Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  He tried not to think of Lily as he listened to Lonnie Ranchero down in apartment six ranting about the Forman twins running their race-boards down the first floor halls again. As he was leaving, with Lonnie still fuming over only a promise to talk to the twins, Daniel paused to give the man a hard look. “And stop hitting on Lily.”

  A leering grin replaced Lonnie’s heavy scowl. “You taking care of her then, Danny boy? ’Cause if there was ever a hot tomato needin’ ripening, she’s it.”

  “Save that tripe for your fiction, Lon.”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll let her tell you what she really thinks of you.” Daniel grinned at the man’s startled face.

  While nodding absentminded over coffee and his Aunt Lorraine’s rambling conversation in apartment twelve, Daniel listed in his head the pros and cons of actively pursuing Lily. His aunt had inherited Lennox Apartments when her husband died, and Daniel leaped at the job of manager when she, overwhelmed by grief and the sudden responsibility, asked him if he wanted to take it on. Now his daily visits kept her up to date on the business, kept her company, and kept her involved. When at last he climbed the stairs to his own apartment, her grief clung to him like a sad perfume.

  Sitting down at his comp-console at last, Daniel tried to tackle the real work in his life, the creative work that kept him alive and inspired. But a nagging ache for Lily sent him spinning off in an arousing fantasy of her wearing nothing but thigh-high lace stockings. He ended up so consumed he found himself pulling paper from a drawer and began sketching her. Mostly clothed, of course, but as he relaxed into his old graphic hero style of drawing, she became a lean-legged warrior clad in very tight, very skimpy leather …

  He ended up slamming the sketches in a drawer and soaking his head under a cold shower, and afterwards felt more like himself. Back at his console, he opened Photoshop, selected the six vid-pages he still had to colorize for the next issue of the comic book Grave Gladiators, put on classic Rolling Stones, and for the first time that day, disciplined himself to focus. The completed pages were due the following day at Graffic Blues, one of the comic book publishers he worked for freelance.

  Daniel had never considered himself artistic while growing up part nerd, part jock, and obsessed with comic books and graphic novels. His middle school art teacher turned him on to Japanese manga, got him interested in action figure drawing. Drawing lit the fire of creativity in Daniel’s young soul and became his passion. It was an occupation completely opposite the scholastic and athletic achievements his parents were so proud of in their other two children.

  Graduating from high school, Daniel left home to attend art school. Two frustrating years later, he quit to take any job he could find in the comic book industry. His first steady job for Graffic Blues was sketching storyboard ideas. Moving rapidly up the creative chain, he eventually co-wrote and designed the graphic novel Ragged Edge, which had a brilliant four-year success before Graffic Blues spun it off into two separate series based on the more popular characters. At first Daniel enjoyed drawing for Hellketcher, but when the storyline veered towards horror, he lost interest. Graffic Blues asked him to try colorizing, and Daniel at last found his niche. A colorist is the superman of the comic book industry. Many artists find it tedious, diddling with software by the hour, exploring color variables that best fit mood, drama, danger, or romance and then filling the space between the lines on the black-and-white pages of action and story. Daniel loved it. What’s more, he could work from home, which allowed him the freedom to explore other creative and personal interests.

  He’d first discovered Lily’s paintings in a small gallery on the west side of New Chicago almost six years ago. Being a colorist, he was immediately charmed by her unique intimacy with color hues and tones, a gift he recognized, admired, and knew he would never possess. He’d bought that painting, a landscape of Lake Michigan at dawn, alive with light, the city a faint shimmering warmth in the distance. It hung on the wall above his work station. For years he kept an eye out for more of her work without knowing the slightest thing about her. He’d discovered two more paintings three years ago and could only afford to buy one. Not six months later, she’d walked into his life looking for an apartment, a tiny waif of a woman full of astonishing naiveté and joyful vision.

