The Convent Rose (The Roses) (6 page)

“Standing dead still in the road during Art Walk is not allowed. You must stroll, stroll!”

“Looks good for a woman over thirty, don’t she?” Bodey asked, still staring at Eve Burns who had gotten up to hand maps to people coming down her side of the street.

“Well, Eve doesn’t have much mileage on her,” Noreen huffed.

She still retained some of the weight from her second pregnancy, especially in the hips, Bodey noticed. Rusty, bless his heart, didn’t seem to care Noreen was no cover girl.

“So, you want to walk along with us, Bodey, before you make a fool out of yourself?”

“I’ll have you know I have been invited to stroll with Eve. Her idea.”

“Oh, I don’t see this working out.” Noreen shook her head. “Eve is kind of ethereal, and you’re—well...”

“A cowboy?”

“I was going to say earthy.”

“You know, Noreen, you married a cowboy, and I know for a fact he’s a great husband and father.”

“I married a hard-working cattleman, not the King of the Rodeo.”

“Rusty could have been king, or maybe just the prince, if he’d stayed on the circuit with me.”

“Heaven forbid that I wanted my man in one piece and not all broken up! Good luck with Eve or rather for Eve, God bless her.” Noreen gave her husband the eye to move along since people now parted to get around their obstruction to traffic. Bodey was half way across the street and heading for the pale blonde artist.

“Eve, you look sensational.” Bodey clasped both of her hands even though he crushed the map she held in one of them.

“Thank you. It’s Ja’nae’s dress and a little short on me.” Color moved across her cheek bones.

“She loan you the necklace, too?” He was about to make a joke about its crudeness when she answered.

“No, a friend gave it to me. It’s smoky quartz. He said the stones matched my eyes.”

“I don’t see that. Your eyes are much lighter, beautiful, but lighter.”

“Evidently, they darken sometimes.” The color spread over her face now.

“I’ll bet they do. I’d like to see that.”

“Let’s just walk around a little. Then, I should come back here. People like to talk to the artists. Not much gets sold at an art walk, but sometimes you pick up a commission or customers call you later.”

They moved along the Café side of the road, Eve introducing him to various artists as they ducked in and out of the pretty, pastel houses until the town petered out into country. Eve’s house stood in the distance. They crossed the street and Eve introduced him to still more artists. The couple paused at a potter’s stand to watch children making animals from some kind of bright, plastic clay. A girl about Jesse’s age seemed to be supervising and giving artistic suggestions.

A woman in a denim jumper covered by a brown canvas apron worked the potter’s wheel. Her hairy ankles showed between the hem of her dress and her Doc Marten shoes. She finished bullying the clay into the form of a pitcher, neatly forming the spout with a thumb and attaching a handle with slip.

“Hi, Eve, how’s it going up at the other end of town?” she asked while removing the pitcher from the wheel with a string drawn across its base.

“Good turnout, Stella. At least, my icon note cards are selling. Any sales here?”

“Doing good,” a big-boned woman with short, chopped off black hair answered. “Gaea keeps the kids busy so the parents have time to browse. It works. We’re nearly out of gumbo bowls, and candlesticks are going well. Check out this new blue glaze Stella is using.”

“That’s really lovely, June.”

“Would you like a pair of those candlesticks?” Bodey reached for his wallet.

“Not necessary, really.”

“Don’t kill the sale, Eve. Finally, a man with exquisite taste—who’s not gay,” June said in a stage whisper. “Pick out the ones you want.”

“Two of the big, forty-dollar blue ones.” Bodey pointed to the pottery he wanted.

“Hang on to him, Eve. Most guys won’t go more than twenty for candlesticks, even big ones.” June and Stella laughed at some private joke.

As soon as he took the bag with the candlesticks well wrapped in newspaper, Bodey regretted going for the big ones. They’d be mighty heavy to lug around all night. He slung the sack over one arm as they moved on. Maybe Eve would be impressed by his manly endurance.

“Interesting couple.”

“June and Stella are okay. They’ve been together a long time. Gaea is their daughter. Sometimes, I pity the kid. They tease her in school about having two mothers. At least, she is accepted here in town by the arts crowd.”

