by Dara Girard
Janet looked at Beverly curious. "What friends?"
"I sent Tanya an email that you and I were coming and she told me to call when I arrived."
"Why don't you and Bev visit the Farmers." Janet clapped her hands excited. "We'll all have a wonderful day."
* * *
Janet looked at the address then the studio door. She hadn't called first, eager to surprise Russell, but now she wondered. She took a deep breath then knocked.
He opened the door looking annoyed then surprised. "Janet."
"Hi."
"What—I didn't expect to see you."
"I wanted to surprise you."
He pulled on his lip. "You certainly did."
"Are you busy?" she asked seeing a teenage girl in the background.
He glanced at her. "I'm just finishing up. Stephanie, glad you could come for your lessons," he shouted over his shoulder.
The girl laughed. "Okay."
"I uh... offer tutoring." He lowered his voice "It's not glamorous, but pays the bills."
Stephanie walked past them with her backpack. "When should I—"
"I'll see you next week. I'll call you beforehand." He forced her out the door and took Janet's arm. "Come in."
Janet stepped in and saw a large painting in process. "I didn't know you had time in your schedule to give private lessons to young people."
He shrugged. "As I said, it pays the bills. I'm part of a nonprofit organization that's trying to encourage young people in the arts."
"That's very commendable," Janet said awed by his spacious studio.
"I always make do with what I have." He sat. "I'm happy to see you. What are you doing in Detroit?"
His easy manner made her relax. At first she'd thought coming had been a mistake, but now she knew it wasn't. Janet sat in front of him. "We're visiting our aunt. She lives just outside Detroit. She invited Beverly and me to visit. Since I was so close, I decided that I wanted to see you."
But something had shifted. Her heart no longer raced and her stomach didn't tingle. Janet enjoyed being with him, but realized that her girlish infatuation had changed into deep affection and nothing more. She still admired him and reveled in the time he took to offer her a tour of the Institute and they discussed his upcoming exhibit. Janet shared with him how her classes were going and that she had sold one sketch and a portrait, not for much, but it was a start.
"How does it feel to be out of Hamsford?" he asked as they sat in the Institute's café.
"It's a breath of fresh air."
"And Beverly needed a change of scene," he said with a knowing look.
"Yes." Janet lifted her hot chocolate. "But I didn't come to talk about her. I don't want to burden you with my family's problems."
"I don't mind. I respect your family. They're like my own. Beverly will soon see that she can do better than Jeffrey Framer. Hopefully you will too."
"What do you have against him?"
He stretched his arm along the booth. "Nothing personally, but his behavior shows Frederick's influence and anyone like that rates low on my list."
"You're right," Janet said remembering Russell's story about Frederick.
"Do you have some time?"
"Sure. Why?"
"I'd like to go back to my studio." He paused. "I'd like you to sketch me. I've heard about your talent and want a chance to have a memento of your visit."
Janet blushed, pleased by his praise and interest. "I'd love to."
Moments later, Janet stood in Russell's studio smoothing down the large drawing pad propped on an easel and then organized the assortment of charcoal almost giddy with excitement. At last she'd get to sketch that beautiful face of his. He'd disappeared into the bathroom to shave. He said he hadn't had a chance that morning. She hadn't noticed a difference, but didn't want to tell him so. "I'm ready when you are," she called out to him.
"Good. I'll be right with you."
Janet closed her eyes, clasped her hands together hoping she would do a good job then took a deep breath.
"Where do you want me?"
Janet opened her eyes and gasped. Russell stood naked.
He casually walked over to the couch and sat. "I think I'll sit here." He rested his arms on the back of the couch. A slight smile touched his lips at her startled expression. "Just think of me as one of your models. Whatever thoughts are in your mind have nothing to do with me or this situation and everything to do with you. I believe it was Shakespeare who said, 'There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.'" He rubbed his chin. "So what do you think, Janet? Is this bad?"
