Painted Passion

by Latisha Brandon

  But Ashlyn needed to find a way to balance him, her family, friends, and her career. When had she last checked her cell phone? She was off the grid, her entire being wrapped up in Kevin. It wasn’t healthy. How much longer could she sustain being disconnected? She had gone from total immersion in her career to complete devotion to Kevin, trading one obsession for another. She was in desperate need of balance.

  Ashlyn walked to the dresser to retrieve a pair of jeans. She found a drawer full of cast-offs and selected a pair. She had already draped her wet clothes over the back of a chair, wanting them to dry as much as possible. Ashlyn crawled onto the bed, needing to rest her eyes. She took deep breaths, relaxing into the bedding. Summer was at an end, and Makayla couldn’t keep Fancy forever. It was so unlike her to shuck her responsibilities.

  She knew Makayla would tell her to live it up, enjoy the moment, but at some point play time had to come to an end. Kevin would think she didn’t have faith where their relationship could lead. In order for the two to be together they would have to fight many uphill battles. He would tell her he was worth the battle, but would that be before or after meeting her family? They would view him as egotistical, domineering, and unconventional. He would see them as elitist and boringly chaste. Not to mention the fact they were Catholic.

  Since meeting him, she had forgone her traditional twice-a-week attendance at mass. Her priorities were slowly slipping away. Had she hurled them out the window, along with her bra and panties? Ashlyn curled into the sheets, smelling his scent, a combination of sandalwood and lime, and a scent distinctive to only him. He was her obsession, and she was in so deep, she didn’t know if she could give him up.

  * * *

  Kevin dried the chairs with an old towel. He breathed deeply, savoring air that was crisp and free of the scents of the city. He sat and closed his eyes, crossing his feet at the ankles. He was home. Home was always wherever his father was. The Atlantic Ocean was less than an hour away, and Kevin swore he could feel an ocean breeze, reminding him of the time he and Ashlyn spent at the beach.

  His father’s voice spoke from out of the blue, a long time after they had settled into two outdoor wicker chairs. “The first time I saw your mother, I knew she would be the love of my life. I would sit at the pinball machine and watch her. She moved with the grace of a dancer. After she died…I never told a soul, but I felt guilty for years about taking her from the world she knew.”

  Kevin had never suspected his father’s guilty feelings. “You have nothing to feel guilty about Mom married you because she would never have accepted another. She told you that, and I believe her. So should you.”

  “Only now is the guilt fading. It took over ten lonely years just to reach this place. Zona isn’t your mother, and she would never try to be. This isn’t about you or Aaron. It’s about me having the courage to find someone. I’m content when I’m with her, and her kids warm my heart. I never thought I would find myself in this place ever again.”

  Paul took a long sip from his bottle, realizing this was the first time he’d shared a beer with his son. He’d waited until the last minute to tell Kevin about Zona because he’d known Kevin would resent her presence. Kevin had taken Adara’s death harder than Aaron, and it had been compounded by rejection from his grandfather. That had led to him becoming self-destructive, lashing out at his teachers, his father, and his brother. His mother was gone, and he was angry because her family didn’t seem to care.

  “How old is Zona? I think she may be a tad too young for you.”

  “She’s thirty-seven.”

  “And you’re forty-eight. Like I said, too young for you. By the way, where is the father of her kids?”

  “She lost her husband in the occupation of Afghanistan. She was pregnant with Allison at the time.”

  Kevin was speechless, prepared for a story of abandonment.

  “Only eleven years separate us. I’m not too old,” Paul added, his pride singed. She never expressed any reservations about the age difference.

  “I think that’s your little man talking, not your brain. And I’m damn sure not calling her mom,” Kevin said, drinking his beer to emphasize his point.

  “Watch your mouth. And who the hell asked you to?”

  “Watch your mouth, Mr. Paul,” Kevin said, imitating Allison Jane.

  “That’s Dad to you. Kevin, give them a chance, and give your old man a break. Zona and I each get something different from this relationship, something we’ve both been missing.”

