Dreaming In Color Read online

  Please let one of these people want us, she prayed silently, running a hand over Penny's hair. We really need a miracle.

  At the first place the woman who came to the door took one look at her and Penny and said, "I'm sorry. The job's been filled." She took a step back and quietly closed the door.

  The woman at the second appointment invited them in and talked baby talk to Penny, who refused to say a word and sat with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Bobby was told what the job entailed: cooking and cleaning for a family of five; they were shown a small room next to the kitchen that would be theirs. Finally, the woman said, "I've got three other women to interview this afternoon. I'll have to let you know."

  Bobby gave her the motel number and took Penny back out to the car. She wasn't a bit optimistic about her chances. The woman had never once looked her in the face.

  It was too early for the practical nursing appointment but she decided to go along anyway in case she had trouble with the directions. She found the house quite easily and sat parked at the top of the driveway to wait until four o'clock. It was a lovely house. The lawn out back went right to the water's edge.

  "I've got to go to the bathroom," Penny announced.

  "You'll have to wait, hon."

  "I can't!” Penny insisted. "I've got to go now."

  "Oh, damn. All right. Come on." She and Penny got out of the car and went up the walk to the front door. Bobby felt depressed and frightened and oddly defiant. No one was going to give her a job looking the way she did. Who was she kidding? She and Pen would spend another night in the motel, then use the last of their money to go back home. And maybe for a week or two Joe would be real sweet and sorry. But in a month or six weeks, maybe two months, he'd break some more of her bones and then he'd kill her. All she could do was beg Aunt Helen to take Pen. Joe didn't care enough about Pen to want to kill her. He wouldn't care if Pen went to Aunt Helen's.

  The woman who came to the door stared at Bobby's face and said, "What on earth happened to you?"

  "I was in a car accident. Ma'am, I know I'm early for our appointment but Penny's got to go to the bathroom real bad."

  The woman looked down at Penny for a long moment, then sighed and said, "Come on in. The bathroom's at the end of the hall on the right. Can she go alone or do you have to take her?"

  "I'll take her, if that's okay."

  "Would you like some coffee?" the woman asked, frowning slightly as she looked again at Bobby's face.

  "That'd be great. Thanks a lot."

  "Fine. The living room's here," the woman pointed. "I'll just get the coffee."

  It was the prettiest house Bobby had ever seen. Even the bathroom was pretty with flowered wallpaper and yellow fixtures, bright yellow curtains on the window.

  "Who's that lady?" Penny asked, as Bobby helped her to get her jeans down.

  "Damn!" Bobby whispered. "I forgot to ask her name. I didn't even tell her mine. She'll think I'm some kind of moron."

  "Are we gonna visit?"

  "I hope maybe she'll give me a job and let us live here."

  "I'd love to live here," Penny said. "It's nice."

  "Keep your fingers crossed, hon. It's about time we had a bit of halfway decent luck."

  Two

  Upon opening the door, Eva's initial reaction was dismay. Over the telephone the woman had sounded strong and capable. It was an impression created by her husky voice and by the directness of her manner. In reality, the husky voice belonged to a tiny woman of no more than five feet, with battered features, dyed blond, badly permed hair, and a child in tow. Eva couldn't imagine this undersized woman tending to Aunt Alma. But she felt sorry for her, and the child had to go to the bathroom, so she invited them inside.

  The woman's bruised and swollen face brought Deborah to mind. Eva had blocked off memories of her old friend, of the island and the plantation high on the mountain. It rattled her to think of all that now—her mind racing over the past like a machine speed-viewing a film. She pushed it forcefully away, wanting to keep the past safely distant.

  She put coffee, cream, sugar, and two mugs on a tray and carried it to the living room, where the woman and her little girl were sitting side by side on the sofa, waiting.

  "I didn't tell you my name," Bobby said at once. "I'm Bobby, and this is Penny."

  The woman was, Eva thought, a nervous wreck. Her hands trembled as she accepted a mug of coffee, and her unblemished eye was wide and unblinking.

