Triple Exposure Page 11

  Because of her part-time job at The Goose Inn and her full-time schedule at the Tech, Natalie was seldom home. At first Nicky had missed her presence—her tart tongue, her good cooking—but then she began to appreciate her own privacy again. When Nattie was home, Dan came around. The three of them ate together. “No. She’s either at the Tech or at work.”

  Her mother frowned. “Well, get down off there and offer me some ice tea or something. It’s not every day I come to visit.”

  Said just like a queen, Nicky reflected as she dutifully jumped to the ground and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Where have you been, anyway?”

  “Busy.” She looked and sounded annoyed. “Your sister, Nancy, needed someone to take care of the kids until she found somebody permanent, which she did last week. She started working in this travel agency, the one in the mall, you know.” Nicky didn’t know, but she listened as she hooked her arm through her mother’s and walked toward the house. “Your brother moved out and I’m a bit lonesome.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” she said, a little flattered.

  “Well, I thought I’d see how things are going since I haven’t heard from either one of you for such a long time. You could call, you know.”

  “So could you, Mom,” Nicky replied, suddenly irritated.

  Her mother sighed. “I can’t stay long. Tell me, is Natalie still going out with that farmer?”

  “Dan, you mean? He’s a nice man—very helpful, kind, generous. He’d be a good catch.” She wasn’t sure if that was true and didn’t know why she said it.

  The dog leaped on them when Nicky opened the door. The last way she wanted to spend this afternoon was trapped inside. She poured them both a glass of ice tea and told her mother about Brittle. As she was reluctantly sitting down, Meg called.

  “I can’t work. I poked some poor guy at least four times before I got a vein. I thought he was going to pass out. I’m usually pretty good with a needle.”

  “My mother’s here right now. Why don’t you come out after work?”

  When her mother left, Nicky drove the tractor to where she had stopped cutting last Friday. There were a few working hours before Meg showed up. Despite the pollen, thistles, poison ivy, stinging insects and occasional slaughter of small animals, mowing soothed her. It was a mindless, if sometimes destructive, embrace of the outdoors.

  As she bounced along the rough roadside, she wondered what it was about her mother that sometimes bothered her so. Was it Cleo’s classy good looks, which she had passed on only to Nancy? Did she envy her own mother? Was it because she so often felt as if she were her parents’ last thought? She knew they loved her. That should be enough. Her father was always trying to foist money on her, his version of caring. Her mother gave advice and warnings as if they were gifts. And perhaps they were.

  As she was going home, Meg passed her on the road, blowing her horn and waving. Nicky jerked at the unexpected sound, nearly sending the tractor into the ditch. When she turned off outside the barn and stiffly climbed down, she felt momentarily disoriented, overwhelmed by the relative quiet—birds singing, the dog barking, Tater whinnying.

  She looked into Meg’s gray eyes, at the whites streaked with red. “Haven’t been sleeping much, have you? I have to take a quick shower.”

  Following her in, Meg said, “I keep seeing Brittle whenever I shut my eyes. I just want to know if he’s all right.”

  Nicky closed the bathroom door and turned on the water, but Meg opened it and sat on the toilet seat. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in the raw before, and I can’t talk through a closed door.”

  “Wait till I get out. Beth might show up, or Natalie or Dan.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out, and anyway, I can just tell them I’m distraught or something, which is the truth.”

  Nicky shot her an exasperated look and stepped into the tub. So what if Beth found the two of them in the bathroom? So what if she found them in bed? But it did matter if Denise discovered them in a compromising position. She shuddered at the thought.

  “I just hate Denise right now,” Meg said. Nicky was startled. “She’s so upset because I didn’t sell Brittle before he disappeared. I have him insured for a bunch of money, but the insurance doesn’t cover ‘mysterious disappearance.’” Meg’s voice faded to a murmur.

  “What?” Nicky turned off the shower and grabbed a towel off the rack.

  “She was counting on selling him for a down payment on a house. Can you believe it?” Meg’s snort emphasized her incredulity. “What she doesn’t know, and what you must never tell her, is that he’s worth five times what she thinks he is.” Meg’s voice dropped again. “Some guy offered me twenty-five thousand for him at that last horse show.”

