Little Blackbird (14 page)

Kate’s daddy walked up behind Mr. Perkins. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Are you kids okay?”

“Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Muir,” Martha said with a smile that caused nausea to coil in Kate’s stomach. “We’re great, aren’t we, Kate?”

Kate couldn’t look at Martha. She could barely
breathe
. The cloying scent of Martha’s perfume filled Kate’s lungs on every panicked inhale, and Kate felt herself choking. Any minute Kate knew Martha was likely to say exactly how she’d found her and Geoffrey kissing, hiding in the back of the hardware store like sinners.

Kate walked down the aisle and knelt beside Geoffrey. She helped him gather the remaining wrenches. They trembled in in hand, clacking together like dice. Mr. Perkins and Geoffrey re-hung them on the shelving unit. Kate heard Martha’s shoes on the tiles, clicking toward them. Kate’s back stiffened.

“Kate,” Martha said, “I’d love it if you could come over today.”

Kate stared open-mouthed at Martha.
Is she serious?
She closed her mouth and cleared her throat. “Oh, well, I’m helping my daddy today. He has some…some stuff around the house.”

“That’s okay,” her daddy said. He smiled at Martha. “That’s nice of you to ask. Would you like me to drop her off at your house?”

“That’s okay, Mr. Muir. I drove Mama’s car to town to get a new color of paint for the dining room. She’s in a decorating mood.” Martha waved her hands through the air, emphasizing the word
mood
. “Kate can go home with me from here. If that’s okay, Kate?”

Martha’s pink lips split into a slow smile, but her eyes remained unchanged as she stared at Kate. Kate glanced at Geoffrey, who shrugged.

“I guess?”

Martha linked her arm through Kate’s, startling Kate with the contact. Martha smiled so brightly that Kate blinked in the glare.

“Wonderful,” Martha said. “I’ll drive Kate home later. Mr. Perkins, could I have a gallon of periwinkle in the best brand of paint you sell? Something good for dining rooms with lots of light. And crystal. Mama, has a lot of crystal, you know. Geoffrey, good to see you again.”

Martha pulled Kate away from the men, and Kate stumbled along beside her. She glanced over her shoulder at Geoffrey, and he gave her a thumbs up. If he didn’t see anything wrong with Martha taking her home for an afternoon, then why did Kate feel as though she’d eaten a bag of smoldering coals?

“W
E’LL BE IN my room,” Martha yelled down toward the foyer in response to her mama’s question. Then Martha turned on her heel and marched up the hallway.

Kate glanced over the railing at Martha’s mama standing beneath the foyer’s chandelier made of drop crystals and polished brass that reflected the afternoon sunlight. Her mama looked like a grown-up version of Martha, except with wider hips, more downturned lips, and eyes that were shadowed and heavier. She reminded Kate of a Madame Alexander Wendy doll that had been left in the summer sun for too many seasons, still beautiful but faded, not ready to accept that time had passed.

The sound of Kate’s footsteps was lost on the carpeted runner spanning the length of the long, wide hallway. Doorways adorned with fluted molding and decorative corner pieces dotted both sides of the corridor, and in between openings, paintings with ornate, gilded frames hung. Martha disappeared through a doorway halfway down the hallway, and Kate lingered in the doorway before entering.

Martha’s bedroom was an exhibition of pink and lace and muted light. Pale, baby-girl pink and crisp white striped the wall behind a canopied bed draped with sheer, white fabric tied with fuchsia ribbons to the bedposts. Ornamental, white frames filled with mirrors of varying sizes decorated the striped wall. An antique, white armoire with curving lines and a mirrored front towered against another wall and anchored a rug pattered with pale pink roses and green vines.

A lacy duvet covered her bed, and feather pillows fat like oversize marshmallows leaned against the headboard. A dressing table with an oval mirror was littered with makeup. Pearl necklaces and gold chains with jeweled charms hung inside an open jewelry box, and a tufted pink stool was tucked beneath the table.

Martha opened a door across the room and walked inside. “Let’s do something fun. Charlotte and Betsy will be here soon. I have a great idea.” When she returned, she held an azure dress. She waved it beside her, and it rippled like a flag. “Makeovers!” Her pink lips turned down. “Quit lingering in the doorway and try this on.”

Martha thrust the dress into Kate’s hands, and Kate stared at it as though she’d never seen a dress before. The cotton fabric felt as light and as soft as a handful of rose petals. She held the dress out in front of her and studied the hourglass shape of it. Martha stepped out of her closet again holding a broad white belt with a round buckle.

“This will be perfect,” Martha said. “Go
on
, try it on already.”

Martha shoved Kate toward an adjoining room that turned out to be a private bathroom.

“You have your own bathroom attached to your bedroom?” Kate gaped at the porcelain clawfoot tub with cast iron taloned feet and at the miniature chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.

“Of course,” Martha said as she walked out and closed Kate inside the bathroom. “Now, change.” Her voice carried through the closed door.

This is what girls do? Try on each other’s clothes?
Kate hesitated, but a feeling of delight shivered through her as she thought of putting on the dress. Kate kicked off her shoes and changed out of her casual clothing. She shimmied the dress over her head. It was a half size too large for her, but she caught her reflection in the mirror and gawked.

The dress was the exact color of the lapis lazuli necklace her daddy had given her mama last year on her birthday. Kate smiled and twirled barefoot on the black and white bathroom tiles. She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom.

“Well, look at you,” Martha said, almost smiling. She wrapped the white belt around Kate’s waist and pulled it tight, slipping the prong through the farthest hole. She looped the extra length of strap through the buckle and stepped away from Kate. “You’re tiny.” Martha inhaled and pressed her hands against her own stomach. “Look at yourself.” She pointed toward the armoire.

