Soul Unique

by Gun Brooke

  “Penelope? Edward is awake and is asking for you.” The young caregiver looked apologetic. I glanced at Hayden, who ignored the interruption.

  “Thank you, Tina.” Penelope nodded and stood, looking stiff as she rolled her shoulders. “How’s your work coming along, Hayden? You’ve worked with such focus, I’m very curious.”

  “You can take a look.” Hayden gestured to the canvas.

  Penelope and I stepped closer, and I found myself staring at the painting. Hayden had managed to sketch, lay down background, and paint a great deal of Penelope’s face and hair. She’d barely hinted at the flowers and plants so far, but the details of Penelope’s face, her dreamy-yet-strong expression, drew me in as if it was indeed filled with the older woman’s life force. How Hayden had been able to paint every detail with this meticulous care, I had no idea, even if I had followed every brushstroke. Penelope’s hair gleamed in the sun, her eyes radiated such brightness, yet shadows lurked when I looked closer.

  “That’s how you see me, child?” Penelope whispered. “You have a talent…no, more than that. You have a gift. The way you tell the story of my presence, of the now I live in, is amazing.”

  “May I leave the easel and the painting here until I can continue?” Hayden looked as if Penelope’s praise hadn’t touched her at all, but I could tell from the way she stood there, no brushes in her hands at the moment, her face so relaxed and that enigmatic little smile in place, that she was content.

  “Certainly, Hayden. Do you have anything to cover it with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tina and I need to tend to Edward.” Penelope pressed both hands into the small of her back with a wry smile. “It’s quite the workout. Keeps me fit in my old age.”

  “You’ve been very hospitable, Penelope. Thank you.” I extended my hand to her, but Penelope took me by the shoulders and kissed my cheek. Not a polite air kiss, but a real one.

  “You’re most welcome. And you two can pop in anytime. Don’t wait too long. I loved having you here.”

  “We’ll be back in a few days.” I thought I could promise this, as I knew Hayden was itching to work on the portrait.

  “All days but Thursdays and Saturdays,” Hayden said again. She wiped her hands on a rag, which she folded into a neat square and placed on the ledge of the easel. Her hands were still stained, but I figured she could wash up later at my house.

  Penelope repeated the gesture again, kissing Hayden’s cheek. I held my breath, but Hayden merely grew a bit rigid. We began walking toward the foyer when a voice bellowing from upstairs made us jump.

  “Penny! Penny!” A male voice that had to be Edward’s roared. “Damn woman, where are you? Who locked me up in here?”

  “Oh, my. Got to dash.” Penelope hurried up the stairs, and I heard Tina try to calm the agitated old man.

  As we let ourselves out through the front door, Hayden’s furrowed brow showed her concern.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Why did Mr. Moore—Edward—assume Penelope locked him up? Doesn’t he realize she’s just trying to keep him safe?”

  “I think he’s too affected by the Alzheimer’s to understand. He’s forgotten big portions of his life and tries still to make sense of it all.”

  “Nana often acts out too.”

  “That’s different. Your grandmother is still herself, even if her speech is impaired and her body affected. She still has her memories of her life and of you. When she demonstrates frustration, it’s because she mourns that her life didn’t turn out the way she’d counted on and hoped.”

  “And I can’t do anything to help her. I tried to talk to her doctors, but even if I’m listed as her next of kin and she signed the medical power of attorney to me, they claim I can’t manage her care at home. Nana always said I knew her and her wishes better than anyone. I should be able to make things better for her, but I’m failing.” Hayden’s jaw worked after she stopped talking. Her eyes filled with tears and she stopped just outside Penelope’s gate.

  “You’re not failing anyone.” I spoke with all the conviction I could muster. Her expression gutted me, and I swore to keep that expression off her face in the future if possible. She had also answered one of my yet unspoken questions. No one could give medical power of attorney to someone who’d been declared legally incompetent. “I have a few suggestions for you to think over, and I hope you’ll find them as exciting as I do. It might be something you can share with your nana next Saturday. Something she’ll enjoy hearing.”

