The Virtuous Woman (27 page)

“No! Keep your grubby hands off me!” She examined her reflection in the mirror. “How do you like the dress? I think it’s swell.”

“It’s awful!”

Grace glared at him. “What’s wrong with it? You don’t like anything I pick out.”

“I’ll tell you why it’s awful. In the first place, pink is not a good color for you. With your hair color and your light skin, you need something darker. In the second place, it’s too tight. It makes you look cheap. In the third place, that style was popular several years ago. Now it’s outdated. You want me to go on?”

Grace glared at him. “All right, then. You pick out a dress.”

“That’s what I came for. Now, you just wait a minute.”

Grace had often lost her temper during the “lessons” that she endured with Francis. She had asked him to help her with her clothes, with her speech, and with her manners, and he had only agreed after making her promise to do what he said and to take his word for things. As much as she wanted his help, it was hard work changing habits developed over her whole life. She had been willing enough as far as grammar and speech and manners, but the matter of clothes was another thing. She watched as he moved up and down the racks and selected a dress.

“Go put this on.”

Grace snatched it and went back into the dressing room. She took off the offensive dress, slipped this one on, and looked at herself in the mirror. A smile came to her face.
“Well, I’ll be dipped! The runt does know something about clothes.”

She went out and Francis smiled. “Now, that dress has class.”

The emerald green dress was made of silk gauze with a round neckline edged in black. It had loose three-quarter-length pointed sleeves, an ankle-length skirt, and a matching sash trimmed in black.

“It costs so much,” she said. “We don’t have the money.”

“I’ve been squirreling some away.”

“You can’t spend your money on me.”

“Yes I can. You go get changed and then we’ll pick out some shoes.”

“I’ve got a pair of shoes.”

“You’ve got a pair of motorcycle boots and a pair of sneakers. Don’t argue. Go change your clothes.”

She changed and then they waited at the counter. The saleslady commented, “Your husband has got good taste, ma’am.”

“He’s not my husband. He’s my owner. I’m his slave.”

Francis flushed, but the woman laughed. “He has excellent taste anyway.”

As they left the dress department, Francis said, “Let’s go find you a nice pair of shoes.”

****

“I can’t learn all this stuff, Francis.”

Francis turned the heat down under the gumbo. “Yes you can. Now, tell me again what’s happening in Europe.”

Francis had insisted that Grace learn about current world affairs. He was shocked at how little she knew and had begun buying newspapers and news magazines for her. He gave her assignments every day and the next day grilled her on what she had learned.

“Well,” Grace said, her brow wrinkled, “that man you made me read about, Adolf Hitler, has passed some laws.”

“What’s the name of them?” He started mashing the potatoes.

“Let me see. I forget. Oh yeah, the Nuremberg Laws.”

“And what are the Nuremberg Laws?”

“The paper said they’ve made Jews second-class citizens.”

“And what else?”

“Umm, they’ve made sex between Jews and non-Jews a capital offense. What does that mean?”

“It means the man’s a fanatic. I think he’s the most dangerous man in Europe. Did you read the old magazines I found with the stories about him?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand most of them.”

“Okay, just tell me what you do understand.”

“Okay—in 1933 Hitler was the leader of the Nazi party, and he became chancellor of Germany. And he grabbed all the power.”

“That’s right.” He checked on the crawfish. “Let’s move on to art. Can you name a famous contemporary sculptor?”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “I remember Barbara Hepworth. But her sculptures just look like odd shapes to me.”

“That’s called nonrepresentational sculpture.”

“It just looks strange to me.”

“Well, when somebody talks to you about sculpture, just tell them how great her work is! Now, who’s a top movie star?”

“Fred Astaire.”

“And what’s his latest film?”

“
Top Hat.
I know stuff like that.”

Francis had taken her to see the film, and she had been delighted. “I’m tired of studying. Let me help you with supper.”

“All right. You set the table. It’s almost ready.”

When they sat down to supper, he said, “You ask the blessing.”

