Page 68 of Sinful Skulls
After the meal, Brody brings the painting in from the other room.
“Oh, Daisy. This is beautiful.” She begins to cry.
It’s a portrait of her standing under a willow tree, holding her stomach in her hands. She’s in a sundress and barefoot, standing in the grass.
“Look what’s carved into the tree,” she says, weeping even harder. Jackson wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder to see where’s she’s pointing. He smiles at the heart engraved with Willow + Jackson in the middle.
Jesse moves to my side. “That’s really beautiful. I paint too.”
“Oh, yes, I saw the mural in the baby’s room. It’s amazing.”
“Why don’t you come downstairs, and I’ll show you my studio. You’re free to use it anytime.”
“I’d love to. Right now, I’m painting at Brody’s kitchen table. Not that I’m complaining, but it is nice to have some privacy when creating.”
Brody kisses me on the forehead before I follow her down the stairs. “I’ll be out back. Take your time,” he tells me.
When she opens the door, I instantly feel a comradery with her. “Oh my gosh. You have a great space. Are all of these yours?” I begin to flip through the paintings leaning against the wall.
“Yeah, these are my lighter pieces. The darker ones are kept across the hall.”
I abruptly stand upright.
She chuckles sadly. “These are the pieces I let the world see, but sometimes we create things others might not understand. At least I do.”
“Did Brody talk to you about my art?” I accuse, taking a step away from her.
She holds her hands up. “Nope. Just one artist talking freely to another. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You didn’t … I just … I also paint things I don’t show everyone.”
“I thought so. I’m excellent at reading people.”
“Well, you’re spookily good at it.” I laugh nervously, still unsure how she knew about my darker paintings.
“My dark creative side was born out of necessity.” She waves for me to follow her.
My brows pull together as she pulls a key from around her neck to unlock the door. My fingers begin to tingle, and suddenly it’s not Jesse, but Henry unlocking the door.
When it opens and she turns the light on, it sends him back to the corners of my mind.This is not the same thing, I remind myself. But it does make me wonder how many artists have works they keep to themselves.
I walk in and spin in a circle. It’s not the same as my dark art. Not even close. This doesn’t come from her imagination. It doesn’t even come from someone who sees the darkness in the world. This is something she’s lived. It tells a story … one that makes me very sad.
“It’s incredible.”
She walks around the room. “I’ve added to it over the years, but I don’t spend as much time in here as I used to. I’ve healed a lot through my art. I don’t go to this headspace much anymore.”
“My darkness is more imaginative, and maybe, oh I don’t know, sensual.”
Jesse nods without judgement as she pulls her long silver-black hair over her shoulder. “If you ever want to talk about your art, just know I’m here. Brody did mention you were kind of in a bad place when he found you in Reno. He only told the club because he didn’t want anyone to worry why he was going to be gone so long. We all look out for each other around here.”
“Yeah, I had just found out I was adopted. I was kind of in a bad headspace, but I’m okay now.”
“He really likes you.”
“I like him too.”
Her gaze roams over my face. “I feel like I already know you. You’re so familiar to me.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, you’re free to use the studio anytime you want. The door is always open.”