Janet looked away and picked up a piece of charcoal. It snapped in her fingers. She set it down and picked up another one. "No, I've spent the last several years drawing naked men."
"And this is the way we were meant to be before sin entered the world." He adjusted his position.
Janet didn't respond and began sketching, determined to remain composed, although her throat was dry, her thoughts raced and her heart pounded as though she'd run a thousand miles. He was beautifully made and she had to force herself to be objective and not stare. Fortunately, she was skilled and completed the sketch in a matter of minutes. "I'm done." She placed the charcoal down and stepped back.
Russell rose to his feet, wrapped a small towel around his waist, then stood beside her, staring at the image. "Excellent. You are definitely talented." He leaned forward. "But you haven't signed it."
"Oh, um... yes." Janet hastily scribbled her name.
He smiled. "Much better."
Janet didn't move afraid that she might touch him, his nakedness seeming to grow larger and larger in her mind. She fought to ignore the tantalizing scent of his cologne. "Thank you."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"My models don't usually critique my work after I've sketched them," she said wiping the charcoal residue off her fingers.
"I see."
To her relief Russell disappeared into the bathroom again and came out clothed. He went into the kitchen and offered her a drink, which she refused. He poured himself a glass then leaned against the counter and watched her as she put on her jacket. "Janet, you have a chance to go far with your art. After you've graduated I'd be more than happy to mentor you and connect you with key people."
"I'd love that, thank you, but I've got a job waiting."
He paused surprised then asked, "Doing what? Not teaching I hope."
"No, I interned with an interior designer and she..." Janet stopped when Russell shook his head.
"You're meant for better things than prettying up some rich person's house."
"But I like—"
"Don't limit yourself Janet. When you graduate call me. Promise."
* * *
Janet left Russell without promising him anything, feeling both conflicted and wonderful. He'd opened her mind to so many things. Sketching him wasn't bad. It was art. It was innocent. It was freedom. But she rode back in the taxi feeling confused. Would working for Mrs. Blakemore be limiting? She loved the work, but what if she could become a gallery artist? Was that better? She returned to her aunt's house ready to share her wonderful afternoon only to find Beverly in tears. She looked up at her aunt. "What happened?"
Mrs. Nelson looked bewildered. "We visited the Farmers, although Jeffrey wasn't there, and had a lovely time until Karen handed Beverly a copy of a newspaper from Hamsford. She said we should read it when we get home in case Beverly was feeling a little homesick. I thought that was very kind of her."
Janet folded her arms. "Hmm."
"So when we got home, Beverly read it and then burst into tears."
"Let me see it." When her aunt handed her the paper, Janet flipped through it then saw the headline: Jeffrey Farmer engaged!
Beverly sniffed. "I'm sure she didn't know how to tell me so she did it this way. There were hints but I didn't listen."
"Perhaps I should have read it first," Mrs. Nelson said near tears.
Janet shook her head.
"Aunty you didn't do anything wrong." She turned to her sister. "I don't believe Jeffrey would have done this to you."
"Then why would the announcement be in the paper?"
"Anybody can put anything in the paper. And I bet you it wasn't him."
"I shouldn't have come here."
"But—"
Beverly squeezed her eyes shut and held her fists to her chest. "I'm not strong like you, Janet. I'm sorry." She opened her eyes. "I want to go home."
* * *
Janet sat in her bedroom and stared out at the light snow falling. She'd hoped that being home would have helped Beverly, but each day her sister became more and more despondent. She barely ate dinner and only went to work and her bedroom where she would stay all weekend. Janet was concerned but didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, Francine burst into her room. "Come quick," she said grabbing Janet's arm and dragging her out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She led Janet into the kitchen then pointed at Beverly who was on her knees scrubbing the floor. "She's been at it for hours. That's not like her."
"No," Janet said quietly. "It's not."
"Daddy and Dee-dee aren't here. Should I call them?"
Janet shook her head. "No, I'll talk to her. Go. Leave her to me."
