Indelible (8 page)

Dazed and exhausted, Natalie leaned against the door between Fleur and Lena, the manager she’d hired on sight when the sophisticated, strong-featured woman interviewed. She could hardly believe their success, not simply in sales, but also community goodwill. People were delighted to have a gallery of this caliber.

“What a night.” Lena spoke for all of them, her eyes alight.

Fleur laughed. “When that reporter went off on—wasn’t it the search-and-rescue hero? Trevor MacDaniel?”

“It was.” Natalie sighed. Not her favorite part of the night.

“Obvious history.” Lena raised an eyebrow.

For a second Natalie thought she meant her brief fantasy relationship, then realized she meant Jazmyn Dufoe.

“And the date he brought … 
Really?
”

Given her experience with Aaron and Paige, she wasn’t at all surprised someone who looked like Kirstin appealed to him—and he to her. Strength and beauty. Natural draws. Aaron hadn’t chosen a trophy wife—she’d chosen him. Where he imagined substance, there was only froth, but for his sake, they all kept looking.

Lena turned to Fleur. “Can’t complain, though. He bought
Musings in Blue.
”

“He did?” Natalie and Fleur said together.

“Wow.” Fleur brought her hands together, beatific. “My first sale at gallery prices.”

“You’re worth every dollar.”

“Now see, I would have said penny.”

They laughed.

Natalie yawned. “Ladies, I’m too tired for any more tonight. Thank you so much for being here and doing this. You were quite a hit, Fleur. I won’t be surprised if you’re all over the Internet tomorrow.”

“Not because I’m blind, I hope.”

“Being blind is part of your gift. Lena, I think you came straight from heaven.”

The older woman laughed. “Where’s my raise?”

“I hope for enough success to do well by everyone.” She saw them out, but didn’t leave. In the studio she pulled a smock over her dress, dragged a block of clay from the shelf, and beat it into a mound. Her whole body shook, the dizzying images making her ill. She started to work and kept on through the entire night, forming face after face. All were smiling but Kirstin, Trevor, and Jaz, and the force of those expressions overwhelmed the rest.

In every face she saw too much. Joy, excitement, pleasure. Envy, disdain, rage. It was like reading minds, seeing the shifting expressions, trapping and holding them without release. Crowds took a devastating toll.

She slumped down and closed her eyes. Aaron would have understood. But even though he knew this was the night, there’d been no word.

Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind.

A
ct One. The first. He felt almost shy, certainly nervous, introducing himself, as it were. Not in person, but in deed.

The setting, a steamy wetland of sycamores spectral with Spanish moss, homes engulfed in kudzu, gnawed by termites. The air throbbed. Biting gnats. Dark mysteries moving through dark waters.

He’d chosen his subject well and carefully, the unruly child, the apathetic mother resenting an offspring she despaired of. Disobedient weanling, incapable guardian.

Disregarding his bellowed demands, the woman slammed the door, separating herself from the discharge of her womb. Enraged, the monster she’d created beckoned a monster she’d never imagined.

He set the toy on the muddy ground and, with the radio control, set the playful messenger in motion. Seen! Desired! As the all-terrain truck wheeled around, it drew on chubby legs, the curious brat. Out of reach—only just—until a greedy dive landed the boy on his prize, and with the swipe of an arm, the clamp of a hand, he lifted and carried the squirming quarry.

Five

W
ith Lena managing the gallery, Natalie had spent the morning packaging last night’s sales, arranging for two shipments and preparing five deliveries. UPS would handle the shipments, but she wanted to make the local deliveries as a show of gratitude. After leaning the two-thousand dollar, bubble-wrapped, and crated eagle mountain sculpture onto the dolly, she backed against the exit door.

Sunlight cast her shadow into the studio as she pushed through the door. Another shadow loomed to her left. She jumped, banging the dolly still caught in the door.

“Sorry.” Trevor steadied the sculpture. “You shouldn’t come out without looking.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. Two weeks with neither an accidental nor intentional encounter, now twice in twenty-four hours? “What are you doing here?”

“The manager said you’d be delivering local sales. I thought I’d pick up my painting, save you the trip.”

“Oh.” She brought the dolly around. “It’s inside. I’ll get it in a minute. And thank you, Trevor. That sale meant the world to Fleur.”

“Her painting made the sale. Can I give you a hand?”

“I can manage.” She pushed the dolly toward her vehicle.

“We could use the company van. Take everything at once. It’s not glamorous, but it can haul.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You’ll be surprised how inaccessible Pine Crest properties can be.”

“How do you know I’m delivering to Pine Crest?”

His spread hands explained the obvious. That’s where the money was.

She gripped the nape of her neck. “I really don’t—”

“Need help. I know. But an extra pair of hands …”

“I have the dolly.”

“Trust me. That dolly won’t go everywhere.”

So he was offering assistance once again, which might be the way he liked things.

He said, “I have a sculpture and painting I want to coordinate, but I’m not sure where to put them. You have the eye for it, so after we deliver the rest, can you take a look?”

“You mean go to your house and arrange things?”

He shrugged. “We did yours. And seriously, Nattie—Natalie—”

“Nattie’s fine.” She was that to family and old, close friends, and for some reason she liked it from him.

