Chapter 1

I was bored.

I was among a group of people I didn’t know, celebrating the marriage of two people I had no history with. They looked happy and in love, but then so did I when I got married.

Left to my own devices, I slipped away among the trees. I had to hand it to them, this part of Ireland was beautiful, pastures divided by stone walls, stately mountains rising above the glens and fields, groves of trees and quaint villages, it looked like what it was, a perfect place for an outdoor wedding.

I was here, wait, why was I here again? Oh yeah, my sister and mother thought it would be a good idea for me to get away for a while. I think they shipped me off because my divorce became final the same day my now exwife’s engagement announcement hit the local papers. Afraid I might do something inappropriate would be my guess. Then again, I’m pretty sure she never dated anyone until after we separated, but it didn’t take her long to fall in love again. I hoped he didn’t bore her.

That’s why she said she left me. I wasn’t boring, exactly, she was just bored with me and our life. Not enough excitement for her. We’d been married for thirty months.

Well, at least she was upfront about it, one discussion and she was gone the next day. I didn’t try to talk her out of it, offer extravagant things to keep her with me, swear I’d change. I just let her go.

It kind of pissed her off that I didn’t appear to pine for her, and she confronted me two weeks later with a little mini-rant. “Don’t you miss me? I thought you’d at least try to fight for me.”

Again I pissed her off because I didn’t act upset. She jumped me in the neighborhood pub we used to frequent, and while it wasn’t filled with friends, exactly, most all there knew us.

“Why did you think I’d fight for you, Wendy? Who would I fight, anyway? You made your decision, didn’t try to talk to me about it before you made it, gave me no clue you were unhappy, you just left. Say I convinced you to come home, what happens six months down the road when I’m gone on a job and you get bored again? And you know, now that I’ve had time to think about it, you kind of bore me too. Alright, to be honest, you bored the shit out of me. All your conversations for the last few months started with the word me and ended with the word me. When there stopped being an us I kind of tuned you out. Besides, you went to the art gallery opening with James Broad, and the steeplechases with Howard Kennedy. Doesn’t sound like you were sitting around pining for me now, now does it?

Know what conclusion I’ve reached? You didn’t really want to split up, you just wanted a time out to explore other options, then come home to a humbled and attentive spouse. No, I think you were right when you moved out. Goodbye, Wendy.”

Most around us grinned, and a few actually laughed. In a fit of rage she threw her drink in my face and stormed out. The owner of the bar just smirked and threw me a tee shirt with his logo on it. I washed my face, put on the shirt, and went back to the darts tournament.

Once word got out, I was amazed at the number of women who wanted to console me, cheer me up, or just plain screw me. I stayed away from most, using my brooding, introspective artist persona to it’s maximum potential. It made them want me more, and two weeks before the divorce was final I slept with three of her closest friends. I could have done most of them, but these were the only single ones in the bunch. I gave them heartfelt thanks, and little charcoal sketches I made of them, all nudes. They insisted I sign them with a personalized message. Who knows, maybe they’ll be worth something some day. I heard she screamed when they showed them to her on their phones during her engagement party.

The icing on the cake was when I sent them a wedding present, which they opened in front of the bridal party. My one act of inappropriateness. It was a large painting of Wendy, nude, in a not so ladylike position. My note was for her husband. “I thought you might like this, I know I have no use for it any more. Look at it years down the road, when her looks go, or she fattens up, and remember the hot woman you married.” Wendy tried to throw champange on it, but her new husband, always a pragmatist, knocked the flute from her hand. Seemed he thought it might be worth holding on to, as an investment.

Shit, I forgot the descriptions, didn’t I? All right, Wendy was five seven, blond hair, green eyes, great lips, with a 34B bra size, a twenty-four inch waist, and 36 inch hips, held up by a very attractive set of legs. Combined, she was a very nice package.

I’m six feet even, a hundred seventy pounds, in pretty good shape because I worked out, a lot, because of my job. I’ll get to that later. Brown curly hair I wore a little too long for Wendy’s taste, and a short, full beard. I had blue eyes, and was told by one woman I had very pretty hands, with long delicate fingers. Not how I would have described them, but it helped get me laid, so I agreed. The size of my equipment? Why should that matter? Suffice to say, I was happy with it, and that’s all that mattered. Besides, not one of my lovers ever complained about it, or laughed when they got their hands on it. Oh, and I’m Damon Dawes.

Wendy came from money. Not megabucks, but her parents were very comfortable. I was upper middle class at best, but by the time we met I was pretty well established and was doing all right.

What did I do? I was a professional artist, and a pretty good one. A good many people thought so, people with money they wanted to give me.

I wasn’t one of those garret dwelling, straving in the name of my craft type of artist. Screw that. I liked to eat. I wandered into what I do by accident. I had a friend in college that loved his boxer, so much she was pretty much a constant companion outside of school. I had to do a project for class, so I chose his dog and did a formal painting of her. I got an A, and he was thrilled beyond words when I gave it to him.

He took it home and hung it in his old room. His parents were so impressed they moved it into one of their formal living rooms, and talked about it. I was just about to graduate, with no work prospects, when one of their friends called, wanting to know if I’d do a portrait of his horse. Of course, not having anything to do, I agreed, and showed up at his farm the week after I graduated.

His horse was a champion Appaloosa, unusual because he was chestnut with white spots on his rump. He really was a magnificant animal, so it was fairly easy. I did about a dozen sketches of him standing, walking, and galloping, and took about a hundred pictures. It took me four weeks of concentrated work before I got the image I wanted. He was in his pasture, galloping, and I captured him with all four feet off the ground, tail streaming out behind him.

It was half lifesize, the biggest canvas I had ever worked with, but you could see every detail, the flare of his nostrils, the dust beneath him, the shine on his hooves, the curve of his neck, his muscles rippling underneath his skin. I was very nervous when I presented it to him. If he didn’t like it, I was out of about a grand in materials and four weeks of my life.

He surprised me by crying like a baby, and his wife was stunned. I wasn’t much of a businessman back then, and I had no idea what to charge. Once he calmed down, he grinned.

“You know, I had quotes from some artists up to fifty thousand, and I don’t believe any of them could have captured his essence any better. I’m going to take advantage of you young man, and give you ten...” His wife cleared her throat just then, and he grinned. “fifteen thousand. Fair enough?”

Fifteen grand for four weeks work? Hell yes I thought it was fair. His wife smiled. “My husband is a very good businessman, young man, something you need to learn in order to have a successful career. I want you to paint a portrait of my dog. I’ll pay your five thousand for it, and add six business lessons from us as a bonus. Deal?”

Another five grand for a dog? How much money did these people have, anyway? In the end, the business lessons were worth far more than the fee.

I painted her springer spaniel, and once a week for a month and a half I had dinner with them, and three hours of instruction in his study, from both. Chelsea, it seems, was a lawyer before she became a society Grand Dame, and between them, I learned to negotiate my fee up front, get a clear contract stating the length of time it would take me, and a guaranteed payday covering materials if they didn’t like the finished product, and I retained it with an option to sell while I did another. Very wise advice in the long run.

They became good friends, and I stay at their estate a few weekends a year. I painted their granddaughter at her Christening as a gift, the light from the stained glass hitting her head, forming a colored halo, and gave it to them. Chelsea swooned back into the sofa, freaking me out. When she gathered her wits again she cried for five minutes, before trying to kiss my face off. Then she called her daughter and her husband, demanding they come, immediately. To say they were stunned was an understatement. The mother cried, and her husband, the diplomat with the stiff upper lip, had tears leaking down his cheeks.

The second year of our association, Chelsea called, demanding I meet her without Henry knowing. She handed me a group of pictures. “Can you do it? I want it lifesize, and I want to be able to present it to Henry for his birthday. You have four months.”

I worked sixty and seventy hours a week on it, destroying the first in a fit of rage because it just wasn’t right. The paint was barely dry when I delivered the final product, and she insisted I stay the weekend so I could be there when she presented it to him.

Their farm house was huge, and it was full that night, many staying in one of the twelve bedrooms or the three bedroom guest house. I cleaned up pretty well, and Chelsea was often at my elbow, intorducing me to everyone, many of them movers and shakers in our state, and particularly the young, unattached women. It was her mission to get me married off. So far it wasn’t working, and let me tell you, the woman did not take failure well.

After about an hour, she tapped her champagne flute, getting their attention. “Friends, honored guests, thank you for attending Henry’s birthday party. It isn’t often we help someone reach the sixty year mark. I really hope I have everyone of you here in ten years, to celebrate the next milestone.

I thought about it as it it approached. What could I give a man who has everything he wants and the resources to get anything that strikes his fancy? It had to be personal, but more important it had to be grand, to show how much I loved him. Please, follow me to the barn.”

She latched on to Henry’s hand and we all made our way down to the barn. His barn was a showcase, paneled stalls, with brass fixtures and running water in every one, and an indoor training ring, surrounded by a balcony fitted with plush seats, so one could watch in comfort. She kept the ring dark and had the guests sit on one side. Then the lights came on, to show her standing in front of the painting, hidden by drapes.

She didn’t need to raise her voice, the natural acoustics of the ring made her words easy to hear. “My dear Henry, you are my life, so I struggled to get you a gift that would show the depth of my love for you. Aside from me and our children, there is one thing you love above all else. So, I hope you like this small gesture, given with all the love I have. Happy birthday, my darling man.”

The drapes fell to the floor, and the painting, bathed in spotlights, seemed so real it looked like they would trot forward. A lifesize portrait of Henry, dressed in a tweed jacket over a white shirt loose at the neck, wearing jodhpurs and high boots, with a small brimmed fedora on his head, astride his appoloosa. The crowd gasped, and if hadn’t been for his children standing close, I believe he would have collapsed. I grinned and slipped out of the barn, happy I had pleased them both.

I caught holy hell from both the next day. “You should have stayed! Everyone wanted to meet you, and some had work they wanted you to do.”

“Yesterday was your night, a celebration of love and life. I refused to trivialize it by talking business. I have to go in a few hours, off to Florida to paint a greyhound. Happy birthday, Henry.”

Chelsea hugged me as I stood from putting my suitcases in my car, and handed me a check. I glanced at it, having presented her with a bill for materials and nothing else. I literally almost soiled my pants when I looked at it. A hundred thousand dollars! “I can’t...”

Chelsea laughed. “What did we teach you about contracts? If you don’t have one, the buyer can pretty much pay what they want. This is what I think it’s worth. If it’s any consolation to me, one of our guests said he had a similar portrait done, not nearly as good or on such a grand scale, and he paid over two for it. I got a hell of a bargain. Take the check, with my thanks.”

By now, I was making killer money with very little overhead. I paid my parents back for my college education, and gave them a round the world cruise for their thirtieth anniversary. I added it up after five years. I was averaging about half a million to eight hindred thousand a year, hitting a million one year. I paid taxes of course, that put a dent in it, but I had hired a good accountant, and I could write off travel expenses, materials, lodging, and studio rent when it became necessary, so it was less painful than it could have been.

My reputation was growing, to the point I had to refuse work because I just couldn’t fit it in. I got a big boost when one of the portraits I did, of a young woman and her horse riding Steeplechase, got national attention. I caught their image, just as he landed from a large jump, and it made the cover of a magazine. She was stretched out over his neck, and his rump was still in the air. Sports Illustrated used it to help push the upcoming summer Olympics. I didn’t get any money because I sign all rights away when I sell, but I did get an interview for the magazine, featuring some of my better work, the crown being Henry and his horse.

I bought a house. Not one of those palatial places I often work at, but a nice four bedroom house in the country, an old farmhouse on twenty acres, with few neighbors. I was rarely there though, still living the existence of an gypsy artist. But I knew it was there, and when I got to the point where I didn’t have to travel so much, I intended to look for a nice woman and settle down, maybe have a child or two. I didn’t meet many single women in my travels, except at parties put on by the magnates I worked for. Even then, they were usually a bunch of entitled little bitches, except when they got into a ‘fuck the artist’ contest. The first vibe I got that was going on, I disappeared.

Then I met Wendy.

And believe it or not, I met her at a party hosted by Henry and Chelsea. I wasn’t actually working for them at the time, but they heard I was nearby, called me up, and invited me, so I went. Network, network, network, the touchstone of any business.

She had on a thin summer dress, modest enough, stopping just above the knee, with a square cut top that hinted of her cleavage without actually showing it. Wendy was with three friends, also in sundresses, none as modest. One was so thin it was easy to tell it was all she had on, and the others weren’t much better. She looked miserable.

I casually strolled by, and their slutdar clicked on, at least for her friends. They smelled an eligible male, and went into hunt mode. Chelsea saved me, taking my arm and introducing me, Susan so and so of the Hampton so and sos, Heather social climber of the Westchester social climbers, Patty Fruitcake of the California Fruitcakes, and Wendy Hart, daughter of a local businessman. She was the only one who gave me a smile and decent handshake, the others leered and locked down on my hand, almost forcing me to pry their fingers off.

She seated me with Wendy, and her parents. Her father asked what I did, and when I told him I was an artist he lost all interest in me. Her mother, though, knew who I was, and gushed about the Sports Illustrated cover. I was a little embarrassed until I noticed Wendy listening closely. She gave me a card with her number on it at the end of the night, and though it had been fairly pleasant, I doubted I’d call.

She never gave me a chance to decide, showing up at the studio I’d rented and inviting me to lunch. If I had been working I would have declined. I probably wouldn’t have answered the door, but I was at loose ends. I’d finished the painting, and I did my normal post painting procedure, waiting three days before looking at it again, to see if I could detect any flaws or see a possibility of change to make it better. I once held a painting for two weeks, because something just didn’t feel right. Then I noticed what my brain was trying to tell me, I’d made one hoof black, when it was actually mottled black and browns. I painstakingly repainted it, and presented it to the owner.

I hd a surprisingly good time at lunch, and agreed to join her at a gallery that Saturday night for a showing, collections by three different artists.

The gallery date was kind of fun. One artist was just awful, a personal opinion reinforced because he hadn’t had an offer on any of his work. The next wasn’t that bad technically, but his work just didn’t appeal to me. He had already sold two, confiding in us he’d made eight thousand so far, so happy he was giddy. The third must have had a following, and he was so full of himself it was unreal. It was like he was the reincarnation of Dali, Picasso, and Monet, all rolled into one. He was holding court, and little critic wannabes and pseudoexperts were fawning all over him. He had sold one, and I looked at his prices, wondering why he thought they were worth so much.

One man noticed my look and grinned. “I take it you aren’t impressed?”

I grinned. “I have no opinion. I’m just here because my date invited me.”

Wendy was looking a little too smug, and before I could stop her she told him I was also an artist. His interest peaked.

“Paint anything I’ve ever see?”

“I doubt it. I don’t do this kind of work. I just dabble.”

The artist heard us, and was miffed he’d lost some of the limelight. “What do you paint?”

“Animals, mostly.”

He couldn’t look more condescending. “Oh, you really are a dabbler. Why don’t you leave the serious stuff to people like me and not interfere?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Sage advice. I believe I will.”

He got even more pissed looking, thinking that in some way I was making fun of him. Wendy had wandered out to the lobby while this was going on, to get more wine, I suppose. What she’d actually done was pick up one of the magazines lying about. She had a triumphant smile on her face when she returned, giving the magazine to the critic. “See that? My boyfriend painted it.”

He looked at the cover, then me, and opened it to the article. He grinned. “You really are Damon Dawes! You know, I’ve seen some of your work in private homes I’ve visited over the years. I was always keen to meet you. Your eye for detail is exquisite. Tell me, how long did it take you to finish Henry on his horse?”

The artist was getting pissed. “Enough! Stop fawning on the man, Stan. He’s not even a real artist.”

Stan laughed. “Oh, he’s very much a real artist, with a growing reputation and a loyal following. More importantly, he gets paid very well for his work. Tell me Damon, how much work do you have lined up right this minute?”

I saw no reason to lie. “About fifteen months. But please, this isn’t my show. Let’s put the focus where it belongs.”

Stan grinned at the offended artist. “Hear that? Fifteen months. And would you care to guess what the going rate is for a life size Damon Dawes portrait is? A hundred thousand minimum. He’ll probably make more next year than you will off your art in your entire lifetime. Who’s the real artist now?”

The artist was really pissed now, ranting that it was people like me that trivialized his profession. “It won’t be long, you hack, before you’re reduced to doing pictures of dogs playing poker.”

I just smiled. I had a request from four men, all lifelong friends, to immortalize their dogs just that way. A Boxer, an English Bulldog, an Australian Shepard, and a Doberman. They each wanted the same portrait, personalized by having each dog holding the winning hand in their protrait. Twenty-five grand apiece, and I could do one in about a month in my spare time, since they didn’t want lifesize.

“Wendy, I think we should go now.” I thanked the gallery owner, and he embarrassed me no end by having me autograph the magazine. I did it just because I knew he’d display it, and business was business.

She tried with a straight face to apologize, but it didn’t work. I asked her to refrain in the future. A lot of my success was word of mouth references from some very rich people, and most like the idea that I was unknown by the masses. Besides, I didn’t think I could handle a flood of social climbers because I happened to be the ‘it’ thing of the month.

She grinned, and told me it was too late. Her Aunt Martha wanted a picture of her minature Highland Terrier, as soon as I could do it. It pissed me a little. “Fine. Tell her I’ll contact her in about eighteen months, when I finish what I’ve got going on now. If she can afford my fees, I’ll be glad to discuss it.”

That’s the first time I learned Wendy didn’t take no very well. Let’s just say the kiss at the end of the night was a frosty brush on the cheek, and I think she was surprised I wasn’t disappointed. She talked it over with her friends, especially the older ones. Her aunt gave her the best advice she never took. “Be careful there, Wendy, artists, writers, anyone with some sort of creative profession tend to live in their heads a lot. Especially the successful ones. I dated a sculptor once, even talked him into doing a nude of me. But he wasn’t the most social person, and trying to mold him into what I wanted was like herding cats.”

“Did you dump him?”

She looked sad for a minute. “No child, he left me. Said I was smothering him and he couldn’t take it any more. Sadly he was right to do it. Let me show you something.”

It was a two foot bronze, of a woman leaning against a tree trunk. You could look at the face and tell without a doubt it was her aunt. Of course, she was nude, and he had captured her down to the erect nipples and riot of pubic hair. If you had to describe her expression, ‘sexual afterglow’ suited best. She grinned. “He’d just finished making love to me against that tree, and snapped a picture. Four months later he gave it to me, as a parting gift. My husband hates it, and hated when we would run into him in social situations. He was always kind, though, and I would go into a funk for days afterwards. I cried like my heart was breaking when I read he’d died in a car crash, the victim of a drunk driver, because it did, a little.”

She looked sadly at the sculpture before smiling. “What I’m trying to tell you, honey, is if you want him, be prepared, and never, ever, try to make him something he’s not. It hardly ever works for average people, but with an artist, you’re doomed from the start.”

Her aunt told me about it later, when I finally got around to the portrait of her dog. Too bad she didn’t listen.

I didn’t see her for a month, working on a portrait of a pig, a national champion boar. It was actually a lot of fun, the pig was mottled shades going from jet black to pure white to vibrant reds, and I put a wicked gleam in his eye, matching the one I’d seen when they presented him with a sow to breed. I have to say, unless you like hard core sex at the most basic level, it wasn’t much to watch. The customer was pleased, and tried to talk me into doing one of him breeding a sow, and a portrait of the sow later with his piglets. I declined.

I turned up at the home of Henry and Chelsea, unannounced, just a quick hello since I was passing through. They pressured me until I agreed to spend the night, but I told them I really had to leave first thing in the morning. I was having a very relaxing afternoon, walking the rounds with Henry. He showed me one of his stallion’s offspring, pure white with a riot of black spots on the shoulders and the whithers. She was shining in the sunlight, dust filtering around her, creating a sephia haze. I had my camera out, a compact model I always carried, cpapable of very good resolution, snapping away. Henry just grinned.

I grinned back. “All right, damn you. When?”

“Next year. She should be fully grown then, and her shape will have come in. She’s got a stellar pedigree, by my stud out of Indian Princess. I suspect she will win a lot of awards in the next ten years or so. I probably won’t breed her until she’s four or five, already got the stud picked out, a colt now, but he should be absolutely marvelous when he matures.”

We walked back, talking about the Arabians a neighbor had, and the rare breed he was thinking about getting, part of a conservation program. Horses developed in India, famous for their ears, almost touching in an arch. They were very beautiful animals. He’d be the first on the East coast to have them.

