The Painted Room Page 19

Chapter 16

  The Kiss

  May slept poorly all night on the pretty velvet cushions. She awoke feeling tired and irritable.

  The morning brought the same pale white mist as the day before. It surrounded the encampment and wove in and out of the tents, intensifying her gloomy mood that hadn't yet left her from the night before. She felt hollowed out like a pumpkin shell.

  She went to collect Sheila and found her coming out of Venus's tent, but Sheila just looked at her vacantly when she called her name. Even after repeated prompting, Sheila still didn't know who she was, although she was distressed at May's agitation and tried to console her as she might a distraught child who had lost their way.

  Most of May's life she had spent trying to get away from people: their interruptions; their intrusions; their demands; their constant eating away of her time, babbling insipid small talk about hairstyles, movies and personal issues that they seemed to have no insight or desire to fix.

  She had often imagined what it would be like to be free of it all—all the messiness and chaos they brought into her world.

  But now that it was upon her, she could hardly stand it.

  For the first time in her life, she was lonely and having never felt lonely before, she was confused. In fact, she was so confused that she didn't know which she hated worse: being lonely or being confused.

  She went into the orchard to sit and think. She needed to get her thoughts clear. If she could do that, then she would feel normal again. But like a rolling ball of twine, everything she had ever thought was unraveling, and she along with it.

  And overriding all of this mental confusion, the unexplained sadness that had hit her the night before still ate at her from the inside out.

  In the orchard, she ran into a mob of beautiful people milling about. She tried to sidestep them, to skirt around the mass of humanity and avoid their intrusive glances. As inconspicuously as she could, she pressed herself to the edge of a row of apple trees and then dashed through to the other side.

  She bumped into Venus unexpectedly and literally. She recoiled immediately at the feel of the soft velvet of her gown.

  "Why dear, whatever is the matter?" said Venus.

  Caught off guard and faced with the embodiment of all her troubles May found herself shouting, "If you really want to know, it's you! You're the cause of all this. With your poisoned apples and everything else. Sheila doesn't even recognize me anymore, and Mr. Carlisle might as well be dead." (She didn't care right then if anyone knew or not that he really wasn't her uncle.)

  Then she surprised herself by saying, "I bet you'd probably just like me to disappear and go away or something. You don't like me anyway. You've hardly noticed me since I've been here, and all these people just keep staring at me like I was some kind of circus freak." She glowered at the shocked faces around her and there they were doing it again! "Mr. Carlisle will probably never wake up, and Sheila and I will probably never get home, and it's all your fault. I hate this place, and I hate you!"

  Her tirade over, May felt her cheeks burning as every eye stared at her. She tried to find a way through the whispering and staring faces, but not one of them stepped aside to let her pass. Short of bursting through their bodies, she could find no way out. She plopped down on the grass, buried her head in her arms and wished that she could disappear completely.

  Venus knelt down in front of her. She put both arms around her and pressed May's head against her smooth bosom. The goddess smelled like a dizzying mix of fruit and flowers.

  May came undone. "I don't know what's come over me. I feel terrible. I've never been so miserable in my entire life. I just want it to stop. It will stop, won't it?"

  "Yes, dear," Venus said soothingly. "I promise it will pass. You're just worried about your sister and you feel badly for your uncle. It's only natural. Please know I never meant to slight you, dear. When you're an empress, there's so much to do and so many people who need you in one way or another that it's almost impossible sometimes. And rest assured the people here don't mean you any harm, they just find you interesting. You see, most everyone seems the same here after a while. Please, don't be sad." The goddess rocked her gently. "I spoke to your uncle just this morning. Look, he's coming now. Right over there. He's walking into the orchard as we speak."

  May picked up her head, and there he was—making long strides and frowning in thought. He caught sight of her and Venus huddled together on the grass and headed towards them at a brisk pace.

  She disengaged herself quickly from the goddess and wiped her face on her sleeve.

  Carlisle stopped several feet away. Venus got up, whispered something to him, smiled back once at May, and left. One by one, the mass of beautiful people poked along behind the divinity. A young male attendant in chartreuse glanced back, and she couldn't resist sticking her tongue out at him.

  Carlisle took a linen napkin from his pocket, sat down next to her, and opened it up in his hand. There were four moon cakes inside. He offered her one. "I got worried when I couldn't find you anywhere."

  She nodded and took one of the cakes. He took another from the napkin, and she watched him shove it into his mouth whole.

  "How many of these things have you eaten?" she asked.

