Authors: Misha Crews
* * *
In the living room, Fritz had curled up on the rug by the sofa. Christopher’s arm hung down, and he was petting the dog in his sleep. Fritz was smiling, tongue lolling out blissfully as he panted.
Jenna smiled back as she looked at the two of them. “You’re lucky my son likes you so much,” she said to the dog as she reached down to pat his head. “Because most days, you make me crazy.”
Fritz seemed to wink, and his tongue lolled a bit more.
Jenna reached down and adjusted her sleeping son, tucking his arm back on the sofa so it wouldn’t ache when he woke up.
“Watch him for me,” Jenna said to Fritz, as if the dog could understand her. “I’m going upstairs for a few minutes.”
The small room at the end of the short hallway had been used for storage ever since Jenna and Bud had moved into the house years earlier. They needed it, too, since Bud was an incurable pack rat, and Jenna found that she, too, had many things she didn’t want to let go. Most of Bud’s things were still here, as were her father’s personal effects, few though they were.
Jenna moved briskly inside the crowded space. Memories were huddled in every corner of this room, and she didn’t have the heart to go exploring the past today. She was looking for something specific, and she knew right where it was.
In the far corner of the room, wedged between the wall and Lucien’s old footlocker, was a long object, a few inches thick and wrapped in white cloth. She had to lean over several boxes to reach it, and she pulled it out gingerly so as not to scratch or tear its flat surface. When she had it in both her hands, she propped it up and unwrapped it. Then she took a step back.
The painting was just as she remembered. Vivid shapes of green, interspersed with yellow and brown, gave the impression of sun filtering through the cool green leaves of a tree. It was abstract: not quite expressionistic, definitely not quite Cubist, painted in the long-ago time when Picasso ruled New York and Kandinsky ruled Paris. Jenna could remember it hanging on the wall of their living room when her father was stationed in Chicago. Along with their other meager possessions — after all, military tumbleweeds can’t afford to accumulate too much property — the painting had followed her and Lucien around the world: to Cape Town, to Cuba, to New York and Nevada. And it had followed them back here, to Virginia.
She’d never completely understood why Lucien was so attached to the picture. It was beautiful, to be sure, but they’d left many beautiful things behind on their travels. She hadn’t ever taken the time or had the courage to ask him about it. Of course, a lot of things fell into that category, and now that her father was gone, she was left with the feeling that she had lived with a man that she didn’t know. Her father had raised her, had loved her, but she didn’t know him — not the whole man, not the true man.
This painting had been hanging on Lucien’s bedroom wall when he died in 1948, and the last time Jenna had laid eyes on it was the day that she and Kitty had taken it down from that wall and wrapped it in white fabric. So what, Jenna wondered, had possessed her to come up here and look at it today?
She had the answer before she could even finish asking the question: Bud.
Of course, Bud. She felt stupid for not realizing it right away.
Her father and her husband. Two men she’d loved and never really known. And when she finally felt ready to ask them the difficult questions, they were gone. Beyond her reach.
And in her mind, Adam fell into the same category. He was still here, still alive, but he was beyond her reach. He was brave, kind, and loving, but the two of them could never seem to find their footing when they were together. And for all that she loved him, there were too many secrets, and too much time apart.
Yes, definitely beyond her reach.
So, she decided, she would let him have the painting. She’d take this beautiful thing that her father had loved, and give it to Adam. Maybe it would bring some happiness to him, and some peace to her.
God knew that they both deserved it.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
“
S
WEETHEART,
I
DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD
eat that whole thing by yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.” Jenna tried desperately not to laugh as she watched her small son try to balance two large scoops of chocolate ice cream. He held the unwieldy cone with both hands, shrugging off her attempts to help him, determined to manage his prize all by himself.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve got it,” his little bird’s voice assured her, eyes wide and glowing at the tower of joy in his grasp.
Jenna looked over at her mother-in-law. “Kitty, you know you’re spoiling him with all that.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Kitty held a wad of napkins at the ready, and reached over to swab ice cream off Christopher’s face when he came up for air. “It’s not like we do this every day. It’s a special occasion.”
The three of them were sitting at one of the small square oak tables in Gifford’s Ice Cream parlor. The air was cool and filled with the heady scent of sugar cones. Around them, tables buzzed and chirped with families and groups of teenagers enjoying a Saturday afternoon treat.
“What special occasion?” Jenna’s eyes were only for her son as his little pink tongue traveled repeatedly from the bottom of his ice cream to the top with determination and perseverance.
“I talked to Adam today.”
Kitty’s words seized hold of Jenna’s attention like a sailor cranking in a fluttering jib.
“He said his house is almost finished, and he’s planning a housewarming party for some time in October.”
Jenna felt her heart thunk hollowly, the way it did whenever Adam’s name came up. They hadn’t really spoken since the Fourth of July, which was almost a month behind them. And although they’d bumped into each other once or twice over the past few weeks, the contact was always awkward. She lifted her chin and spoke with determined cheer. “Well, that’s wonderful. October’s practically just around the corner. They must have been working like demons to get it done.”
“That’s just what I said to Adam! I told him that we should celebrate the news, and he told me to take Christopher out and buy him an ice cream.” Kitty laughed. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Jenna felt her mask of cheer slip a notch. “Sweet,” she murmured.
Christopher didn’t eat his whole cone, although it wasn’t for lack of trying. It was a team effort for her and Kitty to get him cleaned up, and as they walked slowly back to the car, Jenna tried to remember if she had any ginger ale in the house, in case her little boy developed a stomachache later in the day. She had just made up her mind that they should stop at the grocer’s and buy some when the sight of a familiar face stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Mr. Graves!” she exclaimed, before she could think better of it.