Kate stepped in front of the tall mirror. For the first time in her life,
she
looked like a baby doll. In a crowd of girls, she could slip right in and no one would notice her. She’d be invisible, one of them, a replica.

“Go on, admit you like it,” Martha said. “The dress looks better on you. That’s a good color.”

“Thanks,” Kate mumbled.

Martha grabbed the tufted stool beneath the dressing table. She picked up a silver hairbrush and smacked the stool’s cushion. “Sit.”

Kate obeyed. Martha smoothed Kate’s hair into a low ponytail and held it at the base of her neck. Then she pulled the brush through the long strands.

“Your hair is really long. Have you ever thought of cutting it?” Martha asked.

Kate’s eyes widened in the mirror. She shook her head, and a few dark, strands slipped through Martha’s fingers and dropped to Kate’s shoulders. Kate caught movement as someone stepped through the doorway into the bedroom.

“Let’s ask Charlotte. Oh, and Betsy’s here too. Hey girls. What do you think of cutting Kate’s hair?”

Kate watched as both Charlotte’s and Betsy’s reflections shared the mirror with her.

Charlotte smiled. “I love the dress, Kate. That is definitely your color.”

Martha fisted the brush at her cocked hip. “That’s why I chose it. I haven’t worn it in ages, but I thought it would be a good fit for her.”

Charlotte stepped closer to the stool. “Do you
want
to cut your hair?”

Kate shifted on the seat and grabbed a section of her hair. She stared at the darkness spilling over her palm like a stream of melted chocolate. “I’ve–I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, mama cuts it sometimes so it’s not too long. But…is it? Is it too long?” She stared up at Charlotte’s reflection.

Martha’s reflection turned to Charlotte. “Not unless you want a specific style, right? It’s not going to hold curl. Betsy?”

Betsy moved in closer. She chewed her bottom lip and tugged at one of her own curls. “I think if you curled it in waves, you’d be the spitting image of Ava Gardner.”

Charlotte’s smiled widened. “You’re right.”

Kate chuckled, unable to meet her own dark-eyed gaze in the mirror. “The actress?”

“Do you
know
another one?” Charlotte teased.

“But she’s…beautiful,” Kate muttered, staring at her clasped hands.

Charlotte eased Kate’s hair from her shoulders and folded it in half, pressing it against the back of her head and causing the hair to loop and stop at her shoulders. “And you’re not? I think Betsy is right. With a few waves, you could pass for Ava.”

Martha’s lips pursed. “Hmmm, maybe a version of her. I
guess
I can see it. People say I look like Grace Kelly all the time.”

Betsy’s brow wrinkled. “What people?”

Martha ignored Betsy’s question. “So, what do you think, Kate?” Martha leaned toward her, resting her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “Cut it?”

“I cut my sister’s hair all the time. Mama taught me how,” Charlotte said. “I can do it, if you want.”

Charlotte smiled and nodded. Betsy nodded her encouragement too. Kate exhaled and wondered what Geoffrey would think. A tiny smile tugged her lips up at the corners, and she nodded. Martha slapped a pair of scissors into Charlotte’s open palm.

C
HARLOTTE OPENED MARTHA’S bathroom door and scurried out. “Don’t come out yet.” Kate heard her talking to Martha and Betsy in the bedroom. “Now, don’t you two turn around until I tell you. Okay, Kate, come on out.”

Kate inhaled slowly. She rocked in place on restless legs. A fast pulse throbbed in her chest. She glanced at herself one last time in the bathroom mirror. Her hair had been cut at least five inches, and now it framed her face in waves and fell just past her shoulders. Dark berry stained her lips, and Charlotte had blended shimmering shades of tan and brown to her upper eyelids and brow bone. Thin, black lines traced the edges of where her lashes met her eyelids, and black mascara elongated her thick lashes. A dusting of rich rouge highlighted her cheekbones.

When Kate stepped into the bedroom, Charlotte clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes. “Okay, y’all turn around.”

Betsy gasped and Martha’s pink lips parted as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Kate squirmed beneath their stares.

Charlotte rushed over and draped a few curls over Kate’s shoulders. “Doesn’t she look stunning? You were right, Betsy. Ava Gardner, step aside.”

Betsy walked over. “Gosh, Kate, you look, well, you look so
exotic
.”

Kate wrung her hands together in front of her. “I don’t look like me.”

Charlotte touched Kate’s upper arm. “Of course you do. Don’t be silly. This is still you. Just a different version.”

“The fancy version,” Betsy said with a wide smile that pushed her plump cheeks up toward her eyes.

Martha cocked her hip to the side and pressed her pink lips together. Then she grinned without showing her teeth. “I wonder what Geoffrey will think.”

Betsy and Charlotte frowned and glanced at Martha.

“Why does that matter?” Charlotte asked.

Martha’s eyebrows rose and her smile widened, reminding Kate of an alligator. “Ask Kate.”

Betsy’s brow wrinkled deeper. “I don’t understand.”

Kate tried to swallow, but she felt as though she’d eaten a mouthful of dried lavender without water.

“Go
on
, Kate. Tell them.”

Charlotte looked from Kate to Martha. “Tell us what? What is going on?”

“Kate and Geoffrey are together,” Martha sighed dramatically.

Betsy made a choking noise in her throat, and Charlotte turned to face Kate.

“Geoffrey Hamilton?” Charlotte asked.

A shiver swirled up Kate’s spine. “Yes, but we’re not–I mean, it’s not as though–we’re not exactly together.”

Martha laughed, but it sounded tight and tinged with malevolence. “But you were
kissing
in the hardware store.”