Absence of Grace (18 page)

“Yep. I can see that. In your shoes, I wouldn’t even want Elmer in my store.”

It was the kind of sally he expected her to laugh at and return. Instead she looked startled. He handed over his credit card, and she made an imprint.

Then she gave him a sharp look. “Two hundred, right?”

He shrugged. He’d been teasing, but he didn’t mind paying the extra fifty. He could afford it and he suspected neither Clen nor Hailey, into whose pockets the money would go, were all that prosperous. But the way Hailey was acting...he tried to recall if she’d looked as strained when he first walked into the gallery. He didn’t think so.

Shaking off his discomfort, he carried the portrait home where he hung it in his writing room. Over the next few days as he wrote, he began to imagine the woman in the portrait reading over his shoulder. Eventually, he found himself writing what he thought might please her.

An odd fancy. And certainly not one he planned to share.

After two days of off-and-on rain, the sun was back out, and the water was clear and still. Clen went to the harbor to sketch. She picked a vantage point and Kody turned in a circle or two before settling to sleep beside her—his nose almost touching her thigh—the most peaceful and undemanding companionship in all of Wrangell. The boat she’d chosen was a grizzled one with scabrous paintwork and a superstructure dark orange with decay. Rather like an old man startled awake and not given enough time to wash and dress properly. It rubbed against the dock as if responding to her attention.

As she began to draw, her thoughts were pulled back to the question she’d been debating the last two days—was she going retrieve the portrait of Thomasina from Hailey’s gallery.

“Most people sure wouldn’t see that boat as a potential work of art.”

She peered up at the man who had spoken, shading her eyes against the glare, but she’d already recognized the voice. “It’s the awfulness that makes it interesting.”

Gerrum crouched next to her and rubbed Kody’s ears. “You just might find old Rolf even more interesting than his boat.”

“Is he the one with the beard?”

Gerrum nodded, still patting Kody who pushed against his hand with obvious pleasure. Gerrum was the only person besides the Jeffers and her that Kody seemed to like.

“Beard is an understatement. I suspect he has a Sikh or two in his gene pool.”

Clen smiled and flipped to a fresh page, deciding to give in to the impulse that had nudged at her since she’d met this man. “Can you hold that pose for a minute?”

When he nodded in agreement, she began to sketch. With quick, minimal strokes, she drew an outline of him squatting next to Kody. Then, with that blocked in, she switched her attention to his face. His gaze was lowered watching the sketch progress.

She drew the shape of his face then focused on his eyes, trying to capture their half-closed shape along with the smile lines at the corners that hinted at good humor and an underlying steadiness. The next time she glanced at him, it was to find he’d shifted from watching the progress of his portrait to examining her.

“That’s amazing.” He nodded toward the sketch. “I knew you were talented because I’ve seen your work in Hailey’s gallery. I just didn’t know you could draw that fast.”

She shook her head, continuing to add to the rough sketch. “This is only preliminary. I’m just trying to lock down some details so I can work on it later. For one thing, you’re not going to want to hold that pose for long.”

“Too true. As a matter of fact...”

“Sure, go ahead. Take a break.” She continued to add to the sketch as he stood and stretched. Then he dropped down again. She wasn’t expecting that, but she wasn’t going to quibble. If he was willing to continue to pose, she’d push it as long as she could. She narrowed her eyes, noticing how the light slid off his hair—hair straight and shiny as the fur of a wet otter. Black, but in the bright sunlight, there was a faint sheen of something lighter. Not red, though. Umber, maybe.

Usually she stuck to graphite or charcoal for portraits, but it might be interesting to do a watercolor of him, if she could just get the mouth right. Frowning, she rubbed out a line and redrew it.

He stood. “Sorry, but I need to get going. I’ve got clients to pick up. I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime, though. Unless once was enough?” He gestured toward the drawing with a question in his eyes.

It wasn’t. She’d caught him in profile, but she wanted to draw him straight on as well as from the other side. It always fascinated her how much asymmetry was present in every face. She’d once experimented with drawing half faces and then making the second halves exact mirror images, and what resulted was always off.

“If you’re willing, I’d like to do more.”

“Tell you what, you let me show you around and I’ll sit for you. We can even combine the two.”

Her head started shaking before she’d consciously decided. “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kody picked up on her agitation and whined softly.

Gerrum leaned over to pat Kody. “You mean because you’ll get teased about it afterward.”

