Close Encounters (24 page)

Carol looked at what was left of the figure on the page. She glanced up to a raised platform in the center of the room where a middle-aged and slightly overweight woman reclined on a chaise lounge. The woman sat perfectly still and was absolutely naked. Carol studied the position of the model and the perspective from where she stood. She held out her hand to her student.

“What did I tell you about using erasers?”

The girl sheepishly put her eraser into Carol’s palm. “We’re not supposed to use them. But what should I do when I make a mistake?”

“And what did I tell you about mistakes?” Carol continued patiently. When the student didn’t answer, Carol continued. “When you’re sketching, you don’t make mistakes. You’re just putting down what you see. If it doesn’t look right, then try again. Remember, this is not about doing a perfect image of the model. It’s about learning how to use your eyes to see more than you think you do. And it’s okay to change your mind about a line and draw over it. That way you can compare.”

“Okay. Thanks.” The girl nodded.

“Another thing, class,” Carol began, speaking loudly enough for the other students to hear as she turned around the room. Her gaze skimmed over someone standing in the doorway of the studio. “Sometimes less is better. Be subtle and…” She stopped talking as she realized the person was not a student or faculty member. It was Lee.

“Be subtle and what?” a student called out.

“Leave something to the viewer’s imagination,” she answered, keeping her gaze on Lee.

Carol indicated her astonishment at his sudden appearance with raised brows and a slight smile of pleasure. Lee’s expression was not discernible, but Carol was not surprised. She had quickly learned that his modus operandi was to observe much and say little. It was probably what made him an effective police officer. It
definitely
made him an interesting man. The strong, silent type.

His dark eyes held a sensual regard and a secret warmth. He made her want to smile.

Walking around the studio easels, Carol made her way casually to the door. “There’s no need to put down every detail,” she continued instructing her class. “Make the audience use their eyes as well.” She stopped within a few feet of Lee. “Five more minutes and then we’ll try something else,” she concluded.

Once he had her attention, Lee never took his eyes off Carol, as if he had to assure himself that he could trust what he saw and knew about her. That Carol Taggart was one of the most emotionally honest women he’d ever met.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Lee, her voice filled with wonder.

He glanced around the room of students, to the model at the center. “Is it okay to be here? Am I in the way?”

“No—people come by all the time.”

“Probably because of the naked woman.”

She suppressed a laugh. “She’s a professional model. That sounds like your vice squad voice.”

“Does it? I guess it’s hard for me to step out of character.”

Carol’s gaze became warm at his inadvertent confession. “You just did. Unless you came to arrest one of my students.”

He chuckled. “Not unless they’re using acrylic paint and kneaded erasers as a new type of substance abuse.” He let his eyes study her face. “I wanted to see what you do, and where.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be out chasing the bad guys?” she teased.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“I’m not going to answer that without a lawyer present,” she whispered. He grinned. “Is everything okay?” she continued.

“Are
you
okay?” he countered.

She nodded, checking on the students with a quick glance over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m fine. I… I have to get back to the class.”

“I’ll wait,” he said.

“Are you AWOL?” she asked.

Lee grinned at her concern. “If I am, can I get the teacher to give me an excuse?”

She grimaced at his joke. “I’ll be happy to. But you have to work for it.” Carol took his hand and led him into the room. After an initial hesitation, he gave in and stood a bit uncomfortably just behind her as she addressed the class.

“Okay, time’s up. Everyone stop working. Don’t worry what it looks like. Don’t worry if you think it’s not finished. We’re going to move along to something different. Marilyn, thank you very much for coming today.”

The model casually unfolded herself from the chaise lounge, picked up her robe and put it on. The students shifted and broke into conversation, comparing their work and casting curious glances at Lee.

Carol looked at him briefly, to test his reaction so far. “We’re going to change to a new model for the last ten minutes of the class. You’re to sketch him fully clothed—much to his relief.” The class laughed. “He’s… a friend of mine who came to visit. I’m putting him to work.