  Nicky nearly dropped the towel. “How did you latch onto this super-horse?”

  “A friend gave him to me when he moved to California. He couldn’t afford to take him. He taught me all I know about horses and showing.” Her eyes lit up. “I love it, the showing part. When you’re in a class and your horse is working good, you’re on top of the world.”

  “And you think he’ll be sold for meat when he’s worth twenty-five-thousand dollars?” Nicky wrapped the towel around herself and went to her bedroom.

  Meg was right behind her. “Like I said, he’s not worth anything without his papers.”

  Nicky turned her back and pulled some clothes on over her still-damp skin.

  “You have a cute butt.”

  “Quit looking.” But Nicky was staring out the window. It had just occurred to her that if Brittle wasn’t found there would be no more board money and maybe no more horse shows. Meg had been her door to a hoped-for career in horse photography—even though she had secretly denied such aspirations. Panic moved in and she attempted to ward it off with deep breaths.

  “What’s wrong, Nicky?”

  “I have to call Margo.” Why Margo came to mind, she didn’t have a clue. She hadn’t heard from her in weeks. Punching in Margo’s number on the bedroom phone, listening to the rings, hearing Margo’s voice on the machine and leaving her own message gave Nicky a chance to get a grip on her fear.

  When she hung up, Meg said, “Let’s go to the shows next weekend. I’ve got to keep looking for him, and you shouldn’t stop the photography bit. You have picture orders, don’t you?”

  Nicky had been sitting on the edge of the bed. She smiled shakily at Meg, grateful for a thread of hope. That was when she realized how much she needed a plan, some kind of format for her future—and not just financial reassurance. More importantly, she couldn’t drift through her days with nothing that needed to be done.

  ***

  On Wednesday morning she awakened at six, tossed and turned until seven when she heard Nattie clatter down the stairs, and gave up on sleep. She mowed the yard and pasture, weeded the garden, cleaned the barn, and vacuumed the house. Preparing herself for Beth’s arrival, she tried not to allow herself many expectations, but there was that hot rush of excitement when the Probe turned into the driveway.

  Greeting Beth, she felt almost shy. “Have much trouble getting away?”

  Unfolding herself from the car, Beth looked preoccupied. Then she gave Nicky a dazzling smile, as if putting away whatever was on her mind. “A piece of cake. I just had to lie to my secretary, plead a migraine, pretend a meeting with a client and sneak out of the office.” She glanced up the drive and down the road and Nicky followed her gaze.

  “Expecting someone?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Want to come inside?”

  “Why don’t I change into some of your clothes and we’ll go somewhere else?”

  Nicky laid out a pair of jeans and t-shirt. She helped Beth out of her blouse and skirt, slip and camisole, and watched her peel off pantyhose. When Beth was down to bra and panties, Nicky took her hands and coaxed her onto the bed. “I can’t wait.”

  Nicky closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. This was the ultimate comfort: the warmth and softness of their
bodies making contact. It was a brief thought before desire rolled over her.

  With closed eyes she stroked Beth. She thought she knew the texture of her skin, the curves and planes, the intimate crevices. Exploring them all as if it were the first and last time, she was equally aware of Beth’s hands and mouth on her. Neither could slow the rush of passion. Caressing, tasting, kissing—it was over quickly, almost before it began.

  “Jesus,” Beth breathed afterward. “Talk about suppressed desire.” She raised herself on an elbow and peeked out the window. “Let’s get cleaned up and dressed and go for a walk.”

  Reluctant to leave the bed, wanting to make love at a slower pace, Nicky responded only to Beth’s apprehension. Pulling her close, she felt her tenseness and yielded to it. “Okay, Beth. Whatever you want.”