“I’m not very good at that, but I’ll try.” They bowed their heads, and she asked a simple blessing. When she looked up, her eyes were sparkling. “I never thought I’d be able to do anything like pray in front of anyone. I still don’t do it well.”

“Yes you do. You’re very simple and direct, and I think that’s what God likes.” He picked up his fork. “Tell me how you like this crawfish.”

She took a bite. “I’ve finally gotten used to eating it, but I still say they look like bugs—and I’m not gonna suck the heads.”

“You’ll never be a true Louisianan until you do that.”

“I have learned to love gumbo, so maybe I am a true Louisianan after all.”

He guided the subject back to her studies. “Did you read
Oliver Twist?
”

“Yes, I read it, but it was awful. Why would anybody wanna write about a poor orphan that gets mistreated by everyone?”

“Dickens wrote to entertain, but he also wrote to educate people and change things. You see, he thought if he’d write about the evils that were in his world, people would read about them and do something about them.”

“Did they?”

“A lot of historians say that Dickens changed his world with his books.”

“I’d still rather read a nice love story with a happy ending.”

“You’re an incurable romantic.”

The two now made a ritual out of their mealtimes. Grace used to think mealtimes were simply for eating, but Francis had taught her that it was a good time to talk and had managed to teach her to slow down and stop eating in a feeding frenzy.

After they finished the meal and washed the dishes, they turned on the radio in the living room and then went outside and sat on the porch steps. They listened to the song coming through the open windows. “All right,” Francis said, “name as many of the constellations as you can.”

“Why do I have to do that? They’re pretty, and I like them, but who’s ever going to care whether I know the names of constellations?”

“You never know what you’ll need. That’s what education
is. You learn a lot of stuff that seems useless, like algebra, but sooner or later you use what you have. Now, what do you see?”

“Okay ... there’s Orion ... and Ursa Major and Ursa Minor ... Cassiopeia ...”

After she named about ten constellations, he said, “That’s good. I don’t brag on you much, Grace,” he said with a smile, “but you’re doing well. I’m proud of you.”

Grace felt her face glowing. “Thank you, Francis,” she murmured. “That’s good to hear, but I know I’ve got a long way to go.” She hesitated before going on. “I’m not treating you fairly.”

“Why not? What are you talking about?”

“What about your book? You spend so much time teaching me.”

“Oh, I work on it while you’re at the Green Lantern.”

“How’s it going?”

“Much better. I’ve got most of it done in my head now. Sometimes it’s hard to get it from your head to paper.”

They grew silent and listened as the music came floating out onto the porch.

“Let’s dance,” Grace said.

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Well, I’m a great dancer. Come on.”

She pulled Francis to his feet, and he put his arm around her waist and took her hand. She sang along as they danced to a popular tune. “Hey, you’re not a bad dancer at all.” She was very aware that her face was only a few inches from his. “How are you and Babe getting along?” she asked suddenly.

“That’s ancient history.”

“She still likes you, though. I can tell.”

“I like her too.”

“Were you going to marry her once?”

“We never talked about it.” He seemed hesitant and then finally said, “She was the first woman—and the last—that I ever knew well. She had a lot more experience than I had with relationships. We fought all the time.”

She was curious and wanted to ask him more, but a slower song began and she decided to let her question wait for another time.

“Grace,” he said suddenly, “I’m afraid I’m going to do something you won’t like.”

They stopped dancing, but he was still holding her in his arms. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kiss you, so you’d better slap my face now and get it over with.”

Grace smiled. “Why don’t you just do it and we’ll see what I do.”

He pulled her closer, and she put her arms around his neck. She had wondered how he felt about her, and now to her pleased surprise, she felt a possessiveness about him. She held his kiss for a time and then pulled away. “Is this where I slap your face?”

“I guess so.”

“I don’t think I will this time. No harm in a little kiss.”

“You know, Grace, there’s a sweetness in you. I’ve always sensed it there, but now I think everyone can see it.”

She did not answer, for memories of her sordid past welled up in her mind. She thought of the awful things she had done—the drunken parties and the men—and she felt terrible. “I guess I’ll go in now,” she said quickly.