“With Marilyn you could see the whole shape of her body and how her skin fit over her skeleton underneath. Now I want you to draw Lee so that I can
feel
there’s a flesh-and-bone person underneath the clothing. It’s not as easy as you might think. And to make it more interesting, he has a prop with him today.”

Lee looked around at the students. He felt out of his element, not in charge and the object of intense scrutiny. Which was one of the reasons he enjoyed being with Carol Taggart: she reminded him that the world contained much more than cops and criminals. She made him feel different, introduced him to new experiences. And she was the first woman he’d known in many years who treated him not with contempt, or as a novelty, but as a member of the human race, fallible… but redeemable.

Lee unzipped his jacket and removed it, handing it to Carol. There was no obvious response from the class at the sight of his sidearm, beeper, and handcuffs. She folded the jacket over her arm and held it against her chest.

“Step up and take a pose, Lee. Sit or stand, whichever feels right.”

Lee stepped up on the platform without any idea of what to do. He put his hands in his pockets and looked around, trying to decide if he should sit or not.

“All right, hold it!” Carol suddenly called out to him. “Just stay like that, if you can.” She faced the class. “You can see that Lee carries a gun. Study him carefully for a few seconds. Then you have five minutes to capture what you see. And remember, I don’t want to see anyone using erasers.”

The students began to work.

Lee felt frankly silly trying to stand stone-still, and Carol did nothing to make it easier for him. She moved out of his line of vision, leaving him to face twelve strangers, each of whom was studying him very closely. He made the discomforting observation that in his profession he had a tendency to see people not as individuals but as part of a scene or a crime. He examined people as either suspects or victims. It was impersonal, meant to get the job done. He’d never considered before what other people thought of him. It was both peculiar and uncomfortable to be the object of study and judgment by total strangers.

Lee didn’t move, but he wished he could see Carol. He wanted the assurance of her presence. Meeting Carol had forced him to change. She made him pay attention, and made him accountable.

When he’d first met Beth he’d had to work overtime to get her attention, scheme to get past her reserve, charm her into submission. So, what was he trying to do with Carol? What was he trying to prove?

“Stop drawing…”

A quiet babble started again. The students shifted in their seats, some beginning to put their belongings together. Lee flexed his shoulders and stepped down from the stage. Carol was putting her own things into a canvas tote bag. She came over to him.

“So, how did you like being up there with everyone staring at you?”

“It was hard,” Lee admitted. “I think I’ll keep my day job.”

“Would you like to see what the students thought of you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Carol gathered the class and asked them to display their work. While she talked to them about it, asking questions or making observations, Lee stood at the back of the group, peering between heads and over shoulders to get a glimpse of the sketches. He was both astonished and pleased.

It was a strange sensation to see himself portrayed through someone else’s eyes. One drawing had only the barest outline of his body, with only his face, hands, and holstered automatic sketched in any detail. Another showed only his head, turned at an angle and completely disembodied from the rest of him. Yet another showed an elegantly drawn body, but the face was totally blank.

“Are you a real model or a cop?” asked a lanky young black man, with both daring and suspicion.

Carol answered before Lee could.

“I told you, he’s a friend of mine. He just stopped by to see me, and I dragged him in and put him on display. You don’t need his life story. The question is, Was he a good model?”

The students were split on their opinion.

“He was okay. But we should have had more time,” one of them said.

“Yeah. And next time make him take off his clothes,” an Asian American girl suggested.

The students laughed. Lee found himself almost blushing. The class ended and the students all left.

In another five minutes Lee and Carol had also left the building. The snow continued to fall, accumulating on their shoulders and on Carol’s velvet hat. Lee, as always, was bareheaded. He held her hand as they walked to his car, parked on the street a few blocks from the south campus.

“That was sort of fun,” he admitted. “I wonder if Ricca would like it.”

“You said she likes art. What does she do?”

“She sketches, but she makes up things in her head. I don’t think she’s ever tried to draw people.”

“Maybe she’d like to sit in on one of my Saturday classes for high school kids.”

