Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  Lily marched into Ellen’s office waving the strips in her hand. “So I’m clueless, is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because I’m already acutely aware of that fact.”

  Ellen looked shocked. “I wasn’t suggesting anything, Lil. The cartoons are a hoot, I want to hear you laugh again.”

  At home Lily pared her houseplants and quoted poetry along with the flamingos while she carried her geode everywhere, tucked to her chest like a football, waiting for the impossible moment when the purple crystals would flare to magic life again. The rock sat on her worktable while she painted, nested beside her pillow where she tossed in twitchy sleep.

  When she bothered to cook a hasty meal she rarely ate, the geode resided inside the goldfish bowl where Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy dipped to kiss it again and again. But despite her ministering attentions, the geode remained mute and unresponsive.

  On Monday night, she dashed to her life drawing class where she hoped to disappear into sketching what was real by making it her own. Arriving late, she found a chair and moved it closer to the model, groaning when she saw that, once again, he was male. And nude. So be it, she sighed in resignation.

  Half afraid a complete body sketch might jump to life out of her sketchbook, she focused on drawing only the model’s hands in different positions, the angle of his arm meeting the shoulder, or a foot curving into an ankle. Usually Lily fell easily into a meditative state where transforming with pencil what her mind’s eye envisioned came as naturally as breathing. Not tonight.

  Tonight she felt wound tight as a hair trigger, waiting … waiting for the articulated body parts to animate themselves like zombie limbs in a B horror flick! Long before the session ended, she’d slapped her sketchbook closed and splurged on a taxi cab ride home. That night she dreamed of headless torsos walking the streets and woke screaming, clutching the geode to her chest like a talisman.

  The idea that an incomprehensible power she couldn’t control lived like a freakish thing inside of her became a kind of suspended panic in her mind. She painted like a mad fiend, slapping tumultuous emotions onto every canvas along with the paint. Her loneliness consumed her. She hid in her apartment, ignored voice mail, refused to check vid-mail and generally sidestepped all obligations, including a meeting with a new client Ellen had specifically asked her to attend. This particular client could generate a lot of business for Faces in Time.

  The next day Ellen dragged Lily into her office and yelled at her. Gradyn Spencer, usually so patient, left daily messages asking about the paintings she’d agreed to do for his upcoming show. She never called him back.

  Her only light during those dark days came from Lindsay and Carmen Wilson. She adored the two girls and their bubbly conversation during the portrait sittings. They had collaborated, odd for siblings, and chosen complimentary costumes of the same historical period. Both were determined their portrait in costume would be the one their parents chose … and not the one of them in what they called the “baby doll” dresses.

  Lily admired them for taking such personal pride in their portrait, pride that tripled after they saw themselves dressed like princesses in the preliminary photos. The three of them became “bosom” friends (Lindsay was reading Anne of Green Gables) and spent their sittings laughing and sharing stories.

  Both girls turned into eager artists themselves after realizing if they stayed still and kept composed during a sitting, they could finish early and spend the rest of the time painting with Lily until their mom or dad came for them. Ellen got a kick out of glancing into the studio and seeing the three straight backs, side by side like stepping stones, in front of their easels, brush and palette in hand, intent on their work.

  Lily took a What Guys Want In Their Woman survey in Ellen’s latest Cosmo magazine and discovered guys did not want their women blond, petite, energetic (except in bed), or creative (except in bed). She snorted a bitter laugh. It seemed all she had going for her these days was a love potion working on her more than any guy in her vicinity!

  And so the madness closed in. On the fourth Daniel-less day, Lily forgot her key. She knocked tentatively on his door and wondered if she’d forgotten it on purpose just to see his face. She knocked again, louder. He wasn’t home, wasn’t waiting in his apartment pining for her.

  “I’m such a moron,” Lily muttered, slumping to sit in a corner of the hall near her door. After ten restless minutes, she pulled a white charcoal pencil from her satchel and began drawing on the wall, very lightly so she could rub it out when she heard him on the stairs. A quaint village wandered off the end of her pencil, squat, tiny huts that meandered around knotholes and cracks in the wood. The chalk sighed almost plaintively against the grainy surface and she hummed nonsensical tunes under her breath.

