The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  “No, Mr. Davis. I think that dog done run off!” He whistled through his teeth as he reached up and adjusted the brim of his hat. “We’ll find him come light of morning, though.”

  “All right, go ahead and get in.”

  Eleanor watched with surprise as the black man climbed into the backseat, sitting behind the driver. He removed his hat and nodded at her.

  “Hello, miss.”

  “Hello,” she said softly, baffled by the turn of events. She’d never seen a white person allow a black person into his car, even if he knew him, as this man seemed to.

  “I really appreciate you trying, Sam,” Davis said, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror as he got the car moving again. “Cisco is safe, though?”

  “Yes, Mr. Davis. Miss Adalyn was holding him ’fore I left.”

  The two men grew silent, and Eleanor tried to wrap her mind around the very unexpected situation she’d found herself in. What she wanted was for the storm never to have happened and to be back home asleep in her bed. But as the car took a couple of turns down a quiet street, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. They pulled into the long drive of a large home that she’d seen many times and had always found beautiful. The building material was sandstone with three floors of measured opulence, including a small turret. She’d always wondered what was inside that turret: was it a small room for reading? A closet? Or was it simply part of a spiral staircase to the lower floor?

  The Ford pulled up and around into the circular drive. The large intricately carved wood front door opened, though nobody stepped out. Eleanor took a deep breath, relieved to be out of the confines of the car with the two men but nervous about what was next. She was startled out of her thoughts when her door was opened. She turned to look, and Samuel stood with a welcoming smile on his face.

  “Miss…”

  Glancing over her shoulder to find the backseat vacant, she wondered how on earth he’d exited the car so quickly and reached her side. “Thank you,” she said, stepping out.

  “Adalyn!” Davis called out as he too stepped out of the car. Eleanor again startled. She expected him to bark out orders to this Adalyn woman, but instead he said, “I brought you a surprise!” She was even more surprised when he smiled over the top of the car at her.

  “Come on, miss.” Samuel stepped up beside her and indicated with a large hand that she should walk before him. “Let’s get you dry and warm.”

  She gave him a ghost of a smile before continuing on, hurrying up the rounded cement stairs that led to the rounded front portico that gave the already beautiful house a grand entrance.

  As she stepped up the final stair, she saw a woman rushing down the circular staircase inside, lifting her skirt as she went. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with flowing chestnut hair, worn longer than most women Eleanor knew. Her delicate features reminded her a bit of those on a doll. Her smile was wide and welcoming.

  “Bonjour, mon amour,” she said, arms flung open wide as Davis stepped into them. “We missed you.”

  Eleanor was shocked at the display of affection and felt the need to shield her eyes. The most she’d ever seen her parents do was her father grabbing her mother’s hand to redirect her where he wanted her to go. The hug and quick kiss on the lips these two shared brought a blush to her cheeks.

  “What is my surprise, chéri?” she asked, her words beautifully accented with French. Her hands clasped behind his neck as he looked down at her with adoring eyes.

  Eleanor stood near the opened door, not sure what to do and feeling awkward and beyond uncomfortable. She knew she looked and smelled like a drowned rat, and if she could have sunken into the marble floor of the entryway, she happily would have.

  “Look who I brought you, my love.” He released her waist, and with a hand on her lower back, he led her toward where Eleanor stood. “Baby Eleanor.”

  With wide eyes, Eleanor looked from him to her, her discomfort intensifying as the pair ascended on her, making her take a small step backward until she came into contact with the open front door.

  “Look at you!” the woman gushed, her hands coming up to cup Eleanor’s cheeks before her face was brought forward to receive a kiss to either side. “Beautiful girl.”

  Eleanor looked into her eyes, such a beautiful color and so familiar. She also noted the woman smelled amazing. Either she was wearing perfume at four in the morning or she was made of roses.

  “Is your maman not with you?” she asked, looking past Eleanor to the early morning beyond.

  Eleanor paused, the word the woman had spoken—sounding like mamaw—confusing her. “Uh—”

  “No, darling,” Davis said, stepping between the two. “She stayed behind with Edward.”

  The look that passed between the two, the shadow that crossed otherwise beautiful aquamarine eyes, wasn’t lost on Eleanor. It seemed to be a flash of anger before that gaze was back on her, along with the warmth that had been in them a moment before.

  “I am so happy to have you back in our home, Baby Eleanor.” She smiled, her hands reaching down to take Eleanor’s. “Not a baby anymore,” she said with a wink, which made Eleanor blush anew. “Come, mon cher, let us get you into a bath.” She put her arm around Eleanor’s waist and guided her toward the stairs. “Samuel,” she said softly to the man who stood nearby, as though waiting for instruction. “Please prepare the purple bedroom for our very special guest, hmm?”

  “Yes, Miss Adalyn,” he said, bounding up the stairs ahead of the ladies.

  Eleanor was whisked off to the second floor and what seemed to be the area where the bedrooms were. They passed at least four of them before reaching the room at the end of an adjacent hallway, a bedroom and washroom off by themselves. For a moment, Eleanor wondered if she were being punished or hidden away.