  She’d given him a painting this past Christmas, a true masterpiece that hung in his living room. It was a large landscape in a style that danced between impressionism and realism, of a stone bridge stretching across water pulsing streams of light and color. The painting’s eloquent and vivid beauty took his breath away every time he looked at it.

  When she’d lugged it into his apartment and he’d torn away the paper wrapping, he’d stared speechless for a long moment. Then he’d exploded. “You can’t give me this, Lily! Gradyn Spencer could sell it for a fortune in his gallery. You could buy yourself a house, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I don’t want a house,” she’d replied. “Sometimes a painting claims a person while I’m working on it. This one belonged to you almost from the start, Daniel.”

  That’s when he’d taken her back to his office, showed her what he’d found so many years before. Her mouth had dropped open, she’d stared at the painting of Lake Michigan as if at a long-lost friend. “I painted this when I was in college. I can’t believe it’s here!”

  “I’ve been a Lily Barnett fan for a long time.”

  She’d laughed then, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist to plant a wet kiss on his mouth. The kiss, recklessly innocent, had kindled instant arousal in him. He’d dropped her and stepped back in trembling shock. Being Lily, she’d seemed unaware of his discomfort, just danced around his apartment like a runaway come home at last. And Daniel immediately fortified a more resolute force-field between them.

  • • •

  Daniel made himself work for three frustrating hours before deciding he needed brisk air and a dose of Gradyn humor. Gradyn Spencer, Daniel’s comrade in trouble and triumph since childhood, was rarely an accommodating listener, but his stories about the frivolous wealthy rivaled the best celebrity gossips and could distract one for hours.

  Walking towards downtown where Spencer’s latest gallery had just opened, Daniel felt the tension slowly slide off his shoulders. Patches of blue sky peeped from between a dirty gray overcast gathering for yet another autumn rain shower. Ah, fall in New Chicago … bitter with a wind that bit to the bone and a sun gone cold whenever it managed to break through the clouds. Tonight the stormy murk looked pinned like a banner to the sky by the thousands of rooftop wind towers with their rotating blades. Daniel kicked his feet through piles of fallen red and gold leaves littering the sidewalk. He tasted their dusty tang on his tongue. The crisp crunch underfoot satisfied his mood.

  Winter would be early this year, he realized with a glance at the darkening sky. Pausing at an intersection for an e-trolley to pass, he glanced up and saw a face in the window so like his own it might have been his reflection. Startled, he stared up into dark, brooding eyes staring out at him. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Then the e-trolly swept past, leaving Daniel shivering with unexpected foreboding.

  This late in the business day, the gallery was empty and Gradyn worked alone at a large desk set behind a curved sales counter. His round glasses had slipped down his nose, so absorbed was he in his books. He glanced up when Daniel walked in carrying two cups of steaming coffee.

  “Ah, I recognize an angel of mercy!” Grinning, Gradyn unfolded his long frame from the chair and tugged loose his tie to unbutton the neck of his shirt. Reaching beneath the counter, he pulled out a bottle of scotch. “Thanks for the rescue, Danny boy. I forget how much I despise paperwork until I trash a perfectly good day doing it.”

  “I never did understand your waste of a degree.” Daniel declined an offer from the bottle and watched his friend tip a generous shot into his coffee.

  Gradyn said, “If I’d known back in college how business really w
orked, I’d have majored in P. E.”

  “So you always say, Coach,” Daniel answered, voice thick with sarcasm. The two had played basketball and run track together in high school. Aside from height under the net and some speed over hurtles, Gradyn’s loose jointed, gawky frame hadn’t offered much to athletics. His head for math, on the other hand, had him recruited into a brokerage firm right out of college. But it didn’t take long for Grady Spencer to realize there wasn’t a job in the world that beat working for himself.

  “When’s the grand opening?” Daniel asked, glancing with interest through the half opened door leading into a back room where an untidy clutter of crates stood, some partially opened.