  "I don't know," he said, sucking his fingers. "I've lost count. Why?"

  "It's just that you look a little ... " She took a small bite of cake.

  "What?"

  "I don't know. Fatter?" And then she added, "I mean that in a good way."

  "Thanks," he said with a small shrug, not offended in the least.

  "I'm glad to see you up and around. You look better." She noticed with surprise, "Your bruise is gone."

  His hand went up to his jaw, and he moved it back and forth a little. "Come to think of it, my jaw feels better too." His fingers felt the bridge of his nose. It was still crooked.

  "Maybe you have to sleep longer for that."

  Carlisle shoveled another whole moon cake into his mouth. "Strange sort of twilight sleep," he mumbled as he rubbed his sticky fingers together. "Odd dreams fading in and out."

  She leaned back on one elbow and scrutinized him. "You know, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full. I thought they taught everyone better manners back in the day. And all that cussing you do under your breath—you aren't a very good nineteenth century gentleman."

  "Sorry," he said guiltily and swallowed. "My wife used to scold me too."

  "So what did Venus say to you just now?"

  He sighed. "The goddess has requested us to dinner tonight—"

  May groaned. "Can't we just get going?"

  "Maybe requested wasn't the right word."

  She groaned again.

  "Look, I'd like to get going too, but we aren't going anywhere without her help. I don't know if you've happened to notice, but this place is an island. We can take the rowboat again, but we don't even know how long it is to wherever we need to go—even if we knew where that was. And we could be days or weeks on the water. Venus intends to have a boat prepared for us in the morning and—and there's something else I need to ask her about as well. I know you'd like to get going right away. So would I, but we're going to have to indulge her."

  "Have you talked to Sheila this morning?" she asked.

  "Yes, I have." His face clouded over. He stared at the last pastry in his napkin.

  "She didn't remember me at all this morning," said May.

  "Nor I. Venus had to tell her who I was. Incidentally, Venus kept calling me 'Sir Carlisle'."

  "We kind of had to promote you a little."

  "I thought it might be something of the kind," he said. "As to Sheila, I don't know. This place is strange. Maybe it affects people in different ways. She'll probably be fine once we leave here."

  "If she even wants to go by then. Did you notice? She's even starting to look like them. You know, in all honesty, she looks a lot like Venus."

  "Maybe that's it then," he said. "When I first met Sheila, I thought sh
e seemed familiar. Now that you mention it, she kind of does look like Venus." He got up, dusted his hands off then held one out to her. "Come on, let's go. The day's wearing on, and I'd like to see what kind of arrangements are being prepared for the boat. I want you to find Sheila and keep your eye on her this afternoon. Don't let her out of your sight."

  "I was going to anyway," she said defensively, throwing the rest of the moon cake into the bushes before taking his hand. While she was brushing herself off, some women passed by, glanced her way briefly, and then smiled openly at Carlisle. He put up a hand to tip his hat, but discovered he had none. Embarrassed, he gave a small bow instead and the women giggled.

  "Forgot your hat too?" asked May with a smirk.

  "Hmm? What's that?" he said, looking after the women.

  "Never mind," she said, shaking her head.

  "They sure seem very friendly here."

  "Well they may smile at you, but they all keep looking at me like I've got three heads."

  Carlisle was only half listening. "Maybe you should try smiling back for a change. I'm sure it's not what you think."

  "What's that?" said May.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You just said, 'I'm sure it's not what you think.' What did you mean by that?"

  He opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.

  "Go on. Tell me."

  "Nothing. I don't think anything."

  She got ahead of him and stood in his way on the path. "Well, I already know that, but tell me what you were going to say."

  His tone became stern. "Young lady, it's impolite to back people into a corner."

  "It's impolite to start a sentence and not finish it, old man."

  Seeing that he wasn't going to be able to get her to back down, he relaxed. "It's no great mystery, May. You're always looking at the stones when you walk. I'm surprised you can notice anyone looking at you when you hardly lift your head up anyway."

  "I do that?"

  "Yes."

  She turned around and started walking again so that he couldn't see her face.

  "I wouldn't worry," he said. "It's fairly normal to be a little—I mean; to feel a little awkward at your age."

  "Awkward?" she sputtered.

  "Perhaps that came out wrong."

  "Just forget it."

  "I only meant to say that—I mean—I wasn't—it's just that it's—well, it's—common. I daresay everybody goes through it. Lord knows I did."

  "Oh, I see now. Like it's supposed to somehow make me feel better to know I'm just one of a zillion people to go through the same thing?"

