Episode #142 - A strange power has taken old of a man's hand and mind, and caused him to use his talents in a way which he finds it impossible to explain.
Cottage - Sam looks at the painting, tortured. What made me paint this? he agonizes--I only wish I knew. Pop, says Maggie, you've painted things before and haven't known where the idea came from, she says. Sure, he says, but painting like this, with this kind of intensity, had to come from some place specifically! I'm sure there must be an explanation, comforts Vicki. You've been thinking about Laura Collins ever since she came back, says Maggie--it's obvious to me where you got the idea from. OK, he says, I'm willing to buy that, but that doesn't explain the mood, the feeling, of this painting--the control it's got, the feeling AI got when I worked on it--all the fire in it!--why is it such a violent painting? It's because I explained the legend of the Phoenix bird, says Maggie--I remembered it affected you--it's a logical explanation for everything. I've disliked my canvases before, says Sam viciously, but I've never hated one before--I hate this one, I can't stand to look at it! Take it easy, urges Maggie I feel that thing owns me, says Sam, dictates to me--commands me--I don't ever want to put a brush to it again--I don't want to look at it anymore! He takes the canvas down from the easel. What are you doing? asks Maggie. Once and for all, he says, I'm going to get rid of it--I'm going to throw it into the sea! He heads for the door, but Vicki calls, "Wait!--I want that painting." Sam stares at her in astonishment.
What do you mean? asks Sam. I want it, says Vicki. How can you want this painting? asks Sam. I don't know, admits Vicki, there's something about it. That's why I'm throwing it away, says Sam--there's something about it. Rather than throw it away, says Vicki, let me buy it from you. I can't sell you a painting like this, protests Sam. You can't be serious, says Maggie, I am, says Vicki. I'd like to have it. And I'd like you to tell me exactly what's here that appeals to you, demands Sam. I don't know, she says, but something does. Look at it, he demands, tell me why you want it! It's just something I feel, says Vicki. It's an evil, horrible painting, says Sam, setting it down on a chair--I've never painted subject matter like that in my life, nor will I ever. I'd just as soon he did get rid of it, Maggie tells Vicki--he won't be the same until it's out of here. If you're going to get rid of it anyway... says Vicki. You want it that badly? he asks her. Yes, she insists. Fine, he says, handing it to you--it's yours, a gift from me to you--but not with sincere compliments. Thank you, she says. Don't thank me for that kind of thing, he says. There's an area here you've left unpainted, points out Vicki. I know, says Sam. What were you going to put there? I don't know, says Sam, cleaning brushes. You must have had something in mind to leave a space like that open, insists Maggie. I tell you, says Sam angrily, I don't know why, I've been staring at it and I don't know what goes in there. I was just curious, says Vicki. If you look at it as long as I have, warns Sam, you'll cease to be curious--I want to tell you something--when you've looked at this long enough, don't bring it back here. I won't, promises Vicki. I want you to destroy it, he says. I'd never do that, Vicki says. Throw it in the sea, says Sam, cut it up or burn it--yeah, that's what you should do--that's what has to be done to it--it should be burned!--if you destroy it, which I'm sure you will, I want you to come back and tell me after you've done it--AFTER you've done it, and don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings. Take it easy, Maggie urges her father, the painting won't be here anymore--you can get on with some other work. I feel better already, says Sam--I think I'll go down to the Blue Whale and get a little brain-washing. (interesting term for getting drunk.)--get some inspiration for a new canvas. If it makes you feel better, says Maggie in a small voice. It rejuvenates me, says Sam--goodbye, Vicki, and good luck with your acquisition. Thank you again, she says. Don't thank me, he advises, putting on his hat, I wish I could suggest a frame for it, but I can't think of any frame that would be right for it. He leaves. Maggie, really upset, watches him from the window. I'd like to apologize for the things my father said, Maggie tells Vicki. You don't have to, Vicki assures her. He's been acting that way ever since he saw Laura Collins, says Maggie. He hates this painting, says Vicki, I don't understand. What I don't understand, says Maggie, is why you wanted it in the first place. I can't explain the way I feel, says Vicki. Do you really like it? asks Maggie. It's not a question of liking it, says Vicki, I just think this is a very important painting. Come on, says Maggie, my father is a very good painter, but he doesn't turn out masterpieces. What I mean is that there is some kind of meaning behind it, explains Vicki, some kind of fascination about it--that intrigues me--it's almost as though--no, that's absurd--it's almost as though this painting was the real reason I came here today. You'd never seen it before, or heard of it, says Maggie. I know, says Vicki--there are so many things I don't understand. I have an idea you could explain it better than I could, says Maggie--I am going to wrap this for you
--it's not the kind of thing you should be seen carrying in the streets. She takes the painting from Vicki and, holding it up, says I just thought of something--I wonder what Laura Collins will say when she sees it.
