JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Thirty-Eight
June 21, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Nadia strolled along the sidewalk towards the
Dawson Films main office, a copy of the screenplay she had been working on in
her hand. In spite of her aspirations to teach, she still enjoyed writing, and
Rose had offered to look over the screenplay she had been writing in her spare
time, and perhaps even buy it from her if she thought she could make a movie
out of it.
She stretched, lifting her face toward the
summer sunlight. It was good to be home. In spite of the absence of her
stepbrother and the presence of her whining younger siblings, it was good to be
back in Cedar Rapids, away from Mississippi and the suspicious looks that some
people still gave her.
Taking the screenplay from its envelope,
Nadia leafed through it, frowning at a couple of scenes in the middle section.
For some reason, they just didn’t seem to work. She was sure that Rose would
help her with them, but she wished that she could figure them out herself.
So intent was she on the stack of papers in
her hand that she didn’t notice the bucket of soapy water in her path, or the
man mopping the floor, until she stumbled over the bucket, knocking it over on
its side and sending the slippery mess across the floor.
Nadia yelped in surprise as her feet flew out
from under her, sending the screenplay flying from her hand. She gave an
undignified grunt as she landed hard on her backside, the papers scattering
beyond her reach, and, fortunately, out of the way of the water.
The man who had been mopping the floor leaned
the mop against the wall and hurried over to Nadia. "Sorry, ma’am. Let me
help you up."
Nadia gave another unladylike grunt as he
helped her stand, forgetting her manners as she rubbed her sore backside
through her wet, soapy skirt. Finally, she wiped her hands on her blouse and
looked at him, then stopped, her mouth hanging open, as she forgot what she was
going to say.
She didn’t usually stare at men, or spend a
great deal of time thinking about them—she had always had other things to think
about, and Mary had always been the one to behave in a silly fashion over some
good-looking boy or man. But for some reason, this man was an exception.
He was taller than her by a good eight inches,
with a face that would have made young girls sigh, had he been in the movies.
His skin was very dark, the color of the rich wood paneling that had been in
the old house, and his strong, white teeth stood out in contrast to his dark
skin. His tightly curled black hair was neatly clipped, and he was
clean-shaven.
Nadia continued to stare for a moment, the
only rational thought in her head the question of why he was mopping the floor
instead of appearing before the camera. Surely Rose would understand the value
of such a handsome face.
"Sam? What’s going on? I heard a
crash." Rose stepped out of her office, wiping her ink-stained fingers on
a piece of ragged cloth.
Nadia was brought abruptly back to the
present by Rose’s voice. Suddenly aware that she had been staring, she closed
her mouth and looked away, face reddening. To think, she’d just been doing what
she had always teased Mary for!
Sam turned to Rose. "Sorry, Mrs.
Calvert. I left the bucket in the middle of the hall, and she tripped over
it…"
"Oh, no." Nadia shook her head.
"I should have been watching where I was going. Here…let me wipe it
up." She turned around, her wet skirt clinging to her legs.
"Mom…where’s the stuff to wipe it up with?"
"Don’t worry about it…uh…Miss Calvert.
I’ll clean it up."
"Oh, no. It was my fault. I’ll clean it
up."
Rose interrupted them. "Sam…since most
of the water would have wound up on the floor anyway, why don’t you just mop it
up and spread it around? It’ll save time and the cost of the soap. Just wipe up
whatever’s left when you’re done, so that no one else slips in it." She
turned to her stepdaughter. "Nadia…what brings you here?"
"I finished that screenplay I’ve been
working on. I wanted to show it to you and get your advice…some parts just
don’t work." She looked around the hallway, where the papers were
scattered. "Oh…what a mess…"
"I’m sure we can put it back together,
Nadia." Rose moved carefully past the spill and began to collect the
scattered papers. "Sam, why don’t you take a break until we have this
sorted out? There’s coffee in the cafeteria right now, if you’d like
some."
"Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Calvert."
Rose glanced at Nadia as she crouched beside
her, picking up papers and trying to put them back in some semblance of order.
A half-smile played at her mouth as she saw Nadia turn her head to watch Sam
walk away.
Nadia had always been an introvert, more
interested in what was going on in her mind than in the outside world, and she
had been leery of men since her experience with her boyfriend at the beginning
of college, who had walked away from her when she was the center of
controversy, then tried to come back when he learned that she had a rich
father. This time, though, it seemed that Nadia had met someone that she
couldn’t quite ignore or disdain, no matter how much she wanted to.