Francine looked unsure then left.
Janet cautiously approached Beverly and knelt down in front of her. "What are you doing?"
"I'm cleaning."
"But we don't need to do that."
Beverly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "With Mrs. Lind gone, Dee-dee needs help around the house."
"But you know that Sister Alma comes and helps her once a week."
Her scrubbing increased. "It's not enough."
Janet placed her hand on the brush to stop her. "Yes, it is."
Beverly sat back on her heels, her eyes filled with anguish. "Don't you understand? I should have married Brother Jerome. I shouldn't have encouraged you to change his mind because I thought that Jeffrey might..." She shook her head. "I put all my hopes on a stupid dream and it didn't come true. I could have made my parents so proud instead I've disappointed them. I can't clean enough or make enough money to make up for the mistake I've made."
"You haven't made a mistake," Janet said troubled by her sister's words.
"Yes, I did and now God is punishing me. It was God's will. Instead I was lead by my own vanity."
"But Mother Shea had another dream."
"Only because of my wickedness. I disobeyed Him. I should have brought honor to my family instead of shame. Everyone looks at me with pity. I'm a disgrace. I—"
Janet grabbed her sister firmly by the shoulders. "Beverly, listen."
But Beverly was beyond listening she continued to ramble, her words growing wilder and more hysterical. Soon they became gibberish. Then her eyes fell to the back of her head and she started to shake, her arms and legs flailing about.
"Francine!"
Francine immediately appeared and shrieked when she saw Beverly.
"Call 911," Janet told her. Minutes later the EMTs arrived and stabilized Beverly then whisked her into the ambulance. Janet jumped in her car and followed them, instructing Francine before she left, to let their parents know exactly what happened when they returned home from prayer meeting.
Janet waited alone in the emergency room for about an hour before her family joined her. She calmed her mother and told her father about the seizure then they all fell silent. Nearly an hour later a doctor came and spoke to the family. He explained that Beverly had suffered a stress induced seizure. He also explained that she was dehydrated.
The doctor ordered that Beverly be kept in the hospital for several days then released her, but not before recommending that she make a follow up appointment with one of their psychiatrists.
Mr. Barnett tore up the referral. "You think my daughter is crazy?" he asked the young doctor.
"No, but we believe she had a nervous breakdown."
"A nervous what?"
"Breakdown," the doctor said patiently. "Her mind—"
"Her mind is fine. Perfectly sound. And any demon of the mind can be prayed out." Mr. Barnett wagged his finger at him. "The Evil One has not taken hold of her. Her body just needs rest and we'll take care of that."
And they did. When she returned home, no one spoke about Beverly's hospital stay. They all tried to help her recover and pretended as if nothing had happened. Beverly's boss put her on extended sick leave, for as long as she needed, and promised to hold her job. No one mentioned Jeffrey Farmer. But Beverly didn't recover and finally Mrs. Barnett decided the winter weather was bad for her and sent her to Jamaica to stay with her sister.
* * *
In April Janet accepted Valerie's invitation to visit and spend spring break in Pennsylvania. However, she regretted telling her mother so early when she went into the kitchen. Even though the window was open, heat baked the room and the scent of oil, cinnamon, ginger and vinegar permeated the air. Janet saw bowls of crescent shaped meat pies, jerk chicken, bulla cake and peas and rice fighting for space on the table.
Janet rested a hand against her chest. "What are you doing?"
Mrs. Barnett wrapped the meat pies in foil. "You can't go empty handed."
"Dee-dee, I can't take all this food with me."
"You can and you will."
"But Dee-dee—"
"They'll need it. Who knows what kind of shops they have up there. They need nourishment from home." She pointed to the stove. "Mind my fish."
Janet went to the stove and saw fried fish simmering in coconut milk and spices. "This is too much."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Mrs. Barnett nodded and tapped Janet on the shoulder. "Just do as I say. You'll thank me."
