Merlicious 2

by Diane Merlin, Alexis Ke, Cara North

  "Most of it, anyway. I had to use some of it for supplies I needed pretty desperately.” Andy added, “Anyway, it's kind of a moot point. My parents have decided that it is more important to keep me sculpting. The MFA—Masters of Fine Arts—can wait."

  "MFA, huh? Does that mean you already earned your BFA?"

  He nodded. “During my BFA graduation presentation, I got a couple of terrific sales that made it possible to move here and set up my studio in the back of the barn. Of course, it wasn't enough to supply me with a home and food and all, but I get along.” He paused as he turned into the drive of the art center. “That's especially true since I sleep in my studio and cook here as well.” He looked startled at her chagrined expression. “It's only a temporary expedient. Soon I'll have enough to get a real place to live. In the meantime, I manage."

  Once he'd parked, he lifted her out of the car and into her chair. With her strong arms, she could easily make the move herself, but the slightest possibility of an accident put fear in her. Abruptly, as she sat there, she grew concerned she might be unable to be a real friend to him, and she began to contemplate a return to her isolated life. Well, she thought, it's too late now. She decided to worry about it later, once she fulfilled her commitment to the mermaid.

  She wheeled into the cavernous barn. All around her stood or hung works of art, some absolutely fabulous. She dashed through the not yet open gallery to Andy's studio as quickly as her arms could propel her. She didn't want to waste time dawdling. He followed her in and showed her where he wanted her to sit. In front of her loomed a dais with a rock shape on top covered in a deep gray fabric.

  "Can you get up there yourself or do you want me to lend a hand?"

  "I think I'd like some help.” She disliked appearing helpless. Her independence was so precious it almost caused her physical pain to relinquish it.

  He grinned, clearly eager to serve her. Without a word, he swung her up in his arms and gently placed her on the imitation rock, her face pointed toward the window on the north wall of the studio. The slight haze outside dissipated the full effect of the sun so that the light through the glass didn't distress her eyes. She rearranged her lap cover and shifted her torso to partially face him.

  "Yes. Hold that pose.” He stopped and added, “Let me know if it becomes too tedious. I'm inclined to get very involved in my work and may forget your needs."

  She laughed, “I'm good at making a fuss. If I get tired, I'll tell you."

  He grinned at her and began to sketch on a huge newsprint pad. Sketch after sketch he rejected, ripping them out of the book and tossing them on the floor. After several failed tries, Andy asked her to take another pose.

  She moved around, shifting her whole body. She realized that the former pose had grown uncomfortable, so the change proved wonderful. The new position gave her a whole different view of the studio. Instead of the beautiful sunny patio in back, she now faced Andy's limited living space.

  On a long table made from half a sheet of plywood panel sat a hot plate, a microwave, a coffeemaker and assorted bits and pieces of daily life. A cot, narrow and not very long, stood pushed to one wall, covered neatly with a clean looking blanket. It looked like Army and Navy store merchandise. Or possibly, she thought, thrift store. At any rate, it met his basic needs. On the two windows hung colorful fabrics, yardage not hemmed or in any other way improved. Two old arm chairs with faded upholstery completed the ensemble.

  "Sorry to make you look at my corner of the world. Not too edifying, is it?” He smiled. “Would you rather I shift you back? You may have noticed I just keep going around you as I work. That's to get you on all sides. The main reason I shift your pose is to relieve you. I can easily walk around any position you take."

  "No, I'm fine. Besides, while pretty sparse, your corner is nice and clean. Hardly an eyesore."

  He laughed and kept on sketching, all the time doing his drawing from one angle or another while he continued to walk around her. The sheets of newsprint kept piling up as he worked quickly. At last, he seemed to run out of steam.

  She watched him as he worked, and her admiration of his beauty grew. A sense of melancholy overtook her as she observed him. His attractiveness tugged at her, yet somehow any real spark between them was missing.

