by Eboni Snoe
“Of course,” Catherine replied and went back inside the house.
Catherine opened the door to Nadine’s bedroom and peered inside to see if Nadine still slept. She saw the bed was empty and made up, and she announced herself in a proper manner.
“Miss Nadine, it is Catherine. May I come in?”
“Of course, Catherine. How are you this morning?” she inquired from her seat on a divan.
Nadine had been awake for a while, but without her clothes she was confined to her room. In their place were two pieces of finely crinkled linen draped across the end of the sofa.
“I am fine, thank you,” Catherine replied. “Madame Deane sent me to check on you. I told her you would be disappointed not seeing your clothes this morning, but she insisted that I leave the pieces of cloth so you could wear a chiton today. I tried to explain to her about your plans to leave Sovereign, but she would not hear it. Now Clarence says the earthquake made all the major paths and roads on the island impassable. So it appears you are stuck here with us, at least for a day or so.”
“Impassable.” Nadine repeated the word as if she did not understand, so caught up was she in the inevitability of seeing Ulysses Deane again. Yet she made sure her response to Catherine did not convey her thoughts. “What in the world am I going to do? I need to let my boss, Dr. Steward, know where I am. He’s got to be worried about me, and each day I remain here I am getting further behind in my assigned work.”
“There is nothing you can do about that at the moment,” Catherine stated flatly then added, “Come down and join everyone for breakfast. Master Ulysses has returned. He and Rodney Sharpe are with Madame Deane on the porch.”
Nadine rubbed her fingers across her forehead the way she always did when something was on her mind. “I believe I met Mr. Deane last night. As a matter of fact he was the one who led me here.”
“Is that right?” Catherine replied, mildly amused. “Ulysses is Ulysses, the handsome devil. If I had not seen him grow up and go through some things no child or adult should experience, I don’t think I would ever understand him. I tell you this family has had its share of problems.”
“I’d say he is quite an enigma, and he likes the dark too.” Nadine’s last words trailed off as she thought of her second meeting with Ulysses.
“Pardon me?” Catherine looked at Nadine, confused.
“Never mind,” she replied quickly, then changed the subject. “Catherine, I can’t possibly go down there wearing this piece of material. They’ll think I’m crazy,” she proclaimed, while admitting to herself that Ulysses probably already did after hearing her talk to herself and to the statue in the bath.
“I can understand how you feel, Miss Nadine, but I do not want to upset Madame Deane. You see, it’s not really her fault that she has such an obsession with Greece. If you are to blame anyone, you can blame her brother, Master Peter. He wanted to claim all of his ancestors, he used to say, and he swore way before the British Deanes settled in this part of the world they were adventurers and pirates whose blood was a mixture of Greek and Portuguese. When the Deanes came here back in the late sixteen hundreds, they brought plenty of proof of that heritage with them in the books and art they owned. It was the Deanes who gave that statue of Dionysus to the island of Eros.” She nodded her head proudly before taking on a somber look. “So Greece holds a certain fascination for Madame Deane that she inherited for good or bad from her brother. And with the accident and all . . .” She looked down at the floor before looking up again. “When I left her a few moments ago she was the perfect lady of the house. If I told her you refused to wear it, I just know it would bring out her . . . other side.” She looked away momentarily. “Besides, with my help, you would look wonderful in it.”
Nadine did not like the thought of meeting Ulysses again wearing an ancient Greek dress. She would feel awkward enough if dressed in her best suit, pumps, and a single strand of pearls. But a Grecian costume! She looked at the housekeeper who was waiting for an answer. Still, Nadine thought, she had to consider, it was because of Madame Deane’s hospitality that she had a place to stay after the earthquake. Nadine was reluctant to admit Ulysses Deane had a part in it as well.
“The longer we take, the more agitated Madame Deane will become,” Catherine added. “Soon we will hear her wheelchair roll up to your door and believe me, you will not like what you see if she is upset. It is not a pretty sight,” she concluded, pleading her mistress’ case.