  “Week and a half. Lily’s agreed to bring in four pieces.”

  “She’s really good, isn’t she? I mean — ”

  “She’s genius, and as her work matures it will only increase in value. You, my lucky friend, have one of her best pieces hanging in your living room. Golly gee, she must like you a lot.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Have you made your move on her yet, big guy?”

  “None of your damn business.” Daniel stepped away from the counter, already regretting his impulse to come.

  “Ask her to the opening,” Grady suggested, taking a gulp of the doctored coffee. “You know how she hates them. All those moneyed people start crowding close, and she goes into that ‘deer-pinned-by-headlights’ shock. Even you couldn’t make the night worse.”

  Daniel shot him an unfriendly look. “I’m afraid she’s sworn off me.”

  Gradyn’s eyebrows rose. “But you’re her best friend. One doesn’t dump a — ”

  “She’s decided to stop counting on me. Thinks she needs to become more independent and act like a grownup.”

  “Why?” Gradyn’s wide-eyed horror was comical.

  Daniel tossed back the last of his coffee and leaned over the counter to bank the empty cup into the recycle bin before turning to survey the impeccably arranged showroom. “She’s got some misguided concept of what adulthood is supposed to mean. But if space is what she wants, space she’ll get.”

  “Christ’s Apostles, Daniel, what a statement! Shows an insipid lack of backbone on your part, if you ask me.” Gradyn sloshed more scotch into his cup.

  “I didn’t ask you.” Daniel wandered out onto the marble floor, paused to study a watercolor landscape and an abstract oil of … a cow’s reproductive organs, maybe? He stopped in front of a beautifully rendered bronze of two entwined figures. “What choice do I have, Gradyn? She’s so damn stubborn with no clue how amazing she is.”

  “Or how you feel about her. I’ve known other artists like her. They can’t separate who they are from what they do. People will compliment them, and they assume the praise is only for their work. Lily doesn’t understand praise on a personal level. You need to give her more than pretty words.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes.

  “Offer up yourself, man. The whole package: mystical mind reader, artist, comic genius hiding behind a — ”

  “No. Adding that much information to our relationship would only confuse the issue.” Daniel turned to face his friend. “Look, she asked me to back off, to let her make mistakes, and learn how to deal with them herself. She wants to stand on her own. I respect that. Didn’t I have to fight for the same thing? Gods afire, between my domineering grandmother and my tyrant father, it’s a miracle I don’t spend my days drooling in a padded cell. Pop’s never forgiven me for choosing art school over an engineering degree. And Gran won’t stop nagging me to join the Cohort.”

  “I know. Sorry for oversimplifying.” Gradyn joined Daniel out on the floor. “But Lily’s coming into her own now, realizing her true professional potential. She’s gaining more confidence and deserves a healthy social life to go with it. Don’t you think? As for her personal life … well, both of you are infested with a cornucopia of social phobias. Are you thinking that if she starts seeing herself in a different light, she’ll finally take a closer look at you?”

  Daniel’s shoulders shifted restlessly. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just … I hate that she’s been so unhappy lately.”

  “It’s positively unnatural for her to be unhappy!” Gradyn exclaimed. “Which is why you two have to resolve this. Tell her how you feel, for God’s sake. Tell her what you are — ”

  “No! One day, yes, but not yet. She’s got huge trust issues.”

  “Wouldn’t you if your best friend kept the biggest part of himself locked away? Damn your stubborn hide, Daniel. She’s not the only one who sells herself short.”

  • • •

  Gradyn’s words echoed in Daniel’s head as he walked home through the dimly lit streets. He wished unlocking his life was that simple, wished he could lay himself and his heart at Lily’s feet. But he’d already waited too long, kept too much from her. He pretended to the world that he was just an apartment manager, just a simple graphic artist turned colorist.

