A Portrait of Dawn

by Samantha St. Claire

  Rowena sat quietly on Jessie’s lap, her eyes uncannily wise as she searched the faces about her. Dawn wondered if she would become the scholar of the pair?

  Jessie said, “I love watching them play. Can’t even imagine what’s going on in that boy’s brain, but it never stops working I’m certain of that. Wish I had half his energy.”

  “I think at this age, they’re just exploring possibilities. They don’t know yet what can’t be done, so they aren’t afraid to try.” Lena picked up a block and handed it to Tommy. “See how he’s trying to make the big block stand up on top the small one. He’s tried a dozen times, but he keeps at it. He’s stubbornly persistent. That’s a good trait, Jessie.”

  Dawn fought hard against the impulse to help him. An image, shaken loose from memory, floated like a dry leaf into her consciousness. Her father standing close to her side as she attempted steps with limbs too weak in shoes too heavy. His arms were open, ready to catch her, but never touching her as she discovered her courage. He’d called it fortitude.

  “I wish I had their imagination again. I used to have one. Sometimes I think it’s come back, but it’s like trying to catch butterflies.” Jessie said, her face less tense than the weeks preceding yesterday’s celebration. She was a different woman now.

  “Why do you think you’ve lost it?” Lena asked as she picked up the block again and handed it back to Tommy.

  “I worry about not giving the children what they need or what Bart needs. I think I eat, and sleep worry, and that leaves me no time to mull over doing anything else.”

  “Jessie, this is just for a season. They need a lot from you now. It won’t always be so,” Lena said with an encouraging smile.

  “You know how much I want to open a bake shop someday. I used to dream about all the pastries and breads I’d make, even what the inside of the shop would look like, with tables and pretty pictures on the walls.” Her young face drew into a frown. “I can’t even imagine it anymore.”

  Dawn reached for another stray block and lay it next to the boy. “I agree with Lena, you’ll dream again, if it’s really something you want.”

  In silence, Dawn considered her own words. Hadn’t she stopped dreaming years ago? She wasn’t ready to imagine a life different from what she’d known. She’d grown content but had she been as satisfied as she’d convinced herself she was?

  Lena sat up and stretched out her legs before her. “Just because you can’t imagine it now, doesn’t mean you can’t tomorrow, or next year or in ten years. You remember what it was like for me, Jessie. There was no way that I’d have imagined someone like Evan waiting for me here.”

  “I remember.” Jessie scrambled to her feet and pulled the food basket away from Tommy’s probing hands. “Wait, Mama will give you something to eat. You don’t need to help yourself, young man.”

  “Father took off down the stream, didn’t he?” Dawn asked. “I think I’ll walk to the shore.”

  Lena glanced up from the leaning tower of blocks Tommy had finally constructed. “Yes, I think he did, at least that’s what he said he wanted to do, something about an elusive trout. You go on, I’ll keep my eyes on these two. Jessie isn’t far.”

  Dawn rose awkwardly to her feet, recovering her balance after a few seconds. The going was slow, as she kept her attention focused on the uneven ground, potholed by small rodents. She arrived on the shore without mishap, feeling immeasurably satisfied. To her right, a thick stand of reeds reminded her of a children’s book where wicked frogs sat waiting to ensnare hapless children. An iridescent turquoise dragonfly perched atop one swaying reed, its multi-faceted eyes studying her, like a villain from a children’s storybook.

  “Don’t wish to spook you.” Evan’s voice broke through her revelry.

  He was standing higher up the shoreline holding a thick stick in his hand. Coming a few steps closer, he offered the stick to her. “Thought you might like this.”

  Evan said nothing more in explanation, but Dawn imagined the words he might have added. Nothing shameful about a walking stick. She reached out, accepting it. The branch curved gracefully ending in a gnarled nub just above a comfortable place for her hand. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” He tipped his hat and started back up the slope. A few feet away, he stopped. “I saw Luke head up the shoreline.” He pointed to the north end of the lake. See that stand of cottonwoods hanging out over the water?”

  Was she so easy to read? Not to herself, that was certain, because her feelings for the artist were indeterminate. At least this morning, they were. Last night and lying sleepless in her bed, she’d thought of little else than the sensation of his hand, warm on her back, and the complete absence of pity in his eyes as he’d danced with her.

  This morning he’d seemed distant, but she’d supposed his mind was preoccupied with his work or his decision to stop creating excuses for himself. Instead of brooding, she’d decided the man had much to contemplate that had nothing to do with her.

  Preoccupied by her thoughts, she arrived at the opposite side of the small lake, realizing how little she’d looked down at her feet. Over the years, she’d rejected the use of a cane for the sake of proper appearances. She’d perceived the use of one less than dignified and symbolizing weakness. With a revelation of startling clarity, she wondered what else she’d denied herself for the sake of pride and others’ opinions?

  Freed of focusing upon each step, her eyes began roaming the landscape, taking in the saffron hues of summer grasses in bloom dotting the valley and hillsides. Scattered cloud shadows colored and softened the terrain.

