“Yes,” I replied. “He’s hilarious.”
When I mentioned to Millie that I’d met Mr. Trellis’s younger brother, Darwin, she was eager to tell me all about him, and when she spoke her eyes glittered with wonder, much as Teddy’s had the night before. She informed me that he’d been a gifted athlete in high school and would have earned a football scholarship to any university he chose, but the car accident had damaged his back so severely that it ended his football career. “He took it quite hard,” Millie said, “and for years he was angry at his brother and blamed him for having pulled him out of the car. I can’t tell you how many times he told me that he would’ve preferred to die. Oh, he got over it eventually, but when he did, that darned gambling gene surfaced in a mean way and wouldn’t let go of him. In a few years he managed to squander away a good portion of his inheritance. It got so bad that he tried to convince Adam to sell the house. They had some terrible arguments about it, but Adam refused to sell the house or any of the property attached to it. Instead, he bought his brother out and then Darwin left right around the time that Lillian started sniffing around, trying to get under Adam’s skin and into his wallet.” Millie sighed. “Ever since then, Darwin tends to come and go. When his pockets are full we won’t see or hear from him for months at a time. He usually goes to Europe. He says that European women are more open-minded and less demanding than American women. How I miss him when he’s gone.”
Darwin showed up unexpectedly a few days later while I was in the kitchen helping Millie with the dinner dishes.
“How’s the most bewitching woman in the world?” he asked, startling us both.
Millie giggled with delight when she saw him, and propped her soapy hands on her hips. “Ms. Lillian is upstairs,” she said primly.
“You know perfectly well I’m not referring to Lillian,” he returned, and then he embraced Millie with obvious affection, unconcerned that her soapy hands were all over his expensive jacket. When he released her, she was flush with pleasure.
“And how are you this evening, Ana?” he said with a curt and respectful nod. “Still taking care of my precious Teddy?”
“Yes, sir, and Jessie too,” I replied.
He turned back to Millie. “I came to speak with Adam. Do you know if he’s here?”
“He’s in the study as usual,” Millie said with a wave of her hand. “Be sure to come back before you leave, and I’ll have some fresh-baked cookies for you.”
“Oatmeal?” he asked while rubbing his hands together greedily.
“What else?” Millie replied, and Darwin left for the study with promises to return.
The moment he left, Millie’s smile dropped, and she shook her head in dismay. “It’s good to see him, but whenever he starts showing up around here I worry that he’s in some kind of trouble involving money, women, or both.” Millie continued to shake her head with infinite regret. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to find one good woman and settle down, but for that boy all of womankind is like a never-ending pack of chewing gum. He’ll unwrap a stick, chew on it for a while, and then throw it away as soon as the flavor starts to fade. Then he just unwraps another stick and starts all over again. He’s so darned handsome and charming that he never seems to run out of a fresh supply. The only woman he doesn’t seem to tire of is his brother’s wife,” Millie said, pursing her lips with displeasure. “The way she teases and taunts the poor man isn’t right.”
“Do you mean Ms. Lillian?”
“Who else?” Millie replied with a toss of her head.
I turned away, feeling the sudden need to defend Lillian. “Maybe she just feels sorry for Mr. Darwin,” I said.
“Whatever for?” Millie asked.
“Because he couldn’t play football after the accident, and because he has so many problems with money and women.”
Millie shook her head as though ashamed for me and my ignorance. “There’s no doubt that you have a gift with children, Ana,” she said, “but when it comes to adults, you don’t have a clue.”
I learned, through Millie, that Darwin had commissioned an artist to paint a portrait of Ms. Lillian and the children as a surprise for his brother on his thirty-fifth birthday. And as luck would have it, he knew of just the artist for the job.
On an especially dreary afternoon, when Jessie was napping and Teddy and I were reading in the nursery, Millie came upstairs looking for us. She twirled her hand before her, bowing like a royal servant. “The artist has arrived and the presence of the little prince and princess is being requested in the drawing room,” she announced, slightly slurring her words.
“Do you mean right now?”
“Artistic geniuses don’t like to be kept waiting,” she said, and when she left the sour odor of whiskey lingered in the air. I hoped that Teddy hadn’t noticed her odd behavior, but he was watching Millie in a more studied manner of late, as though he’d caught on that something wasn’t quite right. Sharp as he was, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he figured out what it was.
Jerome was waiting in the sitting room by the largest window, bent over his artist’s tools that were scattered all about him. I had decided not to wake Jessie for the time being, knowing that she would be a very grumpy subject if I did. Teddy wasted no time and raced toward the colorful paints, assuming that they were toys. I managed to intercede before he’d opened one of the tubes of paint, remembering the week before when he disappeared into the music room with a box of crayons. He was out of sight for no more than a few minutes, but in that time managed to cover one entire wall with pictures of his favorite bugs, all with wide, happy grins.
“Teddy, these aren’t toys for you,” I said gently. “These are for the artist to paint with.”
Teddy pouted and placed his hands on my cheeks. “But I want to paint picture for you, Nana,” he said, hoping this would change my mind.