  Despite the brilliant day, there was an unmistakable feel of fall—the diminished heat of sun, a coolness to the air, the withering of grass. They strolled toward the stream. At first Tater had frightened them by bearing down on them at full gallop. But Nicky had clutched Beth’s hand and stood her ground, unwilling to relinquish the field to him and knowing that he wouldn’t hurt them, that he only wanted company. He trailed along behind them now, tossing his head at Scrappy’s occasional lunges.

  “He makes me nervous,” Beth said.

  “Meg said she’d be here Friday after work.” She glanced at Beth. Wisps of hair curled damply against her neck. “Have you thought anymore about all of this?” she asked, wondering if the sex made her less desperate.

  Beth sighed and turned to meet Nicky’s gaze. Her pupils were black specks in the daylight, her hazel eyes the color of the stream—the color of fall, Nicky thought. “I’ve done nothing but think about it. My thoughts circle endlessly. Mark still isn’t reasonable about any of this and he’s always been a reasonable person. When I suggest a separation, he still threatens me with losing Matt and my job. I don’t know what to do, Nicky.”

  “He knows he’s got you by the short hairs,” Nicky replied despairingly. She wouldn’t suggest that Beth challenge him, because she knew that Beth must be more aware of her own options than she was. What drove her to distraction was that Beth let herself be controlled. She wished she hadn’t marred the day by asking, but she had to know if there were any changes.

  Beth looked at her watch. “I have to get back to the office soon.”

  When Nicky returned to the house, she found a message from Margo on the machine. She phoned her, and her voice made Nicky realize she missed working in the Art Barn, missed talking art with Margo.

  “I’ve been out of town, Nicky. I didn’t have time to call you before I left, but I sold two more prints. Have you got anymore, maybe some horse stuff?”

  This small success swelled Nicky’s self-esteem, which had shrunk dangerously in the last few days.

  The next morning her spirits plummeted when she awakened to what looked like an all-day drizzle. Unable to stand being cooped up by the cold rain, not even with a book, she decided to check the job market.

  Nicky had spent a day developing film at Photoplay. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to spend every day of the week working there, but no one had offered her a full-time job or even remuneration for the work. She had two dozen rolls of film developed for free to take with her to the shows on the weekend.

  Stopping in at Job Services, she talked to the lady with the red cheeks and ruby lips who cheerfully told her, “Sorry, honey, there’re no openings. Maybe you want to expand your field of interest.”

  “I’ll look harder,” Nicky promised. She had been holding her own with the unemployment check, the board money and her share of the mowing profits, plus occasional infusions of monetary support from her dad for Natalie’s board. Now she had lost the hundred dollars a month for Brittle, and soon the mowing would end.

  She hadn’t seen Denise since the weekend, and she crossed the hall to the unemployment division. It was hard to remain impartial toward Denise when Meg told all her faults.

  Denise spotted her and waved her to the front of the line. Those waiting shuffled their feet disapprovingly and one man muttered, “Hey, lady, the line starts at the rear.”

  “She’s not in line,” Denise said. “Are you? Want to go to lunch?”

  Nicky glanced at her watch: eleven forty-five. She hadn’t intended to spend the noon hour with Denise; she’d just planned to say hello. “When do you get off?”

  “Let me get someone to take my place,” Denise said, eliciting a collective moan from the people in line.

  A dark-haired, heavy-set man took her window and Denise went out into the cold rain with Nicky. She popped open her umbrella and walked toward the silver Celica. “Let’s take my car.”

  This was the car Nicky had thought was being used to spy on Beth. That Denise had been watching Meg and Brittle instead was made more insidious now that Brittle was gone. Nicky shivered as she got into the car, escaping the wet chill.

  When Denise turned the key, the windshield wipers quietly thumped across the glass, “Too bad we can’t open the roof. I’m glad you stopped by. Where do you want to go for lunch?”

  Nicky glanced at the moon roof over her head. “You decide.” She wasn’t even hungry.

  The car shot out of the parking lot. Denise drove in spurts, a lot like the way she moved—slamming on the brakes at intersections, jerking forward and around corners, creeping in between. She jumped a lane and turned a corner without using her turn signal. It was almost more than Nicky could stand. Her teeth were clenched, her body rigid by the time they hit the curb outside Reynolds Restaurant. She caught herself breathing a sigh of relief and squelched it.

