The Art of Hiding

by Kathleen Grace

  She covered her face with her cold hands. “I hate this side of you. I don’t like jealousy and possessiveness. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Oh my God, Robert was nuts. How can you compare me to him?” Stephen asked hoarsely.

  Kelly flinched at his wounded tone. Stephen wasn’t really anything like the man she’d come here to Sea Light Cliffs to escape. Was he? Her mind wandered back to the past. No, no one would ever fool her again like he had, like Robert had. She tried not to think about him too often. But lately Robert was very much on her mind.

  It had been four years since she’d been engaged to Robert. She wondered if she’d met him now, if he could fool her like he had when she’d been younger. He’d always seemed too good to be true, and eventually she’d figured out she was right. While handsome and charming on the surface, there had been something very wrong with Robert.

  She shivered as she allowed herself to remember the past. Robert had met her when she was just starting her painting career. She’d arrived in New York, young, naive, but extremely talented. She’d been lucky and met some people with connections. Through those friends, she’d managed to snag a show of her paintings at one of New York’s trendiest gallery’s, The Frame Fatal. Robert had been there. He’d spotted her and descended like a dark shadow. She’d only been nineteen at the time, and she’d found the attentions of a seemingly suave and experienced man, flattering.

  They’d gotten engaged after just six months, and the flattery turned to controlling and degrading behavior. Her career was taking off as she gained more and more attention for her paintings. But as the attention increased on her, Robert became more and more possessive. He’d show up everywhere she went, creating dramatic scenes and accusing her of affairs.

  He’d disappear for days on end, never telling her where he was going. Her stomach clenched as she remembered women calling at all hours of the day and night, hanging up if Kelly answered. But Robert would always somehow convince her she was just paranoid, and she’d end up feeling foolish for doubting him.

  During one of their blowups, she’d discovered that her meeting with Robert had been anything but accidental. He’d seen her picture in the paper, announcing one of her shows, and he’d become obsessed with meeting her. He’d seemed to view her as his property, his personal gold mine. When she’d finally worked up the courage to break up with him, he’d turned even more violent. Kelly had even gone so far as to obtain a restraining order against him, but he had violated that court document time after time. He’d threatened to kill her, and the authorities had seemed unable to protect her.

  That’s when Kelly decided, if she wanted to live, she needed to take matters into her own hands and disappear. She’d bolted from New York on the night of one of her big shows and had abandoned a promising future. She’d felt she had little choice because her instincts told her, it was run or die. She’d let her family know she was safe, but wouldn’t disclose exactly where she was, for fear Robert would try to use them to get to her. They kept in contact with phone calls and letters, minus return addresses. But she hadn’t seen them in years.

  When she had first arrived in Sea Light Cliffs, she’d changed her name and taken a job as a waitress in one of the local restaurants to support herself. That was when she’d met Gayle. They’d clicked immediately, and as their friendship grew, she’d eventually told her new friend the real story of how she’d ended up in Sea Light Cliffs.

  Eventually, as she began to feel safer, the desire to paint returned. She’d reached out to a local gift store about selling some of her newest work. After all, painting was in her very soul, and expressing herself through her art wasn’t something she wanted to let go of forever. She needed to paint like she needed to breathe.

  A local gallery owner, Fred Quimby, had seen her work and recognized it as the work of Gina Hughes, Kelly’s birth name. He’d approached her about giving up her waitressing job and selling to him full time. He’d promised to keep her secret and completely understood her refusal to ever do public shows. She’d needed anonymity, and he’d obliged. In the three and a half years she’d worked with him, Fred had never been anything but generous and supportive.

  After a few years of Robert not finding her, she’d finally stopped looking over her shoulder constantly. She began to actually feel like maybe she had truly escaped Robert, and that life would be happy again. She didn’t care about fame. She just wanted to paint and live a normal life.

  “Kelly.” Stephen’s frustrated voice snapped her back to reality.

  “Sorry.” She turned to him with a weak smile. “Of course you’re not like Robert. I… have almost forgotten how horrible he was.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Maybe I’m not perfect, but he was a monster.”

  Kelly sighed and turned to look out the window. The sky was a delicate pink, streaked with light blue. The tide was out, and the beach was lined with broken shells and sandpipers hurriedly pecking the wet sand for a meal. She was safe here. No one but Fred, Stephen and Gayle knew the true story of who she was. She trusted them, right? She had to trust someone or she would lose her mind.

  “Maybe it’s too late.” She laughed at herself, rubbing her face with her hands.

  “Don’t say that Kelly, it’s not too late.” Stephen pleaded, his breathing unsteady.

  “No, I was talking to myself.” She faced him. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Stephen looked pale and nauseated. “Are you okay?”

  “Not… not really. I think I’m going to be sick—” He jerked open the car door and tumbled out onto the ground. He managed to scramble away from the car, and when he reached a patch of weeds, he vomited.

  After about ten minutes of retching on the side of the road, she helped him back into the car, and drove him to his house. She struggled to get him up the steps. His legs were unsteady, and he leaned heavily on her, moaning. She got him into bed, gave him some Tylenol, and called herself a cab.

