Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold

by Regina Doman

  “Just like a romantic,” Fish muttered, drinking his tea. “I grant you, she is very pretty, but it would have to be a fairly extreme case of jealousy for someone to go to the lengths they have. And that’s not very likely, is it?”

  Bear suddenly looked at Fish, blinking. The next moment, he had gotten to his feet, shaking all the china on the table.

  “Are you all right?” Jean said, taken aback.

  His mind was racing as he walked over to the desk. “Jean, do you still have that photo of Blanche?” he asked. “It was here with the mail when we first came to your house before you got back.”

  “Yes, it’s right there in the slot with the envelopes. I was wondering about it too,” Jean said, rising and following him. “It’s such a good photo of her.”

  Bear found the photo as Fish and Rose came over. Fish, who hadn’t noticed it before, whistled when he saw it. “Great picture,” he said.

  But Bear had already turned it over. He grabbed the nearby phone book and started turning pages.

  The other four watched him, mystified.

  “What are you looking for?” Rose asked finally.

  “Longbourne Studios,” Mrs. Foster had caught on at once, pointing to the photographer’s mark on the back.

  Longbourne Studios didn’t advertise in the yellow pages, but Bear found their name in the white pages. He dialed the number.

  A phone picked up, and a perky female voice said, “Good evening! Longbourne Studios.”

  Bear cleared his throat. “Hi. I have a question about a photograph from your studio. It’s very important.”

  “That’s probably something you’ll have to talk about with our photographer, and I’m afraid he’s gone for the evening.”

  “Is there any way I can reach him over the weekend? Like I said, it’s very important.”

  “Oh, he’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “Sunday?”

  “Yes. He said he’d be in at noon to get his equipment. Would you like to see him then?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “Super! Then I’ll leave a note to tell him that you’ll be in.” She took his name and number, cheerily thanked him for calling, and hung up.

  Bear hung up the phone and turned to find four sets of eyes staring at him.

  “Bear?” Fish asked tentatively, after a few moments of silence.

  “Just a hunch. Just a hunch,” Bear murmured.

  “Is it going to be dangerous?” Rose asked.

  “Most likely not,” Bear said.

  “You are taking me with you,” Rose said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sunday, August 15th, dawned bright and hazy, and the night-ridden city seemed to blink stupidly in the bright sunlight, unsure of what to do with it. The heat continued to expand, making the smell of tar rise from the pavements, and air conditioners and fans pumped out tiny breezes in small compartments all over the City. But in between the buildings was sandwiched nothing but hot air, stirred slightly only by the never-ending metal bodies of cars whisking over the black streets.

  After the usual discipline of prayer, Mass, and breakfast, the friars spent the morning getting ready for the Assumption party. The girl worked around the friars’ complex, doing whatever needed to be done, but feeling disconnected from it when she stopped paying attention to the immediate moment.

  She and the novices rehearsed the Our Lady of Guadalupe skit, and she was relieved to find out that it wasn’t a very big part, although she was still nervous at the thought of so many eyes being on her. At least she didn’t have to say anything.

  After the rehearsal, she tried on the shiny pink dress. It would work fairly well for Mary, she thought. The glossy patterned fabric that was tremendously gaudy in a street dress was subdued enough for a stage costume. And it was a modest dress, although meant for a much larger person than she was. She suspected it would be hot wearing it, but she decided to make the sacrifice. During a lull in the preparations, she sat in the vestibule on a stack of trash bags, ripped elastic out of a pair of shorts, and, using a sewing kit borrowed from Brother Herman, sewed the elastic into the waist of the dress to gather it in to fit her figure.

  She looked up to find her new ally among the friars standing in the doorway. “Hard at work?” he asked.

  “Yes. Did you find out anything?”

  “Well, it’s not in a prescription bottle. It looks more like a supply bottle that doctors or pharmacies would keep on hand for dispensing medications. It’s either something your friend got directly from his doctor or else...”

  “Or else what?”

