by Sandra Brown
Last night! Lauri was furious. As Betty launched into her favorite subject, Drake glanced at her and smiled wickedly. He knew he had intimated that they had spent the night together, and not in separate rooms. She fumed as she slammed cabinet doors getting Betty's cup of sugar.
Betty finally took her leave, promising Drake that she and Sam and Sally would be back later in the day to take their sign lesson. For once Lauri was glad to see her neighbor leaving. She was highly irritated by Betty's fawning over Drake and his subtle suggestions that their relationship was what Betty had at first suspected and which Lauri had vehemently denied.
"While you and Jennifer are in the classroom this morning, I'll unpack my stuff." Lauri had noted there was another car parked in the driveway next to the Mercedes. Drake explained that he had rented it and would return it to Albuquerque when she and Jennifer could spare a day to go with him and drive him back.
She had started Jennifer on a project in the classroom when Drake appeared in the doorway. "Lauri, the closets in that room were built for Munchkin clothes. Can you spare me some space in one of the closets in the master bedroom?"
She looked at him suspiciously. "Is this a ruse, or do you really need the space?"
"I really need the space," he said with the guilelessness of a saint. Then flashed her a brilliant smile that dimpled his cheek. An actor. He could conjure up any expression or mood on a whim. But in spite of herself she smiled back.
"One of the closets is empty except for some boxes stacked at one end. I'll move them, if you like."
"Don't touch them," he snapped.
She was already getting out of the chair that was on the same low level as Jennifer's. She jerked her head up at his harsh tone and saw that his face had lost its previous radiance. It was set in firm, unyielding lines. When he saw her stunned surprise, he said quietly, "Some of Susan's things are packed in them. Leave them alone."
Lauri went frigidly cold. For excruciating seconds everything in the world stopped, only to start revolving again – but without enthusiasm, belatedly, and laboriously.
"Of course, Drake," she stammered. "I only—"
She was talking to air. When she looked up, the doorway was empty.
* * *
It was usual for Lauri and Jennifer to stay in the classroom all morning except for a brief break when Jennifer ate a snack. Lauri used this time for teaching as well. Jennifer learned the names and tastes of different foods.
One week they would study cherries. She learned the sign, the written word, and in speech class Lauri would teach her the sounds. She would have cherry Jell-O, cherry juice, cherry candy. She learned to associate a particular taste and smell with the name.
When Lauri and Jennifer left the classroom that day shortly after noon, Drake had already fixed them a lunch of sandwiches and soup. Sitting on the table amidst place mats and napkins was a fluffy pink stuffed bunny. Jennifer squealed and dashed across the room, clutching the toy with rapture.
"I think you've scored a hit," Lauri said.
"I thought she'd like it," Drake smiled at his daughter. Lauri knelt down beside Jennifer. "What is your bunny's name?"
Jennifer looked at her blankly. She stroked the bunny's exaggerated, floppy ears and mumbled. Lauri spelled out Bunny.
Jennifer nodded and laughed, forming the letter signs with her short fingers and thumping the bunny on the head.
"I think he's been dubbed," Drake said.
He remained loving and gentle with Jennifer, but aloof to Lauri. He was moody and quiet during the meal.
What had she expected? Inadvertently she had reminded him of Susan and that had triggered his depression. She had often seen Paul go into a shell and brood about the house for days like Hamlet or some other tragic hero. Paul's bad mood had forced her to calculate each word, weigh everything she said or did in fear of offending his tenuous self-esteem.
Well, she wasn't going to get into that rut again. She gave Jennifer her total attention and ignored Drake. When Betty and her children came over later in the afternoon for their sign class, Drake joined them around the kitchen table.
He was a different person from the sulking figure who had served lunch. He clowned and joked; his smile was winning; his eyes twinkled with mirth. How could he change so drastically within a matter of hours?
Then Lauri remembered his craft: that's what he was paid to do. He could switch emotions as quickly as one could change clothes. Paul could appear sober and energetic when he was meeting an agent or a record producer, then sink into a fathomless depression on the way home.
