An Emergence of Green by Katherine V Forrest Read Free Book Online Page B

the Sizzler.” She closed her eyes. “It’s been more than a month since the last time…I can already taste my steak…”
    Carolyn was silent, watching Val’s contented face, thinking that two nights ago she and Paul had gone to a Ventura Boulevard restaurant with prices high enough to buy ten dinners at a Sizzler.
    Carefully, she adjusted herself on the raft, pillowing her head in her arms, comfortable in the silence that had fallen. Drowsy, smelling the heat of this day and drinking in the fragrance of the cool water, listening to the slap of water on the side of the pool and the shaking of the heavy palm fronds above her in the light breeze and the faint distant drone of an aircraft, she studied through half-open eyes the hand that lay close to her in both protection and repose. A big hand, and well-shaped. A hand that was somehow graceful, with fingers slightly tapered, the tips blunt, the fingernails large, square, serviceably pared, with dark traces of paint trapped in the cuticles. Tanned hands, strong and capable, but soft: she could see the plump cushioned pads on the underside of the fingers. She could imagine a slender paintbrush dwarfed by this hand, held with delicate grace in this hand…
    Val groaned and opened her eyes. “God it’s peaceful, but I know it’s time to go.”
    She paddled vigorously to the steps at the shallow end, Carolyn in tow, slid off her own raft, and held Carolyn’s while she climbed off.
    “I really enjoyed it, Val. I’m sure you have a few minutes more. Let me get you something to drink before you leave. Come in.”
    “Carrie, my clothes are wet.”
    “You’re fine,” she said firmly.
    Later she put Val’s drink glass in the dishwasher and left her own out on the sink as she always did. That night she explained that she had bought the rafts to float in the pool after she got home from work. For as long as possible she wanted Val Hunter to be exclusively hers, beyond any criticism or judgment of Paul’s.
    “One raft would have been enough,” he complained. “Didn’t they have better colors? They’re cheap-looking.” He picked up a library book from the top of the Plexiglas bookcase. “What’s with these?”
    She had gone to the library after Val left. She said casually, “They’re about art. As you pointed out the other day, I don’t know the first thing about it. I decided to find out.”
    His eyes drifted over her, returned to the bookcase. “They’re all banged up and dirty. Why don’t you buy some new ones at the bookstore? They’d look good on the coffee table.”
    Relieved, she said, “Honey, that’s a waste of money till I know what kind of books to get.”
    “Just trying to keep you happy, Princess. What’s for dinner?”

Chapter 9

    For the next two days Carolyn was delayed in leaving her office, only half an hour, but arrived home each afternoon to look with keen disappointment at the shimmering surface of her empty pool. She could not call—did Val even have a phone?—nor could she go knocking on her door; their relationship lacked sufficient weight.
    On Thursday she arrived home at her usual hour; again the pool was deserted. Changing into shorts and a blouse, she reflected dismally that of course she was inconsequential in Val Hunter’s life; how could she be anything else? Val Hunter was independent—look at how she dressed, took care of herself. Val’s life was totally unlike her own. From the stereo Billy Joel rocked into “Uptown Girl” as she restlessly paced the living room.
    There was a tapping at the front door, followed by the doorbell chime. She switched off the stereo and then peered through the peephole. With sharp gladness she saw it was Val.
    “Missed you the last two days, Carrie. Would have been here earlier, I was out sketching today, I don’t know what was wrong with the Ventura Freeway, never did see any accident. Thank God I drive a Volks or I’d be out there still, waving a towel over my radiator.” After a