Episode #(131_)132 - A stranger has visited Collinwood, and her visit has created tension in the great house, particularly in the mind of a small boy who only saw her in a dream.
Back in his bed, David insists to Liz that he DID see his mother--she was calling me--she wanted me to come to her. It was only a dream, insists Liz, try to go back to sleep. I don't want to go back to sleep; I might have that dream again! he cries. There's nothing to be afraid of, she assures him, sitting on his bed--it was only a bad dream. It was the scariest dream I ever had! he says. Try to forget about it, advises Liz, would you like me to read to you?
Only babies get read to, says David disdainfully. Would you like me to sit here with you for a while? She asks. No, he says, I guess I'm OK. Try to get some sleep, she says, tucking him in. He promises to try. Good night, she says, and he says it back. She looks at him once before leaving the turns off the light. David gets out of bed and goes to the window, which he pushes open. Is anyone out there? he calls. Is anyone out there? He looks to the left and right, nervous.
Morning, kitchen - Roger, David, Vicki and Liz sit at the table. (Such a domestic scene!) Roger orders his son to stop playing with his food and eat. Mrs. Johnson made my eggs runny, says David, I don't like runny eggs. Eat your breakfast; stop complaining, Roger orders him. David looks at Liz and asks if he has to eat them. Eat what you can, she says. Roger gives his sister a dirty glance for undermining him. David takes another bite, proclaims that's all he can eat, and asks to be allowed to go play. Not until you finish your lessons, says Liz. I'll finish my lessons later, he insists. Vicki stands and tells him he's way behind in his math lessons already, he's got a lot of catching up to do. I'll catch up this afternoon, he says. That's what you said yesterday and what you'll say tomorrow, Vicki says. Do I have to study? He asks Liz, appealing to a higher court. Do as Miss Winters says, Liz insists, since you've finished your breakfast, go upstairs and do your lessons. OK, he says reluctantly. I'll teach you long division if it kills me, smiles Vicki. It'll probably kill me, complains David. He and Vicki leave. Liz offers Roger more coffee; he gets up to get it himself. When I tell the boy to do something, says Roger, I wish you wouldn't contradict me; it undermines any small authority I might have with him. You're right, I'm sorry, she says. You say I don't pay attention to him, says Roger, but you spoil him--as though he isn't spoiled enough as it is. I suppose I am too indulgent with him, she says, but I couldn't help it after that terrifying experience he had last night. It was only a nightmare, says Roger, small boys often have them--nothing to get excited about. This was more than a nightmare, says Liz, you were there when he woke up, he was trembling all over. I'm glad he was at least afraid, remarks Roger, it proves he's at least more normal than I thought he was. I'm glad you didn't mention last night, says Liz, I want him to forget about it. So do I, says Roger. It was a strange coincidence, says Liz, his dreaming about his mother when Laura was right here in the house. He must have heard us talking about her, says Roger, you know he's always eavesdropping. Whatever the dream was, says Liz, I know it wasn't a pleasant one. What's significant about it? asks Roger. It could mean he doesn't want to see her again, suggests Liz. That's ridiculous, says Roger--how often has he told us he wants to see his mother?--he's said it so many times he sounds like a broken record. Roger drinks his coffee, standing in front of the windows. He doesn't know her, says Liz, he hasn't seen her since he was five years old--she's about as real as one of his imaginary ghosts. You're fishing for excuses, says Roger--you don't want that boy to see his mother. Why would I take that attitude? asks Liz. For a very simple reason, says Roger--because you want to take Laura's place in David's life. Now you're the one who's being ridiculous, she says. Come on, he says, admit it--at least admit there's an element of truth in it. There isn't a particle of truth in it, insists Liz. All right, he says, don't admit it, but the fact still remains--David is the remaining Collins male--the little heir apparent, and you want to keep him under your wing, whether you admit it or not. I want to teach David to be a Collins, yes, she says, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't let him see his mother if he needed to, and if I thought Laura was capable. What makes you think she's not? asks Roger. We're not talking about an ordinary woman, says Liz, we're talking about a woman who was considered totally unbalanced. You saw her last night, did you think she was totally unbalanced? asks Roger. No, says Liz reluctantly, I didn't. If she was totally unbalanced, do you think the doctors would have released her from a mental institution? queries Roger. She may be better, says Liz, but that doesn't mean she's completely cured. You're still looking for excuses, he says. You're the only who's looking for excuses, she accuses--excuses to unload your son. That was uncalled-for, says Roger. No wonder David can't get along with you, says Liz--he knows you don't want him. What if I did? asks Roger, what if I did want him--what difference would it make--if Laura decides to take this to court, they always usually award custody of the child to the mother anyway. Not to a mentally unbalanced mother, says Liz. Oh, you're back to that again, are you? asks Roger. Until I am sure that Laura is all right, I will not allow her to have David, says Liz firmly, I don't care if she does take it to court
--I'll fight it, I'll fight everyone to keep him here, including you! Roger looks at her, lips compressed.
