A Portrait of Emily (12 page)

Patricia thumbed back through some of the earlier entries and discovered they went back only a month or two. Years ago she had discovered a journal of Emily’s, filled with details of her father’s nightly visits to her bedroom. Furiously, she had ripped it to pieces and flung it in her daughter’s face, screaming at her to stop imagining this filth. She had thought then that it would end there, but obviously she’d been wrong. Emily must have gone on writing in secret and hiding her journals…but where?

My God!
If anyone should ever read them and believe that what she has written
is true…

Kneeling, she looked under the bed to see if there were any more volumes tucked away, but found none. Emily must have dropped this one in her haste to leave tonight. Couldn’t wait to rub herself all over that Jerry, probably. Patricia sneered at what she perceived to be her daughter’s foolishness.

Let her marry the man and then find out just what a pig he really is
.
It’ll serve her right
…
all men are swine
,
disgusting pigs that rut
and slobber over you, then leave you at the drop of some other pretty girl’s pants!
All men
—
except my darling Anthony
.

How she wished he would show confidence in her the way he used to. It wasn’t her fault Charles had sent him to military school. What was it Emily had referred to in this last entry? What had he been through? Why wouldn’t he confide in her instead of Emily?

“Damn her,” she muttered. “First she takes my husband from me—and now my son.”

Angrily, she flung the journal down on the floor and left the room, slamming the door behind her. She crossed the landing to her room, unlocked her dresser’s bottom drawer, and pulled out a small locked box. Some years before, she had stolen one of Emily’s journals. It was filled with the same crazy imaginings she had berated the girl for earlier, but this time she had not torn it up. She had read it through and had taken some kind of twisted pleasure from Emily’s fear. She had not read since then, but now she felt impelled to reread and
relish
Emily’s account of the nightmare both she and her sister endured for all those years.

§ § § §

Peter looked at Eve with admiration as she stood in the middle of the living room talking animatedly with his three guests. Elegant and vivacious as ever, it was hard to believe she was even old enough to be his mother. More like an older sister, really. Emily was gazing at her almost with adoration and Peter knew without a doubt she was comparing Eve with her own mother. Poor Patricia wouldn’t come out of that comparison very favorably.

Peter walked over to the group carrying their drinks on a tray. “Here we are,” he said, bowing slightly like a good maitre d’. “Chardonnay for the ladies, Scotch and water for you Jerry, and a vodka tonic for Anthony.”

“Thank you.” Emily winked at him over her glass. “Where’s Jeff?”

“Oh, he’s running a little late. And I asked him to stop and pick up some more wine for dinner. He’ll be here shortly.”

Anthony took the proffered glass. “Thanks for inviting me, Peter. You have such a great house and that painting over the fireplace is to die for. It’s so…powerful.”

He looked again at the seascape Peter had painted years earlier. Its dramatic sweep and color never failed to inspire admiration from its viewers.

“Yes.” Eve couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice as she said, “I think it’s my favorite of all Peter’s paintings, that and of course…the portrait of Phillip.”

“Phillip?” Anthony looked at them quizzically.

“My lover, Phillip. He died…was murdered, some years ago.”

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry. Did the police—?”

“I’d rather not talk about it tonight,” Peter interjected with a quick smile at Anthony. “Some other time perhaps. This is a party, so let’s drink to new friends.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief as Jeff entered the living room and greeted everyone in his usual affable style, but Peter could not help but notice the expressions of puzzlement followed by the shock of recognition that appeared for a few moments on the faces of the two men as he introduced Anthony to Jeff.

The moment passed and Jeff said, “Pleased to meet you, Anthony.”

Anthony managed a faint smile as they shook hands.

“So, Mr. Bartender…” Jeff took Peter’s arm and steered him toward the kitchen. “Where’s my libation?”

“What’s up?” Peter whispered once they were alone and he was fixing Jeff’s drink.

“You won’t believe this—that’s the kid Joey has photographs of in his studio. The one he’s crazy about.”

