Where Dreams Begin

by Phoebe Conn

  “Luke can’t disappear. I know where he works,” Catherine insisted, but it was yet another reminder of how unsettling it was to be with someone who preferred not to plan. It was a way to avoid disappointment that was true, but it seriously hampered delicious anticipation.

  First thing Monday morning, Catherine called her gynecologist and requested a new prescription for birth control pills. She’d recently seen her, and the conscientious physician agreed to call her pharmacy so that she would be able to pick up the prescription that same day. While Catherine would have to wait until after her next period to begin taking the pills, she was relieved just to have put her plan in place.

  When she arrived at Lost Angel, Dave was in Luke’s office, and from the volume of their voices, she doubted it was wise to disturb them and hung back.

  “Go on,” Pam encouraged with a bracelet jingling wave. “Luke will be glad to see you.”

  Catherine hoped he would be, but rather than intrude, she settled for a quick peek in the door. “I just wanted to let you know I’m here, but I’ll come back later.”

  Luke stood. “No, come on in. This concerns you as well. It seems after taking the weekend to check out the neighborhood, Dave chose Toby McClure’s Victorian.”

  She was enormously pleased and beamed her approval. “You like it too?”

  Dave took a step toward her. “I sure do. It has three stories, it’s right across the street, and Toby’s eager to do it.”

  “Too eager,” Luke interjected.

  “He moved in about a year ago, after some relative died and left him the place,” Dave said. “He makes huge metal creatures out in his garage, and I believe he’s even sold a few. If he were inclined to hit on the girls, he would have done it a long time ago. It’ll take some effort to rig scaffolding, but it’ll be worth it.”

  Luke appeared decidedly skeptical. “Let me think about it a while longer. In the meantime, keep looking.”

  “Fine, but what do you say to starting the art contest? That way, when a site is chosen, we’ll be all set to begin.”

  Luke glanced from Dave to Catherine. “As long as all you request are preliminary sketches. I don’t want the kids disappointed if we can’t pull this off.”

  “We’ll find a way,” Catherine insisted.

  “Do you have any idea how to paint a mural?” Luke shot back at her.

  She wondered if he was being curt for Dave’s benefit, but she didn’t appreciate his tone. “As a matter of fact, I do. We just need to work out our design on a grid and then enlarge the grid on the building. Then the drawing is transferred to the larger grid and painted in.”

  While Luke didn’t appear reassured, he gave in. “All right, I’ll make an announcement at noon. We have plenty of white paper, but you probably ought to walk down to the Ninety-Nine Cent Store for some colored pencils.”

  “Will do,” she replied. “We want angels, but we could have as many different kinds as there are kids who care to submit a design.”

  Dave moved toward the door. “If we go with Toby’s house, then he ought to be on our committee too.”

  Luke raised his hand. “Didn’t I just tell you to keep looking?”

  “That you did, and I’ll be on my way just as soon as I finish my chores. See you at noon, Cathy?”

  “Yes, see you then.” Catherine waited for Dave to leave and then carefully closed the office door behind him.

  She could appreciate Luke’s concerns, but that didn’t mean she would accept his surly attitude. She lowered her voice to a near whisper to avoid being overheard. “I didn’t argue when you said we had to keep what happens between us outside the center a secret, but you needn’t bark at me to keep Dave from becoming suspicious.”

  “I didn’t bark,” Luke complained too loudly.

  “All right, then you’re tired and forgot to eat, whatever the cause of your foul mood, you still need to be nice to me. Pretend I’m one of the other volunteers, like Alice Waggoner and Betty Murray who help Mabel. I’ve seen them here often.”

  Exasperated, Luke shoved his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just hoping Dave would come up with a viable alternative rather than provide another vote for Toby’s house.”

  She wished he weren’t so dead set against it. “I really do like the Victorian.”

  “Well, I don’t. I don’t think much of Toby, and three stories of scaffolding will make accidents, and serious ones, inevitable. I’ll grant you the mural might be spectacular, but I don’t want to lose any of the kids in the process.”

