Leah!
And then the whisper again. Careful, Katey-did.
Her heart pounded thickly in her chest. She was panting and her legs suddenly began to tremble. Dear God. It had been so close. The sound of the truck still echoed in her ears. How had they missed each other?
For long minutes Kate drove automatically, very carefully, very slowly, but her mind was shocked into numbness.
Leah had warned her. This time there was no doubt that her words had been meant in warning. Later she'd think about Leah's spirit leaving the house and what that might mean, but just now it was enough to know that Leah came to her aid when she was in danger.
Kate sagged against the seat belt. The rear window was dark.
Leah was gone.
Thirteen
Dancing Ladies
Oncidium Varicosum, the Dancing Lady, is a familiar name for all oncidiums. Comes in bright yellow and/or brown, lavender, white, etc., flowers about two inches across. The full skirt of the blossom resembles a lady in a ball gown gracefully dancing on long stems. Sometimes called Dancing Dolls.
Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, and with one hand she dashed them away. The view out the back window was now as unrevealing as the front. The world was enveloped in a thick blanket of gray fog. There were no car lights to illuminate whatever had been etched on the glass, and Kate had no idea what had happened to the beaming light that had been so brilliant from behind. It was just gone.
She banged the flat of one hand on the steering wheel. “What are you doing? Leah! Damn you. Talk to me!"
She wanted to clutch her head with both hands and rock back and forth, but did not dare take even one hand off the wheel. Visibility was even worse than it had been earlier. The fog abruptly disappeared and rain began again, sheeting down as if she were beneath a waterfall.
"Leah,” she said aloud, swallowing around the thickness in her throat, “Is it really you? What do you want? Are you still mad about Cass? Is it that I'm living in our house? Are you angry because I'm alive and you aren't? I'm sorry about that. You'll never know how sorry I am. If I could live that afternoon over again, you must know I would. But I don't know what you want. Max says you talk to him, why not me? Why not me?"
There was no answer. The only sound was the steady beat of rain on the car and the slap of windshield wipers as they struggled to keep up with the deluge.
"You warned me about the truck a minute ago. Is that all you're going to say? What about the tormenting stuff back at the house?"
Her heart was a huge, heavy stone in her breast. Yet, for some reason she didn't comprehend, she felt a very strong connection to Leah at that moment. Almost as if they were sitting side by side, as they often did as teens, in the front seat of the car. She felt strangely comforted and at the same time, half angry. Leah was playing games again. Well, two could play at that. Maybe it would be good to remind Leah of the good times.
"Remember sitting on the rug in front of the fire and stringing cranberries with a needle and thread for the Christmas tree? Or popcorn. You always liked popcorn best because you could eat it as we strung. The needle was Mom's old tapestry needle, long and curved. Remember? It's in Grandma's sewing table now. And all the years we made red and green construction paper chains? Mom hung every one of them somewhere. Up the banister in the stairwell, around mirrors, draped inside the branches of the Christmas tree. We made popcorn balls at Halloween for trick or treat, too, and one year won a prize at the Community Hall for the best costume. We went as twin ‘I Dream of Jeanies'."
She was almost home. Another ten minutes and she'd be running up the walk at Ruby June's to pick up Max. Was Leah listening?
"We used to love staying all night at Grandma and Grandpa's. We climbed their apple tree, and one summer we read every Nancy Drew mystery we could get our hands on, swaying high up in the breeze. Grandpa would make ice cream in the hand-crank freezer and Grandma always ate too fast and got a pain in her head."
The memory created a soft cuddly moment. Early mornings with frost rimming the windows, sitting at the kitchen table smearing grape jam on buttered toast and idly swinging Mickey Mouse-clad, slippered feet. Sometimes they'd eaten Grandma's “black jelly,” as they'd called it, on toast when they came in from dates. So many dates, on shivery chill nights or on steamy, foggy ones like tonight. Most often together, as the curfew was the same for both of them.
