seat of my dad's 1952 Plymouth. Other sexual trysts had followed, but they were always hurried and uncomfortable. I wanted Diane all night and every night. I wanted to savor, slowly and fully, all the pleasures that she had to offer a man.
I casually worked Julie into our conversation. "Guess your cousin Julie got caught in that rain, too, huh?"
"Oh yes, she was a mess! She was crying too, 'cause she had fallen and ruined her dress. I felt so sorry for her. But we found some of my sister Ellen's clothes that she could change into."
"Who's her escort for the wedding, by the way?"
"My second cousin Harold, I think."
"Doesn't Julie have a boyfriend?"
Diane paused. "Not really. She goes out now and then, but nothing serious. Lotta guys will ask her out and she turns them down for no reason. It's almost as if she's waiting for the right guy to come along, you know what I mean?"
That night I lay in bed but sleep did not come. Diane, Julie and I had grown up as part of a clique that did everything together: Halloween parties, hayrides and picnics, boating and swimming in the Caloosa River. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how Julie had always been around me.
When I was 14 and Julie 11, she had insisted that I be her partner on a canoe trip down the Caloosa. Once on a hiking trip she had sprained her ankle, and would allow no one but me to carry her piggyback down to the trailhead. I recalled a hayride in which she had lain almost as close to me as Diane, whom I had my arm around. Even as children playing tag, Julie had always chased just one person, me, when she was it.
By the time the gray light of dawn appeared, there could be no doubt. Julie had circled around me, wishing and hoping, and perhaps loving, for years. But unfortunately, her star was dim, too close to Diane's blinding radiance. I had never seen it.
CHAPTER 2
