Beauty and the Brain (42 page)

“I’d better get out of bed. I suppose we
should put in an appearance at dinner tonight, or people might
begin to talk.” As far as she was concerned, they were welcome to
talk. As long as they didn’t talk outside of the motion-picture
set. She trusted her friends at Peerless.

“I’m afraid the dress you wore when you
helped George is wrinkled now, as well as dirty”

“That’s all right. I have lots of clothes.”
Her wardrobe was big enough to clothe all the orphans in New York
City, in fact. That was one of the primary reasons Brenda gave
money to her favorite charity in amounts equal to what she spent on
her elaborate togs. She needed fancy clothes in order to support
her profession, but supporting the orphans was more important to
her—and to the world.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Thanks, Colin.”

He must realize she was sore, in spite of
what she’d told him. But of course, he’d know that. He was well
versed in the scientific facts of life. He was probably thinking of
Brenda now as he might think about a scientific experiment in
mating among different species of animal life.

Because she felt a trifle embarrassed about
being naked in front of Colin now that the heat of passion had
passed, she pulled a sheet up to cover her breasts. He sighed, and
she glanced up at him quickly. He’d been surveying her unclad body.
Fair enough. If she hadn’t wanted him to look at it, she shouldn’t
have displayed it so freely. It was her own fault if he believed
her to be a hussy.

What a depressing notion. To counteract it,
she gave him another one of her patented good-guy grins. “Would you
be a real pal and get my dressing gown out of the closet, Colin?
It’s blue silk. You can’t miss it. It has a dragon on it.”

“I know what it looks like.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He’d seen her in it
before. That first time he’d tried to get into her drawers.

Brenda mentally smacked herself. If she
wanted to salvage anything of value from this experience, over and
above the admittedly smashing physical stuff, she was going to have
to drag her mind out of the gutter. It was imperative to cease
thinking of herself as abandoned and of Colin as a predator: It
wasn’t true. What they’d shared was special.

Wasn’t it?

Countless memories of other women—women not
as fortunate in the brains and beauty department as Brenda—swarmed
into her head. She couldn’t even recall the number of times she’d
comforted some poor, foolish female who’d believed a man’s
blandishments and allowed herself to be used.

Sweet Lord above, she wasn’t just another
one of those poor, stupid women, was she?

“Here. This is very pretty, Brenda. It
almost matches your eyes, although your eyes are much lovelier.”
Colin held the robe for her.

How sweet he was being. Brenda appreciated
it, since her mind seemed determined to, make something disgraceful
out of the love they’d just shared. If it was love and not a mere
sexual fling.

Stop it this minute!

Her sharp commandment did little to quiet
the tumult raging in her head. “Thanks, Colin.” She maintained her
smile until she’d shut the bathroom door behind her and turned on
the tap to fill the tub.

She’d probably only felt sorry for him. Why
else would so precious a woman allow him to go to bed with her?

Colin heard the water filling the tub in the
bathroom and wandered back to the window to stare outside some
more. This present plaguey mood was new to him. He was unaccustomed
to entertaining insecurities and doubts. Still rarer for him were
the dreamy moments that occasionally overtook his anxiety.

She was so wonderful. Perfect. She was
magnificent. The most delightful, gracious, brilliant, kindhearted,
ladylike, exciting, and seductive woman in the world. And she’d
allowed him—him—an eggheaded scholar, to make love to her. Colin
relived the past hour or two in his mind so many times, it began to
take on the quality of something mystical, almost holy.

Maybe, if he was very lucky, she’d allow him
to remain her friend. Perhaps she’d let him call on her from time
to time, if only to go to dinner together, or talk. Maybe she’d
still let him come over and tutor her in all the things she wanted
to learn. She truly did have an insatiable curiosity about the
things she’d never had an opportunity to study, as well as a
capable, curious mind. He knew better than to maintain the fiction
that she’d let him touch her again.

The very thought of marriage was out of the
question. It was laughable. Nonsensical. Idiotic. Colin was a fool
even to combine the name Brenda and the word marriage in the same
sentence.