And, a bubble of laughter caught in her throat. There was the time they'd bought a bottle of Pouilly-Fuisse, sneaked it home and up to their room, and drank most of it in the dark, sharing the bottle between them. The headache in the morning convinced than to never, ever, do it again. Somehow, they convinced Mom they had a twenty-four hour flu bug and stayed in bed all day.
The road unfolded in front of the car foot by foot. The high beams were no good at all, and the low beams picked up only a few feet of the narrow strip of road ahead and nothing beyond the edges of the highway. This was weather the deer most liked and Kate could only pray none chose this moment to leap across the road in front of her.
"One summer you scared us all half to death by going to the basement and sticking the ice pick through your blouse and into a catsup-stained cork. You came up the cellar steps groaning and clutching the handle of the ice pick with catsup oozing between your fingers. I thought Grandma was going to have a heart attack when you pulled it out and then you started to laugh! I thought surely Grandpa would blister your bottom for scaring us all so badly, and he only scolded you. You were always his favorite."
Feeling sentimental and soft with remembrance, Kate ran through the rain at Snooky's to pick up the portrait, wrapped in plastic, and made her way slowly down streets where water still stood hub cap deep, to the Junes.
She pulled up in front of their house, behind their car bearing the WUPEDO license plate, and cut the engine. She sat for a minute, immersed in the memories she'd pulled around herself like a warm shawl.
"Remember the year Mom said we could have our hair cut and styled? I didn't want mine any shorter than shoulder-length, but you had yours cut so short that if you hadn't been so dainty and feminine, folks would have thought you were a boy. You could have shaved it all off and been bald as a jelly bean, and you'd still have been the prettiest girl in school.
"I know, we disagreed a lot, too,” she paused and let the nostalgic moment wash over her, “but we had some great times, Leah, and I don't understand why you are doing this now. You'll have to tell me."
Suddenly, it was as if a gush of warm water had been released in her veins. The feeling was born before the thought. “Leah.” Was Leah trying to communicate with her? Trying, indeed, to tell her something? Max said he did not hear any words, he just knew.
The sensation became rapidly warmer and warmer, almost uncomfortably so. “What Leah? Tell me!"
She wasn't afraid. Whatever Leah had in mind now, it wasn't an attempt to frighten or make her nervous. What then? Deliberately, she tried to make her mind blank so that if Leah was trying to communicate, she could. But no words came. Gradually, she realized that something was happening, though. A great peace seemed to flow over her. A sense of rightness flooded through her, so profound that she smiled. She felt, for just an instant, as if she and Leah were having one of their rare moments of oneness. A deep sense of trust and understanding flowing from one part of the whole to another. A thing they had called their own special twin-ness when they were small.
Kate inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling. Oh, she'd missed this sharing with Leah. The times when they'd quarreled faded, the moments when she felt keenly Leah's unfair judgments, hours when Leah had seemed to cut her out of her life. What remained was a meld of memories distilled and blended, some good and some sad, but all precious. Tears of thanksgiving sprang to her eyes. Leah. Truly the bold and the beautiful.
She sat for a long moment before the feeling began to fade and then, basking in a contented glow, she got out of the car and made her way up the walk, through the rain, to collect Max.
As she left the Junes’ house, Max in tow and Babe dashing ahead, she hesitated and turned at the door. “I've heard rumors about someone wanting to buy my house. Repeated offers, as a matter of fact. I'm not considering selling, but I'd surely like to know who is interested. Have you heard anything?"
Ruby June and Pearly June looked at each other and then shook their heads. Pearly June answered. “Nary a soul. But who would want that great barn of a building? Pretty to look at, and valuable too I'd guess, but my stars what a lot of work! Would keep you busy all day, every day, dawn to dark. You'd have to be young to live in your house."
Ruby June echoed her. “If anyone was serious about it, you'd think we'd have heard the rumors in the shop. But, not a whisper. If we do, we'll let you know."
