Out of the Ashes
.
Holly was just coming off the beach when the
cab, the driver complaining about the beach road, pulled up in front of Kenneth's house. I paid him and he drove off swearing that if he had known where I wanted him to take me, he would never have accepted the assignment. Holly waved and hurried along, breaking into a fast walk, Ulysses barking and rushing past her to greet me.
"What's up? Why are you back?" "I have to show Kenneth something that came special delivery to me," I replied.
"What is it?"
She followed as I walked toward the studio, explaining what it was. She looked at the pictures, even though she had never known Mommy nor seen any photographs of her.
"They say everyone has a twin someplace," Holly offered, handing the catalogue back.
Kenneth was seated on his small sofa staring at the sculpture when we entered the studio. He looked up so casually I realized he hadn't even known I had left earlier.
"Lunch time, huh?" he said.
"No Kenneth. I brought you that sandwich you have wasting away on the table there," Holly said, nodding toward a plate on a tray. He gazed at it.
"Oh? You brought it to me? What about Melody?"
"I've been home and back, Kenneth," I said. "There didn't seem much for me to do here and I had to pack to move in with Grandma Olivia, remember?"
"Right, right," he said. "So. I forgot to eat lunch, huh?" He reached over and grasped the sandwich. "Looks good. What is it, Holly, sprouts, tomatoes, herbs?"
"Just eat it, Kenneth," she said. He took a bite, smiled, and chewed. Then he took his first real look at me.
"What's happening? If you went home to pack, why are you here?" He looked at Holly for some hint. "She has something to show you, Ken."
"Oh?"
I handed him the catalogue, opened to the page Alice had folded. He gazed at it a moment, put the sandwich down, and sat up. Then he looked at me, his eyebrows dipping toward each other.
"What is this?" He turned the catalogue to the front. -En Vogue."
"My girlfriend in Sewell sent it to me. Her mother orders clothes from that company. She just happened to be browsing through this latest copy and saw those pictures of that model who resembles Mommy."
"Latest copy?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned to the fine print on the inside of the cover.
"Does it look like her, Ken?" Holly asked.
"It is a remarkable resemblance," he muttered. He got up and went to his tool table, shifting some things around to find his magnifying glass. Then he thumbed through the pictures. He stared ahead for a moment and shook his head gently before looking again.
"I thought if anyone knew my mother's face and could decide about those pictures, it was you," I said. He nodded. I held my breath, waiting.
"It might be something she did before the accident," he offered. "But it's Haille. No doubt about it," he concluded.
A surge of heat moved up my neck and brought a crimson flush to my cheeks. I used to wonder what it was like for the families and loved ones of actors and actresses to turn on the television set and see them on the screen. I imagined it had to be wonderful and painful at the same time.
"But if it is Mommy, why is her hair black?" I asked. "Even her eyebrows."
"It might just have been what the company or the photographer wanted for this shoot," Holly suggested. Kenneth looked at the pages again.
"I don't see why. Actually, Haille's real hair color would have worked just as well with these shots and the color of these clothes."
"Maybe she had just done something else, Kenneth. There are a dozen reasons for it, I imagine," Holly said. He nodded.