Laura enters the drawing room, where David sits at the table by the fireplace, still looking at the photo album. You're going to strain your eyes, warns his mother, sitting beside him--firelight is not for reading or for looking closely at things. I was just going through this, he explains. What were you trying to see? she asks. Nothing much, he tells her. You looked as if you were looking right through the snapshots, she observes. That's impossible, says David. Yes it is, she says, so don't look so hard. You know something, he says, you're pretty beautiful, for a mother. Thank you, she says, you say that as if mothers weren't supposed to be pretty. Seeing that I don't know too many mothers, since I don't have too many friends, says David, you seem much more like a movie star or something. You're a flatterer, she says. I mean it, says David, you are beautiful--that's probably why my father married you. I suppose so, she says, an odd look on her face. I hope I find a girl just as beautiful as you are to marry, he says. We'll see what the future holds in store, she says. Did you have a lot of boyfriends? He asks. Some, she says. How many? He asks. She smiles. So many you couldn't count them, she teases. Was Burke Devlin ever one of them? asks David. Well, says Laura, he was in our crowd. Didn't you ever date him specially? Asks David. Yes, she says. I like him, says David--he listens to me when I have something to talk about. Do you talk to him often? She asks. Whenever I can, says David, what did he used to be like? Very charming, fun to be with, she says. Why didn't you marry him? asks David. She stands and walks away, tells David things just didn't work out that way--lots of things happened. He joins her. I wonder what it would be like to have him for a father, says David. I don't know, she says. I'll bet it would be nice, he says. She sits down and puts her hands on his arms. How do you feel about your own father? she asks. He looks around, making sure they're alone. You won't tell anyone, will you? he asks. Of course not, she promises. I don't feel so good about him, says David--I don't like him so much--he doesn't like me. Of course he does, she says. No he doesn't, says David resentfully, crossing his arms over his chest--he doesn't care a thing about me, or what happens to me. What makes you say that? she asks. I can tell, he says, can't you tell whether someone loves you or not? Sometimes, she says. Well I know he doesn't love me, says David, that's why I wanted you so much. Now that I'm here, she says, do you believe I really love you? Yes, I do, he says. You're right, she says passionately, because I love you more than life--David, if you had to make a choice between your father and me, which one of us would you want to live with? He's saved from having to answer when Vicki comes through the front door. It's Miss Winters, says David--and she has a package! She's about to go upstairs, but David runs to her, and Laura joins him in the foyer. What have you got there? asks David. Something, says Vicki--for my room. Laura tells her son he mustn't do that--if Miss Winters wanted to show it to you, she would. It looks like a painting, notes David--is that what it is?--please show it to me? I don't know, says Vicki. Is it a painting? asks Laura. Yes, says Vicki. I'd love to see it, says Laura. All right, agrees Vicki. She leans it on the foyer table, removes the wrapping and turns it toward Laura and David. Here it is, she says. David looks at it and gulps. Laura presses her hand to her throat and shakes her head in horror.
