In his heart, he knew this portrait would be the pivotal piece in the show—that one important statement which connected all of his other artwork together. Solitude would leave people talking about it and him for weeks, if not months, to come. He just had to nudge the gallery owner a bit more to see the logic.
He’d spent countless hours on the phone with Julianne, owner of Beauty in the Desert Art Gallery, saying and doing everything he could think of to get her to agree just to take a look at Solitude. He’d poured his heart out, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d done a good bit of groveling. Finally, even at this late date, he’d been able to persuade her to at least see the canvas, albeit reluctantly. Winning the first battle had him breathing a little easier, but he still had a long road ahead of him to get Solitude in the show.
Under normal circumstances, getting the gallery owner to agree to his terms would be an almost insurmountable hurdle. But Solitude could never be considered normal by any stretch of the word. Julianne had grumbled about adding the canvas to the collection for a multitude of reasons. But after he’d informed her that Solitude wasn’t for sale, her decision to leave his masterpiece out had solidified.
Being honest with himself, he could understand her position. After all she was in business to make money. Even though she hadn’t come right out and said so, he knew there were other concerns as well. Her art gallery was considered one of the up and coming, hot new businesses in Scottsdale. She wouldn’t want to garner a reputation which made her appear weak. He understood if she gave into him she’d be fearful of opening herself up to being trampled by future artist’s whims. We can be difficult. The more he thought about her concerns, the more his stomach hurt. He popped his last antacid. Trying his best to remain optimistic, he felt sure all he had to do was let her get a good look at Solitude. Once she saw his masterpiece, she’d understand the importance of the canvas and relent by including it.
Terry had always prided himself on diversity in his craft, working in many different mediums and styles. He’d never tied himself to a particular type of paint or technique. Doing so would prove too restricting and only serve to squelch his creative nature. With each new piece, something from deep within spoke to him. That inner voice always guided him in the right direction to capture the full potential of the subject matter.
Many times over the last few months he’d lost himself inside Solitude’s canvas. He’d sit down to work and hours later he’d be roused back to consciousness. Every time this happened, he’d find the portrait closer to completion. Elation prevailed as he realized his ego had stepped aside and allowed his soul to take over. This method had left him with a breathtakingly stunning result.
Solitude showcased the raw emotion he’d poured into his entire collection, but elevated his art to a whole new level. He was positive no one would be able to walk away from this portrait without being touched by it in some way. Art was, after all, something to stimulate the viewer’s senses and move them, good or bad.
The time had finally arrived. Solitude was about to be unveiled for the first time. Closing his eyes, he said a little prayer to the art gods. The next few minutes would be his make-it-or-break-it moment. Anxiety had his heart rate jumping as the back door of the gallery swung open allowing the men admittance.
****
Julianne stood in front of the covered canvas, wringing her hands.
“You’re putting me in a very difficult situation, Terry,” she said, practically snapping at him. “And I don’t like it at all. Please remember, my word is final when it comes to showing this canvas.” He started to object, but she shut him down with a raised hand.
“I know this piece means a lot to you, but the show is tonight, and I haven’t even seen it yet. Since you’re being so stubborn about not selling this portrait, I have the right turn it down.” Her eyebrows rose, silently asking if he understood.
“You’ll show it.”
His audacity never ceased to amaze her. She had to give him credit. The man certainly didn’t lack confidence. Artists! Julianne couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. They’re all egomaniacs. Flustered by his persistence, she felt more than a little harassed because Terry had requested—no, demanded a place of prominence in the show for this particular canvas.
What was she going to do? The man had more talent in his little finger than any other artist her gallery had ever shown. She had to admit to herself, though, this canvas piqued her interest. As much as that fact irritated her, Terry’s tenacity over the last few days had paid off for him. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.
“Artists know how to create, but I know how to show those creations. You’re stepping on my toes here, and I don’t like it one bit.”
Terry opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him short. “I know. I know. You’re sure that once I see this portrait, I will fall to my feet in hysterics and drool. I’m telling you it’s too late to center the show around this piece. If I like the canvas, we can put it over there.” She waved noncommittally to a spot in the corner.
“Julianne, it’s not my intention to tell you what to do with the show. You’re the expert here. All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind until you see the portrait. I’m positive that once you do you’ll change your mind about the significance of this piece. Solitude is too important to be put in a corner like an afterthought.”
Artists were passionate people. Julianne knew that and still Terry’s conviction for this canvas unsettled her. What in the hell am I going to do if I don’t like what he’s created? They were getting nowhere fast. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just see what we have here first, shall we?”
As the final barrier slid from the portrait exposing it to the outside world for the first time, Julianne audibly gasped. When her mind finally registered the image on the canvas, she became completely still.
Terry held his breath in anticipation. The moment of truth had arrived. The first reaction to art was always the most powerful. His gaze stayed riveted to her face, her body language, and all the small nuances which couldn’t lie to gauge her response to this unique piece of his work.
