Where Dreams Unfold

by M. L. Buchman

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You look more natural,” Perrin told him. “Your skin is warmer, more alive, but the costumes look kind of the same.”

  Richard slid the gel in and out a few times.

  In exasperation Jaspar had her trade places with him.

  “Her skin is so light, you can really see it,” Richard said before dropping the gel back in.

  Beyond the bright light, she could see Jaspar nodding. “I couldn’t see it so much up close. It’s kind of too much for her, isn’t it.”

  “Try some of the others.”

  Jaspar started holding one after another in front of the lens without putting them in the slot.

  “The red makes her look all blotchy, even worse than the fake amber.”

  When he tried a green filter, Perrin did her best to make frog noises.

  “Ick! What’s that for?”

  Richard laughed, “You usually use it behind people for landscape scenes, underwater like for the Rhinemaidens in Wagner’s Ring, or even a darker one for dangerous forest.”

  Jaspar made a couple more changes then declared, “This one makes her look nicest.”

  “Good eye. That one is a good match for her skin. But now look at the costumes behind her.”

  “Uh,” Jaspar studied them. “It’s okay if she’s the Princess or the True Love, but it totally sucks if she’s the Empress.”

  “Well, I’m no Empress, so we’re all safe there.” Perrin turned around to look at the costumes as Jerimy and Richard laughed. “You’re right, Jaspar. That’s nasty.”

  They shared a smile.

  “You see, Jaspar,” Richard began making notes, “there’s no perfect lighting. It’s a balancing act and compromises.”

  Mika came in with the makeup cards and they soon passed beyond where Perrin could follow. It was a language as unique as her own about texture and line. It was the language of light, and she could see Jaspar absorbing it just sitting there at Richard’s side.

  # # #

  Two nights later, Perrin almost didn’t answer when she saw Bill’s number on the phone. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. There was too much to un-say and too much that couldn’t be said yet. Not while everything was so out of order. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Well, perhaps he would know.

  Finally, steeling her nerves, she answered.

  “Hi, Ms. Williams.”

  “Tamara,” she fell back and was thankful for the stool behind her when she landed on it.

  “Uh, I have to be quick. I had to use Dad’s phone to get your number. You aren’t mad at us, are you? At…me?” The girl’s voice nearly cracked from the strain.

  “Oh god no, Tamara. Never mad at you. Feeling like an idiot six different ways, but never mad.”

  Tamara sniffled slightly. “That’s what Jasp said, but I didn’t believe him. Guess I should have. The little troll is always right. Jasp wore the sling and the sword today at rehearsal; it looked great.”

  “That’s good.” Perrin knew she was missing something. Jaspar had told Tammy thet Perrin wouldn’t be mad. Did that mean that maybe Bill wasn’t…

  “We don’t have rehearsal tomorrow night. Can you come over for dinner?”

  It was a good thing she was sitting down so that she didn’t fall down.

  “Uh, who’s asking?”

  “Jasp’s idea. Something about maybe we just needed to try each other on for size. I make a pretty good lasagna.”

  “I’ll bring a salad,” some autonomic part of her responded.

  “Cool, we’ll be home by six. ‘By—”

  “Tamara?”

  “What?”

  “Does your dad know?”

  “Nope. Don’t tell.” And the connection went dead.

  # # #

  Perrin had found a new level of “completely nervous” that she’d never known existed. If she could have called back to beg off, she would have. But if she called on Bill’s phone, she’d get Bill. And she didn’t have the numbers for the kids’ emergency-only cell phones. Her level of nerves definitely ranked as emergency, the national-level kind, call out the Red Cross and the National Guard.

  She couldn’t even think of what to wear. She almost called Maria before deciding that she just needed to breathe deeply. She wasn’t going to dinner with the King and Queen, no matter how it felt. A dress was too far over the top. A skirt probably too much as well.

  What would she wear for a casual evening at home? Tattered and faded Vassar College sweatpants and a fleece hoodie sweatshirt were her usual first choices. Too far the other way. She really needed to get a grip.

  Perrin finally settled on jeans and sandals with some crazy-colored socks that Patsy had made for her from something she called magic yarn, the opera t-shirt, and the fleece hoodie just because she needed the extra level of security.

  She was fifteen minutes early and drove past the house to park on a back street to just sit and wait. As the minutes stretched, her nerves became so bad, she knew she wouldn’t make it the whole time without deciding to go home. With five minutes to go, she drove up to the house.

  Perrin had sat in the kitchen once before, after dropping off Tammy, but she’d been too wired to notice much. Now she was so hyped up that she noticed everything.

  Their house was in the Greenwood neighborhood, just a few miles north of downtown; a remodel of a remodel of a remodel Bill had informed her. The street was steep and narrow, enough room for two cars to pass, if they were careful and everyone parked close to the one curb that had parking.

  The blue-gray two-story house with forest-green shutters and trim had a surprising amount of privacy in the crowded neighborhood. It stood on a rise a dozen steps above street level behind a massive old hawthorn tree. The porch light was on and she could see the living room light through the original diamond-cut window.