  Wiping at her eyes, Hayden cleared her throat. “What?”

  “You like my rooftop studio, right?” I placed a gentle hand at the small of Hayden’s back, ushering her toward my house.

  “Yes.”

  “If you were staying in one of my guest rooms, you’d be able to use it whenever you wanted.” There. I’d voiced my idea out loud. I was aching as every single muscle group in my body tensed while anticipating her answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Eh…yes, you understand, or yes, you want to move in with me?” Damn, I blushed at my choice of words.

  “Yes. I want to move in with you. For how long?”

  Forever. I nearly said it out loud but stopped before I made a complete fool of myself. “For as long as you want.”

  “All right. I’d like that.”

  “Your mother will blow a fuse.” I liked the idea of Leyla imploding, but it wasn’t fun to imagine Hayden caught in the crossfire.

  “I doubt if her anger will affect the fuse boxes. She’s not telekinetic. Just loud.” Hayden wasn’t joking.

  “If you insist,” I said, and smiled to ease the mood. “So you want to stay with me even if it sends you on a collision course with your mother?”

  “Yes. And the second?”

  “What? Oh, yes. The second thing. Would you want to show two of your paintings in Chicago in twelve days?”

  “Which ones?”

  Good question. Hayden hadn’t declined, but perhaps that depended on which paintings she would want to show. “The one with the girl and the white picket fence, and any other painting you choose.” This was a gamble, I realized, but it would show me which of her paintings Hayden valued the most.

  “I’ll pick four and you will choose from them. I’m not good at putting together a gallery showing. This is your area of expertise.” Hayden walked up the flagstone path to my door. “I’ll take some of my paintings from Nana’s house to the gym hall.” She looked determined and apprehensive. Perhaps she was reluctant to let more work be in her mother’s presence.

  “Why not ship them directly here? You have only a few suitcases with personal stuff at the gym hall. You could pick a day, and I’ll come and get you and your things over here.” Everything was moving so fast now, I felt dizzy.

  “How about tomorrow? I can manage. I have Nana’s car.”

  After Hayden cleaned her hands in my mudroom, we moved to the living room, where she sat on the far end of the couch. I sat down on the other end of it. “Works for me. I’m at the gallery until six p.m. I’ll text you after I drive home.”

  “I’ll be ready with my suitcases and the picket-fence painting.” Hayden sounded breathless now. “Am I going to have a room of my own again…and a real bed? It’s been so long.”

  I ached for her and the way she looked, so forlorn and hopeful at the same time. I scooted closer to her. “You’re going to have a room, a bed, a closet, a bathroom, and most important, I imagine, a studio.”

  “And you.” Hayden looked at me with wide eyes. “You’ll be there too.”

  If she hadn’t said “and you” in such a breathless manner, or looked at me with stormy eyes, I might have been able to stick to my noble intentions. Or perhaps that’s a damn lie, because all I knew was how gorgeous and alluring she was and how I adored everything about her. Lacing my fingers through Hayden’s hair, I slid them along her jawline and reveled in her silky complexion. “Yes, you have me,” I murmured, and kisse
d her full lips. God, yes, she sure had me.

  So soft, her lips grew even more pliant as I pressed my mouth to hers. The kiss was better than any other I could remember. Hayden parted her lips and pressed them more firmly against mine, showing me the kiss was welcome. Most important, she wasn’t freaking out.

  “This okay?” I murmured, my lips still on hers. “Mmm?”

  “Yes.” Hayden was out of breath, as was I, and she leaned against me.

  As much as I wanted to pull her into a closer embrace, I was well aware this was a big step for both of us. No, huge. I had no idea what type of relationships Hayden might have had before she moved to the school. I doubted her nana had been the type to shield her from life. Hayden appeared innocent in some ways, but though she was different from most women her age, regardless of sexual orientation, she wasn’t necessarily inexperienced. No matter what, I had to use caution, as our future relationship mattered to me more than I could say. It wasn’t for the art and our professional collaboration, or at least that was a very small part of what I felt. I had come so far in my self-awareness I knew I was falling for her. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up hurting Hayden badly, and that would shred my heart.

