Laura
by
Diane Batten

A curtain of rain poured off the porch roof. Lighting cracked next to the barn. Laura blinked, blinded by the flash. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. The rain splashed on the porch railing, shooting a fine mist over her. Wiping her eyes on her knees, she took a deep breath. Lonely? She thought, I should have answered him. Made something up. She lifted her head to the mist. I have my work. He doesn't understand. Tears mingled with the soft wet mist covering her face. I didn't answer him. How do you separate loneliness from emptiness? I felt his eyes on my back. She shivered and tightened her grip around her legs. They burn me at times. Does he sense that? The thunders loud rumble shook through her. She braced herself for the lighting that would come. Lifting her head she curled her toes into the chair, waiting. "There!" The jagged bolt streaked across the sky, landing in the yard in front of her. The damp hair on her arms rose in the heavy static and she curled her toes deeper into the wooden chair. "One, two." She quickly covered her ears as the thunder rattled the house. "Magnificent." A smile crept over her face and she uncurled her legs. Standing she, wiggled her bare toes on the drenched wooden planks.

"Miz. Laura!" Opal shouted through the screened door. "You should come in now! That storms gonna get you." Opal peeked her head out. "Please Miz. Laura!"

Laura crossed her arms and glanced at the door. "In a little while," she said and turned back to the storm. She stepped to the railing and leaned forward. Do you want me? She gripped the railing and leaned over, letting the rain drench her hair. Pulling back she shook her head and laughed. You can't have me. Not yet.

"Miz. Laura! You gonna catch your death!" Opal screamed. "Please come in here. I got dry clothes laid out for you."

Laura released her grip on the railing, thinking, yes, I'll catch my death. She smiled and nodded to the storm. "All right Opal," she said.

Opal held the screened door open. "You git outa them wet clothes and into a hot tub," she said.

"A little rain won't kill you Opal," Laura said.

"No 'um, but that lighting will," Opal answered.

Laura laughed, walking down the hallway to her bedroom. Life kills you much slower, she thought, much slower. She ripped her wet shirt off she flung it on the bathroom floor. Then leaned against the sink and yanked her legs out of the soaked jeans. The trick is to go on day after day. Why did I let him in my bed?

Opal quickly poured Laura's coffee. "Mr. Henry called," she said, setting the cup in front of Laura. "He's gonna stop by."

Laura moved her eyes to Opal's face, "Really?" she asked.

Nervously wiping her hand on her apron said, "Supper'll be ready soon."

Laura scooted the chair back and took the cup and went to the window. Henry, she thought. He's coming a day early. A day early to save my soul. My soul, my ass! She chuckled and sipped the hot coffee. His eyes undress me before he finishes asking how I've been. How many other souls has he tried to save with those lecherous eyes?

"Supper," Opal said.

Laura turned from the window. "Thank you, Opal," she said.

"Yes 'um," Opal said, watching her sit down. "You all right Miz. Laura?"

"I'm fine, just fine," Laura answered, draping the napkin across her lap. "Did you get those canvas mailed?"

"Yes 'um. I told you this morning," Opal said.

Laura lifted the fork, thinking, you did? I don't remember, I was so tired after working all night. Well, they should keep Jennings happy and the bills paid.

Laura helped Opal cleared the table then went to her studio. She stood in the middle of the room, intensely staring at the canvas she had started last night. The blue is too deep, she thought. It was softer, patches of fog. She closed her eyes. He never understood. Hated the smell of my paints, the mess. He complained. 'Isn't it possible to paint without getting it all over you and the house? ' If I had a studio. She shook her head and took a ragged breath. He never understood. Her eyes rested on the canvas, yes, the sky was softer.

Opal stuck her head around the partially opened door. "Mr. Henry's here," she said.

"I'll be right there," Laura whispered. Softer, with pink filtering down.

Henry jumped to his feet as Laura entered the room. "Laura, how have you been?" he asked.

She smiled as she crossed the living room. "Henry. Please sit," she said, taking the stuffed chair across from him. "What brings you out a day early?"

He said, "I'm taking the wife and kids down to her mamma's tomorrow. She's been under the weather." His eyes raced over Laura's face, then dropped to her breasts. "How's your paintings coming?"