  So absorbed was she, she missed hearing the voices on the stairs until they were just below her. Daniel was finally home. And he wasn’t alone! Lily rubbed her sleeve fiercely over the chalk. It smeared but didn’t disappear. Just as he and his companion reached the turn, Lily spun around to plant her back against the wall, hiding her crime like a naughty child. Daniel, arms full of boxes, looked up, saw her sitting there, and grinned. “Forgot your key, did you?”

  But Lily’s gaze was on the woman beside him, a tall, pretty brunette … everything the Cosmo survey said men most wanted in a woman.

  “Lil, meet Megan. Megan, this is Lily Barnett.”

  The brunette’s face lit up. “The oil painter! Oh, wow, it is so great to meet you. I love your work!”

  “Thank you.” Lily flashed her an over bright smile.

  “Megan works at Spencer’s Gallery,” Daniel explained. “I was just there and — ”

  “I need a key,” Lily broke in rudely.

  Daniel looked abashed. Lily looked at the floor, the railing, everywhere but at the lovely Megan while he unlocked the door to his apartment. Setting the boxes inside, he reached for a bag Megan had over her shoulder. “Thanks for helping me carry this stuff,” he said with a smile.

  “Anytime.” The girl smiled back. “See you next Tuesday?”

  “Yeah, Tuesday,” Daniel responded absently, eyeing Lily who still sat on the floor, her back pressed to the wall. He grabbed her spare key, unlocked the door to her apartment, and stood waiting.

  “Thanks.” Lily refused to move.

  Frowning, Daniel slid to a sit beside her, studying her ragged face. “More merciless days, Lily?”

  “No. I’m fine. Doing the grown up thing, you know. Surviving in real time and space. Feet firmly planted.”

  “I wish you’d stop all this nonsense.”

  “You’re talking to me like I’m a child, Daniel. Please go away.”

  “Not ’til you say you miss me.”

  Lily couldn’t help a grin. “I miss you, okay? Megan seems nice.”

  He shrugged. “I guess. What’s going on, Lil? Why are you still sitting here? Why were you rude to her?”

  “Was I rude? Sorry. I just don’t happen to like tall, pretty brunettes these days.”

  “Are you doing a portrait of a particularly nasty one at the moment?”

  “No. Actually I’m — ” She half turned, eager to tell him about the Wilson girls.

  Daniel saw the chalk marks and tugged her away from the wall. “Damn it, Lily, not again!” But he was laughing as his gaze roamed the sketch of the tiny village. “It’s very Tolkienish. I like it. But not on my wall.”

  Half splayed across his warm chest, Lily breathed in his windblown scent. His hair brushed her face … Gods, she had missed him. Pressing her face to his neck, she felt his arms close around her. With her weight full against him, he toppled onto his back. Then his hands were cupping her head, and he dragged her mouth to meet his. Excitement leaped in her veins as he pulled the length of her body tight, answering the fever of her lips with a frenzy of his own. Time stood still as they fed eagerly on one another.

  Finally Lily broke away, gasping. Daniel seemed to realize they lay in the middle of the th
ird floor hallway and started to laugh. Lily, blushing fiercely, rolled off of him.

  “Maybe we should take this inside.” He kept his arm around her waist.

  “No.” Lily moved away, reaching for her pile of books. “I can’t. It’s too — ”

  “Out of control?” Daniel danced his fingers up her spine. “What’s wrong with that?”

  She stood quickly and backed against the wall. “This plays like a fantasy, Daniel.”

  “Doesn’t everything with you?” He stood too, raking frustrated hands through his hair. “If you’re looking for excuses, Lily, let’s make a list — ”

  “I want this, us, to be real. To feel true and right and perfect. And it doesn’t. It feels … desperate.”

  Daniel lifted his hands in defense. “What you’re saying is I’m rushing you. Except this time you went after me, Lily.”

  “I’m sorry — ”

  “I’m not. And you aren’t, either. Be honest. I think we’re both grown up enough to handle that.” He grinned suddenly. “At the very least.”

