Humiliation continued swelled through Twila as they watched Tommy and the belly dancer approach. Her brother’s arm was slung around the woman’s neck in an overly friendly way, making Twila wonder if he had already snuck off with the woman earlier to fool around. Part of her wanted to pull her brother aside and beg him to take her back to his place for the night. Although she had too much to drink to get behind the wheel, Tommy seemed sober.

  Nonetheless, they danced at the disco until the wee hours of the morning with Henry, his wife, and the artsy couple’s friends. Deciding she’d had the time of her life, Twila instantly passed out on the luxurious leather couch in Henry’s loft.

  She could not know her little adventure had awakened a dormant beast.

  12

  Arnie was sitting at the kitchen table when Twila returned from her trip to Los Angeles early the following day. The way he sat rigid, his cold stare boring into her soul, she realized she had made a terrible mistake by not coming home the night before. The dark intent he omitted made her skin crawl and her insides tighten.

  She quickly decided it would be best to make light of the situation and pretend nothing was amiss. “Arnie!” she sang, breezing into the apartment to kiss his cheek. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Where have you been?” he demanded in a low growl. “I was afraid you had died in a car accident.”

  “Clearly, I’m fine,” she said, backing away with a nervous giggle. “I merely had too much to drink with Tommy at an art festival. I spent the night on his couch. If you had a telephone, I would have called to let you know.” As much as she strived to be transparent with her lovers, she was confident Arnie wouldn’t understand the platonic friendship she’d formed with Henry.

  “I was on the verge of making a trip to the police station,” he informed her, baring his teeth in an angry sneer. He grabbed his cane, wavering as he stood. “How could you have done something so cruel to me, Little Mouse?” As he shuffled closer, his expression darkened. “I trusted you.”

  Her voice wavered with fear when she said, “I’m so sorry I scared you like that. Truly.”

  “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do!” she cried, holding onto his fierce face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Arnie. It’s just…I haven’t spent time with other artists in ages. Being around them was so enlightening. It was good for my soul.”

  He remained as hard as marble beneath her touch. “And I’m not?”

  “Of course you are!” she insisted. “Just in different ways.”

  The hard look in his gaze didn’t falter as he walked away from her to exit the apartment.

  The next afternoon, she received a letter from New Orleans that nearly broke her heart. To make things worse, Arnie returned from work in a sour mood. The moment he opened the door to the apartment, he chucked his cane across the room. It shattered a vase full of flowers he’d given her that sat in the center of their 2-person kitchen table. Twila’s heart slammed to a stop in her chest. He had gone to work after their argument the day before and hadn’t spoken to her since.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked meekly while wiping her swollen eyes.

  “Got fired today,” he grunted. With one look at her distressed state, he fell to his knees and buried his head inside her lap. “I’m so sorry, my little mouse! I’ll never be able to provide for you properly as long as I’m a cripple!” His fingers gripped her skirt as he began to cry. “What kind of man can’t take care of the woman he loves? I’ll never be able to buy you a wedding ring at this rate!”

  Twila’s breaths became thin. In the time they’d been together, they had never once discussed marriage. Although he had expressed an interest in starting a family one day, she assumed he meant with a woman sometime in the future and not necessarily with her.

  Promising herself to one man until the end of time made her stomach harden. Without the rush of falling in love for the first time with someone, she wasn’t sure her creativity would continue to flourish. She also didn’t think she’d ever enjoy staying in one place for long, and Arnie didn’t enjoy traveling outside Papaya Springs.

  “There’s no need to be upset,” she cooed, running her fingers through the thick, sandy hair he’d grown down to his chin. “I will still love you, no matter what.”

  With the scratchy sound of her voice, he lifted his head to look her in the eye. “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”

  Twila’s lips quivered. “I received a letter from Miss Penny’s son today. She passed away last week.”

  With a frown, Arnie gazed at the portrait above Twila’s head. “She was old, Little Mouse. Old people die.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Twila told him with a shake of her head. “She was a very dear friend. I should’ve been there to say goodbye.” She gripped his arms, pulling him upright. “I have to go to her funeral, Arnie. It’s on Sunday…in New Orleans. Two days isn’t enough time to drive out there. I’ll have to fly.”

  The same dark, unsettling look from their last argument stirred behind his eyes. “I can’t afford to fly you to New Orleans.”

  “I still have a big chunk of money in the bank from selling my paintings,” she explained. “I can afford to pay for my own flight.”

  “You’d go without me?” he snarled.

  She bit her bottom lip. As much as he disliked flying after returning from ‘Nam, she assumed he wouldn’t want to go. “I suppose I could afford to buy you a ticket as well. But things might be a little tight for a while after that. At least until I can sell some more paintings.”

  She craned her neck to look up at Miss Penny’s likeness. She didn’t think she had the heart to sell the painting now that her friend was gone, but if Arnie didn’t find another job soon…

  “Go ahead without me then,” he grumbled, hobbling back to his feet. “It’s silly to spend that kind of money on someone who won’t know whether or not you were there to begin with.”

