Vivid (8 page)

"Are storms always this way,
Magic?" Vivid yelled above the noise.

"Oh, this is a big one, but wait till
it gets hot in the summer. Then you'll see some big storms."

Vivid shook her head, still unable to
comprehend the child's fascination. Vivid liked storms also, but she'd never
experienced such violent weather. But if she planned on being the doctor here,
she'd have to accustom herself to such episodes. Not all medical emergencies
happened on bright, sunny days.

She looked up to see Grayson watching her.
Their eyes held. Vivid felt something touch her from within the distant gaze,
then he turned away.

A few moments later, the storm passed as
swiftly as it had appeared, leaving behind a soft rain and a cool breeze.

The wagon was stuck in the mud. Grayson
jumped down from the seat and called to his daughter standing next to Vivid in
the doorway of the shack. "Majestic, come take the reins."

Magic ran through the mud out to the wagon
and scrambled aboard. Her father went around to the back to push. Vivid was
smiling as she watched him slog through the slop until he turned her way and
said, "Doctor, you either help push or walk. Your choice."

Vivid wondered how he'd feel about having
two
bullet holes in that old beat-up hat of his instead of one. She had
absolutely no desire to traverse that mud, but rather than be judged unfit, she
started toward the wagon. She gasped as the cold mud swallowed her shoes. Her
stricken face met his amused eyes. She slogged through the mud just as he had,
although she was certain he hadn't mourned the loss of an expensive pair of
shoes during the journey. She did her best to hold her skirts up from the muck
but the going was slow at best.

"Now while Magic reins the team,
we'll push," he told her.

In tandem with Grayson, Vivid gave it all
she had. It took three tries to free the wheels enough for the horses to gain
leverage. When the wheels finally came free, the sudden movement made Vivid
lose her balance and land face first in the mud. Grayson's uproarious laughter
gave her a sense of how she must look. She stood up, wiped the mud from her
eyes, and looked down at her beautiful ruined dress. The snow-white blouse with
its hand-done lace and mother-of-pearl buttons looked as if it had been doused
in gravy. The traveling dress her aunt had sent her from Mexico would never be
emerald-green again. Grayson was still laughing, and so was Magic, the traitor.

"If we're finished, may we go
now?" she asked haughtily.

"Sure," Nate told her, but he
couldn't stop laughing. Vivid gave him a blistering look and climbed into the
wagon.

Some time later a shocked Abigail Grayson
met them at the door. "Oh, my dear Dr. Lancaster, look at you. What
happened?"

Magic piped up, "She fell in the mud,
Aunt Gail. I thought Pa was going to bust a gut laughing so hard."

"Nathaniel!" his aunt said
scoldingly.

"Don't 'Nathaniel' me, Abigail
I'm-gone-to-Kalamazoo Grayson. You have some explaining to do."

Had Vivid not been so wet and chilled
she'd have laughed at the look of feigned innocence on Abigail's face as she
replied, "Why, I've no idea what you mean."

"I'll bet you don't," Nate said,
smiling.

Abigail smiled back, then said, "Dr.
Lancaster, come on in here where we can get you dry. Nate, bring in some water
for her. Magic, change out of those wet things and set the table."

Abigail Grayson was nearly as tall as her
nephew and had the same smoke-black eyes. She leaned on a cane and moved as
proudly as if she were royal-born. She steered Vivid through the well-furnished
front room of the very large house and back to the kitchen.

"There's biscuits in the oven. I'm
sure they won't mind you stealing a little of their heat."

A shivering Vivid warmed her hands near
the warm metal.

Moments later, Nate reentered from the
back of the house carrying a huge cauldron of water. From beneath her lashes
Vivid watched his arms strain with the weight as he set it atop the stove, the
corded muscles as beautifully detailed as an anatomy drawing. Vivid forced her
attention back to Abigail, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Grayson, what did you
say?"

"It's Miss Grayson, Dr., and I asked
if you wanted some tea."

"Oh, yes, please. Anything to cut
these shivers."

Abigail handed her a cup. The warmth
against Vivid's hands made her smile and purr, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, and once you finish
I'll show you where you can wash up and change. Then you can tell me about the
fit Nate threw when he found out you weren't a man."

Shocked, Vivid turned to Nate, who said,
"Told you I knew nothing about that contract. But later my beloved aunt is
going to tell me how she accomplished that not-so-small feat."

"Nathaniel, if I tell you, it won't
work the next time."

His eyes narrowed.

Abigail said, "Oh, all right, maybe
there won't be a next time."

Vivid smiled. Yes, she liked the Grayson
women.

Nate looked from aunt to doctor, shook his
head, and said, "I'm going to wash up and change."

Dinner that night was glorious. Vivid sat
at the table in a fresh clean skirt and blouse and knew that her mother would
have been appalled at the amount of food she had just consumed. Her mother
believed that a lady never ate more than a nibble of this and a dabble of that,
but Vivid had always had a healthy appetite, and as long as one didn't display
the table manners of a cretin, she didn't feel it necessary to apologize for
enjoying well-prepared food. Besides, she'd been eating train and coach meals
for what seemed like months. She was close to starving.

"There's more turkey, Dr.
Lancaster."

"I can't eat another bite, Abigail. Thank
you."

Vivid could feel Nate Grayson watching her
so she turned to him. "Yes?"

"Just wondering where you put all
that food, Lancaster."

Vivid felt embarrassment stroke her
cheeks.

Abigail smiled over her teacup and said,
“Behave," to her nephew.

Vivid made it a point to ignore Grayson
for the remainder of dinner. He seemed content to let her be, though on more
than one occasion Vivid looked up to find herself under his speculative
scrutiny.

