Page 96 of Statler

There’d been no hesitation, and when the man who was never far from her thoughts walked out from amidst the trees, Eliza was left sputtering.

“Wha…? What are you doing here?” She looked at him, shocked, then scoured the area behind him for anyone who might be following.

“I’m alone,” he told her, moving forward slowly.

Eliza dropped the rock she held—or at least slid it out of her numb fingers—and let it hit the ground.

“How did you find me? Have you…? Wait.”

Eliza’s eyes grew wide and her lips parted in a gasp. “Are you the one who’s been adding to my paintings?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, raising a hand as his cheeks grew ruddy. “I… I didn’t know it was you…up until now. But I felt…compelled.” He regarded her with something akin to awe. “This is freaking amazing, Eliza. You are so talented,” he continued to marvel. “I hope you don’t mind that I couldn’t help but put a few things in. I wondered whether you’d notice.”

Eliza scoffed, but in a way that had her belly fluttering.

“Of course I noticed. You’re… good, too. Really good,” she said, pointing first toward the bee, then to the fishing rod, and finally to the Battenberg cake he’d added sometime over the week to Granny’s kitchen counter.

Statler shrugged, clearly embarrassed at having been caught out. “It’s just a hobby of mine,” he admitted. “I’m nowhere near as talented as you.”

Eliza completely disagreed.

“Not true,” she rebutted. “Your stuff is so lifelike,” she marveled. “How long have you been painting?”

“For several years now. Since I got out of the Army. It’s pretty much for my own pleasure, since I’ve always had an affinity for art.” He brightened. “I was absolutely blown away when I found this installation. And now that I know it’s yours…” He whistled appreciatively. “Have you been painting all your life? And…as wonderful as this place is, why here?” he asked.

Eliza was more than ready for some real honesty between them. If what she felt for Statler had any chance of being cultivated into something…lasting, it had to be nurtured with truth.

She was ready to admit not only her love, but that she hoped for a future that included Statler.

When she’d first fallen for him, she’d determined it was for the best to bury her love deeply. For both their sakes. But that hadn’t worked.

Every day she thought about him.

Every day her heart pined.

He deserved to hear her story.

It wouldn’t be a long one, since he already knew a lot about her past.

“Well, you know that my father and I don’t get along.” She laughed bitterly. “But what you don’t know is that he’s never liked me. Ever. He’s always contended that I’m not smart enough, not pretty enough, and not…compliant enough to be his daughter. And he especially hated it when…” Eliza took a deep breath. “…I started showing an interest in painting.”

The words tumbled out more rapidly once she got started.

“When my mother was alive, she kept William in check where I was concerned, and I was ‘allowed’ to pursue my ‘little hobby’, as long as he didn’t have to witness it. But once my mother passed, he forbade me to waste my time at something he deemed completely unproductive, and he threw all my equipment away.”

Statler glowered, and Eliza continued.

“When Holden and I got married and bought a house, I figured I could start painting again, but I soon found out that was a pipe dream. Unbeknownst to me—until we closed on our home—Holden had made my father our mortgage holder.”

Eliza sighed. Holden had been so sure of himself at that stage of things. It wasn’t until later that he began to show signs of…emotional instability.

“With my father having a financial hold over us, William felt he had the right to come and go at our home as he pleased. Which was…devastating. The first time he found my new supplies, he raised a fit. He had them all removed, with a warning to Holden that I wasn’t to be allowed to paint anymore.”

“Why?” Statler asked darkly. “What possible reason could he have for that?”

“I never knew why, but…at least in this, Holden disagreed with my father. I told you that things were rocky between me and my husband in our last year together, but before that, he was adamant that I keep painting. He said I had talent, and he could see how happy my hobby made me, so he helped me find this place.”

Eliza’s eyes glazed over momentarily, remembering the early days of being up here with Holden. They’d laughed, they’d cavorted, they’d picnicked, and Holden had very much enjoyed watching her create.