Mrs. Barnett was right. Valerie and Brother Jerome were overjoyed by the food Janet brought them and that evening they ate and talked about Hamsford and their new life in Pennsylvania. The next day Janet stood in the main living room, looking at the Jeromes' expansive property. "It's so good to be here."
"It's good to have you here," Valerie said excited to see her.
Janet turned to her friend and smiled. Valerie had certainly done well for herself. "It's a beautiful home."
"It's a mausoleum. Don't look surprised Janet. Remember I can read you. Peter can't help himself. Whenever Mrs. Amsted recommends or mentions something she thinks he should have, he goes out and buys it right away."
"Mrs. Amsted?"
"She's an associate who he does some investing with." Valerie pointed out the window. "Her house is over there."
Janet peered through the window and saw the large structure in the distance. "It's enormous."
"Peter hasn't seemed to notice that. She's always throwing out and replacing things. Unfortunately, objects that fit her house only crowd ours, but he loves getting them. He respects her opinion above anyone because she's so cultured."
Janet rolled her eyes. "Of course."
"I don't mind. He has a large barn that he renovated where he keeps the rest of his collectables. It makes him happy."
"And what keeps you happy?"
"I'll show you." Valerie led Janet to the attic where she had created a restful sewing and reading room. Janet looked at the uncluttered space and smiled. Yes, this would make her friend very happy. "It's wonderful."
"Thank you." She sat. "He does his thing and I do mine and we are very satisfied."
"Valerie!" Brother Jerome cried from below. "Come, I have something to show you and Janet."
Moments later they entered the living room and saw Brother Jerome holding up a large ornate lamp. "Isn't it exquisite?"
When Janet didn't reply, Valerie did. "Yes, where did you get it?"
"Mrs. Amsted was going to donate it, but she was kind enough to give it to me." He rested it on the table. "I'll have to find the perfect place to put it."
Janet looked around the crowded room and mumbled, "That should keep you busy."
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He snapped his fingers. "I also have fantastic news. Mrs. Amsted has invited us for dinner this evening." He looked at Janet. "She wants to meet you. How lucky you are. She's very choosy about the people she entertains. You'll be fine."
However, Brother Jerome changed his mind when he saw what Janet wore that evening. "Don't you have anything else?" he asked.
"Peter," Valerie scolded.
"I'm sorry, my dear. You're right." He stroked his chin and looked critically at Janet's outfit. "Valerie is now acquainted with dressing formally, but whatever you have will have to do. Mrs. Amsted is very gracious. And-"
Valerie tapped her watch. "The time Peter."
He glanced at the clock then ran to the door. "Yes, yes we can't be late." He held out their coats. "Come on." He quickly shuffled them into the car and drove to the Amsted house. Janet stared amazed by the expanse of property while Brother Jerome provided a narration on the history of the land—who owned it before the Amsted's and any other trivia that came to mind.
Fortunately, it was a short drive. Brother Jerome continued his narration as they walked towards the large ornate door and only stopped when the butler answered. The butler led them into the main hall where their host sat with her daughter. Mrs. Amsted was a commanding figure who held her years well—although most people didn't know exactly what they were. She had pale skin, green eyes and a silver streak that cut through her soft brown hair, which was pulled up into an upsweep.
Her daughter, Daphne was a lively young woman of twenty-five with shoulder length ash blond hair and rosebud lips. She patted the seat next to her when she saw Janet.
"We're going to have another guest arriving soon," Mrs. Amsted said. "He's staying with me for a few days." Before anyone could ask who, she continued, "He is one of the many young people I have sponsored over the years to attend our universities. I've had students from India, Saudi Arabia, and other countries around the world. But I have to admit that Frederick was one of my favorites and still keeps in touch. Ah, there he is. Your ears must have been burning. We were just talking about you."
Frederick strolled into the room with his hands in his pockets. "Good things I hope." He halted when he saw Janet and she stared at him, equally startled. "Hello."