When her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open, he relaxed a bit. When her hands covered her heart, he mentally fist pumped. Seemingly mesmerized by Solitude, she absently took a step closer to the canvas.
Holding her hand out to him, palm up, her gaze was glued to the canvas as she continued to study it. Her voice a mere whisper. “Provenance?”
He retrieved the photographs from his pocket and handed them to her. He’d taken the photos of himself working on the portrait at various stages of completion. With this type of art, the public demanded proof in which the artist had indeed painstakingly created every line, every little nuance, and every shadow.
Quickly shuffling through the pictures, she verified the authenticity of the work.
“What do you call this piece?”
“Solitude.”
As if enthralled, she nodded her head absently. “Yes.” Her voice was laced with admiration. “I see…no, I feel that, and yet…” Her head tilted slightly as if the portrait had whispered to her. “And yet, there’s a warmth, a feeling of hope for future sociability engulfing her. My God, Terry! It’s as if this portrait is a living, breathing entity.”
Talking to herself more than actually positing a question, she uttered, “How in the world were you able to get such an otherworldly quality to such a realistic visual? Amazing.”
Pleased and more than a little relieved by Julianne’s observations Terry grinned like a proud parent. She wasn’t expecting an answer, so he didn’t offer one.
While creating Solitude, Terry had been consumed with doubt. Being so close to the sentiment behind the portrait, he wasn’t sure if he’d be the only person able to feel the emotion within it. Julianne’s compelling reaction served to reassure him—no, far beyond that. Her visceral response had soothed him more than the bottle of antacids he’d eaten for breakfast.
&nb
sp; He thought back to that magical moment when he’d snapped the picture of Jody, which inspired the canvas before him. The pain of a broken relationship had crippled his best friend. Her heart had been shattered, left in tattered pieces by some jackass who couldn’t see past his insecurities. To help her healing process, he’d allowed his artist’s eye to capture what he’d seen and felt in that very special moment. She couldn’t see the illumination of hope surrounding her, but he could. Without Jody and the deep, loving, spiritual bond they’d shared since childhood, he wouldn’t have been able to pour his heart and soul into his creation. Without her openness and inability to disguise her feelings from anyone who paid attention, this portrait would never have come to life. Everything had to align at exactly the right moment to create such a piece of art. The canvas represented a culmination of the perfect emotional storm between two people, one hurting and one willing to heal. Without all of those things coming together in perfect harmony, Solitude would still be beautiful, but it wouldn’t be inspiring to its audience—it wouldn’t be extraordinary.
Julianne studied Terry as though she’d been star struck. “The portrait is outstanding. I want Solitude for my personal collection. I’ll buy the canvas for any price you name.”
Validated once again by her reaction, he shook his head and smiled. “As I said, Solitude is not for sale.”
Obviously still under the portrait’s spell, she returned her gaze to the canvas. “I hope you didn’t sell your soul to the devil to create this, but if you did, it was worth it.”
Terry threw his head back as the laughter erupted from deep within him. The thought of bargaining with the devil to craft such a divinely inspirational work of art was outlandish.
Julianne rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I want to thank you. I will be the first gallery in Scottsdale to show this new form of art, and what a spectacular specimen it is!” Excitement glowed in her eyes.
Her attention quickly focused back on Solitude. Terry’s trained artist’s eye could read her like a book. He recognized her distraction as her eyes glazed over. She’d stopped viewing the portrait as an observer. The time had come to put on her gallery owner hat. He assumed all the problems and technical minutia created by adding Solitude to the show at the last minute now had her undivided attention. She’d have to find the proper lighting, the proper placement, and the proper staging to do the canvas justice.
He’d just won the war. Solitude was in good hands.
Chapter Seven
At some point during the drive home, Fiona had disappeared from the backseat making the rest of the ride blissfully silent. Grateful for the reprieve, Jody focused on relaxing her taut muscles. The delightful peace within the car aided her efforts immensely.
Slowly pulling into her driveway, Jody came to a stop. Despite the peaceful respite, the constant bombardment of the energetic little girl’s unfamiliar energy had left her verging on hysteria. A cackle fraught with panic escaped her lips. The nightmarish sound so creepy, it sent tremors of dread running down her spine. Oh, God help me! I’m losing it. Genuinely afraid for her sanity, she tried to regain control by forcing her fists tightly into her eyelids. She understood what was happening to her and around her, but had no clue how to stop the momentum.
The little girl seemed to be holding her hostage, sapping more of her strength with each encounter. Her experience with Fiona had taught her quickly that the price for being dragged into a constant altered state was more than she could afford to pay. She had no idea how to escape the danger of being so far removed from the rational world so frequently. Something had to happen soon to stop Fiona’s interference in her life. If the intrusion didn’t cease, she feared she’d no longer have the strength to separate herself from the thin veil that kept the dead at bay. She could end up lost in the mist between worlds. Ultimately, she feared she’d lose her ability to distinguish between the essence of the mundane and esoteric. She wasn’t fooling herself. She understood that would mean the end of life as she knew it, mentally and possibly even physically. For the first time in many years, her gift had now placed her in grave danger.