  When she klonked the big brass door knocker, it felt as if it echoed throughout the quiet neighborhood. “Here be an interloper!” it announced. The desire to turn and run surged through her again, defeated by being too nervous to do any running. She thought she heard someone call out, “Dad, can you get the door?”

  Oh crap!

  Then the door was open. Bill stood there, backlit by the bright living room and looking really, really good in bare feet, jeans, and an open flannel shirt over a blue t-shirt.

  “Perrin?” he barely managed a whisper.

  She might have to kill Tamara and the conspiring Jaspar later, but for the kids’ sake, she took the bit. Clearly it was up to her to make it work.

  “I was invited to dinner by your children. That is, if you’re willing to invite me into your house.”

  “The kids?” His eyes widened and his jaw dropped like in an old, silent movie.

  She tried to fight down the smile, but knew she wasn’t succeeding. “I brought a salad.” Perrin held out the covered bowl as if that would make everything make sense.

  Bill closed his mouth, then both his eyes. He opened one as if checking that she was still standing there. Then he looked up toward the ceiling, “Thank you, God.” He almost launched himself at her, but stopped when she warned him off with a slight shake of her head.

  His careful nod acknowledged both the wisdom and the regret of that choice. Then he held open the door and she walked in.

  “Well at least that explains the lasagna mystery.”

  She looked over at his whisper.

  “It’s Tammy’s signature ultra-special-occasion dish. She cooks a couple nights a week to help me out, but we don’t get her lasagna very often. It’s good. That little sneak.”

  The front door opened right into the living room. It was comfortable rather than being austere. More bookcases than art. A couple of well-used couches and chairs sat on a rug that had definitely seen years of children. A big, octagonal c
offee table that appeared to have sixteen different projects on it, as well as three relatively clear spaces where they probably set their dinners on most nights. A big television hung to one side, though not one of the monsters—available, but not the center of attention. She could easily see them all hanging out here together.

  Bill took the salad bowl, brushing her hand as he did so. The electric shock shook her. Distance and time had increased her reaction to him rather than decreased it. Standing here, barefoot in the center of his domain, he was so incredibly, perfectly male. His eyes darkened just looking at her. Well, at least that hadn’t changed between them.

  Perrin turned away to continue the tour.

  A wide, carpeted stairway led up to what must be the bedrooms. Off the other side of the living room, was a pair of rooms connected with an open arch.

  “Our offices, though they spread bigger projects out over the dining room table for weeks at a time. We actually don’t get to eat at it much.” Perrin peeked in. Two smaller desks were in the front part of the room. They were mostly neat, though it was easy to see which was which. The wall around Tamara’s had numerous fashion magazine photo spreads torn out and taped up. The growth looked fairly recent. Jaspar’s was actually neater, mostly dinosaurs and a half-dozen well-done model airplanes dangling overhead from bits of thread. A book open on the desk had a diagram just like the one Richard had been using to map out his stage lighting design.

  Beyond the arch, was Bill’s larger desk, that looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. A new facet to the man, so terribly organized in his public life. She liked that he had a messy side.

  “It’s all so…normal, Bill. You’ve made a magnificent home for them.”

  He stood beside her looking about the room as if he’d never seen it before. His glance at her registered that he was aware in this moment of just how different it was from her own childhood, and that maybe she could judge better than he did.

  “Think about it. How many kids share an office with their dad?”

  “I, uh… It just seemed the right way to use the space when I did it.” Then he finally nodded, acknowledging that maybe he hadn’t done so badly after all, as if there was any doubt.

  On the far side of the living room from the front door, they stepped into the connected dining room and kitchen, separated only by a long counter with a gap in the middle. It was the only part of the house she really remembered from her prior visit. Last time Jaspar had been asleep, or had been pretending to be, Tamara headed that way, and the front room was dark. Now there were lights on everywhere and an oldies station playing.

  Bill rolled his eyes when he saw her noticing it. It was as if the kids thought she and Bill had been adults in the 1960s rather than the twenty-first century.

  Jaspar greeted her with a quick wave from where he was busy half-tossing a fourth setting at the table one-handed. Apparently that was all he was willing to offer, but she was glad to wave back.

  “Scamp,” Bill accused him and received back a glowing smile for his insult.

  Tamara ran out of the kitchen area and, after only the briefest hesitation, threw herself into Perrin’s arms. They held each other hard, like sisters too long apart. She kissed Tamara on top of her head. Then, continuing to forget all of her hard-won thirteen-year-old decorum, Tamara rushed back into the kitchen to make sure everything was all right.

  The last room was a big space beyond the dining room. It had tools, toys, some miscellaneous furniture, and a forlorn-looking vacuum cleaner. A room they didn’t use much.

  “The house was really too big for us, but the kids fell in love with it, and it’s right near a very good school.”

  Perrin smiled slightly as she moved to help Jaspar light candles and Bill headed into the kitchen to assist his daughter. Perrin only now noticed that once through the door, she’d relaxed. Somehow, all of her nerves had remained out on the porch.