How did I do? asks David, as Vicki corrects his math. 75, says Vicki, that's not very good, David. So I'm not a brain at math, he tells her, I'm a brain at history. I'd like you to be an all around brain, she says--if you go over those multiplication tables again, I'll give you another quiz. Do I have to? he asks. Yes, she says. OK, he agrees. She sits on his bed while he works. Why don't you hate me? asks David. That's an odd question, she says. You should, he says. Should I? she asks. Yes, he says, I left you tied up in the Old House--Matthew could have killed you. He didn't, says Vicki, and you did tell Burke where I was. He stands. I wanted to tell my father first, he says, sitting next to her on the bed, but he wouldn't listen, that's why I had to wait to tell Burke--I was all mixed up and mad--I guess you can't understand that. I think I can, she says--when I was a little girl. . .this isn't getting our math done. Tell me about when you were a little girl, he begs, please? What I was going to say is that I used to get all mixed up and mad, too, she says, because I had no one to talk to. Like a mother or a father? asks David. Yes, she says. You're nicer than I thought you were when you first came here, he says. (The ice is thawing.) That makes me very happy, she tells him, now I'll be even happier when you do your math. Do you still want your mother to come back? he asks. Of course I do, she says, more than anything. I used to want my mother to come back more than anything, he says--I'm not so sure I want see her to anymore. (Big change of feelings there.)
You're overlooking one very important factor, Roger tells Liz down in the kitchen--David adores his mother. He did when he was a baby, says Liz, but she's a stranger now. I bet if she came into the house he would probably throw himself into her arms, says Roger. Possibly--possibly not, says Liz. All right, he says, let's be practical, Laura is coming back to this house and will want to see David--what are you going to do about it? I don't know, she says, but I don't think it wise to let her see David. How are you going to stop her? demands Roger--she has ever legal right to see the boy if she wants to. I suppose she has, says Liz, but I'm worried about the effect it would have on David.
David's room - I don't understand, says Vicki, you used to want your mother to come back. Maybe I still do, I'm not sure, he says. Why not? she asks. I had a scary dream about her last night, he says. What did you dream about? she asks. I'd rather not talk about it, he says, it was just scary, that's all. You're trembling! Points out Vicki. I know, he says, I was thinking about the dream. You're awfully pale, she says, feeling his forehead, are you all right? I don't feel too well, he says. What's the matter? she asks. I guess I'm just tired, he says--I didn't get much sleep last night. Why don't you lie down, she suggests--we can finish your lesson later if you're not feeling well--you want me to call a doctor? No, I'm OK, he says, I just need rest. You call me when you're feeling better, she says, and tucks him into bed after he removes his shoes. She leaves the room. David immediately get out of bed and opens his window, where the wind blows hard. Mother!--Mother! he calls.