He’d sunk into a total funk by the time
Brenda had bathed, dressed, and rejoined him. She looked, of
course, perfect. She looked as if no man had ever touched her.

They walked down to the Cedar Crest Lodge’s
dining room together, each absorbed in thoughts of his and her
own

Something had changed. Martin couldn’t put
his finger on exactly what it was, but it was something. He could
tell. He’d been dealing with actors, emotions, and story lines for
too long not to detect a difference in the relationship between
Brenda and Colin.

He’d also been dealing with human beings for
too long to believe the change was entirely for the good. If life
were a simple affair, as it was in the pictures, Brenda and Colin
would finally decide they were made for each other, get married,
and live happily ever after.

But could real life sail so smoothly?
Heavens, no. People always had to complicate everything. Martin,
watching closely as Brenda and Colin entered the dining room,
sighed. He had a suspicion that they’d become—ah—closer, this
afternoon. He had another suspicion that neither of them was
willing to accept his attraction to the other as a gift from God.
If they had the sense God gave a goose, they’d be happy.

They weren’t happy, either one of them. The
silly fools.

Considering his interference in this
instance as in the light of an act of mercy, Martin rose from his
table and gestured for the couple to join him

“I’m all by my lonesome tonight,” he said,
smiling up a storm in order to counteract the almost palpable aura
of gloom hovering over the couple. “I’d sure appreciate some
company.”

Brenda, bless her, managed to manufacture a
friendly smile. What a trouper the woman was. Martin esteemed her
as a real treasure. He hoped Colin would admit the same to himself
pretty soon, or he might lose her. Colin smiled, too, but he wasn’t
as good an actor as Brenda, and his smile came across as brittle
and forced,

“Thanks, Martin,” Brenda said in her best
light, bantering tone. “I’m famished.”

“I’m hungry, too.”

Martin eyed Colin sharply. The poor guy
looked so unhappy, Martin was surprised he’d even said that much.
Probably Brenda’s influence, he decided. He took a bet with himself
that Colin would push his food around on his plate and not eat a
bite. He had more faith in Brenda: She was never a big eater, but
she wouldn’t give her unhappiness away by pining and going into a
dramatic decline. She was tougher than that.

“I’ve already ordered. Chicken a la king.
They make a pretty good one here.”

“Sounds okay to me,” Brenda said brightly.
“I think I’ll, have the same. Colin?”

The look she gave him ought to have
convinced the fool that she loved him almost beyond bearing, Martin
thought with cynical amusement. But Colin, analytical as he was,
would probably interpret it as something else. Martin had always
suspected that scholars, if given the opportunity, could analyze
the life out of pretty much anything. This was the first time he’d
witnessed the process as it happened.

“Sure,” Colin said, sounding vague and not
altogether present, as if he was mulling over something else.
“Thanks. I mean, sure, I’ll have it.” He blinked uncertainly. “Er,
what was it again?”

Brenda patted his hand. “Chicken a la king.
They make a pretty good one here. Martin said so.”

“Oh. Oh, sure. That’ll be fine.”

Martin saw that Colin turned his hand over
and squeezed Brenda’s briefly. It looked to him as if the poor guy
would have liked to hold her hand all through dinner and didn’t
dare. It also looked to him as though Brenda would have loved it if
he had.

Whoo, boy, these two needed help.
Unfortunately. They were both adults, and Martin didn’t have a clue
how to help them.

Colin and Brenda visited George after
dinner. He was awake but groggy.

“How’s the arm feeling? Did that beastly
doctor come to see you like he promised?” Brenda grinned at the
boy, and spared a moment to be glad, although she also felt guilty
about it, that he’d broken the arm, since it gave her something to
think about besides Colin. All the thinking in the world wouldn’t
do anything to alter her situation with Colin, darn it.

George grinned up at her. Her heart gave a
squishy little lurch in appreciation of George’s game attempt at
good humor. He was a fine kid, even if he wasn’t behaving in a
fashion endorsed by the Peters clan

“The doctor says I’m going to be okay,”
George said. “And it doesn’t hurt too much. It’s better when I’m
drugged.”