That wasn’t exactly what she was worried about, but it would do. “It’s a blood sport around here.”

He grinned. “Second only to gossip. If there isn’t something juicy to chew on already, teasing’s a way to develop new material. But you’ve been holding your own.”

Because she’d been careful since the jet boat ride not to give them anything further to work with. So, was it worth another bout of teasing for an opportunity to do more sketches of him?

“So what were you thinking?” The words slipped out before her usual caution could stop them.

“Tomorrow’s your day off, right?”

Everyone in Wrangell seemed to know she had Thursdays off.

“It so happens, I’m free, too. We could make a day of it. Take the jet boat. Leave at ten, be back around four. Hit all the highlights. The Stikine, the hot springs, the garnet reef. How does that sound?”

Like a date. No. She needed to say no. But she did want more sketches of him, and it would be nice to see the Stikine. When she and Paul were here before there had been no jet boat to make the trip possible. But there was also the unresolved issue of his and Hailey’s possible ‘coupleness.’

“O…kay.” She was going to regret it. She was sure of it.

“And bring a bathing suit. For the hot springs.”

A bathing suit. Right. As if that was happening. Although, it might be kind of fun. She’d have to think about it. The suit had been lurking in the bottom of her one suitcase for more than a year. Maybe she would take it along and just see how things went.

“See you tomorrow at ten.” He smiled, and when he did, his eyes almost disappeared into the fans of sun-touched lines at each corner. She wished she could draw fast enough to capture the way he looked in that moment.

He left, and after working for a time on the sketch of Gerrum, she switched back to the one of the boat, remembering as she did so the visit with Hailey.

How could she have forgotten how good it felt to receive praise for her work? Of course, it hadn’t happened in a very long time. Probably not since she graduated from college. Paul had always discouraged her sketching, and he particularly disliked her drawing him. Perhaps because he sensed it was her way of searching for the real man beneath the polished surface.

She shrugged off the memory of Paul, but what was harder to dislodge were the memories of Thomasina set loose by seeing the portrait framed and hung in Hailey’s shop. That had brought a flood of remembrance both positive and painful.

She missed Thomasina, although she was the one who failed to keep in touch. At graduation, Thomasina had held onto her hand and asked her to write. She’d said she would, but she hadn’t. And now, so many years had passed, it was too late to do anything about it.

But there was one thing she could do. Retrieve the portrait.

“Do you have radar or something?” Hailey asked when Clen walked into ZimoviArt.

“What do you mean?”

“I sold one of your pictures.” Hailey frowned.

Clen thought that odd, since the news made her feel buoyant. “Which painting and who bought it?”

“The portrait.” Hailey turned away to fiddle with something. “A pleasant, middle-aged man bought it.”

Puzzlement at Hailey’s odd lack of enthusiasm was replaced by a sinking feeling in Clen’s gut. “You didn’t. Please...you didn’t. I...I came back to tell you I decided I didn’t want to sell it. Where did he go? What did he look like? Maybe I can catch him, get it back.”

The deep bellow of the ferry’s departure horn interrupted them.

“I’m so sorry, Clen.” Hailey looked as sick as Clen was feeling.

Well, Clen had wanted to exorcise Thomasina from her life. Now, it seemed, she’d succeeded.

Marymead College - Mead,
Kansas

The autumn of her junior year, Clen struggled with bouts of nausea accompanied by tremors and a feeling of deep foreboding. When she was little, she’d been afraid of the dark, and these incidents reminded her of that, except the fear was stronger and lasted longer.

Whenever she felt an attack coming on, she would look for somewhere to hide until it passed. As a result, she’d become familiar with the location of all the janitors’ closets, the least visited parts of the library, and a storage room in the basement. If anyone did see her and asked if she was having a problem, she said she had cramps. And that worked for a time, until the spells came more frequently and lasted longer.

“Clen, nobody has cramps four times a month,” Maxine said. “You need to do something about it.”

“I’m okay.”

Maxine didn’t argue. She simply told Thomasina, who came to their room where Clen was shivering under the covers.

Thomasina sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Clen’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“No. I’m c-cold.”

“How often does this happen, Clen?”

“It’s n-nothing. Just cramps.”

“How often?”

“M-maybe once, twice a week.”

“And you’ve lost weight.”

“I don’t feel like eating.”

“I’m going to insist you see a doctor.”

A spasm caused her to roll into a ball.