Laura deliberately pulled her shoulder back. "Fine," she answered, watching him swallow.

"Good, good," Henry said, fumbling with is bible. "We have gone through Ecclesiastes and now come to The Songs Of Solomon." He looked up. "Have you read through it?"

Slowly moving forward Laura said, "Kiss me again and again, for your love is sweeter than wine." She fell back, keeping a straight face.

Henry's eyes went to the bible. "Uh, uh, well, yes it more or less says that," he said.

Laura reached for her coffee cup, thinking, you are all eyes until someone calls your bluff. "My soul doesn't depend on The Songs Of Solomon. If it did I would be lost, don't you think?" she asked.

Henry cleared his throat. "Solomon's song is praising Christ. The churches love for the Lord," he said.

Laura stared at him over the rim of her cup. "Really?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, it's a song of joy too praise the Lord," Henry replied.

Opal stood in the entrance of the living room. "Excuse me, Miz. Laura. But, Mr. Lee is here," she said.

Henry closed the bible and quickly stood as Lee walked in. "Lee,"  he said.

Lee nodded to him.

"I best be going," he said, turning to Laura. "You read Isaiah and we will discuss it next week"

"I will, Henry," Laura said as she stood.

"And if you need anything...uh, or have any questions before then just call me," he said, walking backward.

Laura smiled. "Thank you Henry. If, I have any needs I'll keep you in mind," she said.

Henry's face flushed and said, "Good night, Laura." He nodded. "Lee." He backed out of the room.

Laura slowly sat down, here eyes followed Lee to the couch. "What bring you out here?" she asked.

Lee chuckled and sat down. "You," he said, crossing his legs. "It seems the men in town don't mind the long drive."

Laura shrugged her shoulders. "And it's such a pity they come all this way for nothing," she said and stood up

"I see you are still angry." He got to his feet. "I came by to see if you had forgiven me yet. I'm sorry my confession of love upset you," he said.

Laura shook her head. "I have work to do," she said.

"I'm sure you do. You create beautiful landscapes, Laura. It's a shame you don't take the time to walk through the land you paint." He watched her face. "I'll let myself out," he said, walking past her. "I'm a patience man, Laura. I'll be here when you decide to stop hiding from life."

She listened to his boots echoing through the hallway, then the door close and went to her studio. Squeezing the tube of blue paint, she slowly mixed white until she was satisfied with the soft blue. Using broad strokes, she covered the left corner of the canvas.

Opal lightly knocked on the door. "Do you need anything before I go to bed, Miz. Laura?" she asked.

"No, good night," Laura answered, pulling the brush back.

"Night," Opal said, closing the studio door.

Laura slashed the brush across the canvas. "No...no...no!" She picked the canvas up and threw it across the room. Why can't I get the damn color right? A blot of lighting flashed through the room and she turned to the window. Are you tempting me? She wondered going to the French doors, she threw them back, the heavy air slapped her face. "Are you?" She shouted, walking onto the porch and down the steps to the yard. "Here I am!" Stretching her arm wide she lifted her face to the sky, "Take me!"

"Miz. Laura!" Opal shouted through her bedroom window. "Lordy."

Laura blinked as the rain hit her eyes, "Fill me! Fill me!" she shouted at the sky.

Opal held the umbrella higher, to cover Laura. "Miz. Laura. You come on in. This storm don't want you." She wrapped her arm around Laura's waist. "Come on now," she said.  She helped Laura toward the house. "These storms ain't like what your used to in the city, Miz. Laura. They's mean. And I don't know about you, but I ain't ready to meet my maker. No ‘um not ready at all." She dropped the umbrella on the porch and opened the door. "You git dried and I'll fix us some hot soup."

Laura stumbled down the hallway, thinking, soup. Will hot soup fill me? She pulled her wet shirt off. It seems like I have done this before, she hung it over the shower curtain rod and grabbed her robe.

"You sit and I'll bring the soup," Opal said, watching water drip from Laura's hair. "What are you looking for?"

Laura slammed the cabinet shut. "This," she said holding up a bottle of whisky. "Don't roll you're eyes at me." She poured the whisky into her coffee.