  She continued to cogitate, her concentration broken when he said, “Time for a break. Let's sit in my elegant parlor and have a soft drink or iced tea. What is your pleasure?"

  "An iced tea sounds heavenly. Is it sweetened?"

  "I drink mine plain, with a squeeze of lemon. Very decadent. Maybe even a bit feminine."

  "Not at all. My father used to say unsweetened tea with lemon put hair on your chest.” She laughed. “Fortunately it didn't happen that way for me.” She blushed suddenly, as though her little anecdote was an indiscretion.

  Andy laughed. “My dad used to say that, too. It worked better for me."

  As she recalled the time she watched him sleep on the beach and then swim away, heat suffused her face. Her little excursion into voyeurism still embarrassed her, even though she realized it was unavoidable. Incredibly, she thought, that moment happened only days ago. She felt as though she had known him a long time.

  Andy arranged cushions on a box for her legs then carried her to a chair behind the table. Despite his strength and his ability to smash rock when he needed to, his hands felt gentle when he handled her. She appreciated that while at the same time wishing he would stop treating her as though she were fragile china. He didn't do that the day they met, and she appreciated that about him from the start.

  She fretted a bit about how her legs may have felt to him as he held her in his arms. Except for her parents and her lifelong doctor, no one ever had such intimate contact with her. She didn't like it but could think of no way around it short of rudeness.

  They sipped their tea with a minimum of conversation. He seemed engrossed in some drawing problem he couldn't quite solve. For Dolly, the quiet released her from having to think of things to say.

  When she returned to modeling, she realized how tired she had grown. Maintaining her body, especially her legs, in so twisted a position had become painful. She hoped the session would end soon so she wouldn't have to call it finished.

  After only a few minutes, Andy sighed. “That's it for today, Dolly. How are you holding up?"

  "I'm ready to call it quits, if you are. My body is not used to doing this kind of thing, and it's starting to hurt."

  "Sorry.” His face creased with concern. “When I get into my work, I lose track of time. I really don't want to kill you, despite the evidence.” He chuckled and reached to lift her again.

  "If you wheel my chair over and turn it slightly, I can get myself moved. You don't have to haul me around like a sack of potatoes."

  He laughed again and swung her into his arms, placing her carefully in her chair in one graceful movement. Despite his casual assumption that he knew best, she could not dispel her fascination with the rippling muscles in his arms and shoulders. All that banging away at rock seemed good for his physique. She recalled the sight of those muscles with sea water flowing over them like a stream over river rock, and the memory was seductive. In some ways, she wished all that beauty could pull her heart to the man.

  By the time they reached the gallery, people had arrived and demanded Andy's presence. Ignoring her achy weariness, she nodded for him to go. She figured he would work his way back to her soon.

  Newcomers strolled casually from painting to painting, sculpture to sculpture, hanging to hanging, all the time making comments. They pointed out to each other all the aspects they loved or disliked about each displayed work. Fascinated with their conversations, she waited uncomplainingly for Andy's return. From their comments, she surmised that the area had become a veritable hive of art critics.

  Shortly after he went off, someone leaned over her and said, “I'm here to take you to a place of safety, away from the mad mob."

  Alarmed, Dolly looked up. R
ay's eyes glistened with fun as he spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

  "Oh, Ray, you startled me.” She couldn't resist a smile. He just seemed to drip fun like honey from hot toast. “How did you know I was still here?"

  "If you strain your brain, you'll remember I am your nearest neighbor.” He began to maneuver her chair toward the wide barn doors. “Besides, I've been wooing your mother in your absence."

  Dolly laughed, picturing her very serious mother wooed by this entertaining man. Then she recalled that, in his own way, her father had joked quite a lot like Ray, using his banter and little pranks to keep his unusual daughter from despair. She would not have made it through all the medical tests without his laughter and whimsy.

  "What about Andy? He brought me.” She looked around but saw no sign of him. A group of women clustered near the refreshment table, and she thought she caught a glimpse of his blond head.

