Chapter 16

Carolyn and Val had not spoken for a long, comfortable time. In the water between their rafts Val’s fingers slowly traced the entire shape of Carolyn’s hand, front and back, between her fingers, over her fingernails. Val’s eyes were closed; her face, turned toward Carolyn, was still and peaceful.

Carolyn studied the wide forehead, the thick dark eyebrows and lashes, the generous beak of nose with its slightly flared nostrils, the full mouth. Most people, Carolyn reflected, would say that the sensual mouth was her best feature, and it might well be her own favorite. The lips were expressive, like the big soft hand which held hers. She loved Val’s hands, hands that were always confident and sure, whether they were stacking dishes or folding clothes, stretching canvas or constructing frames, delicately cleaning brushes or sketching in one of the numerous pads Val kept in easy reach around the house. Val had not allowed her to see those hands in the actual process of painting: “Carrie, I can’t have you see my unfinished work…”

Carolyn took her hand out of Val’s to turn over onto her back, luxuriating in the sun as the raft floated out of the shady end of the pool. Feeling a strong sense of well-being, she stretched, gazing down at herself in satisfaction. Tanned to deep gold, she felt buoyant pleasure in her body, a recent and altogether new pride. Wanting Val’s hand again, to feel its large softness enclosing her, she reached to her. For some time longer she dozed, aware only of the soothing drone of an aircraft, and the hand that clasped hers. She opened her eyes to see Val looking at her.

Val smiled. “Your hair’s growing.”

“Is it too long yet?”

“Not nearly.” Val released Carolyn’s hand and shook water from her own before picking up a strand. “There’s more curl on the ends now. You’re young, you should look young. Don’t be in such a hurry to catch up to Paul, to anyone around you.” She rolled the strand in her fingers. “Your hair’s the color of drying sand.”

Val rarely commented on her appearance, and Carolyn was reluctant to let the moment go. She murmured, “Wet sand doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Not wet sand, drying sand. Meaning sand with sun on it. It’s a color so difficult to get right…”

They floated in silence again. But Val’s fingers continued to move slowly in Carolyn’s hair. Carolyn said lazily, eyes closed again, “Neal’s so excited about the Olympics.”

Val chuckled. “We’ll see two events. I’m taking him to the women’s marathon, he’s taking me to the men’s. The price for both is exactly right—free.” Still chuckling, she propelled their rafts to the shallow end of the pool. “Will you be over tonight, Carrie?”

“Sure thing.”

Paul arrived home on time—an unusual occurrence—and after kissing her, placed his briefcase ceremoniously on the sofa. “Let me get our drinks, Princess. We have something to celebrate. I have a wonderful surprise, I’ve been working on it all day…”

She arrived at Val’s at eight-thirty. “I couldn’t come any sooner,” she said disconsolately, walking into the tiny cluttered living room. “Where’s Neal?”

“At the corner buying milk. We ran out.” She was frowning at the package in Carolyn’s hands. “Not something else for him.”

“Just another puzzle—”

“On top of the one the both of you are putting together, on top of the Monopoly game you bought last week, and the baseball glove, the airplane assembly kit—”

“Oh stop.” She was moving around the house in her agitation, picking up newspapers, tidying.

“You stop. Friends do not come to my house and clean. What’s gotten into you?”

Carolyn dropped the newspapers she had gathered up. “Oh God, Val, I’ve got to go to the Bahamas.”

Val threw back her head and laughed. “Let me get you an aspirin.”

“I don’t want to go,” Carolyn said vehemently. “I don’t feel like going. But if you could’ve seen him. A whole briefcase loaded with brochures. He’s planned everything—hotels, side trips, a night in Miami, even our clothes. He called my boss to make sure I could take the time off.”

Val was grinning. “So, when do you go?”

“Friday!”

“Friday?”

Carolyn flung herself down on the sofa. “I can’t stay over here very long, he’ll be too hurt. He’s like a little boy over this trip.” She admitted sheepishly, “I couldn’t have come over at all except I told him I wanted to brag a little.” She saw a gratifying soberness on Val’s face.

“How can you leave Friday?” Val said. “That’s when the Olympics begin. How could he—”

“His travel agency told him they have all kinds of space on flights out of L.A. People aren’t flocking into town nearly like anyone expected. And we’re going to some island, I don’t remember the name, it’s not as big a tourist draw as Nassau. The only problem was the hotel in Miami, but he has a business connection down there, so—”

“Hi, Carolyn!” Neal slammed the door in his exuberance, gave his paper bag to his mother, and hugged Carolyn. “Where’ve you been? Hey, is this a present for me? Did Ma tell you we saw the Olympic torch?”

“Yes,” Carolyn said, hugging him back, “but tell me all about it anyway; she probably left out something good.” She grinned at Val, happy to be here.

Val smiled. “Carrie, stay a few more minutes,” she coaxed. “He’ll soon have you all to himself.”

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 519