“I think she might.”

“Well, ask her. We meet at different places around the city, such as the Met or the Cloisters, and set up shop with pads, pencils and ink, and brown-bag lunches. It’s really a lot of fun.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know.”

“Do you think she’ll do it?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll encourage her to. I think it would be good for her to get to know you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it was very good for
me
to get to know you.”

Carol was surprised. “Thank you. That was a nice thing to say.”

“It’s true,” he murmured.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you with my class,” Carol said as they reached his car.

“Embarrass? No. Put on the spot? Yes.”

“You’re not used to that, are you? You’re used to having the odds in your favor.”

Lee dug out his keys. “What’s wrong with that?”

“No room for surprises. No room for new experiences. It’s so predictable.”

He nodded and opened the passenger door for her. “I like predictable.”

“So, what happened with me?”

Her expression was guileless and open, her eyelashes fluttering against the fall of flakes. Her face was a beautiful brown oval against the background of gray sky, bare trees, and white snow. Lee still found it amazing that Carol, of all people, made him introspective, vulnerable yet hopeful against the odds. The more he gained her respect and affection, the more afraid he became of losing them. And her.

Nevertheless, he had a growing belief that with Carol Taggart he could be completely himself, warts and all.

He waited to answer until they were both in the car and he had wiped condensation off the windshield and started the engine, letting it run to warm up. Carol sat, expecting a response. Finally he settled down, sighed, and turned to her. He tried to be honest, though he was aware of the inherent danger in doing so.

“Carol, I don’t know why you. I’ve thought about it a lot. Finally I decided why try to figure it out? It feels good to be with you. I wasn’t looking for you and me to happen, but I’m not going to run away from it. It’s… a little scary.”

“Are you afraid?” Carol asked.

“Not yet. I don’t know if you can understand this, but I’m not a cop when I’m with you. With you, I’m someone different, someone that no one else sees. I like that.”

The warmth in her eyes made her brown face glow and her eyes brighten. She smiled suddenly, with a wicked gleam. “But you’re no girly mon, eh?”

Lee laughed at her island accent. He leaned over and kissed her mouth briefly, rubbing his lips against her smiling mouth. He wanted her warmth and joy to be imprinted on him. Then he grew serious again, staring into her eyes. He was noticing a lot of things about himself that he’d never given thought to before. That had been her doing. He wanted to go with the flow and see where it would lead them.

Carol threaded her fingers with his and pulled on his hand to get his attention again. “I know what you’re up to, Lee.”

“Oh, yeah? What?” he asked cautiously.

“You think you can be my white knight in shining armor.”

He squeezed her hand. “You think that’s what it is?”

“I think you’re being protective. It’s sweet, and I love it.”

That stopped him for a second. He’d never had anyone describe something he’d done as “sweet.”

“Sweet,” he murmured, amused. He changed the subject. “I came to drive you home, but I have a better idea. Why don’t I take you out for dinner? You can tell me about my future as a male model…” She giggled. “And maybe we can discuss your becoming my agent.”

“Hmmm,” Carol considered. “Is this just an excuse to spend time with me?”

He arched a brow, put the car in Drive, and pulled away from the curb. His beeper vibrated, and at the corner he took a moment to read the message and phone number. It was from Karen. “I’m hoping I don’t need an excuse.” He put his beeper away.

She regarded his profile. “You don’t.” After several minutes on the road Carol turned to Lee in curiosity. “Where are we going?”

“To Riverdale.”

“Riverdale. Why there? It’s all the way north.” She gestured out the window.

“It’s where I live,” Lee said smoothly. “I know the neighborhood and there are some nice, quiet restaurants there. And besides… I’m driving.” Finally he glanced briefly at her. “Do you mind?”

Carol guessed that perhaps she should, but she didn’t. Common sense told her that one didn’t have to drive to the Bronx to find a decent restaurant and that in fact, chances were better in her own neighborhood. But that would have been too logical. And that would have shortened the adventure. And that surely would have ruined Lee’s plans.