Alexander Graves looked up, startled. He had just come out of the alley next to the hardware store, with a can of paint in one hand and a small bag in the other. He glanced around swiftly, as if making sure no one could see them. His eyes took in Christopher and Kitty in the same quick sweep. He didn’t exactly seem happy to see her, Jenna thought, but he covered his discomfort with the same impeccable manners that he had used on their last meeting.
“Mrs. Appleton,” he said pleasantly. He shifted the bag he was carrying so he could hold it under his arm and removed his hat in a gesture that was both courteous and graceful. “It’s a pleasure to see you.” His eyes lighted on Kitty and he nodded formally. “How do you do, madam?”
Kitty turned to Jenna, waiting for an introduction. Jenna smiled hesitantly, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. “Kitty, this is Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Appleton.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Graves,” Kitty said. Her body fairly vibrated with curiosity.
“How do you do, Mrs. Appleton?” Alexander repeated.
There was a moment of silence, during which Jenna felt Alexander’s desire to escape as quickly as possible, and the longing of Kitty to know who this man was and how Jenna knew him. But she had to disregard their wishes and somehow make use of this precious moment. God only knew when she would see Alexander again, or whether he had taken anything she’d said seriously when last they’d met.
She pulled Christopher forward, reaching down to grasp his shoulders. She looked up, into Alexander’s eyes. “This is my son Christopher,” she said earnestly. “Christopher, this is Mr. Graves.”
“How do you do, Mr. Graves?” Christopher piped up, extending his hand automatically, as his grandfather had taught him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Alexander broke into a smile, as did everyone who came into contact with her little son. The smile was reserved, but full of genuine warmth. He set his hat back on his head, took Christopher’s hand, and shook it solemnly. “It’s nice to meet you too, Christopher.”
“Thank you, sir,” Christopher said sturdily.
Jenna smiled gratefully, feeling tears hovering behind her eyes. “And how’s your family, Mr. Graves? They’re all well?”
“As well as can be expected.” He spoke with care. “I don’t see as much of them as I’d like, of course. I’m very busy at the college these days.”
“Oh, are you a student?” Kitty asked.
“Yes, I’m studying law at Howard University.”
“How nice.” Kitty gave him a tight smile. “We need a bright new generation of young men to lead this country forward, Mr. Graves. I hope you’re vigorous in your studies.”
Another smile crossed his lips, this one cautious but also genuine. “I do my very best, ma’am. I’m taking some extra classes during the summer break.”
“Good for you, young man.”
Jenna’s eyes found Alexander’s and held them tightly.
Please,
her eyes begged
. You see what a nice family we are. Please, please, don’t dismiss us. Please help me.
He dropped his eyes from hers. She couldn’t tell if it was acquiescence or rejection. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I really must be on my way.”
“Of course.” Jenna took a step back, giving him room to pass. “It was lovely to see you again, Mr. Graves.”
“And you, Mrs. Appleton.” He turned to Kitty and nodded courteously. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. And you, Christopher.” Again, there was a glint of warmth in his face as he looked at the little boy. “I hope you have a very pleasant day.”
Jenna watched him walk down the sidewalk, back straight, looking neither right nor left. She felt a tugging on her sleeve and thought it was Christopher, but it turned out to be Kitty.
“So how do you know him?” Kitty asked. The question must have sounded nosy and salacious even to her own ears, because she hastened to add, “He seems like a very nice young man.”
Jenna groped for an explanation that was not too much of a lie. “I met him recently. He…helped me with something.” She started walking forward, toward the car, hoping to distract Kitty from the subject.
“Do you think we should stop and get some ginger ale, just in case someone had too much ice cream this afternoon?” she asked hastily.
“I have some back at the house. Why don’t you come for dinner tonight?”
Why, Jenna thought, so you can interrogate me in front of Bill? I think not.
“I’d love to, but I think it would be better if we stayed in tonight. Can we do it another day?”
“You know you’re welcome any time.” Kitty settled into the front seat as Jenna got Christopher settled in the back. “Was it car trouble?”
“What?” Jenna slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. She listened to its quiet rumbling, then shook her head. “No, the car seems fine.”
“Not now,” Kitty protested. “I meant when you met Mr. Graves, were you having car trouble?”
“Oh, I thought you were asking whether we were having car trouble now.” Jenna backed out and pulled into the street. She bit her lip and prayed for inspiration for another topic of conversation.
“So was it?” Kitty persisted.
“Was it what?”
“When you met Mr. Graves, were you having car trouble?”
“Oh! Um, yes, that was it.” But Jenna knew she had to offer more of an explanation. If her car had been acting up, Bill would have been the first person she called. “Of course, there was nothing really wrong with the car. I just — I thought I heard a noise so I pulled over to the side of the road. Mr. Graves came along and offered to help. He looked under the hood for me and listened to the engine, but everything was fine.”
Kitty eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not usually one to panic and pull over because of a little noise.”
“True, true! But Stella, um…Stella had broken down only the week before, and I must have been feeling a little paranoid.”
“Hmm.” This, at last, seemed to satisfy Kitty’s ravenous curiosity. At the very least, she appeared to have run out of questions. “He did seem like a nice young man,” she repeated meditatively.
* * *
But the problem, of course, was that nice young people weren’t always what they seemed to be. Kitty knew that as well as anyone — better, in fact. And it could be especially true when there were, shall we say, issues of color involved. Now, Kitty was not a racist. She would have spat in the face of anyone who dared to use that foul word in connection with her. But she was, however, a
realist
, and she knew that Jenna’s attitude toward people of the lower classes was disturbingly open-minded. Almost — almost
liberal
, if you want to know the truth. And it was a dangerous time to be that liberal.