Wendy was standing beside Chelsea when we entered the house, jumping into my arms and giving me a tremendous kiss. Caught by surprise, I almost threw her off, but her lips convinced me holding on would be a better idea.

“Surprise! Aunt Chelsea called, and told me to come over. You don’t mind, do you?”

What was I susposed to say? We had a very pleasant evening, a nice meal and an old movie, one of Henry’s favorites. I was staying in the guest house, so when the movie was over, I called it a night. “I have to leave early, remember?”

Henry grinned when I told him I’d be by now and then to check on the filly, and Chelsea kissed me on the cheek. Wendy looked disappointed, gave me a chaste kiss, and turned away, thinking I missed her smirk.

I woke an hour later to hear her fumbling around, then heard “SURPRISE!”, followed a little while later with a mumbled “what the...”. I thought something like that might happen, so I switched bedrooms, and she jumped into an empty room, wearing nothing but high heels and a smile. I heard her open the second bedroom, muttering, pissed because I wasn’t there. I got up and slipped out on the balcony, jumping the rail and running around to the front, sneaking in while she looked for me. She came out of the third bedroom looking pissed.

You could probably hear her scream two farms over when I grabbed her, picked her up, and rushed the bed, dumping her on it, yelling “SURPRISE!” at the top of my lungs.

I fell beside her, laughing, while she caught her breath. When she did, she gave me a list of words a proper young lady should have never heard, much less utter, strung together creatively, alluding to ancestry, physical appearance, and intelligence level. When she ran out of steam I kissed her.

Suddenly she lost all desire to speak, except in grunts and whimpers. Needless to say, when my alarm went off, we were already at it again. She was extremely disappointed that I had to leave, and got a promise out of me to call her first thing, when I got back into town.

I drove five hours, before giving up and getting a room, calling my client and telling him I’d been held up by unforseen forces, and crashing for ten straight hours.

It was a really simple job, a large white cockatoo, that I captured when his feathers were extended to maximum effect. Four days, ten grand, and I was home. She came over, admired my house, getting a tour that ended in the bedroom. She declared it quite comfortable and more than large enough, so she never left it until I had to leave a week later. She would come over every time I was home, stay until I had to leave, and eight months later I found her already there, with her clothes, cosmetics, and everything else she thought she would need to nest. We lived together for a year before we got married, at Henry’s house, with he and Chelsea footing the bill.

Her father was long gone, so Henry walked her down the aisle while Chelsea beamed. We honeymooned on a private island, a wedding gift from one of my clients, completely alone for six days. We both had nice full body tans when it was over. We moved from the island to an exclusive resort for another four days. I wanted to be there because of the waterfalls they were so famous for, a constant rainbow over them because of the mist. I probably took a thousand pictures. Of course, it had a vibrant nightlife, and almost all the beaches were clothing optional. She looked at me when we found out, and giggled. “Well, now I don’t have to worry about tan lines.” Our suits stayed in our luggage. She, it seems, was a bit of an exhibitionist, loving it when guys would watch her, but she would frown up if any woman gave me more than a casual glance.

I thought we were good, we were talking about a child in the near future, and then she was gone. Chelsea was beyond furious with her, tried to talk her into counseling, but she refused after the bar incident. Chelsea grinned at me a few months later after I’d dropped by for dinner, saying she would take a painting as a thank you gift.

“A thank you gift? For what?”

“For the prenuptial I wrote up for you.”

She had talked us into it. Wendy would inherit a nice estate when her parents passed, and I was making a lot of money, so she wrote it up where neither had a claim on the wealth of the other. A choice Wendy came to regret as my bank acount grew and her mother made some bad investments, losing most of the money and barely hanging on to the house. I ended up doing a small portrait of a chipmonk that lived just past their patio. Chelsea had tamed it down over the years until it would scamper to her feet and chatter until she fed it a treat.

I wandered a little deeper into the trees, coming out on the other side of the grove. That’s when I saw her. She was sitting on a stone wall, her shoes kicked of and her knees drawn up, her chin resting on them.

She wore some kind of barely blue dress that was just layers of light fabric, reaching just below her knees, but it was pulled up as she sat, showing a good length of thigh. Her shoulders were bare, what I could see of them underneath the riot of lightly curled red hair. It was one of the most arresting sights I had ever seen. Without thinking, I pulled out my everpresent camera, and started snapping. The camera didn’t make any noise, but something brought her head up and she turned towards me. She looked directly into my camera, and I captured her pale gray eyes, the cute little nose, and the constellation of freckles that dotted her face, arms, shoulders, and the cleavage between her breasts. Lost in thought, it took her a second or two to register that I was there and taking pictures of her. “Angel”, by the Corrs, was playing in the background, coming from the wedding. It was one of those rare moments one experiences few times in their lives, a perfect storm of vision and sound.

Her mouth turned into a frown and she moved so suddenly she fell off, landing on the other side of the wall. I took that as cue to disappear, and had faded back into the trees by the time she got up, yelling.

I rejoined the wedding party, snapping a few shots of the bride and groom, grabbing a glass of wine and drifting into the background.

She came storming across the meadow, and people parted for her like she was Moses at the Red Sea. She was still barefoot, holding her sandals in her hand. She stopped right in front of me, the gray eyes sparking with anger.

“Who are you and who are you with?”

At least that’s what I think she said, Her accent was thick with her anger, and I’m pretty sure there was some Gaelic in there somewhere.

I smiled and did a little bow. “Damon Dawes, m’lady. I’m here with Colin, my cousin.”

“Oh, you’re the Yank then, the one the whole village has been talking about. The artist.”

It was said flatly, with no emotion. I grinned.

“In my part of America, being called a Yank would be an insult for many. But in the interest of international relations, then yes, I’m the Yank.”

“What do you think gives you the right to take my picture?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. But, I am an artist, and artists are always interested in things of beauty. I’ll probably do a portrait of you, somewhere in the future.”

Her accent was getting thicker the angrier she became. “Ye’ve no right! I forbid it. You canna do it without my permission. I’ll sue you if you do!”

I just smiled. “Well in that case, I may change the shape of your nose, and the color of your eyes. I might make your breasts larger, or smaller. I’ll alter it just enough you won’t have a case, and I’ll still have the portrait.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before looking sad. “Why do you want my portrait, anyways?”

I think I shook her pretty badly. “Because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at this.” I pulled her last picture up, showing it to her. “This, this is what I want to paint. The expression on your face, the light in your eyes, the way the wind teases your hair, the sleekness of your thighs, the daintyness of your feet, the creaminess of your shoulder and cheek, festooned with a galaxy of beauty marks. And I don’t want to keep it, I just want to paint it. I’ll even give it to you if you’d like.”

She said nothing for about thirty seconds, then asked in a small voice why I was going to all the trouble of painting it, just to give it to her. What was I getting out of it?

“The sheer joy of doing it.”

I said it quietly, but with conviction, and she didn’t know what to say. The mood was broken when one of the wedding party rushed up, asking if the woman was bothering me, and telling her to leave, as she wasn’t on the guest list. The bride’s sister, I found her a pretentious bitch, a lot like the women I knew back home. It didn’t help that she had hung all over me the night before, offering to tuck me in when the dinner was over. I turned her down as gently as I could. Colin still had to deal with these people, after all.

I locked down on the tiny hand, surprising her. “But she isn’t crashing, Clarissa. You told me I could bring a date, she just ran a little late.” I turned, tugging her along. “Come on, honey, I’ve suddenly developed an appetite. Let’s get some food before it’s gone.”

They had laid out a buffet table, light finger foods, and they did look enticing. I got us a plate, helping her along. At the end, I had three selections, and she had a plate full. I seated her at a small table, and excused myself, getting us both a glass of wine.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t like Clarissa. And because you intrigue me. You know, if I’m going to immortalize you in oils, it would help if I knew your name, so I can title it.”

“Sisoban O’Mallory.”

“What kind of name is Sisoban?”

“The kind of name an illiterate, alcoholic mother would come up with because she didn’t know how to spell Soibhan.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

“Well them, Miss, I assume it is miss, right? Well then, Miss O’Mallory, let’s enjoy this food, a glass or two of wine, and I’ll escort you wherever you’d like to go afterwards.”

She settled down and ate her food. I idly wondered as I watched her if she knew how sensual she looked nibbling away. Since I could, I studied her a little more closely. She was not classically beautiful, her face was more about character. There were some lines around her eyes, and I wondered if my first estimate of her age was close.

“How old are you?”

She stopped eating and stared at me. “What gives you the right to ask me personal questions?”

“The same right I have when I decided to paint you. We’ll probably never see each other again when I leave, but I do need an address I can send the painting to. It doesn’t even have to be yours, just a place I know you’ll get it. You have nothing to lose by answering my questions, so why not be honest?”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Wow, I had you pegged at first glance in your early twenties. You age well. You’ll probably still be hot when you’re in your sixties.”

She blushed a little again, then asked me how old I was.

“I just turned thirty-three.”

She grinned. “Well then, we’re even. You thought I was younger, and I thought you were on the dark side of thirty-five.”

I wasn’t offended, just curious. “Why?”

“Your eyes seemed older than your body, if you understand what I mean. Are you against haircuts?”

I hadn’t cut my hair since Wendy and I had split. It was now brushing my shoulders, and I had to wear a ponytail when I worked.

“Not per se. Maybe I’m just lazy. Maybe I’m going for the untamed artist look. Is the beard too much?”

She laughed at my words. “I suspect laziness. Maybe you’re mourning something. And I bet you might actually not be repulsive without the beard.”

It hit a little hard when I realized it all went back to Wendy. She saw it on my face, and sighed.

“Are you married?”

She just grinned. “No. You asking?”

I grinned back. “Not right this minute. I reserve that until we’ve gotten to know each other a little better.”

“Are you? Married, I mean? You don’t wear a ring, but one never knows, especially with rascally Americans.”

“I was, for a little while. The divorce isn’t a month old yet.”

“Did you screw around on her?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. And as far as I can determine, neither did she, until after we split. She said I was just too boring to be married to.”

“Boring? Why?”

“I guess it’s because I travel a lot in my profession. She used to go with me sometimes, early in the marriage, but decided it was boring. When I get home, I liked to spend the next few days unwinding. She wanted to go to social events, I think to show me off at first, then she just wanted to party. Even when I was twenty-one, I didn’t have the party gene. I’d go to one once in awhile, a dance club on occasion, but it just wasn’t me. She started going with friends while I worked, and I think the singles scene was just too tempting. The funny thing is she remarried recently, to a guy older than me, an investment banker by trade. If she doesn’t change, I give it two to three years, and she’ll be single again. I hoped she learned some things while married to me to make her life easier.”

“Name one.”

I grinned. “Well, if nothing else, she’ll learn to avoid prenuptial agreements like the plague. Her aunt is a good friend, and a lawyer, and she made us both sign one, so she got none of my income from the term of the marriage, and had no claim on my house. I didn’t get anything from her either, but by the time we split the money aspect was definitely in my favor.”

“Painting pays that much?”

I grinned again. “Oh, I make my bills, and have a little set aside for rainy days. What about you?”

She sighed. “I’m a barmaid at the Thistle and Crown. Not glamourous, but when you have no education, in this area, you take what you can get and be glad it puts a roof over your head.”

This was said with a bit of bitterness. “What did you really want to do?”

“I shouldn’t tell you, but like you said, this is a one off. You’ll go back to your life as a successful artist, and I’ll slog along as a barmaid until I get desperate enough to marry some pratt and throw a few kids. When I lose me shape, he’ll be off, slapping it to another barmaid while I’m stuck with the children, too broke to leave him. What I really wanted to do was write children’s stories; full of hope, love, and maybe with a moral or two thrown in.”

I thought about one of my clients. He never got past high school, and it took a bitter divorce to motivate him to write. He started out, of all places, on the internet, writing erotic short stories. His last novel is still on the bestseller’s list, after thirty weeks. He is worth millions, but he still lives a pretty simple life. Even married his first editor, and they dote on each other still today, after twenty years. I painted his dog, some stray mutt he’d found on the side of the road. One of the most unusal and challenging animals I’d ever painted. He asked me a lot of questions about what I did, and I have a suspicion I’ll show up in one of his books sooner or later.

“You know, it doesn’t take education to write, it takes determination and a bit of talent. I wouldn’t even try to get someone interested in you right now. Write on the internet, there are plenty of free sites for whatever your format. Build a following, and then self publish. If you’re good enough and persistent enough, you’ll find your niche.”

I could see she’d never thought of that, and she smiled for a bit before frowning. “That’s a grand plan, for sure. All it takes is money for a computer and the internet bills. Money I dinna have.”

I was shocked to see a shadow go across her face, and looked around. Afternoon had morphed into evening, and the shadows were were getting long. The party lights were on in the tent, and a DJ was playing dance tunes. I stood and held out my hand.

“Enough reality. Come along, my lovely Irish sprite, and bewitch me all over again with your mad dancing skills.”

She giggled. “What makes you think I can dance?”

“Because you can breath, and I’ve seen how graceful you are just walking. Come.”

I was wrong about her dancing skills. She didn’t dance, she flowed with the music, pulling everyone around her in her wake. I’m not a bad dancer, but I felt like I had three left feet as I tried to follow her. Many just stopped and watched, as she twirled and dipped, her dress billowing out in a perfect bell as her dainty bare feet moved so fast you couldn’t keep up. I was saved when a slow number started.

She didn’t say a word as I held her at arm’s length, before molding into me until I think there wasn’t a millimeter of body that wasn’t making contact. I could feel the swell of her breasts against my chest, and the hard little nubs of her nipples. Bending over, I inhaled her scent, lightly kissing her neck, just once, before straightening out. She just sighed and held me tighter. I would have given the DJ a million dollars right then, if he would just keep playing that song.

I smiled at the look on her face, wondering what she would say if she knew what I was thinking. The song ended way too soon, and she pulled back, suddenly just a bit embarrassed. I took her hand and led her off the dance floor to my table with Colin and his wife, introducing them. Justine took an interest, and soon they were discussing the few people they knew.

It could have gotten awkward when she asked Sisoban what she did for a living, but I interceded. “Look at her. Do you think she needs to work? The people in her town probably pay her a fee every month so she’ll continue to be in their presence. I know I would.”

Justine laughed while Colin grinned. “Damon! I thought artists were the silent, brooding type, not wankers spouting stuff that sounds like it belongs in a seventeenth century love poem. Did you stop to kiss the Blarney Stone on your way here?”

“No, I’m just inspired by my company. Sisoban here is a writer, and I’m trying to impress her with my command of the language. Please don’t tell her I usually communicate in grunts and monosyllables. I think I’m making progress.”

After that, the ice was broken, and the girls bonded to the point they went to the ladies’ together. Colin was all over me as soon as they were out of earshot. “Tell the truth, where did you find that charming creature? I know who was on the guest list, and most all are as dull as mud.”

“I found her in the next meadow over. I didn’t want to disturb her, but she caught me taking pictures and followed me here. I thought the least I could do was offer her some refreshments and pleasant conversation.”

“Careful there mate, that artist routine will only carry you so far. I’m surprised she doesn’t have you up on charges for stalking. I’d hate to have to bail you out.”

“You’d come and get me, though, right?”

He laughed again. “Of course dear cousin. In a day or so, three at the latest. I may leave you that long so you can broaden your horizons. I’d be curious to see how your artist routine would carry with soccer hooligans.”

The girls came back just then, and Justine pulled Colin up. “Come along dear. It’s time to send Jasmine and Rutledge off to the honeymoon.”

Sisoban held out her hand, grinning. “Yes dear, come along. That’s a good lad.”

We all stood in at the edge of the meadow as Jasmine and Rutledge entered the classic old Bentley hired to take them to the airport. Rutledge looked like he was feeling no pain, and Jasmine looked a bit miffed. Just as she was entering the car she remembered she still had her bouquet, so she casually tossed it over her shoulder. Right into Sisoban’s hand. I don’t think there was a more surprised woman in the meadow.

It didn’t do much to ease the situation when I said in a loud voice, “Better hold on to it, love. We may need it, a bit later.”

It didn’t bother her as much as I thought. Her answer embarrassed me. “Oh no, ye cheap bastard. Ours will be twice as big, and twice as nice. I know you can afford it. After all,” she said, rubbing her hands down her body and lifting the dress up a bit, exposing a little more leg, “look what you’re getting for your money.”

I didn’t give up. “I beg to differ, love. All the money in the world would not be enough for you. You are a priceless treasure, too beautiful for mortal men.”

I would have said more but she dragged my head down and kissed me, KISS in capital letters. I’ve never touched lips to a mouth so soft, and hot. When she dragged her delicate little tongue across my teeth, I almost lost consciousness from pleasure. I would have stayed in that kiss forever, but she pulled back, that mischevious little grin tweaking the edges of her mouth.

Everyone was smiling, a few laughing, and Justine broke us up. “Right, you two! Let’s get you in the car before what you’re doing goes past being family friendly.”

Colin had a Land Rover, a really nice vehicle. I helped her step up into the back, getting a flash of leg as I did so. My God, how had I never noticed how sexy ankles can be? Wait, ankles? What the hell was wrong with me?

We sat snuggled in the back, not talking at all. Words suddenly seemed useless, somehow. We didn’t grope, grab, or rub either, all we did was hold hands. It was enough.

We delivered her to a large house in the center of the village. A rooming house, I found out later, run by an older lady, with very strict rules. No foolin’ around under her roof, unless you were married, and then you needed to be quiet about it. I got out, and we stood awkwardly, before she pulled my head down for an angel soft kiss.

“Goodbye, me artist. Make me beautiful, if you do paint me.”

“All I can do is record what I see, Sisoban. Your beauty will stand on its’ own.”

I watched her climb the steps to the door, with a heavy heart. She turned, outlined by the hall light, her hair shining, and waved. I almost got my camera out again.

I was on a flight home the next morning.

I’d asked Justine a favor, and she readily agreed, grinning. In due course, a laptop was delivered to one Miss Sisoban O’Mallory, along with a year’s worth of internet access, paid in full. She included my card with the note.

“Dear Miss O”Mallory,

I have yet to start on your protrait, though your beauty is still sharp in my mind. It’s not time, yet. The canvas will tell me when. In the meantime, since I didn’t pay you a sitting fee, allow me to give you this, along with my email address. I expect progress reports on your writing. I have an editor or two that owes me a favor, I could get one to look at your stories, time to time. Email me if you need anything. Your admirer, Damon.”

Justine said she showed up at her house the next day, eleven miles from the village. She had walked, carrying the laptop, demanding I take it back. She sighed, took it, and tossed it in her rubbish bin.

She said Sisoban almost screamed. “What are you doing? It’s brand new, and I checked, that isn’t cheap.”

“Child, (boy that pissed her off, Justine was just six years older) Damon said if you didn’t want it to just toss it. I agree, it is such a shame to waste it, but he was very clear. So, there you go. Would you like some tea before you leave?”

A dejected Sisoban accepted. Tea morphed into dinner, and Justine insisted on driving her home, saying she shouldn’t be out walking at night, alone. She was happy to report the last thing Sisoban did before they left was dig the computer out of the rubbish, and clutch it to her chest all the way back to the village.

She told her to send me a message as she got out. “Please tell Mr. Dawes I accept his gift, with reservations. The first money I make as a writer will be used to pay him back.”

“You tell him, girl. You have his address now, drop him a line, say thank you for the gift, and more importantly for the faith he has in you. To know him less than three hours, you have certainly made an impression on the man, certainly more than his exwife did the whole time they were together. He’s still not found anyone yet, says he not looking for a woman, but a soul mate. Put your name at the front of the list. You seem a fine lass, Sisoban. He could do a lot worse.”

Two weeks went by before she sent me the first post, a short missive thanking me for the computer and pledging to repay me. I sent her a longer one, showing her some of the work I had finished, and what I was working on now.

My new project was something totally different for me. I was painting humans, not animals. It was for a close friend of Chelsea. Claire wanted a painting done for her cousin and his wife. They lived in Virginia, on eight hundred acres, right on the edge of the mountains. There was a pretty big hill on the back of the property, and over the years her husband had developed it until it was one of the best sledding areas in the county. They hosted parties for their children and later grandchildern. He’d even installed a modified ski lift, where you sat on your sled and just grabbed a handle when it went by.

They had about twenty sleds on the hill that day, and when they weren’t sledding they were in the little building he’d erected, to warm up, drink hot chocolate, and munch on snacks.