Drawing room - Liz sits at the desk, doing paperwork. Roger, wearing work gloves, enters, carrying wood for the fire (he's in a sweater, looking really good). He drops the wood by the fireplace and tells Liz she always prides herself on a reputation for being fair, but in this case, I don't think you're being fair in the least. I'm trying to be, she says. You've always had it in for Laura, admit it, he says, removing the gloves. I wouldn't go that far, says Liz--she wasn't my favorite person in the world when you married her, I'll admit that. You thought she was beneath us, says Roger. I'm not a snob, says Liz, I questioned her motives. Oh, how well I remember those smug little speeches you used to deliver, says Roger, I was an irresponsible fool, and Laura was nothing but a conniving little golddigger--I always thought that ironic, considering your choice of a mate was somewhat far from ideal. He sits beside her and she gives him a dirty look, reminding him they aren't dealing with the past, but the present. I agree, he says, so what are we going to do about Laura? I don't know, she says. I was impressed by the change in her, weren't you? asks Roger. I admit I was, says Liz--she wasn't the flighty little girl I remembered--she seems to have developed a quiet strength. Doesn't that speak well for her? asks Roger. As far as it goes, says Liz--but Laura is virtually a stranger to us--particularly to David--and I'm not going to turn David over to a stranger until I know her much better. Don't you think he should be told she's in Collinsport? asks Roger. I don't see that that's necessary, says Liz. He's going to find out sooner or later, why not tell him now? asks Roger--or are you planning to just surprise her on him, as a sudden shock? No, I want their meeting to be as easy and natural as possible, says Liz--I certainly don't want it to be traumatic for David. Then he should be told so he can prepare, says Roger. I suppose you're right, says Liz. Of course I'm right, says Roger. Vicki enters. She tells Liz she's worried about David--he told her he didn't sleep well last night and seemed to have had a nightmare. He had a terrible nightmare, says Liz--he even walked in his sleep!--Roger stopped him as he was gong out the front door. Whatever he dreamt about, he's still frightened of it, Vicki tells them. Oh, you're making a mountain of a molehill, he had a bad dream, says Roger--it's not worth discussing. Don't be unsympathetic, says Liz. I'm sorry the boy had a bad dream, says Roger, but we have to settle this other matter--Vicki, would you bring David down here please, we have to talk to him. Not now, protests Liz, not when he's not feeling well. What if Laura comes to the house this morning? asks Roger--we've got to be prepared. Laura? asks Vicki, isn't that...? My wife, says Roger, she's back in Collinsport and wants to see David.
That's very odd, says Vicki, David was just talking about her--she was in his dream, he seemed afraid of her. That's nonsense, says Roger. David's a sensitive child, says Liz, if he's already frightened... You saw Laura last night, Roger reminds her--was there anything frightening about her? No, says Liz reluctantly, quite the contrary. Do you think there would be any reason for David to be afraid of her? asks Roger. Possibly none, says Liz. Roger asks Vicki to asks David to come down here. What if he's still asleep? asks Vicki. Wake him, it's very important, says Roger. Vicki leaves the drawing room, but she first looks back at both of them. Roger sits back down as Liz regards him.
Mother, are you out there? calls David from his window. Are you out there?
Over and over, David calls to his mother. Vicki enters and says she thought he was resting. I guess I'm not as sleepy as I thought I was, he says. Were you talking to someone? she asks--I thought I heard your voice as I was coming upstairs. No, it wasn't me, he says, you must have heard someone else--can I go out and play? Not now, she says, you've got to go downstairs--your father and Aunt Elizabeth want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to them, he insists. Don't be difficult, she says, they want to see you, now go one, scoot. Do I have to? he asks. Yes, she says. Might as well get it over with, he says. Get what over with? she asks. Never mind, he says, and leaves the room. Vicki closes the window.