  She sat on the edge of his bed studying him. His breathing was uneven, and sweat glistened on his brow. “That will teach you,” she said, stroking his blonde hair. She heard the honk of the cab downstairs, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and hurried outside.

  By the time she arrived at the cottage, the sun was setting in the sky. She let herself in, switching on every light in the house. She felt spooked after her trip down memory lane, and the lights made her feel less alone. She went to the kitchen, poured some water in the teakettle, and collapsed on the couch in the living room.

  She jumped as the phone rang beside her, and she quickly picked up the receiver. “Hello?” Her voice was quiet.

  There was a surprised gasp on the other end of the phone, but then silence.

  “Hello? Is there somebody there?” Kelly repeated.

  Someone cleared their throat. “Um… yes. Sorry, I must have the wrong number.” The voice was confused and female.

  “No problem.” Kelly set down the phone, but after a few seconds, it rang again. She frowned and answered once more. “Hello?”

  “Well, this is so odd…” The same female voice came over the line. “I’m positive this is the right number.”

  “Whom are you trying to reach?” Kelly asked patiently.

  “I am trying to reach a Peter Barris. Sorry. I must have written the number down wrong or something.”

  Kelly said, “Oh. Well, actually, you have the right number. Peter is staying here.”

  “What?” The voice sounded less friendly suddenly.

  Kelly laughed nervously. “Yeah. It’s kind of a long story.”

  “I’m all ears.” The voice was terse.

  The woman’s tone annoyed her, but she decided to ignore that, and try to be polite. “Well, there was a kind of mix up, and long story short, we’re now roommates.”

  There was a sort of gulp on the line. “I’m sorry, darling… could you repeat that? I thought I heard you say you two were living together.” All warmth was gone from the vo
ice.

  “Well, yeah.” Kelly’s face was warm. “It’s just temporary.”

  “Peter Barris is living with you?”

  Isn’t that what I just said?

  “Yes. But like I said… it’s just—”

  “Never mind. May I please speak to Peter?” The voice was now curt, and obviously not interested in talking to Kelly anymore.

  She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the prickle of irritation that ran through her. “Actually, he isn’t here at the moment.”

  “Oh, really?” The tone of the caller was suspicious.

  “I’m not lying.” She laughed gruffly. “If you want to leave a message, I’ll see that he gets it.”

  “Tell him Constance called. He’ll know the number.” The caller hung up abruptly.

  Kelly frowned. Constance? That wasn’t a very common name. The woman Stephan had met for lunch had had the same name. Was it simply a coincidence that Stephen and Peter both knew a woman named Constance?

  The sound of the teakettle squealing broke in to her thoughts. She went into the kitchen, and she poured herself a cup of hot water. She swished the tea bag back and forth, absentmindedly trying to figure out how Peter and Stephen might know the same woman.

  Eventually she gave up trying to figure it all out, and she wrote down the message for Peter, and taped it to the coffee maker. Then she went about preparing a vegetable stir fry for dinner. She was picking at it when headlights lit the back of the house.

  A few seconds later Peter opened the door, plastic grocery bags hanging from his arms, and one from his mouth. Kelly jumped up to take some bags from him, and he deposited the others on the counter top.

  “Thanks,” he said breathlessly.

  “No problem. Are there anymore?” She offered helpfully.

  “Do you honestly think I’d have come in like a pack mule, if I planned on making more than one trip?”

  She smiled. “Maybe you’re just crazy.” She was relieved he didn’t seem mad at her anymore.

  “I might be.” He gave her a speculative glance. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

  “Yep.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll help you put these away.”

  “I won’t argue. Especially since I don’t know where anything goes.”

  They worked together as a team, with Kelly directing him where the items should go. When they were finished putting everything away, Kelly gestured to the stir fry she’d cooked.

  “I made way too much, if you’re hungry?” She offered

  “No thanks. I already ate.” He spied the note on the coffee maker and gave her a sideways look.

  “I see you’ve found your message.” Kelly hoped she sounded nonchalant.

  “When did she call?” His tone was guarded.

  “About a half hour ago. She seemed pretty surprised you had a roommate.” She watched him under her lashes, but he kept his face blank.

  “Is that right?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a couple of phone calls.” He went toward his room, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. It was obvious he didn’t want to make his calls in front of her.

  Kelly finished her meal and washed the dishes. She then went to her room to change into her lounging around clothes. As she entered her room, she could hear Peter’s voice through the walls. She couldn’t help her curiosity, and she stilled, so that she could hear him better.

  “How did you get this house number? I told you to only call my cell.” Peter’s voice was hushed.

  Silence followed as the other person probably responded to him.

  “I told you, it just came up. I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. I didn’t think it was urgent that I tell you about my living situation.” He sounded impatient. “Focus on your end of things and I’ll focus on mine.”

  She felt guilty listening in. She valued her privacy too much to keep eavesdropping, so she switched on some music as she washed up. Then she changed into her comfy clothes and settled down on her bed to read. As much as she loved the mystery she was reading, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the book. She set the paperback on the nightstand and lay back against the soft pillows.

