Butterflies in Heat (50 page)

Ruthie Elvina turned around, slowly sipping her tall drink. "Teddy hallucinates," she said to Numie, wiping the sweat from her thick upper lip. "Alcohol's bad for the brain." She looked back in disdain. "Pay no attention to him."

The argument ended as Leonora appeared. She stood in the shadow of the doorway, her face chalk white, her large eyes heavily coated with mascara. Hanging from her slender frame was a robe of coral and jade embroidery on black satin.
It
was an old Chinese theatrical costume. Gently adjusting the coral comb in her hair, she gracefully crossed the bricks on her coral satin slippers, heading for her guests. "Forgive me for being so late. I'm incorrigible. No, don't deny it." Her hand darted through the air in an undefined gesture. "I'm simply incorrigible. Reminds me of the time I inadvertently kept Queen Mary waiting for an hour." In the hot glare, she paused. A sharp pain shot through her side. That was such an obvious lie. Why did she tell it?
It
just slipped out, that's why. Since she'd last seen Ruthie Elvina, her own history was spectacular enough. Yet she could never resist putting gilt on the lily. But why Queen Mary? Why not someone more believable? Already she could see the eyes of Ruthie Elvina boring into her.

"As I live and breathe, you look fantastic," Ruthie Elvina said, hoisting her fleshy body across the patio. "You haven't changed a bit in fifty years."

"Neither have you," Leonora lied. My God, she thought. Even though they were the same age, Ruthie Elvina was a prehistoric relic on her last legs. Gently Leonora brushed her lips against Ruthie Elvina's hot, fleshy cheek, too heavily painted with rouge. The woman's cheap perfume offended Leonora's more sensitive nostrils. Leonora stared into the fallen face. Now her nervousness was ebbing. She was beginning to relish this moment, the coming together after all these years with her old high school rival. The beauty queen, Ruthie Elvina Saunders, versus the ugly duckling, Priscilla Osterhoudt. Now the roles were reversed. Ruthie Elvina was still Ruthie Elvina, the widow of the late Captain Bray, but Priscilla Osterhoudt had gone from Mrs. Norton Huttnar to Leonora de la Mer.

"This is Teddy Albury," Ruthie Elvina said. For some reason, she seemed to be sweating more heavily than ever.

"Theodore," he corrected, his voice slurred. He tried to rise from the chair, but fell back.

"Don't get up," Leonora added quickly. Then she looked at Numie. His face was blank. Was he bored? She was certain of it. Did all of them look like patients in a geriatrics ward to Numie?

Numie avoided Leonora's eyes. Now that Ralph had kicked him out, he was uncertain of his position at Sacre-Coeur. He must keep from making Leonora angry, though the task seemed impossible. "May I get you a drink?" he asked.

"No, darling, a smoke," Leonora said. Her dreams had been so unrefreshing the night before, and her day so horrid, that she was floundering right in front of everybody. What a day to encounter Ruthie Elvina Bray after half a century.

"What color?" Numie asked, fearing Leonora was itching for a fight and would use any excuse to attack him.

She glanced at her garden and the flowers growing there. "I feel in a rose mood today."

Into her wooden box and out with a marijuana cigarette, Numie crossed the patio and handed it to Leonora, then lit
it
for her.

She sucked in the smoke and sat up stiffly in her favorite peacock chair.

"What lovely cigarette paper you have," Ruthie Elvina said, "and what a distinct aroma. I pride myself on knowing a thing or two about tobacco—my captain taught me—but I've never smelled that particular brand before."

"It's Turkish," Leonora said.

"Oh!" Ruthie Elvina said. "Well, I love the color anyway." She sighed heavily, sitting down. "Rose, like the roses in this pretty garden." At the mention of roses, a frown crossed her face. "Roses remind me of my sister, Minnie."

"I remember her well," Leonora said. Her voice had a slow, nasal rendering. She was trying to disguise it, but her hatred of Ruthie Elvina was only exceeded by her equally loathsome sister, Minnie.

Ruthie Elvina paused with a deliberate awkwardness, as if trying to fathom what Leonora meant by her last remark. "Minnie was the rose of the family," she said.

