A Portrait of Emily

by J. P. Bowie

  “Hey, how did that sitting go with Peter today?” Jerry asked. Emily had been too quiet in the car and he wanted to get her mind off what had just happened.

  “He seemed pleased with it. He’s a really nice guy. Very easy to talk to.”

  “That’s good. He didn’t strike me as the arrogant type.”

  “No, he’s not. He did his best to relax me.” She paused then said, “Just promise me you won’t want to have a huge ‘unveiling’ like Gloria had. I couldn’t stand all that fuss.”

  Jerry chuckled. “No, I know that’s not your style. By the way, I forgot to mention that Anthony offered his congratulations on our engagement.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Came over and shook my hand. Almost smiled. I was so surprised I asked him to join us for dinner, but he said he had plans.”

  “He always has plans, Jerry. I very rarely see him anymore.”

  “Well, he did seem concerned about you.”

  “We used to be very close until he went to military school. Since he came back he’s not been the same. I think something happened there and he’s not willing to talk about it to me—or anyone. Of course, our father only makes it worse by yelling at him.”

  “What about your mother. Is he closer to her?”

  “He always was her favorite. But he’s pulled away from her too. They don’t fight or argue. He’s always polite to her, just kind of evasive. She’s always asking where he spends his time and he never gives her a straight answer. I know it really bugs her.”

  Jerry listened attentively. What a strange atmosphere they had all created for each other. All of them living separate lives under one roof. Never sharing, never confiding in one another. Just existing in a cold and unloving environment. No wonder Emily was afraid of her feelings and emotions.

  He pulled up in front of a restaurant they both liked and parked the car. He reached across and took her hand in his, kissing her palm, and holding it against his cheek. Utterly touched by this show of affection, Emily’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “I love you Jerry,” she whispered. “Please, always love me.”

  “That’s the one thing you never have to worry about.” Jerry leant over to kiss her. “Now, let’s go eat.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Anthony returned home later that evening, he found his mother waiting up for him.

  He’d known this was going to happen sooner or later, and now he braced himself for the confrontation he knew was unavoidable. He and his mother had always been very close. Despite his feeling of betrayal when she had not resisted his father’s decision to send him to military school, he could not stop loving her. She was weak, and totally under her husband’s control, but he knew she loved him in her own way. She just wasn’t brave enough to face his father’s anger should she ever have dared contradict any of his decisions.

  He stepped down into the living room, smiling at his mother as she rose from her chair by the window and came to greet him.

  “Hi, Mom. Why are you still up?”

  “You know why, darling.” She accepted his perfunctory kiss on her cheek then took his hand and led him over to her chair. He perched himself on the window seat and as his mother sat down. She smiled sadly at her handsome son.

  “Anthony…you seem to be spending a lot of time away from home.” It was obvious to him she was choosing her words carefully. “I know things are very strained between you and your father right now and frankly, I’m worried about you too.”

  “Dad’s not worried about me, Mother. He’s just pissed off that I won’t do what he wants. Mainly, join him in the business. Well, I have no intentions of bowing to that wish of his. I’ll make up my own mind what I’ll do with my life.”

  “And just what is it you are doing with your life, Anthony?” His mother leaned back in her chair, elegantly crossing her ankles, waiting for his reply.

  “Right now? I’m enjoying myself. Making up for lost time, for the years when enjoying myself was next to impossible because of the archaic regimen and discipline that god-awful place I was forced into branded into me.” He glared angrily over his mother’s head, as if directing the conversation at his

  father whom he knew was upstairs in his room. “I’m free now and I’ll be damned if he will ever tell me what to do again.”

  “Anthony…” His mother looked nervously round the room. “Please don’t shout.”

  “I’m sorry Mom, I really am. None of that was your fault, but please don’t ask me to give in to what he wants. You, of all people, should know what happens when you do.”

  Patricia Hastings’ face clouded at his words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, come on, of course you do. You think I don’t know what went on here for years? Thank God Paula got out and now it looks as if Emily has found someone decent to look after her at last.”

  His mother’s face twisted into an expression of disapproval. “I don’t really want to talk about the girls. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

  “You should be concerned for all of us, Mom—and for yourself. My father has done irreparable harm to this family. It’s no wonder we all walk around ignoring each other. We’re all so damned— damaged.”

  “What are you saying?” His mother looked stricken. “Did something happen at military school?”

  “Nothing that didn’t happen to me long before I went there.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ask Daddy dearest about that. He has all the answers, though I doubt whether he’d be too willing to let you in on this little dirty secret of his.” He rose from his seat by the window. “I’m going to bed.” He bent to kiss his mother goodnight.

  She held him for a moment and whispered, “Tell me he didn’t do those terrible things to you.”

  “No mother, he didn’t.”

  She wanted to feel relief in what he had just said, but that inflection left her wondering with dread just what it was her husband had done.

  On his way to his room, Anthony noticed a light shining under Emily’s door. For a moment he hesitated, then walked slowly over and tapped gently on the door.

  “Yes?” His sister’s voice sounded wary.