“There’s no way you’re getting these crates delivered alone.”

With no excuse to refuse except her own tender feelings, she let him into the studio where her private sculptures were draped and out of sight. They set out with a full van, and on the very first delivery, Trevor proved invaluable. The quarried stone steps rose at a heart-pumping pitch. She hated to think how embarrassing it would have been to ask Sim Lemmons to help haul his purchase.

With the last item delivered, she told Trevor, “Sorry to drag you through that.”

“Do you see drag marks?”

“Nothing bloody,” she admitted, staring out the window as he drove to a swank new condominium complex in Pine Crest. He scanned an ID key that allowed the van through the gate. He might be more the guy in the suit than she’d thought. On the top floor, he swiped and opened the door.

“I don’t know why I expected a climbing wall and tent.”

His smile warmed her as she studied the loft’s interior. Her sculpture fit his minimal clean-line furniture. It sat on the hammered copper, C-shaped table between his couch and fireplace. “How committed are you to the furniture arrangement?”

“Not.”

They shuffled his room around, lamps, tables, even the art on his walls. The wolf mountain ended up beneath a recessed ceiling spot on a black rectangular pillar that had previously held a lamp. Fleur’s painting made a dramatic complement.

“You should offer this service to your customers, or is it just guys like me who need it?”

“Guys like you?”

“You know, tent dwellers.”

She shrugged. “Seriously. You’re Mr. Extreme Sports, but no trophy heads.”

“I don’t hunt.”

“No canoe paddles, snowshoes, or barn wood.”

He laughed. “I wasn’t going for rustic.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “This is sophisticated.”

“What I do isn’t all I am. Any more than what you do is you.”

She’d have to disagree there, but kept it to herself.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

His offer brought a clear memory of Kirstin with her champagne. “I should apologize for my catty remark to your girlfriend last night. I certainly don’t expect everyone to love my work.”

He expelled a breath. “Kirstin doesn’t reflect my views and opinions.”

“I hope she wasn’t too bored.”

“No, she was.”

Refreshing honesty.

“Kirstin likes to be seen. She got bored because it wasn’t the sort of crowd to be distracted by her.” He dug in a drawer and produced a corkscrew. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Natalie moved to a photograph on a shelf that broke up his open space. A woman and five boys. He’d said four. “Your family?”

“Yeah.”

“The oldest looks like you.”

“Yep.”

She leaned in. “Which one is the cop?”

“Second tallest, to my left. White or red?”

“White.” If he was determined to pursue it, why not? But it might be these mixed signals that frustrated the reporter. “What’s the story with Jazmyn Dufoe?”

“I’d rather not go into that.”

“Okay.”

“No prying or wheedling?” He poured the wine and brought her a goblet. “With Jaz, even the hint of something unsaid brought an assault.”

“She’s a reporter. You ought to expect that.”

“I guess there’s an element of buyer beware.” He clinked her glass with his.

“Unless she failed to inform you, I have to say there is.”

“Oh, I knew. Our first conversation was an interview.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.” She took a sip, perfectly chilled and smooth with just enough bite to keep it interesting.

“You’d think.” He smiled. “So tell me about this eidetic memory.”

“I wish I hadn’t brought it up.”

“Are you saying don’t ask?”

“I’m just the weird one who remembers what I see. Especially faces.”

“Why faces?”

“In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘A man finds room in the few square inches of the face for the traits of all his ancestors; for the expression of all his history, and his wants.’ ”

“A heavy thought.” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “It isn’t really remembering with you, though. Don’t eidetics continue to see the image as though it’s visible?”

She looked at him, surprised.

“I Googled it.”

“I … Yes, that’s right.”

He sat against the back of his sofa. “I’m not sensing a deficit IQ.”

“No.” She stared at the floor.

“You think I prefer airheads.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Kirstin’s not actually stupid. Just her own universe. Which works well for me.”

“I see.” Though she didn’t see how that element could attract an altruistic man like Trevor. She took another sip of wine. “I like it.”

“2008 Wind Gap Pinot Gris.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“You can take the bottle. That’s the first glass I’ve poured.”

If she wasn’t careful, she’d start crushing on him again.

“Have you heard from your brother?”

She sighed. “A text this morning that said, ‘Sorry.’ ”

“Sorry?”

“Maybe that he missed the opening, or that he hasn’t called. I think it’s because of Paige. He’s right to focus on her and Cody.”

“And you’re cut out?”

“I’ve been calling the hospital. The nurses know I’m family.”

“And Cody?”

“They induced a coma to keep him still and to fight a systemic infection. They won’t say it, but I know they’re worried. I mean, two weeks is long, right?” Her voice caught.

“His injuries were severe, and carnivore attacks are rife with infection.”

She fought back tears. “They’re hitting it with the big guns—whatever that means.”

Trevor nodded, sipped, then said, “How did they discover your ability?”

Grateful for the change in subject, she said, “Something in my development was different enough from Aaron’s to make them wonder. Eidetic memory is very rare, even controversial, and never the same from one person to the next. The autistic painter Stephen Wiltshire can draw an entire city skyline after a single helicopter ride over it. That broad a vista leaves no residual image for me.”

“Only people?”

“Mostly. Now.”