  In that tense moment, Twila knew she had to find a way out of their relationship. Arnold Douglas was no longer the man she’d met at the bus station.

  The summertime humidity in New Orleans was brutal. Twila fanned herself alongside Miss Penny’s daughter-in-law as the procession wound through the city’s neighborhood streets. Sweat dripped down her back and face, mingling with her endless tears.

  Twila had seen countless jazz funerals when she’d lived there, but never attended one for a friend. The brass wail of trumpets and trombones and the drums’ resounding thuds added to her sorrow and lifted her spirits in a complicated way she couldn’t explain. Miss Penny’s grandchildren were a collective representation of the spirited way the sweet woman had lived as most of them wept with smiles and a little swing to their hips. Miss Penny’s three great-grandchildren joyously danced among them, their little hands flashing and waving to the sorrowful beat. Twila’s fingers itched to capture the precious memory in a painting.

  She’d been delighted to discover Walter, her one-time lover, was the drummer in the procession. She had hoped he would be there since he was Miss Penny’s neighbor and had introduced Twila to the kindly old woman. As soon as Miss Penny’s celebration concluded, they ran to each other with a firm embrace. Twila melted to the ground with the familiar feeling of his strong arms and lithe body.

  “What ails you, Miss Twila?” he asked as they parted, his eyes glowing with concern against his dark skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this down, and I sense it’s not only because of Miss Penny’s passin’.”

  All at once, her spirit felt utterly drained. Arnie had refused to speak to her after she returned from the travel agency with her ticket. She dreaded returning to him and letting him know they were done.

  “I’m sure Miss Penny told you I stayed in California,” she reluctantly explained to Walter. “That wasn’t part of my plan, but I sort of…umm…”

  “Fell in love,” he supplied with a grin. “Miss Penny told me all about it. Said you got that big heart of yours stolen by a wounded soldier.”

  “Arnie’s a good man, for the most part. It’s just…”

  “You’ve got the soul of an exotic bird.” His gaze became gentle as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Too beautiful to be caged up somewhere for one man to admire.” His beautiful smile widened. “Lord knows I tried.”

  Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. Perhaps she had been too hasty to walk away from Walter after he’d proposed they elope with the aid of a minister at the next jazz festival. He seemed to know her better than anyone, and the affectionate way he was looking at her, she knew he still loved her. Deeply.

  “I’d been workin’ up the courage to get your phone number from Miss Penny,” he confessed with a shy grin. “My sister, Rosalyn, recently decided to study art abroad…she’s leavin’ next month. When she broke the news, she said it was too bad you weren’t still around, or she would’ve invited you to come along as a freeloadin’ roommate. I told her there was nothin’ stoppin’ her from askin’ even though you’d moved on. But she didn’t think you’d be interested.”

  Pangs of jealousy stole Twila’s breath. Walter’s parents owned a successful jazz club in the French Quarter and had become quite wealthy when Walter and his sister were young. When Rosalyn mentioned “freeloading,” it was because she knew Twila couldn’t afford such an elaborate trip. The two women had become close in the eighteen months Twila and Walter had been together, so Twila was confident Rosalyn’s invitation had been genuine.

  “Where’s she going?” Twila asked in a quiet voice.

  “Paris, London, Santorini, Rome, and a handful of other places I don’t remember because I’ve never heard of ‘em.” With a deep chuckle, he waved his hands through the air. “Of course, our folks supported the idea of you comin’ along because they knew you’d make sure their Rosie behaved herself.”

  Twila briefly allowed herself to imagine traveling the world at her old friend’s side and witnessing first-hand some of the most famous works of art known to man. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of walking inside the Sistine Chapel and drinking in Michelangelo’s masterpiece with her own eyes. She would surely faint if she were to stand in front of da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait.

  More tears spilled down her cheeks as she imagined her wildest dreams coming to fruition. She knew it would break Arnie’s tender heart if she accepted the invitation to join her friend, but it was also a way out. If she stayed in California only to make him happy, a small part of her would shrivel up and die. She refused to become a shell of her former self like her mother.

  Walter had become little more than a blur through her tears. “Do you think she’d still…I mean, did she really mean to invite me to come along? Was she serious when she said that?”

  “I can take you to see her right now so she can ask you face-to-face. She’s workin’ at the club. She’d be overjoyed to see your pretty face—especially if you mean to take her up on the invitation.”

  Sniffling, Twila wiped an arm across her wet face. “Do you think I should?”

  “Baby girl,” Walter whispered, pulling her back into his arms, “I believe it’s exactly the kind of adventure that exotic soul of yours craves.”

  13

  Twila’s legs felt impossibly heavy as she climbed the rickety steps to Arnie’s apartment early in the evening following Miss Penny’s funeral. On the return flight from Louisiana, she tried to imagine the best way to tell Arnie that she had decided to leave. Considering his comment about marriage the other day, she suspected he’d be devastated no matter how she chose to break the news. One thing was sure—she wouldn’t dare mention her former lover’s influence on her decision.

