Rain

  "What a night!" he screamed back at the building and shifted quickly to speed us away before too many people had noticed.

  There was a cast party at a local pizza parlor. Mr. Bufurd was paying for it himself.

  "Shouldn't we at least make an appearance?" I asked Corbette as he drove.

  "Later," he said. "Stars are always supposed to arrive fashionably late."

  His laughter trailed behind us in the wind that lifted my hair and washed away all caution and care.

  I didn't believe him, but I was in their world of lies. What difference did one more make?

  Corbette wasn't lying about the flowers, however. When we entered his hideaway, I saw roses everywhere: a half dozen on a table here, another on the desk, another on the television set and even a vase filled at the center of the floor.

  "You must have spent a small fortune," I said laughing.

  "How often do we have a hit play? Guess what else I have for us," he said going to his little refrigerator. I shook my head. He opened it and produced a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. "You know what this is, right?"

  "I do, but I never really drank any," I said.

  "Tonight's a night for firsts. It's a premiere!"

  He opened the bottle and the champagne ran out the opening and streamed foam down the neck. He poured me a glass and one for himself.

  "To the most talented, most beautiful, and most charming new girl at Dogwood," he toasted. We clicked glasses and sipped. "Like it?"

  "Yes."

  He poured me some more and we performed another toast, this one to Mr. Bufurd for casting me. Then he put on some music, loosened the tie he had been wearing, and sat on the sofa. He patted the spot beside him.

  "Let's take a few minutes to relax. I feel like I've been running for miles," he said.

  "Me too. I just can't believe I did it." The excitement inside me bubbled as much as the champagne Corbette continued to pour in my glass.

  "I knew from the first day that you would be something special."

  "Sure," I said skeptically. "I saw how you were laughing at me that first day."

  "I was laughing at the other girls who were hoping you would fail and fail quickly."

  "You really think that's what they wanted?"

  "Don't tell me about Dogwood girls. I know Dogwood girls. They have rich chocolate running through their veins instead of blood."

  He made me laugh. I sipped the wonderful champagne and we joked about some of the others in the cast, especially Maureen.

  "I'm still wearing my make-up!" I realized.

  "So am I. Hey," he said, "that means we're still Emily and George." He put down his glass and took mine from my hand to place beside his before turning back to me. "That means we're married."

  I laughed. I was laughing at everything he said and my head that had been taking my thoughts on a merry-go-round began to spin even more. I didn't even realize he was kissing my neck and my face. His fingers undid my blouse so quickly, I was surprised to look down and discover it was completely undone and his hands were in and around my ribs, moving up to my bra. It seemed to fly away from my breasts and when he pressed his lips to mine, I didn't resist as he slipped my blouse over my shoulders and down my arms. In seconds I was naked from the waist up and his mouth was on my neck, my breasts, his lips and tongue over my nipples.

  When my head fell back, I felt as if I was falling, falling, falling and I clung to him to keep from hitting the floor. Vaguely, I remember moaning some small protest, but his hands were over my thighs and his lips were on mine again. He tasted so good and this was so wonderful a night and I had secretly committed myself to a special night, a night full of pleasure and ecstasy, defiance and abandon.

  When I felt his hardness moving between my legs, I tightened for a moment and then, as if casting my soul off like a ship into an undulating sea, I relaxed and accepted him. I rose and fell with his thrusts and barely heard his moans of pleasure over my own. He mumbled mad promises, vowed love and said all the things people say in movies and books when they surrender themselves fully and ultimately to each other. I was on stage again. He kept calling me Emily, interspersing his own words with words from the play. I half expected to hear an audience applauding when we were both spent and exhausted, clinging to each other for a long moment.

  I think I passed out for a few seconds at least. When I opened my eyes, he was lying back with his eyes closed and a smirk of contentment on his lips. I groped about for my clothes and, still dizzy, began to dress myself.

  "I feel a little queasy," I said suddenly sensing a wave of nausea rising.

  His eyes snapped open and then he looked terrified. "Jeeze, you're turning white!"

  He jumped up and fetched a garbage can.

  "Don't throw up on my furniture," he pleaded. He made it just in time.

  "I guess it's all just too much excitement for you," he commented as I groaned.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "Hey, I've done it plenty of times," he declared with pride.

  My head started to pound. I groaned again and lay back.

  "I'll get you a cold rag. Just relax," he said and put one hand on my forehead.

  I either passed out again or just fell into an exhausted sleep, for when I opened my eyes, I found the lights were dim and he was sprawled on the other sofa. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning!

  "Corbette!" I cried, sitting up. He didn't open his eyes. I put on my shoes and stood up. I did it so quickly, I was dizzy for a moment. As soon as that passed, I went to him and shook him hard.

  "Whaaaa." He opened his eyes. "What's the matter?"

  "It's nearly two-thirty in the morning. Why didn't you wake me up?"

  "It is?" He wiped his eyes and looked at the clock. "Oh yeah, it is."

  "It's not funny. I'm sure they're worried about me."

  "Why? It's a big night," he said casually. He looked like he wasn't going to get up.