“I don’t even want to know how they got a daughter. Yeah, I remember when most of these houses belonged to old, black folks, the children all gone off to find work elsewhere. Looks better now, but seems strange.”

“As the old people died off, a smart contractor bought up the houses, did lots of inside renovations, and still got four times the price for each one. Not too many people want to live this far out, though, so he courted the artists and writers who come here on retreats or to give art lessons on the Academy grounds. Voila, instant art colony. As one of the first artists to live here permanently, it’s been nice to have all this creative energy around me. I have good friends here.”

“So you gave up wantin’ to be a nun?”

“Who told you that?” Eve stopped dead in the street.

“Seeing as how you’re walkin’ so far away from me, I figured you might still entertain the notion.”

“I failed the qualifications to make nun and that left art.”

“Tell me how that happened, darlin’. I truly want to know.”

“It’s not what you think. My dad’s business went bankrupt my senior year at the Academy. Then, he disappeared, supposedly drowned. We had a long hassle getting the insurance company to pay up. The nuns gave me a scholarship to finish out the year at Mt. Carmel, but there was no money for college. Dad’s creditors took everything. Mother lived off her alimony and her friends, had no job, no medical insurance after Daddy died.”

Eve broke her narrative for a minute as they walked along, Bodey moving ever closer to her side. “I think most of the girls who go to school here think about becoming nuns at some time or other. After my father died, I suddenly found I had a vocation. When I told Sr. Helen who taught me art that I wanted to join her order, she said the convent was not a place to hide from problems. I should go on to higher education, hone my talents, and then if I still felt that I had a vocation, she would assist me. Sr. Helen got me a scholarship to the Houston School of Art. I took out student loans, waitressed for other expenses. Then, Mother got sick. She sold the big house in Lafayette and rented an apartment in Houston to be near MD Anderson hospital for her treatments. She insisted I move in with her to save money.”

“That sort of puts the kibosh on any kind of social life,” Bodey said, sympathetically steering her in the direction he wanted to go.

“Tell me about it. There was this guy.”

“Knew it.” He placed his arm lightly around Eve’s waist. So deep in the past, she hardly noticed.

“Evan Adams, tall, dark, and talented. For a while, they called us Adams and Eve around campus. We were always together. I thought we were in love. He was a year older, wanted to graduate and move to the West Coast where his style of art would be more appreciated.”

“Let me guess—abstracts.”

“And moving metal installations based on his art. Really, he had a great deal of talent. I had a dying mother and a ton of debt. He moved. I stayed. After Mother passed away, I came back here where I was happiest. I set up my studio. I teach art and riding. I wait tables. I work on the debts.”

“No more urges to become a nun?” He tightened his grip on her waist just a little. He didn’t want to spook her.

“I couldn’t exactly offer up my virginity any more, now could I?”

“But I’ll bet you’re chaste. You ooze chastity.”

“I believe in being honest right at the beginning of a relationship. Poor men faint and rich men run when they know I need money.”

“I’m thinkin’ you don’t do it right. Lots of rich men would pay off your debts for—”

“Yes, that’s another one of my problems.”

“We all got problems, honey. Another thing we have in common, we’re both alone in the world now.”

“Ja’nae told me. I feel badly about your mother. I think my dad sold her that Jaguar just before he went under.”

“The oil bust took a lot of businesses down. Big Ben cut his losses, got rid of his racehorses, moved back to Texas, and lived off his stocks for a while. He said oil would come back, and it did, but there is no sense in your feelin’ bad about my mama. Your dad didn’t force her to have a three martini lunch at the club with her friends, then try to pass a cattle truck on a curve on her way home. She went into the other lane, swung wide, and barely missed a van full of kids. She was going ninety when she hit the culvert. Instant death.”

Eve’s arm moved around his waist. They bumped hips as she gave him an understanding squeeze. With all the talk, they had skipped most of the remaining exhibits and ended up at the end of the street where the Academy grounds began. Eve dropped her arm and started to pull away.

“I should get back to the café now. The buyers might be lining up without my knowing it.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sure, we need to go back and put a red dot on that landscape I want.”

“You know about red dots?”

“I told you I buy art. It means sold.” He kept his arm just where it was and turned back toward the Rainbow Café.

“Would you look at what’s up ahead?” Bodey said to distract her from moving aside.