  "I've already taken care of him. He's going to be involved a while, and I think he was grateful when I arrived to take you away."

  Though grateful too, she didn't enjoy being treated like an object needing transport from place to place. As Ray wheeled her out, they passed Andy in an intense conversation with a young woman in scanty shorts and halter. Dolly gaped in distress to realize that she felt a little jealous seeing them together.

  Ray, clearly tuned in to her, said, “The owner of a gallery on the mainland. She's looking for some of his work to show there."

  Uncomfortable with Ray's insight, she blushed. “I guess the show did him all kinds of good. I'm glad for him.” She didn't like the way she sounded. Her voice echoed in her ears with a resonance of envy and jealousy, embarrassing her.

  Ray pushed her to his car, a modern station wagon that looked as long as a train beside the trendy little cars around it. She wondered why a single man would require so huge a vehicle.

  Almost as though reading her mind, he said, “I use the car some during the school year. I can pile a fair number of kids and their equipment inside. Then all I have to worry about is the noise.” He laughed.

  Already convinced of his devotion to his job, she saw this as further confirmation.

  They neared her house, and Ray said, “I'd like to take you and your mother out on the boat. Are you interested?"

  "Oh, I am,” she replied, pleased. “It sounds wonderful.” The thought of skimming over the waves in his boat thrilled her.

  "Well, I just happened to leave it near your house. I'm sure you must know about the old dock that for years has been just down the beach from your house. That's where I left it."

  "I didn't know it was safe."

  "Oh, yes. I tested it myself. It looks pretty scruffy, but it is solid. Whoever built it intended it to last."

  "Then by all means, let's go.” Her excitement mounted as they neared the boat until she thought she might burst with it.

  * * * *

  Ray carried her aboard, and her mother followed. Dolly hoped he wouldn't sense how thrilled she felt to be doing this. Looking around, she noticed that the boat contained more space and better equipment than she expected. She commented on that.

  "It was my dad's. When he had to give it up last year, he sold it to me for a pittance. He wanted it to stay in the family."

  "Well, it's lovely, and I am grateful for the invitation."

  When they set off, they paralleled the shoreline for a distance before passing Lookout Rock, and she found herself searching the water and the beach just in case Andy had pulled free of his questioners and gone swimming. No swimmer appeared.

  As they headed into open water, Ray opened up the powerful engine, and the boat's prow lifted. She felt exhilarated. Mrs. McDonald grabbed onto the handholds near her seat. Dolly grasped hers and laughed joyfully as their speed increased. She had never before felt so free of her disability when out of the water.

  Ray toured them along the shore, the engine's power suppressed as they passed the town and its buildings. A number of boats chugged past them. She could see the downtown shopping area then the barn where she had posed just a short time earlier. Andy came out, and she waved. He waved back and headed toward his car.

  Too soon, the wonderful boat ride ended, and they returned to the dock near her house. Her wheelchair waited just where she had left it, brake set, on the dock. She let Ray help her back into it. While his arms did not bulge with heavy muscles like Andy's did, it was obvious that he had considerable strength as well.

  Back home, Mrs. McDonald invited him to stay for a light dinner. Dolly realized her mother had taken to the young teacher. She didn't know just how she felt about him, but she enjoyed having him around. His sense of fun and lighthearted approach to life helped both her and her mother as they coped with their life difficulties.

  "How did you come to settle in our insignificant town?” Ray asked with a smile that lightened the question.

  Dolly looked askance at her mother.

  Mrs. McDonald chose to answer for both of them. “I suppose it was the combination of my husband's death and Dolly's disability.” She smiled at him. “We felt the need for privacy, and at the same time Dolly needed to be near the ocean. This area was so sparsely settled that it seemed the best choice. Not quite an island, yet not part of the mainland."

  Dolly added, “My mother was raised in a place similar to this, and she and my father lived there a number of years. So you see how she might feel at home here, as well."

