Cami took his hand in hers. “Cami Desmond.”
When their hands touched, she had a brief flash of déjà vu, but it passed. This time was for her.
“My wildest dreams have already come true.”
The Eleventh Hour
Michelle Maddox
I saw the little boy standing on the corner crying his eyes out. Lugging my heavy portfolio, I went directly to him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I crouched down in front of him.
“My mommy’s gone,” he sobbed.
“I’ll help you find her.”
“You will?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
He looked at me warily through damp, but clear, blue eyes the exact same colour of the sky today. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Sophie Shaw. What’s your name?”
“I’m Adam.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Adam.”
He sniffed and looked at my portfolio. “What’s that?”
“This is where I keep my art.”
“Your art?”
I unzipped the top and reached in to grab a small self-portrait I’d done on a scrap piece of paper that morning while looking in the mirror. Practice makes perfect after all. I had a hard time with eyes, getting that spark of life to come into them, but in the simple five-minute pencil sketch I felt like I’d done a decent enough job.
“See?” I said. “That’s supposed to be me.”
He took the sketch from me and looked at it with wide eyes and smiled. “Cool.”
With a review like that, I really wished the kid was an art buyer. Since he didn’t look more than seven years old, I could only hope he’d grow up to be one. A rich one.
“I’m trying to be an artist,” I told him. The more I spoke, the more his mood seemed to brighten. “I have a show next week at a gallery right around the corner from here. My first one. Now, enough about me. Where do you live?”
He looked around. “I don’t know.”
I stood up and offered him my hand. “Let’s go find your mom.”
“Really?” He seemed surprised by this and hope filled his blue eyes.
I nodded. “Really.”
“That will be difficult since his mother is dead,” a deep voice said. I turned to see a man standing next to us. If I were to draw his eyes, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of friendliness there.
My stomach sank. “Oh, I . . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I thought he was just lost.”
“He’s my nephew and he lives with me now.” Something that vaguely resembled a smile crept over the man’s face. He reached out his hand. “Come, Adam.”