Let me tell him about it, Liz tells he brother--I don't know how he's going to take the news and you can be quite tactless sometimes. Thank you very much, says Roger sarcastically. It's true, she says. I don't care who tells him, as long as it's told, says Roger.. David joins them, and Liz tells him she wants to talk with him. They settle on the sofa. Miss Winters said you weren't feeling well, says Liz--are you feeling better now? He doesn't answer. What's the matter, David, has the cat got your tongue? Asks Roger when David doesn't reply. I know what you're going to tell me, says David--I wish you'd say it and get it over with--my mother's here, isn't she? Liz looks at Roger, astounded. It's true, isn't it? asks David. Why yes, she says, it is. Did Miss Winters tell you? asks Roger. No, says David, I've known since last night. How? asks Liz. I saw her in my dream, he says, I saw a lady in a blue coat--she sat over there and kept looking into the fire and calling my name
--I knew she was my mother because she wanted to take me away. Liz looks at Roger again. David asks if he can go to his room now. Don't you want us to tell you more about your mother? asks Liz. I know all there is to know, he says--can I go? I suppose so, if you want to, says Liz. I do, says David, and leaves the room. Well, says Roger, that was certainly strange. Certainly was, agrees Liz. I imagined a hundred different ways he would take the news, says Roger, but I certainly didn't think he would be quiet and thoughtful--it's so unlike him. How could he have known what I was going to tell him? asks Liz. What I said earlier must be true, says Roger, he must have heard us talking about her. Roger, says Liz, he was able to describe the coat he had on--it was blue, and he said he saw her sitting over there and she was--he said she kept staring into the fire and I noticed that, too--how could he have known all those things? He probably saw Laura, says Roger. He couldn't have, says Liz, he was sound asleep when she was here. We thought he was asleep, says Roger, he must have sneaked down and taken a peek--that's the only logical explanation I can think of. It's logical, agrees Liz, but it is correct? What are you saying? asks Roger--are you saying the boy has extrasensory perception? I don't know what I think, says Liz, I just know I looked in on him earlier and he was asleep--he was still asleep when Laura left the house--there is no way on earth he could have known how to describe those things.
David opens his window and calls. "Mother, I can feel you watching me," he says--"are you out there?--are you out there?--are you out there?"
NOTES: David's mother's presence has disturbed him. He wants her back in his life, yet seems terrified of her, proven by the nightmare and the fact that he keeps calling to her.
Liz is right--they shouldn't turn David over to a total stranger, and Laura is that right now. What about Sam's painting? What does it mean? Why is Laura so pre-occupied with different forms of fire?
Roger seems to be softening toward David, but he still probably would prefer if Laura took him away with her. Liz feels differently, however, she wants the heir apparent under her careful Collins tutelage. Liz is right in her concern, and we sense there's going to be a battle between Laura and Liz down the line.
Weird that David has trouble with math, I thought that was usually a girl thing. He seems a lot warmer toward Vicki now, even if he does seem to delay his lessons as much as possible.
Episode #133 - Someone who used to live in Collinsport has returned, and her return has affected the lives of many people--particularly one man whose life was changed by her many years ago.
Burke is on the phone in his room at the Inn, receiver in one hand, the rest of the phone in the other. He's pacing. I don't want to hear about the cannery or the stock market, he complains, something happened here that changes everything--the one person who can prove I wasn't driving that car 10 years ago has just turned up--yes, Blair, Laura Collins--I'd given her up--they told me her case was hopeless at the sanitarium--that's right--yeah, here at the hotel--no, I don't know what her plans are--I'm going to find out--this woman has the power to give me the one thing I want most in this life--and I'm going to get it. He hangs up.
Vicki's narration continues: Just as one man is driven by a desperate kind of hope, so is another driven by confusion--and fear.
Sam stands looking out the window of the cottage, smoking a pipe. He goes to the easel and lifts off the cover, staring in horror at the picture h painted of a woman engulfed in flames.