  “Neither do I. I want to go take another look at the house. Maybe we can lean out the windows to paint rather than use scaffolding.”

  “Do you plan to paint, yourself?”

  He appeared incredulous, and she much preferred the warmth passion lent his gaze. “No more than a brushstroke here and there. We want this to be the kids’ project, remember?”

  “Only too well.”

  She walked over to the window. Dave had trimmed the weeds creeping up through the asphalt, but it was still a desolate sight. “Is something else bothering you? I know I had a great weekend, and I’m sorry it didn’t leave you happier.”

  Luke circled his desk and came up behind her. He slid his arms around her waist to pull her back against his chest and nuzzled her nape. “I had a wonderful weekend too, but this morning a letter arrived from my ex-wife’s attorney. They’re going back to court to ask for more money.”

  She turned slowly in his arms. “Marsha’s actually done that?”

  He nodded. “The judge will probably review our initial settlement and laugh in her face, but still, it’s another problem I don’t need.”

  “No, of course not.” Catherine longed to kiss him, but waited for him to make the first move. When he did, the first brush of his lips was tender but so incredibly enticing that she could barely contain the enthusiasm of her response.

  Luke finally had to set her back a step. He sent a playful glance toward the desk. “You better leave now,” he warned, “before things really get out of hand.”

  For a second, she couldn’t recall where she was supposed to go. “Oh, yes, the Ninety-Nine Cent Store. I’m on my way.”

  It took her a moment to realize nothing had actually improved, but that Luke was smiling as she walked away was all that really mattered. As she left the office, she was startled to find Dave waiting for her right outside.

  “Do you have a minute to look at Toby’s house again?” he asked.

  “Sure. We ought to take some before pictures of whatever site we choose. I’ll have to remember to bring my camera.”

  “Good idea. You could photograph the entire process. If the mural is any good, it will generate some interest from the media, inspire some new volunteers, and even better, create a flood of donations.”

  Catherine had been concentrating on the mural itself rather than the results from the community. She was now struck with the belated realization that reaping the benefits of the project would surely be Luke’s chief concern. She didn’t want to let him down, and that increased the pressure to achieve a good result enormously.

  When they reached the corner, she was planning more logically and took note of the window placement. “It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it?” she said.

  “If you look beyond its present faded glory to its potential, it surely is. I can already see the angels flying upward. The kids are going to love this.”

  “I hope so, but I wish Luke were more inclined to agree.”

  Dave laughed and rocked back on his heels. “If you put your mind to it, I’ll bet you could sweet talk him into accepting Toby’s house.”

  His teasing jest had struck too close to home, and she ignored his suggestion and turned away. “I need to get those colored pencils.”

  He hurried to catch up with her. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Luke’s ex is giving him such a hard time that he probably wouldn’t notice if you walked through his office na
ked.”

  “There’s no danger of that,” Catherine assured him.

  “You’re right. He wouldn’t ignore you.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” she was quick to point out.

  “I know. Do you mind if I walk to the store with you?”

  “No, of course not.” Dave was a flirt, but in no danger of succumbing to his charms, she felt safe with him. She sent a brief glance toward the auto supply as they passed and hurried on. “I guess I’m just anxious to get started.”

  “Me too. There’s always plenty to do at Lost Angel, but not much of it is fun. I think the mural will be a hoot from beginning to end.”

  “I hope you’re right. I happen to believe having fun is an important aspect of life.”

  “Damn straight it is, especially for the kids. Luke does a hell of a job, but no one would ever hire him to be the activities director on a cruise.”

  She kept quiet rather than agree, but she was surprised after all Luke had done for Dave, that he would be so disloyal. “I thought you two were friends,” she offered and pushed open the door of the Ninety-Nine Cent Store.

  Dave caught the door and followed right behind. “We are, but that doesn’t mean we don’t butt heads occasionally. I think the art supplies are over here.”

  Catherine quickly gathered up a dozen boxes of colored pencils. “We’ll need the little sharpeners too.”

  “Here they are. The metal ones are best.” He grabbed a handful.