My dream! Cries David--it's my dream! Where did you get this? asks Laura, disgusted. From Sam Evans, says Vicki. Laura walks away. It's horrible, she proclaims. David takes the canvas in his hands and gazes at it. How did Mr. Evans know about my dream? He wonders. He didn't, says Vicki--it's just something he painted. When did he do it? asks Laura. He said he started it the day you came back to Collinsport, says Vicki. How did he know about it? asks David, did he have the same dream? He doesn't know why he painted it, says Vicki. I don't understand, says David, how a man could make a painting out of what I dreamed. You had a dream like that? asks Laura. Yes, it was the night you came here, says David. Holding onto herself as if cold, Laura wonders what made him put her face into that picture. He doesn't know, says Vicki--he's practically incoherent when he talks about it. That's understandable, says Laura. Look at all the colors, says David admiringly. I wish you wouldn't look at it! says Laura. It's OK, it doesn't scare me, says David. Why do you have this? asks Laura, agitated. He gave it to me, says Vicki. Why? asks Laura. Because he was going to throw it away, says Vicki. Why didn't you let him? demands Laura. I don't know, says Vicki, it seemed a waste. A shocking painting! says Laura--what do you intend to do with it? I don't know, says Vicki. Could I have it? asks David. David! chastises Laura. I don't have a real painting in my room, he says. This is not the kind of painting you want to have in your room! she says. How about it? David asks Vicki--can I have it? I don't think your mother wants you to have it, says Vicki. Mother, please? begs David. It isn't good, she says. I like it! he says. I'll get you a better one, she says. Why can't I have this one? he says, I want this one!--it's a picture of you! But it's not a good one, she insists. It's a special picture, says David, of my dream, and of you!--it means something to me--I don't have a painting of you! I'll get you another one! she says. But I want this one, he says. I want you to have what you want, she says, but this is not a good thing to have. Why not? he asks. Because of what it represents, says Laura. You're mother is right, says Vicki--it's not worth hanging anyway--it's not even finished. What's supposed to go there? asks David. Mr. Evans didn't know, says Vicki. (Looks like David's profile to me.) What do you suppose goes in that spot? Asks David. Laura says she doesn't know. Please can't I have it?--I want it more than anything else! he pleads--Miss Winters?--please? It's not up to me, it's up to your mother, says Vicki. Mother, wheedles David. All right, agrees Laura, reluctantly. Oh, Mother!--Miss Winters!--thanks a million! He says, thrilled--I'll go hang it up in my room. It doesn't have a frame, says Vicki. It doesn't need a frame, says David, I can put a string across the back, then I'll hang it up--would you come up and help me? All right, says Vicki. Hurry! says David, and runs upstairs with his treasure. I'm very upset about this painting, Laura tells Vicki. I can see that, says Vicki. You never should have brought it into the house, insists Laura. I suppose you're right, I should have known it would have a bad effect on David, says Vicki--I don't know why I brought it here--I seem to have been compelled, as though I had no choice in the matter--as though it were prearranged. That's a very strange thing, says Laura--I want you to promise me something--if the opportunity presents itself, I want you to get the painting away from David! Vicki stares at her.
Vicki comes up to David's room, where he is on his bed, putting a string on the back of the painting. You're just in time, he says, I finished. Vicki sits on his bed with him and suggests that before he hang it, he think about it. No, sir, he says, my mother said OK, and I'm going to hang it up. She said OK because she knew how much you wanted it, says Vicki, but it's not making her happy. I don't see why she doesn't like it, complains David, it's a beautiful painting, and looks just like her. She doesn't want you to think of her looking like this! protests Vicki. Why not? he asks, it's a good painting. It's time you started thinking of how to make your mother happy, says Vicki. Oh, he says, how about over here (above his dresser)--he stand on a hassock. You're not listening to me! accuses Vicki. This will look good, he says, hanging it on a nail already in the wall. I suppose it's as good as any, says Vicki, upset--I never should have brought that picture here. There, says David, stepping away to admire it--that's a good spot--I can see it from all around the room. Vicki turns and looks. David straightens it, and asks how it looks. Strange, says Vicki. that's the reason I like it so much, he says, it's different. Somehow, says Vicki, I think it looks like it belongs in this room. You can see it from over here very well, says David--I can sit and watch it, all day long. Laura comes in. I've hung it up, he says, taking her by the hand--doesn't it look cool? Oh, David, she says, I've given it some thought and decided what must be done--mothers aren't always the wonderful creatures children would like them to be--and I'm going to do something you're not going to like. She reaches for the painting. Don't take my painting! cries David, grabbing her arm. David! she says. Don't take it, he begs. But it's very bad for you! she says. "If you take it," he warns, "then I won't talk to you--ever!" You don't understand! she says. I mean it, he says. Very well, if that's the way you feel, she says--there are some things you're just going to have to learn for yourself. She leaves his room. I'm sorry, Mother! he calls after her--I'm sorry, but I've just got...! Laura is gone. She's mad at me, David tells Vicki. I'd be mad at you, too, says Vicki--she only wants the right things for you. I don't see why she doesn't like the paining, laments David. Because she knows it's a strange painting, says Vicki--and that you shouldn't have it.