  Pulling back a fraction of an inch, I cupped Hayden’s cheeks and smoothed my thumbs across her cheekbones. Her features were delicate but with sharp planes and angles, giving her a strong charisma. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but nobody could meet her silver-gray eyes, now more of a dark slate, and not be spellbound. Her long, thick eyelashes and her straight, dark eyebrows framed them beautifully.

  Hayden’s full lips moved, and she leaned forward as if trying to capture my lips. I kissed her back, a quick peck with closed lips, then smiled. In this very moment I was so damn happy—an unusual feeling for me, which felt as alien as it was wonderful.

  “You’re so lovely, and the way you kiss is bound to go to my head,” I said, and moved my thumbs up and smoothed along her eyebrows. “You’re amazing.”

  “I want to kiss you again,” Hayden said, holding on to my shirt with strong fists, pulling me closer.

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do, but we need to be careful, Hayden.”

  “Why?”

  “If we move too fast, we could both get hurt. I’d absolutely loathe hurting you, darling.” The term of endearment came out before I realized what I meant to say.

  “I don’t want to hurt you either, but I might.” Hayden’s eyes lost their glitter.

  “That goes for me too, but if we both acknowledge it’s not intentional, we should be able to talk it through.” Heeding my own words, I had to ask her the most basic question or I might set myself up for immeasurable heartache down the road. “Hayden, you must recognize I’m a lesbian. Do you identify yourself as one too, or…?” I prayed she would confirm this point.

  “Yes. Nobody else has asked me up front, but judging from my reaction to the female form, yes, I am,” Hayden answered promptly. “For artwork, the male form is just as interesting and beautiful, but as a potential mate, I learned several years ago it’s not for me.” She leaned her cheek into my hand and gazed at me with longing. “I think the term is correct. I respond sexually to you.”

  “Oh, God, you do try my self-control.” I chuckled and decided that any more intimate questions had to wait. I was already on fire and it was too much too soon—I didn’t want to mix these breathtaking emotions with what I hoped and wished for her professionally. Something told me I was facing quite the challenge if Hayden was attracted to me and decided to act on her feelings.

  “You’re holding back. It’s your protective side. I’m not as fragile as you think.” Hayden smiled now but had stopped trying to get closer.

  “Perhaps. Just indulge me. Look at it this way: it shows I truly care.” I hoped she could understand what I meant. I wasn’t trying to act superior or as if I knew best. Or maybe that last part wasn’t entirely true. I assumed I had more life experience than Hayden did, which was true when it came to years. When it came to variety, Hayden had lived through things I couldn’t even imagine, so it was a matter of perception.

  “You’re beautiful,” Hayden murmured. She was still leaning into me, but in a relaxed manner now. “Your face tells a story, and your symmetrical features create the type of beauty painters have recognized for centuries.”

  Her romantic words, uttered with such typical honesty, stirred a new set of rampaging emotions in me. I kissed her forehead and then her lips. When I raised my head, I found Hayden had managed to drag me closer. I relented and just sat there with her, unable to remember when I’d last held someone like this. I’ve never been comfortable with cuddling for any long period of time, but with Hayden, the nearness felt natural.

  Images of a furious Leyla set on destroying things for Hayden crept into my mind. Determined to stop her from interfering, I nuzzled the top of Hayden’s hair, inhaling her clean scent as I pushed away the dark thoughts that threatened to ruin the moment. Soon enough I had to drive her back to the school, but I told myself it was just for one night.

  Tomorrow, Hayden would come and stay with me.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’ve always loved Mondays. They signified returning to work and diving into the business of my four galleries, and, if I could discover new talent, Mondays set the tone for the rest of the week. On this particular one, I was distracted and wasn’t focusing on my paperwork. Instead, I itemized any potential hang-up Hayden might run into and worked on solutions for each one. India always claimed I was a “glass half-empty” kind of woman, and perhaps it was my pessimism that caused this endless list of what-ifs.