One of the locals was with some friends, drinking moonshine and riding their fourwheelers. They had trespassed onto the farm, and he came roaring out of the woods just as two of his grandchildren hit the bottom of the hill. He was too drunk to react, even though he had time, and he ran right over them, knocking both from the sled, tossing the girl across the slope, and dragging the boy five hundred feet before he came loose. Suddenly nearly sober, the rider kept going at full speed.

The boy was dead when they reached him, and they airlifted the girl to Roanoke, but she passed three days later. Unfortunately for the driver of the fourwheeler, the whole thing was caught on film by one of the parents, who had been at the bottom of the hill, filming them as they whizzed by.

It took the police as long as it took the girl to die to find him, in another state. He’d sold the fourwheeler the day after, for running money. They tracked it down, and it still had blood and one of the boy’s mittens under the running boards. He had so many charges against him he tried for a plea deal, but the county refused. He got almost thirty years once the list of charges were tried individually.

The couple shut the hill down for three years before the grandmother received the DVD. It was from the mother who was filming that fateful day. The police had taken the pictures of the crime off the camera, and had given it back to her. She hadn’t touched it until a month ago, when she scanned it, stopping at one particular frame. It was of the two grandchildren, their scarves flying, the snow spraying, the sled slightly airborne, mouths wide open with the joy only seven and eight year olds could express. The Godmother got hold of it, coming to see me.

She wanted me to paint it, saying with the life I breathed into the animals I did, this would be easy, and she wanted their grandmother to see that look of joy every day for the rest of her life. I refused her three times, until Henry and Chelsea interceded. “Please, Damon. I know this may be the most difficult project you ever undertake, but you may be the only artist on the face of the earth to get the painting perfect.”

I blew the print up to life size, as well as the two before and the one after it, hanging them across one wall of my studio. I studied them carefully for two days, then left, off to paint a Persian cat. Hateful animal, that. I almost painted it with the look it gave me most of the time, pure malice, but I managed to capture a soft side when she sat on the lap of her mistress, purring contentedly.

Ten days later I was back, and the pictures still haunted me. Somehow they wounded me to my soul, maybe because I was at the time of my life I felt I should be a father. The pictures gave me pause. How could I help bring a life into this world when there was no way I could protect them from everything around them?

Sisoban had emailed me twice a month, short missives about village life, and her progress on three stories. I made her promise on the soul of her mother to let me read them, guaranteeing I would paint a cover for her first book.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, always being somewhat of a loner. I didn’t have a life partner I could draw strength from, I even smiled at the thought of Wendy being that emphatic with anyone.

So I poured my soul out to a woman on another continent, that I had met only once for a few brief hours. I even sent her the photo, telling her I couldn’t work up the will to put brush to canvas, terrified I’d never get it right. Her answer surprised me.

“I don’t know you, Damon. You may be a shallow, insensitive clod who just doesn’t want to venture out of his comfort zone.

But I know your paintings. many of them, from the internet. Those animals come to life under your hand. If you can make a pig sparkle, imagine what you could do with this. And the portrait of that child you did of her Christening made me cry. I printed a copy, and it hangs over my computer desk. I use it for inspiration on bad days.

The painting would be a celebration of their lives, cut short as they were. You can give the parents and grandparents the comfort of seeing the look of joy in their eyes for the rest of their lives, and share it with friends or even total strangers.

So do it! Not for you, not for me, not for the parents and grandparents. Do it for them. Celebrate lives that were worth living! Make the joy leap from their eyes for eternity. You have no choice. So, get cracking, love! Send me progress reports, but don’t let me see it until it’s done. Please, Damon. You know you won’t rest until you do.”

It took a long time to finish. Sometimes I just had to walk away for a few days. I worked on other things, just to keep me sane. Finally, I refused any more projects until I could finish what I would later consider to be the two best works of my life.

I finished the portrait, life size, of the brother and sister. I painted the snow as it rose under the runners, turning into sparkles at the top as small flakes reflected the sun, the small tear in the girl’s coat, the smudge of dirt on the boy’s cheek, his mouth open in excitement, showing his missing baby teeth. I painted the girl, her blond braids flying almost straight backwards, as she rode behind her brother, hugging him to her.

I put the last brush strokes on, and walked away for a week. I called Chelsea, asking if she would come over and give an opinion. She agreed immediately, knowing something was happening. I had always refused to let anyone see my work until the client did.

She showed up with her sister-in-law, her closest friend, the one who commissioned the painting. I didn’t say anything, didn’t give a back story, I just gently pulled the drapes, allowing the evening light to hit the portrait.

Their reaction was, well, interesting. Neither moved for a long minute, and then I saw Claire start to tremble. I just barely made it to her before her eyes rolled back and she fainted. Chelsea just stood, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It ... it’s like I could reach out and hug them. Jenny never looked prettier, and Billy looks like the rough and tumble scamp he was. Has Anne seen it yet?” Anne was the grandmother, Claire’s best friend through college, and Claire had been a doting Godmother to these children. Seems the rich in this part of the world, old money anyway, were a pretty tightly knit group.

I got Claire on my couch, with Chelsea cuddling her, went into my little kitchen, and made tea. After putting the service out, I poured the Earl Gray, lemon wedges for Chelsea, cream and sugar for Claire. They sipped, stealing glances at the painting.

“You need to warn Anne, Claire. Her heart isn’t as good as it used to be. She may not be able to take the shock. We need to be sure Dr. Wells is close by, just in case. She’ll light a candle for you every day for the rest of her life, Damon.

Now you listen to me. Your time of painting animals is coming to an end. Who ever sees this painting will want you to recreate something like that for them.”

“I doubt I could do anything ever again on that level, Chelsea. I don’t think I could live with the emotional toll on a daily basis.”

“Nonsense. They won’t all be this emotional. Some will no doubt be lighthearted, but whatever the subject is, you will always amaze them.”

Claire had gotten up while we were talking, looking at the portrait again. I was keeping a pretty close eye on her, but even though she still trembled, she seemed steady. She walked over to another painting I had draped, and reached for the cloth.

“Claire! Please, that one isn’t ready for viewing.”

It was too late, the cloth slid to the floor, and there she was.

Sisoban. When the weight of painting the children got to be too much, I would work on it, to restore order in my mind. She was sitting on the stone wall, feet drawn up, her face in slight profile. One lock of hair was across her cheek, another on the other side of her face off her shoulder a little because of the breeze. You could just catch the beginnings of surprise in her gray eyes. The mottled greens and browns from the trees put tiny shadows here and there on her body, making the sky blue dress stand out, along with the pale red fingernails. The absolutely hardest thing to capture had been her feet, especially her ankles, and the freckles she wore like a mantle on her skin. Again, it was lifesize. It seems I enjoy painting on a grand scale.

Chelsea had gotten up, and was standing beside Claire. They were both smiling, which I took as a good sign. “Who is this?”

“Her name is Sisoban O’Mallory. I met her in Ireland last year, when I was on holiday.”

“Does she know you love her?”

“What are you talking about? I hardly know her. We only talked in person for less than four hours, and I haven’t seen her since. We’ve only contacted each other by email, and that’s been less than twenty times.”

“This is a painting done by a man in love, Damon. Anyone can see it if my old eyes can. What are you going to do about it?”

“I hadn’t thought much about it. When I’m ready to let it go, I’ll ship it to her. I promised she would have it when I was done.”

“You know I’m not talking about the painting. I’m talking about the woman. How long has it been done?”

“About four months.”

“And in four months, you haven’t shipped it. What does that tell you?”

Well, there it was. What did it tell me? I knew I promised, but I just couldn’t seem to let it go. I knew I would, eventually, but right now it was staying. She was my muse in abstentia, someone I could draw inspiration from when I was stumped on a painting, or feeling down. In the privacy of my studio, I sometimes talked to it as if she was there. Off, I know, but artists aren’t known for their stability.

“I’ll contact her soon. I promised to show her the painting of the children, anyway.”

Claire spoke with a firm voice. “I will not allow images of this on the internet. It would cheapen their memory. If it means that much to you for her to see it, it should be done in person, so she can get the full effect.”

“I hardly know the woman. I can’t just ask her to drop everything in her life just to fly to another country on a whim. Besides, she doesn’t have much money, she couldn’t afford to come. Before you snap at me, know that I would send her a first class ticket and put her up at the grandest hotel I could find, if she would accept it.”

Claire and Chelsea exchanged looks, and I knew I was headed for trouble. “Chelsea, Claire, whatever you’re thinking, stop. Chelsea, I’ve come to love you like the grandmother I never had, so for the sake of that feeling leave it alone. Please?”

I think my statement surprised her, and her eyes got moist again. She told me I really needed to do something about the amount of dust in the studio, promised, then they both kisssed my cheek, telling me they would get in touch later, and to not breathe a word to anyone about the portrait. I draped it again after they left, but I left Sisoban as she was. I grinned at her image.

“Be glad you’re on the other side of the pond, my fine Irish sprite, or you would soon be face to face with some very determined old ladies used to getting their way.”

It looked like she was smiling just for me as I closed the doors.

“We are two thoroughly whipped old fools, Clayton.”

“We are indeed, Henry. Would you have it any other way?”

“Absolutely not. But you have to admit, this sets a new standard, even for our wives. Sending us all the way to Ireland to fetch a woman we’ve never met, who doesn’t know we’re coming, with orders for us not to accept no for an answer, tops everything they’ve had us do so far.”

“True, but it’s a grand adventure, is it not?”

“Indeed, now help me think, we need to come up with an offer she can’t refuse.”

Clayton sniffed. “I’m not putting a horse head in anybody’s bed. Maybe we need to stop by and kiss the Blarney Stone. We are probably going to need the extra edge.”

At that exact moment, Sisoban O’Mallory was sitting at her computer, hard at work, until she heard the patter of tiny feet. Her door burst open, and her seven year old daughter rushed in, pulling at her school uniform. “Hi, Mum. We learned a lot at school today. Can I have a snack? Freddie is icky, but he says he loves me. What should I do?”

She grinned at the one love in her life. “What did you learn? Milk and a fresh cookie, just one, all right? Do you like Freddie?”

“A lot, we talked about planets. That would be great. Kinda, I guess. Maybe.”

“Sounds like a little more than a maybe to me, sweetheart.”

The girl was suddenly shy. “He’s cute. Not as cute as your Yank, but Freddie doesn’t have a beard.”

“I have a suggestion. Why don’t you wait until he can grow one, and see how cute he is then? Oh, and he’s not ‘my’ Yank.”

“Auntie Justine says he is.”

“Aunt Justine says a lot of things, and I often wonder how many of them are the truth.”

Justine had taken an interest in Sisoban, delivering the computer, making sure she accepted it. She came and got them on Sisoban’s days off, and doted on little Katelyn. Sisoban often wondered why she didn’t have one or two of her own. She had to admit she looked forward every week to escaping the stark existence they lived. Even working two jobs, it was hard to make ends meet, especially Katelyn’s school fees. But she wanted the best for her daughter, and when a mysterious ‘scholarship’ appeared, she didn’t delve too deeply.

Just then Justine showed up, so she shut down her computer and they went out to meet her. She scooped Katelyn up, kissing her until she squirmed, then kissed her mother. “I have news,” she said, grinning.

“Good news I hope.”

“That depends.”

She wouldn’t say anymore, just teased Katelyn about the new kittens that had arrived, and how much their big hound had missed her. Sisoban loved their farm, the spaces, the woods and meadows Katelyn made them explore. She harbored a secret hope that one day she could afford someting a third this nice, just for Katelyn.

Colin snatched up Katelyn, nuzzling under her shirt and kissing her belly until she laughed. “How’s my favorite practice daughter?”

Katelyn didn’t bat an eye as she tugged his drooping mustache. “I better be your ONLY practice daughter.”

“You are, my little darling, you are.”

Justine and Colin had told Katelyn that she was going to be their practice daughter, so they would have some experience when their own came along, through adoption. They also told her she was expected to perform ‘aunt’ duties, and help guide them as they grew. She was very excited, and one of her first questions every time she saw them was “Found your child yet?”

“Not yet, sweetie, but we’re trying. You’ll be the first to know.”

Justine took her out to look at the kittens while Sissy, as they called Sisoban now, made tea. “I want to tell you a secret. You may not tell Mummy, understand? Good. We are expecting guests tomorrow, two Yanks who have flown a very long way to meet you and your Mum. It’s a surprise, now remember, no telling.”

Justine made a motion like she was zipping her mouth, and Katelyn followed. She had to ask one question, though, one she thought was important.

“Do they know Mummy’s Yank?”

“One does, very well. Remember, not a word.”

Katelyn nodded solemnly. She knew her Mum liked the Yank quite a bit, when he would email her she would smile for days. She liked him too, at least his picture. In her mind she had constructed little fantasies, all with one theme. Mum’s Yank would come, and take them away, to his home in America, where they would live happily every after, and she would have her own room, and he would be her DADDY. She would never tell her Mum, but when the other children at school brought their fathers around, she would go off by herself, and sometimes she would have a good cry. So then, if these Yanks were friends with Mum’s Yank, she would be on her best behavior.

Sissy knew something was up, Justine and her daughter had been passing smiles when they thought no one was looking all evening. She didn’t get to ask, because all too soon it was Katelyn’s bedtime. She was extremely happy they were spending the night, something they did rarely. It meant another day she got to spend in the sunshine, away from the village.

Katie looked like she was going to positively burst the next morning, watching the roadway. Slowly, a car approached, turning into the lane. Two older gentlemen got out, and while one paid the driver the other got their suitcases out of the boot. Justine greeted them with hugs before leading them on to the patio.

“Sisoban, I would like you to meet Henry Wharton and Clayton Moore. Friends from America. This is Sisoban O’Mallory, and this little doll is her daughter Katelyn.”

She shook their hands, wondering at the looks they gave her daughter. They had a light luncheon, and over coffee, they got to the reason for their visit.

“Ms O’Mallory, I believe we have a mutual friend, Damon Dawes.”

She stiffened up, knowing something upsetting was coming. They saw their look and grinned. “Relax, ma’am. He doesn’t know we’re here. He’d probably go ballistic if he did. We are here beacause we are married to two of the finest women to ever walk the earth, and they are quite fond of Damon. They would really like the pleasure of your company for the next two weeks. It’s a milestone in Damon’s life, and they would very much like you to share it with him, and us, of course. I have to tell you, Damon is one of the finest men I know, and I’m sure he would love to have you there. Think about it for awhile, and we’ll talk after dinner.”

Katelyn was on her best behavior, and was soon sitting in Henry Whartons’ lap, telling him all about their lives. “Katelyn! I’m sure Mr. Wharton would like to have his lap back.”

Henry grinned. “To the contrary, Ms O’Mallory. All my grand nieces and nephews are in their late teens, and it’s been quite a while since I got to experience this. Especially with such a pretty little girl.”

Katelyn giggled and gave him a hug, surprising all of them by by kissing his cheek. Henry colored slightly before smiling again. Katelyn looked at her mother with a small smirk.

Soon she had both the older gentlemen following her around the farm, showing them the kittens, introducing them to Bug, the Irish wolfhound. He looked huge beside the little girl, and she was giggling and hugging his neck as his tail wagged furiously. “Know why I call him Bug?”

“Because he likes to eat bugs! Auntie Justine says he’s an Irish wolfhound, but I think he’s an Irish bughound!” She giggled at her own cleverness, and ended up riding on Henry’s shoulder the rest of the walk.

Sisoban had a cold feeling of dread and barely ate at dinner. Justine took Katelyn off to bed, after she had kissed everyone there good night.

“You have a very pretty, well mannered girl there, Ms O’Mallory. Is your husband close by?”

She snorted. “I never had a husband, Mr. Wharton. He ran as soon as he found out I was pregnant. It’s been just her and me her whole life. Now, the suspense is killing me, what are you here for, and how does it involve me?”

“My dear girl, that’s an easy question. We’re here for you. We are under strict orders to bring you home with us.”

She knew something like this was coming, but it was still a shock. “Why?’

“Because whether you know it or not, Damon is infatuated with you. Damon is very dear to our little community. He is a fine young man of principle, and he would never have asked you to America on his own. So, our wives charged us with the task.”

“Again, why? Besides, he doesn’t know I have a child. In my experience, that usually sends any man I try to have a relationship with running.”

“Damon Dawes is not most men, Sissy. You should go.”

She looked at Justine accusingly. “Are you in on this?”

“Only after the fact. Listen Sissy, consider it a vacation, a chance to broaden Katelyn’s world. You might have a good time, and you may even get to know Damon a little better. Do not sell the man short, honey. I’m sure after he meets Katelyn, it will be no time at all that he’ll have a hard time remembering your name.”

Henry got really serious. “Damon, well, Damon has done something extraordinary. There is to be a little event at home, and we really think you shold be there for it. It would mean a lot, to our wives, to us, and especially for Damon.’

He sighed, getting up. “I’m still trying to reset my clock, and I’’m really tired. Please, think about it overnight, give us an answer in the morning. We will defray all expense, all you need to bring is you and your child. Goodnight, all.”

They sat, while Nigel and Justine talked to her about everything. Damon, Katelyn, the opportunity for her to experience a trip of a lifetime, and how much it could mean to her personally. Exhausted, they all gave up, and went to bed.

Sisoban got precious little sleep, wrestling with the situation, before finally drifitng off, her last conscious thoughts of a smiling man with brown curly hair and a beard.

Nigel took Katelyn with him to the village the next morning, leaving the two men, Justine, and Sissy.

“I’ve decided, “ she said suddenly. “I’ll go, but I want a few things before I do. I want round trip tickets with the ability to schedule the return any time I want, no questions asked, and transportation to the airport. If this goes badly, we’ll be leaving quickly.”

“Done!,” said Henry, shaking her hand. “You’ll have the tickets before we board the plane, plus one thousand U.S. dollars, for incidentals. If you say the word, I’ll have you taken directly to the airport, and you can be on the next plane home. Agreed?”

Feeling like she was making a deal with the devil, she nodded.

Katelyn almost didn’t sleep the two days before they left, was enthralled with the plane, and the Irish countryside that flowed beneath them. It wasn’t long, though, after they were over water, that she crashed, snuggling into her mother.

I got a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, every time I looked at Chelsea and Claire. They would smile at me like two cats who had swallowed a canary, and were just too refined to spit the feathers out. They told me their husbands were off on business, and wanted me there for security. I laughed, they had a state of the art security system and guards present, discreetly out of sight. Woe be unto the thief or kidnapper who thought it would be a good idea to invade this farm. I often wondered if a moneyed life was worth all the effort.

I stll don’t know who came up with the plan to introduce me to Katelyn first, but I was sitting on their patio a few days later when a little girl with a riot of red curls came out, watching me feed Chip little pieces of bread. Before him, I didn’t know chipmunks liked bread. He scampered to his hole immediately after seeing the child, because he was not familiar with her.

“What was that?” She asked it in a lilting Irish accent, her smile wide and happy. Freckles were abundant, and I knew almost instantly who she was. Well, we hadn’t shared anything personal, but she was a clone of Sisoban, down to the red hair. I realized now why the ladies were bustling about smiling. Never underestimate the rich when they think they have your best interests at heart.

“That, little Sisoban, is a chipmunk, sometimes called a ground squirrel because they don’t climb.”

“Can you pet him?”

“No, he’s comfortable with people he knows, but if anyone reaches for him, he’s gone.”

She stood beside one of the high chairs, giving me a pointed look. I dutifully stood, picked her up, and deposited her on the chair beside me. “My name’s Katelyn, you know. Sisoban is me Mum.”

“Just so, little sprite. You look almost exactly like her. Is she about?”

She leaned forward, conspiritorially. “She’s in the house. They’re watching to see if you’re going to be mean to me.”

“Why would I be mean to you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Mum’s last boyfriend didn’t like me much. Said I was a bother. Do you think I’m a bother, sir?”

Well, at least she had manners. “I do not. I find you delightful, so far. I hope nothing ever happens to change that impression.”

About that time Chip appeared at the edge of the patio, having assessed Katelyn as nonthreatening. She giggled at the sight of him standing on his hind legs and chirping. Slowly he came closer. I gave her a litle piece of bread. “Go slowly, Katelyn. Let him take it.”

Chip sniffed, decided she meant him no harm, snatched the bread and disappeared back into his home. Katelyn was laughing and clapping her hands. “He likes me!”