David looks at the painting. I know it's supposed to be here, he insists, I just know it! He stares at the painting.
Evans cottage - Maggie checks her watch and turns out lights. She looks out the window for her father. Sam, drunk, comes in. "Let the lower lights be gleaming!" he sings. "Send the beam across the bay--or is it let the lower lights be beaming, send the gleam across the bay." Maggie chuckles, noting that whichever it is, he seems to be doing both. He laughs and hugs her, saying he feels good--can't blame a man for that, can you? There's such a thing as feeling too good, she says, but he says he can't tell her how great it feels, getting rid of that canvas. You get some rest, she orders--you're going to feel terrible in the morning. My mind's too busy to rest, says Sam, slipping off his coat--I've bee thinking all night about a seascape--there's an old, battered hulk on the beach, half in the water, half out. Sounds fine! Says Maggie. I've been thinking about the composition, says Sam, settling a canvas on the easel--get a few lines on here before the night's out. I wish you wouldn't, she says. You go to bed, he encourages, I'll be all right. OK, she says, and goes into her room. Sam whistles as he draws, getting into his work. Suddenly, he stops, his face sickened. He backs away from the canvas.
Sitting on the easel is the beginnings of a repeat of Laura's painting.
David tosses restlessly in his bed. The painting on his wall glows, and his mother's face seems to comes out of the painting and moves toward him. He sits up and sees the floating head growing larger and larger.
NO! he wails, no, stop it, stop it, stay away--stay away! But Laura's face fills his room, terrifying him.
NOTES: It's clear that this mother dearest intends harm to her son, but what, exactly, she intends is not yet clear. Fire is a part of it, and we think perhaps, given the clues, that she is a human version of a Phoenix. Now Sam, thinking he's going to be painting something else, is repeating the same portrait of Laura as before. He is understandably horrified.
It was wrong of Laura to take back the painting after she promised it to David. Considering that her face came out of it at the end of this ep, I wonder if she isn't using it to communicate with him, but why would she be dead set against him having it if she plans to utilize it that way? Did she fear that it would give away her plans to both Vicki and David, and thus thwart them?
Sam is going to have a serious problem if he becomes a one-painting artist, but I can't help but feel that otherworldly forces on David's side are trying to help him and prevent a tragedy.
David questions about having Burke for his father make you wonder if he might be, although, having seen the whole series, I'm pretty sure he's Roger's. She almost seems like a real mother, sometimes, but we know now for sure that she isn't.
Episode #143 - It is night at Collinwood, after a day of strange and unexplained events--but the strangest event of all has just happened to a small boy, and it defies explanation.
Terrified, David calls for his aunt--somebody!--to come to him. Liz races into his room, turns on his light, and asks what's wrong. He can barely speak at first, but when she takes him into her arms, he admits he's scared. Why? she asks. It's that painting, he says, pointing to Laura's on the wall. Where did that come from? she asks. Vicki comes running in and sits on his bed, too. I heard you calling, she says, are you all right? I got scared, he says. Something in that picture frightened him, says Liz. What frightened you? asks Vicki. I saw a face in it! he says--it came right out of the painting--it was my mother's face! The women look at each other, then at the painting.
Liz holds a sobbing David in her arms, assuring him there's no need to cry.
