Paint Me True (10 page)

How had I blown it this bad? Why hadn’t I married one of those guys who’d fallen all over himself to get me on a date? I’d been proposed to five times –
five
times, and each time held out for better. None of them were quite perfect enough, and now all of them were settled with kids, while I lived off my stepmother’s charity.

“Eliza?” His hand was on my shoulder now.

I looked up at him. He wanted to kiss me, I could tell, and I hadn’t been kissed in years. Literally years.

Our gazes locked for a long moment, then I let mine drop to his mouth.

He didn’t budge.

I shifted my weight, drawing a fraction of an inch closer to him.

Nothing. His hand stayed on my shoulder and his expression was all caring concern.

I chewed my lip, leaned in a little closer, employed every pathetic trick I knew, and he stayed put. But I could tell he wanted to kiss me. He was just being stoic about it.

So I grasped his shirt and pulled him in. For a moment, I felt despair as his hand on my shoulder pushed me away. Here I was, throwing myself at Len Hodge, and being rejected. Talk about desperation.

He let go of my shoulder, put his arm around my waist, and kissed me. His other hand took mine and he held it, palm to palm. I’d had a boyfriend who’d done that, once. A sweet guy whom I’d dated when I was nineteen. He’d left on his mission and I’d moved on within months.

The familiar gesture made me feel safe. Len’s mouth was gentle and warm and his kisses were all closed mouthed and proper. One led to another, and each was a layer of balm on my lonely heart. He was the one to pull back, but even then he didn’t push me away, but instead let go of my hand and held me. “You okay?” he whispered.

“No. Not really...” A tear slid down my cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb.

More tears came. I hadn’t been this stupid on a first date since I was sixteen and Rob Bilkins had pledged he’d marry me – in five years, after he got back from his mission. I’d bawled my eyes out in front of everyone. It was a group date, of course, three other couples. My dad didn’t allow me to go on solo dates before I was eighteen, and given he was also my Bishop and I was proud of being righteous, I didn’t push the boundaries there.

Len pulled a tissue out of an old faded box set in the console and handed it to me.

“Thanks.”

“You want me to walk you to your door?”

“Sure.”

We got out of his car. The night air was frigid. I pulled my coat tight around myself and he walked me with his arm around my shoulders. Before I went in, he kissed my forehead and said, “Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay. Night.”

As soon as I stepped in the door, I wanted to flee to my room, curl up in fetal position, and never emerge again. I’d led him on, even though I hadn’t wanted a date with him, let alone a relationship. At the time, though, it felt like he was the only person who cared about me. I hadn’t just ignored Rule One, as Hattie called it. I’d done the opposite. I’d flung myself at a guy who was just being polite.

A tear dropping from my cheek brought me back to myself in Nora’s house. I looked at the assortment of sketches I’d done, and quite a few of them looked good. I chose one that was just a portrait of Paul staring out at the viewer. It was simple, but it had the most impact. I’d paint that one.

T
hat Sunday I went to church in the Oxford ward, which had its own building on Abingdon Road. It was all gray brick, with tall, two story windows that looked out onto the street like solemn, unblinking eyes.

A soft breeze pressed the hem of my dress to the backs of my calves and lifted my flounced short sleeves. I recognized some of the people filing in, but none were more than acquaintances. Several waved. When I got inside, I saw the chapel was about half full. A teenager with a shock of blond hair who moved with a dragging saunter came on over and gave me a program. “You new?” he asked.

“I’m visiting.”

“Want a ward directory?” He tugged one loose from the bottom of the stack of programs.

“Yes, that’d be great.”

He passed it over and sauntered on towards the door.

I resumed looking around. The Bishop was new. I didn’t see the tall, imposing man who’d presided over the meeting last time. The man who sat on the stand now was shorter with gray hair and a hooked nose that was at odds with his kindly smile.

“Right,” said a voice at my elbow. “Eliza is it?”

I looked and saw a whippet thin woman that I vaguely remembered from the last time I’d been to the ward. She was in a one piece red dress and had a pair of gloves folded in one hand, draped over a red clutch purse. “Oh, hi,” I said to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your-”

“How long you here for this time?”

“We’ll see. I’m looking after my aunt.”

“What did the doctors say about her?”

“I’m... sorry?” One thing I never got about the English, they could look so prim and proper and yet be rude, nosy, and impolite, and they did it with such abandon, it was as if they didn’t see the irony.

The woman clucked her tongue. “Never mind. She doesn’t want me and my meddling. I know her answer. Never mind that we have an ambulance shrieking its way through the neighborhood at eleven o’clock at night. No one’s business but her own, in her mind.”

“Have we met?”

“Name’s Louisa. I’m her sister-in-law.”

“Oh.” I looked at her again. She didn’t have a dark trench coat, this time. Her hair was medium brown, straight as a pin, and a little bit stringy, probably because she kept stroking it back from her face. Her makeup was austere, but her eyes bright with curiosity. She glared at me as if I’d been the one to come up and ask the demanding questions. Her gaze slid over me, the judgment clear in the furrows of her brow.

“You’ve heard of me, I take it?” she said.

“Not really. Just that you were Paul’s sister.”

“Still am, right? Death doesn’t dissolve a family bond.”

“I didn’t know you were Mormon.”

She narrowed her eyes as if I’d said something rude and she was debating whether or not to call me on it, though I didn’t understand how my comment could cause offense.

“Paul wasn’t Mormon, was he?”

At that she barked a laugh. “No, no. Nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You haven’t told me how long you’ll be here.”

“Um, not sure, really. It’ll depend.”

“On?”

