Chapter Eighteen

“Rainbows come with rain.” Bella tossed a package of picture hangers up in the air as she waited for Jan to reveal the first portrait they’d place on the dining room wall.

“What?” asked Jan, half-listening. She held up a big Peña painting of an ancient Native American man, his face as weathered and deeply carved as the red-rock mountains in the picture’s background.

“I’m so glad we left the boys at my house to clean up after dinner,” Bella said. “This unveiling will be special for the two of us.”

Jan turned the picture to Bella, who gasped with joy.

“It killed me not to look at them,” Bella admitted as she stood against Jan’s bare living room wall. “I brought them from the bedroom, but kept the fronts away from me so I’d be surprised.” She took the portrait from Jan and placed it against the wall. “They’ll finish the room perfectly.” She drew her tiny body to full height, pushing the portrait higher. “And we’re not allowed to go to bed until the living and dining rooms are completely decorated.”

“Rainbows and rain?” Jan repeated as she arranged pictures on the floor.

Bella leaned a portrait against the wall and turned to face Jan, clearing her throat. “Dolly Parton said it. ‘If you’re looking for rainbows, you better expect some rain.’”

Jan squinted at her, feeling criticized. “You think I can’t handle rain?”

With a chuckle, Bella said, “I was talking about myself. Missing Sidney, feeling so lonely. Then you came along, dragging Roman and the General.” She winked. “Even Frank, my interior design pal.” Cocking her head to judge the furnished living room, she added, “And this project.”

“Rain and rainbows?” Jan summed up.

“Yes. Look for one. Expect the other.”

Jan let out a sigh. “I avoid rain.”

Hoisting a hammer as if she were considering its weight, Bella said. “Beat feet for the desert, hmm?”

Wincing, Jan thought of her packed bags and Palm Springs.

Bella gripped the hammer. “Gosh all fishhooks. I sound just like Sidney, or Roman, for that matter. Don’t mind me, honey. I was getting used to having you and Roman around, but I feel a storm brewing, a big one. Guess I was recalling Dolly’s words to prepare myself.”

“A storm between Roman and me?”

With a nod, Bella said, “He’s been quiet since you two returned from the Mission. He watches you so intently.”

To cover her uneasiness, Jan picked up a small portrait of a boy whose face registered abject wonder. What was the child seeing?

Bella forged on. “And you’re avoiding him. I can understand why, somewhat, because Frank’s been around, but you’re out and out ignoring my grandson. Something happened while you were in downtown SLO. I’m not going to ask what tipped your scale against Roman.” She shrugged, her BEDAZZLED T-shirt glittering with each movement. “I’m letting you know I expect rain with my rainbows.” Bella tapped the hammer in her palm. “Hope you do too.”

Seeking solace, Jan turned her back on Bella to survey the new living room arrangement. She liked how the enormous sisal rug grounded her double couch setting. In another corner, leather chairs in warm rusts and browns invited her to sit down, put up her feet on the ottoman and relax. Bella had arranged table lighting and floor lamps strategically, making every part of the room worth a visit.

The last time Jan remembered being so happy to live in a space was her college apartment, where with little money, begging, and borrowing, she’d made the space her own. Bricks and boards for bookshelves. An old door set on concrete bricks served as her couch. Lots of cushions on the door-sofa had made the seating bearable, but only if you sat quietly, primly. Her makeshift couch had turned out to be the perfect chaperone: when necking with a boyfriend got too intense, the door rocked on the bricks, threatening collapse. Tended to send boys home early.

Jan gazed at her comfy sofas and realized she’d created a necking haven. She shook her head, amused at the irony.

“You’re not happy with our work, honey?” Bella called out.

Smiling, Jan turned to her. “I love it, Bella. It’s a rainbow.”

“Was I wrong about the bad weather brewing between you and Roman?”

Jan handed Bella the small picture. Without words, Bella hoisted the portrait against the wall where both of them could appreciate the art. Wishing relationships were as easy to frame, Jan considered Bella’s question. No storms swirled around Frank. Why wasn’t she attracted to a life with him anymore? She should be.

