A WHISPER OF ETERNIT

Page 103



"No!" He laid a restraining hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. But I really should go. I've got work to do." "You're not mad, are you?"

"No, of course not.See ya later."

Back home, she poured herself a glass of milk, then went upstairs. Glass in hand, she regarded the blank canvas, then, setting the glass aside, she mixed her colors and began to paint.

She had fully intended to start on another seascape; instead, her brush strokes sketched a tall man wandering through a moonlit garden.A man who stood beneath a lamp post and cast no shadow on the ground.

Intent upon her task, she paid no attention to the time as she carefully applied each brush stroke. His face, pale in a wash of silver moonlight, was harsh and yet beautiful. His eyes, dark and shadowed, were filled with the secrets of eternity. His mouth was well-shaped and sensual, with just a hint of a roguish grin. A long black cloak fell in graceful folds from broad shoulders. It was by far the best thing she had ever done. There was carefully leashed power in every line.

Stepping away from the canvas, she studied the portrait wrought by her hands and her heart. "Perfect," she murmured, laying her brush aside."Absolutely perfect."

"You flatter me."

She whirled around, startled by the sound of his voice. "Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you."

She glanced at the window, surprised to see that the sun was setting. "I didn't realize it was so late."

He drew her into his arms, stared at the painting over the top of her head. Again, she had captured him on canvas and he studied the image intently.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Very much.Is this how you see me?"
"Yes."

"And is this how I appear?Or merely an artist's interpretation? "

She looked up at him. "Both, I guess," she replied, and then frowned. "Is it true you can't see yourself in a mirror?"

"Yes."

"If I took your picture, would it come out?"