Dreaming In Color

by Charlotte Vale-Allen

  Eva surrendered to her impulse and hugged the girl. "I'm sorry too," she said. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

  "Are we friends again?"

  "Yes, we're friends," Eva said thickly, undone by the child's sensitivity.

  "Okay," Penny said, and slipped away, tiptoeing to the door. "Bye."

  "Jesus!" Eva whispered, so rattled by the brief incident that she knew she'd be unable to do any more work. She stored the partial chapter, then sat looking at the blank screen. She wanted all at once to talk to Mellie, to hear her voice. But of course she'd hold off and wait for Mellie to call. Instead, she picked up the telephone to call Charlie.

  "Are you home tonight?" she asked when he came on the line.

  "I'll be in. Why? What's up?"

  "Mind if I drop by after dinner?"

  "Sure," he said, a smile in his voice. "Great. I'll see you, what, around eight?"

  "Maybe earlier. I need to get out of here for a while."

  "You know I'm always glad to see you," he said.

  "Thanks," she said, and hung up.

  Still on edge, she went over to the old armchair in the corner and sat gazing at the door. At times like this she missed her life in New York so terribly it was like a physical craving. Thank God, she thought, for Charlie. Without him, she didn't know what she'd do. She'd never dreamed when she agreed to move back to this house that she'd have to contend with quite so much. Instead of becoming more adept at dealing with her aunt's stroke and the resulting disability, as the months passed she felt she was almost daily losing more of her emotional equilibrium.

  How could she have spoken to the child in that fashion? It was reprehensible. She'd have to make a concerted effort at dinner to compensate for her sharpness with Penny and for the way she'd all but ignored Bobby that morning.

  Taking a deep breath, she got up and headed for the kitchen. Cooking would help her put things back into perspective. It was the one activity, next to reading cookbooks, that gave her any real degree of peace.

  Seven

  Her mom was doing laundry in the bathtub and Penny didn't feel like watching television. With Mr. Bear tucked under her arm, she wandered into the living room and waited for Alma to stop reading and notice her.

  When Alma looked up from her book, Penny went over and leaned against her knees, asking, "C'n I sit in your lap, Granny?"

  Sensing that something was troubling the child, Alma said, "Climb aboard," and used her good hand to assist Penny into her lap. At once, Penny settled her head against Alma's breast and popped her thumb into her mouth. "What's the matter?" Alma asked, intensely gratified by the feel of the child.

  "Nothin'," Penny murmured around her thumb.

  "Feeling a bit blue?"

  "Uh-hunh."

  "Did something happen to upset you?"

  Removing her thumb from her mouth, Penny sat away and looked up at Alma, whispering, "I'm not supposed to tell." "Tell me," Alma invited, "and it'll be our secret." Penny thought about that for a moment as she looked over at the door

  way. Then, still whispering, she said, "Auntie Eva yelled at me 'cause she was workin', but I didn't know I wasn't supposed to go in her workin' room."

  "Ah! I see," Alma said.

  "She yelled like my daddy does. I got scared."

  "She didn't mean it. I'm sure you just startled her. Eva's very fond of children." "My daddy doesn't like children," Penny said, her eyes fixed on Alma's. "He's a foolish man." "He didn't like me," Penny confided. "That makes him a very foolish man," Alma declared. "Anyone with half a brain would like you. You're a fine child, a splendid child."

  "Yeah?" Penny began to smile.

  "Positively!" Alma said. "And you're not to be upset about your little run-in with Eva. I promise you, she didn't mean to be cross with you."

  "That's what she said. But my mom always said Daddy didn't really mean it when he got mad, only I know he did mean it. He was always bad, hurtin' everybody." Again, she looked over at the door, fearful of being caught tattling.

  "Well, Eva really didn't mean it. I know for a fact that she likes you very much."

  "I like her, too," Penny said, her confidence returning.

  "Good. So we'll forget about what happened, won't we?"

  "Uh-hunh."

  "But I want you to know that any time something bothers you, any time at all, even in the middle of the night, you can come and talk to me about it. Okay?"