  When they’d visited here a few days ago, Lena had called her attention to the clusters of graceful, white-barked trees, and aspens, clustering along the valley’s northern slope. She truly saw them now, hearing how their leaves seemed to clap in the light breeze, polite applause to the sun. The pungent fragrance of sage drifted in from the desert that lay to the east.

  In this rapturous state of being, she came upon Luke. He sat with his back braced against the trunk of a stately sycamore. His focus was not on the water but the hill across the valley. She followed the direction of his gaze and searched the treeless slope, seeing little more than scrub and stiff grasses, surely not much to interest an artist.

  “There’s a comfortable couch of moss beneath this tree beside me,” Luke said.

  He held out his hand, guiding her as she cautiously navigated gnarled tree roots. Settling herself onto the cushioned ground, she smoothed her skirt about her ankles. “It’s nice here. Cool.” Her eyes darted to his and back to the distant hillside that had held his attention when she first approached. She licked her lips, trying to wick moisture back into her mouth. Conversation last night had been so effortless.

  They’d danced until Lena and Evan turned down the lamps and left the room. And they’d talked. The direction of their conversation had been much like the stream that meandered through this valley, natural and flowing easily from one topic to the next. What they’d discussed mattered far less to her today than the memory of a pleasing union of intellects. Although there were points of disparity between them, each demonstrated a willingness to listen to the other. To be heard and seen, was that not a most desirable quality in any relationship? Until now, she thought it would be something she only ever shared with her father.

  Under the cool shade of the sycamores, neither spoke for some time. It would be incorrect to say that they sat in silence, for all about them the summer hummed with the cheerful fiddling of insect legs, and bird songs. Dawn rested her head against the smooth trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. Her senses tingled, her body more alive than her mind. She brushed her fingers across the velvet moss that was her couch, thrilling to the sensation. The sounds, the scents and the touch of her surroundings completely captured her attention.

  “You know, you never really answered my question,” Luke said softly.

  “What was that?” She held her eyes closed, unwilling to shatter this sensual a
wareness.

  “If you will recall, you asked me some very direct questions about the things I want to change, to do, to be. I tried to be honest. You were with me.”

  She opened her eyes to see a teasing smile tugging at his lips. She dropped her gaze again to the mossy carpet, fingering the petite flowers poking up their heads. “Perhaps if you were to rephrase your question.” Could she be as transparent as he would like?

  “When I first met you, you seemed so poised, so confident. What gave you that contentment?”

  The question was unexpected. Contentment? Yes, that was a good word. Until her revelation, she would have chosen it as well. She drew in a deep breath. “Purpose.”

  Yes, the answer was her greatest desire and the one thing she believed could fully satisfy her. The cool air that had seemed so pleasant moments before, slipped into her lungs, chilling her from the inside out. Purpose was the very thing her life now lacked.

  “I can see that in you,” he said.

  She looked up sharply. “You mean you saw that in me. That’s what you meant.” Her voice held a knife-edge of bitterness.

  His brows drew tight together. “I don’t understand.”

  Dawn shook her head, drawing her arms about her as she answered. “No, you couldn’t.”

  When the silence had stretched to long minutes, she lifted her eyes to his as her anger thinned to embarrassment.

  “I’d like to understand,” he said.

  She looked away and lapsed into a habit formed in childhood, sucking in her lower lip and gnawing it. Her aunt had broken the habit years ago, harshly scolding her for making herself appear to be a rabbit instead of a lady. Her aunt only thought she’d broken it.

  Luke looked at her with a perplexed expression. “I would think you have every reason to feel you live a purposeful life. Your father must find your assistance a great help. Nathan told me a little about how much you’re involved—”

  “Was involved.” Dawn pushed herself to her feet, stumbled and stepped outside the tree’s shelter into the warming sunlight. She met his questioning eyes and answered, “He doesn’t need my help anymore.” Her throat squeezed tight with tears. She tore her eyes away from his. “He’s getting married.”

  Luke stepped into the sunlight a short distance apart from her. He was waiting for more.

  Her arms still tight to her body, she turned the question back to him. “So, what’s my purpose, Luke? Can you tell me? For, I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine any part of my life a few days from now when we return to the city.”

  His blue eyes reflected the light of a cloudless sky. Although he made no attempt to answer her, she could see in those eyes something akin to sympathy but far more preferable. She sensed he understood her agony and could empathize—with no pity, but an ability to identify with what had shaken her safe world.

  Uncomfortable beneath the intensity of his gaze, she turned away and took a few steps closer to the shore. With her back to him, she composed herself. At last, she said, “My aunt has offered to take me with her as her companion. It will be a glorious tour through Italy and Greece. Foolish of me not to be thrilled. But what does one do when the tour is over? Begin another?” She drove the toe of her shoe into the soft sand. “I know older women who have made an occupation of traveling, and the spinsters who are their traveling companions. I cannot say that their lives evidence any lasting satisfaction.”

  She used the stick to carve a spiral into the mud, watching the water ooze back into the groove. “But where is the purpose for such a life?” She drove the stick into the ground at the tip of the line she’d drawn. “Simply pleasing oneself brings only a temporary satisfaction.”

  He studied her for a time before asking, “Why can’t you continue fighting for the same causes? I don’t understand why your father’s marriage should bring an end to that.”

