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He stayed in that position, trying to fight through the near-painful sensation of waking up. The room filled with light and the sun reminded him he had things to do. Dragging himself out of bed, his gaze rested upon the crystal once more, and he was torn between taking it along and leaving behind any remnants of what he’d lost. Sentiment and established habits won out, and he dropped the stone into his pocket.
The unfinished painting sat on the easel, its subject bathed by the brilliant morning sunbeams. Stephen’s initial instinct was to pick up the paintbrushes, but the dull ache in his lower back suggested he should do something other than sit perched atop a stool all day. After a quick bowl of cereal, he slipped on his boots and headed out the door.
His favorite route through the trees didn’t hold quite the same magic it used to. Reality dulled in comparison with the vivid world of his dreams. The twists and turns of the path which had once been comfortingly familiar were now just another part of his routine. He hadn’t progressed far along the trail before the shrill tones of his phone pierced the air and echoed through the isolated forest.
He swiped his thumb across the screen. “Hi, Jill.”
“Stevie! Oh, good, you picked up the phone.”
“Yup. It was in my pocket, as always.”
“Uh-huh.” Jill didn’t press him further on his obvious lie. “What are you up to?”
“Not much. I’m on my usual daily stroll, enjoying nature and some peace and quiet.” He paused, debating how much he should share with his sister. “I decided to try something different with my painting.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I had a sudden burst of creativity, I guess. It’s going pretty well so far.”
“That’s good to hear. What brought this on?”
Stephen’s throat grew dry as he faced the possibility of having to explain all the strange occurrences of the past several days. Though he and Jill had always been close, he wasn’t sure if she would understand. He didn’t even understand what was going on. “I don’t know,” he told her. “It sort of came out of nowhere.”
It wasn’t far from the truth, and she accepted his response. “Well, you sound happy, which is great. Did you decide when you’re taking a trip down here?”
“No, not yet.” He glanced toward the sky and realized it was much darker than it should be for the time of day. “Jill, I’d better get going. I think there’s a storm coming in.”
“Get home safely, then. I’ll talk to you soon!”
He put the phone away and cast another wary look up at the forming clouds. The summer showers hadn’t been much of an intrusion over the past couple of months, but judging by the sun’s sudden disappearance, a thunderstorm was imminent. He hurried home as quickly as his leg would allow him and stepped inside the door moments before the anticipated torrential downpour.
The lights flickered, and the valiant attempt of the sunbeams trying to break through the thick clouds surrounded the small house with an eerie gray glow. Stephen paced around, searching for something to hold his attention since his walk had been cut short. The unfinished portrait stood by the window, still strangely illuminated, and he sat in front of it.
He set the crystal on the ledge of the easel and studied the two objects. The muted light was not bright enough to allow him to progress in his painting, and he felt a twinge of further frustration at his predicament. He longed to add in the details such as the luster of her curls, the rosy hue of her cheeks, and, most importantly, the twinkle of the intense emerald orbs that had burned into his memory as they stared into his soul.
A flash of lightning tore across the sky, and he sighed as the rumble of thunder resonated nearby. Mixed emotions swirled through his mind while he looked upon his work and he frowned. “Who are you?” he said softly, speaking the thought which had consumed his mind for days. “Where did you come from? Why me?”
Another roar of thunder sounded, and he shook his head. “And now I’m talking to a freakin’ painting. I really must be losing it. Jill would have me committed.” He stood up and stared out the window at the rain pummeling the yard, leaning his head against the cool pane of glass. “Who are you?” he repeated. “I don’t even know what to call you…”
The crackle of lightning striking something near the house made him jump back in surprise. As he fought to maintain his balance, the front door banged open with a strong gust of wind. Sheets of rain blew into the house, and Stephen cursed himself for his apparent inability to fasten the lock correctly as he scrambled to shut it. He skidded on the slick puddle which had formed and grabbed onto the doorframe for support, bracing himself against the currents tearing through his house and penetrating his thin clothing. The wind howled as he fought with the door and, out of nowhere, he swore a voice whispered in his head. “Liora…”
He slammed and locked the door, then leaned against it. The melodious syllables of the long sought-after name repeated in his ears. Was it her?
The lights sputtered one last time before extinguishing, leaving Stephen able to make out only the shadows of his surroundings. He groped his way to the couch to sit down, paying no attention to his dampened clothes. The lack of electricity in the house made him incapable of seeing much in front of him, yet he found his other senses heightened. The rain pounded on the roof as he breathed in and out, and her name, her delightful name, reverberated through the rhythm. If he concentrated, he could feel her next to him, feel her body against his, and taste her lips upon his mouth…
He lay down, pulled his knees into his chest, and curled into a little ball in an effort to ward off the cool air drifting against his clammy skin. With his eyes closed, he could see her sitting by the pool, every detail so amazing, so flawless. He desperately wished to be there with her and yearned for the power to conjure his desired scene at will. As the storm raged outside, he tried to relax and begged for sleep to overcome him.
Chapter Five
Stephen pushed away the branches and tripped over protruding roots in his haste to get to the pond. He stumbled out of the trees and nearly landed at the feet of the woman from whom there was no escape. Catching himself in time, he looked into the haunting green eyes he had been anticipating. “Liora?” he asked.
A radiant smile filled him with warmth, the perfect reward. He wanted to take her into his arms and resume the kiss that had been cut far too short, but the shyness which had defined his personality for almost three decades was too much to overcome so soon. Instead, he took his usual seat beside her and returned the expression when she laced her fingers through his.
“I’m glad I finally know your name,” he said.
She nodded.
“But there’s so much I don’t know about you. I wish there were some way we could meet somewhere else.”