“
Anthony
? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure—and I could tell he recognized me—probably from the portraits Joey has on the walls. When I looked at those photos of him, I thought I’d seen him before, but of course, it was the family resemblance. He and Emily have that same great bone structure.”

They were suddenly aware they were no longer alone. Anthony was standing in the kitchen doorway. He cleared his throat as he slowly walked toward them.

“Small world isn’t it?”

“It is that.”

Peter looked from one man to the other and tried to think of something he could say to lighten the atmosphere. He couldn’t think of a thing.

“Uh…” Anthony was the first to break the stalemate. “I’m sorry if this has upset you.”

“No, not at all,” Jeff assured him. “Just surprising, is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to see here tonight.”

Anthony smiled wryly. “I could say the same thing.”

Peter suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath for way too long. He let it out with such force that both Jeff and Anthony turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Relax Peter,” Jeff squeezed Peter’s arm, “I don’t think Anthony is going to challenge me to a duel or anything.”

Anthony chuckled. “I don’t think there’s anything to duel about do you?”

“What a coincidence though,” Peter said. “Both of you knowing Joey and having relationships with him—I mean, not you Jeff, at least not now…”

“I wouldn’t call what Joey and I have a relationship.” Anthony shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in several days as a matter of fact.”

“Well, that’s none of our business.” Jeff refilled his glass. “And we should save any more talk of it for later, if ever. Right now we have guests and they’ll be wondering what the heck we’re all doing in here. Let’s go back in.”

“You’re right.” Anthony held his glass out for a refill. “I certainly don’t want to spoil the evening for us all.”

Peter made Anthony another drink then said, “You two go on back in. I’m going to prepare the salad and get things rolling here.”

Dinner was a success despite the earlier distraction and Peter was pleased to see Emily so relaxed and enjoying herself. He was also gratified to notice that Jerry paid her a lot of attention. Again, he thought they made a great couple. Surely Jerry’s feelings wouldn’t change if she told him of her father’s abuse? It was obvious he was very much in love with her. Peter watched as Jerry recounted a business story and Emily hung on his every word. Lost in his thoughts, he was unaware that his mother was looking at him curiously until she touched his arm.

“Where are you, Peter?” she asked.

“Right here, don’t worry Mom.” He smiled then said quietly, “I was just thinking what a great looking couple Jerry and Emily make.”

“Yes, they are both very sweet, and her brother seems like a very nice young man.”

“Mmm…I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

“Really? You don’t like him?”

“Oh yes. I just think there’s a lot more there than meets the eye. Bit of a dark horse, I think.”

“Really?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Jeff fixed them both with a stern look. “Didn’t your mothers tell you it’s rude to whisper in company?”

“I was merely congratulating Peter on his dinner,” Eve said, hedging. “I didn’t want to embarrass him by singing his praises too loudly.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Jeff gave them both an “I know better” look. “I’ll talk to you two,
later
,” he muttered into his wineglass.

“Hey, Peter.” Jerry grinned at him across the table. “Why don’t you show us Emily’s portrait?”

“Because it’s not finished.”

“Oh, come on, please, please,
please
.”

“Jerry…”

“
Pretty
please?”

“Oh, for goodness sake.” Peter rose from the table. “I can’t stand
begging
.”

“Yay!” Jerry jumped to his feet. “Begging always works.”

Laughing, they trooped up to the studio where Peter turned on the lights and removed the oilcloth that covered Emily’s portrait.

“Wow,” Anthony murmured. “You look beautiful, Sis.”

Jerry stood with his arm around Emily’s waist, gazing at the portrait of his fiancée in silence. Then, much to Peter’s surprise, he flung his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“You’re a genius Peter—a
genius
.”

“Does this mean you like it?”

Jerry released him and turned to look at the painting again. “
Like
it? That doesn’t even come close. You’ve captured her very
essence
. The beauty inside her. Oh, Emily…” He looked at her with tears in his eyes. “Jesus, I’m making a fool of myself,” he said, his face flooding with color.

“You’re the sweetest guy in the world.” Emily hugged him back. “Now enough. That’s about as much attention as I can stand in one night.”