  “Here you can have your privacy,” Adalyn explained, leading her into the washroom.

  “Oh,” Eleanor said, relieved if amused that Adalyn seemed to have heard her thoughts.

  The light was switched on with the push switch to reveal a wonderland of purple and cream. The sink, commode and, to her delight, bathtub were all a vibrant purple while the tile and accents were cream. The fixtures were chrome and polished to a shine. Her gaze kept returning to the commode with its pull chain. At the farmhouse, they had an outhouse. She’d never used an inside toilet before and wasn’t sure what she was more excited about—the commode or the deep, inviting bathtub!

  “I will leave you to enjoy,” Adalyn said with a smile.

  A sudden wave of panic flowed over Eleanor as she looked at the very things that had been so inviting a moment before with flustered uncertainty. She could feel eyes on her and met Adalyn’s gaze. “Um,” she whispered, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

  Adalyn studied her for a moment before she reached out, running her fingers down a long strand of dark hair before she walked over to a cabinet, cleverly hidden in the wall. She pulled the panel open to reveal shelves. She reached in and retrieved a glass bottle with a rubber stopper. The contents inside were a light purple.

  “Smell,” she said, removing the stopper and waving the bottle in front of Eleanor’s nose. “Beautiful, no?”

  Eleanor’s eyes slid closed at the wonderful lavender scent. “Yes, absolutely beautiful.”

  “Here.” Adalyn handed her the bottle. “You decide what soap you want to use, okay?”

  Eleanor took it and watched as the woman who looked to be around her mother’s age made her way to the tub and placed the stopper, which was attached to the faucet with a chain, into the drain. She glanced over her shoulder as though to see if Eleanor were paying attention. Tub plugged, she turned both hot and cold spigots until the water flowed. After a quick, silent tutorial of how the commode worked, Eleanor was left alone.

  Blowing out a breath, feeling slightly overwhelmed, Eleanor looked around. The steaming water waiting for her was so inviting. Adalyn had left towels for her, as well as a clean sleeping gown to slip into.

&n
bsp; “Here goes,” she said, slipping out of the mud-caked gown she wore, feeling very vulnerable as she slid her undergarments down her legs to puddle at her feet. She kicked them aside and scurried over to the tub.

  Looking down into the scented water, she took a final breath before she tested the temperature with a toe. Finding it satisfactory, Eleanor stepped into the tub, lowering herself in as her eyes closed in absolute pleasure with an almost obscene groan.

  Fully submerged, she rested her head against the back of the tub, the water rising to just above her breasts. She knew she didn’t have long, as she did desperately need to get some sleep, and she had a few scant hours to do that before her father no doubt dragged her out of the bed by her hair, just like at home when she wasn’t up when he felt she should be.

  Allowing herself to enjoy it for a few moments longer, she gathered her willpower and washed herself, scrubbing her hair and skin with the most beautifully scented shampoo and soap she’d ever smelled. At home and in the store, they had only the bare basics in products and toiletries. There were no pretty colors and fragrances. There were no perfumes and fancy powders, such as she’d seen Adalyn pour into her bath water.

  Eleanor often saw her life and family in shades of black and white with a few grays in between. Her father insisted their home and beliefs be simple and his alone. But now, in this gorgeous home in the new experience of a formal bath in a tub, she saw there were actually colors to life, and not just the purple she was surrounded by.

  She took a mental picture of her surroundings because likely she’d never enjoy the likes of it again.

  ****

  The sun was shining through the sheer window coverings as violet eyes blinked open. Eleanor was curled up on her side in one of the two twin beds in what was called the purple room due to the fine purple wallpaper and plush area rugs on the hardwood floor. As she lay there, she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t alone.

  Turning to her back, she immediately realized someone was reclining on the other bed on the opposite wall, book in hand. Lysette tore her focus from the story and rested her gaze on Eleanor.

  “Good morning,” she said with a welcoming smile.

  Chapter Six

  Eleanor sat at her desk in the empty classroom, the radio softy playing in the background as she graded a batch of tests. She wanted to go home and begin the newest novel she’d picked up and not have to take her work with her. A voracious reader, she’d been recommended Isaac Asimov. She was not particularly a science fiction fan, but she was willing to give anything a try in the literary world at least once.

  “Hello, my darling doll.”

  She looked up and smiled as she watched Scott O’Shea waltz into the room—literally. She tossed her red pencil aside, as she knew any grading was finished while he was there, and sat back in her squeaky desk chair.

  He reached her and, with a dramatic bow, leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Happy Wednesday to you.”

  “Someone has been watching their Fred and Ginger again, I see.” Eleanor chuckled, reaching up and brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes, falling there with his moves.

  “But of course.”

  With that, he reached down and grabbed her hand, cradling it in his as his other hand found her lower back, and he led her gracefully around the small triangle of space between her desk, the wall, and the front row of students’ desks. Eleanor was no Ginger Rogers, to be sure, but he’d taught her enough to keep up and not step on him or get stepped on.

  They ended their impromptu waltz with applause from the open doorway of her classroom, two other teachers standing there watching.

  “So romantic!” home economics teacher Holly Sanders gasped, hand to her heart.

