Sallinger, Elene - Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

‘OK, open your eyes.’

Looking at the slate, she was struck speechless. Whereas the first portrait had been done from memory and its details were a bit off, this one was startling in its realism while being entirely fantastical. The only real objects he’d painted were her and the willow tree. He’d captured her with a contemplative look on her face. She was mostly in profile, her eyes looking off into the distance. The tree framed her, its droopy branches serving as a living curtain and giving her the appearance of a nymph or some kind of wood elf.

He’d not depicted her actual clothes, but rather had drawn her in a 1920s-style dress with lots of layers and ruffles. The mint green of the fabric set off her red hair and her eyes were almost emerald in his drawing, furthering the otherworldly aspect of the painting.

The background was truly startling. An alien landscape rose up behind her. Purple mountains broke through pink clouds off in the distance. The carpet of grass surrounding her was cerulean while the sky was green, in opposition to reality. She seemed at once completely herself and totally foreign, and the effect was disconcerting. One thing that couldn’t be denied, however, was that it was masterfully done.

‘Connor.’ She was awed by his skill. ‘It’s amazing. I can’t believe you did this. And so beautifully.’

He flushed a little and shrugged. ‘Thanks. It’s easy when you have the perfect subject.’

She’d be fooling herself if she didn’t admit that it was nice for him to be in the hot seat for once, but in truth, this was the work of a truly skilled artist.

‘You should show your work. I mean, is taking photographs what you really want to do for a living?’

Connor’s stomach clenched at her question. Of course he didn’t want to be a photographer, he wasn’t one. Not that he’d ever made a point of correcting her assumption. Hell, he had his camera with him right now.

The reality was that he was content with his life. His job was less than illustrious; in fact, he’d had more than one woman dump him once she found out he was a janitor.

The last had stood up in the middle of the diner he’d taken her to and screeched about how she didn’t date men who scrubbed toilets for a living and couldn’t do better than the local greasy spoon for a date. She’d demanded he take her home and stormed out of the diner.

He still got furious over that particular humiliation. He’d never been back to that diner and it had been one of his favourite spots. Marge, the owner, had always had two eggs fried with bacon and toast waiting for him when he got off work. He liked to eat breakfast at night. Always had.

After Janelle had dressed him down like a dog in front of the regular crowd, he’d never been back. He really didn’t want to ruin what was turning out to be a great day with a revelation that would spoil everything. No one wanted to date a janitor.

‘No, I don’t want to be a photographer.’ He side-stepped the subject. ‘If I had to choose between the two, I’d always choose drawing and painting over photography.’ Warming to his subject – and infinitely relieved to slide away from dangerous territory – he said, ‘Photography, for me, is a foundation. I take pictures to capture moments in time. I often come back and use those photos as puzzle pieces in my art. Maybe I want to paint a flower and I’ll pull out some nature photos that I took. Or I might capture an image because it pulls me due to the emotion involved in that moment.

‘I have a portfolio of photography. I particularly love architectural photos. That’s what drew me to this place. I was doing some research on the architecture of River Rock and the book mentioned this estate. It used to belong to the Rocco family that founded the town. Their line died out when the last son had only daughters who moved away in 1935. Since then the house has passed through a lot of owners and now sits vacant.’

Catching Bridget’s eye, he said, ‘She’s a beauty, though, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, it’s gorgeous.’

‘But painting –’ He continued his previous line of thought. ‘Painting is like being the master of my own universe. I get to determine every single detail of the canvas.’

‘That makes sense, but why digital art rather than traditional brush and canvas?’

‘Because my universe doesn’t always follow traditional rules. Take, for instance, the painting I just did of you. In my mind, you need to be surrounded by jewel colours. Not the baby blue sky or the mediocre green that is grass. Your hair –’ he couldn’t resist reaching out and stroking the silky locks ‘– is like restrained fire. Molten copper waiting to flow down your back. Your skin, so pale and cool, like the ice keeping the fire banked.’

She laughed at his whimsy but that was how he saw her. She was fire and heat trapped in a cool exterior. Heat that he wanted to explore a lot more of.

Eyeing the sky, Connor could see clouds rolling in. With a sigh, he stood and held out a hand to Bridget.

‘Come on, sweetness.’ He smiled at her obvious pleasure at the endearment. ‘It’s time for us to go. There’s a storm coming.’

She gripped his hand and helped gather up the remnants of their lunch. With everything back in the basket and his pack firmly on his back, they made their way back to their respective cars.

After throwing the basket and pack into the back of his late model Toyota Pathfinder, he walked over to her Mustang and was struck by the disparity in their lifestyles. Her car cost more than his annual salary. His car was only paid off because he’d gotten it for two grand from a guy who was desperate for cash and he’d dipped into his little life fund to do it. For the first time, Connor wondered if he was biting off more than he could chew.

Of course, he’d never been one to shy away from a taking a huge bite out of something he wanted.

‘When can I see you again?’

She smiled at him and, with a flirty little grin, said, ‘Well, I’m given to understand there are rules to this sort of thing. So I’m supposed to keep you dangling for at least three days, but then I have a study group, and then classes, and then so forth and so on, so why don’t we just go with what works for you?’

Her grin was open and laughing he couldn’t help but respond with one of his own.

‘Fair enough.’ He squinched up his face and pretended to think hard. ‘Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’

‘Deal.’ She stuck out a hand and they shook on it.

‘Question. Do I get to pick you up or shall we meet at the restaurant?’

Pained embarrassment flashed across her face and he wanted to kick himself for what was an obvious question at this stage. One sexy encounter, which hadn’t gone all that well, didn’t amount to establishing trust.

‘Never mind, Bridget.’ He cut her off before she could speak, and smiled to take away any remaining embarrassment she might feel. ‘I’ll text you the name of the restaurant once I’m sure I can get reservations. OK?’

She smiled and nodded. Leaning in, he dropped a quick, sweet kiss on her lips, refraining from taking it any further. He’d pushed her enough for one day.

‘Do you want to follow me back to town?’

She shook her head and started her car, ‘No. I have to stop by my office for a little while. I’ll just see you tomorrow.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ He made to step back but she grabbed his arm.

‘Thank you.’ Her green eyes burned with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. ‘For everything.’

Rather than cheapen the sentiment with inadequate words, he simply nodded, kissed her one last time, and stepped back, watching her until she rounded the curve of the drive and disappeared from sight.