When the conversation dwindled to a close,
Vivid could not hide the large yawn that escaped her. She was tired, but the
excitement of this new adventure made her want the day to continue. Abigail had
other ideas. "Nate, take her over to the doc's place and make sure she
gets settled in. Magic, you go on, too, and help the doctor unpack what she
needs for the night."

"That really isn't necessary,"
Vivid offered. "If you point me in the right direction, I can find
it."

"Nope. Nate, go with her. Take Magic.
I'll be over after I clean up here."

Abigail steadfastly refused Vivid's offer
to help with the dishes. "Young woman, you can barely stand. Get on over
to the house before you fall asleep on your feet and Nate has to carry
you."

That got Vivid moving.

The little house she would be occupying
was set in back of the main house. The land surrounding it had been cleared for
acres around. She could only imagine how long it must have taken the Grayson
ancestors to carve out this small paradise.

"How long has your family been here,
Mr. Grayson?"

"Since '37," Magic answered for
him. "Pa Grayson got freed and came here all the way from Carolina."

"Did he come alone?" Vivid asked
her.

"No, there were thirty-four people.
They came here and founded Grayson Grove. Do you have a family, Dr.
Lancaster?"

“Yes, I have parents and two older
sisters. Jessica and Alicea."

They stepped onto the wooden porch and
Grayson opened the door and held it aside for the ladies to enter. The front
room was small, consisting of a blanket-covered cot against one wall and a
small desk and chair against another.

"This is where Doc saw his patients
till he got drunk and fell off the roof of the Emporium and died," Magic
volunteered.

Vivid stared. Grayson offered nothing but
a stern look in his daughter's direction.

In the back there were three more rooms: a
bedroom, a kitchen, and a room equipped for surgery.

"How many people are in your
community?"

"Almost three hundred if you also
count the Black folks in Casapolis and Calvin Center."

"Spread out over how many
miles?"

"Most are within a few, some as far
away as ten, twenty. Why?"

"Because I need to meet everyone, get
their names, ages, medical histories."

She saw the odd look on Grayson's face and
asked, "Is something wrong, Mr. Grayson?"

"Doc never did that."

"I'm not Doc," she said with a
smile. She then turned to his daughter. "Magic, why don't you help me
unpack?”

Since the bulk of Vivid's belongings were
still at the station, it only took Vivid and Magic a few moments to transfer
the clothing and toiletries into a big Saratoga trunk sent over by Abigail. When
the job was done, Magic headed back to the house, leaving Vivid alone with Nate
Grayson.

"I still believe you'll leave before
the worst of the winter," he said, his powerful-looking arms folded across
his chest.

"I do enjoy a challenge, so I'm
determined to prove you wrong."

"What else do you enjoy?"

The tone of his voice made Vivid hesitate.
He seemed to want to know something more than just her leisure activities.
"I enjoy poker, playing billiards—"

"Billiards," he echoed
skeptically. He looked over at the case that held her stick.

"Yes. You're familiar with the game?
You lean over a big table that has holes in the corners—"

"I know how to play, Lancaster,"
he said in exasperated amusement. "But what's a woman like you doing
playing billiards? What did your parents think about this pastime of
yours?"

“My father taught it to me when I was
seven or eight. He says I have a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes, Mr. Grayson. Women can be
gifted in other things besides hat choosing."

"Wait," he said, holding up his
hands. "Let me get a seat. I want to hear all of this." He pulled out
the chair, turned it around, and settled his big body in it. "Now, you say
you have a gift for billiards, according to your father. What about your
mother? Does she think you're gifted, too?"

He was laughing at her, and Vivid narrowed
her eyes at his tone. Would this man ever take her seriously? "No, my
mother thought my gifts were limited to getting into trouble. She nicknamed me
Trabrasera."

"Which means?"

"Trouble."

"So that's what's wrong with my
Magic. She's gifted."

"She does remind me a lot of myself
at her age."

"Lord help us," he whispered.
"Go on. Where did you play billiards? Because no self-respecting woman I
know would even walk past an establishment of that type, let alone go inside one."

Vivid ignored his intimation that she was
not respectable. "I played wherever there was a table. My father is one of
the best chefs and caterers in San Francisco, but when he was younger he cooked
in all types of places—brothels, men's clubs, mansions. Sometimes my
sisters and I had to go along when Mama had to help him in the kitchen. Most of
those places had billiard tables. While my parents and the rest of the staff
people were in the kitchen setting up before the evening's activities, my
sisters and I were encouraged to play, mostly so we'd stay out of the workers'
hair. At night we weren't allowed near the places, but by the time I reached
adolescence, a lot of the gamblers and club owners knew of my penchant for
playing, and I became like a favorite pet. A woman playing billiards was and is
quite an oddity."

"Your sisters play billiards,
too?"

"Not as well as I, but yes, they
play."

"And your father encouraged
this?"

"He never believed in keeping us from
anything we enjoyed, and he saw no harm in it." She paused for a moment
and then said, "You know, men can be such fools sometimes. They see a
woman with a cue in her hand and for some reason believe she must be using it
to take pots off a stove. Men would bet me outrageous amounts of money and
stand agape when they realized I could play. My mother threatened to send me to
a Mexican convent when she found out how much money I had accumulated."

Dumfounded, Nate could only stare.

"You look so stunned, Mr.
Grayson."

"And that is also how you learned to
play poker, too, I take it."

"Yes. I'm not as good at cards as I
am with a cue, but I play a decent hand."

"What other vices do you
practice?"

"Well, let's see. I've thrown dice
and darts. I play faro and keno. I was a pickpocket for about an hour when I was
ten."