"What do you mean?" I growled, annoyed they had interrupted what is supposed to be the best day of my life. "Do you really have to make accustions now? Could you not wait until, like, tomorrow?"

I want to run my hands through my long red hair, but as it was in an up-do, I am unable to without Amelie growling at me. Literally growling. "Claire, you know its true!"

"No!" I screamed, picking up my skirts and running from the scene ignoring the gasps of horror and cries of my name.

I ran to the one place I could think of. My husband's art studio. Using the key tied around my neck, I unlocked the old white wooden door, locking it again behind me. I released a breath I hadn't known I was holding. The studio was kept clean; empty canvases stacked in the corner, brushes cleaning in jars of water, paint palettes lined up neatly. Hung up on the far wall, opposite to the large window revealing the beach, were the finished pintings. Large and small, they covered every inch. My face, over and over again, thousands of expressions. Myself sat at home playing with Boo, one hand on my stomach. Sat on the beach, playing in the waves - it must be while we were just friends as I have a flat stomach. He has captured the light in my eyes using light paints and precise colour matches on my hair and eyes. They went on, thousands of them, some of both of us, some even of our three-member family. Silent tears escaped from my eyes and I didn't bother to clear them. James is truly devoted to our family, the love evident in every brush stroke he leaves in his paintings. I must show him my love too. With an image set in my mind, I gathered the colours and brushes needed, selecting a fairly average sized canvas to paint upon.

Once, on one of our slightly boring days, James told me all about the art of painting. He explained what each stroke of the brush represents, what each colour describes. I devoted all my love for him into filling the whiteness. How long it took, I do not know, but the sun had long set and I had a new audience of three. My husband was sat opposite me, our canvases hidden from one-another. Amelie cradled Eloise like a loving aunt, not speaking a word other than to the infant. With a final flourish, I admired my piece. Placing hte paintbrush down, I let myself relax, my bones cracking back into place from where they had been stuck so long. The darkness outside washed away the brilliant view, but I didn't need it to make my art. I used what came from the soul, not from the eyes, and to say I was please with it would be an understatement. My American home stared back at me surrounded by darkness and rough edges. It was my way of showing that I do not want to go back to America. I will leave it for my old family, telling them I have moved on and the past is a dangerous place to go.

I am not going back.

This is my home.

Here Comes Trouble (A Morganville fanfic set after Daylighters)Read this story for FREE!