Nadine hesitated only a moment longer. “Okay. Fine. I’ll wear it. But you’re going to help me.”
“But of course I will,” Catherine replied, removing the soft pieces of material from the divan.
Nadine watched as she held them up lengthwise, then folded them over about a quarter of their width and placed one of the pieces in front of her, the other at her back. “Now, hold the material right here,” she instructed, bunching the cloth together above Nadine’s slender shoulders.
Absorbed in what Catherine was doing, she obeyed. The housekeeper went to the dresser and took two brooches out of an intricately woven container. Afterwards she used the trinkets to fasten the cloth together on top of Nadine’s shoulders. Nadine was amazed at how quickly the dress was completed with no sewing or cutting, as well as how it fell in graceful folds about her upper body, creating a sleeveless look. As a finishing touch Catherine placed a piece of decorative cord to serve as a belt. She fluffed and bloused the garment above the belt, and below it, creating large ripples that continued down to the floor.
Once Catherine’s handiwork was completed, Nadine turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror. She simply stared, barely recognizing herself. The only physical reminders of the woman she knew were the dark spots that remained beside her nose from wearing eyeglasses, and her round butt that was a Clayton trademark.
“My, my, my. You are a picture,” Catherine crooned, standing behind her. “That shade of green brings out the color of your eyes, and with your hair pulled back like that, it gives them an exotic look.” She tilted her head to the side. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, I do not think I have ever seen anyone whose skin was such a color. Your hair almost matches it to a tee,” Catherine proclaimed. “It reminds me of one of my spices. Cinnamon, that is what. It reminds me of cinnamon. But I have to tell you it’s those unusual-colored eyes that are your best feature. They are nothing less than captivating.”
Nadine could feel herself blushing under such unadulterated praise, but she had to admit she was pleased by what she saw in the mirror. Somehow the chiton had transformed her from the lackluster woman who grew up in a small Mississippi town into an almost ethereal being. It was a new beginning and Nadine knew that Gloria would be impressed.
“I can’t believe it,” she heard herself say softly. “I look like something out of a book.” She studied her own image. “As a child I loved reading stories about faraway places, and I would have dreams of being there. Many of the dreams took place on islands like this one. I would go there as a stranger, but I would always be very well received, as if I was coming back home. I would be given gifts of jewelry, clothing. Once I was even given a story that had been written about me. It became my childhood secret, believing in and vowing to find that written story.”
Nadine’s awe over seeing her gossamer image in the glass had goaded her into professing some of her most private thoughts. Aware of what she had revealed, Nadine looked into Catherine’s wary features. “Don’t you tell anybody I said that, Catherine,” she threatened. “As my grandma used to say, sometimes I get beside myself.”
“No, you are right, Miss Nadine,” Catherine replied, her eyes becoming cow-like. “It is amazing how well the style and color suits you. Almost like you had worn clothes like this before.” Her words were breathy. She avoided Nadine’s eyes as Nadine sought hers in the mirror.
“You’re thinking about Madame Deane, aren’t you?”
Catherine nodded.
“Lenora.” Nadine sampled t
he name out loud “That’s the name she called me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s such a beautiful name. Did she really exist?”
“I really cannot say, Miss Nadine. I only know the bits and pieces Madame Deane has told me and they were a ball of confusion,” Catherine rushed on. “We would need all the time in the world to make sense of it. Sometimes in her world a plain rock is a precious gem and an old animal skin is an ancient manuscript. So I can assure you we don’t have time to make sense of the things Madame Deane talks about, not if we want to get down to breakfast before madame comes looking for us.”
Nadine could tell Catherine did not want to discuss the matter. If the housekeeper believed that the story surrounding this woman, Lenora, was just the mental meanderings of an eccentric old woman, why would she avoid discussing it? “I guess you’re right. All I need to do is slip on these sandals.” She placed her feet into the leather shoes. “There. A perfect fit.”
