AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A painter, sometimes,” he repeated. “That sounds cryptic.”
Aurora wanted to say that she’d hardly written a song since her mother had died or that she hadn’t had the strength to pick up a paintbrush. That, truthfully, the fact that she’d been able to apply to The Copperfield House residency at all had been a fluke, a miracle, or both.
It didn’t take long to get to the beautiful Victorian home along the water, a place that was practically a transplant from heaven, as far as Aurora was concerned. After he turned off the engine, Aurora gazed at it through the rain-splattered window, at the orange light that swelled out from the back porch and what looked like the kitchen. It meant that people were still up.
“I’m sure they’ll be so glad to see you,” Brooks said. “I don’t know if you know the history of the place, but they haven’t been open to artists since 1997.”
Aurora had, of course, read all about Bernard Copperfield and the twenty-five years he’d done in prison prior to the discovery that he hadn’t committed any crime. She knew about the Copperfield children and had even watched Quentin on the nightly news almost every night with her mother. On nights when her mother had muttered obscenely that the world was ending, that every single segment on the news was proof it was nearly the apocalypse, Aurora had had to turn the news off.
“I’ll help you with your stuff,” Brooks said, his voice gentle as he gazed at her, as though he understood how monumental this was for her— although that was impossible.
“That’s okay,” Aurora insisted. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve already done. But I can take it from here.”
“But I’ll see you around, I guess? How long are you here?” Brooks said it quickly, as though frightened he wouldn’t be able to get it all out before she jumped out of the truck and out of his life forever.
“A month,” Aurora said, her heart-stirring with expectation.
“What’s your number?”
Aurora grimaced, not used to being asked that. “I don’t have a phone, unfortunately.”
Brooks cackled. “No phone? Really? You know it’s the twenty-first century, right?”
“I’m a time traveler,” Aurora quipped, then closed the door and hurried around the back of the truck, listening to the sound of Brooks’ laughter. It was like music to her ears. When she’d gathered her guitar and her suitcase, she stepped around the driver’s side and called through the window. “But you know where to find me.” Brooks nodded, his eyes shadowed, serious.
Aurora had the feeling she’d just met someone who would change her life forever— but it was a thought she knew she couldn’t trust. The disappointment was bound to kill her.
ChapterFour
It was ten-fifteen, and Ella and Greta were in the kitchen, putting away clean dishes, listening to the laughter on the back porch and the strum of a guitar. Andy, the filmmaker, was playing a Pink Floyd song, and Bernard, always ready for a performance, was singing along.
“It’s incredible to feel this old place come alive again,” Greta said softly. “First, with all of you kids coming home. And now, with these newcomers, bringing so many fresh ideas, fresh insights from the world.” She paused, studying the painting of roses on a piece of china, and said, “It’s still hard for me to believe I was trapped in this house without anyone for twenty-five years. And now, it’s like we have a small hotel again.”
Ella’s throat swelled, and she hurried for her mother and wrapped her arms around her. She wanted to say something assuring, but Greta’s face was stoic, proof of all those lonely years, and Ella knew that words weren’t enough for that pain. As Greta reached to put the china plate on the shelf in the armoire, there was a knock at the door, and Ella’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Is that Aurora?” Alana called from the hallway.
“I’ll get it!” Ella dried her hands and rushed for the front door, which she flung open to reveal a thirty-five-year-old woman with long auburn hair and big green eyes. Her hair was frizzy, as though it had dried after the rain, and her makeup had smeared around her eyes. Still, she was every bit the woman Ella remembered from the photograph Aurora had sent along with her application— a gorgeous woman who seemed almost from a different era.
“Aurora?” Ella’s smile hurt her face, and she opened the door wider, stopping herself from hugging her. “Gosh, I’m so glad you made it!”
Aurora’s cheeks were blotchy with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry I’m late. I missed the last ferry.”
“That’s terrible. How did you make it over?” Ella asked, jumping forward to grab Aurora’s suitcase.
Aurora followed Ella in with her guitar, explaining about a fisherman at the Hyannis port, how he’d driven her here in his truck. In the living room, Greta and Alana stood expectantly, wearing open smiles.
“Aurora, welcome to The Copperfield House,” Greta said.
“Are you all right?” Alana asked. “We were worried. Well, Ella was.”
Ella laughed and waved her hand. “Apparently, Aurora hitched a ride on a fishing boat.”
“How adventurous,” Greta said approvingly. “Sounds like something Ella might have done back in the day.”
“Right. Alana would have had the good sense to hitch a ride on a yacht instead,” Ella joked as Aurora smiled uncertainly. “Let me show you to your room.”
Aurora was quiet as they walked through the back hallway, through the door that separated the residency from the house, then up the staircase to the second floor. Ella couldn’t blame her— she’d clearly had a difficult journey. When they reached her bedroom, Ella opened the door to reveal a simple double bed, a white desk, and a window that looked out to the inky black ocean beneath a smattering of stars.
