THE NEPHEW
Chapter Six
April 15
Rose reclined on the living room sofa and
watched the flickering embers in the fireplace. Beside her an art student
rambled endlessly, making an occasional inquiry about the Rosebud Art Studio,
or about one of her films, which she answered without looking at him.
At the opposite end of the room, their host
entertained with a flair. Several local youths, childhood friends of his,
neighbors and quite a few classmates from the university had come to help him
celebrate his twentieth birthday. He drank beer, he told jokes, he played
popular recordings and had Rose join him in a couple of dances. More than one
guest commented that he seemed like a new person.
For all intents and purposes, he was still
John Calvert.
The night before, a night when sleep was out
of the question, Rose had pondered exactly how he'd managed to lure her here.
She'd seen him in the audience at the play; of this she was now certain. But
what had possessed her to join a traveling theater company that performed in
such an unlikely spot as Cedar Rapids, Iowa? And then she remembered: Cedar
Rapids was not originally part of the itinerary.
The director had received a passionate letter
from a theatergoer stating that he'd seen Sense and Sensibility in Los
Angeles, and would love it if they could make Cedar Rapids a stop on their
tour. Rose couldn't recall the letter-writer's name, only that the director had
been greatly moved by it.
Surely John didn't go all the way to
California looking for her...
Rose sneaked a glance at Mrs. Calvert. The
sickly woman was the only one in the house who didn't appear to be enjoying
herself. She rested in a comfortable chair beside the fire, covered from head
to toe in blankets, dozing off and on. The cancer and the heavy doses of
medication it required were wearing her down.
Or perhaps she was a murderess doing penance.
Rose closed her eyes to clear her thoughts.
She must never think about last night again. After all, she was to be married
soon, and the past had to be left in the past so that she could get on with the
future.
When she opened her eyes, John was shaking
his mother awake. "Mama, you're tired. Why don't you turn in for the
night?"
Mrs. Calvert raised her head, and for a
moment Rose imagined she saw pleading in her eyes. "I'm all right. I can
stay up a little longer."
"Mama, I really think you should go to
bed now."
Something in John's voice caused his mother's
hands to tremble, though Rose was the only one who noticed. "Yes,
Jack," Mrs. Calvert said, and allowed her son to help her from the chair.
"Why does she call him Jack?" the
student to Rose's left wondered. "Come to think of it, you've called him
that too, a few times."
John
Jack
overheard. He turned and looked directly at
Rose. Their eyes locked.
"I don't know," she stammered.
"It's a pet name, I think."
Jack grinned at her, and winked.
The End.