  "You've got to take me home right now, Corbette. We missed the cast party, too! This is terrible."

  He opened his eyes and smiled.

  "Not all of it," he said.

  "Take me home, Corbette," I demanded.

  "Okay, okay. Jeeze, for a dead wife, you sure are pushy," he quipped, but I wasn't in the mood for any jokes.

  He took me over that bumpy back road route again. By the time we arrived at the house, I was feeling nauseous and sick.

  "Thanks for a nice time," he said.

  "Good night, Corbette."

  "'Night," he said without promising to call me. He drove off before I even reached the steps. It was so dark and quiet. It felt ominous as I opened the door. As I started for the stairs, Sissy came out of the kitchen. She was in her robe.

  "Why are you still awake, Sissy?" I asked.

  "I promised Mrs. Hudson I would be until you came home," she explained.

  "And I have a message for you from Mr. Brody," she added. "He waited until about one o'clock!'

  "He left?" I asked surprised.

  "Yes, he did. He told me to tell you he should have listened to his mother."

  It felt like I had stepped into a cold shower. It shook the weariness out of me and woke me to the wintry reality of where I was and who I was supposed to be. Something shattered inside me like thin ice.

  I was turning into the very thing I despised: a liar. I felt sorry for Brody, driving through the night, fueled by the disillusionment he had hoped to defeat.

  A long time ago, my mother gave herself to someone while she was living a life of her own fantasies, dooming me, I was afraid, to live the same false way, moving from one illusion to the next until I was left with nothing but the memory of myself.

  19

  Joy and Pain

  .

  The impact of the play and my performance

  continued well into the following week. All of my teachers who had attended repeated their

  congratulations, and Mrs. Whitney made a special tr
ip over from the administrative building to see me in Mr. Bufurd's class and offer her congratulations in person. And then Grandma Hudson surprised me one day with the news that Conor MacWaine was coming to dinner especially to talk to me about my future. I had no idea what that meant until he sat across from me in the dining room that night and said, "I think you could have an acting career."

  "Really?" I looked at Grandmother Hudson, who remained stone-faced and serious.

  "I really don't think I'm good enough," I said. Grandmother Hudson nearly growled.

  "I think Mr. MacWaine has a little more experience and a little more insight about that, Rain. He is the director of a prestigious drama school and for your information, students at his school must audition and most are turned down. Isn't that so, Conor?"

  "Yes."

  I looked at him again.

  "Some people have a natural inclination for it," he continued. "Let's call that talent, for want of a better word. They have an instinctive sense about timing, poise, and attitude. Of course, they must have the natural gifts of voice and appearance. They must have something to develop.

  "When I learned that this was actually your first and only experience on the stage, I was impressed. I will tell you that you have a certain look that I believe can be a remarkable strong point if you're guided and developed properly.

  "Most actors and actresses today don't have the training to do deep and complex parts. They should be schooled in the classics and they should all begin with the theater. The difference between theater and film is the theater relies on the spoken word. You have good diction and excellent expression. In my school you learn how to make your body a true vehicle of communication. Every gesture, every look, every word spoken has a purpose and is directed toward that purpose.

  "Popular American film stars are merely products for exploitation. They don't have lasting qualities and will be replaced as soon as the next Hollywood product is introduced. They are merchandised as if they were a new brand of toothpaste and not developed as talent.

  "Our school is serious and full of substance. It also requires, therefore, that you be a student, a good student. Which you are. For all these reasons, I think I could do something significant with you."

  I looked at Grandmother Hudson again.

  "What Mr. MacWaine is saying, Rain, is he wants you to attend his school of drama in London as soon as you are finished with school here this year."

  My mouth stayed open, but my tongue wouldn't move.

  Me? I almost said, but I was happy I hadn't. Grandmother Hudson might have thrown a fit about self-confidence again.

  "Live in London?" I finally managed to ask.

  "It won't be a problem. I have spoken with my sister and she is very excited about the possibility of your going there to live with her while you study the arts. I might even make the trip over with you and stay until you are settled," she added. "It's been some time since I've been to London."

  "And since you've seen our school," Mr. MacWaine said, "We've added a new dance facility and sound stage."

  "Yes. Mr. MacWaine's school also develops your ability to sing and to dance."

  "Dance?"

  "You'll be trained in ballet as well as modern interpretative dance," he explained. "Our teachers are world renowned?'

  I remained tongue-tied.

  "Doesn't this sound exciting to you?" Grandmother Hudson finally asked, impatient with my lack of reaction.

  "Yes, but...I never really thought of acting as a career for myself."

  "What did you expect you would do with yourself, Rain?" she followed with her lips tightening, "marry and raise a herd of children?"

  "No, I thought maybe I'd become a teacher," I said.

  "One can always fall back on that if she should fail or get discouraged," Mr. MacWaine said. "Frankly, I don't think that will be the case for you. I haven't made many errors of judgment when it comes to candidates. I have some rather well-known former students on the London stage at present and a number in film and television."

  "Well?" Grandmother Hudson pursued, thumping the table with her fingers.

  "I guess, I suppose, I..."