Leonora coughed on the smoke. On a day like today she was not prepared to listen to a story glorifying Minnie.

"You shouldn't smoke so much," Ruthie Elvina said pressing on with her story. "My daddy called me in one day and sat me down right beside him." Her eyes tried to attract Leonora's, but they were lost roaming the garden. "My daddy told me he wasn't going to waste his time giving Minnie advice."

"Why was that, dear?" Leonora asked, being deliberately provocative. "I would imagine any young girl would be in dire need of advice from her father."

Ruthie Elvina stopped in the middle of her story. Her face reflected her puzzlement. She leaned forward in her chair and continued, "Seeing that Minnie was such a beautiful rose, and roses have a way of getting plucked—even those a bit faded." Her voice drifted off.

Realizing the story was at Ruthie Elvina's expense, Leonora was suddenly eager for more details.

"My daddy warned me," Ruthie Elvina said, "that I'd better pay attention to my books. And pick up all the feminine tricks I could on the side, 'cause I was just a great big waxy magnolia." She made petals out of her fingers, outlining the frame of her face. "And great big waxy magnolias need all the help they can get in this world."

Leonora laughed with relish, until she realized her voice was too harsh. "I can hardly believe that story," Leonora said, now savoring every moment of it. "You know yourself you were voted the most popular girl in school and were the queen of the prom."

"Popular, yes," Ruthie Elvina replied, "but I never thought I was much of a beauty."

"You were," Leonora said, "especially in that bathing suit you wore." She was sucking in the smoke rapidly. Having dreaded Ruthie Elvina's appearance today, she was now enjoying it—the most fun she'd had all summer. "First beauty contest ever held in Tortuga. All the boys said you had the prettiest legs in town."

She stared at Ruthie Elvina's varicose legs, encased in support stockings. Her white molded shoes were planted solidly on brick. Her arches seemed to have fallen. The huge bulky mass of her legs gave no clue whatsoever that they were ever shapely.

Ruthie Elvina shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tucking her flowery dress over her chubby kneecaps. "No one at school knew back then that you'd go to New York and become so famous."

"If
I recall correctly, no one at school ever gave me much credit for anything," Leonora said. No sooner were the words out than she regretted them. That remark revealed the sting of rejection was still smarting. She recalled that the chief rejecter was Ruthie Elvina herself.

'"I'm sorry you feel that way," Ruthie Elvina said. "Everyone thought you were very smart—perhaps a little bit standoffish."

"Let's forget about these school girl memories," Teddy said, "and get down to the business at hand. Got to get home pretty soon. Time for my siesta."

"Yes," Leonora said, sitting up rigidly, "just why are you people here?" She dreaded their explanations.

Ruthie Elvina giggled nervously. Then with a flutter of her hands, she said, "We're planning an old island homecoming. All the important people born on this island are returning for an old island days tour."

Then she shifted in her chair, as if trying to conceal some irregularities in her own internal plumbing. "Naturally we couldn't conceive of a tour without including Sacre-Coeur."

Leonora was all ears!

"It's the grandest house on the island," Ruthie Elvina said. Just as a smile was starting to form at Leonora's lips, Ruthie Elvina delivered her punch line, "Except mine, of course."

Leonora's face, lit by a diffused radiance of the sun through a shade tree, turned pale as death. Ruthie Elvina was baiting her with that remark, and she was having a hard time not snapping at it. Sacre-Coeur, as everybody knew, was far more dazzling than Ruthie Elvina's broken-down, old clapboard, fading, sea-green relic would ever be. The fake portraits she hung on the wall, pretending they were ancestors! The reproductions passed off as heirloom antiques. "I don't allow strangers into Sacre-Coeur. My privacy must be protected."

"Just this one time," Ruthie Elvina countered, "I didn't think you'd mind. After all, you're our most famous homegrown daughter. Besides, I've already had the programs printed, and you're listed as part of the tour. You didn't return my phone calls, but I just knew you wouldn't want to be excluded."

A long silence. The hot sun was bad for Leonora. As a rule, she never appeared in it. Even the shadow in the patio wasn't sufficient to conceal her anger. At first, her voice faltered, then she regained her composure. ·"Are you sitting here telling me that people will be arriving at my house—whether I invited them or not? And you took it upon yourself to open Sacre-Coeur to the public, putting me on exhibit?"