  "I'm Eva Rule. Help yourself to cream and sugar." To the child, she said, "Would you like some juice?"

  Penny nodded.

  "Say yes, please," Bobby prompted.

  "Yes, please," Penny parroted.

  "We've got apple, orange, and cranberry," Eva said. "What kind would you like?" "Apple." "Say please," Bobby told her, daunted by Eva Rule's good looks and good

  clothes, by her alternating impatience and kindness.

  "Once was enough," Eva said curtly, on her way to the kitchen. The sight of that battered face was painful; it made her angry. She shook her head as she poured the juice. She knew a beating when she saw one. And again an image of Deborah flashed on her mental screen, heightening her irritation. She did not want to think about any of that.

  "What sort of experience have you had?" she asked Bobby after giving the child the juice. "I nursed my grandpa until he died," Bobby said. "Fifteen months. I did

  everything. I'm not afraid of hard work or sick people."

  Eva sat back with her coffee, asking, "How long ago was that? And how old are you?"

  "Grandpa died eight years ago. I'm twenty-seven. And Penny's six. She's in the first grade."

  "I know how to read," Penny announced. "Have you got any books?"

  Taken off guard, Eva laughed and said, "Plenty."

  "C'n I see them?"

  "Hush, Pen." Bobby put a hand on the child's arm. "Just drink your juice."

  "When was it you had this 'accident'?" Eva asked.

  "Last night," Penny piped up. "Daddy was bad. We're runnin' away."

  Bobby lowered her eyes miserably. She should've known she'd never get away with that story of a car accident. Any fool could see she'd got herself beat up. She felt queasy with shame.

  Eva nodded. "How far have you run?"

  "From Jamestown, New York."

  "Why here?" Eva asked, curious.

  "I've always wanted to see the ocean," Bobby said, too nervous to drink the coffee. "It's real pretty around here, just like I imagined it."

  "What previous work experience have you had?" Eva asked.

  "I worked part-time at the Burger King a year and a half, since Pen started school. Who is it needs the nursing?" Bobby looked around as if expecting to see the invalid.

  "My Aunt Alma. She had a stroke last year. I came back from the city to be with her.

  "The city?"

  "New York."

  "Oh!" Bobby attempted to smile and her lip split again, a bead of blood welling. She at once opened her bag for a tissue saying, "Sorry," as she dabbed at her lip.

  "Why didn't you go to a shelter or something?" Eva asked, both sorry for her and somewhat annoyed by the woman's apologetic attitude.

  "It wouldn't've done any good," Bobby said. "We went once, and wound up having to go home. We're never going back to Jamestown," she said with determination. "No matter what happens, we're not going back." She placed a protective arm around the child's shoulders.

  "Where are the books?" Penny asked.

  Eva looked at the little girl. She was a delicate, very pretty child, with long brown hair caught up in a ponytail; a dainty nose, immense, thickly-lashed deep blue eyes.

  "Upstairs," Eva said. "Come on. I'll show you."

  "Please don't go to any trouble," Bobby protested.

  "It's no trouble." Eva held out a hand and the child at once scooted off the sofa and took hold. "Be right back," Eva told Bobby. "Make yourself comfortable."

  "You don't have to …"

  "Sh
e can look at the books while we talk," Eva said firmly. "Drink your coffee."

  Intimidated by the woman's authoritative manner, Bobby took a sip of the strong flavorful brew. She wanted the job so badly she felt like weeping. She wished she knew what to do to convince this woman she could look after her ailing elderly aunt. She couldn't help thinking she'd have more of a chance if she weren't so beat up.

  On the way up the stairs, Penny said, "I like it here. What's that?"

  "A chair lift so my aunt can get up and down the stairs. Why do you like it here?" Eva was very taken with the directness of the child's manner. Whatever else she might be, Bobby was clearly a good mother. Penny's natural inquisitiveness had obviously been encouraged.

  "It's nice. And I like the colors. It's really big," Penny said, looking down the hallway. "What's down there?"

  "Bedrooms. We're going in here," Eva said, taking the girl into the small sitting room at the front of the house. "All these are children's books," she told Penny, indicating the bottom three shelves of the bookcase.