Instead she kept getting in deeper with Roman the tornado.

Run for cover.

Jan hated to hurt Bella, but the woman would see right through a lie. “It’s going to be a bad blow, Bella. Batten down the hatches.”

****

Roman’s conflict with Frank simmered during dinner at Bella’s. When Bella, her sister, and Jan were present, talk was polite. Proper topics: The weather, home decorating, golf, Sidney’s memorial. Everyone contributed, commiserated in the right places and laughed at the appropriate times.

But as soon as Bella’s sister went off to visit a friend and Bella and Jan left for Jan’s house, the three men hit the kitchen to clean up and conversation stopped. Roman figured the General was tired, maybe worried about Jan’s safety. Frank? Clearly, the guy was working out a strategy to reconcile with Jan, by ingratiating himself with Bella, the General, and Jan.

Fine. Take her.

As Roman put the last of the dishes away and Frank scrubbed the sink, the General dried his hands on a dishtowel and flipped on the History Channel. Roman sank into a chair in front of the TV, irritated by Frank and seething over Jan’s subterfuge with Tess. But what bugged him most was his own hypocrisy. How did he figure his covert behavior was justified and hers wasn’t?

The TV narrator droned on about Andy Warhol, Campbell Soup cans filling the screen.

Frank took a seat next to Roman. The General, standing between their chairs, commented, “Never did like modern art.”

“I agree,” said Frank. “Give me a realistic landscape any day. Jan and I hate Warhol’s stuff.”

Roman thought about Jan’s portraits, the ones he’d pulled out of her spare room closet. Last night, while she slept, he’d set them up on the perimeter of the room, thinking the pictures would help him understand her. Simple research. No harm.

Warhol’s depiction of Marilyn Monroe took over the TV screen. Jan would like the joy and innocence in Monroe’s expression.

“You have no idea what Jan likes,” Roman blurted.

“Wha…?” Frank responded, looking shocked.

Roman caught an expression of interest from the General and forged ahead. “Jan and Bella are hanging fifteen portraits in her home as we speak.”

Frank shifted uneasily in his chair. “Portraits? Really?”

John Wayne’s face dominated the TV screen, seeming to add swagger to Roman’s argument. “Have you seen them? Her pictures, I mean.”

“No. Why?” Frank asked, turning the sound down on the TV.

“Has she ever bought a painting and hung it in your Seattle condo?” Roman said, emphasizing your.

Frank had the grace to think a moment. “No. She likes mine.”

Marilyn Monroe’s face, painfully naïve and so beautiful, flashed on the screen again, as if to underline Roman’s point. “She might not mind yours, I grant you. She probably doesn’t like them, however. There’s not a landscape among her fifteen.”

“Oh?” he inquired, seeming surprised.

Roman closed his eyes, remembering the paintings. “She’s attracted by bold color and brush strokes. People’s faces, old and young please her.” He pointed to the TV. “More detail than Warhol. Actually more surreal than Warhol’s.” He smiled at the TV. “But she’d hang a Warhol. Happily.”

The General inclined his head, which Roman took as agreement.

Frank looked puzzled, probably wondering how he’d suddenly lost favor with the General.

“Ask her,” Roman said. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Frank asked, eyeing the General as if hoping for backup.

Roman settled in his chair, surprised by his vengefulness. All his disappointment in Jan and confusion about his own behavior, welled up to throw Frank’s way. It was wrong, but he wanted to hurt Frank, make him pay for how he’d conned Jan twelve years ago. A boss, fifteen years her senior, bedding a green employee, then shackling her by obligation instead of love. Damn him.

But Frank was also Jan’s friend. Roman couldn’t bear to think of her sleeping with the man, but at least he could honor their years together. Loyalty. Jan had accused Roman of having no loyalty to people, willing to skewer anyone and everyone. What would she say about his new personality disorder: backing Jan to the hilt, even while they lied to one another.