  “Okay.” She gave him a long look. “You said the potion isn’t affecting you. But it is affecting me. I think that’s why I’m so, well, rabid when I get near you.”

  “Hear me complaining?” Daniel took a step closer but stopped when she held up a hand.

  “It’s the magic, Daniel. It frightens me. I don’t understand it, and I don’t want its influence, to be explicitly honest. I’d like to know my heart is behind my feelings and not some ambiguous power.”

  Daniel’s eyes turned serious. He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I can understand that, Lily. More than you know. So you’ll get no pressure from me, okay? You can relax, I promise to behave.”

  “Until?”

  “Until you’re ready to tear my clothes off. Then all deals are null and void.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans to reassure her but a wicked gleam lit his eyes.

  “So, friends?” Lily asked tentatively.

  “Friends … with prospects,” Daniel agreed with a dopey smile. Changing the subject, he bobbed his head at her chalk village. “Just so we’re clear, I understand compulsions, Lil. At least yours are innocent.”

  She scowled. “Think it’s time for therapy again?”

  “We both know you’re incurable. Thank the Gods.”

  “I’ll get soap and water right away,” Lily promised, “before the Forman twins see this.”

  Daniel gave a mock shudder and they stood looking at each other for a moment before Lily escaped inside her apartment. Collapsing against the door, she heard the voice in her head urging her to forget her fears, forget everything but the feel of his hands on her, the thrust of his body molding to hers. He wants you, the voice said. And you want him, you’ve always wanted him …

  But she wasn’t ready for him. And she didn’t completely believe he was as immune to the potion as he claimed. When a touch from her had him fumbling at her clothes in the middle of the hall …

  And now there was this Megan person. They’d acted very chummy on the stairs, she and Daniel. Maybe he would lose patience with Lily, a midget blond without a sexy bone in her body, and go for a slinky brunette. Why wouldn’t he? She’d behaved like a silly child, drawing on the wall, for bloody sake!

  Lily filled a bucket with soapy water, grabbed a handful of rags, and scrubbed every mark off the wall with a ruthless energy she didn’t quite understand. She finished as the sobs she’d been holding at bay bubbled over.

  • • •

  Snatching the roof key, she slipped across the hall and up the narrow stairs. Pushing through the heavy door to the rooftop, the night air hit her like a bucket of ice water in the face. Which she needed. With arms hugged about her against the cold, she stalked out into garden, cursing herself for the chaos she’d created in her once simple life. Guzzling a magic potion, painting a man that popped to life, and losing herself in wild moments of hot and heavy grappling with Daniel? Was she insane?

  Tuesday. The brunette had said she’d see him Tuesday. Daniel had a date with a Megan? Lily sat down hard on a wooden bench. Hell and damnation! Their friendship having run its course, he’d moved on to someone who would love him back. Glancing into the solarium, Lily stared at the table where she and Daniel had kissed like lovers. It only took a small mental nudge for her to imagine their bodies tangled naked together, arms and legs entwined … she turned away with a groan.

  God, how she wished she could love him back, braving the unfathomable depths of that complex personality he never showed anybody. She longed to meet his magic. She ached to disappear inside the storm of emotions she’d so briefly touched while locked in his embrace that night. She wanted to swim inside his blood again, wanted him inside her, knowing and loving the whole of her. Not because she was lonely or horny or desperate but because she wanted more than just nibbles of the damn Twinkie. Didn’t she?

  Lily had never given much thought to loving; in fact, she had trouble wrapping her head around the idea of giving such consuming energy to a person instead of a project. Was love like the breath-catching wonder she felt at her first glimpse of green every spring? Or the feel of cool lake water sliding over her body on a hot day? Could love be as simple as sitting in a hall laughing over a full grown person unable to resist scribbling on the wall? Lily hoped it was all these things and more. She wanted to know love like she knew the nuances of a Prussian blue or a viridian green.