Feeling the spirit of the costume overtake her, Nadine held the material up daintily above her ankles. “After you, Catherine.”
The housekeeper beamed a generous smile. “Madame will be pleased when she sets eyes on you.”
Chapter 6
Nadine stood motionless in the doorway, watching the three people at the breakfast table. Catherine had led her to the lanai, but had continued down the hallway to get more food for the morning meal. Nadine thought the scene was a unique blend of old and new. The furnishings, the landscape, and Madame Deane’s clothing appeared to be from another time, while the two men were of the present. Nadine found herself focusing on Ulysses. She could feel her confidence, bolstered by the pleasure in her appearance, slipping away when Madame Deane spotted her. Immediately, the woman’s eyes took on an unnatural glow, reminding Nadine of how bizarre the occupants of Sovereign really were. She wondered what was going on in Madame Deane’s mind as her gaze darted from her to Ulysses.
“Well, our guest is here, Ulysses.” Madame Deane motioned for Nadine to come closer as Ulysses turned his eyes toward her. Rodney also watched her advance.
As she approached them, Nadine was grateful for the feel of soft material flowing about her. She felt elegant, and judging from the expressions on everyone’s faces, she looked it as well.
Nadine then decided to take advantage of the situation life had offered. No one knew her here, or had ever heard of Nadine Clayton of Ashland, Mississippi. Here, she could be the woman she had secretly yearned to be. A woman with worldly experience, cultured, knowledgeable. There would be no one here to say she was putting on airs. Here, Gloria’s lessons would be of good use.
Nadine knew she would need all the self-confidence she could muster as Ulysses watched her advance. His penetrating gaze seemed to take in everything. When she reached the table both of the men stood. Ulysses towered considerably above his breakfast companion.
“Ulysses, Rodney, this is Le—excuse me, Nadine. Your last name escapes me, dear.” An almost imperceptible nervous twitch tugged at Madame Deane’s wrinkled lips.
“Clayton. Nadine Clayton,” she replied in her most impeccable style.
With one well-formed eyebrow slightly raised, Ulysses studied the young woman who sat across the table from him now. This poised creature was nothing like the woman he had observed talking to herself the night before, nor the near-hysterical female he had met in the cave. She had been unpretentious, almost transparent. He could never see this woman displaying the raw expressions that crossed her face the night before.
“Miss Clayton and I had the . . . pleasure of meeting yesterday,” Ulysses announced.
Nadine glanced down for only a moment. Ulysses’ pause behind the word “pleasure” went unnoticed by Madame Deane and Rodney, but his meaning was not lost to her. Controlling the heat that was rising to her face, she pursued his line of conversation.
“Yes, we did. It was Mr. Deane who invited me here in the first place. I am thankful to the two of you for your hospitality,” she added graciously, displaying her most accommodating smile.
“Well, I for one am glad that he did,” Rodney interjected with an appreciative boyish grin. “It is rare that we have outsiders travel so far inland. And I must say I cannot remember ever seeing one so lovely.”
Nadine flashed a sincere smile. “Why, thank you. But I have to admit the earthquake forced me to take refuge here. My visit with Madame Deane and Mr. Deane was not planned. And I hope to be able to return to my work as soon as possible.”
“What kind of work is that?” Madame Deane queried as her fingers busied themselves with her olive-branch headband.
Nadine noticed a slight change in the pitch of her hostess’ voice. Her shoulders had begun to slump forward in her chair, and the nervous quiver about her mouth was more apparent than before.
“I work with the World Treasures Institute gathering information for a centralized computer located in Paris. This particular system is similar to a giant library where you will be able to find out about literary and art treasures from all over the globe. I . . . lead a project which is responsible for historical research of the people, literature, and artifacts native to this area.” Nadine’s brownish-jade eyes opened wider as she heard the little white lie come out of her mouth.
Now why did I have to say that? It wouldn’t make any difference to them if I were an art consultant or a historian, she thought. Actually, I am a little of both, though on this project, I am the lowest person on the totem pole. Still, I must admit, “historian” sounds so much more elite.