“He is a very good judge of character. In fact, every time I meet someone I want to be my friend, I give them the chipmunk test. If Chip likes you, you must be a good person. If he doesn’t like you, it means you probably will never be my friend. I’m glad, little Katelyn, that he likes you. It means I can like you too. Now, I think it’s time for your mother to stop hiding. Why don’t you go fetch her?”

I lifted her out of the chair, placing her gently on the ground, and she ran giggling back into the house, appearing five minutes later, pulling Sisoban behind her. She looked halfway between scared and defiant.

I stood, smiling, seated Katelyn, and pulled back a chair for her mother. “Hello, Miss O’Mallory. It is a pleasure to see you again. Was your trip pleasant?”

She fidgeted just a bit, before calming herself. “Aye, it was. And it’s very nice to see you again.”

That was about all we got before Katelyn decided to dominate the conversation. She told me about her school, her boyfriend, her friends, Justine’s dog, everything under the universe she thought I should know. Sisoban tried to stop her, which made me encourage her more. Finally, Henry came out. “Miss Katelyn, Chelsea and I are off to do evening rounds. Would you like to see our horses?”

Of course she did, and soon they were off, Katelyn between them, holding their hands. I looked at Sisoban and smiled.

“You have a charming daughter, Miss O’Mallory. You and your husband have done a fine job raising her.” She snorted.

“If you’re fishing around about my marital status, let me set you straight. The only contribution the lad who knocked me up made to our lives was a sperm deposit. I’ve raised her on my own.”

“Well then, it appears you are an excellent mother.”

“There are days when Katelyn would disagree with you. You have some very impressive friends, Mr. Dawes.”

“Please, that sounds so formal. Damon will do.”

“Very well, and you may call me Sissy, probationally.”

“Why probationally?”

“Because we don’t know each other. If I feel you’re not worthy of the famliarity, you won’t have to worry about it, because I will be gone.”

I laughed. “I’m auditioning now? Dig if you want, ask around. Everyone will tell you Damon Dawes is an extraordinarily gifted artist, kind to strangers, a supporter of good causes, some even say I’m a saint among mortal men. The ones who really know me will comfirm that I’m the only perfect man they’ve ever encountered, and extremely handsome to boot. If we get close later, I’ll enjoy hearing how right I am about this.”

Her face colored a little and I saw a brief flash of Irish temper in her eyes, but then she smiled.

“Please, Damon, you forgot to explain how modest you were.”

“That would be bad form. How can one trumpet one’s modesty without removing it? Suffice it that you noticed.”

Damon paused, reflecting, before getting serious. “I really am glad to see you, Sissy. It surprised me a little you had a child, but she seems very well adjusted, and extremely sweet. I think perhaps she inherited her mother’s charm and grace. And realistically, we only talked for a few hours, so it never came up in conversation. How is your writing going?”

She perked up. “Slow. I’m still learning. I take every online tutorial I can find, joined a writer’s workshop, and keep slogging. I’ve had two stories placed on free websites, and both were very well received. I’m not Jaime Lee Curtis by any means, but I’m improving.”

“Well then, good on you. I insist you let me read them, give me the link and I’ll look them up. And my promise stands. Even if we never go farther than we are right now, I will still paint your first book cover. All that being said, how long are you staying, and how much time will I get to spend with the two of you? I’ll take every minute you have to spare. I’m between jobs right now, the only thing scheduled for me is a small gathering to reveal my latest work and an interview with a prospective client that should take less than a day. Look, here comes your daughter, and she’s astride one of Henry’s horses.”

Sissy looked up in a bit of a panic. Katey loved animals, and she’d always wanted to ride a horse. She relaxed when she saw Chelsea in the saddle behind her, while Henry had a firm grip on the lead, and the horse was walking sedately. She was impressed with the beauty of the animal, white with small black dots on her shouders and rump. The horse was groomed to the point of shining. Katelyn was holding the reins, concentrating, and she looked like her face was going to split from her smile.

“Mummy, look! I”m riding a real horse. She’s so big! Her full name is Summer Sunshine, but they call her Summer. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Henry halted the animal at the edge of the patio, and Chelsea swung down, reaching up and putting Katelyn gently on the ground. A groom had been following them, and Henry handed him the lead. They watched as he walked her back down the path to the barn.

Katelyn ran to her mother, her face suffused with joy. I almost pulled my camera out, but restrained myself, enjoying the happiness she was feeling. It hit me, suddenly. The joy of the faces on the children I had painted just minutes before their death, the joy Katelyn had now. When did adults lose that ability? When was the last time I had felt pure joy?

Then I looked at Sisoban and Katelyn and grinned. Maybe what I felt this instance was about as close as an adult could come. If so, it would do. It would do very well.

Sisoban chose that exact moment to look at me, smiling, questions in her eyes. We would talk, later.

Katelyn ran to me after her moment with her mother. “Did you see? Did you see? A real horse!”

“A very pretty horse, ridden by a very pretty girl. I saw, Katelyn.”

Katelyn blushed suddenly, but the smile quickly blossomed again. “Do you think Mummy’s pretty?”

“Of course. How could such a beautiful daughter not come from a beautiful mother?”

She clapped her hand and giggled, and it was Sisoban’s time to flush. Chelsea actually giggled along, and Henry chuckled, while the smile returned to her face. She put her hands over Katelyn’s ears and said something in Gaelic.

“What?”

“I’ll translate later, out of range of little ears.” Her smirk probably mean it wasn’t a compliment.

We had dinner on the patio. I could tell Sisoban was not used to being served, and she kind of hovered over Katelyn. It wasn’t necessary, it was apparent she had taught her well. Then, instead of television, they lit the firepit, and we sat around, talking about everything. Chelsea deliberately kept Katelyn in the conversation, but she soon got bored, and entertained herself by rotating around the pit, sitting in everyone’s lap. She ended up on mine, and sleepily played with my hair.

My hair was a pet peeve of Chelsea’s, she did not like it long, at all. I believe if she could have gotten away with it, she would have had the guards restrain me while her hairdresser gave me a new do. I did make her happy by promising I would clean up for the unveiling the following weekend. I felt Katelyn’s hand fall, and looked down to see her sound asleep, snuggled in comfortably. It was not an unpleasant feeling. I idly stroked her locks while we talked, not even realizing it. Everyone else on the patio did.

Another half hour passed, and Sisoban stood, saying it was time to put her daughter to bed. “Come along, Damon. She seems comfortable enough, carry her, please?”

Like I was going to refuse? She had the guesthouse while I stayed in the main house. I lay her on the bed she had chosen, ruffling her hair gently as I stood. “Leave her. I’ll get her into her pajamas later.”

Then she surprised me. “Think you’ll be a good father?”

“I don’t know,” I told her honestly, “I have no experience. I’d like to find out, sometime down the road.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be more than adequate. I’ve never see Katie take up with a man like she has you.”

“She’s a little princess. If her charm grows as she does, the boys will take one look into her eyes and fall in love. You might not get a lot of sleep when she hits her teens.”

There was unexpeced steel in her voice. “Aye. That I will. She’ll no end up like me.’’ I had noticed when something was important or upsetting to her, her Irish got more basic.

“I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. She’s a clone of you, so I think when she grows she’ll inherit your character and strength. Is that so difficult to accept?”

She took my hand, holding it for a minute, before realizing and letting go like it was on fire. Then she grinned. “I need to remember to speak to Parliment when I return home, see if I can get a law enacted that bans foreigners from kissing the Blarney Stone. You’d have made a fine Irishman, Damon.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can be trained. Care to tutor me?”

“I’ll take that under advisement. Good Night, Damon.”

Henry just grinned when I returned. Chelsea was all over me.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Damon. It doesn’t suit you. What do you think about your Irish enchantress, now that you’ve actually held a conversation without alcohol being involved?”

“I think the same thing I thought while I was in Ireland. She’s a beautiful woman, Chelsea. With an even more beautiful daughter, if that’s possible. And it’s apparent she has intelligence, and is an excellent mother. I’d love to get a chance to really know her if I could.”

“Well then, “ she said, brushing my cheek, “you leave that part to me.”

“Chelsea, behave. Don’t try to force anything. It might end badly, and I’d like to not screw this up.”

“I assure you, honey, I would never interfere.”

“You know you can go to hell for lying, right?”

“Well then, I must do good works and live the life of the righteous, to redeem myself. I’ll start right after she returns to Ireland.” I could have sworn she said under her breath, “maybe.”

Henry just grinned, and I knew I’d have to watch him as closely as Chelsea. I bade them goodnight, and went to my room, lying awake, thinking, until it made my head hurt and I went to sleep.

Regardless of when I went to bed, I always got up early. If you paint animals, it’s best if you can capture them early in the morning, as most are on the same sleep cycle as humans.

The exception is cats, but I’m not exactly sure they’re a native species. I suspect an alien race got fed up and dumped them all on Earth while we weren’t paying attention. It was probably a huge joke to them, and I bet they’ve laughed for thousands of years over it. Cats, meanwhile, remain really pissed about it to this day, and vent their displeasure by torturing the locals.

I was on my way to the barn when I developed a little shadow. “Good morning, Katelyn.”

“Will you call me Katie, please?”

“As you wish, although I find Katelyn kind of exotic. I’ve never actually known a Katelyn before.”

“Really? Exotic? What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means rare, special, and beautiful.”

That seemed to delight her. “Ok. Call me Katelyn.”

“As you wish, although you could probably carry the title Fairy Princess just as easily.”

I didn’t notice, but she had stopped. When I turned, she had an odd look on her face.

“That’s what Mummy says.” It was almost a whisper.

I smiled and picked her up. “Well then, there’s probably something to it. Where is your Mummy, anyway?” In my mind, I was posing Katelyn, wearing a sky blue dress, a crown of flowers on her red curls, gossamer wings arching behind her. I knew then I was going to have to get a few pictures of her.

“She’s with Aunt Chelsea. They saw you through the window and told me I could walk with you, if you didn’t mind. May I?”

“Yes you may. When do I need to get you back?”

“When you’re done. Aunt Chelsea is going to take Mummy shopping, ands she said to tell you it may be a while, and I’m to have my lunch at twelve, and maybe a nap afterwards.”

Well then, it looked like my day was planned. It was only 8:30. “I have found life easier if you always obey Aunt Chelsea. She can be quite cross if she’s not. Now then, I was going to see the horses, is that all right?”

Well, of course that was all right. The child practically ran me ragged wanting to walk the whole farm, all four hundred sixty acres. I compromised, and took her to my all time favorite spot. We had to follow a stream through the woods, until we found a pool formed by an eight foot waterfall. Not much of a falls, but she was impressed.

She took off her shoes, and I let her wade in the shallow end, watching her like a hawk, in between gathering some of the wildflowers that grew there in profusion. Mom taught me how to weave headbands of flower stems, and I fashioned one while she played. The look of joy on her face was more than worth the small amount of time it took to make it. Not having a mirror, she looked into the pool. The sun was slanting just right to show her reflection clearly. I gave in to temptation, and snapped five quick pictures.

She smiled at me, then sat down and wriggled back into a moss covered bolder, closing her eyes sleepily. I took another six shots before I told her it was time for lunch. Halfway back she tired out, and I carried her across the meadows home. She was asleep before a dozen steps. Her arms were around my neck, her face nestled under my chin. I wondered as I walked what made Sisoban trust an almost total stranger alone with her daughter. I would have been freaking out all over the place.

They were sitting on the patio, Chelsea wearing that canary smile again. I couldn’t decipher the look on Sisoban’s face, other that it wasn’t anger, which I took to be a good thing. I gently placed her in Mum’s lap, and she immediately snuggled in, mumbling something in her sleep.

“Where have you been? We were starting to get worried.”

I grinned at Chelsea. “She wanted to walk, so I took her on a ramble. I think she wore both of us out. I could use a nap myself.”

She stirred while we talking, yawning wide and rubbing her eyes. She noticed whose lap she was on and immediately started talking. “Mummy! We saw the horses and the dogs and the chickens and we took a walk and went to a waterfall and I went swimming and he made me a ring of flowers. Aren’t I pretty in them? He said it made me look like a Princess!”

She was smiling along until she said ‘swimming’, but I grinned and put my hand just past her little ankle. “That’s as wet as she got. However, she does want to spend time in the pool and play under the waterfall. I hope you bought bathing suits.”

Chelsea smiled that canary smile again, and I was sure if they didn’t have bathing suits before, they would by the morning. I asked if they enjoyed their shopping excursion. Chelsea waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, we found a few things. You did remember to pack a nice suit, didn’t you? I’d hate to present you to Claires’ family in jeans and a paint stained sweatshirt.”

“I have it on good authority I can pull off looking like a respectable member of the community fairly well. I even have a killer tie picked out. A really attractive hula dancer.”

“Don’t bother,” Chelsea said, not even trying to get the smirk off her face. “I picked up one for you while we were out. Humor an old lady and wear it?”

“And if I refuse?”

“You’d hurt the tender feelings of an old lady who only wants what’s best for you?”

“Maybe.”

Sisoban was watching the verbal sparring match, enjoying it quite a bit. Chelsea sighed. “This is one of the reasons I keep him around, dear. He’s the only one who has the nerve to actually say no to me. At least the first time I ask.”

Katelyn, not really understanding what was going on, had picked up on the word ‘swimming’. “When can we go? Can we have a picnic? Will you make me another band of flowers?”

“Are you related to Chelsea? Yes, Yes, and yes, if your Mum agrees. It cannot be tomorrow, though, I have something I have to do, and I’ll be busy all day.”

The whole table frowned at me. “What? As thrilled as I am to have Sisoban and Katelyn here, it was a surprise, and I still have to make a living. I have an appointment I cannot break, and it will take most of the day. I ‘m sure you can find ways to amuse yourselves, plotting and conspiring against me should consume most of your time anyway. In fact, I need to make some calls and update my schedule so if you will excuse me, I’ll see you all at dinner.”

I didn’t lie, but what I had to do took very little time. The rest of the afternoon was spent napping and thinking. A little napping and a lot of thinking.

Dinner was a little subdued but pleasant. Katelyn had made me a pencil sketch of the waterfall, and I was surprised at how good it was. I promised that before she left they could visit my house, so she could see my studio. I told her I’d set an easel up and let her paint something, if her mother allowed. Sissy seemed a little reluctant, but agreed.

After dinner, and Katelyn was in bed, she brought a bottle of wine and joined me on the patio. “Don’t get Katelyn too fond of you, it will be that much harder when we leave.”

Well, right to the point then. I pulled the cork and poured the wine. If it came from Henry’s cellar, there was a good chance we would be sipping a very expensive wine. I realized I had a little resentment about the whole situation.

“Let me ask you something. You show up unannounced, and pretty much thrust your child into the care of what amounts to a total stranger for most of a day. Then you show concern about how well we’ve bonded? Your daughter is a very beautiful, very smart child. She also seems to crave a male presence in her life. And surprisingly, I really like her. So you’ve already screwed that one up. We’ve already bonded. However, if you want me to keep a distance I will. AFTER I fulfill my promise of taking her swimming. I for one do not give promises lightly, especially to children. When you’re that age and hear ‘I promise’, it’s the same as being written in stone. And realistically, you’re only here for what, twelve more days? When this vacation is over you have to go back home, and we may not see each other again. That, I have to say, is not what I want. I’d like to get to know you better. I know you felt the spark the first time we met. I’d like to see if we can fan it into flames. But I have to warn you, one of my less appealing qualities is I can be a bit stubborn on occasions, even when I’m being pushed to do something I want to do anyway. My sister Maddy says it’s easier to push a log chain up a mountain than to push me into something. I know a lot of why you’re here is Chelsea, and while I love her like the grandmother she has a bit of an entitlement problem. One of the pitfalls of the very rich. So, can we hit reset, and have a pleasant conversation, get to really know each other a little better?”

Conflicting emotions went across her face, and then she suddenly smiled, her perfect lips curving deliciously. “You’re right. I do apologize for today, I’m a bit weaker willed than you are, and frankly, Chelsea just rolled right over me. I must say, though, that you have officially achieved hero status with my daughter. She has very little experience with adult males, and you’ve made quite the impression.

Now that that’s out of the way, tell me about the fabulous painting that will be unveiled next weekend. Chelsea sats it will move you to tears, especially if you know the back story.”

“Sorry, Sissy. I’m under the strictest of orders not to talk about it. I wll tell you this. It’s one of the two best things I’ve ever done. The painting is boxed for travel, so you won’t see it before then. And don’t judge it too harshly, I’m afraid Chelsea and Claire see it through the eyes of love, while others may not. I’ve got a few more things you can look at, when you visit. Make sure you bring old clothes for Katelyn, painting is not the neatest of pursuits.”

I realized that night just as I was about to go to sleep that they had no old clothes. Oh well, I hoped the sentiment counted.

“You’d really let her paint?”

“I promised, Sissy. You need to remember what I said about promises, and they hold as true for adults. So, should I ever promise you something, you can believe it. In fact, I need to make you a promise right now.”

“What promise would that be?”

I held my right hand up, and put my left over my heart. “I pormise, Sissy O’Mallory, that I will not ogle you too much when I see you in a bathing suit. I will do my utmost to restrain myself when I see those enticing legs for the very first time, or your creamy shoulders, covered with the constellations of many galaxies. I will do my utmost not to drool in the presence of your daughter, I would not like to scar her tender heart with such a vulgar display.”

Her eyes twinkling. “Well then, I will make a few promises to you. I will hold my teasing down to a minimum when I show off my suit, but be warned, there may be a few ‘wardrobe malfuctions’. I may accidentally forget to retie my top, for instance. One never knows. Now, you said the painting was one of the best two you’ve ever done. What is the other? May I see it?”

I was still trying to get over visions of Sissy in bikinis with untied strings, so it took me a second to answer.

“Yes, you will see it, soon. In the meantime, let it remain a mystery. More wine?”

I topped her glass and mine, sitting beside her on the wicker loveseat. She sighed, relaxing against my shoulder. I inhaled her scent, trying to commit it to memory. I’d taken her hand, and idly brought it to my lips, kisisng it, relishing her taste, when her other hand snaked around my neck, pulling me down. She was a goddess in the moonlight, and I knew once I tasted those lips, I would be as lost as any sailor who’d heard a siren’s song. I couldn’t wait.

Just as our lips made contact, I heard a slight sound. “Mummy! Were you kissing Mr. Damon?”

Sissy sat bolt upright, smoothing her clothes and sputtering. I put my fingers to her lips gently, before turning around. “Yes she was, baby. It was a goodnight kiss, she said she couldn’t stay away from the angel on her bed too long, or she’d float up to Heaven.”

She looked back and forth a few times before grinning, and climbed up between us and snuggling down. “Good! People who like each other should kiss good night. I get them from Auntie Justine and Uncle Nigel, from Aunt Chelsea and Uncle Henry, and from Mummy, every night. Do I get a goodnight kiss from you?”

“Absolutely! I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t.”

She giggled and squirmed higher, kissing her mother, then me, before pushing our heads together for a threeway kiss, laughing like mad as she covered our faces. I couldn’t help it, leaned back a little, crying out, “Puppy Kisses!”, and licking their cheeks, managing to hit Sissy’s mouth, and sliding my tongue across her teeth. They pulled back, sputtering.

“Ohh! That was gross!”

“Then I wasn’t doing it right, little Princess. Shall I try again?”

Sisoban held up her hand. “Not tonight. Now we have to wash our faces before we sleep. Good night, Damon.”

“Good night, my Queen.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m a queen?”

“Are you not the mother of the Princess? Mothers of princesses are addressed as queen, are they not? I believe the proper way to show respect to a Queen is to kiss her hand.”

I still held her hand, so I raised it and gave a gentle kiss. Maybe I lingered a little longer than necessary, but she didn’t complain. I turned to Kaitlyn. “How about you, little Princess. May I kiss your hand?”

She giggled again and let me lift her hand. I gave it the same gentle kiss I gave her mother’s. Then, holding it tight, I slid my tongue up her hand to her elbow. “Mum! He gave me a big puppy kiss! Yuck!”

Sisoban looked me in the eyes, a slight smile on her face. “Oh, honey, puppy kisses can sometimes be quite pleasant, if they’re applied to the right areas. Now come along, we need to be in bed. Good night, Damon.”

I sat there in the moonlight for a few minutes, thinking. Then I thought about her last comment. I would have to explore that, find just the right areas, and apply my tongue to them, as often as she would allow.

I managed to have breakfast with them the next morning before I left. Mother and daughter seemed a little sad I was leaving, but I gave Katelyn a little kiss. She put her little hands on my chest first. “No puppy kiss!”