I can't help it, he says, voice trembling. You have nothing to be frightened of, she says, you just had another bad dream, that's all. It wasn't a dream, he insists, it was real, I was wide awake when it happened! Are you sure? asks Vicki. Yes, he says, I saw my mother's face coming right out of that painting. Don't you see? asks Liz, you had a bad dream and what you saw was part of that dream. It wasn't a dream, it was too real! Says David. Sometimes dreams seem very real, explains Liz, especially if they're nightmares, that's all it was. I don't know, he says, I was sure I was wide awake, and it did seem real. It's that painting that's bothering you, says Liz, and it's no wonder--where did it come from? Sam Evans painted it, says Vicki. This surprises Liz. Sam painted that? she asks. Yes, says Vicki. It looks like Mrs. Collins, says Liz. I know, says Vicki. Why would Sam paint Mrs. Collins, especially like that? asks Liz. I don't know, says Vicki, all I know is that he wanted to get rid of it, and he gave it to me--David saw it and wanted to hang it in here. I'm not sure it ought to be here, says Liz, you don't want it anymore, do you, David? I guess not, he says. Then I'll take it away, she says, and goes to do so. Suddenly, David climbs out of bed and blocks her way. Don't take my picture away! he pleads. Why? she asks. I have a funny feeling about it, he says, that I should keep it. That doesn't make any sense, says Liz. Just the same, I want it, he says. But it's troubling you, darling, she points out. No it isn't, he says, I want it--please, Aunt Elizabeth! All right, we'll talk about it in the morning, she says, leading him back to bed--do you feel better now? Yes, he says. Vicki asks if she can get anything, tucking him into bed. No, I'm OK, he assures her, good night, he tells Vicki and Liz, and hugs the latter. Call me if you need me, says Liz. I will, he says, but after they've gone, he gets out of bed and goes over to stare at the painting of his mother, and the unfinished figure in the foreground.
These recurring nightmares David is having are starting to worry me, Liz tells Vicki down in the drawing room. Liz sits at the desk. I can't imagine what causes them, says Liz. I can't, either, agrees Vicki. Having that frightening picture in his room doesn't help--why did you give it to him, you must have known it would upset him, says Liz. I'm not sure why I gave it to him, says Vicki, some kind of an impulse--he was so insistent about having it--he seemed to want it so much. Has Mrs. Collins seen it? asks Liz. Yes, says Vicki. What did she say? asks Liz. She was mystified by it, says Vicki, when I showed it to her, she seemed very frightened--she was very insistent that it shouldn't hang in David's room. I must say I agree with her, says Liz. I understand that Mrs. Collins came here to take David away with her, says Vicki--if David goes, you won't need me here anymore. I'm not sure he'll be leaving, says Liz--I told Laura she could have David if he wanted to go with her--and if she could prove she could do more for him than I can--I'm not so sure she's good for David. But she needs him so badly, protests Vicki.
But does he need her? asks Liz--he keeps having these nightmares--I'm not at all sure it's a good idea for him to go with her because her presence here seems to deeply disturb him--I don't like it at all.
David has his crystal ball on his window ledge. He looks into it, then at Laura's painting, puzzled. He goes over to the painting, drags over a chair, stands on it and gazes at his mother's face with tremendous concentration.
Collinsport - We see cars driving up and down the road. At the Evans cottage, Sam cleans brushes. He works on a painting, whistling, stop, stares at it, and goes to answer the knock at his door. It's Vicki, and David is with her. I didn't expect to see you again so soon, says Sam. I brought you a visitor, says Vicki. Hello, Davy, says Sam. I hope we're not disturbing you, says Vicki. Not at all, says Sam, come on in, take your coats off. Sam tells Vicki this is Maggie's long day at the coffee shop; she'll be sorry she missed her. I promised David we wouldn't stay too long, says Vicki, he just wanted to thank you for the painting you gave me yesterday--David saw it and admired it, so I let him hang it in his room. I see, says Sam, I'm glad you like it, Davy. He sits beside David on the sofa. I like it a lot, says David, it looks just like my mother. That's the highest of praise, says Sam. My Aunt Elizabeth wants to take it away, says David, but I'm not going to let her--I want to keep it with me always. I'm flattered that you want it that much, says Sam. I do--it's so scary! Says David. I'm afraid there are other people who will agree with you on that. I don't mean that I don't like it, says David, because I love scary things! Then it has fallen into the right hands, says Sam, patting David's hand. Why did you paint my mother? asks the boy. Because she's a very beautiful lady, says Sam. I know, says David, but why did you paint her that way, standing in all of the fire? I'll tell you something, says Sam--never ask an artist why he paints a certain subject. Oh...why not? asks David. Because he never knows why, says Sam--a painting is something that just happens. But you must have had a reason for painting her that way! says David. No particular reason, says Sam. But you must have, what is it? insists David. You're asking too many questions, Vicki tells him. But I've got to know