“But it’s early yet. I thought we could work some more on your lessons.”

“Not tonight.” She went inside, leaving Francis bewildered.
Maybe it’s something I’ve done.

Grace went to her room and lay down on the bed fully dressed. She struggled with her memories of life on the road with the carnival.
I wish I had been different. I wish I hadn’t done all those things.
She lay there for a long time feeling worse and worse, and finally she told herself heavily, “I can’t go back and change the past.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lucy’s Reluctance

Babe looked up from her desk, which was cluttered with papers. Her green eyes took in Lucy as she entered the office. “What are you all geared up for?”

Lucy flushed. She was wearing a pair of light blue slacks with a tan blouse, and her hair was tied back with a dark blue ribbon. “Kev is going to take me up for a flight.”

Babe leaned back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and studied Lucy silently. She had always been overly protective of her younger sister, whom she had practically raised after the death of their parents. She had guided Lucy through measles, acne, and all the other perils of childhood and adolescence—including the heartbreaking loss of a boyfriend with flaming red hair at the age of thirteen. She remembered what her last mechanic had said about Lucy:
“That sister of yours is a looker. You better be careful some sneaky fella don’t snatch her away when you’re not lookin’!”

Fortunately for Babe, Lucy had never given her the slightest reason for worry. She always seemed to have a built-in desire to do the right thing, and although Babe herself was not religious, she was glad that Lucy walked the straight and narrow—she was even baptized and went to church every Sunday.

“Seems like you’ve been making quite a few of these flights lately.”

Color touched Lucy’s cheeks, but she held her head up almost defiantly. “Maybe I have,” she said.

“You never liked to fly with me all that much. You’re not getting sweet on scarface, are you?”

“Don’t you call him that!”

Babe started at Lucy’s sharp reply. “What’s going on between you two?”

Upset, Lucy ran her hand across her hair. “I think you’re awful! Kevin’s had enough trouble with people. They stare at him all the time. I’d like to poke their eyes out!”

“Take it easy, little sister!”

“I
won’t
take it easy, and don’t you ever call him that awful name again! You hear me?”

Babe was shocked at Lucy’s rare outburst. “You’re right,” she admitted. “It’s bad enough without people making remarks.” She rose from her desk and put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Are you really serious about this guy, Lucy?”

“I ... I like him a lot. He’s the most gentle man I’ve ever known, and he’s got such a good sense of humor. He keeps it hidden because he’s been hurt so much by people. But I have a better time with him than I’ve ever had with anyone else.”

“Does he ever try to get fresh with you?”

“No!”

“Well, that’s a good thing. The way you’ve softened up to him, I believe he could get anything he wants from you.”

Lucy colored, then said firmly, “He’s never been anything but a gentleman with me, Babe.”

Babe felt a sharp pang in her gut, and she drew her lips together into a straight line. “I should’ve met a few guys like that—or at least
one.
”

“You like Kevin, don’t you, Babe?” Lucy asked quickly.

“Sure I like him, and he’s a good pilot too.” She smiled and said, “Don’t get to liking him too much, though. I understand he comes from a rich family, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, the Winslows are well off.”

“Sure, and rich people are all alike. They don’t want their baby boys marrying up with women like us.”

“Kevin’s not that way.”

“Maybe he’s not, but what about his parents?”

“From what he’s told me, they’re very sweet.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Kevin opened the door. “Interrupting anything?” he asked cheerfully. He was wearing his usual flying outfit: leather jacket, tan slacks, and a pair of well-worn soft brown shoes.

“No,” Lucy said almost breathlessly. “Is the plane ready?”

“All juiced up and ready to go.”

Lucy went out the door with Kevin, who waved cheerfully at Babe.

She called caustically, “Don’t wreck the plane—or my baby sister!”

“I’ll be careful with both. Don’t worry, Babe.”

As the two stepped outside, Kevin asked, “What’s the matter with Babe? She forgot to cuss me out. Were you two having a serious discussion?”