She didn't like these sudden shifts in Drake's moods; they made her wonder which person was real. How much could she trust anything he said? Anything he did? When he kissed her, was it real to him or was he only playing a love scene? She had seen him kiss the actress in the studio, and it had been most convincing.
She resolved never to let it happen to her again. Their embraces meant nothing to him, but to her they were vitally important. And the importance she was assigning them was frightening.
These thoughts lingered in her mind as she conducted the sign class. Little did she realize that she had been staring at Drake for long moments, and he was aware of it. When she shook herself out of her reverie, his eyes were on her. She tried to look away, but was held by his magnetism. Her russet eyes focused on him, and for a fleeting second, she knew he read her longing in them.
He signed, I haven't forgotten the freckles. His eyes dropped unerringly to her breasts and Lauri felt a ridiculous compulsion to cover them with her hands.
She blushed and looked quickly at Betty and the children, hoping that they hadn't seen or understood. They were involved in a discussion about buying new shoes.
Involuntarily her head swiveled back to Drake, whose lips were curved in an insolent smile under the mustache. Do you have any others I should know about? he signed.
No! she answered emphatically with a shake of her head.
I'd like to look for myself, he signed with a command of the language that was suddenly disconcerting. He was becoming far too adept at this form of communication. But he didn't even need his hands to transmit his thoughts. His eyes signaled the message.
She glanced at the others, but the children were naming the animals in a book, and Betty was looking up a word in the sign dictionary.
Will you stop this? Lauri demanded silently with her hands.
Will you let me search for all those secret places of your body? And when I find them, will you let me touch them? Kiss them?
Heat washed over her like a scalding flood. Her heart pounded in her chest and stirred the T-shirt that covered it. Drake saw that agitation and stared at her breasts as they rose and fell rapidly with her unsteady breathing. His eyes came back to hers, and his eyebrows prompted an answer by arching over his eye in a sharp curve.
No! She shook her head, licking her lips nervously. The motion intrigued him as he watched her tongue disappear into her mouth. His look told her he would like to follow it with his own.
Then I'll just have to fantasize about all those hidden places, he signed, and the emerald eyes impaled her as if they were doing just that. I have a vivid imagination.
Lauri was grateful when Jennifer distracted her by tugging on her arm. "Auwy, Auwy," she said and pointed down to her tennis shoe, which had become untied.
"Yes," Lauri said absently and turned away. "Auwy," Jennifer said with more determination and a touch of petulance.
Lauri only looked down at the shoe and nodded, but did nothing and became busy with stacking the books they had used for the lesson.
"Auwy!" This time the tugging on Lauri's arm was demanding and Jennifer's voice was high and whining.
"She wants you to tie her shoe," Drake said impatiently.
Lauri looked at him with composure, though she didn't appreciate his interference in what she considered to be her domain.
"I know what she wants, Drake. I want her to ask me to tie her shoe in a c
omplete sentence."
"Is that always necessary?" he asked. The harsh tone of his voice indicated that he didn't think so.
"Do you want her to learn to talk or do you want her to go around pointing at things and grunting all her life?" she fired back at him. The lines around his mouth tightened, but he didn't say anything more.
Jennifer was on the verge of tears and still tugging at Lauri's arm. Sam and Sally and Betty stared at this tense scene. For once none of them had anything to say.
"Let's go on with the lesson," Lauri said calmly and continued to ignore Jennifer except for glancing down at the shoe and nodding in confirmation that it was indeed untied.
Jennifer, in a fit of temper, fell to the floor, kicked the leg of Lauri's chair, and buried her golden head in her arms.
"Sam, tell us about your puppy in sign," Lauri instructed. "What color is he?"
Sam looked down at Jennifer in sympathy and then glanced uncertainly at his mother. She nodded at him and he started hesitant motions that told the others about his dog. His heart wasn't in it. Indeed, everyone was distracted by the little girl on the floor who was whimpering pathetically.