Later, their guests gone, Jeff poured a nightcap for Peter and himself. “Well, I don’t think Jerry liked your painting very much.”

“He really is a great guy. I think they’ll be very happy together, don’t you?”

“Totally.” He handed Peter his glass and they sat together on the couch. “Now, what were you and your co-conspirator whispering about earlier?”

“Anthony. Mom said she thought he was very nice and I said I thought he was a bit of a dark horse.”

“You think so? Is that your psychic self talking?”

“Maybe. I mean, he seems very nice, but what kind of guy runs around with someone like Joey?”

“Excuse me?” Jeff looked at Peter, his eyebrows raised. “You’re talking to the guy who lived with Joey for four years, remember?”

“That was different. You were young then. Joey hadn’t had time to grow into the user he is now.”

“Wait a minute; you’re assuming an awful lot aren’t you? Yeah, it’s true that Joey’s self centered, scheming, and money hungry, but—well, okay, I see what you mean.”

They both laughed then Peter said, “Makes you wonder why Anthony would bother with someone so shallow.”

“Probably the sex. Joey was very good in the sack.”

“How good?”

“Never mind how good. Not as good as you, of course,” he added quickly.

“Do you still have feelings for Joey?”

“No, I do not.” Jeff rubbed Peter’s thigh. “Don’t ever worry about that. I love you and only you.”

§ § § §

Anthony left Emily and Jerry to say their goodnights and went up to his room. It had been an interesting evening without a doubt. Despite the surprise of seeing Jeff face to face under those circumstances, he liked the guy and his partner, Peter.

What
a talent that guy has
, he thought taking off his shirt. He guessed he should have mentioned to them that he had not told Joey his real name. Not that it probably mattered. They didn’t seem to be in touch with Joey on a regular basis. Besides, he was going to tell Joey he couldn’t see him anymore. He’d made his mind up the last time they’d been together. Joey just wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, he was good-looking and great in bed, but there was no substance, no real connection.

Not like the one he’d had with Mark. He’d probably never find that again with any guy. That had been special. Mark had been a special person. Like Jerry. Emily was very lucky to have him. He’d look after her for sure. He was almost envious of his sister, but she deserved to have this happiness. A sudden, insistent tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened the door and Emily slipped in, closing it behind her. She was holding her journal.

“Someone’s been in my room while we were out.”

Anthony slipped on a t-shirt. “Are you sure?”

“The door was unlocked. I always lock it when I’m out of the house and at night when I go to bed.”

“Maybe you just forgot to lock it tonight. We did leave in a bit of a hurry.”

Emily thought for a moment. “No, I’m sure I locked it. My journal was lying on the floor. Someone could have read it…”

Anthony wanted to calm his sister down, but he would not put it past either of his parents to go snooping around when they knew he and Emily were out.

“Jeez Sis,” he said. “Did it look like your journal had been read?”

“I don’t know.” Emily frowned at the journal in her hand. “I could kick myself for leaving it out. I never do, but when Jerry arrived—like you said, we left immediately. It must have fallen off the bed. Maybe I
could
have left the door unlocked, but it makes me sick to think my father might have been in my room looking around,
touching
my things. If he read what I wrote in this journal, he’ll see it in black and white how much I loathe him. Not that I care about that so much, but he might use it to get between Jerry and me.”

“You put that much in there?”

“I’ve been keeping these journals for years. All the stuff that happened is in there. I’ve got them hidden away. Remember when mother found one and ripped it to pieces, screaming at me that I’d made it all up?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Then I lost one, or she stole it, and probably ripped that one up too, but I rewrote everything and kept it truly hidden.”

“Where do you keep them, Emily?”

Emily gazed at her brother wondering if she could trust him with this vital information. She studied his face for a moment. His concern had brought back that stern look that reminded her so much of her father, and she shivered involuntarily at the likeness. Instantly, she felt she was being unfair. Anthony was nothing like his father—even though he had inherited the older man’s tendency to adopt a cool and unfriendly expression when worried about something.