A WHISPER OF ETERNIT

Page 35



But no more.

"No more." He murmured the words as the sun climbed high in the sky, dragging him down into the dreamless depths of that sleep that was like death itself.

It was late afternoon whenTracy laid her brush aside and stood to stretch her back and shoulders. She had risen with the dawn, eager to put her dreams behind her, to lose herself in her painting. Her art had always been an escape from whatever problems were worrying her. She was in control at the canvas, her whole being focused on the intimate act of creation. This morning, she had not painted from any sketches or photographs; she had simply stood in front of a blank square of canvas and let her imagination take flight.

Now, she stared at her work in wonder. A tall, dusky-skinned woman danced across the canvas, her long hair shimmering around her shoulders. Her colorful skirts swirled around her ankles, revealing shapely calves. A bracelet of rubies and emeralds reflected the light of the candles that lit the tent. Men of all ages sat in a wide circle around her, staring avidly. And in the background, blending in with the shadows, stood a tall, dark man.

A man who looked very much like Dominic St. John.

But it was the woman who held her gaze. It was the woman she had dreamed of the night before. It seemed she was no longer able to separate her troublesome thoughts from her work, after all.

Pulling off her smock, she tossed it over the back of a chair and hurried from the room, her thoughts on Dominic. For the first time in two weeks, he hadn't sent her flowers with a note telling her where to meet him. Perhaps he had been called away on business, she thought, though she couldn't believe he would have gone anywhere without telling her beforehand. They had spent every night together since he sent her flowers the first time. Occasionally, she found herself wondering what he did during the day, why he never called her on the phone, why they never went out to lunch or dinner. After all, he had told her he was retired, so it couldn't be a job that kept him occupied during the daylight hours. Next time she saw him, maybe she would ask him to come over for lunch.

Needing to feel the sunlight on her face, she left the house and went down the long, winding stairs that led to the beach. Kicking off her shoes, she walked along the shore, enjoying the sound of the waves. Seagulls flew overhead, wheeling and diving. She saw a couple of seals frolicking out past the breakers.

She stopped to watch them for a few minutes. But even the antics of the seals couldn't keep her troublesome thoughts at bay for long. Why was she having those disturbing dreams? Why had she felt compelled to paint Dominic as a vampire? Who was the dancing woman, and why did she have the feeling that she knew her? Was it just stress? That seemed like the obvious answer, but she didn't feel stressed. She loved the house. Her painting was going well. Maybe she had just been working too hard.

With a shake of her head, she started walking again. She wouldn't think of it now. The day was too beautiful, the sky too blue.

The beach was crowded today. Teenage girls in brightly-colored bikinis lounged on blankets, working on their tans, while their boyfriends showed off playing volleyball. Mothers helped their kids build castles in the sand. A father perched his young son on his shoulders and waded into the shallows. Further down