  There were no sounds from Peter’s room now, and it was almost as if she were once again alone in her cottage. The idea of being alone again filled her with a type of melancholy. She reminded herself that being alone was good. It was safer. People could be so deceitful. No matter how nice Peter seemed, he obviously had secrets. It was important to be on her guard so that no one made a fool of her again.

  ****

  The next morning, Kelly awoke to the sound of whistling, and the delicious smell of frying bacon. She stretched and climbed languidly out of bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and slipped her feet into scuffs. Then she stood and pulled on her pink cotton robe. With her new roomie Peter, gone were the days when she could run around wearing almost nothing.

  She was just vain enough that she checked her reflection quickly before venturing out to the kitchen. There she found Peter, busy frying eggs and scooping large thick slices of crisp bacon onto plates. He noticed her, and gave an admiring glance, before pointing toward the already set table.

  “Please sit. My name is Peter, and I’ll be your waiter this morning.”

  Kelly laughed. “What’s all this? You certainly didn’t have to cook me breakfast.” She sat obediently as she spoke.

  “I didn’t really intend too, but I started cooking, and pretty soon I had enough for a football team.” He grinned. “So, I figured, I’d share my feast.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “Hope you like your eggs fried?” he asked, spatula poised midair.

  “I like eggs anyway they can be cooked. In fact, I love food anyway you can cook it. Wait. Scratch that. I don’t even necessarily require that food be cooked,” she said trying to keep her face dead pan.

  “I see. That must be why you are so gigantic,” Peter said, equally dead pan, taking in her slender figure.

  Kelly smiled and dug into her plate. Coffee followed, with a generous scoop of creamer. Peter sat across from her, and cleaned his plate too, sitting back after he’d finished.

  “What sort of plans do you have today?” he inquired.

  “I absolutely must do some work,” she said, almost panicked. It would never do to wait until the last second to try and finish all her paintings.

  He gave a low and throaty laugh. “You sound scared. Have you had enough of my adventures?”

  “Actually, I quite enjoyed yesterday.” She paused. “The first half of yesterday anyway.”

  A mix of emotions seemed to play over his features, and he started to say something, but then stopped himself. Instead, he stood, and started clearing the table.

  “For goodness sakes, at least let me do the dishes.” She jumped up to help. Running soapy water, she placed the dishes carefully in the sink. The cottage was not modern enough to have a dishwasher yet. Kelly had never really minded, since she was generally the only one eating here. Stephen always wanted to eat out, and so she’d rarely had a lot of dishes to clean.

  They made a good team, and soon the kitchen was sparkling. Kelly went to take her shower and get ready for the day. She was just pulling her painting smock over her head when she heard the phone ring. She opened her door to hear who it was, in case it was for her.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you want to blow everything? Of course you shouldn’t come up here. I thought we went over this last night. Why the hell do you keep calling me on this phone? Then leave a message on my cell, and I’ll call you back when I can. You stay in town and finish up what you need to do, I can handle it from here myself.” Peter’s voice was hushed.

  There was silence while the caller answered.

  “I’m not losing my focus, and that’s none of your business. It’s a little more complicated than we originally thought.”

  Kelly shut her door quietly. Wh
at was Peter Barris up to, and why was he always being so secretive? Was he was just being polite? Maybe he didn’t want this person to tie up Kelly’s personal phone? Just because he wanted to get his calls on his cell phone, that didn’t make him a spy, right?

  She was mostly suspicious of him because she really didn’t know a thing about him. Why was he so tight lipped about what he wrote? Fred had said he’d read some of Peter’s work. She could call him and pump him for information. She promised herself, that as soon as she was alone, she’d give Fred a call. But for now, she needed to work.

  She spent a few hours painting, and when her back began to ache, she decided to take a short break. She’d heard Peter drive away earlier, so she opened the door to her studio, and called his name. “Peter?” She wanted to make sure he wasn’t home before she called Fred.

  When Peter didn’t answer her, she went to call Fred.

  “Hello Kelly.” Fred’s friendly voice answered. “Check didn’t bounce I hope?” He laughed in a jovial way.

  “Of course not.” She smiled. “I’m actually not calling about business.”

  “Well what can I do for you?”

  She gave a tense laugh. “Actually, I have a few questions for you. I… I was wondering about what sort of books Peter Barris writes? You said you’d read some of them, and I’m curious.”

  “You mean the fellow you’re rooming with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well let’s see, he’s very good at getting into the heads of the people he writes about.”

  “You mean his characters?”

  “No, No, dear. He writes non-fiction. He writes biographies,” Fred continued amiably.

  “Biographies. So he writes about celebrities?”

  “Not exactly. Generally, he writes about less well known figures. He focuses on people who have gained attention, but who are more under the radar.”

  “I see.” Kelly gave a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry for all the questions. He’s just so secretive it makes me twice as curious. But I remembered you’d said you read some of his stuff, so I thought you might have some information on him.”

  “Of course dear. I’m happy to help.”