  “Emily, it’s Anthony.” He heard a key being turned then she opened the door for him.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Old habits die hard.”

  They stood looking at one another for a moment then, almost shyly, Anthony put his arms round his sister and hugged her.

  “Can we talk a little?”

  “Of course. Come on in.”

  She sounded surprised, Anthony noted, and for that he couldn’t blame her. He followed her into her room. She curled up on the bed and he sat down beside her.

  “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being a better brother. For not telling you how much I missed you when I was away. For not telling you how happy I am for you now. That guy of yours seems really nice.”

  “Thank you.” Emily smiled at him and touched his hand. “I missed you too. Was it really terrible there?”

  “Pretty terrible. It could have been worse though. I did have a friend who helped me through some of the roughest times.” He paused then continued. “Without him, it would have seemed an even bigger waste of my life.”

  “Are you still in touch with your friend?”

  “No, he was killed in a plane crash a few months ago. His brother was giving him flying lessons. Something went wrong with the plane. They were both killed.”

  “Oh, Anthony…”

  “It wrecked me. I couldn’t function for weeks. I didn’t realize how much I had depended on him until he was gone. How much I loved him, Emily.”

  She looked at her brother, a sudden realization dawning on her.

  “His name was Mark,” he added softly.

  “Oh Anthony, I’m so sorry.” She put her arms around him and he rested his head on her shoulder.

  “It’
s okay, Sis, I’m all cried out on that one.” She tightened her arms around him and he proved himself a liar as she felt his body tremble with his grief. “Jesus…” He pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I didn’t come here to talk about this. I wanted to talk about you and Jerry.”

  “I’m just glad you wanted to talk, period. It’s been too long. You don’t know how much this means to me, having you here, talking just like old times.”

  “So, how’s it going with the boyfriend?”

  “He’s terrific, Anthony. You’ll like having him for a brother-in-law.”

  “He asked me to join you guys for dinner and I felt like a jerk for saying no, but you probably wanted to be alone anyway.”

  “Tonight it might have been better if you’d come with us.”

  “How come?”

  “Oh…nothing really. Just a difference of opinion, but we smoothed it out.”

  “Lover’s spat?” Anthony smiled at her. “You’ll have lots of them.”

  “Jerry’s not the ‘spatting’ kind fortunately.”

  “Well, I better let you get to sleep.” Anthony slid off the bed and stood for a moment, smiling down as his sister.

  Emily took his hand. “Let’s do a lot more of this, please?”

  “You bet.” He kissed her then turned to go. “Sweet dreams,” he said as he closed the door.

  Sleep eluded Anthony. He was glad he’d finally talked to his sister, though he had not intended to open up to her like that. He’d held in his grief about losing Mark the whole time he’d been home. Obviously his parents wouldn’t have understood. He should have known Emily would, though. She had always been his supporter, even more so than Paula. The three of them had had their share of fights and squabbles, but Emily and he had always been the first to make up. Paula could pout longer than anyone else he’d ever known when she didn’t get her way.

  He remembered the horror he’d felt when his sisters confided in him with what their father was doing to them. He remembered hoping that somehow his father would die so that his sisters would be saved. He’d even plotted to kill him himself, but he was only nine years old and the intricacies of committing the perfect crime were beyond him. He would lie awake at night dreaming of the several ways he could carry it out, but in each scenario he would be found out. For a time he considered it might be worthwhile being caught if it saved his sisters, but when he mentioned it to them they forbade him to ever try anything that would put him in danger.

  “We couldn’t bear it if they took you away,” Emily had cried, begging him to forget these ideas. He knew she was lying when she added, “It’s not so bad really. It’s only a few minutes.”

  When he told his mother what he knew, she had laughed at him and told him his sisters were just dreaming. “Just dreaming that’s all, Anthony. Forget all about their naughty dreams.” But he never could forget, even when the abuse stopped. He still wanted to kill his father; and his animosity and dislike unnerved the man to the extent that he’d shipped his son off to military school as soon as he was old enough to be enrolled. Six years of that harsh life changed Anthony, but never dimmed his hatred for his father.

  The only saving grace in all that time was his relationship with Mark. When he closed his eyes he could still see that sunny smile that lit up Mark’s face and warmed the core of Anthony’s heart. He remembered that feeling of overpowering joy the first time Mark had told him how he felt about him. He wasn’t alone anymore. Here was someone who wanted to hold him, kiss him, make love to him, and make him feel like the most special person in the world. It made up for all the mind numbing boredom, the grinding routine and discipline that the Academy inflicted on him. Their time spent together alone gave Anthony hope that his life would be forever joined to Mark’s. He had not foreseen the tragedy that would one day take Mark away from him forever.

  He lay, one hand idly stroking his chest, remembering the sweet sensations of Mark’s soft lips on his, the strong yet tender hands that stroked and caressed him…the murmured words of love. Those words echoed in his mind. He would never forget them, nor the man who had gazed into his eyes and whispered, “I love you, Anthony. I love you…”

  Anthony’s hand slid down his torso to grasp the erection that had sprung so quickly and unbidden between his thighs. He stroked the hard length, all the while picturing Mark’s supple body as it had lain over him the last time they’d made love. That beautiful body would be forever embedded in his memory; sculpted muscles moving gracefully under smooth golden skin.