I dutifully obeyed, gave her a little peck on the cheek, and put her down. “You have to kiss all the girls,” she instructed, a serious look on her face.

“I hear and obey, little Princess.” I bent down and gave Chelsea a kiss on the cheek, and was going to do the same to Sisoban, but she turned at the last second and our lips met. I felt it, the beam of pleasure that shot through me. I wondered, did she feel the same? She still had her eyes closed when I pulled back, and I decided it was a good sign.

“Have a good day, ladies.”

Chelsea smiled. “Oh, we intend to. The girls have to get swimsuits, and that means more shopping. Remember your promise, Damon. You have a picnic to attend tomorrow.”

As I drove, I pictured Sisoban in every type of swimsuit I’d ever encountered, from chaste one pieces to daring bikinis, even thongs. It did not help my driving any.

The prospective client I was meeting was an internet genius who had invented some kind of app for business that made him very rich. Four hundred million worth of rich. I had learned in my short career that most who become rich very suddenly have no idea how to handle it. There are a few that get good advice and follow it, and the rest just flounder around, usually wasting money on foolish pleasures. Some go broke before they learn to control themselves, while others wake up and realize how dangerous the path they’re on can be.

My client definitely fell into the foolish category. His house was a sprawling insult to good architecture, fourteen thousand feet of mostly wasted space. His personality can best be described as abrasive. he was so used to the toadies he surrounded himself with he had no idea how to deal with people who weren’t impressed.

His wife was another example of excess, a blond with some obvious ‘enhancements’, a cold look in her eyes. I took one look and hoped he had a good prenupt, he was probably going to need it in the not so distance future. She wanted me to paint her dog, some breed that looked like a glorified rat, an ill tempered little beast that obviously had never been trained. It even wet one of his expensive Persian rugs while I was there.

I had already decided I was not going to do it, and tried to let them down gently. The wife went into a mini-rant, demanding I do it, and she needed it done within the next six weeks, so she could show it off at an upcoming dinner party.

“I’m sorry, even if I agree to do it, I’m booked for the next eighteen months, maybe two years. I suggest you get another artist if time is an issue.”

“It has to be you! I’ve already told my friends you were doing it! Honey, throw enough money at him to get him to agree.”

He buckled under her tirade. “Look, I’ll make it worth the trouble to shift your assignments. Name a price and I’ll transfer the money immediately.”

I felt bad for the guy, but not much.

“I’m sorry, but I take my committments seriously. I will not jeapordize my reputation as a businessman or an artist on the whims of your wife. Actually, I don’t think I can take your commission, but thank you for thinking of me. There are several other artists with good reputations, any one of them would do an excellent job. I can give you references, if you like.”

They really, really weren’t used to being told no. The wife shrilled and the man pleaded as we walked to my car. “I’ll have Mikey ruin you! You’ll be blacklisted. You know what that means?”

I grinned at the wife. “Let me guess. I’ll never work in this town again? Grow up! I hate to tell you, but you guys aren’t the only ones in this world with money. Most of the people I work with could buy and sell you with what they make in a week. You seriously think I’m going to offend those people? I hope you resolve your dilemma, but you’ll have a hell of a time getting any established artist to complete it in the timeframe you require. Have a nice day. It was ... interesting, meeting you.”

She was still ranting when I pulled away, as her husband looked down. Sucks to be him, worth four hundred million and miserable. Maybe the next wife will be better.

It was well past dark when I returned. I had stopped for dinner, so I just said my hellos to Henry, the only one up, and headed off to bed. I hadn’t been there fifteen minutes before Sisoban was at the door, looking pissed.

“You weren’t going to at least say hello?”

Why was she so angry? “Sissy, it’s ten o’clock. I figured you would be in bed, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Well, you have. Now get your arse over, Katelyn woke and she wants a goodnight kiss. For that matter, so do I. Now come along.”

I just stood there while she waited. Finally, as the silence stretched, she snapped. “What?”

“I haven’t heard the magic word. I’m not your minion, Sissy. I require a modicum of respect before I agree to anything. Something you might want to remember.”

Suddenly, I saw indecision on her face. She surprised me by apologizing. “I’m sorry, Damon. I think you’ve got us kind of spoiled. We’re just used to you doing whatever we want. I’ll watch myself in the future, but you’re on your own with Katelyn. Now, will you please come say goodnight to her?”

“It would be the shining moment in a pretty abysmal day. And don’t think for a minute you don’t owe me a kiss as well.”

She smiled as she took my arm. “I didn’t forget. Now, Katelyn is waiting. it was all I could do to get her to bed. She even wanted to wear her new swimsuit, so she would be ready. You didn’t forget, did you?”

“In all honesty, I’ve thought of little else. My imagination has run wild, thinking of you in different suits. You rock a thong, by the way.”

I was kind of shocked when she grinned. “Yes I do. But don’t expect that tomorrow.”

I was kind of distracted after that, until I realized I was in the guest house, in Katelyn’s bedroom. She was sitting up, waiting.

“Mr. Damon! I can’t wait to go swimming tomorrow. You’re still going to take us, right?’

“Absolutely, baby. Now, you have to sleep, and so do I, but I won’t be able to until I get a goodnight kiss from a Princess.”

She crawled up in my arms, kissing my cheek, and I returned the favor. She had me tuck her in, and was almost instantly asleep. Sissy walked me to the door.

“Thank you, Damon. Now, I claim my kiss.”

She pulled me down, and the kiss was exactly what I wanted it to be. Soft, yeilding, but firm. I don’t know how long we held it, but it was positively not long enough. I couldn’t resist as she snuggled, licking my way slowly up her neck. When I got to her mouth she surprised me by sucking my tongue into it. Hard. I went with it though, and we tongue wrestled for a few minutes, before she broke it off, her breath coming in short gasps.

“That was ... that was...”

I kissed her again, without tongue. I kissed the top of her head before letting go.

“I’ll tell you what that was. That was perfect. I’ve only imagined kisses like that before. Goodnight, Sissy.”

She murmurred something in Gaelic.

“What?”

“You really need to learn the language, honey. Good night.”

It took me a long time to sleep once I got into my bed. Alone. I drifted off thinking about flame haired goddesses and red haired fairies.

I think Katelyn wore the pavers on the patio out the next morning, waiting for it to be warm enough. Finally, at ten, we started for the waterfall. Katelyn had on shorts and sneakers over her bathing suit, a cute little one piece in a shimmering blue, and Sissy wore simple jean shorts and a tee. I carried a large picnic basket and a small cooler, Sissy carried a bag of towels, smiling at both of us as we walked. At one point, where the trail was wide enough, we all held hands. Katelyn just dropped back until she was between us, and it just seemed natural. I think we were all disappointed when the trail got narrower, but she went ahead, looked back and grinned. Sissy had grabbed my hand, and held it until we got there.

Katelyn wanted to go in the water immediately, and stood impatiently as I ran a line between two trees. They both wondered what it was for, but when I pulled off my shirt and draped it over, they grinned.

“I’m a bit of a neat freak, girls, and I can’t stand sand in my clothes.”

Katelyn shimmied out of her shorts, handing them to me. I hung them carefully, turning just in time to see Sissy pulling the tee over her head. Her breasts were bigger than I thought, restrained by a modest top. I did note it was held up by strings. She grinned and tossed me her shirt. “Hang this up, and don’t turn around until I tell you to. There is no graceful way to get out of these shorts, and I DO NOT want you watching me, understand?”

Boy, it was really hard to not turn around, but Katelyn was grinning, watching me, promising Mum she’d tell if I started to move.

“You can turn now.” I did, just in time to get her shorts in my face. The bottom was modest, but was high on the sides, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of toned cheeks. She must have known what I was thinking, because she bent at the waist, giving me an eyeful as she picked up the bag.

“We’ll just spread them out now,” she said, as she fluffled the towels, laying three of them out, against each other.

I took Katelyn’s hand, and we waded in. She had told me she was taking swimming lessons and could do pretty well, so when we were knee deep I grabbed her, tossing her high in the air and deeper into the pool. It was only about four feet at the deepest, so I knew she was safe. Besides, I was right there with her.

Her scream was cut short when she hit the water, but had changed to a laugh when she bounced to the top. “Do it again!”

I spent about thirty minutes tossing her, trying to get as much height as possible. Finally she tired, and swam lazily around the pool. She had brought a mask, and used it, exploring the depths of the pool, bringing up rocks she found interesting.

Sissoban had stayed on the bank the whole time, watching with a grin. Katelyn finally noticed she wasn’t with us.

“Mummy! Come in! It feels really nice.”

“All right honey. Just for a little while. I don’t want to get my suit wet, so no dunking. Understand me, Damon?”

“I hear you. Let me hold your hand, these rocks can be slick.”

She eyed me warily, but walked out to her knees. I don’t know if it was because the water was cool or if holding my hand did it, but her nipples were rock hard. She noticed where I was looking, reached up to cover them, then grinned, dropping her arms.

“Like what you see?”

“Very much, and I’m not talking about the obvious. I like the whole package. Kiss?”

She hesitantly came into my arms. I had seen Katelyn circling around behind her, and I knew what she was about to do. Just as soon as I took her in my arms, she rose out of the water with a splash, shoving her mother. I pretended to lose balance, and as soon as she shoved, I fell straight back with her still in my arms.

She was struggling like a widcat, so I let go. She came up sputtering, blood in her eye. I grinned while Katelyn giggled. She rose to her full height. “Katelyn Anna O’Mallory! I’m...” I shoved her again, and Katelyn was on her when she came back up. She struggled until I jumped in, wrapping both in my arms and rolling. Soon her anger was over, and she was giggling and splashing as hard as her daughter. Katelyn stopped, and stared at her mother.

“What?,” she said, looking back at her.

“Mummy, your ... your...”

“I think what she’s trying to tell you, sweetie, is you’re having that wardrobe malfucntion you talked about.”

She looked down, flaming red. One of the ties on the top had come undone, and one breast was free. She started to tie it back up but grinned instead, untying the other string, tossing the top on a blanket.

“I’m European, honey. This is how most of us look when we go to the beach. Does it offend you?”

“Not in the least. Perhaps I’ll relocate. Think I could find work in, say, the south of France?”

She went from a smile to a frown in the blink of her eye. “I think you could find work anywhere. But I think it’s for the best you stay here. I’d hate for temptation to keep you from working.”

“Seriously? You don’t think I’m tempted now?”

“You’d better be.”

Katelyn was trying to listen as she untied her top, rolling it down to her waist. “Come on, Mummy, let’s play.”

The spell was broken, and we paddled around, drifting under the waterfall, laughing as the spray hit us. They had no idea how tempted I was to get out the camera, but it was imprinted on my memory. One mental picture I had that I definitely wanted to paint was of them both as they floated by, Katelyn draped across Sissy, her red hair spilling around her Mother’s chest, with just one nipple showing. The love flowing between them was so obvious it hurt me, wondering if I’d ever experience a depth of committment that strong.

Reluctantly, we got out of the water. Katelyn tied her top up and Sissy donned her tee shirt, and we inhaled the picnic, pulling pieces of the roast chicken off with our hands, sharing bits with each other until our hands and faces were covered in chicken fat, enjoying the potato salad and hard rolls that accompanied the chicken. We had a bottle of wine, but stuck to water, in deference to Katie. She had finally decided Katelyn should be reserved for special occasions.

Sisoban had rubbed tanning lotion on Katie, and I had blown up a float, and she insisted on floating around in the pool after being told she couldn’t go right back in the water. She was asleep in minutes, and I tied the raft up after pulling her almost completely out of the water.

I grinned at Sissy, holding up the lotion and shaking the bottle. “Lotion up, Sissy. I wouldn’t want you burned two days before the big unveiling.”

She smiled that wicked smile of hers, sitting up and casually tossing her tee. “Do it for me, darling?”

I was shaking like a leaf on a tree at the thought of actually touching this angel. I started out with her arms, moving slowly to stop the trembling. Then I did her back, ad the back of her legs, as far up as I felt comfortable with. While I was gently rubbing her shoulders she rolled over, grinning. “Do the rest of me. If you miss a spot and I get burned, it will mean snuggle time will be over until I recover, so do a good job.”

I rubber her shoulders, skipping her breasts and gently spreading the lotion on her tummy. She sighed and wriggled a little. “All of me Damon, and do a good job.”

I worked my hands down her legs to her feet, admiring her dianty ankles yet again. She reached down, squirted a dollop of lotion on my hand, and put it on her breast. It felt incredible. Full, soft, firm, her nipple straining against my finger. I tweaked it a little and she moaned, pushing up. I lotioned and massaged the other until she was almost panting, before she took my hands away.

“One more spot, and we’re done.”

She rolled back over, gripped her bottoms and pulled until it looked like she really had a thong on. “Do my bottom, hon, I tend to burn there if it’s not completely covered.” I slowly, gently, rubbed every square inch of her incredible rump, noticing the firmness of the muscles under the soft skin. The girl must work out. I strayed a little too close to the gates of heaven a couple of times, and she gently moved my hand away. After about three minutes, she moved my hand, snapped her bottom back in place, rolled over and grabbed he, pulling me on top.

“Time for a quick snog, before Katie wakes.” We must have kissed for five minutes, our hands moving and exploring. Only the presence of her daughter held us in check, and when I glanced up and saw her start to move, I rolled away.

Katie sat up, yawned, saw us pretending to be asleep, cupped her hands and splashed us with water. Water that felt pretty cold after basking in the sun. Sissy shrieked and I growled, moving for her. Her eyes got big and she tried to run, but I was on her too quick, once again tossing her into the deep part. Her own shriek cut of midway, as she hit the water. We splashed around for about another hour before we called it a day. We weren’t halfway back before Katelyn held her hands up to me. She was asleep in my arms almost instantly.

Chelsea was standing on the patio, hand shading her eyes, as we returned. I lay Katie on the cushioned loveset. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, As good a time as one can have with most of their clothes on.”

Chelsea looked confused. “Most of your clothes?”

Sissy colored while I explained. “Yes, most of them. We had on bathing suits, remember. Some of us were more covered than others, but we all had a good time.”

She looked back and forth at us for a minute before a slow smile appeared on her lips. “Well, regardless of your state of dress, I’m glad you had a good time. Damon, be a dear, and carry your ch ... er, Katie to the bedroom so she can finish her nap. Don’t let her sleep too long, Sissy. We have guests for dinner tonight, and I’m sure they’re keen to meet you two.”

This was the first I heard about guests, and I looked at her suspiciously. She smiled, patted my cheek as she left, and admonished me to wear a suit.

I smiled when I saw our guests for the evening. Willis and Carol Higgins, Joe Banks and his wife Sunny, along with their children, two very close to Katelyn’s age. Willis was the writer, and Joe was his agent. Their wives were fast friends They did not know the Whartons, but when Chelsea called and mentioned my name, they came.

Katie was a little doll, well mannered, articulate, and modest, at least until dinner ended. Then she and the other children went outside to chase fireflies. We dutifully followed along, sitting under the cintronella torches on the patio, watching them run and shout, sounds of joy that put a smile on all our faces.

Willis had engaged Sisoban in conversation. Seems Chelsea told him she was an aspiring writer. I worried, hoping she wasn’t pushing her too fast. I hadn’t even read her work, she wouldn’t let me see it yet. She knew instantly who he was, though, and after her initial fright they chatted like old friends, as she asked him a multitude of questions, Joe jumping in from time to time to clarify a business point.

The wives, seeing they were going to talk shop, centered on me.

“She’s beautiful. You must be very proud of your daughter.”

Chelsea laughed. “He is, even though it’s not his child. Yet.”

Carol looked thoughtful. “I’m sorry, I just assumed by your interactions she was your daughter, and Sissy was your wife. You’ve got that married vibe thing going. Are you serious?”

“We’re not that far along yet. I will tell you that what little time I’ve spent with them has been very enjoyable, and I definitely want more, but as to where it’s going, I can’t tell. I can think of several outcomes I’d like to see, though, but much of it depends on her.”

Chelsea was rocking and listening, and she smiled. “I have no doubt that she finds him equally attractive. I foresee good things in their future.”

I laughed a little. “Don’t listen to her. I bet she’s already got our wedding date picked out, and the venue.”

Chelsea didn’t stop rocking. “Mid-September, here. The leaves are peaking just about then, and it’s not too cold for an outdoor wedding. I’ve got everything settled but the caterer.”

The women and Henry laughed, but I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t kidding.

“I need to act fast, then. She goes back to Ireland in nine days, so I must woo her to the best of my ability. Chelsea has reminded me many times it’s not nice to hurt the tender feelings of such a retiring old woman.”

That brought a full laugh from all of them. Chelsea was legendary for being determined and single minded when she wanted something. Sissy and the men looked up, and I flashed her a smile. She smiled back, her whole face lighting up, and went back to her conversation.

Later that night, after we got Katie cleaned up and I read her a bedtime story, we sat on the sofa in the guest house. I asked he if she had a pleasant evening. She was glowing with happiness. “The best. I spent almost the entire evening talking to a world famous author and one of the best agents in the industry. I learned more this evening than all the workshops I took rolled into one. Thank you for speaking so highly of me, and making me follow my dream. They’re going to read four of my stories and offer me pointers. You can’t buy mentorship like that. Thank you, Damon.”

“It wasn’t so much me. I did mention you to Willis, but the rest was all Chelsea. I’m glad you had a good time. I hope something good will come of it.”

Her smile suddenly faded. “Oh my God! It just occurred to me I’ve ignored you all night. What must you think of me?”

“I think very highly of you, and you’re not here solely for my amusement. I’m glad Chelsea engineered the evening.”

She slid closer to me, pulling my arm over her shoulder. “Before I forget, have I told you how stunning you look tonight? Where did you get that dress? And Katelyn looked like a little doll. I believe Willis’s son was in love before we left the table.”

Her dress made conversation stop when she entered the dining room. The dress was modest but form fitting, a burgundy so dark it was almost black, and her modest heels matched. Her hair was in a French braid, a single strand of dark pearls glittering against her peaches and cream complextion. Katie had on a dress in the same color, a frillier, little girl smock that made her adorable, a golden locket contrasting against the dark color. It made me inordinantly proud of both.

She snuggled tighter to me. “Yes you have, but you have full permission to repeat it as often as you like.”

She had tucked her feet under her on the sofa, making it easier to snuggle. I was absently stroking her arm, reveling in the closeness. “Well, I’m not a writer, so let me think for a minute. If you appeared on the beach in front of the fortress holding Helen of Troy, she would hide at the sight of you. Ajax and Achilles would forget what the fuss was about, and leave.

If you appeared in Paris at the court of Marie Antoinette, she would have you beheaded to avoid being put to shame, no longer the most beautiful woman in France. If Venus, rising from the depths, saw you, she would turn back around. If...”

She put her hands to my lips. “If you’d stop talking, I could kiss you.”

I stopped talking.

The kisses started out gently, but progressively stronger over the next few minutes. Hands wandered, finding interesting things to fondle and grip. I think it’s safe to say we got to know each other as intimately as possible and still keep our clothes on. We finally separated, each a little breathless. She snuggled back under my arm, sighing.

“What’s happening?”

“Very good things, I hope. Look, I know this is happening really fast, and I know we’re being pushed a little, but you have to know I was captivated the first time I saw you. I for one think we should spend as much as the time you have left together, just to see if what we feel deepens. And, when you leave, just know that I have a very flexible schedule, and I forsee a lot of frequent flyer miles accumulating in the near future.”

I could see her smile in the muted light of the one lamp we’d left on. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“What do you know about me? I paint pictures of animals for a living and have very rich friends and patrons? That’s about it, right? I think we should stop kissing, and Sissy, you have to believe me when I tell you how hard that decision is, and talk.”

“I’m thinking more along the lines of postponing the kissing, to be resumed at the first opportunity. And I know a lot more about you than you think. I know you’re kind, that you’re very good with children, or at least with my child. Animals seem to trust you, you would never get the portraits right if they didn’t. I saw you the other morning on the patio, and Chip was in your lap, chirping away while you fed him. Chelsea said he’d never done that with anyone before.”

“Astute observations, Sissy, but that tells you very little. I came from a loving family, my parents, and one little sister. My dad passed almost two years ago, and Mom is rattilng around in her house, lost. I’m trying to talk her into selling out and moving here with me. I think a fresh start would do her good. I’m trying to talk Maddy, my sister, into coming along. She just graduated this year, certified as a teacher, and there aren’t a lot of opportunites where she lives.