  "That's not what I meant at all. You're putting words in my mouth. Let's just forget it."

  They walked on in silence another quarter of a mile, until they passed a young couple entwined in a heated embrace under the shade of a peach tree. Raising his eyebrows at them, Carlisle broke the silence by saying, "They really are uncommonly friendly here. A little too much, I think. Let's see if we can't locate Sheila. There's no telling what might happen. In fact, I suspect the sooner we get out of here the better for all of us."

  "Amen to that."

  "After we find her, I don't want you to let her out of your—" Carlisle stopped short on the path and cocked his head to the side.

  "What is it?" asked May, stopping along with him.

  "What color was that dress Sheila had on this morning?" He gestured up and down the length of his body and scowled disapprovingly, "You know the one I mean."

  "You mean the one she almost had on? Gold, I think. Why?"

  "That's what I thought." He took three large steps backward, glared in the direction of the couple smooching under the peach tree and darted off the path.

  Carlisle had the boy by the scruff of the neck when May finally caught up to him. He yanked the young man onto his feet and gave him a shove that sent him reeling. May caught a brief glimpse of the boy's handsome frightened face as he glanced over his shoulder, before finding his feet again and scrambling away.

  Sheila slipped behind the peach tree and clutched the trunk, her lips cherry red, flushed from the kiss.

  "You don't even know him," Carlisle yelled, following her around the tree with his hands on his hips as she scooted around the trunk. He stopped short then dashed the other way with the same agility and speed that had allowed him to out-fox Fowler.

  Sheila shrieked, left the tree and ran behind May for protection, clutching her shoulders.

  "Well?" he shouted.

  "I—he—he just asked for a kiss," stammered Sheila.

  "A—?" Carlisle's mouth flew open. "That was a kiss?" He made frantic tangled motions in the air with his hands. "You both were so twizzled up together I couldn't figure out where either of you began or ended. I've seen cat yarn that was easier to sort out. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

  Sheila's nails dug into May's shoulders. "I'm sorry?" she said.

  "Do you know what that boy was thinking right now? Do you?" yelled Carlisle.

  "Holy crap, this guy's crazy? I better get my butt the hell out of here fast?" offered May.

  "Before that," yelled Carlisle, with a sweeping motion of his hand.

  "Oh," said May and Sheila, nodding knowingly.

  "Wrong again. The answer is: absolutely nothing. He wasn't thinking anything. And apparently, neither were you. You're practically in the middle of nowhere, and you don't know him from Adam." He gestured around at the vacant hills with a look of amazement. "What if he'd been dangerous?" Then, he lowered his dark eyebrows, crossed his arms over his chest and said with a voice that could have come from a storm cloud, "And frankly, Sheila, I'm also surprised at you. I thought you were a nice girl."

  "I am a nice girl," said Sheila weakly, on the verge of tears.

  "Then why are you behaving like a common little tart? What would your mother and father say?"

  Sheila stifled a sob and ran off.

  "Thanks a lot. There she goes again," said May, looking after her.

  Still with his arms crossed, Carlisle gazed after Sheila with a mixture of righteous satisfaction and a twinge of conscience.

  "She doesn't have a father, by the way. Leastways, not one that she knows."

  Carlisle winced.

  "You didn't know. I'm not sorry you said something to her. I've been trying to tell her the same thing for a couple of years now. But I don't see why the girl always has to get the bad reputation. Nice guys can do anything they want and nobody calls them a tart." She tried to keep a straight face at the word.

  "I didn't make the rules, May."

  "Who said you had to enforce them, then?"

  "Don't be simple minded. She has a little bit more to lose, don't you think? Just maybe she'll think twice about it next time. It's for her own good."

  "I'm not so sure about that," she said. "You just made her feel awful about something you wouldn't think twice about."

  "And just what would you know about what I would or wouldn't think twice about? Look, she's getting away. Will you just go follow her? Don't let her out of your sight. Not in this place anyway."

  "Don't worry, I'll keep my eye on her."

  "Good. And maybe if you're right there she won't forget who you are." He uncrossed his arms and held out his hands. "And for God's sake, May—"

  A peach dropped down and struck him on the head. It bounced off and fell into one of his open palms. He tossed it from him like it was a hot coal and wiped his hand on his vest. "The devil," he breathed out, staring at the peach on the ground.

  May laughed.

  He pointed after Sheila. "Follow her! She's getting away. And May—"

  "Yes, yes, yes. I get it already. I'll keep her out of trouble." She turned and broke into a run.