Paula Goodlett - Grantville Gazette 46

"You will not take any one , or any thing , from my house!"

They stopped arguing, turned, and looked toward the frail but stern old woman who stood half way down the stairs from the second floor.

"Frau Rice," Nina said, moving to help Ella Lou the rest of the way down the stairs. "You should be resting."

"How can anyone rest with all this damned shouting?" the old woman said, letting Nina guide her into the fray. "What exactly is going on here?"

"You've allowed this hack to violate my daughter," Barnes said, pointing a thick finger at Daniel. "In your own home!"

"That's ridiculous! What are you talking about?" she said.

"He painted Mikayla in the nude, right here in this house!" He thrust his finger toward the rug beneath their feet. "I trusted you by leaving my daughter alone with him, and that painting of his? It's pornography is what it is. And who knows what else happened while they were alone together?" He turned toward Sergeant Tipton. "I want my money back, and I want this damn pervert arrested!"

"Watch your accusations, Warner!" Ella Lou said. "I've known you since you were a little boy. You may think you're a big, important man these days, but by God, in my house, you will show some respect." Ell Lou stepped closer and hooked her arm through Daniel's. "My guest , the artist Daniel Block, would never do anything to harm your daughter."

Barnes spluttered for a moment, and Daniel watched him closely. He didn't know Herr Barnes very well, but he knew that he served in the SoTF Office of the President, and before that had worked in the USE State Department, and in the Department of Internal Affairs for the NUS/SoTF. He was important, at least in a small way. Clyde had once called him a simple pencil-pusher, but Barnes was also rich enough to have given Daniel a handsome advance on the work. That was not a detail that Daniel could forget so readily.

"Well, get the painting, then," Barnes said, snapping his fingers as if everyone around would jump at his order. "Get it, and I'll prove it to you. Where'd you hide it, Block?"

Daniel was about to answer, but the sting of Frau Rice's sharp nails digging into his arm silenced him. Frau Rice was a very nice lady once you got to know her, but when she grabbed your arm and gave you a sharp, friendly reminder to "shut the hell up," you listened.

"Sergeant Tipton," Ella Lou said, "I'm sorry, but you will not take Daniel or anything else from my home until you have produced a legal search warrant. Didn't the laws of West Virginia come through the Ring of Fire?"

Tipton nodded grudgingly. "Yes, ma'am, they did, but I don't require a warrant to take someone in for questioning."

"Fair enough, but you need one to see the painting, and until you do, I see no reason for Daniel to go anywhere with you, at least not without an attorney present."

Sergeant Tipton sighed. "Ma'am, I-"

"Sergeant, when you return with a warrant, we will be happy to oblige you. In the meantime, you should go." Ella Lou smiled and looked at Barnes. "And please take this pompous twit with you, or I will press some charges of my own."

Warner Barnes' face ruffled as if it had feathers, but the sergeant nodded at Clyde, turned, and held the door for Barnes, who stomped out in a huff. Tipton walked back outside to the squad car with Barnes following, talking angrily to him. Tipton nodded twice, spoke briefly, and drove off, leaving Barnes staring after him.

Ella Lou held a wry smile on her face until Tipton drove off down the street.

Daniel allowed himself to breathe. "Thank you, Frau Rice. For a minute there, I thought they might-"

"That jackass," Ella Lou said, still staring through the screen door.

The others peered out. Barnes was speaking to a woman across the street, pointing at the house. While they watched, two other people stopped to listen, turning to look at the house as well.

"Show me the painting," Ella Lou snapped. She crossed the foyer and slammed the front door, turning to glare at Daniel and Clyde. "Now!"

Silently, Clyde pulled the painting from the hall closet and displayed it so that his mother could get the full view of it from the light coming through the front windows. She stared at it for a long moment in silence.

Daniel found himself smiling wistfully as he surveyed his work. What a waste of a fine painting. Despite Herr Barnes' overreaction, Daniel felt that it was a terrific piece-probably his finest work. He had used the Impressionist broken color technique, leaving brush strokes unblended throughout the composition-strokes that defined the girl's lips and the small dimples in her cheeks, the curvature of her hips and the gentle swell of her thighs. The whole effect was bold, new, and fresh, something the likes of which few in the world had ever seen, at least outside the confines of Grantville.

It was true that a lot of up-time books had been reproduced and knowledge disseminated throughout Europe since the arrival of these Americans. But high-quality, full-color images of the great works from Picasso, Renoir, Dali, Monet, and Cezannehad been seen only by a lucky few. Perhaps Rubens had seen these things; perhaps he would understand why Daniel had made the choices that he had made, the decision to paint the girl in this manner. But I will not apologize for my art. I will not-

"Daniel." Frau Rice's tone was calm but strained. She looked at him. "You will not wait for the police to return with a warrant. When the boys return from school, and Sofia returns from work, you will take this painting down to the station and explain yourself. I'm sure this can still be resolved without. . without too much fuss."

"But. . I tell you truthfully, Frau Rice, the girl was never naked in your house. She was wearing a bikini, and I never, ever touched her. It was innocent."

"Yes, I don't doubt that. And yet," she said, her voice rising, her breath short and agitated, "here she lies, naked. And I don't care if you obscured her. . her. . I don't care. There she is, naked. She's just a child, Daniel. Underage. You will go and you will explain, and you will tell Warner Barnes that you're sorry."

"I will not apologize for my art."

"You will apologize," Ella Lou Rice said, stamping her foot. "You will. . or are you no longer a guest in my home?"

All was silent. Daniel stood there, staring down at the old woman whose expression had turned from support to sincere disappointment. He looked at Nina then Clyde; both of them stood there, speechless, waiting for him to say the next word. What should he say? What choice did he have?

There were two options that lay before him. Do as Frau Rice bid and go to the police and apologize to Herr Barnes. Or, as soon as his son and wife returned, gather their things and leave, go to some other place and try to make a name for himself with all that he had learned in Grantville. To France, perhaps, where great artistic movements like Impressionism and Surrealism would, in time, rise and give the world such gifts as only God himself could inspire. Yes, leaving would be a good thing to do.

But, would it? Who was to say that he and his family would receive a warm reception anywhere else? The styles and techniques that he was experimenting with would be just as strange and, perhaps, unwelcome in France right now as they were here in Germany. Leaving would, in effect, mean accepting defeat. And that would make the historians right to have discarded him on that ash heap of history, as the up-timers sometimes liked to say. What kind of message would it send to his son, who was happy and comfortable in his new life in Grantville, and who was beginning to show some artistic talent of his own?

I will not apologize for my art. And yet. .

"Okay, Frau Rice," he said finally, "I will go to the station. And I will try to make them understand."