Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3) (10 page)

She blushed. “No, I’m sorry. I was just—”
She shook her head. “Please go on. What you have to say is very
important. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

“Well, choose the kind of paint you want to
use and we’ll get started.” He turned away and began to gather his
supplies.

Evie looked around and decided on acrylics.
She didn’t think she could manage oil with her suddenly trembling
hands. She selected her brushes and put a small amount of several
colors on a pallet. She dipped her brush in red and poised her
brush over the canvas, but couldn’t seem to hold it steady enough
to draw a straight line, or anything else for that matter. Her hand
shook like she was having a seizure. She frowned, put the brush in
her mouth, and rubbed her hands together. This was stupid. So she
was working with her idol. No big deal. He said himself there were
no limits in art. He technically couldn’t laugh at her for her own
“self expression,” unless he wanted to be labeled a hypocrite.

Evie saw Traevyn glance at her out of the
corner of her eye after she had prepared her materials. She knew
she looked ridiculous. She pointed her brush at the canvas like she
was trying to cast a spell on it and her hand trembled badly. She
made a frustrated growl and tried to shake her hands, only to
assume the same position with the same result.

Traevyn smirked, set his tube of paint down
and closed it, then went over to her. “Evie,” he said softly. She
jumped and whirled to look at him. He gave her an amused smirk and
placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “For goodness
sake, take a deep breath.”

She closed her eyes and forced air into her
lungs, letting it out in a powerful rush.

He took the paintbrush from her fingers and
set it aside, then took her hands in his and rubbed them lightly.
“Why are you trembling so much?”

She looked down, a little more than
humiliated at having him notice, and a little more than flustered
at having him touch her. “I—I—It’s just…”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,
Evie. This is not a job interview and I am not appraising you for
your worth. Just paint. I would never criticize, never condemn.
Here, turn around.” He turned her toward the canvas and went to
stand behind her. He picked up the paintbrush and put it back in
her fingers, keeping his hand over hers. “Just let it flow through
you,” he instructed. “The vision, the emotions, the inspiration.
Let it come from within you. You are just the vessel the image is
using to tell its story. Listen to it; let it guide you.”

Evie closed her eyes as she listened to his
deep voice. It was like black seduction, and he was standing very
close to her. She felt the heat of his body and her fingers tingled
from the touch of his hand on hers. She opened her eyes, swallowed
hard, and applied the brush to the canvas, drawing out a sleek line
of red.

Traevyn smiled. “Good,” he murmured, keeping
his hand in place over hers. “Just feel it, Evie.”

Her heart refused to beat in a normal way,
and she kept getting flashes of Traevyn at the beach shirtless and
wet, laughing, grinning, kissing her cheek… Of his voice, and the
feel of his touch, and that stupid strand of hair in his face…
Before she knew it, she was painting almost wildly, her hand moving
on its own.

Traevyn stepped back, watching her. After a
moment, he returned to his own canvas and began to work.

An hour went by before Evie stopped. When
she had exhausted her inspiration, she stepped back and looked at
her work with a frown. It was the image of a heart being consumed
in flames, but it was camouflaged in a background of blazing red
and orange. She scratched her head. She knew it wasn’t finished,
but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“That’s very good, Evie,” Traevyn remarked as
he glanced over from his own project. “What is it?”

“I—I don’t know.” She gave
him a nervous glance. There was a strong possibility that it might
be lust, but she was
not
going to tell him that. “I don’t know how to
finish it. I don’t feel it anymore.” Maybe if he came and stood
close to her like he had done before… And speak to her in those
sensual tones…

“That happens,” he said. “Just leave it be.
Finish it when it comes back to you.”

She silently hoped it never did. Lusting
after Traevyn Whitelaw was not something on her to-do list. It
troubled her that she had felt it so strongly in the first place.
The man was thirty years old and she was pretty sure that lusting
after the person who was technically your teacher was ethically
wrong somehow… Even if he was amazingly good-looking.

She glanced over at his painting and raised
an eyebrow in surprise. She wasn’t sure what it was going to be
yet, but the colors were bright and vivid, something she had not
seen in his work in quite some time. She smiled.