"You been acting strange all week. Maybe a little whisky will settle you down," Opal said.

"Really?" Laura asked, holding the cup up.

"Yes 'um," Opal answered.

Laura sat down and said, "If I could get anyone in this God forsaken town to understand me, then I could settle down." She gulped the coffee down and poured the cup full of whisky. "Maybe you would like a cup."

"No 'um," Opal answered, watching her.

"Suite yourself," Laura said. "Here's to men." She swallowed and coughed. "Men with patience."

Opal shook her head. "It ain't none of my business, but it's your own fault. You the one that sent him away," she said.

"My fault? You sound like my ex-husband. Your fault Laura. If you hadn't been so wrapped up in your damn paintings. Your fault." Laura eyes held Opal's. "They don't understand, I am my paintings," she said.

Opal lowered her eyes. "You ain't no canvas, Miz. Laura. You're flesh and bones like the rest of us," she said.

Laura massaged her forehead. "He'll smother me," she whispered.

Opal picked up the untouched soup bowl. "Maybe, maybe not. But, you got to stop tempting that lighting, Miz. Laura. It ain't as forgiving as Mr. Lee." She put the bowl in the refrigerator. "I'm going to bed," she said.

Propping her feet on the porch railing, Laura watched the lighting flash in the distance. I shouldn't have let him in my bed, let him hold me. Dam it! She jumped up, grabbing the bottle of whisky and ran to the studio. Tucking the bottle under her arm she locked the door and lifted a new canvas onto the easel. I won't be changed, not by you! Not for you! I won't change just to have a warm body lying next to me. She mixed the paint.

Opal knocked on the studio door. "Miz Laura, your breakfast is ready," she said and put her ear to the door. "Miz. Laura?" Opal shook her head and went back to the kitchen.

Laura held a brush between her teeth, quickly she switched the brush from her hand to her mouth. Your burning eyes, she thought, lightly brushing over the right pupil, burning...burning.

"Oh, Lordy," Opal whispered and wiped her hands on her apron. "Mr. Lee." She hurried onto the porch.

"Good morning," Lee called.

"Miz. Laura's working," Opal said.

"I came out to see if everything's all right out here. The storm knocked out the telephone lines in town," Lee said, walking up the steps.

"We're fine, Mr. Lee," Opal said.

Laura dropped her arm. Damn it, what is he doing here? She laid the brush down and wiped her hands on her robe. Slipping out the French doors she came up behind Lee. "I suppose you were just in the neighborhood," she said. "And stopped by for a cup of coffee."

Lee swung around. "It's a beautiful morning, Laura. And yes, I'd love a cup of coffee." His eyes danced over her. "Maybe you'd like to join me. It looks like you could use a break from your work," he said.

Laura hid her hand behind her back. "Yes, yes I could," she said and looked at Opal. "Please serve Mr. McKenna a cup of coffee, while I clean up."

"Yes 'um," Opal said.

Lee's smile broadened. "You don't need to clean the paint off of your hands for me, Laura," he said.

Laura laughed, "Really?" she asked.

He walked down the steps. "Really," he whispered.

Laura looked at her hands. "I won't change," she said.

"I don't want you to change, Laura. I love you the way you are," Lee said.

Laura reached out and lightly touched his brow.

He swept her off her feet. "I love you the way you are, Laura," he said and carried her to the kitchen.

"I fixed you some grits and an egg," Opal said, watching Lee put Laura down.

Lee laughed and said, "My granny used to say grits can cure anything." He winked at Opal and pulled a chair out. "It even cures hangovers. She called grits the nectar of life."

Laura stood by the table. "Was she talking about food or fortitude?" she asked.

Lee took her hand in his. "Maybe she was talking about both. If you eat grits you'd better have enough fortitude to carry you through life. It's not all flowers and beautiful landscapes," he said.

She pulled her hand back. "It's lighting and temptations," she whispered and turned to the window, watching the gathering clouds. "You asked me if I am lonely." She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes."

Lee held his hand out. "I can cure that, Laura, if you'll let me," he said.

The thunder rumbled and echoed through the kitchen, Laura grasped his hand tightly and smiled. "Yes," she whispered, thinking, you can fill me.

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