I had a happy childhood, in a loving home. We weren’t rich, and I didn’t get everything I wanted, but I always got what I needed. Dad found me little part time jobs when I was old enough, trying to instill a work ethic in me. He said it worked, just before he passed away. I always completed whatever I was working on in the time designated, unless the customer wanted changes that would delay it, always at the price we had agreed on, and I’ve had few complaints. I don’t drink much, I don’t do any kind of drugs, not much on parties and nightlife. My ex was right when she said I was boring. To her and the lifestyle she wanted, I guess was.

I share a trait with every creative person I’ve ever met. Writers, artists, film makers, sculptors, we all tend to live in our head when we’re working. I don’t know about others, but it takes me a few days after a project to rejoin the living. I run the painting I just finished over and over in my head, wondering if I missed something. There was one instance where the painting had been hanging for nine months before I realized what I missed. It took five weeks of pleading before the owner let me touch it.”

Sissy kissed my cheek. “I’m the same when I wrestle with a story. However, I’ve something that brings me back to the world of the living almost instantly.”

“What would that be?”

Her eyes twinkled. “A child. Regardless of if we ever get together, if you have a child it automatically changes your priorities. Do you really think Katie would let you sit around and brood if she was around you everyday? Not for an instant. You’d be ‘back to the land of the living’ pretty darned quick.”

“Well,” I said, “if I had Katie, it would be a welcome change.”

That’s when the talking stopped and the kissing resumed. After another twenty minutes of driving each other into frustration, we parted, to calm down. She held my hand, and started talking about her life. “I don’t remember my father. He died when I was three, ran over by a lorrie while he was passed out in the middle of a back road. He and Mum were both alcoholics, but they did love each other. She took it hard when he died, and just gave up. I was fifteen when she passed, from alcohol induced liver disease. I lived in a hostel for wards of the Crown until I was seventeen, learned a trade, and went to work at the first place that offered employment.

I was a model employee, for six years. Tommy was a lad in the shipping department, a handsome rogue, just a bit older and a lot wiser in the ways of the world. He paid attention to me, and I succumbed to his charms. I was excited to find out I was pregnant. When I told him, he got a panicked look on his face, and was gone the next day. He’s never seen Katie, and I pray he never does. Since then, it’s been me and my baby against the world. She’s my life, Damon, and I want her to start out and end up better than I have.”

She sat back, emotionally drained, before continuing. “Of course, there’s a lot more, but that’s the salient points. Now you know, I’m not in your class, and never will be. You’re a successful artist with rich and influential friends, and I’m just a working class girl from Ireland. We have nothing in common and I just don’t see a future. That being said, you know I’m incredibly attracted to you. If all we have is my time here, I’d like to spend as much as possible with you.”

I was a little ticked. I was too good for her? That was bullshit, and I told her so, in strong terms I think she understood. When I finished my little tirade she was a little shocked but smiling.

“So then, there’s steel under that genteel manner. I like that. I’m a strong willed woman of necessity and inclination. My mate will need to be strong, to match and to keep me grounded.”

It was my turn to grin. “My mother will tell you I never back down from a challenge. My stubborn streak, remember, will undoubtedly show up, and when it does, you’ll need to be strong as well. Now then, as much as I’d like to spend the night right here, snuggled to you, we need to sleep. Unfortunately, in separate beds, so we’ll be fresh for Katie. Who knows what kind of adventures she has planned for tomorrow. Sweet dreams, my Irish sprite. Bewitch my nights, as you have my days, and I’ll have sweet dreams of my own.”

Ten more minutes of passionate kissing, and I was out the door.

The next day was involved in planning the trip. Henry and Chelsea lived four hundred miles farther North than the woman who was receiving the portrait, and I wanted to be there to check the condition of the painting in case there were any transportational issues. Chelsea had Katelyn and Sisoban pack, as they were riding with me, and spending the night at my house, roughly half way to our destination.

Katelyn chattered almost constantly, until she tired and napped until we stopped for lunch. She had insisted on a burger chain known for the prizes in the kid’s meals. Not exactly the fine dining we had been experiencing, but it made her happy. She played on the equipment, laughing with the innocence of youth, that made us smile as we sat and watched. Sissy had been holding my hand, and it felt empty when she retreived Katie, taking her to wash up. Another woman, watching her own children, smiled as she watched Sissy and Katelyn.

“You have a beautiful family.”

I smiled at the compliment. Instead of explaining anything, I agreed and thanked her, complimenting her on the blond twins that were still playing.

“They’re a handful, but worth every minute of sleep I’ve missed since they were born. I think I’ll sleep twelve hours a day when they go off to college.”

Sissy came back just then, Katie holding her hands up. I picked her up, smiled at the woman, and we left.

“What were you talking about?”

Was that jealousy? The blond was attractive. “Oh, nothing. She wanted to buy Katie, but didn’t want to pay what I asked. She offered me half, and was willing to throw in the little girls.” Katie was listening, eyes wide. I grinned and winked at her in the rearview mirror. “If the girls would have been redheads, I might have considered it. But I’m kind of partial to the one we have now, at least until someone comes up with a better offer. It would be hard to find someone prettier than Katie.”

Katie was grinning, knowing I was joking, and Sisoban punched my arm. “Next time, wait until I get back. Yanks are incredibly bad bargainers, and I’m sure I could have gotten us a better deal.”

“Mum!”

An hour later, we pulled into my drive. She was impressed with the rambling style of the place, and commented on how neat it was. “I’m a pretty organized person. Besides, when I’m gone for an extended period of time, my sister keeps check on the place. She’s a real neat freak, and the place is usually sparkling when I return.”

“You need flower beds. How else are you going to be able to weave headbands for me?”

I grinned at Katie. A woman in training for sure, already making alterations to what she thought the place should be.

I left them to get settled, unlocked my studio, and checked it out. It was as clean as I left it, but seemed empty. That’s when it hit me. The portrait of the children were on the way to the house it belonged in, but Sisoban was missing. I was thinking unkind things about Chelsea, thinking she had taken it to show tomorrow, when Sissy and Katie came in. It was obvious that Sissy had been crying. I didn’t think, I just pulled her to me. I wondered why Sissy was crying while Katie was grinning.

“What happened, honey?’

“Mummy saw the picture you painted of her. It was on her bedroom wall.”

Damn Chelsea anyway. This had her fingerprints all over it.

“Did you like it?”

She pulled her head out of my chest, smiling through her tears. “You made me beautiful!”

I smiled, relieved, and shocked her with my next statement. “I did no such thing. I just painted what was there. I didn’t make you anything, I just recorded the reality. In case you’re haviing a hard time following, you are beautiful, and that’s what I saw.”

The tears started again, while Katie was tugging on my shirt. “Will you paint one of me?”

I teased her, a little. “I don’t think so. If I did, there would be a debate over who’s more beautiful, the mother or the daughter. I wouldn’t want fights to break out.”

She frowned until she figured out what I was saying. With perfect childhood logic, she gave me a solution. “Don’t show them at the same time.”

“Oh no, when I paint you, I want it hanging right beside your mother, to dazzle the beholders. And I’ll probably paint both of you together, just to astound the masses.”

“You talk funny, Mr. Damon.”

Sissy joined the conversation. “He does, doesn’t he? Know what I think? I think he’s actually an Irishman, disguised to confuse us. It’s the only thing that would explain the blarney he keeps spouting.”

Katie was walking around, looking at everything. “Is this where I’ll paint? When?”

“Tomorrow morning, it’s when the light is best. I’ll set the easel up right after breakfast, if you behave.”

She almost stamped her foot. “I always behave! You tell me so, anyway.”

“Well, I can’t be found out to be a liar now, can I?”

I introduced Katie to my fifty inch television and my cable package. Soon enough she was sitting on the sofa, giggling, while Sissy and I made dinner. She was as efficient in a kitchen as she was at everything she applied herself too, moving with ease from one task to the next. Soon enough, Katie had to be weaned from her new best friend, only the promise to introduce her to my gaming system seemed to motivate her.

The meal of steak, mashed potatoes, green peas, and corn, with thick chunks of buttered bread made for a very enjoyable meal. Katie even stood on a chair and dried dishes while I washed, while Sissy sat and drank coffee, correcting us from time to time. It was a situation that occurred every day throughout suburbia, and it made me very happy.

I had gone on line and purchased a couple of age appropriate games, and after we got familiar with them, I found out what it was like to face a mother/daughter team, because they ganged up on me unmercifully. I don’t think I won a game, but we all had fun. Of course, I threatened gruesome forms of revenge, which made them both giggle. Katie got a bath and a cuddle, and I had to tuck her in, then read her stories until she fell asleep.

I felt eyes on me and looked up. Sissy was watching us, and I could not deciper the look on her face. She smiled when we made eye contact, walked in, gave her sleeping daughter a kiss, and took my hand.

She’d had her shower, and was dressed in a very pretty robe. Her hair, still damp, hung in loose ringlets. I had to fight the urge to pull out my camera. It occurred to me that if we every got together, she was going to learn to hate that habit.

She had made tea, and shoved a mug in my hand. Unlike most of my fellow Southerners, I liked hot tea, unsweetened, with a touch of lemon. Sissy went more towards heavily creamed with a teaspoon of sugar.

We sat in comfortable silence, snuggling. I was really glad she was a person who appreciated silence. Wendy couldn’t stand it, and tended to talk constantly. Mugs aside, we started kissing again, an extended session that had us both frustrated. She finally shoved me away. “Time for you to shower, mister, and we need to get to bed. Someone is going to want breakfast and her lesson pretty early tomorrow.”

I kissed her one last time, and went to my shower. I was so turned on I almost masturbated, but it didn’t seem right, somehow. Best decision I ever made.

I came out wrapped in a towel, to find her standing by the bed, wearing a very sexy little gown, coming down just past her panty, if you could call the almost nonexistent wisp of slik a panty. It was translucent green, shouding her assets in mystery while at the same time showing almost everything.

“Wha...” Her fingers were on my lips, stopping me. “Don’t talk. I have better uses for your mouth. Don’t overthink this Damon, I couldn’t stand it. If you say anything at all, I might lose my nerve, and I’m already shaky. If we go nowhere, if we find out we grate on each other’s nerves to the point of plotting murder later on, I want this night. Please?”

I kissed her. I mean REALLY kissed her, trying to bundle all the things I was feeling into one gesture. I must have communicated something, because she kissed back, hard. My hands wandered, and she yanked the towel away from my body, her hand verifying that I was really, really attracted to her. She pulled back a little, giggling.

“Oh my, aren’t you a nice one! Honey, I know just the place to keep this, at least for a little while.”

I almost growled in reply, my hands finding the wisp of cloth and tearing it away. Her eyes widened, but she sighed as I stroked her body, trying to learn every nuance of her, every trigger point, for later reference. “Try not to tear the gown, honey. It’s very expensive.”

I reached for the neck, untying the simple string, watching raptly as the shimmering cloth slid down to pool around her feet. She giggled again. “Good boy. You might be trainable after all. Something we will discuss in detail later. Now, though, NOW, take me! Love me Damon, love me hard! It’s been a long time. Next time treat me like glass, but right now, treat me like I’m unbreakable!”

I tossed her on the bed and she squealed softly. I started at her knees and kissed every square inch of her to her ears, while she squirmed and cooed, gasping when I paid attention to specific areas. She let out a little keening cry when I entered her, gently. As soon as I was fully seated though, she surged up, and we coupled fiercely. I couldn’t tell you how much time it took for her to peak twice before I couldn’t hold back any longer. I was slamming into her by then, her legs locked around my back, rising up to meet me. She moaned as I released into her, in yet another orgasm. I stayed inside her for a while, supporting myself with my arms, before I finally slipped to the side and wrapped my arms around her. It took her a few minutes to return, and when she did she gave me the sweetest, softest kiss I’d ever received, dropping instantly into sleep. I held her for a few minutes, breathing her scent, before she rolled over and pulled me along, until she was firmly spooned into me.

She woke me a few hours later, rummaging around in my dresser, before pulling a pair of boxers and a tee shirt out. She climbed back into bed, whispering. “I want to stay longer, and I need to be dressed in something in case she wakes and calls for me. All right, sweetheart?”

“Of course it’s all right. I’m just glad you didn’t grab on of my white button ups. It wouldn’t have stayed on you very long.”

She giggled into the darkness. “Something to file away, love. Now, since we’re up and haven’t acutally put anything on, do you th...”

“Enough talking. More loving.”

Another soft giggle. “All right.”

An hour later we had washed off a little and she donned the boxer and tee. “I’d like to snuggle, just a little, but I have to be back in my bed before Katie wakes. Hold me?”

I think I held her a little too long, because we drifted off and woke to a little girl giggling. Katie was at the foot of the bed, looking at us and smiling. Sissy wanted to hide her head and make Katie leave, but I patted the bed, an she crawled up between us, snuggling. I was suddenly very glad I’d put on pajama bottoms and a tee when I woke in the middle of the night and went to check on her. I even put a teddy bear that had belonged to me when I was seven in the bed beside her. She had it with her, and pulled insistently on her mother’s hair until Sissy finally got her head out of the pillow. Katie held up the bear, almost shoving it in her face.

“Look, Mummy! He just appeared last night! I woke up and there he was. I wonder what his name is?”

“That is entirely up to you. He chose you, so you get to name him. He’s a rare breed, Katie, one of the last of the great Snuggle Bears. Snuggles have special powers, just by hugging one you feel happy and safe. I thought they were extinct. This is the first one I’ve seen since I was your age. You must be very special for him to chose you.”

I kept a bland, sincere look on my face, while she looked at the bear and wondered. Sissy finally giggled, grabbing the bear. “Let’s see how snuggly he is.”

She snuggled to the stuffed animal, a look of concentration on her face, nodding once or twice as though she was listening to something. “Yes, I agree. Good idea. Yes, I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“What, Mummy, what?”

“He says he’s yours for the rest of your life, and you must be good to him, so he’ll be around to give to your own daughter. He said to tell you that if Snuggle Bears are mistreated they disappear, never to be seen until they find another young girl they think worthy. He also said he wouldn’t be able to talk to you until you’re all grown up, and ready for your own child. Snuggle Bears are very wise honey, so you must listen to his advice when the time comes. Do you agree to everything I’ve told you? If you do, he’ll be there for you all your life.”

Her eyes were wide with wonder as she held the teddy to her chest.

“I promise!,” she said, uttering the magic words. “I’ll be very, very good to him, and won’t let anyone else be mean to him. Do you think he’ll like Ireland?”

For just a second her smile faltered. “Oh, I think he might like to visit. After all, his name is Eion.”

Katie snuggled with the bear for a minute before grinning. “Eion is happy.”

“So are we. Sadly, little Princess, we do not have an Eion to snuggle too. We’ll just have to make do with what we have, won’t we, Sissy?”

She caught on instantly. “I agree. Katie isn’t a Snuggle Bear, be she is quite cuddly.”

“I need to judge that for myself.” I pulled her and her mother to me, making a Katie sandwich. She wriggled and laughed while Sissy tickled her, then screamed when I started giving her big, wet, sloppy, ‘puppy kisses’. When she complained to her mother, she responded by licking the other side of her face, leading to more shrieks and giggles. I may have accidently given Sissy a few, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave me a few back.

We relaxed for a few minutes, laughing when Katie’s stomach growled. I threw back the covers. “Come along, Katie. Your Mum needs a shower and we need to start breakfast before you start thinking Snuggle Bears look tasty. Besides, you have a painting lesson today.”

That motivated her like nothing else, and she practically bounced down the hall to the kitchen. I heard the shower start in the master bath, and asked Katie if she knew how to make waffles. She did not, and before long was standing on a chair carefully breaking eggs into a mixing bowl. I let her stir everything until it was almost ready, then put the finishing touches to it. I put the syrup and butter on the table, poured her a glass of milk, and dropped the first one onto her plate. She deliberated, before deciding that blueberries and chocolate chips were the perfect companions to the waffle, with a big mound of whipped cream.

Sissy came in glowing from her shower, and frowned slightly at the meal until Katie put some whipped cream on her nose and licked it off. They both giggled, and soon she had her own waffle, covered in berries, chips, and whipped cream. Just as I was sitting down, the doorbell rang. Before I could stop her, Katie was off her chair and running to the door. I was almost out of the kitchen when Katie came walking back in, holding my sister’s hand.

My sister was grinning like crazy, and the grin got bigger when she saw Sissy. “I’ve already met Katie, big brother. Why don’t you introduce me to your other guest.”

“Sisoban O’Mallory, I would like you to meet Madison Dawes, my favorite sister. Maddy, this is Sisoban.”

She was grinning at the embarrassed expression on Sissy’s face. “Jerk, I’m your only sister. It’s very nice to meet you, Miss O’Mallory, and your lovely daughter. I’m glad to see my brother has finally developed good taste. He may be trainable, after all. It’s nice to see him in semi-domestication for a change. It just goes to show anything is possible. I call the next waffle.”

In a matter of minutes they were chatting like old friends, mostly about me, as if I wasn’t even in the room. Katie got bored and slid off the chair. “Mommy, it’s almost time.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

Katie grinned at Maddy. “You’re not interrupting. Mr. Damon is going to let me paint something in his studio.”

She looked at me, one eyebrow arched, grinning. “Really? You’re a lucky girl. He won’t even let me in there to clean, much less touch his stuff.”

Sissy grinned back. “Well, it would seem she is being accorded great honor. Let’s clean up the kitchen while Mr. Damon gets a shower and opens his studio. Maddy, would you like to stay to witness this historic event?”

“Oh, you couldn’t blow me out of here with a block of C4. I’ll even help with the dishes.”

I left for my shower, knowing that once I left the room, the dirt dishing would begin in earnest. After a good hot shower, I threw on splattered jeans and an equally splattered t-shirt. Looking at my clothes, I decided another of my shirts, one that looked like a Pollack imitation, would make an excellent smock for a seven (“Seven and a half!”) year old girl.

Katie was almost quivering with excitement, and when I gave her the splattered shirt Sissy and Maddie grinned, helping her adjust it so it semi-fit. I set up an easel, adjusted it to her height, and prepared a basic palette with some of the more standard colors, taught her how to clean the brushes when she changed colors, and turned her loose.

“What should I paint?”

I could see the uncertainty on her face. “Anything you want. Whatever your mind sees. Don’t worry about what it looks like when you’re done, this is just for fun. If you try too hard you’ll take the joy out of it, and the painting will be less because of it.”

“I need a model. Painters always have models, don’t they?”

“Most times. I paint off photographs, because my subjects are animals for the most part, and not known for their patience. Could you imagine telling a pig to stay still for long periods, or smile?”

I had a flash of inspiration. “Tell you what. Why don’t you do a self portrait?”

“A what?”

I pulled a full length mirror I sometimes used when I wanted two angles of the same subject out of the corner. “There now. Look in the mirror and paint what you see.”

She got it immediately. Katie asked me for directions several times, mostly about mixing paint to achieve certain colors, but that was about it. I couldn’t help it and pulled out the camera, taking pictures as she worked.

When she was done I had to admit it was a very good first attempt, especially by a child that age. Katie glowed under the praise of the ladies and I, and I had to promise to keep it. I declared it would be hanging on my bedroom wall as soon as it dried.

“Can I paint something else?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll teach you to do still lifes. It’s pretty easy after you get the hang of it.”

We adjourned back to the house where Maddy and Sissy helped Katie remove the paint from her skin. She’d been incredibly neat, but even as experienced as I was, I always managed to get a few splashes on me every time.

Maddy walked into the living room. “I called Mom. She’s on her way.”

I put my hand over my eyes. This was the icing on the cake. I knew Mom. She would take one look at Sissy amd Katie and have expectations. She was in her early fifties, and a major bone of contention between us was the lack of grandchildren. She’d look at the two and go nuts, thinking she was getting the bonus package. The girls came out, and we spent the rest of the morning exploring the grounds. Katie was looking at the big oak in my side yard, her forehead furrowed.

“What are you thinking about so hard, Princess?”

“This swing needs a tree. You should get one.”

“I think you meant to say this tree needs a swing. I would, but that would require I get someone to swing in it.”

“I’ll do it.”

“We’ll see what we can do when we get back. At least you’ll get a few days of enjoyment out of it.”

She frowned up and stuck her lip out when I said a few days. She was a carbon copy of Sissy, she did the same thing when she got news she didn’t want to hear or if things didn’t go to suit her. I grabbed her up and bit gently on the lip, surprising her.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you looked so cute. You better watch me close, I’m prone to strange outbursts when confronted with cuteness.”