  She was worried Arnie had forgotten to pay the electric bill when she swung the door open to find the apartment illuminated by multiple candles. Then she noticed him waiting on one of the two kitchen chairs, a small velvet box on the table before him. Stifling a sharp gasp, she quickly covered her mouth with one hand and dropped her suitcase with the other.

  So much for letting him down easily.

  “Arnie…” she began, too surprised to go on.

  He rushed over to her as fast as his wounded leg would allow and guided her toward the other chair. She was in such an advanced state of shock that she feared she would’ve fallen over without his help. It was as if she had been transported into a nightmare.

  “I’m sorry, my little mouse. I was so…so angry when you left for your friend’s funeral that I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s just…I knew you had many other lovers before me. I was afraid you were secretly returning to New Orleans so you could be reunited with one. I was worried I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

  With great difficulty, he lowered to his good knee and tried to physically crook the other leg in front of him with both hands. The way he grimaced and grunted was enough to drive Twila insane with guilt.

  “Arnie, stop,” she pleaded, resting her hand on his shoulder. “We have to talk.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do here?” he snapped, casting her one of his dangerous looks.

  “It looks like you’re attempting to ask for my hand in marriage, and that’s not where the conversation I want to have with you will be headed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Her stomach tightened. His voice was strained with more anger every time he spoke. “Why don’t you take a seat? You look…uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t be telling me what to do,” he growled, even though he was clearly trying to rise from the floor.

  She tried to steady him by gripping his forearms, but he jerked away and tumbled onto his back. Wincing, she reached for him a second time. “Arnie⁠—”

  “Get away from me!” he roared.

  In the time it took for him to recover and get back on his feet, she looked away. Watching him without helping felt heartless and cruel. She merely wished for the whole ordeal to end so she could peacefully mourn their relationship.

  She’d never had to experience an ugly argument when leaving men in the past. Except for Walter, the others had understood their time together was temporary. And although Walter had once believed they were soul mates, he’d been gracious when she told him it was time for her to move on.

  She wasn’t sure she had the heart to continue hurting Arnold that way.

  He finally lowered to the chair across from her and screwed his eyelids shut. “What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?”

  As she eyed the box still sitting in front of him, her nerves buzzed with unease. Her timing couldn’t be any worse. “You’re a sweet man, Arnie. And I hope you understand how much I love you…I truly do. There will always be a piece of you in my heart.”

  “But there’s a condition to that love?” he sneered, his eyes popping open.

  Her heart temporarily stopped with the darkness coursing through his words.

  “The kind of domesticated life you want is not for me,” she explained, trying her best not to feed his anger. “I was meant to wander and explore the world. There’s simply too much out there waiting to be discovered.” She paused with a weak smile. “The idea of staying in one place for very long makes it hard for me to breathe.”

  His jaw hardened. “Then I’ll go with you.”

  She reached for his hand, then thought better of it. “It’s something I must do on my own, Arnie.”

  The darkness emitting from his eyes made Twila shudder. “You think your silly paintings will support you as you ‘wander’ the earth?”

  The question felt like a slap in her face. Before that moment, he’d been so supportive of her work, referring to them as her “masterpieces.”

  She drew her gaze away from his. “I was offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity by a friend. I’d have the chance to study some of the greatest paintings in history and learn from world-renowned artists⁠—”

  “So I was right. You’re leaving me for an old lover. This so-called friend.”

  “I’m not leaving you for anyone. This friend is a woman.” She put her trembling hands in her lap, wishing her brother was beside her. Even more so, she wished she had taken Tommy’s advice and stayed far away from Arnold Douglas as he had first suggested at the bus station.

  “Look,” she said, eyeing her soon-to-be ex-lover with growing trepidation, “it was never my intention to hurt you. My decision to go overseas has nothing to do with you or our relationship. I had fun with you, Arnie. It’s just⁠—”

  “I’m not enough.” His lips trembled with anger. “Say it, Twila. I’m not enough of a man for you.”

  “That’s not true.” Panic clenched her throat when she noticed his hands had balled into fists at his side. No matter what she said, he didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to tell him. Explaining herself any more seemed futile. She rose on wobbling legs, feeling an urgent need to leave the little apartment far behind. “I think it’s best to stay at my mother’s tonight. I’ll return tomorrow to get my things.”

  Arnold remained silent as she snatched her suitcase and hurried out the door.

  After Twila called Tommy from a gas station phone booth to fill him in on her situation, he insisted on driving up from Los Angeles the following day to help her collect her things. She felt as if she was holding her breath the entire ride from their mother’s house to the apartment, waiting for the inevitable “I told you so” speech that she was sure would be coming. But Tommy remained unusually quiet as he drove through the seedy neighborhood and parked in front of the building.

  They planned their trip so they would arrive several hours after Arnie was to begin his shift at the factory. Even with Tommy at her side, she didn’t want to face another confrontation when she packed her belongings.

  Tommy gave the building a forlorn look. “It breaks my heart to think you called this dump home for so long.”