  Wasn’t it obvious? Of course, it would end. Everything would end. Her stomach churned now, and she had to look away to hide her confusion and the tears welling in her eyes. All of it would end when another woman came into their home, the conversations, the confidences, the private jokes. Nothing would be just theirs anymore. It wasn’t about the causes. It wasn’t about justice. It wasn’t about a woman’s place in society. It was about being needed by someone.

  She turned to him, desperate to ignore his observation and maintain her previous argument. “Is it too much to want my life to count for something?”

  “Such a question is one that haunts me, as well,” he said at last. “I want my work to serve a purpose, to even outlive me.”

  He understood, then, at least in part.

  “I can’t imagine you would not find such purpose,” he said.

  “That’s where my imagination is lacking. I cannot marry as my father would wish just to relieve his anxiety for his spinster daughter.” She stabbed the stick into the mud again, with a satisfying squish. “I think I should die of boredom.”

  He chuckled, causing her to shoot him a disapproving look. “You find that humorous?”

  Holding up his hands as though to ward off a blow, he shook his head, saying, “I wasn’t making fun of what you said. I can’t see you becoming bored. You’d never tolerate a tiresome life. Would you?”

  “We’ve spent so little time together. How can you be so confident?”

  “I don’t know, really. However disparate our lives may be, I think we share many similar traits. That gives me some insight.” A small grin lifted the corner of his lips. “I may have had some help. Nathan had his own insights to share.”

  She felt her cheeks warm, and opened her mouth to protest the man’s lack of decorum, but Luke raised his hands again.

  “Please don’t be angry. He simply explained a little more about the close relationship you’ve shared with your father.”

  “He had no right!” Dawn gripped her arms tight to her body.

  “I loved my mother. She had no one but me. I cared for her until the day she passed. I’m not ashamed of that, and neither should you be. But time and circumstances change. For me, the door swung wide open when my responsibilities to her were over. I’ve realized these past few days how unprepared I was for walking through that door.”

  The anger subsided as she listened, taking a cautious step inside his open heart to really see the man. As a result, she could see a reflection of herself. She’d criticized him for the very thing of which she was guilty.

  He tilted his head to look into her eyes and he smiled at her, one soul touching another. “You have so much to offer. Maybe the purpose you’re looking for will find you.”

  Something deep within her stirred to life, hope perhaps, or imagination. Something good, longing for the light of day. A dawning.

  He reached to offer his arm. “May I show you some of my sketches from today?”

  “I’d like that,” she took his arm as he led her back to the mossy seat beneath the sycamore tree.

  “These plants are new to me. I’m not sure how to sketch them. I need to keep practicing.” He held her hand as she settled again with her back to the tree.

  “Like scales on the piano?”

  He laughed lightly. “Yes, exactly.”

  “I am glad to keep you company, but I think I’ve taken you from needed work.”

  “I would be pleased for the company, but if I work, you may not find me conversant.”

  “Neither will I be. I’m feeling suddenly sleepy. If I close my eyes, I trust you will alert me to the approach of any wild beast.”

  “Rest assured, I will. But maybe after I’ve sketched him.”

  She made a little mock cry of distress and closed her eyes again.

  “Rest easy. I will shout loud enough to send echoes rebounding across the hills.”

  He returned to his sketching, as silent as he’d warned her, he would be. Dawn closed her eyes, and his words came back to her, a hopeful thought. Maybe the purpose will find you.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was to see Luke
studying her. His hand moved furiously across his drawing paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. Realizing she was watching him, he whispered, “Please don’t move.”

  “I’m not sure that I could. I believe this tree has bewitched me.”

  His features relaxed into a smile and he put his pen aside.

  “I hope you aren’t sketching me.”

  He grinned. “Of course, not. Now, be still. I’m almost finished.”

  Dawn sat up, brushing a leaf from her skirt. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  Luke reached out his hand and gently pushed her shoulder back against the tree. “Please.” After tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he lifted her hand, brushing it with his lips. “You have no idea how lovely you are.” He repositioned her hand and sat back, lifting his pen again. “That’s it. Now, look over my shoulder. I’ve been waiting for you to awaken so I could see your eyes.”

  She frowned, then begrudgingly focused on the opposite side of the lake.

  “That’s not quite the expression I was hoping to see.” He met her anger with laughing eyes.

  She let out an exasperated puff of air. “All right. I’ll try.”

  Across the lake, the two couples sat on the quilt with the twins crawling around them. Imagination was, indeed, a dangerous occupation for the mind. But was such a life so improbable? Like Luke, was she too ready to dismiss it because of obstacles of her own design?

  “Do you think it’s foolish?” he asked. “The notion that I might trek out into the wilderness with as little as I know about what it takes to survive.” The sketchpad lay open on his lap, his hand still. His gaze had shifted from her to the hills again. “Putting aside my skills, I don’t know if I have what it takes.”

  “You were raised in the country, were you not?”

  He gave a derisive snort. “Climbing over hedgerows and hillocks is scarcely the same as climbing into mountains like these. We had no manner of beasts to compare with those who live here. There’s little to fear from a wee fox.”