“I am sure you will find we are quite an interesting people,” Ulysses remarked with veiled eyes.
“And fate could not have placed you in a better spot than this, Miss Clayton. The Sovereign estate is known as ‘the Protector of Eros’ Treasures.’ There’s no other place richer in the history of Eros than right here,” Rodney added. “And I see you are most definitely dressed for the part. I do not believe even Ulysses would have artifacts to top that.”
A bizarre giggle surfaced from the end of the table. “That shows how much you know, Sharpe,” Madame Deane replied with a hawkish glare. “But you don’t need to know any more than you do,” she goaded him. “Now that Lenora’s come back, all the evil that has been going on around here is going to stop.”
Nadine felt unnerved by the tiny woman’s outburst, while Ulysses and Rodney passed perturbed understanding looks between them, though the latter was obviously embarrassed by the vehemence of Madame Deane’s verbal assault.
“I believe it is time for your morning medication, Aunt Helen,” Ulysses declared in a comforting but firm voice.
Like a dog caught stealing scraps from the dinner table, Madame Deane nodded her head sulkily, lowering it even further than Nadine thought physically possible.
Rodney took advantage of the moment and announced his departure. “I must be going now. It was nice to meet you, Miss Clayton.” He extended his hand to Nadine. “And Ulysses, Basil says he has some important business to discuss with you if you can find time today. He is too busy to come to Sovereign. So drop by when you get a chance.”
Nadine could see the muscle in Ulysses’ jaw contract and expand.
“That is, if you have the time, Ulysses,” Rodney added sheepishly.
“I will see,” was Ulysses’ only reply.
Rodney left as Catherine entered with a steaming pan of hot conkies and a pitcher of cold coconut water. The spicy smell of pumpkin, sweet potato, raisins, and coconut floated beneath Nadine’s nose, making her stomach reply quietly to the aroma.
“Like Master Ulysses said, it is time for your medication, madame,” Catherine stated as she placed the food on the table.
At first Madame Deane snatched away from the housekeeper, and pushed her lower lip out like a pouting child. Then her tiny head turned in Ulysses’ direction, and she looked up at him with cowering eyes. He gazed back with a compassionate but firm look. She sat back in her wheelchair, and with a resigned sigh allo
wed Catherine to roll her away.
Nadine had no idea what to say, so to busy herself, and appease her hunger, she placed fresh slices of mango and tangerine on her plate along with a cup of yogurt. Ulysses preferred the conkies and coconut water that had been provided especially for him, and for a few moments they prepared their plates in silence.
Now that they were alone Nadine’s confidence in her charade began to ebb. Feeling nervous, she tried to give the impression of finding the slices of fruit and the yogurt more interesting to look at than the man that sat before her. Ulysses on the other hand seemed content to sit back, relaxed, with an open banana leaf in hand, never once removing his eyes from Nadine’s face.
“I have never met an African-American historian from the United States before,” Ulysses stated as he continued to watch her.
“Oh, well. Here I am in living color.” Nadine let go a nervous laugh. “Some of my ancestors were from Africa and even this part of the world,” she lamely explained.
“I see.” He placed more food in his mouth. “It is different for me. My mother was African. She was an Egyptian. So my blood is half-African and half-British. I believe I know which one runs the hottest inside me.” He stared into her eyes. “I claim both of them. But I was born of my mother’s body, and therefore I hold my Egyptian heritage close to my heart.”
“I can understand that,” Nadine replied, somehow relieved. It made her feel Ulysses Deane was not as taboo as she first thought.
“So, Miss Clayton, does your research into our history include interviewing the people of Eros?”
She released a breath she did not realize she was holding. Nadine felt safe with the subject at hand. “Why, yes, it does, Mr. Deane. Along with reading your literature and uncovering your legends, if any. Could you tell me where to begin?”
Ulysses’ dark eyes narrowed before he answered, “Yes, I could. With me.”