Two men, arm in arm, wearing cream-colored suits and straw hats, sauntered down Main Street. With matching walking sticks, they pointed out works of art. Evidently, their remarks were amusing because they laughed at each other’s wit.

“Gives a whole new meaning to the word Rainbow, don’t it?” Bodey whispered.

Eve tried not to smile. “That’s Archie and Roger from Lafayette. They come to make fun of the boondock artists, as they call us. Archie does sculptures that always look like phallic symbols to me, and Roger paints naked men in acrylics.”

“Figures.” Bodey and Eve passed the couple. Eve gave them a friendly wave. Bodey studied Archie’s florid face and round form, Roger’s trimmed mustache and shaped eyebrows. He nodded and kept moving.

“They give me the willies more than the lesbians at the other end of the street. Lesbians I can understand. Who wouldn’t want to do it with a woman—but them!”

“Oh, don’t be so homophobic, cowboy.”

“Believe me it has nothing to do with being a cowboy.”

They arrived at the café, and Eve went to get the red dot from the gift shop at Bodey’s urging. He sat at a table nearby to write out a check. Archie and Roger floated in and moved from picture to picture.

As they passed Bodey, he overheard Archie say, “Poor Eve, still doing her little landscapes. She really should move on and try something new.”

“You know I promised Mama one of her icons for a birthday gift. She wants a Virgin and Child. I might as well get it tonight. The checkbook, Archie,” Roger commanded as he held out a hand.

“Why do people want icons? They are so stiff, so identical. They leave no room for artistic expression. Your naked Angel Gabriel is so much more expressive. Now that was a form to be worshiped!” The two men twittered.

Bodey stood as Eve came forward to place the red dot. “Here you go—a check for five hundred dollars. The way you done that sky just takes me home. It’s worth the extra.”

“I told you two-fifty. If you want to pay more, the one over there would make a nice complement. They depict sunrise and sunset over the same location. Or I could paint something to order,” Eve insisted.

“Oh, take the money from this luscious man, dear,” Roger chimed in. “I’d so like to paint your friend, Eve.”

Roger held out a moist, long-fingered hand. Bodey shook it briefly, then folded his arms across his chest.

“Great scar.” Roger fingered the small crescent in Bodey’s cheek and drew a fingernail down to the cleft in his chin. “Nice chin and wonderful hint of five o’clock shadow. I’ll bet you have interesting scars in other places.”

He stared at Bodey’s crotch. In Texas, Bodey would have hit the man by now, but Eve was watching his reaction. He didn’t want to be homophobic in front of Eve who probably had lots of queer friends.

Instead, he stepped back a little behind Eve. “Too late, Eve is going to paint me for the rest of that five-hundred dollars, and I might even take some lessons from her since I admire her technique so much.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind—my card.” Roger placed it in his hand. “And this is for you, Eve, a check. Archie and I will pick out one of the smaller icons for my mother. Come, Archie.” They walked off grandly twirling their canes.

Looking at the two checks, Eve said, “Between this and the sale of ten packs of note cards, I’ve made my rent and have some to spare. It’s been a good evening. Want to watch the fireworks before we go our separate ways?”

“Nothin’ I’d enjoy more than doing fireworks with you. But why separate?”

“It’s late. I’m tired.”

“Used that one before, darlin’. How about I’m nervous and scared?”

“Are you? I wouldn’t have thought a man of your overwhelming masculinity would be nervous or scared.”

“So, you noticed my overwhelming masculinity, did you?”

They arrived at the barricades set across an empty lot where a crowd gathered in the twilight. A person who appeared to be June of the pottery stand, ran with a lighter down a row of rather ordinary fireworks that could be purchased at any roadside stand around the Fourth of July, but set off all together, they made a nice display. As soon as one row finished, another row began. This might have been the middle of March and not Independence Day, but the audience oohed and aahed just the same.

In the sudden silence when the fireworks ended making the night seem twice as dark, Bodey took off his hat, swept an arm around Eve and gave her a kiss he hoped made her toes tingle because he sure felt it at the base of his groin. The moment was perfect until someone goosed his rear, and he smacked his body against Eve’s thin dress. No doubt she felt the length of his longing.