She giggled and stuck her lip out again. Instead of biting it I kissed it, and then swung her around until she was dizzy and screaming with laughter. Mom, with impeccable timing, chose that instance to appear.

I saw her and put Katie down, and she staggered towards Sissy, clearly off balance. She was just about to fall when Mom caught her, sweeping her up into her arms. When her head stopped swimming, she asked who she was.

“I’m Damon’s mother. Who are you?”

“If you’re Damon’s mother, you must be a nice lady, because he is such a nice man. I like him a lot. I’m Katie. Sisoban is my mother.”

“Thank you for saying I’m a nice woman. And Damon does have his moments. Did you know he was ticklish?”

Suddenly I saw grins on the faces of all the women, and it gave me a really bad feeling. I turned to flee, but Maddy had snuck up behind me. She tackled me around the knees and down I went, three women and one little girl all over me. They must have had me screaming for five minutes, all of us rolling in a bundle on the soft grass, before we mutually decided it was enough, and lay entwined under the oak. Katie had managed to land on top of me, and she sighed as I stroked her hair. I caught Mom with what suspiciously looked like tears in her eyes as she looked at us.

This was getting out of hand. I felt like I was being rushed into making decisions that would alter my life, and I wanted it to go slowly. I was having strong feelings for both my girls, but I wanted to be sure in my heart before anyone got hurt.

Mom had brought two suitcases, seems she and Maddy were staying with me until it was time to unveil the painting. We cleaned up, and I puttered around, getting the grill ready. Maddy was keen for my girls to taste real, authentic Southern Barbeque, so they went to the store en masse, coming home with a weeks worth of groceries. I started to object and say it would spoil before I used it all, until I noticed both Sissy and Katie talking about their favorite meals, that they were going to prepare for me, so I knew they wouldn’t go to waste.

I had rubbed the ribs, let them stand, then rubbed them again. I cheated a little, boiling them first so they would stay tender, rubbing them one last time before wrapping them in foil and tossing on the grill. When they were three quarters ready I unwrapped them but left them lying on the foil. I had been using cherry wood scattered over the coals, and tossed some fresh on, along with a piece I had soaked a little. The smell was overpowering. Maddy kept the girls in the kitchen, teaching them how to make Southern style potato salad and coleslaw. I had thrown a half dozen ears of corn on earlier, unwrapping them when they were done to gain a little of the cherry flavor. Mom had made the tea, and was sitting on the picnic table, chatting while I grilled.

“They’re lovely, Damon. Really lovely. Sissy isn’t a classic beauty, she has too much character in her face for that, but that makes her even more appealing in my opinion. Katie is just a living doll and sweet as can be. You could do a lot worse than making them part of our lives.”

I sighed. “I really, really like them, both of them. But we’ve only known each other for a few days, and I don’t want this turning into a whirlwind romance gone wrong. Too much is at stake here, especially for the child. We’ve already bonded, and it would devastate all of us if it didn’t work out. That being said, you know how determined I can be. And Mom, I’ve never wanted anything so much in my whole life as I do those two. So, let us take our time and go our own speed, okay? If this works out the way I hope, you will indeed get the bonus package. You won’t start trying to spoil them, will you?”

She smirked. “Too late on that I’m afraid. I’ve already started spoiling them. You always were level headed, Damon. Keep to your principles, but let love sway you a little when the time comes. And that, Forrest, is all I have to say about that.”

I grinned at her reference to one of our favorite movies and told her she had finally started giving good advice, and I found it refreshing.

I didn’t know it, but Sissy had come out, the big oak obscuring her from our view, and had heard the whole thing. A few minutes later she came around the tree. It looked like she had been crying, but her smile showed every tooth in her head. She saw the question in my eyes, grinned, and said she was fine.

She wrapped Mom up in a big hug, whispering in her ear. They walked off arm in arm towards the kitchen, grinning and looking back at me the whole time. There was trouble in River City, Professor, with a capital T.

They came out bearing platters and plates, and we sat, bathed in the late afternoon sun, consuming the feast we had prepared, enjoying the company. Katie seemed surprised when Mom tied a big plastic bib around her neck, but thirty minutes later, as a pile of bones lay stacked beside her plate, I took a picture of her, her face smeared with barbeque sauce, with a lot more on her hands and the bib, and she understood.

We all had a little sauce on our faces, and we laughed as we cleaned each other with the wet wipes Mom hade thoughtfully provided. Katie declared we all had to clean the one sitting to our right, so Katie got to clean Mom, Maddy got to clean Katie, I got Maddy, Mom got Sissy, and Sissy got me. It seemed to take her forever to wipe away the sauce on my face, going long after the others were done. Mom, giggling, broke the mood when she said she was going to fetch dessert, coming back in a few minutes with a large bowl of banana pudding. We had to break out the wipes again for Katie.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Mom to rock Katie after her bath, on the big rocking chair that had been left when I bought the house. I liked it so much I’d had it restored. Katie sighed as she played with Mom’s long hair, the silver and gold strands making an interesting contrast. She snuggled deeper and was out like a light. Not one person made mention of the slow tears that leaked down Mom’s cheek. Thirty minutes later, Sissy had me pick Katie up and deposit her in her bedroom.

We sat and talked for a while, and by talk I meant the cross examination of the women. Sissy was honest about her past, and Mom regaled us with tales of my misdeeds when I was younger. Soon they were all looking at me pointedly, so I took the hint and excused myself for bed, knowing my name would be on their lips before the shower got warm.

I woke a little when Sissy snuggled to me, spooning into my back. It felt so good though, I went right back to sleep. I woke about two, and immediately got up to check on Katie. I nearly had a heart attack when she wasn’t in her bed, but relaxed when I found her, snuggled into Mom’s arms, the teddy bear on top of them. I didn’t deny my urge, and snapped a few pictures, the lens set to low light. I made a cup of tea, taking it out on the front porch, watching the full moon as it traveled across the sky, and wondered where my life was headed. Never particularly religious, I found myself uttering a short prayer. Then I got up and went back to bed.

Sissy had moved to the center of the bed, and her hand was moving like she was looking for something. Just as soon as I touched her she stopped, sliding back to her side of the bed, then snuggling fiercely into me when I lay down. I grinned in the darkness. Maybe God was answering my prayer. I was asleep in minutes.

We woke when the door opened, and Katie jumped on the bed. Maddy and Mom stood grinning, telling us to get our snuggle time in before breakfast. We had a long day ahead of us.

We snuggled as instructed, sharing a few puppy kisses and hugs, then got up and prepared for the day. We were travelling because tonight was the big unveiling, and I was more nervous over what I had painted than I had been over anything I’d ever done. Sissy calmed me as best she could.

“Relax, me darlin’. You made me beautiful, so you can do anything with a brush you set your mind too. I’m sure it will be quite lovely. Now help me wrangle Katie, she’s going crazy trying to figure out who to follow.”

It was true. Katie was going from Maddy to Mom to Sissy. I finally took her out to the studio, put a banana, a few grapes, a pear, and an apple in a small bowl, placed it on a small table, and told her to practice painting them. That kept her occupied until it was time to go. I was impressed again at her efforts, deciding on the spot there would be lessons in her future, whether she ended up my daughter or not.

Sissy and I were in my SUV, Mom and Maddy following in their car. Every time we stopped, Katie switched cars, even though it was a pain in the butt to switch her car seat.

We finally topped a rise on a long private drive, and there was the house. A huge, rambling Southern mansion, a relic of the Old South, complete with a small ballroom. I knew that was where the painting would be. My girls all seemed impressed, but I’d had a few years of visiting the domiciles of the rich and ultra-rich, so it was just another house to me.

The owners, Anne and Clark, met us at the door. They seemed a nice couple, making us welcome, showing us to our rooms so we could relax before dinner. I couldn’t, of course, because I had to see to the painting. Clark followed me to the door of the ballroom.

“Claire says your painting is very good. I hope so. Anne has had a hard time dealing with the passing of Billy and Jenny. They were our only grandchildren up to now, and we’ve felt the loss deeply. Our youngest is about to have a baby, what may be the only grandchild we ever have. Anne is obsessing over making everything child safe in the house, and swears that the child will never sled. I’m hoping by the time he or she is ready, Anne will have relaxed. I did put a fence around the hill. There will be no repeats of what happened last time.”

“I hope the painting brings her comfort, sir, and joy. I can tell you it was incredibly hard to paint, from an emotional perspective. I’m not a father, yet, but I’ve recently become quite attached to a little girl, and the thought of something happening to her fills me with terror.”

“The little redhead? She isn’t yours? I could have sworn that ... well, never mind. I’ll leave you to it.”

It took me three hours to uncrate, inspect, and position the painting where the light would enhance it the most. I was almost done when I heard the door open. I frowned, prepared to fuss at someone, and turned. Katie stood, with her mouth open, looking at the painting.

My anger evaporated as I gently shut the door behind her. “Katie, why are you here, honey?”

“Mum sent me to see if you were done. It’s almost dinner time, and she said you had to dress.”

“Thank you, baby. What do you think of the painting?”

“It’s beautiful! Will they be here tonight?”

How do you explain mortality to a seven year old child? “No, Katie. These children have passed. They died within minutes of the photograph I based this on was taken. This is a memorial to them, a tribute to young lives that ended way too soon.”

Soft tears welled up, dripping down her cheeks. “That is very sad, Da.”

“It is indeed. Anne and Clark are their grandparents, and I painted the portrait for them. They haven’t seen it yet, so not a word. Understand?”

“I promise. I hope they like it.”

“So do I, sweet Katie. Now, let me drape this, and we’ll find your mother.”

Katie was quiet, and wanted to be carried, snuggling to me tightly. I caressed her curls and hummed softly, and she slowly relaxed into slumber. Sissy grinned when she saw us, laying her gently on the bed. “Where were you when she was teething? I could have used a little help in those days.” I suddenly wished with all my heart I had been, a vision of Katie as a baby in my arms, while I walked her. Sissy saw the look on my face but wisely let it pass; divining, no doubt, with her female intuition, what I was thinking. She put her hand on my arm, reached up and kissed my cheek, saying something softly in Gaelic. I asked her what she said, and she just smiled and said I should learn the language.

We dressed for dinner as the other guests started arriving. It was close friends and family, but they made us welcome, charmed by my girls when they spoke in their lilting voices. Katie was dressed in a smart frock, a green velvet so dark it was almost black, with a white lace collar, lacy little socks, and black patent leather shoes. She looked so sweet I wanted to lift her up and take a bite. When Sissy entered the dining room talk ground to a halt. Her green silk dress was highlighted by an emerald choker and bracelets, her hair up in a smart bun. She seemed to glide across the room in her green satin high heels. I’m sure later half of us would have sworn she was floating. She looked around nervously as talk resumed and people were presented to her.

“What happened?”

“It’s a reaction I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to, honey. Most have never been stunned by beauty, and it’s a new experience to them.”

she started, then gave a tight little smile as we circulated. Everyone was interested in who she was, and more than a few of the males wondered who she belonged to. She clarified that when Katie came up, wanting to be held. By me. I picked her up and Sissy took my arm possessively, letting the other women know I was claimed.

One dowager, in her late eighties, hobbled up on her cane. “Young man, you should consider yourself one of the luckiest men on the planet. I’ve never seen such a beautiful family.”

Before Sissy could explain, I squeezed her tighter and answered. “Thank you, madame, I do. I see age has not impared your vision, though I think if you were to take these lovely ladies out of the picture, all you would see before you is an average man.”

“Do not sell yourself, young man, you are handsome enough in your own right. Handsome enough, at any rate, to catch this rare beauty and create this darling child.”

“She is indeed a miracle, but she owes all her beauty to her mother.”

“Oh, I can see your eyes and chin in her, so you helped a little.”

Sissy was startled at first, then she smiled and gripped my arm tighter. Katie was trying to follow the conversation and asked me, “What’s the nice lady saying, Da?”

When Katie said “Da” Sissy flinched a little and locked down on my arm, a grip I was sure would leave bruises later. I ruffled Katie’s hair a little, smiling down at her. “She says you’re pretty, baby, as pretty as your mother.”

She giggled and thanked the woman, sliding out of my arms to curtsey before her. The woman, impressed with her manners, took her hand and kissed it. Then she led her over and introduced her to her great grandson, a boy only a year or so older. As with most males of the species who encountered Katie and her mother, he was smitten by beauty, and tongue-tied. I had a thought that when she was older I would need to invest in shotguns. Wait, what?

The dinner was delicious. Katie sat between Sissy and I, happy with the attention. She asked me to cut her meat, which I did. Anne, seated across from us, remarked to those near that she was definitely Daddy’s girl. I felt my head swell a little. I started to explain our relationship, but Sissy stepped in. “Yes, she’s quite attached to Damon, isn’t she? At least it gives me a few moments to myself once in a while.”

I thought to myself, as I looked at the girls, that it would take something exceptional to top the feeling tonight was giving me.

After dessert, Claire rose, chiming her glass to get attention. “Friends, family, and welcome guests, thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot to Anne and Clark. We all know of the grief her family has had to deal with in the last couple of years. I decided that I had to do something, so I commissioned a well known artist, Mr. Damon Dawes, to help me. If you would accompany us to the ballroom, please.”

We all dutifully trooped to the large room. The portrait, draped, sat right in the middle. Claire, fearing Anne’s reaction, had told her about the painting, so she could prepare herself. “Damon, if you please?”

I had positioned a spotlight high on one of the walls. Over time I had become quite adept at staging paintings, and I hoped for the best. Maddy was drafted to help, and we slowly slid the cover down until it was at the base of the painting. Then I flipped on the light, shining directly on the portrait. I was expecting something, but not what I got.

There were almost two minutes of dead silence, until someone sobbed. It was Clark, the terror of boardrooms and court chambers, crying like a baby. Anne did almost faint, I think only the sobs of her husband kept her upright. Claire, Chelsea, Henry, almost everyone in the room at one time or another held the couple, and their daughter Kelsie, the mother of the children. The father was long gone, the stress of losing his children too much to bear, causing irreparable damage to the marriage. The drunk redneck killed more than a pair of innocent children that snowy day. The repercussions of his actions would resonate within this family dynamic for decades to come.

The mother remained fairly stoic until Katie walked up to her and held up her hands. The woman picked her up, and that’s when her calm broke. She sobbed as Katie rubbed her face, her own tears mixing on their cheeks. She sought me out later, after everyone had time to calm a little. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve made my children immortal, capturing the light of their souls. May I give you a hug?”

I held my arms out and she melted into me, crying once again. After a second she stepped back, wiping her tears with a napkin. Sissy had been standing beside me and she smiled at her. “This one’s special, my dear. You need to hold on tightly, or someone else will snap him up.”

Sissy had been smiling until the last statement. She frowned a bit before grinning as Katie came up. “Aye, I will. But I don’t have to cling too much. Seems I have the key to his heart right here.”

By then Katie was in my arms. Kelsie smiled. “Yes, there is no better love for a man than that for his daughter. I remember when Jenny was small and Bob would...”

Powerful memories hit again, and the tears returned. Mom and Maddy were with us, and the three women swept her up in a group hug. I picked up Katie and we moved away, to give them a moment. They broke later, tears on all their faces, going en masse to freshen up.

Katie sighed. “I’m tired of everyone being so sad, Da.”

“So am I, baby. Let’s get some air.”

I carried her out on the wide veranda, spotting a swing and sitting in it, rocking quietly. She was asleep in minutes. My girls found me half an hour later. Sissy smiled, and got Katie up, taking her to bed. Mom and Maddy sat beside me, snuggling. Seems that was mostly what I did now. I’d like to think I was getting good at it. I’d have to ask Katie later.

“I’ve never been more proud of you in my life, son. That painting, well it, it ... I can’t describe the emotions it brings forth. I always knew you had talent, but this ... this makes me want to use the word genius.”

I felt my cheeks glow. Who would ever thought they would hear praise like that from one’s own mother? It made me very uncomfortable. “Mom, it’s nothing, really. I...”

Maddy put her fingers to my lips. “Hush, big brother. Stop trying to deny it. I have a sneaking feeling that when I go, whatever I accomplish in my life, the obituary will read “Madison Dawes, sister of noted artist Damon Dawes, has passed away.” I don’t know how your world works, but anyone that sees that portrait will agree, the man who painted it has the ability to look into souls, and bring them out in his paintings.”

This was getting ridiculous, and out of hand. “Stop! I’m just a guy who can paint pretty pictures. The same guy who picked on you when you were little, the same stubborn son who used to irritate you no end. I’m still me.”

I heard laughter and looked up to see Claire, Anne, Chelsea, Kelsie, and Sissy standing there. Henry, Clayton, and Clark right behind them. “You must find his humility and modesty refreshing, Sissy.”

“Aye, I do, even though he told me what a wonderful man he was when we first met. I thought he was lying about it then. Seems his words were true. How, oh how, will I ever measure up?”

She said it in jest, but I could see her eyes. She was worried. I startled them all when I laughed. “Sisoban O’Mallory! Measuring up? I will never be more than knee high to the beauty of your soul, much less the beauty of your body and mind. Even Katie far outshines any little thing I may have done. Measure up? Ha!”

She flushed, smiling. Mom and Maddy got up, and she slid beside me. The others took to the comfortable chairs and settees that were scattered across the porch. The guests that weren’t staying had gone, and a maid brought out several bottles of wine, with glasses. Clark poured, and when all had a glass he raised his. “To Damon, and the joy he brought us!”

They all raised their glasses and took a sip and I raised mine. “To Jenny and Billy. May they bask in the love of God.”

I said it quietly but with a tone of conviction, and they quickly raised their glasses. We talked, quietly, for a while, until Maddy yawned and stood. “Please, excuse me. This day has been long and taken an emotional toll of all of us, I’m sure. Thank you, Anne and Clark, for sharing your home and these most intimate of moments with us. God bless you. Goodnight.”

She kissed Mom, Sissy, then me on the cheek. Mom rose next. “I think I too will seek my bed. Good night all.” Mom followed Maddy, kissing us all.

We all agreed to call it a night. Sissy was dragging by the time we got to our bedroom. When we first arrived, they showed us to separate rooms. Sissy just smiled and carried her case into my room. Anne smiled back, and said Katie could use that bedroom.

We got ready for bed, and just before we snuggled down Katie came through the door, holding her Eion. “Mum, Da, I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?”

I pulled the covers back, glad I’d put pajamas on. I lifted Katie up and put her in the middle, kissing her curls. Sissy smiled a sleepy smile, and they were out before I got the covers pulled up. I woke up sometime later, to find Katie sleeping on my chest while Sissy snuggled to my side. They were still in my arms the next morning.

Mom came in and got Katie, bathing her while Sissy and I got our showers. We showered together, and though we didn’t fool around, it was a close thing. Hands may have wandered, and some parts got extra clean, but we managed to make it without any exchange of bodily fluids, if you discounted the kisses.

Clark and Anne stood on the porch waving as we drove away the next morning, wrapped in each others’ arms. Anne told Mom that it was the most intimate touches they’d had since the accident. She also told her she found Kelsie in the ballroom, just staring at the painting. Apparently she had been there all night.

Katie was riding the first leg home with Mom and Maddy, leaving Sissy and I to talk as we drove. It was idle chatter for a while, but things turned serious pretty quickly.

“Katie loves you, you know.”

“I know. I love her too, Sissy, more than I ever expected to. There are times when I can’t seem to remember she’s not my flesh and blood. I’ve never been so in tune with a child in my life. Thank you, for bringing her. And thanks also, for coming. I can imagine the look on your face when you met Henry and Clayton.”

Her smile was soft, not quite full formed, just playing around her lips and eyes. “Oh, they were impressive, until I met Chelsea and Claire. After meeting them, I finally understood what impressive means.”

“They’re not quite forces of nature, but close. Did you know Chelsea holds a law degree? From reports, she was quite good, but she gave it up to have a family, and never regretted it. She said she used her degree to teach them how to face life, how to keep their eye on the objective, and be prepared for any contingency. Now that they’re gone, she sits on the boards of three companies, and four charities. Chelsea has become quite adept at squeezing the last dollar from a donor. She usually gets what she wants.”

“I know. She’s already told me our next daughter will be named Chelsea Claire, and our first son Henry Clayton.”

“It’s good to have a plan. I’d like to hope we’d have a little input, but with her? We can only hope for the best.”

“Yes, well, if we have a second daughter, it will be Madison Marilyn, for your Mum and sister.”