The phone rang and he stepped away from his
painting with a frown. Setting his brush down, he went to answer
it. Evie studied his work while he was gone, then looked at hers
some more. She smiled as she thought of how he had instructed her
with such patience. She felt bad that she had thought he would be
harsh and critical. The past several hours had shown her a side of
Traevyn that she was eager to learn more about.

The door opened and he came back in. Evie
turned toward him with a smile. “Anyone import—” Her smiled faded
and morphed into a look of concern. He was horribly pale and no
trace of the momentary happiness he had been experiencing remained.
He looked drawn and fatigued and so sad. “Are you all right?” she
whispered.

He said nothing. He walked slowly to the
painting he had been working on and stared at it for a long moment.
Then, without warning, he grabbed a pocket knife that he used to
sharpen his charcoal and drove it into the canvas.

Evie let out a shriek and jumped backward in
horror.

Traevyn’s hand was shaking
as he released the knife. He stared at the marred painting,
breathing heavily. “I call this one
Death
of Passion
.
What
do you think?” He fixed her with a sinister look.

Evie let out a slow breath. “I think I need
to go change my pants,” she grumbled. “Because I’m pretty sure I
just crapped ‘em.”

He kept his eyes on her for a breath or two,
then lowered his gaze and gave a weak, sad smile. He sat down in
his chair and rested his head in his hand wearily.

Evie watched him, unsure of what to do. It
was only after a moment that she realized he had tears running
lonely trails down his cheeks. She stood frozen, immobile. What was
she supposed to do? Traevyn was such a loner. She was still, more
or less, a stranger. She had no idea how to offer comfort to
someone who could be so cold and distant. She didn’t know how he
would react to her attempt at comfort. Would he be offended? Or
feel intruded upon?

“Do you know what today is, Evie?” he
murmured.

She said nothing.

“Three years ago today my daughter was
killed.”

Her eyes widened and she brought her hand to
her mouth.

“I usually spend this day either drinking
myself into oblivion, or contemplating suicide. Today is the first
day since it happened that I’ve laughed, which is what my daughter
was all about. Laughter.” His smile was small and pained.

“She loved to laugh. She loved the beach.
She loved to play. When you invited me to go with you and Seth
tonight my immediate reaction was that it would be disrespectful to
attempt to have any semblance of a good time on such an awful day,
but the more I thought about it, I realized that Leanna would have
chosen laughter and light over dark sadness any day. I went with
you because it was something she would have loved, and because I
couldn’t say no to your kindness, Evie. I just couldn’t.”

He met her eyes. “Once I was there, with you
and Seth, watching the two of you interact, I was reminded of what
it felt like to have a family. And it hurt. But, strangely, it also
felt nice. It felt nice to not be so isolated with my sorrow. It’s
not that I forgot the acute pain in my heart at her absence, for
that will be with me forever, but it was just…” He sighed as he
searched for the words.

“Nice to not have to be so alone,” she
murmured. His eyes held so much pain when he looked at her. Pain
and sorrow and an enormous amount of guilt. He gave a slow nod,
then put his face in his hands.

“It didn’t feel wrong at the time,” he
whispered. “To laugh… I’m so sorry.”

Evie didn’t think he was apologizing to her.
He was apologizing to his daughter, for daring to laugh, to try and
move forward. She took a tentative step toward him, her heart
breaking as she watched him cry softly. Who had he spoken with? Who
had made him feel like he should punish himself for celebrating his
daughter’s love for life? She reached out slowly and placed her
hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, she extended it
across his back so her arm was around him.

“Traevyn,” she breathed, “there is nothing
wrong in what you did. There is nothing wrong with laughing,
especially when it’s what your daughter would have loved. Whoever
made you feel like it was wrong is stupid.” She felt so at a loss.
She knew there were no real words of comfort she could offer. Not
for a situation like this. She sighed and rested her forehead
against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Traevyn,” she whispered. “You
know I didn’t know.”