"I know I should be tarred and feathered," Ruthie Elvina said, "but Sacre-Coeur's so important to the success of the tour. I feel just awful, but I know you'll cooperate:

In a voice cold as the winter wind, Leonora asked, "What did you ever do for me?"

Ruthie Elvina seesawed with uncertainty in her chair, not completely aware of the fury she'd provoked in Leonora. "I was your best friend in school:

"You were my worst enemy!" Leonora got up, throwing her cigarette onto the bricks. "I hated you then, and I hate you now: She'd always wanted to get even with Ruthie Elvina.
If
she could sabotage the old island tour, that would be striking back in some small way. Whatever she'd wanted in Tortuga—a prize, an invitation, a friend, whatever—Ruthie Elvina was always there first, grabbing it up.

"Surely you're mistaken," Ruthie Elvina said. "I've always admired you greatly."

"Get out!" Leonora screeched. "Both of you. Get out!"

I've got important business here," Teddy protested.

Ruthie Elvina heaved herself up from the chair. "But the programs are already printed."

"Print them again," Leonora said. Her hands were quivering, her facade of coolness shattered. Ruthie Elvina had
done
it
again—shown her up as vulnerable.

Ruthie Elvina reached into her purse. "Here's an invitation, " she said, handing it to Leonora.

At first Leonora stood motionless, then she reached out and gingerly accepted the envelope.

"You're invited to a party tonight aboard the Saskatchewan, " Ruthie Elvina said. "I remember when we were just young girls, and I didn't invite you to my sixteenth birthday party. I knew you wanted to come, and I was wrong to hurt you like that." She stood for a moment in grave silence, then she took a hesitant step toward Leonora.

Instinctively Leonora backed away. The more she heard Ruthie Elvina talk, the weaker she felt. For her, going back into the past with Ruthie Elvina was the same as taking her out in mid-ocean and abandoning her. In spite of her name, the lioness of the sea didn't swim.

"My captain served aboard the Saskatchewan, " Ruthie Elvina said, "and I'm sort of the unofficial hostess tonight." A quivering hand reached toward Leonora's.

Leonora concealed her hands within her robe, leaving Ruthie Elvina's hand dangling in the air.

"Please," Ruthie Elvina said, "let's forget the past. Accept the invitation. I know it's too late, and we can't make up for what's gone before. I did do things to hurt you. But life has made me pay." A sharp edge came over her voice. "Look at you now—and then look at me." Her lip trembled. "You've already got your revenge, Priscilla." After saying that, she turned to Teddy. "I know you've got something to tell her.
I'll
go on and call you tomorrow." She turned and waddled across the patio.

For one brief moment, Leonora wanted to run after her, throw her arms around Ruthie Elvina, and have a good cry. She knew she'd never see the old woman again. But as of this moment she'd stopped hating her. Instead she felt sorry for her. Ruthie Elvina, the big, waxy magnolia who'd bloomed too early. The petals were gone now.

Leonora herself had bloomed much later, and from that vantage point could afford to be forgiving. She hated herself for not being more charitable to her long-ago enemy, but was too paralyzed to do anything about it.

Leonora walked in her garden, wishing she was alone and freed of the drunken realtor. Ruthie Elvina had touched off painful memories.

Leonora remembered what she did the nights other children were playing or getting invited to parties. In her long black braids and middy dress, she'd design costumes for the house pets, a male cat she'd named Jennifer and a German shepherd, called Boulder. She'd decorate her bedroom with ribbons and crepe paper, then invite the animals. Jennifer would always tear up his costume, but Boulder never did, providing she kept feeding him.

"Let me have one more drink," Teddy said, stumbling over to her and interrupting her thoughts. "It'll take it to tell you what I've got to."

"Darling," Leonora said, "it's time for my afternoon massage." Nevertheless, her interest was piqued. "Numie, another cigarette. And get this gentleman another drink—whatever his poison." She seated herself stiffly in the peacock chair. "You're not the most beautiful thing in the world, and you look even less attractive when you're drunk. But I'll hear you out."