"Lauri, for God's sake—" Drake started just as Jennifer rose abruptly and stood beside Lauri's chair again.
Lauri, tie my shoe, the child signed. When Lauri still didn't move, Jennifer rubbed her chest in a circular motion in the sign for please. Please, Jennifer added.
Lauri smiled, picked her up into her lap, and hugged her hard. "I want to tie your shoe, Jennifer. But you must ask me. How will I know what you want if you don't ask me?" Jennifer had understood the signs and she flung her chubby arms around Lauri's neck. When she pulled away, she signed, I love you, Lauri, and said her teacher's name.
I love you too, Lauri signed and kissed the top of Jennifer's head.
Betty and the children seemed immensely relieved and started chattering at once. Drake said nothing, but Lauri met his eyes over his daughter's head. The green eyes seemed challenging and vaguely envious. But in Lauri's eyes her message was clear: Don't interfere again.
* * *
When the next clash came a few days later, it carried even greater force than the first.
Lauri had written a letter to her parents right after breakfast. She wanted to get it in the mailbox before the postman came. Explaining to Jennifer that they would start classes later that morning, she sent her up to her room to play. Drake was puttering around in the backyard.
Lauri finished her letter, put it in the mailbox, and went upstairs to fetch Jennifer who, she suddenly realized, had been mysteriously invisible and extraordinarily quiet for the last half hour.
Jennifer wasn't in her room, and Lauri knew she wasn't downstairs. As she went into her bedroom she could hear soft murmurings coming from the bathroom. Stepping through the door, she gasped at the sight that greeted her.
Jennifer had opened each container of Lauri's makeup, sampled it, applied it to her own face, and then left it opened and ravished on the dressing table. Her cherub face looked like an artist's palette. Eyeshadows, eyebrow pencils, and mascara had all been applied to her eyes in ghastly quantities. Her cheeks and forehead were painted with blushers, lip glosses, and makeup bases in varying shades. Lotions, creams, and powders were either smeared or dusted over the marble top of the dressing table, creating a disgusting, if fragrant, mess.
When Jennifer saw Lauri's face in the mirror, she knew that playtime was over. Unsuccessfully she tried to recap ajar of night cream that she had liberally applied to her knees. Vainly she picked up a Kleenex and tried to clean off the dressing table. When she made no progress, but only managed to spread the mess to a larger area, her bottom lip began to tremble, and she looked up at her teacher suppliantly.
"Jennifer," Lauri said sternly, "this was naughty! It was bad, and I am mad at you!" As she signed the words she stressed them, making sure the little girl understood. "Do you know why I am mad at you?" she asked.
Jennifer nodded her head and began to sob with shame.
Lauri made her look at her. "I'm going to spank you so you'll remember next time not to bother someone else's things. Do you want me to mess up your room? Do you want me to break your toys?"
Jennifer shook her head.
Lauri led her over to the commode, sat down on it, and bent the child over her knees. She swatted her bottom three times with the palm of her hand. Jennifer was crying in earnest now.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Drake demanded from the doorway.
Lauri raised Jennifer up and tried to hug her, but the child ran out of her arms and into the sympathetic embrace of her father, who was glaring at Lauri.
She said calmly, "I should think that would be readily apparent. I'm giving Jennifer a well-deserved spanking."
"Don't ever spank her again," he commanded curtly as he continued to pat the child's back. She sobbed into his shoulder.
"I certainly will, and I'll thank you not to come along and rescue her when I do."
"She can't understand why you're spanking her."
"Of course she can!" Lauri protested, now growing angry. "Do you think I'd let her get by with something like this without punishment? Where would it stop?"
He had returned Jennifer to her feet and stood facing Lauri with his hands on his hips. "What are you? Some kind of sadist? Do you get your kicks from beating up on little handicapped kids?"
