Vivid (12 page)

Vivid waked to the porch with him.

"I'll see you when I return from
Kalamazoo," he said. With a polite inclination of his head, he was gone.

Vivid didn't spend much time mulling over
Eli's startling revelation. She knew how Nate Grayson felt about her, and she
had no doubt Eli was wrong in his assumption.

A
fter dinner that evening, Vivid helped Abigail with the dishes,
then crossed the grassy field back to her cabin. Once inside she looked around
her new home proudly. The furniture had improved the overall look of the small
place, as had the addition of Jess's paintings. Vivid thought about her sisters
as she bent over a full crate she'd been saving to unpack last. She searched
through the special odds and ends and unearthed the small square item she'd
been after. She drew back the protective flannel cloth and stared into the
smiling eyes of her sisters positioned on either side of her in the small
pewter-framed portrait. Vivid had been eight years old when her mother had the
portrait commissioned. Alicea, the eldest, had been twelve, and Jessica, ten.
They were all dressed in their Sunday best, and to this day Vivid remembered
how hard it had been for her to stand still for the initial sketch rendering.
Alicea had tried to appear solemn, while Jess, who'd always looked the most
like Mama, posed as regally as a queen. Between them stood Vivid, smiling. This
portrait had been one of the many on Vivid's nightstand at home and now she set
it on the dresser in her small room. As she went back to unpack her other
keepsakes and mementos, she vowed to write to Alicea in Boston and Jess in
Liberia as soon as she could. She and her sisters were very close and although
they'd nicknamed her La Brat Trabrasera when they were younger, and sometimes
even now addressed their letters to that moniker, she missed their loving
teasing very much.

Nate turned the wagon into the tree-lined
drive leading to the back of the Grayson house. He could see light glowing
through Lancaster's screened front door. On any other night, he'd go straight
to the barn after coming home so late, but tonight he wanted to stop and see
her first.

As he'd expected, word about the morning
brawl in her front yard had already spread through the Grove. Everywhere he'd
gone today, men stopped him to ask if she was really as beautiful as reported.
He'd tried to avoid answering, saying each man would have to form his own
opinion, but they refused to be put off. He finally had to admit that, yes, her
dark beauty was unrivaled. He didn't tell them she was also opinionated,
arrogant, and far too accustomed to having her way; he figured they'd find out
soon enough on their own. He did inform them of her staunch refusal to be
courted, but they simply laughed and accused Nate of trying to keep her for
himself.

Nate stopped the wagon, walked to her
door, and knocked.

Vivid set aside her broom and wiped her
dusty hands on the apron tied at her waist as she went to the door. Her actions
slowed when she saw Nate Grayson standing on the porch against the night.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Vivid pushed the door open. “Of course,
Mr. Grayson."

He eased by her and stepped inside.

Vivid closed the door. He appeared
pleasantly surprised by the furnished interior and spent a few moments glancing
around. He walked over to view some of Jess's watercolors hanging on the beams
above the small desk and asked, "Is this you?"

Vivid went to stand at his side.
"Yes, that is me, at nine summers. My sister Jess is the artist."

"Your sister painted this?"

"Yes."

Nate took down the picture and looked at
the smiling young Lancaster clad in a pair of patched knickers, standing atop a
crate. She held in her small hand an upright billiard stick. She stood like a
child posed with a fishing pole. Her sister had caught the playfulness and
humor in Lancaster's dark eyes. Viveca Lancaster had been beautiful even as a
child. “Your sister is quite talented," he said, handing the painting
back.

"Yes, she is. She painted this while
studying in Spain. She's married and lives in Liberia now. I miss her
dearly."

Vivid hung the picture back in its spot.
“Magic says you paint also?"

"Yes, but I haven't in many years.
You spoke of having two sisters. Is the other one in California with your
parents?"

"No, Alicea lives in Boston. She's
the eldest."

His response to her inquiry about his
painting was so abrupt, she sensed it was not a subject open to discussion.

He stood looking at the books on her shelf
when he said, "The Quilt Ladies want you to come to tea tomorrow. Two
o'clock, at their place." He took down a volume and leafed through the
pages.

"Who are the Quilt Ladies?"

"They do charity work in the area.
They also consider themselves the town's moral society."

"And they'd like me over for
tea?" Vivid swallowed. "For what purpose?"

"To see if you're up to snuff, I
would imagine." He replaced the book.

"Are they an influence here?"

"They think they are."

Vivid didn't have to think long about this
decision. If members of the community wanted to meet her, she had no recourse
but to go. "Then I suppose I'll be having tea at two. You didn't tell them
I play billiards, did you?"

"No," he replied with a small
chuckle.

"That's probably best for now."

"Probably," he said. "I
doubt they share your love of the game."

Vivid chose to ignore the quip and asked
instead if he had been able to find an animal to transport her about town.

"Vernon's going to see about it later
in the week; his uncle up in Calvin Center has one for sale."

"Thank you."

Nate wondered if she'd been paid any other
unseemly visits. “Any of the men from this morning come back?"

"No. Miss Edna doubts I've seen the
last of them, however."

"She's probably right."

"Well, I hope you're both wrong.
Doesn't anyone realize that if I wanted a husband, I could have stayed in San
Francisco?"

"Did you have a beau back
there?"

She shook her head no. Beaus were a sore
point with Vivid. "I don't do well with beaus."

