Free Alma Mater by Rita Mae Brown Page A

say that Vic is one of the most beautiful women they have ever seen. Mom, too. I kind of feel like a donkey next to two thoroughbreds. Give me some advice. Real life stuff."
    Chris propped the paper on her knees. A breeze swept in through the open windows. She scribbled in her large, neat hand, the letters slanting rightward. "Mignon, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For starters. And you're at the coltish stage. You won't look good now. You'll look better later, if you take care of yourself. Worry about what's on the inside more than what's on the outside. That's the extent of my advice." She signed it, "The Nonauthority."
    A long silence ensued while Mignon digested the response. Finally
     
    the next installment arrived with a drawing of a pig. "Are you telling me I have to lose weight?"
    Chris wrote, "Yes. If you're bitching and moaning about Vic and your mother being so beautiful, do you really want to be standing next to them being less than the perfect you? Now I have a question for you. What's Charly like?"
    A shooting star arched over the James, a flashing tail silver as a trout trailing behind it. Chris took it as a good sign.
    Back came Mignon's note. "Charly is hot. I wish I had a boyfriend like him. He's smart, too."
    Chris felt a sliver of jealousy, then dismissed it. "Mignon," she wrote, "you will have the boyfriend that's right for you. Of course, if you lost the weight, who's to say you couldn't steal Charly from your sister. (Just kidding.)"
    The notes flew back and forth until finally Chris wrote, "I'm sleepy. I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams."
     

    T
    he sun's round rim climbed over the horizon. The heavy silvery mist enshrouding the river turned pink, then red, then gold. It would be nine o'clock or so before the mist lifted today, and
    when the sun rose above the James, the whole river would be colored bronze as that mist would reach for the impossibly deep blue sky.
    Vic silently walked along the river's edge. She couldn't sleep, so she thought she'd greet the dawn, her favorite time.
    When she turned back toward the dock she saw her mother—a middle-aged Venus slipping through the pale silver light, striding toward the dock.
    They met and then walked to the boat, wordlessly getting in and casting off, R. J. at the oars. Because of the fog, she rowed only a hun dred yards off shore. A larger craft wouldn't see her until it was too late, although she doubted anyone else would be out on the water now. If anyone was fishing, they'd be quietly drifting.
    "Dreaming with your eyes open?" R. J. asked, resting her arms on the oars.
    "Sort of." Vic noticed her mother's strong hands on the oars, the muscles in her forearms. Had R. J. given birth to sons, they'd have grown up to play for the Miami Dolphins or the Kansas City Chiefs.
    "Great that Bunny retired the trophy. She needs it."
     
    "Trouble with Uncle Don again? I thought that was over."
    "Oh, it is, but it takes people a long time to come back. Trust bro ken is difficult to mend. He swears on a stack of Bibles that Nora meant nothing to him, he'll never do it again." R. J. inhaled the mois ture of rich air. "Who knows, maybe he even means it. I worry about her being alone. You see, no matter what happens, I have you and Mignon. I'm better off, I think."
    "Mother." Vic folded her hands together as if in prayer. "1 don't know if you'd have said that when I wrecked Dad's car my junior year in high school."
    "I said plenty else." She laughed, the sound enlarging as it traveled over the water.
    "Guess Mignon and I are pretty expensive."
    R. J. replied, "Well, that's part of motherhood, but you've worked every summer since you were fourteen. You've helped out."
    "If I quit school now, I'll get most of this year's tuition back. I can go to work and help more." Vic's voice, quiet, seemed in counterpoint with the lap of the water.
    "Absolutely not. Vic, you get that idea right out of your head."
    Vic lowered her voice, her tone resonating, deeper.