  “He got it illegally. Is that possible?”

  “It’s not impossible,” she smiled, feeling a bit faint.

  “When I get a chance, I’m going to make a few phone calls. Then I might be able to tell you more.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I will say this: chances are, you were right to be suspicious.”

  Her hand holding the needle trembled and she jabbed herself accidentally. A drop of blood appeared on the side of her hand, and she put it to her mouth. “Thank you.”

  II

  Even though the Assumption party wasn’t supposed to start until three, kids started arriving shortly after noon. Leon and the novices kept them occupied in various ways, while Nora and the older friars continued their preparations.

  Nora was sorting out good Danishes from stale Danishes for the kids’ treats in the kitchen of the basement. Brother Leon paused beside her on his way to carry out a load of trash, and noticed that she looked pale again.

  She looked up and saw him watching her. “Something wrong?”

  “I was just going to ask you that.”

  “The only thing that’s wrong is the same thing that’s been wrong the entire time I’ve been with you,” she said with a half smile. “But, if it’s any consolation,” she added, “I do feel slightly better about the situation than I did before.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said lightly. And then, “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do for you?”

  “Pray.” She looked down for a moment. Changing the subject, she said, “I’m done with my costume.”

  “Great! Last time I checked on Brother Herman, he was working on your mantle of stars. You might want to go up and try it on.”

  “Thanks,” Nora said, and gave him a small smile. She turned back to her work.

  Leon fingered his rosary. He felt a need to get himself back on track, to figure out why he was suddenly feeling so apprehensive. Ascertaining that he wasn’t needed to do any more party prep for a while, he went upstairs for some quiet time with the Purpose in his life.

  Finally the party began, and the neighborhood folks started arriving, as well as other weekend volunteers. Nora passed out the Danish and doughnuts, and smiled at the kids. Marisol came up to him, in a slightly better mood than she had been last time. “How are the dogs?” she asked Brother Leon.

  He grinned at Cappu and Shin, who were racing around the courtyard, wagging their tails. “Best rat catchers we’ve ever seen.”

  The sun was baking the asphalt as the party trickled out into the street to see the playlet performed on the steps of the church. In costume, Brother Leon stood in the doorway of the church looking out at the crowd, heard a step behind him, and knew Nora was there.

  When he turned to look at her, she was resplendent in her shimmering pink gown, her head draped in a blue mantle, painted with Brother Herman’s silver stars. She was, put purely, lovely.

  “How do I look?” she asked, pushing back her black hair behind her ears.

  “You really look the part,” he told her, grinning.

  “I can’t say that I feel like the Immaculate Conception,” she murmured nervously, catching sight of the crowd.

  “That’s okay,” he said, patting her shoulder. Feeling a wave of premonition pass over him, he said, “You make sure you stay close to us. Look, I know it’s hard for you, but please don’t go off on your own.�
��

  “Why are you saying that?”

  “You know how you keep saying you have a bad feeling? Well, now I have a bad feeling. So keep your wits about you, and don’t go off anyplace. Especially with any friendly bag ladies. Promise me?”

  She gave in to him and smiled. “All right.”

  Brother Charley, holding a bent pipe with a cross taped to it for a bishop’s staff, came into the vestibule. “All set?” he said gruffly to Brother Leon. His eyes fell on Nora. “My lady,” he said simply, inclining his head and bowing low.

  Nora flushed, and made a rather graceful curtsy. Squelching the sudden trepidation that had risen up in him, Brother Leon leaned out the door, and gave thumbs up to Matt, who picked up his guitar and stepped forward and addressed the crowd in English and in Spanish. When he introduced the play with a flourish of steel strings, there were cheers.

  Leon stepped out and began his lines. A natural ham, he threw himself into his part, improvising as he described to the audience his devotion to our Lady and his desire to hurry on the long road to daily Mass.

  When the central doors of the church opened and Nora appeared at the center of the church steps, the children in the audience all gasped.