  "Okay." Penny settled again with her head on Alma's breast and was quiet for a time. Then, shifting, using both hands to do it, she lifted Alma's deadened left arm, draping it across her shoulders. "There!" she said, when she was done. "That's better, isn't it, Granny?"

  Unable to speak, Alma merely nodded.

  Eva just couldn't help herself. Bobby came in offering to set the table and Eva said, "Please don't be offended, but will you let me set up an appointment for you with my hairdresser?"

  Bobby touched a hand to her hair. "It's too long. Is that it?"

  "It's too long, and whoever gave you that perm shouldn't be allowed anywhere near hair. You'd be so much more attractive with it returned to its natural color and condition."

  Bobby felt heat flooding her face. "Joe wanted it blond," she said, eyes downcast. She was so visibly distraught that Eva reached up to put a hand on her shoulder and the smaller woman flinched, audibly sucking in her breath.

  "Sorry," Eva said, quickly pulling back her hand.

  "That's okay," Bobby murmured, her heart racing. For a second there she'd thought Eva was going to hit her.

  "I was thinking you could go Saturday afternoon while I'm at the pool with Alma," Eva went on, as if nothing had happened. "My hairdresser's very good. He'll give you a cut that'll suit you."

  "I don't know," Bobby hesitated. "I don't have too much cash left."

  "My treat," Eva said quickly with a coaxing smile. "Have I upset you? If I have, I'm sorry. I know I have a tendency to be sharp with people. It doesn't mean anything, except that I'm distracted."

  The woman was apologizing to her and Bobby didn't know how to deal with it. No one had ever treated her the way the women in this house did: prickly one minute, nice as pie the next. They kept her feeling anxious. "It's all right," she said.

  "Good," Eva said, smiling more widely. "I'll make the appointment tomorrow." She turned away to the stove and Bobby stood a moment, then took the dishes and cutlery into the dining room.

  As she set the table, she wondered if by Saturday she'd be able to conceal her bruises with makeup. She hated having people ask what had happened. Lining up the salt and pepper shakers, she listened to Penny chattering away to Alma in the living room. Bobby stood by the swing door hoping Pen wasn't getting on the old woman's nerves. But Alma was laughing at something Pen had said. So that was good. She returned to the kitchen to ask if there was anything else Eva wanted done.

  "Nothing, thank you. I'll be going out after dinner. If you wouldn't mind loading the dishwasher, I'd appreciate it."

  "Sure, be glad to," Bobby said.

  "By the way, feel free to use the washer and dryer. I know how kids can go through clothes." "Thanks a lot. I was wondering about that." "When Mellie comes home for Thanksgiving, she'll bring an entire car

  load of dirty clothes," Eva said, making a face. "Her excuse is she never has any quarters for the machines at school. I think she's just lazy. I shudder to think what she'll be like when she has a place of her own."

  "She'll probably be fine," Bobby said. "People change when they get on their own."

  Eva glanced over. "Did you?"

  "I haven't ever been on my own. I went from caring for my grandpa to being married to Joe. What about you?" "I spent a semester of my senior year in London. Then, after I graduated, I went back and we lived there for another year and a half."

  "Is that where you met your husband?"

  "That's right. Mellie was born in London. We came back when she was about six months old." "So he was English, your husband?" "No, Amer
ican," Eva said, checking the potatoes with a fork. "Ken was

  from Washington, D.C. If you want to get everyone, dinner's ready."

  Eva was so restless she could scarcely eat. She picked at her food and watched Bobby cut up Alma's meat and then Penny's. She did it quickly, with no fuss whatsoever, then sat back to eat, with one hand holding the hair away from her face. Penny jiggled about in her seat, moving from one side to the other, as if to music no one else could hear. Eva had forgotten that about small children: the way they were constantly moving. It was as if they had motors inside them that ran in overdrive until they were about nine or ten, at which time the motor settled in to idle at a more reasonable rate.

  "How do you like school?" Eva asked the child.

  "It's a very good school," Penny said with seriousness. "Mrs. Corey's really nice. She let me read the story today. Out loud," she added, then looked to Alma, who nodded approval. "She said I did very well." She aimed her fork at a slice of carrot, missed and took aim again.

