Slowly, as Kathy slept she returned to full cognizance. The rock and roll music was blaring up from the people-crowded valley below, vibrating the beams of the rustic cabin, filling every corner with inescapable sound. Robert, Mark, Lydia, and even Jim had left now, anxious to get down into the crowd and mill around with their friends. And hopefully, to find out what happened with Chuck. Had the U-Haul truck made it to its destination?
Kathy groaned on the mattress. Her hair was disheveled and she wore no make-up. Yet she looked more beautiful than ever, Art told himself. She had picked up the remnants of her clothing and hung it on her body, in an attempt at modesty.
Hesitantly, she raised her head, her eyes meeting Art's. Frightened of Art, sure of what he would think of her, she looked but did not speak. He had seen her debauched, degraded, subjected to the most vile outrages by a gang of fourteen year old children. Certainly, he would want nothing to do with her. Kathy brushed a tear from her eyes, then lowered them, afraid to look at her husband. He was so good, so fine, so decent; so far above passion. And even though he had succumbed to Lydia's temptations, that had been only once – and surely a man was entitled to that. Whereas a woman never was, and certainly not to the extent that Kathy had, indulging in every perversion, every excess known. Kathy caught a sob in her throat, then edged towards the edge of the mattress.
He spoke to her quietly, "Kathy."
She glanced at him, under half closed eye lids. Why was he acting like this? Surely he must hate her. How could he help it, after what she had done? In anguish, she buried her face in her hands and began to weep.
"Kathy?" Art's voice was gentle as the winds.
"Yes?"
He crossed the room and took her hands in his. "Everything's all right, Kathy. Everything's different."
Kathy could no longer suppress her sobs. "Yes," she said, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Everything's different… I'm sorry, Art. I still love you, Art. But I don't blame you if you don't want me now."
She turned to hide her face, but Art caught her wrists.
"I don't know how to say this to you, how to explain. I feel I've been such an ass all my life, leaving you alone at night, not giving you a family, not making love to you when you needed me to."
"You mean you really think I'm still a desirable woman," Kathy sobbed.
"You sure are, Kathy. I've wanted to fuck you, Kathy, good and hard like the boys did to you, but somehow I guess I felt too old, over the hill, as they say," admitted Art.
Kathy's eyes opened wide again. Was this her Art, the man she'd married eight years ago? If it was, she had never known him to be so gentle. And now she realized she hadn't much liked the man she had known. She would get along beautifully with this Art.
"Kathy, I've been thinking about it," started Art, his finger tracing the stripes of the mattress. "You know, I'm getting tired of this hunt and chase kind of life we've been leading. You think I'm too old to start a family, Kathy."
She averted her eyes once more, staring at the wall. Her tears now were from happiness. "Oh Art, do you know how long I've been waiting to hear that?"
He grinned. "Oh, by the way just in case you're interested – they busted Chuck last night."
"Chuck?"
"Yeah, the guy who had bribed these kids into kidnapping you. He got stopped for drunken driving… simple as that. Bust is made. Another case settled."