  “Encantadora,” he heard one say. Nora unassumingly took a step down and gestured to him.

  Matt explained to the audience that the Lady had asked Juan Diego to ask the bishop to build a church for her. Leon hurriedly acceded to her request, and hurried off the stage as Nora retreated gracefully back into the church.

  Next was the scene with the bishop. Charley and Leon took the opportunity to play up the comedy in the scene, with Charley looking at “Juan Diego” with exaggerated disbelief, and Leon insisting on his vision. Charley showed him to the door, pushed him out with his staff, and Leon sat dejected on the steps.

  Then Our Lady appeared again, and gestured to Juan Diego that he should keep on trying. So Juan Diego promised to go again the next day.

  But the next day, Juan Diego’s uncle, played by an ailing Brother Herman, was sick, and Juan Diego had to go fetch the doctor. He was halfway there when he recalled his appointment with Our Lady. Instead of going to meet her, he decided to sneak away. Leon explained this to the audience in a whisper, and started to pussyfoot off the stage when the doors opened and Nora appeared again, this time with a slightly severe expression. When she touched him on the shoulder, startling him, and he leapt up in the air in shock, the audience convulsed with laughter. Brother Matt made a face at Leon. “Okay, tone it down,” he murmured.

  Penitent, Leon knelt before the Lady and explained with his usual exaggeration his uncle’s poor state of health. Restraining a smile, Nora gestured, and Matt explained that she promised to heal his uncle, and send a sign to the unbelieving bishop. She pointed to the side door, where Charley obligingly shoved out a bucket with several artificial roses in it, indicating to Juan Diego that he should go and pick them. Leon climbed up the steps, and with great joy picked the roses and triumphantly brought them to the Lady. Nora solemnly arranged the roses in his tilma and sent him on his way.

  Now Charley came onstage, and a few moments later, after surreptitiously turning his poncho around, Leon returned once more. He begged with the bishop, who was even more pronounced in his skepticism than before. At last, in despair, Leon announced that he had a sign from the Lady. He undid his knotted poncho and let the roses spill out. A gasp went up from the audience as they saw the image of Our Lady. And indeed, Brother Herman had painted an image that was not only like the Guadalupe image, but one that resembled Nora as well, with her fair skin and black hair. A few of the kids in the audience began to clap, and soon the friars had a standing ovation on their hands.

  As the play ended, the audience cheered, and, enthusiasm being what it was, when Father Bernard invited them to join the procession with the Blessed Sacrament around the neighborhood, men, women, teenagers, and children all followed the friars appreciatively. The procession began, with hymns in Latin and Spanish sung with gusto. After the procession and Benediction, the audience poured into the basement for the party. Nora, who had tried to slip away to change, was firmly caught by the children and made to stay. They even begged her not to take off her costume, and she relented.

  It was a good party, and it lasted longer than it probably should have. By the time it was over, the sun was starting towards the west and the friars were behind in their nightly schedule.

  “Are you coming over for supper?” Leon asked Nora as they swept up the hallway after seeing the last of the children out.

  Nora shook her head. “I don’t think I can swallow a bite—I’m pretty tired,” she said.

  “Something worrying you?” he asked.

  “Well, you know how it is when you’re waiting for something,” she said.

  “Like what are you waiting for?”

  She half-smiled again. “I hope I’ll be able to tell you more, soon.”

  Again, he felt that current of warning. “Look, just make sure you take the dogs with you when you go back into the high school tonight, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t open—”

  She finished for him, “—the door for anyone. I know. I promise.”

  “And if you see anything suspicious, just run, okay?”

  “All right. I’ll try. I know, I’m a total weakling and I need your protection.” A touch resentful, she picked up a big tray of Danish crumbs and carried it off to the kitchen.

  Leon watched her, and then turned away as Matt came up to sweep up the dust pile he had gathered.

  “Leon, are you sure you’re not spending too much time with her?” he asked in a low voice.

