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Clara poked her head out of her studio and looked at Peter Though her face showed simple curiosity he felt accused His mind raced but he knew he couldn’t lie to her Not about this, anyway

‘I went in while you were at the séance Do you mind?’

‘Mind? I’?’

Should he say he needed some Cadmium Yellow? A number four brush? A ruler?

‘Yes’ He went over and put his long ar I’m sorry I should have waited until you were here and I should have asked’

He waited to see her reaction His heart sank She was looking up at hi

‘You really wanted to see it? Peter, that’s wonderful’

He shriveled

‘Co in the center of the room ‘Tell me what you think’

She whisked the sheet off the easel and there it was again

Thehe’d ever seen

It was so beautiful it hurt Yes That was it The pain he felt came from outside hi, Clara’ He took her hand and looked into her clear, blue eyes ‘It’s the best thing you’ve done I’m so proud of you’

Clara’s mouth opened but no words came out She’d waited all her artistic life for Peter to understand, to ‘get’, one of her works To see more than paint on a canvas To actually feel it She knew she shouldn’t care so much Kneas a weakness Knew her artist friends, including Peter, said you must create for yourself and not care what anyone thinks

And she didn’t care about any one, just this one She wanted the man who shared her soul to also share her vision At least once Just once And here it was And, blessing of blessings, it was the one painting thatto the allery owner in Quebec in just a few days now The one she’d poured everything into