"Why not?"

"I simply don't," she said,
shrugging. "They disapproved of my billiard playing, or my tendency to say
what I believe, or my choice of profession. In some cases all three."

He held her eyes. "You are a mite
overpowering," he stated, looking down at her, his arms across his chest.
"For some."

"Some—most—it doesn't
matter. I have trouble being the docile woman they want me to be."

"So you're planning on going through
life without a mate?''

"Medicine is my mate."

He smiled; an amused dark-skinned
archangel.

"You find that idea funny?" she
asked.

"It isn't the idea, it's you,
Lancaster."

"Ah, that's right. You believe every
woman needs a man."

"I—"

"Well, so far I have done very well
without one," she stated.

"Have you now?" he asked in a
skeptical voice, his eyes holding hers.

"Yes, I have," she replied
proudly. "I don't need a man dictating what I may or may not do."

"A man shouldn't have to dictate. His
woman should want to please him."

Vivid surveyed him a moment, not quite
sure if he was teasing her or if he was serious. "And when will the man
please the woman?"

“Whenever she asks, and if he does it
properly, she should have no complaints."

Vivid blinked. His words made her heart
race and she looked away, flustered. "I believe we're discussing different
subjects, Mr. Grayson."

"Weren't you speaking of a man
pleasing a woman?"

"Yes, but on a more...intellectual
level."

"Ah, I thought you were speaking
about passion."

Vivid's cheeks flooded with heat.
"No."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you,
Lancaster."

"I'm not embarrassed, Mr. Grayson. I
am a physician, after all. A simple discussion of physical functions will not
send me running to the hills."

Nate eyed her. Despite her claim to the
contrary, she appeared as ruffled as a schoolgirl. He found this facet of the
vivid Dr. Lancaster unexpected and quite interesting. "So no beaus and no
desire for a husband."

"No."

Nate didn't believe her at all. Most of
the young women he knew were forever angling for a man. And he was certain a
woman as beautiful as she would have her pick of bachelors. "So you've
never been in love?"

He'd dredged up another sore point. She
simply shook her head, unwilling to confide her despair of ever finding a man
who'd truly value her enough to share her dreams. "And have you?" she
finally asked.

"I thought I was at one time, but I
was wrong."

She sensed by the sadness in his tone that
Nate Grayson had been hurt very badly in the past and wondered when and by
whom. "Do you still believe in love?"

"Despite my own failure, I do. My
mother died when I was nine, but I distinctly remember my parents loving each
other very much. I'd hoped to share that with someone one day."

"Do you continue to hold that
hope?"

"No."

Nate had never discussed such things with
a woman before and he felt odd and a bit out of his realm.

"My parents are deeply bound to each
other also," she said. “My father likes to say he had as much business
courting my mother as a goat had going to school."

Nate met her smile with one of his own.
"What did he mean by that?"

"He was a runaway working on the San
Francisco docks. My mother was the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men
in California."

"I see what your father meant.
Society says he wasn't even supposed to look at a woman of her class. How did
they meet?"

"He was on the docks one evening when
Mama and my grandparents were leaving a ship. He said at the time she was the
most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, slave or free. And he didn't let his
station in life deter him. He wooed her and eventually married her. She gave up
her inheritance to be his wife."

"Would you give up a fortune to be a
wife?"

Vivid looked up into his eyes. "A
fortune, possibly. My medicine, no."

He chuckled. "Lancaster, I hope I'm
around to see you eat Coyote's black currants one day."

"Coyote's black currants?"

"It's an old Native tale about a
young maiden who enjoys working so much, she refuses to marry any of the braves
in the village. Coyote makes her fall in love with him by bringing her black
currants. I'll tell you the rest some other time."

"So in other words, you wish to see
me struck by Cupid's arrow?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Oh ye of little faith. Not every
female is rendered mindless just because a man brings her flowers or writes her
sonnets in which moon always rhymes with June. The women of today are looking
toward the next century. There are issues to confront, a race to move forward,
and we are not content to make a man's home our sole reason for being."

"Traveling life's road alone breeds
loneliness. Believe me, I speak from experience."

It was not the rejoinder Vivid had
expected. She sensed a depth in him she'd not felt before that moment. He was
far more complex than she'd originally thought him to be, and whether or not
she cared to admit it, she found him intriguing. Vivid shook herself out of her
reverie. How on earth had she gotten on this track in the first place? She
decided to change topics, as the course they had begun could only prove
dangerous. "So I should hear from Vernon soon about his uncle's
animal?"

"Yes."

Nate had no name for what had just passed
between them, but something had changed. He was certain she'd felt it, too. He
picked up his hat and started toward the door. "I'll be escorting you to
the ladies' tea tomorrow."

Vivid was surprised. Why hadn't he
mentioned that early on? She wondered. She also didn't think his escorting her
was a good idea. She and Nate Grayson would undoubtedly end up disagreeing over
something on the ride there, and she'd be angry and frustrated when she was
introduced to the Quilt Ladies. And she'd hardly be able to charm them if she
was angry and frustrated. "Mr. Grayson, I'm certain you are much too busy
to spend an afternoon having tea, so if there's a buggy and a map I may borrow,
I'm certain I can get there on my own."

"They requested my presence,
also."

"Oh."

Hat in hand, his big body filling her
doorway, he gazed over at her and said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say
you were trying to avoid my company, Lancaster."