Sam rubs his hair and hastily covers the painting when Maggie comes out, cheerily offering him breakfast. He refuses. You've got to eat something, she says. I don't want anything to eat, he says. You haven't been eating breakfast the last couple of days, she notes--as far as I can remember, you haven't been eating much of anything. I don't want to hear about my drinking habits this morning, complains Sam. I'm not talking about that, says Maggie--I'm talking about eating to keep the body supplied with all the necessary vitamins. Vitamins?--what's that? asks Sam, chuckling--a new brand of bourbon? Yes, she laughs, that's just what it is--except it comes in a solid state, looks like eggs, and it's on the table right now--how about having some? I couldn't, he says, it would just stick in my throat. What's the matter, she asks, why are you going on like this? Nothing, he says. Something's bugging you, she says. Something's always bugging me, says Sam. I mean more than usual, she points out. It's my privilege, he says, rising--it's one of the privileges of the Constitution of the United States--gives me the right to be bugged wherever and whenever I so choose. OK, that's your privilege, she agrees. Also, he says, the right of privacy. That, too, she says, but whatever this is, it's getting at you like nothing I've ever seen before. You're going to be late for work, he says. I've got time, she insists, time to make sure you eat something. I won't die of starvation, he assures her. Come over to the Inn, she suggests, I'll give you lunch or whatever you want. Sure, do that, he says. Are you going to get some work done today? she asks. Sure, he says, returning to the easel. You keep saying that and I don't see you doing much, she says. I'm working on a canvas, he says angrily, why do you keep checking on me? Because you've got too much talent to waste, she says, putting on her coat--hey, what's the subject matter, she says. She starts to remove the cover from the painting, but he yells NO and violently pushes her away--don't look at it! he says. You've never covered a canvas before, she says. There's always s first time, he says, it's a new work in progress and I don't want anybody to see it. Even me? she asks. That's right, he says. You always let me see your work, and ask my opinion about it, too, she reminds him. Why do you think I covered it if I didn't want you to see it? he asks--just leave me alone about the whole thing? All right, I'm sorry, she says, I didn't mean to push you. I appreciate your interest, your belief in me, your support, he says, honestly I do. You've been acting this way ever since that woman came into the restaurant, says Maggie. Oh? he asks, what's that have to do with it? Did you ever find out who she is? she asks--is she who you thought she was? Yeah, he says. Who is she? asks Maggie. Laura Collins, says Sam. Oh, says Maggie, what has she got to do with you? Fog, notes Sam, very heavy--not good for the fishermen. What is she...? begins Maggie, but stops. She looks at the covered canvas.
Burke knocks at Laura's door and calls to her--it's me, Burke, he says, but there is no answer, and he retreats.
Maggie serves a customer in the restaurant. Burke enters and bids her good morning. She offers coffee. Good idea, he says. You won't say that after you drink it, she predicts with a chuckle, pouring. I'm looking for someone, a woman, says Burke, she's staying here, so she must have come in here. Is she blonde and very attractive? asks Maggie. Yes, says Burke, have you seen her? There is a woman who used to live here, says Maggie--yeah--you're talking about Laura Collins? Have you seen her? asks Burke impatiently. Not yet, she says, she mentioned she knew you. What did she say about me? he asks. I said you had a big chip on your shoulder, she says, and she said you weren't always that way. That's interesting, what else did she say? asks Burke. Maggie takes a cup of coffee for herself and sits in the stool next to him. That was about all on the subject of you, she says. Did she say why she'd come back? asks Burke. Not exactly, says Maggie, visiting was the impression I got. How did she seem--her behavior? asks Burke. She was very nice to me, says Maggie. Nothing unusual about her? asks Burke.
She seemed nervous, explains Maggie, not too sure of herself--I suppose you might even say she was strange--I don't even know what I'm trying to say--she comes in, sits quietly, alone, doesn't want to talk much, or eat much--doesn't eat anything--just sits there with a cup of coffee--which she seldom drinks--I don't think she's finished a cup yet. Burke helps himself to more coffee. He gives her some, too. I was just a kid, says Maggie, but I remember you used to go with her. She was quite a girl, says Burke softly, I don't think I've ever met anyone as fun or exciting to be with. When a man says that about woman, she must have meant an awful lot, says Maggie. Yeah, he says, if she'd married me, our lives would have been different in this town. He sits back beside her. You never got her out of your system-- she's married, or have you forgotten? Asks Maggie. That isn't and never was a marriage, says Burke--never could be, either. What does her coming back mean to you? asks Maggie. I waited 10 years to talk to her, says Burke, 10 years to hear her say a few important words. Sam enters the restaurant. Finally got hungry, says Maggie. Yes, says Sam, I guess, a little. Burke invites him to sit down; I'm just leaving, he tells Sam. No, I didn't mean... says Sam. Relax, says Burke, things are looking up--this town's just about ready to come alive--you'll never guess who's back? Who? asks Sam. The one person who can change everything--Laura Collins, announces Burke. Oh, says Sam, that so? How does that grab ya? asks Burke nastily. It doesn't says Sam, taking a sip of coffee. I bet--start sweating, says Burke, and leaves. Maggie stares after him. Sam looks as if he wishes he could just disappear.
