Page 17 of Tribulation Pass

“Holy smokes,” Anne said. “She’s lucky to be alive, poor thing. Atticus said we were going to have a long-term guest but I wasn’t expecting her until sometime tomorrow. I went and freshened up the cabin early this morning before the storm hit.”

“She’s very…resilient,” he said for lack of anything better.

Anne tilted her head and studied him. “And what is it about this woman that has you so bothered?”

“I’m not bothered. I just want to paint her.”

Mick snorted. “What else is new? You’ve been painting or drawing pretty women since you were twelve. Remember that nude I caught you drawing of Stella Hanson? I saved your life that day. Bart Hanson would’ve hunted you down and skinned you alive if he’d caught wind of that. Man’s always been a jealous fool.”

“Maybe if Stella wasn’t so free with her favors Bart wouldn’t be so jealous,” Anne said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s true,” Duncan said. “I didn’t have to use much of my imagination to improvise the sketch after she was doing her gardening in nothing more than a bikini and sun hat. Twelve-year-old me got an important education that summer.”

“There were men three times your age that got an education that summer,” his mother said, shaking her head. “But there’s something different about this woman. You don’t just want to paint her. When something beautiful catches your eye you put it to paper no matter what. Nothing has ever gotten in your way. But you hesitated when you were talking about her. Like you’re confused as towhyyou want to paint her.”

“Have I ever told you how irritating your perception is?” Duncan asked.

“You’ve mentioned it a time or two,” Anne said, putting her hand on top of his and squeezing affectionately.

“I don’t know,” Duncan said. “She’s hard to describe. She looks like an Amazon warrior ready to lead her troops into battle. I can see it on canvas so clearly. White-blond hair that flows behind her as she rides her stallion full speed ahead. She’s a queen and regal with it, with bones that could cut like a knife and a presence that’s both strong and submissive at the same time.”

“She sounds…interesting,” Anne said, biting back a smile and giving her husband a look. “I can see why you want to paint her.”

“Oils, watercolors, charcoal, pencil…it doesn’t matter the medium. I just have to get the images of her out of my head. There’s a sadness about her…I want to know. She’s a puzzle. And Atticus is helping her escape something. I’m sure of it. He’s hired her as the manager for the sporting goods store. Dollars to donuts she doesn’t know anything about fishing rods or kayaks. And he’s leased her the lake house, so she’s in the middle of family and protected.”

“Maybe she needs family,” Anne said. “I did when I came here.”

Duncan nodded. “She said her father had died and he and Atticus were close as brothers.”

“Then that’s all the reason you need,” Anne said. “Family is family, whether it’s by blood or not. And to Atticus, that girl is family.”

“And you’re halfway in love with her,” Mick said. “I’ve never heard you talk about Jenna the way you’ve talked about a woman you’ve known a matter of hours.”

“Love is a far cry from art,” Duncan said.

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from the truth,” Mick said, chuckling.

“Is she still at your place?” Anne asked. “Lord, son. I know I raised you with manners. Please tell me you didn’t leave this woman in your house, sopping wet, while you came to bum brownies and ice cream from your parents.”

Duncan’s lips twitched. “It sounds like Dad isn’t the only writer in the family. Y’all are both a little dramatic this morning. And no, the rain let up a little while ago, and I drove her to the lake house. I even stopped by her car and got her stuff out. I didn’t drop it in the mud or anything.”

“You’re such a romantic,” his mother said, patting her hand across her heart.

“And then I drove her home and dumped her in bed, where I’m sure she’ll stay for a couple of days. She drove pretty much nonstop from New York.”

“The plot thickens,” Mick said.

“Yeah, she’s let a couple of things slip,” Duncan said, remembering what she’d said before he’d left her. “I can get her car chained and towed sometime tomorrow. She needs to stay put and rest.”

“I can swing by and check on her tomorrow,” Anne said. “See if there’s anything she needs.”

“She appreciated you stocking the fridge,” Duncan said. “I got the impression she’s not used to people doing simple acts of kindness for her.”

“Then we’ll change that,” Anne said. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to go home and paint her. And then I’ll wait until she’s coherent and see if I can convince her to sit for me.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be painted?” Anne asked.

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