“He still growls.” Grace smiled at him, obviously enjoying his discomfort.
Chet poured himself a cup of coffee. “We didn’t know how to reach him until he got his hands on some paint.” He winked at her. “Now we put the tough cases in his old room.” He lifted his mug to Roman. “They understand that piece. It’s started a lot of conversations.”
“What room?” Grace looked at Roman. “What piece?”
Roman didn’t answer. Chet nodded toward the door. “Go on through the living room down the hall, second door on the right. You can have that room tonight, if you want.”
When she pushed her chair back, Roman spoke up quickly. “Don’t bother.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll give you nightmares.” When she turned to go, he caught her wrist. “You won’t like it, Grace.” He let go of her quickly, aware that he had everyone’s attention.
“Don’t be so worried. My opinion shouldn’t matter anyway.”
He muttered a foul word under his breath when she left the kitchen. He stood, not sure whether to follow or wait. Panic rose. It was a second or two before he realized Chet, Susan, and Jasper were watching him. “She doesn’t like my work.” He felt light-headed.
“Neither do you.” Jasper pulled back the closest chair. “Sit down. You don’t look well.”
Roman sat heavily and wondered what was wrong with him.
Jasper gripped Roman’s shoulders. “Put your head down.” He squeezed. “Have you had a checkup lately?”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think that wall is going to scare Grace away, son.”
Roman heard Jasper’s voice through a tunnel. The weakness passed, and Roman felt better. Jasper let go and took a seat, studying him. Chet and Susan started talking again, telling him how they’d followed his career. They brought up some of the other boys who had been on the ranch the same time he was—all doing well, most married with kids.
Why was Grace taking so long? Jasper leaned forward. “You should see a doctor.”
Roman gave a mocking laugh. “I’m thirty-four, in the peak of health.”
“You had a couple of these episodes when you were here. Have you been having them all these years?”
Roman shrugged. “Not enough sleep.” He smiled wryly at Chet. “Wake-up call at five, as I recall.”
“Whiner.” Chet frowned. “You fell off the barn roof once. Remember?”
“Someone dared him to walk the ridge.”
“Good thing you landed in a pile of hay.” Susan shook her head. She smiled when Grace returned. “What do you think of that piece?”
“It’s very different from what Roman’s doing now.” Grace looked at him. “More revealing.”
Roman felt exposed. “I pilfered a marker and drew a hole in the wall.”
“He was trying to get kicked out.” Jasper winked at Grace.
“It’s where he was going I find interesting.”
Chet shoved his chair back. “How about a walk around the old homestead? Stretch our legs a bit before dinner.”
Roman stood and nodded for Grace to come along. Susan spoke up. “Grace, why don’t you stick with me and let the men talk.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
Roman hesitated. Susan grinned at him. “Don’t look so worried. I’m sure she already knows you’re no angel.”
Grace couldn’t understand why Roman was so uneasy. The Mastersons clearly loved him. They welcomed him like a prodigal son. “How long has it been since Roman visited?”
“He hasn’t come back since he aged out of the program. Once the boys reach eighteen, they’re on their own. He could’ve stayed, but . . .” Susan lifted a shoulder. “An opportunity knocked, and he answered.”
If Grace had a family as loving as this in her life, she’d find a job close to home. She’d visit every chance she had. She offered to help with dinner preparations, but Susan said she’d have everything done in a few minutes. “Comes with cooking for a houseful of boys.” She washed potatoes, poked holes in them, and put them in the oven. “How do you like working for him?”
“He spends most of his time in his studio. I’m in the office.” She knew it didn’t answer the question.
They sat together at the kitchen table. “He could have a wide circle of friends in the art world, if he wanted.” Susan smiled impishly. “Jasper keeps us up on what’s happening with our boy. He says Roman has a beautiful place at the top of a mountain overlooking a canyon.”
“With a magnificent view all the way to the coast.” And he doesn’t even enjoy it.
“And you’re his closest neighbor.”
Grace blushed. What might Susan Masterson make of that proximity? “I couldn’t afford the commute. Roman offered to rent—”
“I know. Jasper told us. I’m not suggesting anything is going on. Roman never lets people get too close.” Her smile was apologetic. “I knew you two weren’t married. I just wanted to see Roman’s reaction when I said it.”
He’d been quick to set the record straight. “I’m his employee. Nothing more.”
“That doesn’t mean you two can’t become good friends.”
Grace wasn’t sure that was possible anymore. Her feelings were changing, heading in an unwelcome direction. “He’s not an easy person to understand.”
“I don’t imagine you are either.” Susan put her hand flat on the table. “He was the smartest boy we’ve ever had here at the ranch. Brilliant, in fact. Quick learner, photographic memory. He could have gone through college, but didn’t want anyone telling him what to do. We’ve kept up with him on the Internet, and Jasper is a pit bull. He fights for his boys and never lets go, especially the ones with the deepest wounds. One look at that bedroom wall, and Jasper knew how to get closer. Books on art. Roman devoured them. Jasper kept fanning that flame. We found places for Roman to experiment. He filled every sketchbook we gave him. I still have them.”
“I’d love to see them.”
“I thought you might. Sit tight.” Susan went down the back hall off the kitchen. She returned carrying a short stack of notebooks.
Grace took one and turned the pages slowly: a boy currying a horse, the black oak in front of the house, Chet smoking a pipe on the front porch, Susan working in the garden. Jasper standing at a chalkboard. Each book showed steady improvement and gave her insights into Roman. Her throat felt tight.
“We didn’t sit for him.” Susan looked teary. “He drew them from memory. After lights out, with a flashlight.” She shook her head. “He never did like rules.”
“These are so good.”
“The rawness is still in his work now, but he doesn’t draw or paint people anymore, does he?” Susan shook her head. “He has bonding issues, understandable after what he went through.”
Grace put the last sketchbook down. “Can you tell me?”
Susan studied Grace. “His mother disappeared when he was quite young. He was passed from one foster home to another. He was a runner and always ended up back in the Tenderloin, where he and his mother had lived. Not a new story. We’ve had a lot of boys from dysfunctional families—or no family at all. They don’t attach to people. It takes time to build trust, and some of them do their best to sabotage any relationship, especially if they start feeling something. That was Roman from the get-go.” Her eyes glistened. “He left the sketchbooks behind so he could forget us.”
Leafing through the last sketchbook, Grace shook her head. “I think he left them behind so you’d know how much he loved you.”
Susan wiped tears away. “I’d like to believe that.” She got up and checked the oven. When she sat down again, her eyes were clear. “I will believe that.”
Grace studied one picture of a young, pale-skinned girl with dark hair and eyes. “A girlfriend?”