* * * *
After Max had been read a story, tucked in with prayers and was asleep in his own bed, Kate went back downstairs to hang the mended portrait. She stepped back to look at it for a long time, frowning, wondering, and then turned away, steadfastly refusing to speculate about where it had been earlier when she couldn't find it. She was positive it hadn't been in the closet when she looked, but had no explanation for why it had reappeared so magically. So be it. The painting was fixed and hanging above the mantel again, and that was that. She wasn't going to let go of the warm feeling of togetherness with Leah she'd experienced in the car.
Wandering into her workroom, she stopped at her grandmother's sewing table. The unique arrangement of drawers, combined with a revolving door with spindles for different colors of thread had stood in the same spot for Kate's entire life. It wasn't likely she'd ever forget the shock of finding the video tape of a dance recital in the back of one of the drawers. Her father had labeled the tape “Little Dancing Ladies.” Maybe now was the time to look at the tape.
First she had to call Cass and let him know she was home safely.
He answered on the first ring. “Thank God. I was beginning to panic."
"I got Max into bed before I called. I'm sorry you were anxious."
"Yeah. Well. I've seen better nights to be traveling Route 29. And me, personally. I've seen better nights myself, too."
"What was all that, anyway? You were—"
"Look, I'm not usually some tom cat howling on a back fence. I was worried."
"I don't know what to say. It was a business meeting."
"As long as you're okay.” His voice was still a bit testy.
He had been angry, she thought. From what she remembered, the heat in his voice at the time could have thawed ice cubes.
"Were you really mad at me?” she asked.
"I'm not sure,” he muttered. “Probably. But whatever gave you the idea I'd want to control you?"
"I've been there before. And I don't intend to go back. In a relationship, you give over yourself, your will power and control, and I'm not about to surrender all that again."
"Thank God,” he shot back. “I don't want that kind of responsibility."
There was a long pause, then, “What are you doing now?"
Kate glanced at the sewing table. “I'm going to put in a video Dad took a long time ago and look at Leah and me doing a happy dance in tap shoes, and I'm going to remember the good times."
"Do you want to be alone or would it be all right if I came over and watched the tape with you?"
"If you don't think you'd be bored stupid watching a couple of self-conscious five-year-olds on stage, I guess it's okay."
"As it happens, I love five-year-olds. Be right there."
He checked the dead bolt as he came in, closed the door with one foot and reached for her all at the same time. He kissed her once, hard, and shot the dead bolt home with one hand before turning and staring down at her. It had been a kiss of possession. An imprint. Kate could almost see the question in his eyes.
"No,” she said.
"No what?"
"No is the answer to your question."
"You're reading my mind now?"
"I read your eyes, and the answer is no, Joe did not kiss me. I told you, we're business associates and friends. That's all. Satisfied?"
"But he tried. Right?"
"No, he did not try.” She did her best to look innocent. “He gave me a goodbye peck on the cheek."
"You're not telling me something. What did he do?"
Kate sighed. “Joe is an inveterate flirt. He's always trying something. However, the man has a wife whom he apparently loves, since I've never heard anything to the contrary. He'd probably run like a scared squirrel if I ever took him up on anything. He puts no dedication into his flirting. It's just a casual, friendly thing. Part of who he is. It doesn't mean anything. And besides, even if he did—” She frowned.
He let out a gust of air and shook his head. “You're right. And I'm sorry. Am I always this transparent?"
"Not always.” She leaned back in his arms and smiled. “But often enough to make it interesting."
"I give up. Where's this famous tape?"
"On top of the television. You plug it in and set it up while I pour us a cup of coffee."
When she came back with the coffee he was running a hand around the trim of a piecrust table. “This is nice. Your mother's?"
"Yes, but before that I think it belonged to an aunt. The house is full of antiques. But they are precious to me only because they first belonged to people I loved."
She turned to the wall behind her. “That was my grandmother's.” Kate looked lovingly at a painting of a deep blue nighttime sky with stars illuminating a spangled path across ocean waves. It hung between two high-backed navy blue chairs and over a tiny Victorian table with a minuscule pull-out shelf big enough for only a cup of tea.