“Three? We’d best get busy then. When we, um, if we get married we’ll have to start quickly. I vote we practice as much as possible, when we get home.”

She smiled but let the slip of tongue go, and agreed with me.

Mom and Maddy stayed another night before leaving. I took advantage of them bonding and went into town, shopping at two big box stores before coming home, and pulling Mom aside. She grinned, kissed my cheek, and agreed with my plans. Soon it was announced the girls were going to see a movie, a new Pixar that I knew Katie was dying to see. It was to be a girls’ afternoon out, and no boys were allowed. I pretended to be sad and Katie was on the verge of asking me to come when I picked her up and gave her a puppy kiss. While she was fussing and trying to wipe it off I told her I didn’t want to see some silly girl movie anyway, I’d just stay home and cook something on the grill.

I stood and waved as they pulled away. When they were out of sight I pulled my phone out, hit the number, and said “Now”. Fifteen minutes later two box trucks pulled in and four guys piled out. I’d promised them all an extra hundred if they could assemble it in two hours. They made it with ten minutes to spare, including cleanup. I shook every hand and thanked them, giving the crew chief five hundred dollar bills, for their bonus and a nice dinner later. I still remember their grins, and the parting words of the leader.

“Damn, mister. You must really love your kid.”

“I do,” I said, smiling.

I had the grill going when the ladies got home. Mom made sure the girls knew what I’d done, and they kept Katie busy getting food ready while she came out. She looked, smiled, and took my camera. She walked back inside with a funny look on her face. “What’s up, Mom?”

“It’s the darnedest thing. There’s a teddy bear outside, and he can talk. He sounds funny, though, he’s got a thick Irish accent, and said his name was, William, Ian, I really couldn’t understand him so I can’t say for sure. Anyway, I did understand ‘Katie’, so I’m pretty sure he wants you outside, honey.”

Katie listened, her eyes getting wider. She looked from woman to woman, but all managed to hide their smiles.

“A talking teddy bear? This I have to see.” Maddy went to the back door and as soon as she opened it Katie shot by her. I bet the neighbors had to wonder at the scream.

Eion was sitting in the seat of a rope swing, hanging from a big limb of the oak, and just past him was the largest swing set/tree house I could find. Katie was twirling, trying to take it all in, tears flowing. When she saw me she charged, going into a full leap when she got close. I caught her and she buried her face in my shoulder, saying “Da, Da, Da,” over and over. The girls stood and grinned, and when Katie recovered she slid down and took my hand, leading me to the tree swing. I helped her in, and listened to her shrieks of laughter as she went higher and higher. Soon all the girls took turns pushing her, until she tired. Then she grabbed Eion and they explored the swing set, ending up in the tree house. I could hear her whispering to her teddy bear, discussing important things, no doubt.

We ate, laughed, and played the rest of the evening. It was well past dark before we could get Katie out of the treehouse and ready for bed. Mom took charge again, giving her a bath, brushing her hair before weaving it into a thick braid. They came out and immediately took possession of the rocker. The excitement of the day had worn her out, and she was soon asleep. Mom held her for another hour before surrendering her to Sissy. She was grinning like crazy and grabbed my arm. “Outside, now!”

She led me to the picnic table. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?”

The smack to the back of the head was totally unexpected. “About your family, idiot! Are you really going to let them leave?”

“Mom. it’s not that simple. I...”

The smack was a little harder. I wasn’t at all sure I liked this side of Mom. She’d never been this aggressive before.

“It is that simple. You love them. They love you. Keep them. Oh, I’m not saying run down to the courthouse tomorrow, but keep them, move them in, let them get used to the idea. Then say go to Chelsea and I, and get out of the way. We’ll handle everything else.”

“I don’t know if they share these feelings, Mom. What if...” I saw it coming this time and moved away.

She almost lost her balance, so I grabbed her and she wrapped me in a fierce hug. Then she pushed me back, grinning. “They do. I see the way her eyes follow you when you’re together. You didn’t see it, but when Kelsie hugged you a second time, Sissy wore a huge frown. Her hair seemed to go a deeper red. She was jealous, that’s why she seemed to hang on to you the rest of the night. Marking territory so to speak. And Katie, well, I think Katie, if given the choice, would stay with you if Sissy went back. You know why she calls you Da?”

I shrugged. “I guess it’s a sort of endearment, a shortening of Damon or something.”

Mom laughed. “I asked Sissy. She didn’t want to tell me at first, but finally broke down. It’s the Irish form of Dad. She’s been calling you Daddy and Sissy hasn’t stopped her. Does that tell you anything? Maddy and I are leaving in the morning, to give you as much privacy as possible. That will give you five uninterrupted days to cement this relationship. Don’t screw this up! Understand?”

“I shall give it my best effort,” I said, with as straight a face as possible. She smiled, brushed my cheek, and went back into the house. I sat there for a long time, thinking. Sissy came out, sitting beside me without a word. She did reach for my hand, though, and held it tightly.

“What are we doing here, exactly?”

“Well, I’m working on falling even more in love with you and Katie than I am now, if such a thing is possible. You?”

She sighed. “I’m trying to come to terms with all of this. I’ve never really been in love before, Katie’s father was more a combination of infatuation and hormones. I have had a few lovers, but no one I connected with on an intimate level this deeply. I’m a little afraid, Damon. What if this blows up in our faces? How would Katie react? I have to keep her needs in the forefront, ahead of everyones, including myself.”

“Mom told me what Da meant.”

She stiffened. “I should have stopped her. By letting her call you that I’ve raised her expectations. You’re the first father figure she’s ever had, and she wants a Da badly. Do you see how confusing this is getting?”

“No, from my end it keeps getting clearer and clearer. I love you. I love her, and I’m willing to bet I love her as deeply as any sperm donor could. Therefore, the only thing keeping us from going farther is you. IF you want out, now is the time. I’ll admit I’d be heartbroken, but the human mind is resilient, and I could probably love again, if I’m forced to. It may take a long time, but eventually I’d get there. But every time I hear a voice with an Irish accent, or glimpse a little girl with red hair, I would remember, and feel the pain all over again. So, we either go further, or we start cooling this down, for Katie. To quote my favorite movie, ‘and that’s all I have to say about that’. It’s your call.”

Sissy sighed and snuggled to me. “It’s too fast, Damon. I want this with all my heart, but it’s like a runaway train, building speed until it crashes.”

Not what I was expecting, not at all. “So then, you think we’re going to jump the tracks, crash and burn? Why are we even discussing a future, then? I’m sorry, Ms O’Mallory, that I misread your intentions. It will not be repeated. Now, I think we’ve said all there is to say. I’ll be wishing you goodnight now. You can have the bedroom beside Katie, in case she wakes in the night.”

I was beyond furious as I stalked off. She called after me but I kept going, straight to my bedroom, pushing her suitcases out into the hall and locking the door. I had my shower, trying to cool down. It didn’t help much. A bit later I heard someone try to turn the doorknob of my bedroom. When it failed to open I heard her call out to me quietly, but I ignored her. It seems I needed to get used to sleeping alone again.

I was awakened by Katie pounding on the door. “Da, get up! It’s time for breakfast, and I’m hungry.”

I jumped up and opened the door. A bundle of flying red curls landed in my arms.”Da, can we have waffles again? Can I wake Mum? Why was your door locked?”

I cuddled her, wondering how many more of these I was going to get. It did nothing to improve my mood, but I decided I was going to spend every minute I could with her, so I put on a happy face. “Let her sleep, honey. She was up late last night.” I closed the door before she could see into the room, and Katie gave me a look, but said nothing.

Once again she was standing on the chair, carefully breaking the eggs, adding the sugar and other ingredients under my watchful eye. “When I get big enough, I’m going to make waffles all by myself for you and Mummy. Would you like that?” It broke my heart to hear her say that, but I enthused about how much I was looking forward to the day with her.

Sissy stumbled in, hair a tangled mess, in baggy pajamas. It pleased me a bit to see she was looking so rough. I didn’t say a word, just handed her a coffee cup. We barely spoke, but Katie didn’t notice it as she chattered away, giving me my itenirary for the day. Apparently art lessons were first, followed by quality time on her new swing set, then lunch, a nap, followed by more swing time, then dinner. For as young as she was, she was pretty well organized. I smiled and agreed with most, saying we would have to see about after lunch activities.

Sissy said little during the meal, thanking me for pouring her coffee and praising Katie on her culinary skills. I cleared the dishes and gave Katie her smock. In the studio, I placed a single sunflower in a small vase, and had her paint it as best she could. I can still see her, a determined look on her face, as she carefully moved her brush, giggling when it turned out well, and sighing, her lip out, when it didn’t go the way she wanted it to. I let her paint for forty-five minutes before telling her it was playtime, so we needed to clean up.

Sissy was sitting quietly on the tree swing when we came out of the studio, and was still there when Katie was ready to swing. She giggled when she saw her. “Let me push you, Mummy!” She tried mightily, but couldn’t get her very high. Frustrated, she turned to me.

“You do it, Da! Make her sail!”

Before Sissy could speak, I gave a mighty shove. Maybe there wa a little misplaced aggression in my actions, because she went pretty high. I pushed even harder the next time, and she surprised us by laughing. It was like soothing lotion on a sunburn, and I became a little more gentle, maintaining good height but not too hard. Finally Katie stamped her foot.

“My turn!”

I let Sissy loose momentum naturally. She sighed when she stopped, then hopped out, throwing herself in my arms and giving me a tremendous kiss while Katie laughed. She broke contact and rubbed my cheek. “We need to talk,” she said, the four words no man wants to hear, “but first, let’s play with our child.” Boy, that took the sting out of those words fast. I felt warm and fuzzy the rest of the morning.

Sissy kept Katie active until lunch, and after a quick sandwich she started drooping. I had a massive hammock one of my clients had given me as a thank you. It was made by one of the eight businesses he helped start through a micro-loan program he participated in, helping people without funds have a chance to fulfill their dreams. The people were pretty well vetted, and the failure rate was very low. I was so impressed I joined the program, giving ten thousand a year. I felt good every time I wrote the check.

Anyway, the hammock was huge, and I talked both girls into lying down with me. Rocking back and forth gently, Katie was asleep in minutes. She was lying on top of both of us, and Sissy slipped out one side, I out of the other. I looked down at the face of the little angel, and sighed. Sissy took my hand and led me to the picnic table.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have handled it better. I need you to see things from my side. This is a Cinderella story here, and I’m Cinderella. Maybe more like Pygmalion. I’m a good person, I believe, but in the grand scheme of things I’m just a poor girl from Ireland, while you’re a star in your field, very successful, famous, and you make ridiculous amounts of money. You rub shoulders on a regular basis with millionaires and even billionaires, you’re accepted into their homes, and they treat you as an equal. What do I have that could enrich your life? I would be an embarrassment to you, and I can’t abide the thought. All that being said, I have very strong feelings for you. I’ve never in my life been in love with a man, but I have a suspicion this is what it feels like. I like it, I like it a lot.

Then there’s Katie. That child may as well be flesh of your flesh, she’s bonded to you so deeply. I’ve never seen her respond to anyone, especially a man, like she has to you. I think if it came to a choice between you and me, she would have to think about it. I can’t allow her to be hurt, and if you reject us it would destroy her.”

My temper had been rising steadily as she talked. When she wound down, I took about ten deep breaths before I spoke.

“You know, I’ve never believed violence is the answer to any problem, but your little speech makes me want to bend you over my lap and warm up that cute little butt until it glows red. It seems talking to the head isn’t working, so maybe I need to start at the other end and see if the message seeps upward. I didn’t grow up in the world I live in now, I was just an average kid, growing up with loving parents. We were not rich. And of all the people I associate with, only four or five are actually friends. The rest are just customers and their relatives.

When I marry again, it will not be for their approval. I’ll marry for love, and not give a damn what they think about my partner. Love, do you understand? That’s all they need to bring to the marriage, and it will be enough. Although, if the prospective mate has a child, say with red hair, that would be a bonus that puts them far above any others.”

Emotions danced across her face like wind through fall leaves. The last statement had her eyes narrowing down. “There better be no others. My hair might not be as red as Katie’s, but I’m still Irish and I have a temper, especially when it comes to someone coming between me and what I consider mine.”

Then she smiled and stuck her tongue out. “Maybe my bottom is the way to my head and heart. You might want to consider that spanking. I may like it. Then again, maybe not. Either way, it will definitely get my attention. Now that we’ve cleared the air, let’s talk about how to maintain a long distance relationship, at least for now. I may end up emigrating. And we need to talk about how to break the news to Katie that we have to go back, at least for a little while.”

She got quiet. “ I know I don’t have to say this, but any future with me includes Katie. If you’re the man I end up with, I expect you to do the right thing, and make all our names the same.”

She had stood, looking defiant, and her eyes naturally shifted to check on Katie, so the swat was totally unexpected. She twirled, fire dancing in her eyes. “What the hell was that for?”

I grinned, which ticked her off even more. “I tired of trying to reason with the top, so I’m taking the scenic route through the bottom. Did it sting? I sure hope so. I didn’t really care to do it. However, I have no problem making it a regular thing if you continue to make foolish statements. IF and when we get married, and we’re a ways from me asking, the very first thing after the service will be filing the adoption papers. Nod if you don’t want another swat.”

“Ye’ve a lot of nerve, boyo. I ought to ... wait, what did you just say?”

“I said, you dense little girl, that if we marry, I marry both of you. SHE WILL carry my name, or any nuptial plans will cease forthwith. DO ... I ... Need ... To ... Talk ... Slower?”

“Ye need, foolish man, to show more respect to your future intended, if there’s going to be any hope for us. Swat me again, and ye’d best sleep with one eye open.” Then she grinned, “that is, unlesss I really deserve one. In this case I understand the need, but don’t push it.”

We didn’t know it, but Katie had been awake for most of the conversation. She popped up grinning. “Da, did you really spank Mum?”

Sissy went about eight shades of red while I grinned. “Yes baby, I had to. She was being a bad Mum, and talking foolishness. You’ll never be bad enough to warrant a spanking, will you, baby?”

Katie smirked at her mother. “No Da, unlike some here, I’ll always be a good girl for you. Always. Do you believe me?”

“I do, my little darling. But just in case, we need to revisit this conversation, say about the time you leave for college. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Da. Now, what do we do with a bad Mum?”

Her eyes were flashing again, and I grinned. “Why, we love on her. Love is the best way to make a person do the right things, don’t you agree?”

She kind of melted into my arms. I was holding Katie so we got to do the group hug, and I’m pleases to say it lasted a long time, the spell broken only after Katie declared she wanted a snack.

The next four days were glorious. We took Katie to the zoo, and the next day we surprised my Mom and Maddie by arriving early in the morning, announcing we were going to spend the day at the giant amusement park close to their house, and if they had nothing pressing, would they like to join us? There was a moment of awkward silence before Maddy spoke.

“I wish you had warned us. I promised to spend the day with my boyfriend.”

“You can’t bring him along?”

Katie batted her eyes. I think maybe she had been exposed to Chelsea a little too much. “Please, Aunt Maddy. It will be the last time I see you before we have to go back.”

It had been a difficult discussion, including a few tears, but we got Katie to understand that they had to return to Ireland, at least for a little while. It took me promising her we would see each other soon to get her calmed down.

Maddy, of course, melted immediately and called her new boyfriend, announcing a change of plans. Katie looked at Mom.

“Will you please come too, Mathair Mhor?’

Mom was confused with the Gaelic, and Sissy, glowing red, translated. “It means grandmother.”

Mom immediately grabbed Katie and nearly crushed her with her hug. “Of course I will, my baby. But, I also had plans. Let me call him and cancel.

I smiled, realizing for the first time my mother was dating. It had been two years since my father had passed. Mom was still an attractive woman with a lot to offer, so it was no wonder she was enjoying male companionship.

“See if he’ll come. If you’re fond of him, we’d love to meet him.”

Mom went red, considering. “Are you sure? Your father...”

“My father would be proud you’re finding happiness. Now call, so we can leave.”

She made the call, and came back grinning. “He said he’d love to, and if we didn’t mind, he would like to bring his granddaughter. She’s a year older than Katie, so they’ll have someone to share rides with. Is that all right? I hope so, because he’s on the way.”

I just grinned while Katie enthused about a new friend. Forty-five minutes later we were on our way. I really liked Jerry, Mom’s ... boyfriend? Companion, whatever, he was three years younger, so we teased her a little about robbing the cradle. She glowed while Jerry grinned. He was an accountant, owned his own firm, and did a limited business in financial counseling. Apparently, he was pretty successful, judging by the Cadillac Escalade he was driving. Katie insisted she ride with him and Mom, to bond with her new friend, so Maddy and Sven (Sven? Really? He didn’t looked remotely Scandinavian.) rode with us. It started out with indifference, ending in mutual dislike by the end of the day.

He was totally self centered, ordering Maddy around like a servant. When he found out I was an artist, he grinned dismissvely and made a snide comment. He actually hit on Sissy a little, much to her disgust. By then Maddy was starting to see his true colors, and I knew the relationship would be over very soon.

“What do you make a year, Sven?”

He seemed surprised by the question, then kind of bragged he made almost a hundred grand a year. Maddy laughed. “Damon makes that much or better for one painting, and he does five or six a year, and could do more if he wanted. Still feel superior?”

He walked off in a huff, while Sissy and Maddy grinned. I seriously believe if he could have found another way home, he would have left us there.

Katie and her new friend Amber got along famously, riding, laughing, eating junk food. She was calling Mom Nana by then, and Jerry’s granddaughter called him Poppy, so she did to. It seemed to please him. The girls made us all get on a water ride, in something that was supposed to look like logs. I wondered why they insisted Sissy and I sit in the front, until we came off the first drop. Water sprayed everywhere when we hit the bottom, soaking us, while everyone else, sitting three logs back, remained dry. You could hear them laughing at us the rest of the ride.

We came out soaked, and Katie and Amber giggled like mad, until we caught them and gave them big hugs. Katie was squealing and laughing as I rubbed my chest all over her, getting her soaked as well. Sissy was doing the same thing to Amber, who was also laughing. They were two pretty exhausted little girls by the time the day was over, falling asleep in the back of the Escalade before we made the highway. Aside from Maddy’s beau, it was one of the best days of my life. He jumped right into his car, almost squealing tires as he left.

I looked at Maddy. “You all right?”

“Yes. This was a real eye opener for me. I thought he was a nice guy. Come to find out, he hated children, and told me plainly that whoever he married would have to agree to none. That sealed the deal for me. I think I pissed him off when I told him that on reflection that was a very good thing. I could not see humanity benefitting from having his genes passed on.”

We left shortly after, so they could get some rest. They promised faithfully they would be at the airport in two days to see them off.

It was an incredibly sad group at the airport that afternoon. I wasn’t my best, Sissy had kept me up all night, loving on me until I was drained. After the last round she sighed and snuggled to me. “I’m exhausted. Loving you can be pretty strenuous. But it was worth it. I needed to give you enough love to last for the three weeks we’ll be apart. But as soon as you get there and we get Katie down for the night, we’re going to start up again. Do you understand?”

“I hear and obey, O Queen of My Heart.”

She giggled and snuggled tighter. “I think perhaps you were an Irish poet in another life, honey. You always have just the right words.”

We were a pretty somber group the next morning. Katie sat in my lap and didn’t move through breakfast, only getting up when it was time to go.

Claire and Clayton, Chelsea and Henry, Mom, and Maddy, they were all there. After a tremendous amount of hugs and tears, they had to board. Katie had stayed in my arms the whole time except when she hugged the others. Sissy had to pry her off of me.

“Here baby,” I said, handing her Eoin. “He will help you get through the next three weeks. Listen to him and your Mum and the weeks will be over in no time. Remember, I had Justine set you up with painting lessons, and she’ll have your easel when you’re ready for it. I expect new masterpieces. I love you, Princess.”

The girls were sobbing, and when I told Katie I loved her it erupted into full wailing. I held Sissy to me so hard I’m surprised her ribs didn’t crack. I held her face in my hands one last time. “I love you, Sisoban O’Mallory, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my whole life. It’s said absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think that’s a lie. I could never love you more than I do right now, this second, and time and space could never change that.”

We stood and waved until they disappeared, and waited until the plane lifted off. I was surrounded by Chelsea, Clair, Mom, and Maddy, all hugging me. Clayton and Henry were patting my back. “Buck up, son. Three weeks will go by in no time.”

Man plans and God laughs. I didn’t know it was to be a long time befoe I saw Sissy again. If I had I would have never let them board that plane.