  "Whose room is this?"

  "It's a sitting room," Eva explained.

  "Do you have a little girl? Where is she?"

  "My little girl's grown up and away at school," Eva said. "Now I'm going downstairs to talk to your mother. Okay?"

  "Okay.”

  Penny was down on her knees, already pulling a book from the shelf as Eva went to the door.

  Bobby looked over anxiously as Eva came back into the room, and tried again to smile. "It's real nice of you to let her look at your books. She's a good girl and she'll be real careful with them."

  "How do you feel about old people?" Eva asked, wishing Bobby would stop apologizing for every last thing. It was an effort to be ingratiating that only served to raise Eva's hackles. She preferred people who possessed a healthy degree of self-confidence. She was, in her own way, as frequently intolerant as her aunt and had no doubt she'd acquired her attitudes as a result of growing up under Alma's guidance. It was inevitable, she'd long thought, that Alma's convictions would have infiltrated her own subconscious. Until her stroke, Alma had been a powerful woman. And while she may have lost some of her physical capabilities, fortunately her mind remained intact.

  "I feel okay about them. Is your aunt real old?"

  "She's sixty-seven."

  "That's not so old. My grandpa was seventy-four."

  "No," Eva agreed, "it's not. You know, I really don't think you'd be up to the job.

  "Please give me a chance," Bobby rushed in. "I'm a real hard worker and I don't mind cleaning up messes, or tending to sick folks. I've got a strong stomach."

  "I'm sure you do," Eva said, bothered by Bobby's wild, permed hair. She wondered how anyone could find it attractive. Then she chided herself for being so uncharitable, so judgmental. This young woman was poor. Her clothes were cheap, her leather shoulder bag was splitting at the seams. But the child was well dressed and clean. "The final decision will have to be Aunt Alma's," she said. "We've had a number of nurses this past year. My aunt is not easy."

  "I'm used to that," Bobby said. "It takes a lot to rile me. Please, Mrs. Rule, at least let me meet your aunt. If she doesn't take to me, that's that. But I've got to work, and we need to find someplace to live. I can't go back." She was begging, and hated herself for it. But what choice did she have? If she went back, Joe would kill her, maybe kill Penny too. She couldn't let that happen. Begging wouldn't kill her.

  Eva thought Aunt Alma would probably eat this little creature alive, then spit out the bones. But you never knew. Alma was the essence of unpredictability. "Sit here a minute while I go have a word with my aunt."

  "Sure," Bobby said. "That'll be fine."

  Eva went back upstairs. Glancing into the sitting room, she saw the child sprawled on her stomach on the floor, slowly turning the pages of a large picture book. Satisfied, Eva continued on to the master suite at the far end of the hall, knocked, and opened the door.

  Alma was in her wheelchair by the window, staring out at the Sound. Eva went to stand beside her, placing a hand on her aunt's jutting shoulder. Alma had lost at least twenty-five pounds since the stroke. Her former roundness was gone, revealing her angular bone structure. "Water's rough today," she observed, looking out. "I've got someone downstairs about the job."

  "Another bossy bitch," Alma growled, her s's slurred.

  "Just the opposite," Eva said, looking at her aunt's distorted features, the left side permanently downturned from the stroke. "You'll probably scare the hell out of this one." She smiled at her aunt.

  "That's no good to me, either," Alma said.

  "We've got to have someone," Eva said reasonably. "I can't manage alone and get my work done. We've discussed this until we're blue in the face. And we're running out of applicants. It's been almost two weeks since Freda quit. Much as I love you, I'm falling behind schedule."

  "I know." Alma raised her right hand, and Eva grasped it. "I know," she repeated, giving Eva's hand a squeeze, then releasing it. "All right. Bring her on. Let's get it over with."

  "She reminds me of Deborah," Eva said, and at once wished she hadn't.

  "She's English?"

  "No, no. She's nothing like her, really. Forget I said that. I'll go get her. You can be the one to say no. I don't have the heart to do it."

