Page 20 of The Banned Books Club
But he knew all he’d be able to think about tonight—and maybe every night while Gia was in town—was the fact that she was staying in the house right behind him.
There was even a gate between the two yards...
6
“Ilovedthis book,” Ruth said, a worn copy of Stephen King’sCujoat her elbow.
Gia would’ve preferred to have snagged a table on the upstairs patio of Harmony House. In the warmer months, it was fun to hang out there in the evenings, where you could look down on the main drag and watch the activity on the street. But the patio was already closed for the season. When they met up at the entrance of the restaurant after Ida and Leo had gone to bed, she and her friends had found a booth on the first floor, where they could listen to the music—which wasn’t live on Thursdays but was still a good mix of everything from the eighties to present day—and order a few “small plates” and some drinks.
“I guess I’m not much of a horror reader.” Sammie, who was sitting on the same side as Ruth, was notably less thrilled with their most recent read. “If you’d told me before I read it that I’d ever find a Saint Bernard frightening, I wouldn’t have believed you. But holy hell! I’ll never look at that breed the same way again. This booktotallyfreaked me out.”
Gia finished off the last of the sliders. “It was supposed to freak you out. That’s the whole point of a horror novel.”
Ruth sipped her old-fashioned. “My only complaint was that the whole thing felt a bit...dated.”
“Well, itwaswritten in 1981,” Gia pointed out, “before cell phones and the internet. I was amazed by how well it withstood the test of time.”
“I wonder where Stephen King got the idea for this book...” Sammie said.
“He had to visit a mechanic one night in rural Maine,” Ruth told her. “It was in the middle of nowhere, and when he got there, he was greeted by a Saint Bernard who didnottake a liking to him.”
Sammie dipped a French fry in ketchup. “No kidding?”
“No kidding. I looked it up.”
“You didn’t find the story upsetting?” Sammie asked. “I mean... I could see why some people would want to have it banned. Especially back then. What message could there be in it?”
“I don’t think there needs to be a message,” Gia replied. “A horror novel is simply meant to entertain. But it could be that King was trying to say that the greatest thing to fear is fear itself.”
“Is that what Mr. Hart told you when we were in high school?” Ruth asked.
Surprised by the mention of their former teacher, Gia, who’d just picked up her drink, set it back down. She couldn’t remember discussing this particular book with their old teacher. But he’d also loved Stephen King, so maybe he’d told her about it. “I don’t think so. Franklin D. Roosevelt said it during the Great Depression.”
Sammie shot Ruth a dirty look, no doubt for bringing up Mr. Hart, and Ruth covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I wasn’t thinking.”
Although Ruth was claiming it was merely a gaffe, Gia suspected it wasn’t. That she was back in Wakefield made what’d happened their senior year top of mind, so she couldn’t really blame Ruth for addressing the elephant in the room. “It’s fine.” She waved away the apology. “The dude wasn’tallbad.”
As a matter of fact, in many ways Mr. Hart had been very good. That was the worst part. She’d loved him as a teacher—admired him, trusted him and listened to what he had to say.
Sammie looked concerned. “What do you think he’s going to do when he learns you’re in town?”
“What can he do?” Gia asked.
Ruth toyed with the condensation on her glass. “I bet he feels bad for what he did.”
Gia wasn’t convinced. If he felt any remorse—true remorse—he wouldn’t have tried to make her look like a vengeful liar. “If he feels bad, it’s only because he got caught.”
“He still claims he didn’t do anything wrong,” Ruth said.
The memory of him inviting her to walk down to his house when his family was at the high school baseball game—and what he’d done while she was there—made Gia slightly nauseous. Unable to continue eating, she pushed her plate to the side. “How do you know? Do you ever talk to him?”
“Not more than a hello or a nod in passing,” Ruth told her. “But his youngest daughter—Edith—is in our spin class.”
Gia shifted her gaze to Sammie. “You didn’t mention that.”
“We just work out together,” Sammie was quick to say. “We don’t ever really have a conversation.”
“Apparently, she talks to Ruth.” Gia used her straw to stir her spicy jalapeno gimlet. “What has she been saying, Ruth?”
