do, a very beautiful child in a field of heather. The only difference is, you see the little girl I painted and she doesn’t.”
“Have you told her? No, I can see that you haven’t. And even if you did, she wouldn’t believe you. Are there anymore of her?”
“You are a very clever man. Yes, there are two more. One I will never part with and the other is still wet, and I haven’t decided the fate of that one yet. The first one I painted of her, she was about nine or so. It’s my favorite piece I’ve ever done. She is sitting in a large chair that we have since gotten rid of reading Sun Tzu on The Art of War and understanding it. Ben, my partner, decided she was much too smart for the crap they had been reading in class and took her to the library. She came home with that and several others, including Lady Chatterley’s Lover that he had bought in a used bookstore on the way home. I believe she may still have that copy somewhere.”
Byron laughed with him and looked back at the painting. He wanted it now more than before. The story with this one had to be just as entertaining and he could not wait to hear it.
“And this one? Why a field of heather?” Byron was already thinking where to put it when he got it home.
Austin looked lovingly at the painting and told him why. “Ronnie came from an abusive childhood. If you don’t know that already, then I’m sure you’ll hear about it. I’m not sure of all the details, but for the most part, she ran away when she was just a child. I found her one night sleeping behind a dumpster having a nightmare. She had been eight at the time and nearly starved and frozen cold. I brought her home with me and Ben and I cleaned her up. The scars that child had would make you cry, and not just from the physical abuse either.
It took us nearly six months to get her to trust us even slightly. And longer still to get her to tell us her name. We never formally adopted her, not that we could back then. We just told people she was our sister’s child and we were caring for her. Then when she was twelve, a man showed up out of nowhere and demanded his daughter back. Of course, we knew it was her father; she had told us enough about him that we knew it had to be him. We denied knowing Ronnie. I can’t remember now what he called her, but it wasn’t what she had told us. After he left, we went in search of her. She was in the park, lying just how you see her in a bed of heather. When Ben asked her why she had hidden there, she said that if she was going to die this time by his hand, she wanted to be able to smell the pretty flowers while she died. It broke our hearts. Our relationship changed after that. She became our child then. I think it was because she believed then that we would not give her up. I love that child as though she was of my blood, and so does my Ben.”
In the end, Austin gave the painting to Byron. They had shared more than a budding friendship over a charity dinner, and both men were better for it. They both loved the child that had grown into a lovely woman as well. Byron also knew that he would not help Devin win the girl’s love, but would be there if he needed him.
Ronnie showed up a few minutes later with two glasses of wine. Byron stayed for a few minutes more, and then went back to his table with the painting.
The men had exchanged numbers and addresses and Byron was happy that he had followed Ronnie to the ladies room.
After making arrangements to have the painting put into his car, he went back to his table a much happier man. Of course, he was also poorer. He wrote his mother a check for the painting and told her he would explain later. Yes, he was much happier, he decided.
~~~
Devin went home right after the dinner. He had made an ass of himself and as much as he wanted to blame Ronnie, he knew that he could not. He had been cruel to her and he had done so publicly. His mother was really mad at him and he was sure one or all of his brothers
“Have you told her? No, I can see that you haven’t. And even if you did, she wouldn’t believe you. Are there anymore of her?”
“You are a very clever man. Yes, there are two more. One I will never part with and the other is still wet, and I haven’t decided the fate of that one yet. The first one I painted of her, she was about nine or so. It’s my favorite piece I’ve ever done. She is sitting in a large chair that we have since gotten rid of reading Sun Tzu on The Art of War and understanding it. Ben, my partner, decided she was much too smart for the crap they had been reading in class and took her to the library. She came home with that and several others, including Lady Chatterley’s Lover that he had bought in a used bookstore on the way home. I believe she may still have that copy somewhere.”
Byron laughed with him and looked back at the painting. He wanted it now more than before. The story with this one had to be just as entertaining and he could not wait to hear it.
“And this one? Why a field of heather?” Byron was already thinking where to put it when he got it home.
Austin looked lovingly at the painting and told him why. “Ronnie came from an abusive childhood. If you don’t know that already, then I’m sure you’ll hear about it. I’m not sure of all the details, but for the most part, she ran away when she was just a child. I found her one night sleeping behind a dumpster having a nightmare. She had been eight at the time and nearly starved and frozen cold. I brought her home with me and Ben and I cleaned her up. The scars that child had would make you cry, and not just from the physical abuse either.
It took us nearly six months to get her to trust us even slightly. And longer still to get her to tell us her name. We never formally adopted her, not that we could back then. We just told people she was our sister’s child and we were caring for her. Then when she was twelve, a man showed up out of nowhere and demanded his daughter back. Of course, we knew it was her father; she had told us enough about him that we knew it had to be him. We denied knowing Ronnie. I can’t remember now what he called her, but it wasn’t what she had told us. After he left, we went in search of her. She was in the park, lying just how you see her in a bed of heather. When Ben asked her why she had hidden there, she said that if she was going to die this time by his hand, she wanted to be able to smell the pretty flowers while she died. It broke our hearts. Our relationship changed after that. She became our child then. I think it was because she believed then that we would not give her up. I love that child as though she was of my blood, and so does my Ben.”
In the end, Austin gave the painting to Byron. They had shared more than a budding friendship over a charity dinner, and both men were better for it. They both loved the child that had grown into a lovely woman as well. Byron also knew that he would not help Devin win the girl’s love, but would be there if he needed him.
Ronnie showed up a few minutes later with two glasses of wine. Byron stayed for a few minutes more, and then went back to his table with the painting.
The men had exchanged numbers and addresses and Byron was happy that he had followed Ronnie to the ladies room.
After making arrangements to have the painting put into his car, he went back to his table a much happier man. Of course, he was also poorer. He wrote his mother a check for the painting and told her he would explain later. Yes, he was much happier, he decided.
~~~
Devin went home right after the dinner. He had made an ass of himself and as much as he wanted to blame Ronnie, he knew that he could not. He had been cruel to her and he had done so publicly. His mother was really mad at him and he was sure one or all of his brothers
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