  Shivering with cold, she lifted her face and felt the first drops of icy rain. Who was she kidding, anyway? She might slap herself into the resemblance of a woman who could love Daniel. Might even paint herself as someone he deserved. But she couldn’t escape the facts. Lily Barnett rarely stayed long in the real world. And she could sidestep a relationship as nimbly as a figure skater. Which, if she was honest with herself, made the idea of being in love with Daniel simply another avenue of escape. So here she stood under the softly whirring wind generators, sleet soaking her clothes until her teeth chattered, and choosing a life without courage, without risk, commitment or love. A damn life without the creamy filling …

  Chapter Eleven

  Confused and, admittedly, sexually frustrated, Lily took the bit in her teeth and began a new portrait, this one of a man fully clothed who looked nothing like Daniel. She wanted to kill loneliness before it killed her. If Daniel was choosing another’s company, then so would she. But the entire time she prepped the canvas, designed her composition, and roughed out the figure in chalk, she could hear her list of excuses to him squabbling like squirrels inside her head; I’m not ready, I don’t know how to love someone, and her personal favorite, Daniel, you deserve better.

  Four hours later she jumped back and watched her second perfect man, as classically beautiful as a GQ model, tear free of the canvas. He looked urbane, sophisticated, impossibly handsome, and Lily watched an astonished disgust twist his features when he looked around her untidy apartment. Shit, just the kind of guy she didn’t need … a Madison Avenue snob!

  Lily named him Rodney because of his aquiline features, his cultured hauteur and, after he’d watched BBC television for ten minutes, his posh British accent. But of course, he had no culture or sophistication, being only a mix of magic and oil paint. Within half an hour Lily was dying to melt him. What little personality she’d somehow worked into him was arrogant and full of disdain.

  After she poured him a glass of the expensive Napoleon brandy Ellen had given her for Christmas, he snatched the bottle and began slugging it back like orange juice. When she refused to play strip poker with him, he refused to play Scrabble with her. He finished off the brandy bottle while strolling her apartment making offensive statements about her “plain” furniture and “childish” wizard lights before moving on to his assessment of her “unspectacular” face, her “stubby” legs and her “barely there” breasts.

  When the booze ran out, he tore through her cupboards looking for more, cursing and throwing pots and pans on the floor. Not find
ing any, he swept out of her apartment to shout down the hallway, “Is there a chap in this mausoleum possessing a bottle of Napoleon?”

  Mortified, Lily grabbed his arms and tried to physically drag him back inside. Her effort was ludicrous. He outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds and she ended up being swung about like a rat latched onto a terrier. The McCready sisters popped their heads out their door to ask in astonishment if Lily was all right and should they call the police.

  “No, thanks.” Lily levered her feet under her and strong-armed Rodney another step towards her doorway. “I’ll get rid of him, believe me!”

  Mr. Newton in apartment 30 across the hall thrust two beers out his door and told Rodney to shut his “bloody yap.” Lily nearly had him inside her apartment when Daniel burst through his door snarling like a mad dog. Seeing Lily clutching Rodney’s arm, his eyes turned to cold steel. “What the hell — ”

  “He’s going, Daniel. Right now.” She elbowed Rodney sharply in the gut. “I’m sorry you were bothered. Ruby downstairs must have called you. Tell her — ”

  Rodney twisted his arm from Lily’s grip and in the process struck the side of her head, knocking her to the floor. Stepping over her, he shoved his face close to Daniel’s and said, “Do you perchance have any brandy, old man?”

  Daniel’s fist smashed the perfect, super-model nose. Lily scrambled unsteadily to her feet. With a strength born of utter humiliation, she tackled Rodney backwards into her apartment and kicked the door shut behind them.

  • • •

  Through the door, Daniel heard a stream of male curses that cut off abruptly.

  The sudden silence left him cold and he threw himself at her door. “Lily, are you all right? Damn it, let me in!”

  “I’m okay,” he heard her whisper from just inside. “He … he’s passed out. Sorry for the trouble, I’ll make it up to everyone, I promise. This … this should never have happened and I’m sorry.”

  But Daniel’s blood was up. His fist smacked the wooden wall. “Open this door right now or I swear I’ll break it down!”