  I glanced at my cell phone, debating whether to call Hayden. Having refrained from dialing her since last night, I gave in. I just needed to hear her voice.

  “Greer,” Hayden answered by way of greeting.

  “Hello, there, Hayden. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’ve packed paintings, suitcases, and my art supplies. Will my easels fit in your SUV? I don’t have enough space in the Lincoln.” Hayden sounded as matter-of-fact as usual and not upset, which was a relief.

  “I think so. My backseat folds down.” Tipping back in my office chair, I smiled. “I’m so glad you think this is a good idea.”

  “I’ll like the studio and the bed.”

  “I’ll like having you with me.” I hadn’t planned to say something so personal over the phone, as I was uncertain how Hayden would interpret it. I knew she found it hard to express how she felt and that she thought I was too cryptic sometimes. “I guess I simply enjoy being around you.” My warming cheeks made me cringe. I never blushed, normally.

  “I want to be with you also.”

  I actually pressed a hand to the center of my chest. Hayden’s words could mean so many different things, and despite being so straightforward, she could certainly say things that could have very different meanings. For now, I had to take everything at face value. If I started to read things into her words, I’d end up confusing both of us. “Great,” I said. “I thought we could have dinner up on the rooftop patio tonight unless it starts to rain. I have gas heaters up there.”

  “We could see the stars.” Hayden sounded as if she was smiling, and I didn’t think I imagined it.

  “Absolutely. See you at six, then. Call me if you need something. Anything, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye.” Hayden disconnected the call and I sat without moving for several minutes. So far so good. I told myself I was worrying unnecessarily. I’d simply drive over to the school, help Hayden fill my car up with paintings and easels, and then drive home. Hayden would follow in her Lincoln and everything would be fine.

  The rest of my afternoon was more pleasant. I had a shipment of five paintings by a talented woman I’d discovered the last time I was in Paris. India and I unwrapped them carefully and spent an hour going over them, analyzing them in detail. I then made a point of wrapping up the rest of my more tedious tasks so I wouldn’t leave Hayden waiting.<
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  At 5:10 p.m. my phone rang and I answered without checking the display, distracted by a contractual mistake. I was expecting a call from one of my lawyers and was taken aback when I discovered it was Hayden. Not the calm, assertive woman from earlier in the day, but a Hayden with a hollow voice.

  “Greer, you must come. Right now.”

  The contract I’d been working on disappeared from my mind instantly. “What’s wrong, Hayden?” I was already pulling on my jacket and slinging the messenger bag over my shoulder. “I’m on my way.”

  “Good. Hurry.”

  The call disconnected, and I shoved the cell phone into my inner pocket as I rushed through the outer office. “India?” I called out. “I’m leaving for today.”

  “Already?” India poked her head up from behind her screen. “Hey, you all right? What’s up?”

  I hadn’t told India about the spontaneous plan Hayden and I had come up with. I didn’t think she’d object, but she was protective of me, and I wasn’t ready to add her “but-what-ifs” to my own list. “Oh, just an appointment I’d forgotten,” I lied. “See you tomorrow.”

  I could tell India wasn’t convinced, but perhaps something about my demeanor made her realize raising questions wasn’t a good idea.

  I drove to the school, cursing rush-hour traffic. Checking the time, I had to harness myself, as I was seriously stressing out. My heart jerked spasmodically as my idiotic mind created all kinds of horrific scenarios in which Leyla was causing Hayden grief. Yes, there were situations that could set Hayden off, I knew that, but her hollow, almost-dead voice didn’t bode well. Hayden reacted differently when something triggered her fears. This had sounded…so bad.

  As it was late afternoon, the parking lot at the school was half empty. I parked as close as I could to the main entrance and took the stairs two at a time. Pushing the door open, I hurried inside and headed for Hayden’s gym hall. As I approached, I heard loud voices, both male and female, echo through the corridors. They were coming from the faculty office area. I shouldered through the half-open door and just stood there, taking in the scene.