Jerome cleared his throat, and I looked directly at him for the first time since I’d entered the room. He smiled, revealing a row of perfectly even white teeth. His skin was equally flawless, and his hair a brilliant shade of gold. He possessed a soft radiant beauty unusual for a man, yet his toned, perfectly proportioned body was undeniably masculine. Teddy and I stared at him for a moment or two, quite overwhelmed by his dreamlike appearance.
“What a beautiful child,” he observed. “And you must be Lillian,” he said, lifting discerning eyes to my face. His smile remained gracious but he was unable to disguise his disappointment.
“Oh no, I’m not Lillian,” I said, coloring. “I look after the children. My name is Ana.”
“Nana!” Teddy corrected, as usual.
Jerome was obviously well accustomed to painting children and understood the importance of engaging them before requesting that they sit. He had paint and brushes set aside especially for them, and he happily chatted with Teddy about the different colors he planned on using and the brushes as well, answering all of his questions even if they weren’t perfectly understandable. Teddy beamed with bright curiosity as he interacted with this fascinating new visitor, while I sat near the door waiting for Lillian to arrive. She would then let me know if she wanted me to stay during the sitting.
Moments later, Lillian made her entrance wearing a white fitted dress, and I was reminded of the first day I saw her. I’d become so accustomed to her spectacular beauty that sometimes I didn’t take much notice unless I was in the company of someone who hadn’t yet met her. Jerome’s eyes swept the length of her willowy body and settled on her face. He was clearly dazzled and perhaps even somewhat annoyed that he would have to share her canvas with the children.
Lillian smiled and offered her hand, quite pleased by the admiration she read in the artist’s eyes. A blush rose to her cheeks, making her even more striking. Teddy started his drawings as they began to discuss the process for the portrait. I was happy to hear that the children wouldn’t be required to sit for more than a few minutes at a time, and that Jerome was able to capture excellent likenesses
by observing them in their natural environment, as well as with the use of photos.
“I can begin some preliminary sketches today if you like.”
“That would be lovely,” Lillian replied excitedly. “Is Jessie up from her nap?” she asked, turning to me for the first time since the interview began.
“I don’t know. I’ll go check,” I said, standing up.
“Teddy, you go with Ana. Be a good boy.”
Teddy frowned at the prospect of interrupting his drawing session, but when he saw the seriousness in his mother’s eyes, he immediately dropped his brush and ran to me. We left the room together and were only a few feet from the door when I stopped to retie one of Teddy’s sneakers.
“I had a silly little thought. I’m almost too embarrassed to ask,” I overheard Lillian say.
“Well then, you must definitely ask,” Jerome replied with such playful intimacy that it was hard to believe they’d met for the first time just moments earlier.
“Do you paint nudes?” she asked.
It took him a moment to answer, and then he replied in a breathy voice, “I paint whatever my clients request.”
Jerome came to the house twice a week, on Tuesday mornings and Thursday afternoons. On Tuesdays, the children were dressed in their portrait clothes—white trousers and a white button-down collared shirt for Teddy and a beautiful embroidered white dress for Jessie. I enjoyed creating ringlets from her carrot-colored curls and arranging them all around her head. But on Thursday afternoons, the children were not present for the sitting, and I could only assume that this was the time set aside for “the nude.” I made it a point to keep the children away from the sitting room–turned–studio, and I didn’t tell Millie about what I’d overheard. It didn’t seem right to share something I shouldn’t know about in the first place. Anyway, Millie didn’t need any help fueling her arsenal of complaints against Lillian. As it was, whenever Jerome arrived, Millie would fold her arms over her chest and eye him suspiciously.
Most of the sittings began around noon and lasted two to three hours, which meant that Jerome always left well before Mr. Trellis came home. Lillian explained that this way there was no chance of spoiling the birthday surprise for her husband.
Whenever I walked by the closed studio door, I shuddered to think that Ms. Lillian was posing naked in front of this strange man. The only time I’d been naked in front of a boy was when Carlitos and I played down by the river and covered ourselves with mud. And the sisters at the convent had insisted on absolute modesty. Our showers were private, and we always dressed ourselves completely from head to toe before leaving the bathroom. We even took care to wash our underclothes ourselves so that no human hands but our own would ever touch what touched the most intimate parts of our bodies.
One Thursday afternoon, three weeks after the sittings began, I left the children with Millie in the courtyard to get Teddy’s ball from the nursery. As I passed the studio, I hesitated outside the door when I heard a loud crashing sound from inside. The door was slightly ajar, so I peeked in, only to find the room empty, although I could see that Jerome’s canvas had fallen off the easel, probably making the sound I’d heard moments earlier. I was contemplating entering the room to put it back when I heard the click of the front door and Mr. Trellis’s familiar footsteps coming down the hall. He was home much earlier than usual, and although I was flustered, I managed to close the door before he turned the corner.
“You’re home early today, Mr. Trellis,” I said, as casually as I could.
“I need to speak with Lillian about something. Is she home?” he asked.
“Yes, I…I…believe so,” I stammered.
“Where can I find her?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I replied, wondering where in the world she could be. “I can look for her if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Tell her I’ll be waiting for her in the study.”
