Free Brother and Sister by Edwin West Page B

it out for herself. She had been ready to sleep with him, that one time. Was she ready to sleep with him now? Was she ready to sleep with anybody now?
     
    She didn’t know. She was afraid, of course -- afraid of the act itself and of what it meant. And she was curious, more than curious. Actually, she was fascinated by the idea of sleeping with a man. But she didn’t know whether or not she was ready now, as she had thought herself ready that night with Bob.
     
    She tried to imagine that Bob was in the bed with her. She thought back to the little she knew of the sex act, Tried to visualize herself and Bob doing it. His body atop hers, her legs adjusting themselves to receive him, His face looming over hers a nd--
     
    She shut her eyes in sudden terror, turning spasmodically onto her side, and lay shaking with awe and fear beneath the single sheet.
     
    For in her imagining, and quite without plan or warning, the face that had seemed to be above her in her make-believe had not been Bob’s face.
     
    It had been Paul’s. It had been the face of her brother, Paul!
     

 
    SIX
     
    Paul didn’t want to go to the lawyer’s office. He didn’t want to have anything to do with lawyers or Uncle James or anybody else. All he wanted was to be left alone, to live quietly in hiss home and be left completely alone.
     
    But it wasn’t to be that way. He had to go down to see Uncle James and this Goddamn lawyer, Jake McDougall, and maybe now he could get the whole thing taken care of once and for all.
     
    In one way, he was sorry Angie was coming with him, and in another way, he was glad of it. He was sorry that Angie had to be exposed to this sort of thing, but at the same time he knew that she was a calming influence on him, that she would keep him from flying off the handle and maybe doing something stupid that would only hurt his chances of keeping the house.
     
    But what did he mean, chances? It was his house, wasn’t it? He had a Manila envelope containing the paper s-- the property deed, various papers from the city assessment office and other papers -- which proved conclusively that the house had belonged to his father. And he was his father’s heir, so the house went to him. There just wasn’t any question of it.
     
    Then why did he feel so nervous?
     
    Because, Goddamn him, Uncle James had something up his sleeve. Him and the lawyer. Paul knew it, he was sure of it. Uncle James was older than he was, and he had more money, and he knew a lot more about skating the edge of the law. If there was any sort of loophole he could use to get the house away from Paul, he’d be the one to know about it. He or the lawyer.
     
    He remembered the lawyer, vaguely, from the time Dad had been sued by that man who’d slipped on the icy sidewalk. And he also remembered that it had been Uncle James who had recommended him, saying, “You see Jake McDougall. He can fix anything up for you.”
     
    And he’d done it, too. Dad hadn’t had to pay.
     
    Uncle James was probably pretty sure that Jake McDougall could fix this up, too. And for all Paul knew, he was right.
     
    He didn’t want to go and that was the truth. He almost turned back half a dozen times. But he knew Angie was right. The best thing to do was go and see the lawyer and settle the matter.
     
    But they weren’t going to get the house. No matter what, he was sure of that much. Uncle James was not ever going to get his hands on the house.
     
    Jake McDougall had his office in a building on Thornbridge’s one downtown street. It was the Merchants & Manufacturers Trust Co. Building, with the bank on the two-story-high main floor, and offices on the eight floors above. Jake McDougall’s office was on the seventh floor.
     
    McDougall was unusual for a lawyer in a suburb like Tbornbridge-- he wasn’t part of a firm, he was simply the one-man operation, plus secretary, in a three-room suite of offices. Paul seemed to vaguely remember hearing that Jake McDougall had