  “When are you two going to get married already?” Holly’s best friend and math teacher Martha Dooley asked, hand on rounded hip.

  Eleanor and Scott glanced at each other and grinned before turning to their audience and giving them a small bow and curtsy, respectively. Left alone as their colleagues wandered off, Scott looked deep into Eleanor’s eyes, mischief in the dark brown depths of his own.

  “Yes, darling, when are you going to marry me?”

  She playfully swatted him away as she walked back to her desk, slightly winded from their dance. “The day Ronnie gives me away as your bride,” she said quietly, for his ears only. She smiled at the cackle that got. “You heading out?” she asked, reclaiming her seat.

  Scott, the band and choir teacher, perched on the edge of her desk. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be up to letting me take you to dinner. I know, I know,” he rushed on when she began to reject his offer. “I need to talk, Eleanor. I need some advice.”

  She studied him, his boyish features irresistible. Finally, she sighed. “All right.”

  ****

  Eleanor and Scott sat at a table near the front window of the Woodland Diner, its dinner crowds thin yet. Eleanor sipped her coffee, watching as Scott made quick work of his meatloaf. She’d already finished her salad with tuna fillet, not in the mood for anything heavy.

  “I finally spoke to my mother,” he said quietly, using a knife and fork to cut another piece of the seasoned meat dish.

  “And?”

  He shrugged, sparing her a glance before scooping some mashed potatoes with his fork before using them as the glue to capture the bite of meat. “She said my friend is welcome in the house.”

  “Your ‘friend,’” Eleanor said gently, shaking her head.

  The loaded fork stopped halfway on its journey to his mouth. “What else am I to call him, El?” he asked. “My father—” He cut himself off as his voice had begun to raise. He cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly as he looked around to make sure nobody was paying them any mind. His gaze fell on Eleanor again. “My father won’t even allow Ronnie because he’s ‘not like us,’” he described the black man using air quotes with pain in his voice, “into the house. What am I supposed to do?”

  She smirked. “Your father would have a hissy if he knew I lived next door to a colored man.”

  He returned the smirk. “My father would have a hissy if he knew you lived alone, El.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “As you should be. Get your own place.”

  He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “How on earth can I do that? I’m not married.”

  She rolled her eyes and set her coffee cup onto the provided saucer. “Scotty,” she said with a heavy sigh, “you’re a thirty-two-year-old man making a wage.”

  “But I’m not married…”

  “Lordy, Scott.” She sighed in exasperation. She held up her left hand, fingers spread. “Do you see a gold band here?”

  “There could be,” he hedged.

  “No.”

  “Eleanor—”

  No!” She softened her expression and her tone as she gazed adoringly at the man who she loved even as he drove her crazy. “I like my life. I’m not about to give up my freedom and sanity because you’re too much of a mama’s boy for your own good. At some point, you’re going to have to become your own man. Especially,” she added, “if you don’t want to lose Ronnie.”

  He played with his food, his expression seeming to be a mixture of irritation and hurt. He reached for his Coca-Cola and drank before he met her gaze again. “What about Anne?”

  “What about her?” she asked, reaching for her coffee again. She wasn’t thrilled about the conversation turning in her direction.

  “Do you think there’s ever a chance of things getting serious?” he asked, his tone lightening somewhat, always an indicator that he was choosing to let his hurt feelings go.

  She stared down at her fingers, which were wrapped around the delicate cup. There was no real reason to respond to a question he already knew the answer to. “Scott,” she said softly instead. “Do you remember your first love?” Her gaze flicked up to meet his.

  He took in another forkful of food, nodding as he chewed. “College,” he managed around the food in
his mouth. He shrugged. “Crushes before that, but it wasn’t until Billy Everstein that I understood what it all meant.” He grabbed his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Know what I mean?”

  She nodded, a soft smile spreading across her lips. “I do. Where’s Billy Everstein now?”

  “He…he died,” Scott murmured, focusing his gaze on his half-finished dinner.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching across the table to cover his larger hand with hers, able to feel the sadness rolling off him in waves.

  He cleared his throat again and squeezed her fingers before giving her a small smile as he slid his hand out from beneath hers and resumed eating.

  “What advice did you want, Scotty?” she asked gently, deciding to get back to his initial reason for their dinner. “What are you trying to decide, hmm?”

  “Well,” he said after a moment, “all things considered, should I even pursue this with him? With Ronnie.”

  She studied his eyes for a long moment, her gaze spreading out to his open and honest features. “Do you love him?”

  He glanced out the window next to their table to the bustling sidewalk and street beyond. Finally, he looked at her again. “Yeah.”

  “Then hold on to that,” she whispered. “It’s precious.”

  ****

  Pulling her long jacket a bit closer to her body, Eleanor strolled, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk as she made the trek home after a relatively uneventful day at school. It was heading into the second week of October, and though there was a definite chill in the air, she absolutely loved the beauty of the change of the trees, their vibrant colors all around her.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh, crisp air as she walked on. As per usual, she slowed as she neared the box office for the picture show. She was about to glance up at the marquee to see what the feature was when a car pulled up to the curb and stopped just past the theater.