  She paid for their purchases, and they walked back to Lost Angel with Dave again doing most of the talking. When they arrived, he went out to work on the grounds, while she stayed in the office to sort through the latest mail.

  Shortly before noon, Luke produced a three-foot-wide roll of white butcher paper from the office supply closet, and walked Catherine over to the hall. “I thought I’d catch the kids while they’re lining up for lunch rather than when they’re full of spaghetti and yawning,” he explained.

  “Good plan.” She swung the bag of pencils and sharpeners in rhythm with her stride. “I just hope there are a couple of artists in the crowd. I’m sorry I don’t have any examples to show. I should have gone by the library and checked out some art books.”

  “You’re expecting a Renaissance masterpiece?”

  She hated to admit that was precisely what she’d envisioned. “That’s unrealistic, isn’t it?”

  “Wildly,” Luke stressed. “Think Colonial folk art, and you won’t be so badly disappointed.”

  The kids were already streaming into the hall, and Catherine moved aside to allow Luke to pass through the open doorway with the heavy roll of paper. They hadn’t once discussed how they would present the project to the kids, but she trusted him to make it sound appealing.

  He set the roll of paper against the wall and then asked for everyone’s attention. “I promise not to slow down the lunch line,” he began, “but we’re seriously considering painting a mural on a building owned by one of our neighbors. We’re hoping for angels to honor the center, but it’s your call as to how you portray them. We’ve plenty of white paper and colored pencils, so after you eat, try your hand at working up some preliminary sketches.”

  “Is there a deadline?” a feminine voice called from the far side of the hall.

  Luke turned toward Catherine. “How’s Friday?” he asked.

  “It’s fine,” she assured him.

  “Friday it will be, then. Are there any other questions?”

  “Is there any money in this?” Rafael sauntered up to ask.

  Luke shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. If you submit a spectacular design, for a single angel or the whole mural, then I just might be inspired to offer some prize money.”

  “Might?” Rafael pressed.

  “Yeah, I might,” Luke replied.

  Tina Stassy wove her way through the crowd. “How are we supposed to know what angels look like?”

  When Luke appeared perplexed, Catherine stepped forward. “They’d look like all of you. Have any of you ever watched figure skating on television? The skaters’ poses are so graceful they often appear to be flying. While that may be beyond our capabilities to achieve, I’d like for you to try.”

  Dave had entered the hall in time to hear Luke’s remarks, and he pushed off the wall and came forward. “If I lift you, can you show everyone what you mean?”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Luke cautioned under his breath.

  “No, I’m serious,” Dave insisted. “I know exactly what Cathy means, and I think we ought to provide a quick demo.”

  Several boys began to stomp and clap sending a chorus of encouragement echoing throughout the hall. When Mabel began to pound a spoon against a pot lid, Catherine couldn’t help but laugh.

  “The skaters are moving, spinning, dancing across the ice,” she reminded Dave. “Their speed is part of the magic.”

  Dave motioned with his hands. “I’ll turn. Come on, let’s feed their pitifully starved imaginations.”

  Perhaps it was the bold graphics of his Rolling Stones T-shirt, but his proposition suddenly made perfect sense. Catherine laid her hand on his shoulder. Dave dipped slightly to grasp her knees and, seemingly without effort, raised her aloft. She arched her back, gazed up and lifted her arms in an elegant gesture that would have done an Olympic gold medalist proud.

  Dave turned in a slow circle and then set Catherine down to thunderous applause. Slightly flustered, she took a quick bow. “It’s merely a suggestion. Many of you must have better ideas of how angels might return to heaven. Now isn’t it time for lunch?”

  Luke had been right beside her moments before, but when she turned toward him, he was no longer there. Startled by his unexpected absence, she scanned the hall, but he’d simply disappeared as though he’d dropped through a trapdoor. Before she could make sense of that puzzling happenstance, Polly rushed up to her.

  “That was so beautiful,” Polly gushed. “You make me wish I could ice skate.”