  "Oh, Lord." Alma fixed her shrewd eyes on her niece's face. "What's this one, a charity case?"

  "In a way. You'll see for yourself."

  Eva went halfway down the stairs and summoned Bobby. The young woman got up, clutching her shoulder bag to her side, and hurried to the stairs. Eva led the way along the hall, able almost to feel Bobby's apprehension. "In here," she said, standing to one side to allow the young woman to enter the room. "Aunt Alma," she said, "this is Bobby."

  "Good grief!" Alma muttered, eyes widening at the sight of Bobby's face. "Well, come in," she said after a moment. "You'd better sit down."

  Bobby went to sit on the edge of the armchair by the window.

  Eva perched on the side of the bed, interested to see what would happen.

  "How'd you get in that condition?" Alma asked bluntly, looking Bobby over from head to toe.

  "Her husband," Eva said, thinking to spare the woman further embarrassment. Her aunt was notoriously outspoken, always had been.

  "A woman who gets herself beaten's a damned stupid woman," Alma declared. "I can't have someone around here in worse shape than I'm in."

  "I've left him," Bobby said quietly. "And my face'll be better in a couple of days. Otherwise, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me."

  "What're you good for?" Alma asked. "You don't look up to any heavy lifting."

  "I can cook and I can clean …"

  "We don't need you for that," Alma cut in. "We've got a cleaning woman who comes twice a week. And Eva likes to do the cooking. She

  finds it therapeutic, for some reason. I always hated cooking."

  "I looked after my grandpa until he died."

  "What'd he die of?" Alma demanded to know.

  "Stomach cancer," Bobby said. "I cleaned him and fed him and gave him his medicine right till the day he died. There wasn't anybody to help me, either, except for the doctor who came once a week. I'm real strong. I can help you do whatever needs doing."

  Alma was about to fire off a remark having to do with her doubts about that when Penny appeared in the doorway, a book in her hand. With a smile, she said, "Hi," and went directly over to Alma. "How come your face goes up and down?"

  "Penny!" Mortified, Bobby moved to take hold of the child, but Alma put up a hand to stop her.

  "Who're you?" Alma asked the girl.

  "My name's Penny Salton and I'm six years old. Are you a granny? Is this my granny?" she asked her mother. "I don't have a granny," she told Alma. "Buddy Atkins has two and so does Amy, but I don't have a single one."

  "Penny, hush," Bobby said.

  "Let her alone!" Alma said. "What's that you've got there?" she asked Penny.r />
  "It's that lady's book." She pointed at Eva, then held the book out for Alma to see. "It's called Where the Sidewalk Ends. It's a good story. You want me to read it to you?"

  "You can read?"

  "Uh-hunh. Want to hear?"

  Alma croaked out a laugh. "Come here," she beckoned the child closer. "Let's have a look at you."

  Penny held onto the book while Alma studied her face, then asked, "Want me to read it now?"

  "Maybe later. Right now I'm talking to your mother. Can you stand here and keep very quiet?"

  Penny closed her mouth tightly and nodded firmly.

  To Bobby, Alma said, "I raised Eva from the time she was this one's age. I like children. You've got a bright girl here."

  "Yes, ma'am," Bobby said politely.

  "Frankly, you don't look strong enough to help me in and out of this chair, or my bed, or the tub. I also happen to think that a woman who gets herself beaten more than once is a woman with not a lot of self-respect." Refusing to be insulted by what, after all, was only the truth, Bobby said,

  "Nobody's going to touch me or Penny again, no matter what. If I have to, I'll carry you over my shoulder. You're not all that big. My grandpa was twice the size of you. Give me a chance," she pleaded. "Say, two weeks' trial. If it doesn't work out, then we'll go."

  Alma studied her for several moments, then turned to Penny. "You want to stay here?" she asked the girl.

  "Uh-hunh. You got lots of nice books. You got a TV?"

  "You watch a lot of TV?"

  "Not a whole lot," Penny said. "My mom doesn't let me."

  "Your mom's right," Alma said. "Reading's better for you."

  "I like reading. I can read all kinds of things."