Elena Undone (13 page)

“She just seems a little more, I don’t know…overwrought with even more information than she usually has…”

“You know how she gets.” Nash barely looked up as he continued thumb-thumping on his game. “When she’s depressed, she digs even deeper—and, man, I gotta tell ya, some of the stuff she comes up with—”

Elena gently took Nash’s game from him. “Well, God bless her…I hope she knows how loved she is here.”

“Of course she does.” Nash looked skeptically at his mother, as he scrunched up his knees to give her more room on the bed. “Okay…so what’s this really about?”

“Well…I heard you skipped Bible study yesterday—”

“Yeah, Mom, I sure did,” Nash responded proudly and then added ruefully, “those people are all a bunch of wingnuts over there. I don’t care what they’re crusading against. And Dad really doesn’t either...he’s just playing to his fawning flock—”

“Your dad—”

“Got the role of a lifetime, Mom. Playing pastor was the only gig he could actually book. Come on, Mom. You know it. We both know it, so don’t even…”

Elena shook her head, pursed her lips. She did not want either of them to speak badly about Nash’s father, but of course she knew it. It was simply a matter of loyalty that kept her silent and the fact that while Nash might understand on some level how his dad had sold out she also knew it was a much more cigh much momplex compromise than Nash was capable of understanding.

Unfortunately, Nash could not understand how the pressure to keep both herself and Nash well taken care of worked into that compromise. Even when she tried to explain to him that the nature of his father’s work—no matter how Nash might feel about it—was good works that helped many different people, Nash still would reply, skeptically, “Yeah whatever. You can call it whatever you want, or think that because the church does good work, it’s all okay. But on some level, Mom, he’s lying. In my book, that’s wrong.”

So it was black and white for Nash, and she really couldn’t expect him to understand all the vagaries of gray that might exist in Barry’s situation. Barry really did much of this work with an open heart and for that she respected him. She just wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep Nash pacified, since he had become so keenly aware that Barry’s world, while filled with good deeds, was composed of smoke and mirrors.

“Shhhh.” Elena shut down this conversation as Tori entered the room. Although Tori shared the general sentiment that the church was full of contradictions, she was also fiercely loyal to Poppa Bear as she had fondly nicknamed him from the very beginning. He was the only father Tori had, in many ways, and whatever concessions he may have made in life did not keep Tori from absolutely adoring him.

Tori popped herself up on the bed. “Oh yippee, slumber party.”

She made herself comfortable, drew one of Nash’s blankets over her knees, then glanced back and forth between the two. “Oops…did I just crash a private party here?”

Nash scooped her up in a bear hug. “Never crashing, babe. You’re always welcome. Mom and I were finished anyway, weren’t we.” Nash informed his mother more than asked her.

Elena sighed, picked up one of Nash’s shirts and began to fold it. Nash cocked his head one way, then another, studying his mom with a thoroughness that began to make her feel uncomfortable.

“Nash!” she finally snapped.

“Mom...don’t take this the wrong way or anything...but you know you’re still really pretty.”

“Well, thanks. I think.” Elena shook her head, self-conscious. “What brought that on?”

“Uhmm…so, well, Tori was telling me women hit their—you know...” But as Elena glanced at her son in surprise he clammed up and then blurted, “Peak?...well when they...well, you know what I mean…”

Elena was blushing, but turned her body so that he could not really see her. “No. I’m not sure I do.” Elena collected herself and turned back to Nash. “Look son, I know our dear Tori here is a font of never-ending information—”

“Tell her, Tori,” Nash insisted.

“Yes, ‘ta c“Yes,ell her Tori.’” Elena turned to Tori with a mock menacing look.

“Pleading the Fifth?”

“Mom, don’t freak or anything. It’s just we were wondering what your life would be like if you had married a real actor. You know. Someone like—like well, Daniel Craig or Brad Pitt—or even like a Gerard Butler instead of...well, Dad.”