Kate's eyes scanned the painting. “Grandmother used to say that stars were the angels’ forget-me-nots in a heavenly meadow. She was a home-grown philosopher as well as an artist."
"She painted it? That's where you get your talent then."
"Probably. It's where I get my love of paints. Of color."
"Did Leah paint, too?"
"No. Leah didn't have the patience to paint. She did dance, though, much better than I did. Watch, I'll show you."
Kate flicked the VCR button and after a few squiggly lines and false beginnings, the picture came into view. She and Leah wore matching pink ruffled dresses with large, floppy hats, white gloves and black Mary Janes.
"Wow,” Cass said softly. “You were certainly look-alikes. Your hair is curlier, right? You're the one on the left?"
She grimaced. “My hair has always looked like a Brillo pad. Leah's was more manageable. I envied her that."
"Don't.” He ran a hand across the back of her hair. “I like it as it is."
Kate sighed and sat on the sofa. Cass folded himself down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Any other defining ways to tell you apart?"
"Nothing that I'm going to share."
"Not even me?” He leaned close enough that his breath tickled her ear.
"Especially not you. You told everyone in the third grade when I got a C in math."
"I'm older now and smarter. I'd never tell anyone you got a C in math.” He ran a hand beneath the hair on her neck and pulled her closer.
"I don't..."
He kissed her before she had time to protest. Somewhere in the depths of her brain it registered that she was being downright foolish to let those wonderful quivers run like quicksilver over her body. But, nowhere could she come up with the will to stop them. It felt so good to be touched. To be wanted.
His lips were soft and warm and to her surprise, she realized she felt like butter ready to be molded. Thick and hot and sweet. His tongue traced hers slowly, savoring every second, and she gave herself to him without reservation.
The hand on her waist inched up and sneaked between the buttons until it rested just beneath her breast, waiting. She could feel the heat of his fingers on her bare skin brushing the under side of the gentle swell and—and suddenly, she didn't
have any breath. The room seemed to have been sucked dry of air.
For a long minute she allowed herself to sink into the delicious warmth of being wanted. Then sanity reasserted itself. Madness. This was madness. She pulled away. “This is not a good idea."
"I'm willing to risk it,” he answered, his mouth in her hair behind an ear.
"Cass..."
He held her for a second, reluctant to let go, and then released her. They sat, simply staring at each other, for one long minute, breathing hard. Then his eyelids slammed shut and he threw his head back.
"The video...” she croaked, finally.
"Yeah,” he said, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.
Forcing her eyes away from his dear face, she stared unseeing at the screen until her own breathing slowed. Without another word they watched the tape. Watched two little girls in pink tights, frilly skirts and floppy hats do a simple tap routine while grinning for the camera. Watched and listened to her dad's obviously proud and loving comments about his two little dancing ladies. Watched a fun-loving Leah dance behind Kate and flail her thin arms so that it appeared Kate had four arms. The two of them collapsed giggling, with their arms around each other.
When the screen went blank, Kate got up to rewind and turn it off. She stood staring into space, lost in warm feelings and the sadness of memories of events long gone.
"You were cute kids, both of you."
"Yes. Cute kids. Once."
"Kate—"
"Makes you wonder what happened, doesn't it?” She was all at once wilted, exhausted. Boneless with constant worry. It was the not knowing that was the worst. “I can't begin to imagine why she's doing this now."
Cass got to his feet and came to stand behind her. He wrapped both arms around her and hugged her to him. “We can't speak for her. We know she had a terrible experience and simply couldn't cope with the result."
Kate nodded as her eyes swam with unshed tears. “I would have helped if ... But I did as much as I could.” She bowed her head. She ought to tell him about Leah's appearance in the car tonight.
He turned her and cradled her against his chest. “I know that. I'm sure she knew that, too. The bitterness must have temporarily overwhelmed her. Can you ever forgive her?"
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