  "Have you made some new friends?" Eva asked.

  "Uh-hunh."

  "You'll have to invite your new friends over to play sometime," Eva said.

  Penny started to speak with her mouth full, and Bobby shushed her, saying, "Swallow what you've got in your mouth first, Pen."

  With exaggerated motions, Penny finished chewing, swallowed, and said, "Emma Whitton said her mom's going to call my mom"—she looked over at Bobby—"and see if I can come to her place to play on the weekend. I wroted down the telephone number and gived it to her this morning."

  Alma set down her fork and put her right hand on Penny's arm. "You wrote down the telephone number and gave it to her this morning."

  Happily, Penny said, "That's right!"

  Eva burst out laughing.

  Bobby smiled behind her hand.

  Alma stroked the child's arm briefly, then retrieved her fork. She was smiling this time, Bobby could tell. "It was very clever of you to write down the phone number," Eva said. "I haven't had time yet to teach it to her," Bobby explained. "I already learned it," Penny said proudly. "And I learned the address too. Granny learned me.'

  "Taught me," Alma corrected her.

  "Right," Penny said. "And she taught me all about nine-one-one, too."

  "I never thought to do that," Bobby said, feeling perhaps she'd been remiss.

  Eva looked at her aunt with respect. It would never have occurred to her to teach the child the emergency number, but it was obviously a sensible thing to do. She took a bite of potato, thinking about the book she was working on. The two weeks without a nurse had set her behind schedule, and she was putting in extra hours attempting to get caught up. In part that was why she'd been so ill-tempered the past few days. Seeing Charlie would, with luck, calm her down, and get her back in control. She could-n't wait for the meal to be over so that she could leave.

  Charlie came to the door barefoot, wearing an old gray track suit, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He said, "Hi," and gave her a kiss, then held out his hands for her coat. "You look a little frazzled," he observed as he turned from the closet and took hold of her hand. "Drink?"

  "Hmmm. Something strong but not incapacitating," she said, breathing in the smell of his cologne. He liked Obsession. So did she. She had bought him the whole Obsession for Men line the previous Christmas.

  He laughed and said, "Jack Daniel's."

  "Perfect. Straight up."

  "Things must be bad," he said, heading for the kitchen.

  Following after him, she said, "Actually, we've got a new nurse. Well, she's not really a nurse but Alma seems happier with her than with any of the others. And she's got a child."

  "How's that working out?"

  "Aside from the fact that I behaved disgracefully to the poor little girl this afternoon, it's working out very well." She leaned in the doorway as he poured the drinks. "She wandered into my office while I was daydreaming and I shrieked at her." She shook her head in disgust. "She thought I was going to hit her. The mother's a battered wife on the run."

  Eyebrows raised, drinks in both hands, Charlie said, "Let's go into the den. A battered wife?"

  "She's black and blue," Eva said, settling next to him on the sofa and accepting the glass he held out to her. "She's scarcely five feet tall and can't weigh more than ninety pounds. I went to touch her in the kitchen this evening and she literally cringed."

  Charlie gave a knowing shake of his head. "I see more of them than you'd care to believe," he said.

  "Do you?" She shifted to face him. "You never told me that." In the nearly ten months they'd been seeing each other, they'd covered quite a wide range of conversational topics, including his work. Their conversations were, in fact, one of the most appealing aspects of their involvement. It was something they'd fallen into almost effortlessly in the aftermath of Alma's stroke. He'd been Alma's doctor for years and she'd spoken of them to each other so that when they finally did meet they both felt as if they'd known one another for a long time. Once Alma was home from the hospital, he'd called to ask Eva out and she'd accepted without hesitation. They were, from the start, very relaxed together. Charlie was the only man, aside from Ken, in whom Eva had ever had complete confidence. He didn't play games and said exactly what he was thinking. He also admitted to the guilt he still felt about breaking free of his marriage. She very much admired his truthfulness.

  "It's not something I talk about," he said. "Most of them tell me tales about walking into open cabinet doors, or accidentally slamming car doors on their hands. I patch them up and try to let them know I'm willing to listen if they want to talk. They rarely do. How is this titch of a woman managing with Alma?"