  "I understand. It's a great deal to have thrust on you like this," Mr. MacWaine said, smiling.

  "Nonsense," Grandmother Hudson said. "It's the only way for it to happen. Either she does it with a full heart and determination, diving right in, or she doesn't attempt it at all."

  "Can't I think about it for a while?" I begged.

  "How many applicants do you have applying and on a waiting list at present, Conor?" Grandmother Hudson asked him.

  He sat back and thought for a moment.

  "About four hundred," he said.

  "And how many will you take?" she followed.

  "Not more than ten new students," he replied.

  She looked at me.

  "I'm just so surprised by all this," I moaned.

  She softened and turned back to Mr.

  MacWaine.

  "The truth is the girl has rarely had any good fortune in her life and when it appears, she is skeptical and afraid," she explained. "I'll call you tomorrow with her decision," she promised him.

  He turned back to me.

  "I won't disappoint you, Rain. You will benefit from your experiences at my school and with Mrs. Hudson as your benefactor, you will have great advantages," he said.

  I nodded. I didn't want to appear ungrateful. It was just the idea of going to another country and being so far away from Mama while I attempted to do something people only dream about doing. What would Roy say? And Mama?

  I couldn't wait to get Mama on the phone and tell her all about it. I went upstairs after dinner and tried to call again, and again, the phone rang and rang with no one picking up. Why hadn't Mama tried to call me all this time? I wondered. Maybe she had decided in the end to go see what she could do for Ken, after all. No matter how bad he was, she still had her memories and she wasn't the kind of person who could just write someone off forever, I thought. I decided I would call every night until I spoke with her.

  I wanted to get right to studying for my finals, but my mind drifted back to the discussion at dinner. Was I really that good? Why was Grandmother Hudson determined that I do it, and so determined that she volunteered to go to England with me and see that I was well situated?

  Maybe all she was really hoping to do was get rid of me, I thought. Maybe she and my mother had concluded that this would satisfy Victoria and would certainly keep me away from Brody. If I was as far off as England, they could keep the secret of my identity locked away. It really wasn't that I had talent. It was just a convenient solution. Was I wrong to think this? What a horrible thing to do to me: send me off to try to become something I could never become. They couldn't do that, could they, and yet how could I believe in anyone who was comfortable sleeping on a bed of lies?

  I wanted desperately to trust Grandmother Hudson, to believe she really did care about me now. She had put me into her will, hadn't she? I asked myself.

  Or was that a phony thing, too? Was all this designed to win my confidence and then to send me away full of false hope? Beni always accused me of being too naive, believing in people too much. Was she right? Was I a fool and an easy mark without someone like Roy looking over me?

  The questions bounced around in my head like pingpong balls. Questioning my own weaknesses when it came to people made me think about Corbette. He hadn't called rue since our private celebration. He didn't even call to see how I was the day after. Every day after school, I expected to see him, but he never came over from Sweet William. Had he taken advantage of me? Maybe I was a fool. It made me think that I should not agree to anything too quickly, even a supposed golden opportunity.

  Before she retired for the evening,

  Grandmother Hudson stopped at my room. I was working on math and didn't even hear her knock and then open the door.

  "Rain," she said and I turned.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I was struggli
ng with a problem."

  "So am I," she said. "I was disappointed in you at dinnen Mr. MacWaine was doing me a great favor by attending your play and auditioning you for his school. It's no exaggeration to say that there are probably thousands of young people who would love to have this chance presented to them. You've never seemed ungrateful before, but tonight..."

  "I appreciate it. I'm just...I'd like to talk to Mama about it, first. Please," I begged.

  "I see. Yes, I suppose that would be right," she admitted. "After all, the woman was a mother to you all your life. All right, call her immediately and discuss it with her."

  "I've been calling, but there's no answer," I said. "I'm starting to worry. She might have gone back to help my stepfather, who was arrested for armed robbery."

  "Arrested?" She thought for a moment. "All right. Give me the phone number and the address and I'll see to it that your mama is contacted tomorrow, wherever she is."

  "You will?"

  "I said I would. When I decide to do something, I do it. I don't waste time wondering should I or shouldn't I? What if this, what if that? I do what has to be done," she assured me.

  I wrote down the number and the address with Aunt Sylvia's name.

  "Fine. Go back to your homework problem:' she said, "and solve it."

  I watched her leave and then I smiled and shook my head. There were flashes of Victoria in her, but not as much of my mother. What, I wondered, had I inherited from her?

  At school the next day, I was surprised to see Corbette and some of his friends watching me riding in equestrian class. They had come over from Sweet William and were all standing by the fence. When I made a circle, I rode closer and then stopped.

  "Hi," I said. "What are you doing here?"

  "We had a break between classes and I thought we'd come over to see how you ride. You sit in that saddle a lot better now," he said and his friends all laughed. What was so funny?

  "Practice," I said, "pays."

  "Is that an invitation?" he asked and again, the clump of boys beside him roared.

  "What's wrong with you?" I asked.. He seemed so different. "You never called me."

  "I've been busy." He smiled at his buddies who all wore sly smiles and who all watched my reactions. "Teddy here is not as busy, however."