The moment he entered his study and closed the door, I ran about this way and that, not certain about where to begin my search, and the frantic beating of my heart only made my indecision worse. I realized that my anxiety had nothing to do with keeping his birthday present a surprise, but with making sure that Mr. Trellis didn’t discover his wife posing naked for the handsome golden-haired artist, because if he did, I was certain that something horrible would happen.
I tried to calm down and begin my search in a methodical manner. I began on the first floor, searching the rooms one by one, even the music room and the laundry room, where it was highly unlikely they’d be. I searched the second floor in the same manner and was bold enough to open Mr. and Mrs. Trellis’s bedroom door after knocking and calling out, “Ms. Lillian, Mr. Trellis is home early. Oh, Ms. Lillian, your husband is here.” But every room on the second floor was empty, which led me to reluctantly go up to the third floor.
Since my first and only visit there, I’d been quite clear with Teddy that he was to stay away from the third floor when playing hide-and-seek, and that if he disobeyed me I wouldn’t play this game with him anymore. It was as much for his safety as it was for my comfort. I wasn’t eager to revisit what I considered to be the most disagreeable place in the house.
As I climbed the service stairs, I went briskly, trying my best to ignore the musty odor and the drapery of cobwebs that brushed my face and arms. Once I reached the landing, my throat tightened and a chill crept up and down my spine. Immediately, I sensed that I was not alone. “Is anybody here?” I muttered, nearly choking on my words, and as I tended to do whenever I felt anxious or afraid, I remained silent, hoping that whatever I feared wouldn’t find me.
I took several steps into the corridor and noticed that one of the doors at the far end was slightly ajar. I stopped and listened, certain that I’d heard something, but perhaps it was nothing more than the scuttle of the cockroaches and mice beneath the floorboards. I took another step forward and then I definitely heard something—it was my mother’s whispering voice: “What a man and woman do together is private, and you shouldn’t be watching.”
Unable to heed her warning, I peeked through the open door and saw Lillian’s pale nude body reclining on the couch, her legs demurely crossed and her hands behind her head as though she were sunbathing. Jerome, also nude, was lying next to her. His bronzed muscular body made Lillian’s appear childlike, and he was lightly stroking her inner thigh as though it were a pet, slowly making his way up to her crotch as she murmured with pleasure.
Not knowing what else to do, I pushed on the door and let it swing open. When Lillian saw me standing in the doorway her eyes flew open and Jerome jumped up in a flash and cried out, but all I heard was an alien buzzing sound in my head. I stood frozen, unable to move or make a sound, certain that if I did the floor beneath my feet would give way and the entire house would crumble all around us. I could only stare into Ms. Lillian’s startled ethereal blue eyes, hoping for guidance. But she was frozen as well, watching me as though I were a beast that might devour her in a single gulp.
Finally I broke the unholy spell growing between us. “Ms. Lillian, your husband just came home. He wants to speak with you in the study.”
The muscles in Lillian’s delicate throat strained, and she swallowed hard. She was making an effort to stay calm and focused in the face of this absurd crisis. “Ana, listen to me,” she said in an almost soothing voice. “We can’t let Adam find Jerome in the house. Go downstairs and tell him that I’m feeling ill and that I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”
“Yes, Ms. Lillian,” I muttered. Without a word Jerome stood up. Looking more disappointed than alarmed, he strode toward the place where his clothing lay in a heap. His semi-erect penis bobbed slightly as he walked, and I couldn’t help but notice that his pubic hair was dark brown and not golden like the hair on his head. He pulled on his trousers and groaned when the zipper caught on the loose flesh of his groin. I wondered why he wasn’t wearing underwear when I was certain that all men wore
underwear.
Ms. Lillian stood up next and shrugged on her robe as Jerome finished dressing. “And you must keep Adam occupied until you’re certain that Jerome is out of the house, do you understand?”
I nodded, but I was unable to move, prompting Lillian to harshly say, “You heard me, Ana. Go on now! We don’t have much time.”
I suddenly came to life and shot down the two flights of stairs, vaguely aware of Jerome’s feet pounding behind me. I rushed past the sitting room and ran directly to the kitchen, where I paused for a moment to catch my breath. From there I could hear Jerome banging around in the sitting room as he gathered his things together, but I knew this would take him several minutes to accomplish. Shaking from head to toe, I went to the sink and splashed my face with cool water. Once I felt more or less composed, I proceeded to the study, where Mr. Trellis was looking over some papers at his desk. When I entered, I could tell he was disappointed to see that it was me and not his wife standing in the doorway.
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” he said.
“I’m sorry I…I…”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, half rising from his chair. “Is it the children?”
“No, they’re fine.”
“Well, did you find Lillian?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “But she’s not…she’s not feeling well.”
His eyes were shrouded with concern. “What’s wrong with her? She seemed well enough this morning.”
Somehow the words found their way into my mouth. “She has…she has female problems.”
“I see,” he said, looking away awkwardly. “Well, this can’t wait, is she upstairs?”
“I…I’m not sure,” I stammered.
“I thought you said you just spoke with her.”
“Yes, but she may not be where I last saw her,” I replied nervously.
He stood up and came around his desk. “And where exactly was that?”
Vigil Page 15