  “Spare me the details of what you’re getting. Mom’s been gone for over ten years, so I know what I would be getting. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Kevin teased.

  “Watch your mouth, boy. This is a lady we’re speaking about,” Paul said, chastising his son.

  “Dad, you’ve got to stop calling me a boy. I’ve seen and done things that no mere boy could have survived.” Besides, he didn’t want his father calling him boy in front of Ashlyn.

  “I thought you were coming tomorrow,” Paul said. “Where’s Ashlyn? Has she abandoned you already? Your ego finally get in the way?”

  “I would have to say the same thing about Zona. I’m no different from you. I may have my mother’s face, but I have your disposition. Ashlyn’s upstairs, drying off. We got caught in a shower.”

  “This is the first time you’ve brought a young lady home. Why her?”

  “I think she may be my Adara, but only time will tell. Her family’s totally different from ours. I think she’s afraid to let me meet them.”

  “How different?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t think she would be sitting on a porch drinking beer with her dad.” Kevin changed the subject. “Are you prepared to be a father to Zona’s kids? That’s a huge responsibility. What if the two of you decide to separate and the kids have grown attached?”

  “Since when have you become so wise?” Paul asked, profoundly proud of the man his son had become. “We have discussed those options. I enjoy her kids. I like having them around. Allison Jane gazes at me with her big eyes, and though Marcus pretends he could care less, every time they come, he tags along.

  “He knows a lot about you, the company you helped start while in Vermont, and your paintings. He’s the one who told me about your great reviews. He even sent me a picture of you and Ashlyn attending a benefit concert hosted by Herbie Hancock. She’s very striking, but still surprising.” He left the door open, waiting for Kevin to elaborate.

  “She’s eight years older and very rarely lets me forget it. She’s well-read, intelligent, competitive, and highly successful, my equal on many levels, but so much more. I feel, though, as if I’m fighting a clock. Her life is not in Philadelphia. It’s down South. She travels extensively, to some pretty dangerous places, places I would be uncomfortable with her going, but I could never ask her not to go without her resenting me.” He felt relieved to have finally spoken his fears aloud. Maybe Vlad was right. Kevin was used to dating women who waited on him. No matter how archaic that sounded, it was the truth. All his past relationships had been based on the physical, and all parties involved were aware of that. Ashlyn was the first he desired more from, but she might simply be testing the waters. Karma was a bitch.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ashlyn carried herself with an inbred casual chic vibe. She wore Kevin’s light denim jeans low on her hips with a pair of red ballet slippers. She wrapped Kevin’s white dress shirt around her waist, pinning it in the back. Around her neck hung various strings of wooden Japa Mala beads. She was learning a valuable lesson in incorporating the unique items she picked up along her travels and applying them to her wardrobe. She was developing a quirky, but significant, look. Her carriage was fluid, and she brought to mind a gypsy, performing the dance of the seven veils.

  Without even realizing her effect on the opposite sex, she was steeped in her womanliness. Part biblical mythology and lyrical folklore, she was magnetic. Her makeup was in tones of bronze and nude. Her brightened hai
r curled wildly from her scalp, the type of hair a woman could play with while bashfully flirting. A man dreamed of such hair gracing his pillow. Any who met her instantly envied her high cheekbones. They were sharp and made her look unapproachable until she smiled.

  When she met Kevin’s father, she smiled lovingly at him, and Kevin fell completely in love with her. She extended her hand and then laughed when she was engulfed in a bear hug.

  “Dad, let her go.” Kevin was embarrassed by his father behaving like a pawing old man.

  “Don’t pay Kevin any mind, I enjoy hugs,” Ashlyn said. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Mr. Dunmore.” Ashlyn kissed both his cheeks, gladdened by his greeting.

  “Ashlyn, a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman.” Paul kissed her hand.

  “Now I know where Kevin and Aaron get their legendary charm.”

