Love's Image (18 page)

“Shannon!” Melinda said as she came out of her office, her arms open wide. “How wonderful to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Melinda.” Shannon leaned over for the shorter woman to do her cheek-to-cheek greeting.

“Are you ready to get started?”

Shannon nodded. “I’m probably a little rusty, though.”

Melinda flipped her hand from her wrist. “Nah. You’ll do just fine. I’ve got several test shoots lined up.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied Shannon’s face.

“The scar’s on this side,” Shannon offered, tapping her left cheek and leaning forward.

Melinda’s face lit up with delight. “I can’t see it at all. Now we only need to wait and see what the camera tells us. The lighting they use will tell the whole story of your future in a second.”

Shannon gulped. So that was what it all boiled down to.

Throughout the years she’d been modeling, Shannon hadn’t deluded herself into thinking she’d get this much attention if she hadn’t been beautiful enough to land such great modeling gigs. But she did feel like once people got to know her, they liked her for who she was deep down. However, the doubts continued to plague her—even now, seven months after Armand had walked away from her.

“Let’s get moving, shall we?” Melinda had already started gesturing and motioning for her assistants to get back to their desks and get to work putting Shannon’s career back in motion.

By the end of the day, Shannon was exhausted. The driver dropped her off in front of the building she’d once called home. At least she knew where everything was.

The stark white furniture and light wood floors nearly blinded her when she walked inside and flipped on the light. She walked through the apartment and saw that everything had been cleaned for her homecoming. Melinda had thought of everything, all the way down to stocking her refrigerator with Shannon’s favorite yogurt and bottled water.

Someone had unpacked her suitcases, which were lined up in the back of her room-sized walk-in closet. All she had to do for herself was eat a quick snack, change into her pajamas, and turn down the covers.

Sleep came easily for Shannon, as exhausted as she was. But when the alarm clock buzzed at five thirty, she was already awake. The sounds of the city had startled her from her sleep, and she hadn’t been able to turn off the thoughts that had popped into her mind.

She met Melinda at seven to get her schedule. Then she let the driver take her around to get quick snapshots and fifteen- to thirty-second takes on film. In spite of how busy she was, images of Judd flashed through her mind, and she wondered what he was doing. Was he lecturing? Or was he spending time going over an assignment with one of the seventh-graders he cared about so much? She’d never known anyone like him before, and she doubted she ever would again.

Judd’s suggestion about doing what she was called to do played over and over in her mind. Had the Lord sent Armand to her so she could go back to modeling? Or was this just temptation designed as a test? Whatever it was didn’t feel right at the moment.

“Stop frowning, Shannon,” the photographer said. “Where’s that spark?”

“I’m sorry, Pete. I’ve sort of gotten out of the groove.”

“Think happy thoughts. You and Armand strolling through Central Park.”

Shannon took a deep breath and imagined herself with Armand. That doesn’t do it, she thought as she felt her forehead growing tight. Then she remembered Judd’s kiss.

“That’s it, Shannon! You’ve got it, girlfriend!”

The quick clicking sounds of the camera were familiar to Shannon, bringing back all sorts of memories of France, Italy, and Spain. She’d spent several summers in Europe doing photo shoots and developing an international presence.

After three days of grueling photo and filming sessions, Shannon sank back on the sofa in Melinda’s office. “Now what?” she asked.

Melinda shrugged. “Now we play the waiting game. We have to see how you do on film.”

No matter how well known Shannon once was, in spite of how she’d recovered, her entire future modeling career hinged on lighting, cameras, and illusion. That very thought put a knot in her stomach.

Playing the waiting game didn’t mean they sat back and did nothing. Melinda had arranged for Armand to escort Shannon to various functions, dropping hints in the media that he’d been by her bedside, worrying over her, being her motivation to get back to work. She even had the nerve to capitalize on Shannon’s desire to help others who were less fortunate than her.

“I haven’t done all this,” Shannon growled at Melinda as she read the package put together for her new media campaign. “This article says I’ve been working with the homeless in Atlanta.”

“You haven’t yet,” Melinda offered. “But you will. As soon as we get the results of the photos, we’re setting up a homeless shelter with your name on it. It’s such a brilliant move, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. In fact, I think I’ll do it for all my top models in their hometowns.” She leaned back in her chair and added, “Just think of what it’ll do for your career.”

This whole thing made Shannon sick to her stomach. Her motive hadn’t been to help her career. She sincerely wanted to help people. And she wanted to do it because she felt like that was what Jesus wanted her to do.

The following week, Shannon noticed that Armand had suddenly disappeared from her itinerary. He’d been outwardly attentive to her lately, but she felt like they’d lost a deep personal connection. He smiled at all the right times, and he knew exactly when a camera was about to click. That was when he gazed lovingly into her eyes or gently placed his hand on her back to guide her as they walked to a celebrity function. It was all show and had no substance.

Life for Shannon was beginning to feel like an empty shell. Nothing had really changed. Why had she not seen this before?

“Where’s Armand?” Shannon asked Melinda the morning they’d agreed to get together to go over the results all the photographers had sent by courier.

“He’s getting ready to go back on the European tour,” Melinda said as she stuck her letter opener in the envelope and started ripping.

“Isn’t it a little early for that? They usually have the European tour during the summer, don’t they?”