Maggie stuffs her hands into her the pockets of her uniform and asks what Burke meant when he told Sam he could start sweating. Sam, sitting at the counter, says that's the way he likes to talk--he likes to hear the sound of his own voice when he acts tough. Come on, Pop, she says, this is Maggie you're talking to--now what did he mean? He didn't mean anything, says Sam. I don't believe that, she says. Then don't believe it, says Sam. Why did you act like you didn't know Laura Collins was back in town? asks Maggie. I didn't say I didn't know she was back in town, he says. You made it seem that way, insists Maggie. you're imagining it, says Sam. What does Laura Collins mean to you? asks Maggie. Nothing, says Sam. You've got to be honest, please! she begs. I thought I came here to get something to eat, says Sam angrily, rising to his feet--I didn't expect an interrogation! He starts to leave, and she apologizes and tells him to sit down. No, he says, putting on his hat, I've lost the little appetite I had anyhow. On his way out, however, he runs into Laura. They stare at each other a moment.
Hello, Sam, she says. Hello, he says back. Do you remember me?--Laura Collins, she says. Of COURSE I remember you, he says with a half-hearted smile. It's been a long time, she says. Yes, a lot of years, he agrees. You look the same, she says. Alcohol is a preservative, he jokes--you're just as beautiful as ever. Hardly, she says, how are you painting these days? Still resisting abstractionism, he says, I seem to be painting the same fishing boats 50 times, the same seascapes--I still paint my portraits for the people who commission them, he says. Good for you, she says, grinning. Back in town for good this time? he asks. I don't know, she says, taking off her gloves. Have you seen your family yet? he asks. All except David, she tells him. He's a good looking boy, says Sam. So they've told me, she replies. I didn't think we'd ever see you again, says Sam. Well, you almost didn't, she says. I know you weren't too happy when you were here, says Sam--whatever made you come back? Let's just say some unfinished business, she says. I see, says Sam--I hope you accomplish everything you came back to do. I hope so, too, she says. Maybe I'll see you in here, he suggests. Maybe, she says. Well, says Sam, I've got a wet canvas waiting for me--it's nice to have you back--goodbye. He bids Maggie goodbye and leaves. Laura sits at a table. Maggie brings her coffee. So you're Sam's daughter, says Laura. In person, says Maggie. At the risk of sounding ancient, says Laura, I think I remember you when you were this high--I wish I'd known sooner. As a matter of fact, says Maggie, laughing, we were all wondering who you were. All? asks Laura. I'm a little ashamed, says Maggie--confession time--I've been trying to find out who you were for the last couple of days. Were you? asks Laura. Do you remember the other day when you came in, says Maggie, bringing over her own coffee cup and sitting with Laura--you sat with your back to the rest of the room--and my father came in and saw you from behind--he said you looked familiar but couldn't quite figure out who you were. He should have introduced himself, says Laura. Maggie makes a face. This may be hard to believe, but he must have been a little shy, says Maggie--he asked me to find out--now you must have been aware of all my questions. I was, says Laura, but I understand. Your arrival in this town has caused a lot of interest--Burke Devlin was in here a little while ago and he was looking for you. Oh, she says, not happy. He must have turned the town inside-out trying to find you, says Maggie--he's a very through man, I can't imagine how you eluded him. I've been off by myself a great deal, says Laura. I'd say he wanted to see you very badly, says Maggie--in fact, he said he's been waiting 10 years to see you. Burke has always been a very determined person, says Laura. He asked a lot of questions about you, says Maggie. I'm sure he did, says Laura. I'd say you were very much on his mind, says Maggie, rising from the table. Could I ask you for a favor
--if you see Burke again and he asks about me, would you say you haven'[t seen me? OK, agrees Maggie uncertainly. I know I have to face him ultimately, says Laura, but I'd rather not do so just now. Maggie, unsure about this, walks away. Burke enters the restaurant and looks at Laura, who doesn't see him. He walks around in front of her. She turns and looks up at him. They stare at each other raptly.