  Kevin couldn’t believe the way his father was behaving. He wondered if he were going through a midlife crisis. “Let’s go inside so I can introduce you to Zona.”

  Paul led the way. “I think you’ll really like her.”

  Ashlyn heard the soles of her shoes hit tile flooring. The wooden cabinets were lightly stained, with glass fronts to highlight the detailing. Inset lighting added interest. The appliances were top-notch stainless steel, the walls a warm gray-brown, and on every available surface, fresh herbs and potted plants. “Your taste is so different from your son’s. Your home is very inviting, Mr. Dunmore.”

  “Please call me Paul. Kevin’s taste leans toward the austere.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “There’s nothing stern or sober about my home. And Ashlyn, what about all the jars of potpourri you’ve placed on every counter and table? Not to mention the goose down comforter on the bed or the knitted quilt at the bottom of the bed, plus the one on the back of my sofa.” His home was slowly beginning to resemble a flea market. She was begging him to take her antiquing the next Saturday. He knew if he caved, those pieces would grace his living room. She ignored his sense of organization. He kept finding the heavy cast iron frying pans on the sauté pan shelf.

  “I haven’t eaten meat in over a month.” He was feeling protein-deprived. This had to be love. He was starting to forget what red meat looked like. How could a man possibly survive on fish alone?

  Ashlyn walked to him, her eyes worried. She placed the back of her hand along his cheek. “Kevin, baby, why are you shouting?”

  “I’m shouting because I’m hungry. Dad, please tell me that you’re grilling steaks tomorrow.”

  “Why do you have to fall back into old habits?”

  “I promise to warn you ahead of time. You can run upstairs while I dig into a rare steak.”

  She nudged him away.

  Marcus was the first to approach her, guiltily looking at Kevin’s dad. “Ms. Farrell, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  Ashlyn placed the tip of her finger under his chin, lifting his face. “All of that false male bravado is never needed. You are handsome enough to attract any number of young ladies. Just flash them your engaging smile…and give yourself time.” Ashlyn bent slightly, because he was not quite as tall as she was.

  She meant to kiss his cheek, but Marcus, a born flirt, turned his face quickly, his lips connecting with hers. He would blend with the Dunmore men seamlessly. Ashlyn jumped backwards before Marcus got the chance to hug her waist. His eyes were bright, and he appeared smug, but Ashlyn found it difficult to chastise him.

  “Marcus, you never kiss someone else’s date. I’m going to let this one pass, because you’re behaving like it was your fist kiss.” Kevin grabbed him and put him in a headlock.

  Ashlyn finally saw the woman all the discussion centered around earlier. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and she mouthed the words “thank you” before Ashlyn approached her.

  “I would have thought he was a Dunmore,” Ashlyn told Zona. “I’m Ashlyn Farrell, by the way.”

  “Zona Russell.” She looked down, and Ashlyn followed her eyes. “This is my daughter Allison Jane.”

  Allison Jane possessed an expressive face, the kind Ashlyn felt driven to capture on film. Her every emotion was broadcast across her countenance. Ashlyn stooped, meeting Allison Jane on her level. “Could I take your picture?” She looked to Zona. “If it’s all right with you, of course.”

  Zona appeared flabbergasted and honored. “Yes, of course. But why Allison? She won’t sit still for very long.”

  “I’m a photojournalist by trade. And every once in a while I find someone I feel led to capture on film. This time around it happens to be Allison Jane. Most of the time it’s an object or light, something subtle and unappreciated.”

  “I’ve seen your work. I find you what you do amazing. The images you captured after Katrina…you were my eyes.”

  Ashlyn never knew what to say in that kind of situation. It was why she loved her job. Her head lowered, she said, “Thank you.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not in Northern Africa.”

  Ashlyn’s head shot up. What had she missed while playing house with Kevin? “What do you mean? What’s going on?” she asked. She felt Kevin move to her side, his hand at the small of her back. Whatever Zona was about to tell her, he already knew. Was he worried about her reaction?”