  "She's evidently strong as a horse, although you'd never believe it to see her."

  "You don't like her," Charlie guessed.

  Eva hesitated, swallowed some of the Jack Daniel's, then said, "I don't dislike her. It's just that she bothers me."

  "Why? Because she got beaten?"

  "Partly. And partly because she's so … lower class. God! What an appalling thing to say! But her hair, and her clothes, the way she talks … Alma says I'm an elitist bitch. I think maybe she's right. I should be able to accept Bobby as she is, shouldn't I? But I want to change her, make her over. I'm treating her to a haircut on Saturday. And over dinner tonight I was actually trying to think what I had in the way of clothes that might fit her." She gave a hoarse laugh and said, "If I keep this up, you'll never want to see me again."

  "If you keep it up," he said wisely, "you might figure out why she bothers you so."

  She studied him for several moments, thinking how much she liked him, liked his face. He didn't look fifty. He had few wrinkles and there was just a bit of gray threaded through his hair. His hazel eyes were exceptionally clear. "Why don't you look your age?" she asked with a smile.

  "Oh, I do," he said easily, extending his arm along the back of the sofa. "And what does fifty look like, anyway? What does forty-three look like, for that matter?"

  "Forty-three looks like me," she said, still smiling. "Am I an elitist bitch, do you think?"

  "Maybe a little. There are worse things to be. You did take the woman in and give her the job."

  "That's true."

  "With a child."

  "True, too."

  "So you're a little on the critical side. It's forgivable."

  "You think so?" she asked, her head tilting to one side.

  "I think so."

  "I came over hoping you'd want to make love."

  He grinned. "I think I could accommodate you. Did you have a specific time in mind?"

  "Now?"

  "You don't want to finish your drink first?"

  "We could bring them with us," she said.

  "We could do that."

  "Okay." She got up and started toward the bedroom.

  He sat for a few seconds watching the sway of her hips, then got up to follow her. She was pulling off her sweater by the time he got to the d
oor. After setting his drink down, he shed his track suit, then perched on the end of the bed, enjoying the sight of her removing her clothes. When she got to her underwear, he stood up behind her and ran his hands over her back, bending to kiss her shoulder.

  "That's nice," she said, untying the ribbon from her hair.

  He unhooked her brassiere, reached around and closed his hands over her breasts.

  "That's very nice," she said, her voice lower as she leaned back into him.

  "You're nice," he said into the side of her neck, "even if you don't think so."

  She let her head drop onto his shoulder, her hands on his hips, savoring his warmth. There'd never been anyone, aside from Ken, she'd enjoyed making love to more than Charlie Willis. She wondered now and again if it had anything to do with his being a doctor, or if it was simply because he was one of the rare men who actually liked women. Whatever the cause, she'd quickly become addicted to his lovemaking. "You're kind," she said, turning inside his arms. "Or maybe you're just attracted to bitchy elitist women."

  "That's possible. God knows, Bets certainly qualified."

  "I'm glad I never met her."

  "I sometimes wish I hadn't," he said, maneuvering her to the bed. "Still, she made three damned decent kids." Adroitly, he put her down on her back and eased off her bikini pants, dropped them to the floor.

  "I've been thinking about this for hours," she said as he lowered himself into her embrace.

  "I think about this all the time," he said, laughing. "You tend to interfere with my practice."

  "Good," she murmured, holding him tightly.

  "You really were thinking about this for hours," he said, his hands delving between her thighs.

  In answer she brought his mouth down to hers and spread her legs.

  He'd become very adept at reading her signals and recognized that this was one of the times when extended foreplay wasn't expected or required. She was already lifting forward, fitting herself to him. The connection was made with such smooth fluidity that for a moment he lost all sense of himself, awed by their ability to join so perfectly. Eva without her clothes was an altogether different woman, utterly uninhibited and completely aware of how her body worked. When he'd asked her about that awareness early on in their involvement, she said with rare candor, "I've been a widow for a very long time. It was either learn to satisfy myself or go crazy." He fell in love with her when she said that. He'd never known anyone so honest.