Elena, struggling not to laugh, had no intention of continuing this line of discussion, and simply replied, “Well, sweetie, if I hadn’t married your dad I wouldn’t have you.”

Barry butted his head in the door.

They all sat in guilty silence. Nash looked like he’d swallowed the canary.

“What’s up in here?” Barry teased. “Planning a bank heist?”

Nobody spoke. Barry shook his head. “Okay, well you have a phone call, El…and you two should be getting to bed.”

As he handed her the phone he exchanged places with his wife. “Hey guys…how ’bout a quick bowl of ice cream…then let’s all hit the sack.”

Elena watched as Tori hugged Poppa Bear, snuggling him close, as if to make up for their transgression. She walked out of Nash’s bedroom and into the living room, lifted the phone.

“It’s Peyton…” Peyton’s voice was very congested. “Peyton Lombard.”

“Oh, Peyton.” Elena smiled and then said with genuine concern, “You sound terrible. Oh my gosh, how are you feeling?”

“Better, actually.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

Long pause.

“So, you know that project I was talking about?” Peyton asked.

“Yes…yes, the one you spoke about at Tyler’s, right?”

“I’m getting ready to start fleshing it out. I was wondering, you know, if you’re interested...if I could see some samples of your work—see if this would be a fit.”

“Oh, sure. Yes.” Elena found herself feeling very nervous, put a hand to her hair to smooth it, as if anyone could see her. How could she show such old work? Would this professional writer think she was a joke? I mean, did she really want to humiliate herself? But before she could think further about the implications she heard herself saying, “If you’d like I could bring by my portfolio. I could even do it tomorrow.” And then to try and cover up, “We could meet for lunch...”

Another long pause and Elena felt her heart thudefor heartding. “That is, if you feel well enough. Or coffee. Just coffee is fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peyton responded. “I know just the place.”

*

The next morning Peyton sat, dressed in her black jeans, a black muscle shirt and covering her for warmth a teal Façonnable  that was as soft as it was cozy. She sat at one of three concrete picnic tables not far from a gorgeous mini-waterfall at her favorite park. She liked the tables here because while they were all near the cascading water, they were far enough apart for privacy and set amidst a huge clearing of yawning gentle slopes of green, terraced to contour the edges of a brook that ran through the entire length of the park and emptied into a small lake at the bottom.

Even with the ducks clamoring endlessly she was deeply engrossed answering e-mails on her BlackBerry as she waited and was unaware, at first, that Elena had shown up, until she heard a bag plopped on the table.

“Oh hi,” she said.

“Hey there. Sorry I’m a little late. I…” But she let it go as she rummaged through the bags, pulled out a gourmet bottle of lemonade, several containers filled with salads, desserts, even a couple of flowers.

Again, Peyton was aware that Elena was a beautiful woman, but here, in the daylight, she could see even more clearly her flawless olive skin, those deeply piercing brown eyes, and when she turned to her to smile uncertainly, Peyton realized she was staring, cleared her throat. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Elena answered. Their eyes met. “I… You know when you’re sick you just want things to make you feel better. Besides...I sort of feel like no one’s been taking care of you.”

Elena felt flustered as she pulled items together. Seeing Peyton in this new setting threw her for some reason. A glow radiated about Peyton she hadn’t noticed before, and she found herself drawn to this woman in a strange but fascinating manner. Peyton had such charm and warmth about her. Elena shrugged, continued her task. “Maybe it’s the mom in me?”

Peyton blushed. “I look that bad, huh?”

“No…no, I mean, with everything you’ve been through—your mother, all the stuff your ex put you through—who sounds like a real piece of work—no offense. It’s like, what about you? Who is taking care of Peyton?”

“Believe me I’m not a saint…and I’m not a martyr either. Just not a great time in my life.”