Lauri had never been so livid in her life and she felt the heat of fury filling her body even as her face drained of all color. "You pompous ass," she hissed through clenched teeth. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing." She took a step forward with her hand drawn back, fully intending to slap him. "How dare—"
She was diverted by Jennifer, who was tugging on Lauri's jean leg. "Auwy," she pleaded. Lauri glanced down and saw that Jennifer was holding up a tube of lipstick that had been wiped clean and whose cap had been replaced. The child signed I'm sorry.
Lauri forgot Jennifer's father and knelt down to hug the little girl to her. She brushed back the tangled curls from the tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry it happened too. Will you help me clean it up?" she asked, and Jennifer nodded eagerly and began by picking up the discarded, soiled tissues that littered the carpet.
Lauri stood up and faced Drake squarely, ready to resume her tirade, but his face had changed. He wasn't challenging her. He wasn't angry. He was watching his daughter. Slowly he raised his eyes to Lauri.
They communicated something she couldn't decipher. She read in the green depths a glimmer of understanding. He knew her purpose, and had more or less recognized her objectives. Total comprehension was beyond him, however, and he searched her face, her eyes, for that element that eluded his grasp.
Too soon, he seemed embarrassed by this uncommon susceptibility. She saw the veil slip over his eyes before he hurriedly looked away. "I'll leave you ladies alone," he murmured as he left the room.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
For the next several days there were no major upheavals. Lauri continued to conduct Jennifer's lessons in the mornings while Drake conveniently made himself scarce.
Lauri was glad to see that the tired lines around his eyes were gradually fading, and he seemed more relaxed than when he had arrived. He no longer wore the European cut coats and monogrammed shirts. Instead, his uniform was a pair of faded jeans that did nothing to hide, but rather enhanced, his virility. Western shirts and cowboy boots acclimated him into the mountain village like one of the natives.
He teased her and prodded her with innuendos, but made no more overt advances. She told herself she was relieved. But sometimes she resented his ability to disregard her while she was increasingly aware of him.
Late one morning Betty volunteered to take Jennifer and her two children on a picnic. Lauri was thankful for the break and knew that Jennifer would enjoy an outing. Without a moment's hesitation she put Jennifer in Betty's care.
A walk through the woods may not b
e such a bad idea, Lauri mused as she nibbled on a sandwich for lunch. The autumn weather was bracing, and the aspen trees were in their full golden glory. She decided to take advantage of the day.
As she passed the laundry room on her way out, she heard Drake whistling softly. She stuck her head in the door to tell him she was leaving but stared in astonishment when she saw what he was doing.
"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped.
At the sound of her voice, he turned around and grinned a greeting. "Hello. Where's Jennifer?"
"She's gone on a picnic with Betty," she answered absently. Then pulled herself upright and asked again with biting tones. "What do you think you're doing?" He was holding one of her sheer, glossy brassieres in his hand.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked sarcastically, enunciating each word. "I'm sorting the laundry. This is a democratic household. I intend to do my share of the labor." He held up the bra by the straps and studied it with a knit brow.
"But – put down— Those are my—" She was so undone by his handling her intimate apparel that she couldn't complete a thought.
"Well, I didn't think they were Jennifer's," he scoffed. "And I knew damn well they weren't mine." He studied the label on the garment. "'Dusty rose.' Now why didn't they just name it pink? And these," he reached for a pair of sheer, scanty panties, "are 'daffodil.' Why not just yellow? It's easier to spell."
"Will you please stop fondling my underwear like some pervert!" she cried. "I will wash my own things."
"Don't worry, Lauri," he said with irritating condescension. "I know not to wash them in the machine. I even know to wash them in cold water with a mild detergent. Have you forgotten that I'm on a soap opera? I didn't stay with that show for seven years without learning something!" He was making fun of her, and she stamped her foot in irritation.
"Drake—" she ground out threateningly.
He was looking at the tag on the bra again. "Thirty-four B. That's not very big, is it?" he asked. His eyes rested on her breasts and appraised them clinically. If he had actually touched her, she couldn't have felt the impact any stronger. "But then," he continued objectively. "I guess you'd look funny with great big ones. You'd probably fall over from having to carry them around."