He shook his head. “Evie, you saved me from
horrible pain this evening. You and your brother made me remember
the beauty of my daughter’s life and not just the tragedy of her
death. I will never forget that.”

She closed her eyes, swearing she could feel
his pain in her own heart. She hesitated only a moment before she
wrapped her other arm around him and held him in an awkward
embrace.

Traevyn closed his eyes as Evie’s warmth
surrounded him. Warmth. It was so foreign. He was so used to cold
solitude. Evie. He didn’t even know why he had just told her all he
had. He didn’t know why he had decided to come back into the room
after he’d hung up the phone. Any other time he would have just
taken his leave, would have isolated himself to cry alone, would
never have involved her—a near stranger—in his sorrow. He didn’t
know why he had returned, why he felt comforted by her. It was
strange, so out of character… He sat up and wiped his eyes.
“Forgive me.” He stood abruptly and knocked her off of him. “My
problems are not your problems. I shouldn’t have involved you.” He
turned and headed toward the door.

Evie could hardly comprehend what was going
on. One minute she was holding him and the next she was stumbling
backwards trying not to fall on her butt. “Traevyn!” she cried. She
lunged forward without thinking and grabbed his hand. “You can’t
just walk away! I can’t let you go and suffer alone.” He was always
alone. No one should have to be so isolated.

“I am used to being alone,” he almost
snarled.

Her grip on his hand tightened as he tried
to move away from her. “You shouldn’t have to be. Traevyn, it’s
okay to talk to me. I would never criticize or condemn you either.
You do a good enough job of doing that to yourself. Please, I know
you’re stubborn and prideful, but don’t shut me out just because
talking to someone instead of brooding alone is foreign to you. It
might do you some good to have some company.” She couldn’t stand
the thought of him going in his room and sobbing again. It hurt her
heart.

He heaved a sigh and turned to face her. His
icy demeanor softened somewhat, and he took her hand between both
of his. “Evie, I mean no offense,” he said, his voice soft. “I
understand your point; I do, but I can’t talk about it. It amazes
me that I was able to say as much as I did. When I speak of what
happened three years ago, it’s like someone is taking a razorblade
and dissecting my heart. It hurts too badly. You must
understand.”

She gave a slow nod and gazed up into his
eyes. It made a dull ache settle into her heart to look at the hurt
in their amazing depths.

He shook his head and gently touched her
cheek with his fingertips. “You are a good person. I know you’re
concerned, but I need to handle this on my own. It’s what I’m used
to.”

She nodded again because she didn’t know what
else to do. “Whatever you need, Traevyn,” she murmured.

His lips upturned in a pained smile. “Thank
you.” He turned away from her and walked slowly out of the room.
Away from warmth. Away from light. Back to the shadows. Back to his
familiar darkness. Back to hell.

Chapter Nine

There was a winding trail through the
eucalyptus trees that led to a small plateau overlooking the ocean.
Evie had discovered it that morning by accident. She hadn’t been
able to sleep very well after what had happened with Traevyn. She’d
dozed mostly, and at five o’clock she’d realized, as she stared
wide-eyed up at the ceiling, that there was no hope of her getting
back to sleep anytime soon. So she had taken a walk, deciding to
explore the surroundings a bit.

It was evening now and she stood on the same
plateau. She hadn’t seen Traevyn all day, but she hadn’t gone
looking for him either. She didn’t want to bother him, even though
everything within her was screaming to find him and see if he was
all right. She didn’t want to pry. He had insisted on his solitude,
and she’d told him she would respect that. She just couldn’t shake
the image of him slumped wearily in that chair, crying and hurt. It
haunted her.

Curiosity nagged at her. Who had been on the
phone, and why had they called? What had they said to hurt Traevyn
so badly? She sighed and folded her arms as tendrils of fog curled
around her, misting her face. The waves lapped their rhythm up onto
the shore below and crashed against the cliffs. Everything else,
aside from the pounding sea, was quiet and serene. She couldn’t
decide if the thundering waves and the cries from the gulls
wheeling above in the sky were tranquil, or mournful. She imagined
it must be either very therapeutic, or very dangerous, to be all
alone with only your thoughts.