People often believed that when someone was capable of speaking with the dead, any and all answers to their questions were at their disposal. That was simply crap—the biggest cosmic joke of all. If that were the case, Jody wouldn’t be in the trouble she was in now. She’d learned early on that the Universe works in mysterious ways and provides help not when wanted but only when needed.
Clutching the steering wheel, she squeezed her eyes shut, and started her breathing mantra. She would use all the techniques in her arsenal to regain a little control over her life. “I can do this,” she stated with resolve and tightened her fingers on the wheel. “I’m strong.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “There’s a reason this is happening, and everything will work out in the end.” Breathe in. Breathe out.
After allowing herself a few more moments of positive reinforcement, she pivoted to step out of the vehicle. The car forcefully jerked forward, jolting her back to reality. Slamming her right foot on the brake, the realization hit that she’d not only failed to put the car in park but hadn’t even turned it off.
“That’s just great!” she yelled, violently hitting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. The angry outburst did more to calm her frayed nerves than anything else she’d tried so far. Once again, Fiona had proven to be too much of a distraction. She had to gain the upper hand soon, or she’d end up hurting herself, or even worse someone else.
Using the force of her anger to slam the car door, she effectively sealed herself inside. The hot interior of the vehicle wasn’t an ideal refuge, but at least peace and quiet could be found here. Her objective was to take full advantage of the calm while she could.
To separate herself from her psychic abilities, she stilled her nerves and focused what was left of her energy on allowing her ordinary, everyday senses to take over. This exercise was a type of reverse meditation that served to ground her when she felt out of control.
Becoming more conscious of her hearing, a mockingbird’s beautiful trill calling its mate crept slowly into her awareness. Listening to the sounds of her neighborhood, she worked to visualize everything she heard, playing it like a movie in her head. In the distance, a dog barked. Her sense of touch and smell started to respond as the breeze picked up and kissed her skin. The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted through the car and tickled her nose. She immersed herself in the tranquil reality of the world around her.
To her surprise, a butterfly joined her in the car. There was something mystical about the beautiful creature sharing the same space. No matter how infinitesimal, she welcomed the sense of serenity with open arms. She’d take what she could get.
Calmer now, Jody reflected on how her abilities had impacted her throughout her life. She tried to find a correlation in her past which would help her hurdle this new uninvited snag. Even going as far back as her childhood when nothing had been in her control, there’d never been an experience like this one with Fiona. Good spirits or bad, they’d contacted her and then always moved on, never to be heard from again. Because their visits were brief, only a minute amount of her energy had been stolen. No spirit had ever attached itself to her before. This was new. There was nothing in her past that would help her deal with the dangerous complications Fiona now forced upon her.
Somewhere in the distance, children’s laughter caught her attention and had her feeling a little lighter. She tried to imagine her body stretching to the limits and joining in their joyful play. In doing so, she felt a slight pull at the corners of her lips as they rose in a grin. She took solace in the fact the world continued to go on around her as if all were well and normal. The world outside her car gave her hope. But she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that a come-apart of gargantuan proportions would soon blacken her horizon.
Over the last twelve hours or so, she’d learned beyond a shadow of a doubt that this situation wasn’t going to go away on it
s own. She’d have to go far beyond her comfort level to figure out how to help Fiona move on. At this point, she was willing to beg, borrow, and steal to get the information needed to make that happen.
The Universe obviously had a change of plan in store for her. She didn’t have a choice. She’d have to man up, stop the bellyaching, and stop fighting the transformation, whatever that may be. Like it or not, her only way out of this situation was to charge through full speed ahead. Since she didn’t have a clue where to start or what course of action to take, the time had come to ask the big guns for help.
Allowing her reverence for the enlightened, higher powers to shine through in her voice, she started her entreaty. “Please guide me in this situation with Fiona. Provide me with the wisdom and knowledge to do what must be done to help her.” She closed her eyes, picturing her spoken plea being carried off on the warm desert breeze. Well, that’s it then. All she could do now was wait for intervention on her behalf.
Exhausted and thinking only of the nap she planned to take, Jody dragged her tired butt through her front door. When she found Fiona making herself right at home, her surprise at the little girl’s intrusion had her silently cursing. Nothing should surprise her anymore.
The reason for her meltdown sat on the living room couch, occupying herself by lifting her legs and then letting them fall. With each upward pass of the child’s feet, Fiona’s little Buster Browns kicked the underside of the coffee table making everything on top jump. She wanted to laugh at how normal this act would be if Fiona were still alive.
With the kid so close by, Jody felt faint even before the door closed behind her. Bone-weary fatigue that Fiona’s presence always seemed to cause immediately kicked in. As yet unnoticed by the little girl, she stood in place and weighed the benefits of sneaking out the door and hiding for just a bit longer.
Troubled Spirits Page 4