  How would she react when she found out he was a powerful telepath? Some secrets turn exponentially darker the longer they stay hidden. He hadn’t a clue how to tell her all that he was … and still keep her in his life. Shivering under a blast of frigid wind, Daniel shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. If only he could make her fall in love with him. She’d forgive him anything if she truly loved him, wouldn’t she? But he’d lived long enough to know you can’t force someone to love you.

  Daniel stopped for an e-trolley and as the brightly colored car rattled past, he knew he had the power to do it. He, Daniel Harris, could make Lily fall for him simply by using his Gift. In his head he saw clearly how he could work her, first with sweet psychic whispers followed by seemingly casual touches, a brushing of bodies here, an impulsive clasping of hands there before he moved on to actually maneuvering her thoughts towards —

  Daniel swore aloud. What the hell was he thinking? Love, the tender, hot, wondrous kind of love that he ached for and Lily deserved, couldn’t be manipulated. That he possessed the power to force someone … it was a fact beyond frightening! That he would consider it — even in fantasy — terrified him! Yeah, Gradyn had way oversimplified the situation. They were better off apart, he and Lily. At least for now. She needed space, he needed to cool the obsessing. But hearing his footsteps hollow in the night, Daniel knew he was making excuses, pulling away, letting time pass without grabbing for opportunities yet again. And that wasn’t living, not really.

  And it was certainly no way to win the heart of a lady.

  Chapter Seven

  More than a little frightened and, yes, angry as hell at not finding Madame Bagasha’s shop where it was supposed to be, Lily arrived at Faces In Time that morning all out of sorts. Cramming the last of a breakfast muffin in her mouth, she sneaked up the back stairs to slip into her studio. The last thing she needed was the third degree from Ellen over how well she’d coped with painting a man to life that looked exactly like Daniel. Or the fact that she’d dissolved him.

  Eager to start on her portrait of the Wilson girls, Lily spent the morning sorting through studio drops the artists at Faces used for settings and background. Heavy, awkward, and nearly impossible to detach, the backdrops hung on an electronic rack sporting swinging arms, similar to what held area rugs at a carpet store. Sandwiched between a musty, mottled brown drop and one of flamboyant blues almost too bright for the eye, Lily jumped at the sound of her boss’s voice. “So?”

  Struggling out from between them, Lily gave Ellen a warning scowl. “So, what? Go ahead and fire me for being late.”

  “Not today, my dear.” Ellen grinned at Lily’s show of temper and held up a clothing bag. “Lindsay and Carmen Wilson will be here at three thirty this afternoon for their first sitting, and Mrs. Wilson just dropped off the outfits she wants them to wear.”

  Lily growled, her temper increasing. “What do you bet the girls had no say in the choosing? It takes so little to make children happy, obliging. Cooperative!”

 
“You look very pale,” Ellen observed. “Should you even be here today?”

  “Yes.” Lily unzipped the bag, tugged the hangers free, and swore profoundly. “White dresses! Why am I not surprised? The girls are blond, they need color.”

  “Then pick a bold, dramatic backdrop, Lily. And stop whining. This isn’t like you.”

  “I’m trying to act more adult. I’ve noticed adults tend to whine.”

  “How unexpectedly perceptive of you. You must have a fever. Adults do whine. And vent. Let me know when the venting urge comes on, I’ll alert the others. Should be quite a show.”

  “Nope, I’m over it.” Lily shook out the two lace-encrusted dresses and hung them on a clothes rack.

  “So,” Ellen began again. “Did you call on ‘Daniel on call’ last night?”

  “No. I was perfectly capable of cleaning up a melted man on my own, thank you very much.”

  “Thought you were over it,” Ellen sniped and breezed from the room.

  Lily stayed cranky and distracted all morning. She kept remembering the sensual way her paintbrush slid over her nude’s face … Daniel’s face. And how intimate it felt dropping cadmium gold light into his chocolate brown eyes, stroking indigo shadows over the lush curves of his mouth. Her palms began to sweat.