  “I can’t skate either,” Catherine readily admitted. She tried to smile, but Luke’s abrupt departure had thoroughly dampened the exhilaration she’d felt in Dave’s arms. Clearly Luke had shown his disapproval of their stunt with his feet, and she couldn’t have been more insulted.

  Polly, however, was staring up at her with an awestruck admiration, and she refused to be as rude as Luke had just been to her. “Do you like to draw?” she asked.

  “I love it, but all I’ve ever been good at is flowers. My people don’t look much better than stick figures.”

  Catherine took Polly’s elbow and urged her toward the lunch line. “I’m sure we’ll need decorative elements. Draw your best blossoms, and I’ll find a place for them.”

  “Oh, thank you, I will.”

  “Where’s Nick?” Catherine asked. She looked around but saw no sign of him either.

  “He’s limping around somewhere,” Polly replied. “He’ll be along soon. Spaghetti is his favorite meal.”

  “Mabel’s is awfully good, isn’t it? Excuse me, I want to make certain she has plenty of help to serve.”

  Catherine sidestepped the line to enter the kitchen where she’d hoped to find Luke, but again met with disappointment. Only the best magicians could vanish with the speed he’d displayed, and she feared he must have left the hall at a run.

  Whatever appetite she might have had for lunch had fled with him. Alice and Betty were there again so Mabel had volunteers to serve and Catherine took cleanup. Scrubbing pots and pans proved to be positively therapeutic and by the time the lunch hour was over, she’d paved over Luke’s haughty rejection with the determination to create the best mural the citizens of Los Angeles had ever seen.

  In the hall, Dave had laid the roll of butcher paper at the end of a long table, and he was tearing off generous sections. Several kids were already seated at the tables, either arguing about where to begin, or like Polly, who had found Nick, doodling with the new colored pencils.

  Catherine walked ar
ound to offer words of encouragement, but she was shocked to find Sheila, the black girl with the dreadlocks, blocking out a design with Frankie, whom she’d accused of plotting to steal her boyfriend Jamal.

  “Have you two become friends?” she asked.

  “Sure, why not?” Frankie replied, and the buzz-cut blonde went right on sketching an angel with enormous purple wings.

  If they’d forgotten all about Jamal, Catherine chose not to provide a reminder and promptly moved on. When she returned to the table holding the supplies, Rafael was leaning against it and arguing with Dave.

  “What’s the problem?” she asked.

  “He claims he needs twice as much paper as everyone else,” Dave replied. “Naturally, I don’t agree.”

  Rafael leaned close to Catherine and whispered, “I’m twice as good as everyone else, so I deserve more paper.” He straightened up, and his spiked hair made him Dave’s equal in height. “Give me two sheets if you have to.”

  Catherine doubted Rafael was as good as his boast, but she hated to discourage anyone on the first day of the project. “Let’s give him whatever he needs, Dave. We’ll just buy another roll of butcher paper if we run out, which I doubt.”

  Dave still appeared skeptical. “Are you really that good?” he asked.

  Rafael responded with a wicked grin. “I’m a fucking Picasso. Give me the paper, and you’ll see.”

  “Watch your language,” Dave scolded, but he tugged on the roll, drew out at least three times the length he’d given everyone else and handed it over. “I can’t wait until Friday.”

  “Me neither.” Rafael grabbed up a box of colored pencils and walked out of the hall in a cocky strut.

  “Do you suppose he’s any good?” Dave inquired softly.

  “For all our sakes, I certainly hope so,” she responded, but she wondered if Rafael’s angels wouldn’t be holding knives. Luke had not placed anything off-limits, but when she found Tina Stassy drawing an angel and a winged cat scrounging through garbage cans, she thought he might be real sorry he hadn’t.

  She remained in the hall all afternoon. Dave cruised through every half hour or so sometimes toting a mop, hedge clippers, or broom. When Luke failed to put in an appearance before the time his afternoon group was scheduled to begin in the sanctuary, she called it a day. She congratulated everyone on their progress, went straight to the parking lot without stopping by the office and drove home.