why he painted my dream, says David. Your dream? Asks Sam. He's been having nightmares and your picture reminds him of them, says Vicki. It's a strange painting, says Sam, like something out of a nightmare. My mother's the same in your picture as she is in my dream, says David--wearing the same expression on her face. Tell me about your dream, says Sam. I keep dreaming that my mother is standing somewhere, says David, with fire all around her. What happens then? asks Sam. She calls out, but I can't hear what she's saying, says David--all I know is, it keeps getting hotter and hotter, and the fire starts going every place, and I can hardly see out of the smoke--it keeps getting hotter and hotter--then I always wake up. I see, says Sam, rising. I always feel like something's going to happen, says David, but I don't know what it is. That's very curious, says Sam. Why did you paint my dream? Asks David. Maybe we both travel in the same psychic wavelength, suggests Sam--they say thoughts can travel from person to person, maybe the same thing's happening to us. You mean you can read what's going on in my mind? asks David, excited. Something like that, says Sam, in fact I think I know what's going on in your mind right now. You do? asks David. I get a vibration, says Sam, rubbing his beard, saying that you like cider and cookies--am I right? Well, yes, says David. It just so happens, by a stroke of food luck, that there are cookies and cider out there in the refrigerator, so why don't you go help yourself to them. You're kidding me! Says David. I wouldn't kid about that, Sam assures him, it's just that you look hungry. But you haven't answered my question, says David, why did you paint my dream? I can't answer that, says Sam, just say probably it's just coincidence. You really think that? asks David. I really do, says Sam, and those cookies and cider are waiting for you out in the kitchen so why don't you just run and get them. OK, smiles David. And don't worry too much about your dream and my painting, says Sam, I don't think there's any real connection. I was just thinking, there's something spooky, remarks David, and goes to the kitchen. Sam walks past Vicki. I agree with him, he tells her--I didn't want to say so in front of the boy, but the description of his nightmare corresponds exactly with the vision I've been having--a woman standing in fire, the heat, the smoke, everything is the same. Then you do think there's a connection, says Vicki. I don't know, he says, I just know I started another painting this morning and it frightens me. A painting of what? she asks. Sam goes over to the easel. It started to be a seascape, he explains, but it turned into this. Vicki comes over to look. it's another woman in fire! exclaims Vicki. I don't know why I painted her, says Sam, it's the last thing I'd ever want to paint in the world--but I don't seem able to help myself!
We see it looks like a replica of the first, with a white silhouette being held in the arms of a winged woman surrounded by flames.
I can't get the vision of this woman out of my head, says Sam--this really doesn't make any sense at all. It really doesn't, agrees Vicki--is it going to be Laura Collins again? I don't know, says Sam--it wasn't supposed to be her when I started the one before--but the face came in later. Vicki points to the white silhouette and asks what he's going to put there. I don't know, he says, agitated, I know something is supposed to be here, I just don't know what. I wonder what it's supposed to be? asks Vicki--it looks like she's holding something. I don't know, he says, I don't know--I don't want to think about it or look at it. He takes a stiff drink. Sorry, he says, but I needed this. It's all right, Vicki assures him. It's just that I need to forget, to drive this vision out of my mind, he says, wiping his face with his hand--if I could obliterate it, I would drink myself to death. He drinks. Something strange happened to me yesterday, says Vicki--it's very hard to explain, but something came over me and made me take that painting back to Collinwood. You don'' want the painting? he asks. No, she says, frankly, it scares me. I can't blame you for that, says Sam. But something made me take it, says Vicki, and later, something made me show it to David, even though I knew it would upset him--something beyond my power--something forced me! that's the same feeling I've had, says Sam. There must be some explanation, insists Vicki. I just want to forget it, and I think it would be wise for you to do the same, advises Sam. What about that painting--can you forget that? asks Vicki. Yes! says Sam, I've got to forget it or I'll lose my mind--I don't want to go back to it--ever! What are you going to do with it? asks Vicki. Slash it, burn it, destroy it, says Sam desperately, I just know I can't work on it, I can't! David calls Vicki and asks her if she wants some cookies. No, I think you've had enough for both of us, she says--go get your coat, it's time to go home. So soon? asks David, disappointed. Yes, says Vicki, your Aunt Elizabeth's going to wonder what happened to us. They put their coats on. David thanks Sam again for the painting. You're very welcome, says Sam. Goodbye, says Vicki. Goodbye, says Sam--remember what I told you--things sometimes are best forgotten. I'll try, says Vicki, and they leave. Sam closes the door after them, pours more booze, and takes a big swallow. He gazes at the painting, drinks more, and sets down the glass.
