Mortimer

Chapter 9

“Now you sound like my mother.” Lilly Lou flopped back in the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“I do declare!” Cindy spoke in a mocking tone. “How ever shall I manage, without my mink scarf?!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Even though I think your father is overprotective, he is saving you a lot of trouble.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Lilly Lou pushed up on her elbow and glared at her friend.

Cindy grinned. “He’ll hate you going out with Mortimer. Entirely improper.”

hate“That makes me more determined than ever!”

“What are you going to do, then?” Cindy’s interest was piqued.

Lilly Lou grew thoughtful. “Mortimer has been down at the park every day this week.”

“He’s obsessed with that ship.”

“Yes, the Esquirer. He’s been drawing it.” Lilly Lou nodded. “I’ll stop by to see him.”

“Like every other day this week?” Cindy’s interest vanished and she went back to her nails.

“Don’t you worry. I have a plan.”

“What about Herbert?”

“I heard he was courting Helen Perry, too. Maybe some friendly competition will do him some good.”

“That’s my girl.” Cindy capped the nail polish lid. “So… tell me your plan.”

***

Lilly Lou found Mortimer laboring at his easel several days later. The sun tipped down and into the hills and the lighting, in Lilly Lou’s opinion, made her look rather fetching. “Mortimer, is that you?”

Mortimer had just put the finishing touches on the captain’s flag and was, at present, staring thoughtfully into the port as he paused in his sketching.

He did not respond, but just continued staring. Lilly Lou took another step closer, her cheeks flushing at the possibility of startling him. He looked quite himself today, his dark bushy mustache twitching as his right hand went back to work, moving vigorously across the paper.

“Quite funny meeting you here.” Lilly Lou bristled at being ignored and adjusted the purple hem of her skirt, which rose dangerously close to exposing her knee cap. Her pulse quickened, knowing that if her father caught her in such a skirt that he would surely lock her away forever.

She lifted her head and cleared her throat loudly.

“MY GOD!” Screamed Mortimer and, startled, he flipped backwards in his chair for the second time that week. Just as before, his legs kicked into the air, this time making contact with the easel, causing his work of art to tumble to the ground. “It’s the apocalypse!” Mortimer cried out from his position on the grass. He looked like a cockroach with its arms and legs wiggling.

MY GOD

“Oh, no Mortimer!” Lilly Lou rushed to his side, trying to comfort him. He swatted her away and tried to roll himself onto his side.

“It’s you!” Mortimer shot out a pudgy finger in condemnation; the rest of his tubby body wiggled and writhed in the grass. Lilly Lou reached out again and this time yanked Mortimer by his collar into a seated position.

“You’re quite alright, Mortimer.”

“It seems every time you come around; I wind up on my back!”

At his words, Lilly Lou flushed a deep shade of red. However, Mortimer took no notice of her color and busied himself pushing up onto all fours like a dog, before hoisting his lumbering frame to a standing position, all with the assistance of the overturned stool. Lilly Lou waited; her head turned away; her hands clasped at her front as Mortimer went to work packing. He arranged his easel, graphite, erasers, and pages of drawings that he carried with him in a camel colored, eighteen-inch leather messenger bag. Lilly Lou tried to peak at his drawing before he slid it into the bag.

Mortimer never let anyone see his work. She had attempted to steal a glance at it a time or two, but it had always resulted in an emotional explosion from the artist. She couldn’t blame him, really. For she had learned in primary school that many of the greatest minds were unpredictable. Why, Van Gogh even cut his earlobe off for love! She sighed at the pure romance.

She watched him silently and her lip tilted up in a half smile as he clumsily picked up the last piece of graphite, dropped it again, and bent over to retrieve it once more.

As the sun had buried itself below the horizon, Mortimer finally finished packing and carefully organizing all of his things. Lilly Lou found the twilight to be uncommonly romantic and her heart fluttered. While she was usually not permitted to be out and about after dark, tonight she had told her father that she was going to The Church. Pleased at her uncharacteristic religiosity, Mr. Longhorn had given her special permission to stay out late.

She had been under the iron thumb of Mr. Longhorn for eighteen years and she was determined that from now on she would be her own woman, have her own life experiences. She was getting so old and she knew that she must have some fun before he married her off to be stuck in an old mansion somewhere—nursing babies. You’re only as young and beautiful as she was for a short time. Pleased by her ingenuity, Lilly Lou brushed a hand through her hair and twisted her mouth into her most charming smile.

“Well, Mortimer. It must be fate that we end up together so often.”

“You’re still here?”

Lilly Lou suppressed the flash of anger and quickly composed herself. “Mortimer, I need an escort, would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

“An escort?”

“I am off to The Church, and you know it’s highly improper for me to be alone on the streets at night.” Lilly Lou knew that Mortimer’s nanny, Mrs. Dixon, had reared Mortimer with rules of utmost propriety. Even though his social graces were a bit uncustomary, when directly addressed with rules Mortimer was uncommonly compliant.

rules