“You know how this business works, Shannon. We have to move schedules up all the time to get a head start on the competition.”

Funny how Armand never mentioned he was leaving. If they were as close as the media said they were, surely they would have discussed his tour.

Deep down, Shannon didn’t care. However, it did hurt her pride. The whole thing with Armand was forced and awkward. It didn’t feel right.

Being with Judd felt right.

Shannon blew out a sigh as Melinda read the reports. When she looked up with a twitching grin, Shannon knew the results were good.

“You’re back in business, Shannon. Not a single camera saw your scar.”

“Great!” Shannon replied, although she didn’t feel as good as she hoped she sounded.

“No doubt you’ll get contract-renewal offers from all the former clients. We’ll have to review them and see if they’re worthwhile. I’m also putting out some feelers for some new contracts.”

“But why? If the old companies want me back, don’t you think you should consider them first?”

Melinda glanced at her from above her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “Bargaining power, Shannon. This business thrives on competition. People want what someone else has. That’s how you make money in the image market.”

The image market. That’s what Shannon was in. It was all image. Illusion. Nothing real.

She slowly nodded. “I understand.”

Melinda grinned. “Yes, I know you do. That’s why you’ve done so well. You deliver what the client wants. Every woman wants to be you, Shannon. As long as we have that, you have a career in modeling.”

How sad that people wanted her life when she wasn’t sure she wanted it. Shannon stood and crossed the room to the door.

“One more thing, Shannon, before you leave.”

Shannon stopped and turned to face Melinda. “What’s that?”

“Armand is having an intimate get-together at Pierre’s. Sort of a going-away party. He’ll pick you up this evening at eight thirty.”

Shannon nodded. All she wanted was to hang around in her apartment and read her Bible, but she knew she had to maintain this image thing Melinda had stressed from the moment they’d met.

On the way to the party that night, Armand turned to her, lifted her hand to his lips, and looked into her eyes. “Shannon, I’ll be gone for a few weeks, but I feel that what we once had is worth bringing back.”

She blinked as she stared back at him. He kissed her hand again and instructed the driver to hurry a little faster.

Throughout the evening, as people hugged and patted her, Shannon felt like she was living someone else’s life. None of the chatter seemed significant to her. It was all about who was doing what and where they were going. There was no discussion of any relevance to her as a Christian. She could only imagine what Jesus would do in this room. That thought brought a smile to her lips.

“You look positively gorgeous,” Armand said as he offered her a glass of sparkling water. “Everyone’s thrilled you’re back in town.”

She smiled back at him and took a sip of her water. More than anything, she wanted the comfort of her friends who didn’t care what she looked like.

“Armand?” she asked slowly.

At first, he didn’t respond, but when she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he turned to her. “Yes?”

“Do you ever think about eternity?”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Not much. It’s hard enough to worry about the here and now.”

“I’m not talking about worry. I’m talking about …”

He winked. “I know where you’re going with this. We can discuss our plans for the future when I get back.”

She started to correct him and mention how her whole perspective had changed—how she now thought about her life in relation to her walk in the faith. But he’d already turned around and gotten into a conversation about the latest men’s hairstyling product he was promoting. This obviously wasn’t the time or place to discuss eternity with Jesus.

When Shannon began to yawn, Armand smiled. “I’m tired, too. We can leave in a few minutes if you want.”

With a nod, Shannon replied, “That would be nice.”

They were on their way to Shannon’s building half an hour later. Armand walked her to the door, where the doorman pretended not to be listening.

“It’s wonderful having you here with me, Shannon. I look forward to a long career and life together.”

“But … “

He lifted a finger and held it to her lips to shush her. “I know, it’s going to be hard being apart for the next several weeks, but it’ll be good for both of us. We’ll have time to think about the time ahead.”

He left her with the doorman and got back into the limo before Shannon had a chance to respond. He lowered the window, blew her a kiss, and waved before the car sped off.

Once inside her apartment, she stepped out of her shoes, leaned against the wall, and rubbed her aching feet. It had been months since she’d worn high heels.

Shannon felt like talking to someone who understood. She glanced at the clock on the mantle and realized she’d have to wait until morning to call Janie, who was probably in bed, sound asleep by now.

After setting her clock and slipping into her nightclothes, Shannon reached for the Bible she’d brought to New York. Settling under the covers, she opened to the book of Matthew, where she often found comfort. She read chapter nine over and over, taking to heart Jesus’ healing power. He’d healed her physically and emotionally. Now she prayed that she’d be given the strength to do what she knew was right.

If she stayed in New York, she’d need to find a way to stay spiritually grounded. Janie would know what to do.

Shannon closed her Bible, turned off the light, and snuggled down under the covers. Light from the city filtered through her sheers, so the room wasn’t completely dark. She watched the shadows dancing on the wall and listened to the sounds from the street below until her eyelids grew heavy.

The alarm woke her early, before the sun came up. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and trudged to the kitchen, flipping lights on along the way.

When she was fairly certain Janie would be up and almost ready for the day, she reached for the phone in the kitchen and punched in Janie’s number. She answered right away.

At first, Janie sounded excited to hear from her, but after Shannon asked for advice, her voice became cool and distant. “I can’t tell you what to do, Shannon.”

“I’m not asking you what to do. All I want is for you to pray for me.”

“You didn’t have to call to ask for that. I’ve been praying for you nearly all my life.”