He goes over to the painting as if drawn by a magnet and begins to work on it again, looking like he's in a trance.
Vicki and David return to Collinwood. Liz calls them. Mrs. Johnson has been looking for David, says Liz--your lunch is ready, she tells her nephew. I'm not hungry, says David. You never are, at mealtime, teases Liz. Do I have to eat lunch today? He ask . Of course, says Liz, and David reluctantly goes to the kitchen. I'm afraid I let him spoil his appetite, says Vicki. He doesn't need any prompting for that, says Liz. We went to Sam Evans' house, explains Vicki, and I let him have some cookies. Why did you go to Sam Evans' house? asks Liz. He wanted to thank him for the painting, says Vicki. I think it was a mistake to take him here, says Liz, but before she can explain why, there's a knock at the door, and Liz goes to answer. A man holds up an ID badge and says he's Lt. Riley, detective for the State Police--I understand a Mrs. Laura Collins is living here. Yes, says Liz. May I see her? the man asks. I suppose so, says Liz, won't you come in. The man thanks her and does so. May I ask what it's about? asks Liz. I'd like to asks her a few questions about a recent death by fire in Phoenix, the man says, holding his hat in his hands. I heard about that, says Liz, have they identified the dead woman? Not yet, says the man, that's why I have to ask Mrs. Collins a few questions. I see, says Liz--Mrs. Collins lives in our cottage, I'll take you there, I'm Mrs., Stoddard, Mrs. Collins' sister in law Then you might be able to identify some of her personal effects, he suggests--some of her belongings were salvaged from the ruins of her apartment--the Phoenix police shipped them on to us--maybe you'd like to take a look at them, see if you can identify anything connected with Mrs. Collins? I'd be glad to, says Liz, if you think I can help. I think you just might, he says. They go into the drawing room, where Vicki waits. Liz introduces them. This will only take a moment, the cop says--there isn't very much, just some small jewelry, that's all the firemen were able to salvage--everything else was destroyed in the fire. He empties the jewelry out of an envelope onto the desk. I might not be able to help you, warns Liz. Take a look anyway, he suggests. She sits at the desk and discards three piece, but says she can identify the fourth--it's a family heirloom, she says, I'd recognize it anywhere, my brother gave it to Mrs. Collins when they were married. Vicki asks to see it, and Liz hands it over. Vicki examines it. That's very strange, she says, Mrs. Collins was wearing one exactly like this the other day, there must be two. That's impossible, says Liz, that locket's been in our family for generations, to my knowledge, there's never been one like it. But there must be, insists Vicki--I remember this distinctly, because she told me a story about it--she told me she had a lock of David's baby hair in it--she always kept it with her. Yes, says Liz, she clipped a lock of David's hair after he was born and put it in that locket--but I'm sure it can't be the one you saw. But it must be, says Vicki--she told me about the hair in it. Let me see if I can open this one up, suggests the cop--he has trouble, but manages to get it open
--and inside is a lock of hair and photos of David as a little boy. Vicki and Liz exchange disturbed looks.
NOTES: So what's going on here? If there aren't two lockets, how could Laura have showed one to Vicki at the cottage--yet here's the same locket, taken out of the fire? Whatever supernatural creature she is, can Laura clone jewelry?
Sam and David are sharing the same creepy dream/vision of Laura, and now that he's gotten rid of the first painting, Sam is being compelled to paint it all over again? Who belongs in the empty white spot? Must be David; it looks just right for him. That would also fit in with David's nightmare of being stuck with his mother in fire.
Notice how much David has changed. He's becoming lovable, eccentric in his love of the supernatural, yes, but a character we want to sympathize with. And as always, Henesy's doing a superb job.
David is perturbed about the painting, too, and I wonder what he saw in his crystal ball when he was looking at it. Like Sam, he is drawn to the painting, frightening as it is, but probably doesn't know why.
Liz is already having doubts about letting David go with his mother, and considering how desperate Laura is to have him with her, that's going to come to a head and explode very soon--and in ways not healthy for Liz.
Clues are building up--who or WHAT is Laura Collins?
Love, Robin