  Over coffee and chili they discussed Brittle’s disappearance and what it meant. “I know Meg is angry with me, but she can’t really afford a horse. We’ll never be able to buy a house as long as she has that horse, and she’s gone every weekend. Before she started showing Brittle we used to spend our weekends together. We went places besides horse shows.”

  Nicky didn’t know what to say, except what she was sure would be the wrong thing—that perhaps Meg and Denise weren’t compatible. “She’s real worried about something bad happening to Brittle.”

  “I know. But it’s hard to be sympathetic when she never worries about anything except that damn horse.”

  “There’s good reason to worry, I think,” Nicky said placatingly, spooning up the last of the chili, now thinking she could easily eat another bowl of it.

  “The only good reason for finding him,” Denise said darkly, “is to sell him, since she can’t collect on his disappearance.”

  Momentarily speechless, Nicky stared at Denise. She had had a problem liking her from the beginning. This obvious disregard for what happened to Brittle didn’t help. Floundering for less controversial conversation, she asked about work.

  Distractedly running a hand over her hair, Denise said, “It’s tiresome dealing with unhappy people all day long.”

  That night Nicky went to the livestock sale barn with Meg, who had come over after work and begged her to go. “I went Tuesday night alone. We don’t have to sit through the entire auction, just see what horses they’re selling. It’ll take maybe an hour.”

  She told Meg about her lunch with Denise, but Meg said nothing, hardly seeming interested. It was raining steadily, a bone-chilling downpour. They raced to the Rabbit. Unlike Denise, Meg accelerated smoothly and swiftly through the gears. Nicky leaned back and relaxed.

  They sat in bleachers that looked down on the sale ring. The place was surprisingly crowded for such a miserable night. Rain pounded the steel roof. There was a stand for the auctioneer on the sawdust-covered floor where the livestock were paraded. Bawling calves, squealing pigs and bleating sheep were brought in—and sold off. As they gave voice to their confusion and fear of the unfamiliar place under the lights, of the auctioneer’s loud spiel over the microphone, Nicky wanted to buy them all and take them to a safe place. Wild-eyed, they turned and twisted, searching
for escape.

  The ponies and horses were sold last. Brittle was not among them. Nicky blinked back tears. Not that the animals were being abused, but that they were chattel to be sold to the highest bidder—like TV sets—somehow seemed wrong to her. She knew the utter disregard for their sensibilities would be reflected in their physical treatment. Whether they were fed well or watered would depend on economic expediency.

  Meg leaned toward her. “We can go now.”

  “I hate this place,” she said, standing up and angrily jerking on her jacket.

  “I do too. I can’t let Brittle go through here. Can you?”

  Nicky shook her head. If she had her way, she’d close the sale barn down.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nicky’s parents had gone away to celebrate her mother’s fifty-sixth birthday in August. But there was no escaping her father’s birthday party, planned for October fourteenth. Her mother expected the children to attend—the invitation a command. Her father would be sixty-six.

  “I can’t believe he’s closer to seventy than sixty,” she said to Natalie as they bounced along in Nicky’s truck.

  “I always thought he was older than God.” He had been nearly forty-six when Natalie had been born.

  “I suppose. You probably thought the same of me.”

  They turned the corner of Old Orchard Road and pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick house laced with ivy. There were five bedrooms and two baths upstairs, a huge kitchen, small library, large living room, dining room, and half-bath downstairs, wraparound porch out front, and a screened-in porch on the back. The house sat on a well-tended acre lot with decorative shrubbery and carefully spaced trees.

  When Nicky walked in the side door, she was assaulted with memories. The warm and redolent kitchen brought past holidays to mind.

  Her brother, wearing a half-smile, leaned against the door frame between the kitchen and the dining room. Broad-shouldered and tall, like his father, he wrapped himself in a protective cloak of cynicism. Mimicking the sound of a trumpet, he announced in a friendly voice, “The princesses have arrived to celebrate the royal birthday.”