  # # #

  Bill considered simply slipping under the table in a small puddle of contentment. In some ways this meal had been less casual than the dressed up dinner. It felt a little foreign to be eating at the dining table. Also, he’d been far more aware of the dynamics as the conversation had ranged over school projects, books, and the upcoming opening at the Opera.

  Tammy was so glad to have Perrin sitting at the table that she was even more incoherent than Bill was. Jaspar was now the one he was being forced to see differently. How was it that his children kept growing up around Perrin? One moment he’d be wondering what it must be like to ride an elephant as Kim did in Kipling’s tale. The next, he’d be watching Perrin and his interactions as if they were lab animals to be observed.

  Tammy had told Bill more than once that Jaspar was really smart about people. Now he could see it. But he could also see that his son would make a fearsome poker player some day—he was far too good at keeping his thoughts to himself. He felt sad, the boy’s spontaneity was another thing Adira had taken with her to the grave.

  “Okay, Tamara,” Perrin sighed happily. “You have to feed that lasagna to Angelo some night, it will make him crazy it’s so good.”

  Perrin’s compliment had Tammy positively beaming. She was first to stand from the table and started to gather plates.

  “Cut that out,” Bill told her. “You cooked. Cook doesn’t clean.”

  “But Jasp can’t—”

  “Grownups will clean up. We still know how. C’mere.”

  She came straight into his arms.

  He held her tightly and whispered in her ear. “You did it perfect, honey. I’m so proud of you.” Then he raised his voice, “Now scoot, I’m sure your homework is waiting for you somewhere.”

  She scooted, with a hop and a skip she hadn’t had since Jaspar broke his arm last week. He was shocked at how much he missed it, how easily he took her naturally bright nature for granted. He had to cut that out and remember what a gift she was. That both of them were.

  “And you,” he aimed a finger at Jaspar who was just clambering out of his chair. He was already a little gawky, just as Bill had been at that age before he’d started to really hit the growth spurts. “I don’t know what your part was in this, but whatever it was, you did it right.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Oddly, rather than coming to his chair, he went to stand by Perrin. The two of them had some form of silent communication that he couldn’t follow.

  “You’re okay,” Jaspar finally informed her so quietly Bill could barely hear it.

  “Thank you,” Perrin mouthed just as softly.

  Then Jaspar was gone.

  “What was all that about?” Bill asked her.

  Perrin went coy. Her black-and-blond hair swirling across to hide her features as she stood and looked down to begin gathering plates.

  “Perrin?”

  “Jaspar and I appear to have negotiated a truce, perhaps even a peaceable settlement.”

  “Really, how did you do it?” Bill looked out into the living room as if he’d be able to discern the change inside his son wrought by the amazing Perrin Williams, but Jaspar was long gone.

  “I didn’t,” she headed to the kitchen with the first stack of plates. “He did. Jaspar’s the one who invited me tonight, convinced Tamara to cook her best meal for me.”

  Bill tried to get out of his chair to help. Really he did. But he couldn’t seem to manage it. His children were just as mysterious and astonishing as the woman making herself at home in his kitchen.

  Chapter 20

  Perrin arrived several hours early for the opening night of Ascension. She dropped off a clothes bag with Jerimy, though strictly forbade his opening it. Her opening night dress still hung at her shop, where she’d meet up with her friends for the “official” arrival at the Opera House, but she couldn’t wait.

  Though the theater was pretty quiet still, the air vibrated. It took a little
time to track down Bill. Perrin had expected him to be at the center of some whirlwind, instead he was sitting quietly reading through his own notes in his office.

  She leaned on the door for a while and simply enjoyed watching his neat movements. Studying a page of the score, adding a tiny note in the margin, then checking it again before moving on. She could watch his hands for hours and never know discontent.

  “Anywhere we can go for a quiet picnic?”

  When he turned to smile at her, she raised the wicker basket with the red-and-white cloth that she’d put together herself in some fit of excessive domesticity.

  “I have the kids. They’re next door doing their homework. I know it’s Friday, but with performances tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday matinee, I figured sooner was better.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Perrin readjusted her libido a bit, but not much. She’d expected the kids to be around and had filled the basket for four. “But somewhere quiet so that you get a break. All three of you probably need it.”

  The kids didn’t complain for a second about escaping schoolwork. Bill took her hand, and Jaspar didn’t appear to mind, though it was clear that he noticed.

  “There’s this one place…” Bill led them to an elevator that went up several stories.

  Perrin could hear in his tone that it was a place that had other possibilities if they were ever alone here. The elevator opened to another linoleum corridor, but through a heavy door they entered another world. A narrow steel catwalk led off into the darkness. Tiny lights hung on the railing about every ten feet.

  It was Jaspar who pulled her up to the edge and then pointed down. They were at the very top of the stage, way farther above the floor than the audience ever saw. Down below she could see the set like a doll’s house.

  What on stage was a thirty-foot high wall of impenetrable forest, looked like a child’s play set from up here. It was actually a series of a dozen trees that would disappear upward into the “fly loft” where they stood right now, an area just as big and tall as the stage right above it. The space was also occupied with other pieces of sets, lights and cables, and a dozen things she couldn’t even identify.