  Reddening slightly, Leon winced. But he knew what Matt was asking. “I’m trying to keep myself detached,” he said, attempting not to sound defensive.

  “It’s just—we’re supposed to relate to the volunteers like sisters, but we have to be careful.”

  “Yeah. I’m being careful. Thanks for asking.”

  Leon put away his broom, looked around the basement, and seeing he was done, decided not to linger around. The other friars and Nora could finish the job. He went back upstairs to the chapel to prepare for evening prayer.

  III

  The photographer of Longbourne Studios kept erratic hours. After attending early Mass, Bear, Fish, and Rose had showed up at noon at the posh little Manhattan studio only to be told that the photographer, Mr. Vincent Van Seuss, had arrived at seven a.m., collected his equipment, and sped off somewhere. Even the chic blond receptionist, “Renee,” had no idea where he had gone.

  Rose and Bear had occupied themselves with looking at the extensive portfolio of Mr. Van Seuss that was available for the public, while Fish had settled into a comfortable chair for a nap. Huge examples of the photographer’s work hung lavishly from the high ceiling to the floor, mostly bold black and white renditions of gorgeous blond ladies strolling down Fifth Avenue or swimmers sunning themselves on the decks of yachts, or small children playing naked by the seashore.

  After waiting for some time with no success, Bear and Fish had finally taken Rose out to a late lunch downtown, leaving the receptionist the cell phone number. Although they dallied over their meal, talking about novels to pass the time, there was no sign of the photographer when they finally returned. “You would think he’d dropped off the face of the earth!” the receptionist had exclaimed. But Bear noted she didn’t look too concerned. Apparently this was the way that Mr. Van Seuss ran his business.

  There didn’t seem to be anything else they could do but wait. At least it was Sunday, a day of rest, so Bear let Rose talk them into going for a walk to relieve some of their stress. They had walked downtown, and Rose had just persuaded them to go into a hat store so she could try on a particularly intriguing hat, when Fish’s cell phone rang. It was, wonder of wonders, Renee the receptionist.

  “I just heard from him, and he said he’d be back at the studio at seven to talk with you,” she
informed them proudly.

  This was somewhat of a letdown after an entire day of waiting.

  “Too late for me,” Fish had said after he had hung up the phone. “There’s a required lecture at the University tonight. Since I’m here, I feel in all conscience I should go.”

  “Are you sure you can’t skip it?” Rose had asked, toying with the hat.

  Fish had looked at her, mildly disgusted. “Miss Brier, a college education is a privilege not to be taken lightly.”

  “Oh,” Rose had said solemnly. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Fish had said. “No, I don’t think I can afford to miss this lecture. It’s an Austrian professor speaking on the minor poets of the Romantic revival, and she’s about the only decent authority left on the subject. Bear, be a good big brother and drop me off, will you?”

  “We’ll call you on your cell phone if we discover anything really important,” Rose promised.

  Fish looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Unless it’s Blanche herself, or a culprit ready to confess before a jury, it can wait until I’m done with the lecture,” he said. Bear had steadily refused to discuss his hunch with either of them, so Fish had expressed doubt that this meeting would turn up anything worthwhile.

  Thus at seven o’clock Bear and Rose found themselves waiting for Mr. Vincent Van Seuss, the photographer, while Fish attended his lecture. By 7:30, there was still no sign of Mr. Van Seuss.

  Renee, who had not recognized Blanche’s photo, had helpfully loaned them several additional books of portraits Mr. Van Seuss had made over the past few years. Rose scanned every single page, but, as Bear had guessed, there were no pictures of Blanche among them.

  Now they sat on white wood chairs with black leather cushions, staring at the charcoal-colored carpet, Renee’s empty desk, and the red walls with their rows of faces and bodies.

  “What a nice position she has,” Rose indicated the absent Renee. Bear had guessed that Renee was in the back room painting her nails, not wanting her boss’s clients to see how idle she was. “She seems to have nothing to do but sit around in this classy office just in case someone happens to come in.”