it is august 14th , 1965 , a day that was , a day that still is in the mind of a dreaming woman handcuffed to a bed in a house on the shore of a lake forty miles south of dark score ( but with the same mineral smell , that nasty , evocative smell , on hot , still summer days ) , and although the twelve-year-old girl she was does n't see will creeping up behind her as she bends over to address her croquet ball , turning her bottom into a target simply too tempting for a boy who has only lived one year for each inning in a baseball game to ignore , part of her mind knows he is there , and that this is the seam where the dream has been basted to the nightmare .