“How long Nora wants me to stay.”

“And we’re not to know anything about why she needs to fly you out from the States?”

“You know, it’s not really any of your business, but she broke her arm.”

“Don’t you tell me what isn’t my business. She’s my sister-in-law. She’s family. She owns the family
house
. Not that she thinks of it as such. Oh no, it’s all hers.”

“Sorry, um, even if you are a relative, I barely know you.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Typical. Can’t say I expected any different. You’re welcome ‘round our place for supper anytime.” She made it sound more like a challenge than an invitation. The words were barely out of her mouth before she’d turned on one spiky heel and stalked off. I saw her join a giant, bear of a man at the front of the chapel. There were thready blood vessels visible on his rather large nose, which met his forehead in a fold of skin that made him seem almost Neanderthal. His hands boasted fat fingers that had so much meat on them they appeared to curl, rather than have joints. The already diminutive Louisa looked like a child beside him.

I chose a seat towards the back. The more distance I could keep from these two, the better.

A
unt Nora was just getting up when I arrived at home. I found her in the kitchen in some jeans and a shirt that hung off her emaciated frame. At the sight of me coming in, she managed a thin smile. “Thought you’d be at church.” There was the scent of toast browning in the air, and the electric kettle heated water with a whooshing crescendo.

“I was. It’s over.”

“Ah.”

“You didn’t tell me Louisa was Mormon.”

My aunt grimaced at that. “Is she? Why am I not surprised?”

“How would she even find out about the Church?”

“By being a snoop. When I married into the family, she had to know everything about me. She didn’t approve of the marriage. That’s why I had the locks changed the moment Paul and I were man and wife.”

“Still, it’s kind of weird.”

“No, it’s not. She probably looked up ‘Mormon’ in the encyclopedia, contacted the Church, got some missionaries out to visit her, and then decided this was another way she could be superior to me, given I was inactive.”

“It’s worse, though. When she came up to me at church she...” My voice trailed off because all of the color had drained from Aunt Nora’s face. “Are you okay?” Before I finished the sentence I had to dash into the kitchen and steady her.

She trembled, and gave a small cry of pain when I put my hand on her arm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just help me sit down.” Her movements were jerky, like a marionette.

I slipped an arm around her, and noticed again how frail she was. Her shoulder blades bit deep into my bicep as I maneuvered her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” The words came as a whisper and she squeezed her eyes shut in a prolonged wince. We made it halfway to the sitting room before she doubled over. I nearly dropped her, but managed to help her lower herself down to the floor. She curled up, shoulders pressed to her knees. The fingers of one hand clenched her clothes in a white knuckled grip. The other hand, with its arm still in the splint, was balled into a fist.

“Aunt Nora?”

“Just never you mind Louisa.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about her just now. What’s the emergency number?”

“No, don’t bother them with-”

“What is it, Aunt Nora?” I made my tone as firm as I could and cursed myself for not knowing the answer already. If I was going to look after her, I needed to be ready for things like this... whatever this was.

“Nine... nine... nine,” she said between gasps.

I helped her lay down on her side on the carpet and scrambled for the phone. Seconds later I heard an almost bored voice say, “Emergency services?”

“Hi, my aunt’s in severe pain. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but she can’t even walk.”

“No x-rays,” said my aunt.

I tried to keep my attention on the emergency operator, who double checked our address. “Now, are you certain you couldn’t drive her?” he asked.

“I don’t drive over here.”

“Get a taxi?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“It’s just that we don’t like to send out ambulances if we can avoid it. They’re quite costly-”

“She’s got private insurance and is lying on the floor, unable to move. Get one out here now!”

“Right. One moment.”

It was all I could do not to bash the phone against the counter top. My aunt looked so small and her shoulders were shaking. I didn’t know if this was tears or tremors or convulsions of pain.

“One should be there shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Aunt Nora cried out again and I flew to her side. “Help’s coming,” I said. “Just try to relax.” I cast about for something, anything to make her more comfortable and seized upon the throw pillows on the couch. I packed one underneath her back and tucked the other under her head.

“I just don’t want x-rays,” she whispered. “Or scans or-”

“Listen to me. First we’re going to get you to an emergency room, and then we’re going to talk to a doctor, and we’re going to do whatever needs-”

She cried out again and tears ran from her eyes. One splashed off the tip of her nose and the other drew a line of mascara across her temple. I hadn’t noticed that she’d put on makeup that morning. I moved to wring my hands and noticed that I still held the phone. For one hazy moment I wondered if I’d hung up or if the operator were still on the line, but the sound of the doorbell startled me into tossing it onto the couch and dashing out into the entry way.

The paramedics, two men built like linebackers with a rolling stretcher between them, followed my lead. At the sight of Nora, on the floor, they both knelt down. “Hello?” said one. “Can you hear us?”

My aunt nodded, but didn’t open her eyes.

“Where do you hurt? Your belly there?”

Another nod.

“Can we feel?” He moved to straighten her legs away from her torso, but she screeched so loud that I clapped my hands over my ears.

“Right, I can’t tell if the abdomen’s distended-”

“Yeah, we just need to load her up.”

The collapsed the stretcher so that it was low enough for them to hoist my aunt onto it without much effort. They raised it up again and I followed them as they rolled it down the hall.

“She’s got private insurance,” I babbled. “That affect which hospital she goes to?”

“Not when she’s like this,” said one. “We’ll take her to the closest.”

“Right,” said the other one. “You want to ride in the ambulance, or you going to make your own way there?”

“I’ll come with you if that’s okay?” I was at my wits end, but I did remember to close and lock the door.