Brenda laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. It’ll
probably hurt like heck for a while, but it’ll get better. Did the
doctor say if you’ll regain full use of it?”

George nodded. “Yes. I’m relieved, too. I
was really worried at first, because—” He shot Colin an
apprehensive glance. “Well, because, you know, I—well, need both my
arms and hands to function properly if I aim to make a go of set
designing for the pictures. And I’m right-handed, so that arm’s the
more important of the two.”

A swell of compassion filled Brenda when she
saw George’s neck redden and two splotches of color visit his snowy
cheeks. The poor guy. He wanted so much to make a success of his
life and to prove to his family that academia wasn’t the only road
one could take in order to achieve it. She wished him well and
aimed to help him as much as she could. He’d have to do most of it
on his own, of course. No amount of moral support could make up for
a lack of effort, determination, or talent. She sensed he possessed
all three qualities.

“You’re looking a little better.” Colin’s
voice held no conviction.

Brenda grinned at him and then at George. “I
think you look like last week’s laundry left to sit, wet, in a tub
until it turned all mildewy. I guess it’s the bruises set against
your pallor.”

Colin looked shocked.

George laughed. “I’m sure you’re more right
than Colin is.” He glanced at Colin. “Although I appreciate the
encouragement. This is no fun.”

Finally Colin understood he was being
teased. He grinned, too. “She’s right. You look like hell.”

“Thanks, Colin.” George laughed again and
then winced. “It hurts when I laugh.”

“Do you need more medication?” Suddenly
Brenda remembered the nurse. “Where’s Miss Cleary? I thought she
was supposed to be watching you.”

“She is,” George assured her. “Like a hawk.
She only went out to get some supper for the both of us. I
understand I’m only to be allowed soup.” He gave a grimace of
distaste.

Brenda winked at him “Maybe I can sneak you
a steak one of these days.”

“Shoot, I hope I’m not going to be laid up
like this for days. Maybe another day or so will be enough. I
wouldn’t have to be in bed now, except that I got a little battered
when that thing hit me. If it was just the arm, I’d be up and about
right now.”

“You’re better off resting. It’s always best
to rest after receiving an injury. Animals know it by instinct.
Sometimes humans need to be tied down.” Colin looked stern.

George grinned up at his brother. “You can
save the rope. My instincts are working just fine, thanks.”

“Oh, George!” Brenda felt like crying,
although she’d never do such a weak thing in front of the invalid.
Besides, she had a feeling her tears would be more for herself than
for George, and she despised them. “I’m so sorry this
happened.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Colin put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I’ll be back later, George. If you need something, let me know.
Can I get you anything now?”

George shook his head, winced again, and
said, “No thanks, Colin. I think all I need now is some chow, and
that’s being provided, such as it is.”

The door opened as he spoke, and Nurse
Cleary entered the room bearing a tray. Colin rushed over to help
her with it. Brenda was pleased to note this evidence of social
aptitude in the man she loved. He wasn’t hopeless by any means.

Not that she’d be the one to civilize him.
In a few days, they were going to part forever. Or, if not forever,
then for the most part. The idyll would be over; that was all she
knew for certain.

“Thank you, Mr. Peters.” Nurse Cleary
flapped a napkin and tucked it into George’s pajama top. “Help me
sit this rascal up so he can eat his thin gruel and water.”

“Ew.” George made a terrible face. “Gruel?
You said—”

The nurse laughed. “Only joking, Georgie, my
lad. You’ll get some dry bread to go with your gruel.”

She and Colin assisted George to sit.
Watching, Brenda saw the sweat break out on George’s forehead, and
she cringed inside, wishing she could take his pain away. But he’d
be better soon. Everything healed in time. Even hearts, she
imagined, although it seemed unlikely right now

As soon as George saw what lay on the tray
Nurse Cleary settled across his lap, he cheered up considerably.
“Say, this beats the tar out of thin gruel and water.”

The nurse grinned and gave him a wink.
“Sure, and it’s real food you need, my boy. I don’t care what the
doctor says, a growing lad needs real food.”

“I’ll say.”