  Anthony writhed at the memory of Mark’s lips tracing a sensuous pattern over his skin, his mouth parting to take him in, to drink him down. He relived that moment when they had come into one another’s mouths. He moaned, feeling his balls tighten. His breath caught in his chest as the electric charge of his orgasm raced up the length of his cock. Hot semen exploded onto his chest.

  “Mark,” he said when his breathing had once again calmed, “I miss you so much.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Peter was looking forward to seeing Emily again for her next sitting. He was pleased with the preliminary work and when Eve had dropped by earlier he had let her see it.

  “What a lovely girl. Such beautiful hair.”

  “Yes, she’s very attractive and doesn’t seem to be aware of it at all. It’s almost as if she thinks she’s quite plain.”

  “False modesty?”

  “No, no, I don’t think it’s that. I get the feeling she believes herself to be unattractive.”

  “Why on earth would she believe that?”

  “Well, the parents are a bit cold. Jeff and I thought the father was not the kind of man to throw compliments around. Might even be a bit cruel in his way.”

  “What a shame. But you said she’s engaged?”

  “Yes, and he seems to be a nice guy. They make a great couple.”

  When Emily arrived Peter introduced her to Eve, who made a point of complimenting her on her appearance.

  “Your mother is so sweet,” Emily said after Eve left.

  “She’s the best,” Peter agreed. “How’s Jerry?”

  “Oh, he’s swell. Says to tell you and Jeff hello and he’s dying to see how the portrait’s shaping up. His words Peter, not mine.”

  Peter chuckled. “Well, you tell him it’s shaping up just fine. Come and look.”

  Emily stood by his side and stared quietly at her likeness. “Do you really see me like that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, look at my hair. You’ve made it so dark and rich looking. I’ve always thought of it as ordinary.”

  “Now look here young lady, this has got to stop.”

  “Excuse me?” Emily looked at him in surprise.

  “This—putting yourself down all the time. You are a very attractive young woman, blessed with the most gorgeous hair I’ve seen in a long time. Some women would kill for your hair. Plus you have lovely blue eyes. Hell, doesn’t Jerry ever tell you this stuff?”

  Emily blushed. “Yes, all the time, but I…”

  “Well, believe him. Because he’s right.” He patted her arm gently. “Now go sit over there and no more self-flagellation today, if you don’t mind.”

  Emily sat demurely on the chaise lounge and Peter grinned at her. Their eyes met and once more Peter was momentarily stunned by the connection that was made. For a moment he thought he could see a look of terror on her face, but just as quickly the vision faded.

  Where did these sensations come from?

  Ever since he recovered from the coma he’d been aware that somehow that trauma had awakened in him some kind of paranormal sense. For a time he’d attributed it to his conviction that Phillip had, in a sense, helped him put his life together again; that he was leading Peter to discover who was responsible for the cowardly actions that had changed their lives forever. But these strange sensations had not stopped, even after the mystery was solved, for here again it seemed he could see and feel what most
everyone else could not.

  “You all right, Peter?” Emily’s concern was etched on her face.

  “Yes…” He picked up his brush and busied himself with color mixing. “Just daydreaming—sorry.”

  He worked in silence for a time, but his mind whirled as he tried to fathom just what had happened a moment before. He was reticent about asking Emily too many personal questions. She would have all the right in the world to tell him to mind his own business and yet he felt there was something she wanted to tell him. What she did say next floored him.

  “Do you know any nice single gay men, Peter?”

  “What?”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Uh, well, not many. One or two maybe. Why do you ask?”

  “This is going to sound like I’m being a busybody, but well…my brother Anthony is gay and, I think, very unhappy. You see, his friend was killed a few months ago and I just found all this out the other night. We hadn’t really talked since he got back home and then he came in and told me all this stuff and I didn’t have a clue, which made me feel bad because I thought I knew him, and there’s this whole part of his life I knew nothing about and I felt if I’d been more accessible he’d have had someone to talk to before—as it is, he’s been really upset all the time I’ve been so happy with Jerry….”

  She paused for breath and Peter, putting his brush down, walked over and sat beside her on the chaise lounge. This was not what he had expected to hear, but at least it was a situation he knew a lot about.

  “His friend who died. Were they lovers?”

  “Yes, I think so. He said he never knew how much he depended on him, or how much he loved him, until he was gone.”

  “Jeez, the poor guy.”

  “He said he was so happy for me and Jerry, but Peter, he has to be really hurting inside.”

  “Does he have any friends?”

  “I don’t think so, at least not close ones. He goes out every night almost, but he won’t tell anyone where he’s going.”

  Peter could imagine what Anthony might be doing; looking for love in all the wrong places, just like that old song said.

  “Why don’t you, Jerry, and Anthony come over for dinner one night? Just a casual thing—no big deal.”