  "I understand how you feel because it's how I feel, too. I was born here and attended the same high school where I teach. I only left when I did some military service and then when I attended college. As soon as I could, I came home.” Ray angled his head to one side. “I understand the need to be around the ocean. The short times I was away were a peculiar form of torment for me.” He sighed and said, “It's getting late, and I shouldn't keep you up longer."

  Dolly looked outside. Hazy purple, watery red and faded yellow striped the horizon. The sky managed to appear as though submerged under the water. The separation between sky and sea melded so as to be nearly indiscernible.

  She pulled her chair over then swung herself in with deft movements. As she did so, her lap cover slipped aside and exposed her legs. Ray did not appear to notice, so she tugged it back in place, chastising herself for her carelessness. What would she do if he saw her and asked questions?

  Shaky from the threat of exposure, she accompanied him to his van. As she thanked him and they said their good nights, she searched his face in the illumination from her strong porch light, hoping to discern any sign that he had noticed. His countenance revealed nothing.

  Inside the house, she expressed her fear to her mother.

  Mrs. McDonald replied with a touch of acerbity. “Someday, someone will see your legs, unless you totally avoid all contact with other people, and I must confess that your present activities convince me that isn't going to happen."

  Dolly felt heat rise in her face and wished she could get rid of that Celtic tendency. She hated the blushes that telegraphed her feelings so clearly. “Do you think I'm wrong to spend time with Andy and Ray as I do?"

  "Wrong? I don't know what's wrong and what's right for you, Dolly. I am afraid sometimes that you'll get in too deep and be terribly hurt.” Mrs. McDonald sighed. “At the same time, I don't want you to be lonely. Lonely women tend to become angry and frustrated and take it out on anyone they can."

  "I think I could be like that if I didn't have you and my swimming to keep me sane. But it has been lonely, Mom.” Instantly, she regretted her words, afraid they sounded like an accusation.

  "I know that, dear. I am constantly amazed at how well you do with your restrictions."

  "I guess it was going to the art show and meeting Andy that started me thinking that way. It pointed out my need for friends. Then Ray showed up, too..."

  Mrs. McDonald stood up slowly. “Well, it's time for bed. We can't second guess the way your life is going to go, any more than we could when you were a child and yo
ur dad and I didn't know where to turn. It was the grace of God that sent us to the clinic.” She sighed. “Now we just have to wait until the doctors decide if anything can be done."

  "I really doubt it at my age. But things will work out somehow."

  She smiled, wished her mother goodnight and then wheeled into her room. She maneuvered to her bedside chair where she proceeded to get into her nightgown. She turned toward her mirror. She couldn't see anything there that should attract these men she so recently met.

  With her very pale skin, her coppery hair and her plain face, she was no siren. Maybe her mouth that always seemed on the verge of laughter appealed to them. Or perhaps her prominent cheekbones interested them. She had read that cheekbones could be attractive. She giggled at her fantasizing. She swung into bed and settled down with a cozy story before sleeping.

  * * * *

  Dolly dreamed that she found her home beneath the sea. When she looked at her legs, they wore shining scales from her hips down and ended in a mobile tail that twisted and turned as though it had a life of its own. Her naked torso did not embarrass her since her skin had a coating of glistening substance that appeared translucent, making her breasts and arms and upper body appear clothed in sequins as they flowed and merged into her tail. Her tail?

  Startled, she flung herself in an ‘s’ curve. As she twirled about, she fairly flew through the water. She dove deeper and deeper and watched small colorful fish swim past, oblivious. She knew she couldn't be as deep as it felt because their jewel-like colors remained; the blues, turquoises, yellows and reds vibrating through the water like flickering rays of the sun.

  Suddenly, from above came a shaft of yellow-white light that penetrated the water's depths like a knife through soft butter. Sliding down the light beam, as though on a surfboard, appeared the figure of a man. He held his strong arms motionless in front of him. Then, as she looked again, she asked herself if she truly saw a man. The lower part of his body ended, as hers did, in a long pliable tail that shimmered and changed color as the water and light crossed it, like an underwater rainbow.