“This project and I are going to change all that,” Elena announced as if it were a foregone conclusion that Peyton would naturally pick her as the photographer, then realizing how presumptuous that sounded, shifted. “Can I pour you some lemonade?”

“Yeah, lemonade sounds great.”

“How are you feeling, anyway?”

“I’m fine. Really.” Peyton watched Elena as she fussed about and then eyed the brown leather portfolio, pulled it toward her. “May I?”

Elena stopped, then nodded. “Just remember—it’s been years since I’ve been
really
working.” She sat down next to her, touching the portfolio almost as if she wanted to take it back, then settling in, she sighed. “Well, I guess…at least you can see my style.”

Peyton opened the portfolio, and slowly began to look through the work, taking her time to appreciate the framing, lighting and what she could see was a very elegant eye in Elena’s photos.

“You know these are really very good.” Peyton’s voice was laced with genuine appreciation. “I’m impressed.”

Elena turned to her, smiled modestly, suddenly felt very shy. “Well, you start out thinking you’ll be Annie Liebowitz...and then...”

Peyton leaned over to examine the photos more closely. Elena moved next to her, pointed at a shot, their bodies pressed together as Peyton studied a child’s photo, then turned to Elena.

“She’s so beautiful... What a great setup.”

“Children are my favorite subjects. They’re still so innocent, no pretense... They show everything they’re feeling.”

Peyton was about to respond, but when she turned the page she saw what appeared to be a naked woman in a sensually evocative silhouette.

“Wow.” Peyton shook her head. “I love this one...”

“Oh.” Elena cleared her throat, then laughed off-handedly. “That’s me actually...”

Peyton turned to look at her, surprised. It seemed so out of character.

“I shot that after Nash was born. I had an idea, lit it...and thought I might as well.”

Peyton suddenly became aware of the fact that they were way too close, cleared her throat. “It’s...great. They’re all...really good.”

But when she turned Elena was looking right at her with those eyes—those unwavering eyes.

Peyton got up and returned to the other side of the picnic table and then, covering, asked, “Why didn’t you keep it up?”

“Oh…you know, the usual things. My family. Responsibilities...life.”

Their eyes met. Again. And Peyton became uncomfortably aware tkedably awhat Elena was one of the few people she had ever encountered who had absolutely no problem holding a gaze.

“You know this is one of my favorite parks,” Elena announced to break the silence.

“Really? It’s one of mine too. Isn’t it a little far from where you live?”

“I make the drive because it’s so beautiful.” Elena’s smile was revealing, vulnerable. “My sanctuary.”

“Look.” Peyton cleared her throat, and attempted a businesslike tone, “I, uh, think you’d be great for this. If you’re interested.”

“Yes, Peyton. I’m definitely interested.” Elena studied Peyton carefully a moment. “So, uhmm, what’s—where did this idea come from?”

“Oh, I’ve had this project on the back burner for—well, forever. My agent kept telling me no one was interested and that I could do it on my own time. But then, while my mother was sick, we really ended up connecting.”

Elena smiled sympathetically.

“She and I had had a really rocky relationship—you know, she’s very conservative, wasn’t excited about my lifestyle choices…very Emily Gilmore. But underneath it all, I realized she was so much more interesting than I ever gave her credit for.”

Elena found herself riveted by Peyton’s story, her history. “Go on.”

“It’s just that women are so complex, so multidimensional...I want to dig below, show all our colors...everything that is indelibly female and makes women so…so delicious.”

Elena had never heard women spoken about like this before and she wasn’t sure if she felt awkward, uncomfortable or simply unsophisticated. “Oh…okay.”

“Maybe I’m thinking too broadly. Just you know...the extraordinary essence that makes up woman in all her glory from A to Z.”

“It’s a wonderful project, Peyton.”

Peyton looked at Elena. Smiled. And then Elena’s phone rang. She wanted to ignore it but duty called.

“I’m sorry—I’ve really got to run. Pick up Nash from soccer practice.”