His and Hers by Ashley Ludwig Read Free Book Online

Not the movies, the stories, or the memories. Most of them aren’t so pretty, kid.” She swept broad, angry strokes before softening and returning her attention. “My life started the minute I met your grandfather. After that, nothing was ever the same again. I don’t care who knows it.”
    “But Todd’s been dying for an angle on your story—” Just voicing her fears aloud had her shuddering with the implications. The possibility of uncovering what her grandparents had managed to keep under wraps for fifty years.
    “What tabloid’s gonna be interested in an old broad like me?” With her chin up, she concentrated back on her work. “And no matter what happens, none of it is your fault.”
    Misty knew the conversation was over.
    “Mrs. Darling, that’s wonderful!” Diane Laurent praised as she ambled over to evaluate Nona’s work. She wove her mass of dark curls into a quick braid, and then clasped both hands over Misty’s. “Nice to finally meet you, Misty. Your grandmother’s been going on and on about your artistic abilities. Let’s see what you can do.” Diane folded her arms across her chest and waited.
    Misty gave a pained smile, and took her brush in hand. Spanish guitar rang through the room. It bounced off the walls and jangled her nerves. She thumbed the bristles and stared at the blank canvas.
    The instructor’s hand settled on Misty’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ve asked Cain to set the mood.”
    “He seems good at that.” Misty breathed, watching him stroll around the room. Wishing he’d come over. Wishing he wouldn’t.
    Diane went on, explaining, hands flying as she spoke. “The act of creation is a combination of sights, smells, sounds, and emotion. Excellent music can relax you enough to stir the soul. Don’t you think so?”
    Misty’s gaze caught his, and his face warmed in an easy smile. She watched his strumming fingers and wondered how they’d feel, playing across her skin. A thrill coursed through her, along with adrenaline. “I don’t know how relaxed I feel…”
    “Just focus on the centerpiece.” Diane gave her a friendly nudge. “Paint what your heart dictates.”
    Misty did as directed, turning her sights on the slant of the guitar against the bright stripes of the blanket. The folds trapped the guitar’s neck. The polished wood and pearl inlays gleamed under incandescent lights. She let the world fade away and began to sketch an outline.
    Indeed, the music stayed with her though her vision tunneled. She could imagine a wind-swept shoreline, a stone castle, the sun setting over a Spanish sea. Somewhere in her mind’s eye, a maiden pined for her lover—who’d left behind the guitar on his hurried path out of her door. She stood at the arched doorway, watching him depart, heart in her chest, brimming to overflow with unrequited love.
    Then, the song ended. Misty’s blurred vision returned to reality. “Oh, my…” The sharp intake of breath she heard was her own.
    “Misty!” Diane squeezed at her shoulders with paint-spattered hands.
    Misty swallowed against the sudden over-encouragement. “I don’t know. My colors are a bit off…” She tilted her head at the thick swirls of the magenta, ochre, and amber that made up the sunset lighting a windblown azure sea.
    “Look, everyone. Misty’s painting is from the heart, just as I suggested. Not just the scene that you see before you, it’s what she saw beyond it that made this all her own. Well done.” Diane continued her lesson, adding a suggestion that she stay a bit after the session ended.
    Grandma beamed, regal head held high.
    Something that must have been pride warmed Misty’s throat. She fought to clear it, grabbed her brushes, and Grandma Nona’s as well, hauling those and the paint smeared palettes over to the large classroom sinks. Warm water rushed over her hands as she cleaned out the brushes, watching swirls of bright colors mix to a muddy brown and filter down the drain.
    Cain appeared