  Zona looked at her as if she had been living under a rock. “Civil unrest, the military there firing on protestors, not to mention the decision made by NATO.”

  Ashlyn placed the palm of her hand in the middle of her forehead. Had she hidden that far from reality? She ignored Kevin calling her name. “Where’s my phone?” Her frantic hands beat at her pockets, but these were not even her clothes. “Where’s my phone?” She excused herself, walked quickly out of the den, and ran up the stairs.

  Kevin spoke from behind her. “Ashlyn, listen to me.”

  She spun, facing him. What could he possibly say?

  “Calm down and check your purse. I’m pretty sure it has to be in there.” He watched her grab her purse from the bed and scatter the items inside on the bedding.

  She found it, but was frustrated by the slow process of it coming on. She felt as if she were coming out of a coma, breathing heavily as if it were her first on her own in too long a time.

  “Sweetie, you have to calm down. Give me the phone. What’s the name the number is programmed under?”

  Her hand held the phone tightly, as if it were a lifeline. She pushed the button for voicemail. Twenty messages filled her box. She turned her back on him, listening to every last one. Calls from Dawn, simply checking in; her mother and father, asking how her vacation was going; Makayla, telling her about Fancy’s progress at obedience school and a new dirty joke she’d heard; her aunt and uncle, discussing Thanksgiving back in Chicago; Bernie, inviting her to a party at his family’s ranch, celebrating his thirtieth birthday; and her agent, William Fitzgerald. She called him back.

  “William, I got your messages.”

  “Lenny, my boy.” William always called Ashlyn ‘Lenny’. She was the closest thing he had to a son. “Where in the hell have you been?”

  Ashlyn could well imagine the vein in his temple throbbing. “On a self-imposed vacation. I told you this at the end of April.”

  “Yes, but I never believed you. We’ve been down this road before, and you last usually only three weeks.”

  “This time was different,” she said, sneaking a peek at Kevin over her shoulder. He stood on the opposite side of the bed and pointed to the bedroom door, letting her know he was leaving the room. Before he left, Ashlyn pulled the phone away from her ear and said to him, “Please give my apologies to Paul and Zona, but I had to return this call.” She turned away from Kevin and resumed talking to William.

  “I could use your insight.” William Fitzgerald had first met Ashlyn while he worked as an editorial columnist for the Atlanta Journal Constitution. She was an intern and fresh out of college. She’d started off covering feel-good stories, the garden party set, and sensationalized D-
list celebrities residing and partying in Atlanta. But even with that mindless drivel, her talents were quickly brought to the attention of the powers that be, and she escalated through the ranks. By the time she was twenty-two she was flying to Washington covering the Hill, natural disasters plaguing the United States, financial corruption court cases, and protestors of any form. When she was twenty-five, National Geographic had called. It was the call she had been waiting for.

  She took William and Bernie with her when she left the paper. Bernie was partying with Euro pop stars at night, and barely working as a receptionist for the paper during the day. A member of Generation X was hammering to take baby boomer William’s place, and William was tired of fighting it. William had negotiated her contract with National Geographic and every other news source that followed. She called him a mean ole man and a sly old fox, but it was a term of endearment. She relied on William to keep her organized, make travel plans, and use his contacts to get her into risky foreign territories.

  William was practically hyperventilating with the thought of her once again entering a war-torn danger zone. “You can capture the after-affects, the rebuilding process. Time magazine would pay big bucks for those images. Not that you need the money,” he whispered. And it was true. Ashlyn could afford to retire and never work again, take pictures for a hobby or create a coffee table book. “What about it? Interested?”

  * * *

  It was getting late and Kevin had returned. He slipped between the cool, black cotton sheets, devoid of clothing. Waiting for her to get off the phone, his face showed calm, but he was deeply disturbed. He could hear her agent on the other side. He found it bizarre that William called Ashlyn ‘son’ and referred to her as ‘Lenny’. To him she was a woman who relished her gender. She could be womanly and yet chisel down walls erected by insecure males in her field.