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At the foot of the fireplace, I reached up to adjust the painting’s positioning.
Withering wildflowers hung their heads in the vast, shadowy meadow. Fearsome storm clouds colored the grass beneath their stems gray. A spattering of trees was painted in the distance, their bare limbs cradling a light dusting of snow and their trunks curved as if folding under unseen pressure.
The portrait would have been depressing if not for the bright, yellow daisy drifting on the wind toward a sliver of sunlight visible through a tiny break in the bleak clouds.
What made the daisy so different? Why had it survived when everything else around it hadn’t?
The other two paintings of Leland’s that I’d purchased were beautiful too, but not quite as thought-provoking as this one, and I suddenly needed to know what drove him to create this. I wanted him to translate it for me, to explain its symbolism and how it related to him personally.
“Maybe I hoped I’d discover I was a daisy,”he’d said that night on the roof. I touched the corner of the framed canvas, now even more intrigued by him.
I suppose I should’ve been stunned to find out he was the man behind this magnificent work of art. I’d been more shocked about the coincidence of it being him more than anything, though, because I’d come to learn from our peculiar, shared experience a couple of weeks ago, that Leland was full of surprises—and that I shouldn’t be surprised by any of them.
“Maybe you can take some time off to figure out what makes you happy, then work toward figuring out how to support your family by doing whatever that is,”he’d said, and I’d descended the roof thinking him idealistic and naive. Men like me didn’t get to walk away, and I was too terrified to even dream of what walking away would look like if I could. Because as much as I believed that I hated my status, my privilege, and my grasp on power, there was also a large part of me that felt I’d be no one without it, and that I’d lose everyone if I let it all go.
But then, learning I was on the verge of losing everything and everyone anyway, left me with a sense of now-or-never.
“We haven’t been happy for a very long time, becauseyouhaven’t been happy for a very long time, Franklin. If ever.”
I screwed my eyes shut on the flashback, not wanting to recollect what she’d confessed after. Instead, I focused on what Leland’s last words to me were.
“The state fair kicks off tomorrow. I’ll be tackling the Ferris wheel.”
It wasn’t even noon yet. I hadn’t given his invite much consideration yesterday, but now, after the morning meeting I’d had, and after ruminating over his art, I found that I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, if only to pick his brain aboutA Winter Meadow.
I didn’t know what time he’d arrive there, but he said he loved the sun, and it was at its peak around noon. It wasn’t much to go by, but I had very little to lose.
Upstairs, I stripped out of what remained of my suit and legged into a pair of dark jeans before tugging a navy Henley over my head. The transformation from my usual attire made me think of something else Leland had said.
“So you wear your armor to buy art, too, huh? What I wouldn’t give to see you out of it.”
The comment had been purposely salacious, meant to fluster me, but it had got me thinking instead. If I wanted to experience something different, I’d have to start with shedding my armor.
I smoothed my hands down the cotton shirt, the change of clothes feeling refreshing, and I wondered how long I’d get to enjoy this before having to leave Franky behind and return to being Franklin Kincaid.
Deciding not to dwell on that, I shoved my wallet into my back pocket and made for the garage.
Exactly one hour later, I pulled into the graveled parking lot near the pier. Leland’s main objective was the Ferris wheel, but it didn’t hurt to keep an eye out for him on my way to that side of the boardwalk, so I took off at a leisurely stroll in that direction while keeping an eye out for him elsewhere.
I’d never consumed food from a truck, or hot dogs boiled in the compartment of a metal cart, but the scents overwhelming the air made my stomach grumble, reminding me I hadn’t yet eaten.
I narrowly avoided slamming into a running toddler holding an ice cream cone, her mother not far behind, and I winced when a man with a bullhorn in a dart throwing stall shouted for willing participants to “come on over.”
It was a lot to take in, and I almost backtracked to the parking lot, but then straight ahead, a man as tall as me, with sun-kissed cropped hair and fists jammed into his hoodie pockets, caught my attention.
Leland stared up at the Ferris wheel in abject horror, his face drained of color. His jeans hugged his defined legs, proving he wasn’t as slender as he’d appeared the last two times I’d seen him. His work slacks, and then the cargo pants he’d worn at the gallery, were a lot looser on his seemingly slim frame.
I skirted around the carnival ride, careful to keep out of sight until I stood behind him. “It won’t bite,” I said.
Startled, his shoulders bunched, then relaxed as they vibrated from a silent laugh. “What a shame,” he responded in a seductive tone.
“Are you always this amorous?” I asked, as he turned to me. Begrudgingly, I did enjoy his devilry, although I’d never admit to it.
“Always,” he said shamelessly, and I smiled, unable to help myself. Leland was light and fun, that much was evident, and I desperately needed some fun and levity in my life. Loosening up would just take some getting used to after having it drilled into my head since I was a child that showing enjoyment was equivalent to showing weakness.“Fear garners respect,”my father would say. Through his guidance I’d become a dismal boy.
“Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” Leland said.
“Don’t make me regret my decision.”