Hello, Laura, says Burke. Hello, Burke, she says. This is something I never expected, he says. Nor I, she agrees. Can we talk? he asks. I was just leaving, she says. It will just take a minute, he assures her. All right, she says, and he joins her at the table. I've been waiting 10 years for this moment--10 years of planning this conversation--considering what I would say--wondering whether to be angry or calm--wondering what you would say--now that the moment's here, I find myself at a loss for words. Let me try, then, she says--how are you? In a word, bitter, he says. I knew you would be, she says. Did I have an alternative? He asks. None whatsoever, she says. Thank you, he says, at least I wasn't wrong about that--is it possible you're more beautiful than I imagined. She smiles uncomfortably. He asks how she is, she says perhaps a great deal better off than ever before. You've changed, he notes. In what way? she asks. I don't know, he says, but you're different, I can sense it. I've been through a lot, she says. I tried to see you at the sanitarium, he says, they said your condition was hopeless. They thought so, she says, it's been quite a struggle to get where I am--to do what I'm doing. What are you doing? he asks--why did you come back to town. To do what has to be done, she says. You know, says Burke, putting a cigarette in his mouth, you've given me the most hope I've had in years. He lights up. She gazes into the flame. Have you seen Roger yet? asks Burke. He blows out the match, interrupting her concentration. Yes, she says. I bet he was thrilled to see you, says Burke. That's not important, she says--I've come back because I know now what it is I want more than anything else--David. I'm glad to hear you say that, says Burke--that boy needs you. I need him--more than you can imagine, says Laura--have you seen him? Many times, says Burke--we've become very good friends--he confides in me. Does he? she asks, I'm very happy to hear that. He's a very unusual kid, says Burke, very bright, sensitive--he doesn't take to too many people, but for some reason, he's taken to me. You were always very easy to take to, she says. Was I? he asks--it's hard to remember what I was like in those days. I can remember, she says. I'll tell you something about David, says Burke--he's the kind of son I'd have like to have had--he's the kind of son we could have had. Yes, Burke, she says, exactly the kind. (??) He's very much like you, the way you used to be, says Burke. I'm not that way anymore, says Laura. How do you stand with Roger? asks Burke. I've asked him for a divorce and custody of David, she says. And if you get those things, what then? asks Burke. I'll make a new life for David and myself, says Laura. Let me talk about the practical realities for a moment--I came back to Collinsport to prove my innocence, he says--you're the key to that, Laura--how do you feel about that? I must solve my own problems first, she says, then and only then will I be able to deal with the other practical realities.
But they will be dealt with, won't they? asks Burke. They will, she assures him, rising--it's been very nice seeing you--I trust we'll meet again. We will, I assure you, he says. They say goodbye and she leaves. Burke sits back down, smokes, and ponders this.
Sam paints, seemingly in a trance. No, he says, grabbing his wrist and stopping himself from working.
He hurls his brush at the painting of the woman surrounded by flames, yellow NO! over and over.
NOTES: Once again, Laura expresses too much interest in fire. And we see Sam painting something he does not want to paint, but feels compelled to do so nevertheless. He actually grabbed hold of his own arm to stop himself!
Burke hopes Laura will be able to prove his innocence, but one senses that Laura doesn't want to mess things up with Roger until she has David safely in her custody. If Roger thinks she's trying to destroy him by implicating him in the manslaughter case, he won't even consider turning David over to her. While I sense Burke still feels attraction to Laura, I don't get the impression the feeling is mutual--she had tunnel vision, and all she wants is David.
Once again, we see Maggie and Sam at loggerheads over his inability to share his problems with her. If it's not one thing, it's something else, and this grows tiring to watch over and over again. She's your daughter and she loves you, Sam--tell her!
Laura is definitely creepy somehow.
Love, Robin
