SELA OPENED THE door before he got to the front steps.
"Well, don't you look a lot better than the last time I saw you," she smiled.
"Sierra offers hot showers, a good place to sleep, and a change of clothes, along with one first-class breakfast in the middle of the afternoon. I think she wanted to know what I've been doing lately, but she didn't ask."
"My sister knows a lot of things, especially how to keep them to herself."
She opened the door so he could walk in. "I finished your painting. Do you want to see it?"
Nathan nodded and Sela led the way again upstairs to her studio. Dusk light filled the room.
"I worked on it all day. You really need to see it in morning light, but you'll be able to get the idea of it. Here, hold on."
An easel rested perpendicular to the windows, facing the doorway. It was covered by a light cloth. Sela pulled the cloth free of the painting.
"What do you think?" she said.
Nathan breathed in, surprised. He could feel the sunlight and the vivid blue sky. He saw the orange poppies that filled the field, a field that stretched to the horizon. In the foreground a man lay asleep on the ground surrounded by the color. He recognized his own face. The painting emanated joy, and harmony.
"This isn't what I described to you," he said.
"You did when you were dreaming. Over and over. You kept returning to it."
Nathan looked away from the painting and at Sela.
"There won't be any more dreams."
"Are you glad you have this one to see?"
"Yes."
"How do you know there won't be any more?" Sela stayed standing where she was and yet he felt as if they were both of one accord, as if they were one body together, one spirit. He had never experienced that feeling before, that kind of connection, not even with Jenny.
"Because the anomaly is gone. Whatever was in my brain, whatever it was there for, it's gone. I'm sure of it."
"So what will you do now?"
Nathan walked over to her. "I think I'm probably in Canyon City for life," he said.
Sela smiled. "Good to know."
YOU ARE READING
The Magic Hour
Mystery / Thriller"It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof." -Childe Rowland "T...
