call me, ‘Rainey?’ That’s why I hate it when you call me that!”
Silence filled the truck cab the rest of the way back to camp. Drew pulled into the grassy lot behind the Canteen and killed the engine.
Neither of them moved to get out of the truck. Raine looked sideways at Drew. He stared at the croton hedge as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Her jab hit bull’s eye, and now she regretted it.
“Don’t you think I know this stuff? I did my senior research paper on meth addiction. My parents thought it was altruistic. They didn’t have a clue Eddie was doing drugs.” She turned toward him, wanting to make him understand.
“But when I look my brother in the eye, I can’t not-help him. He’s the person I’m closest to in the world. I’m the only one he confides in. I have to be there for him. Or there’s no one.”
“You’re enabling him. C an’t you see it?” Drew’s eyes pleaded with her to accept what she would never accept.
The anger came flooding back. She slid out of the truck to the ground. “Don’t give me advice till you’ve lived my life.” She slammed the door.
Chapter 5
A blue jay twittered outside the window. Cal heard voices and the scuff of shoes on the dirt as the stragglers headed toward the dining hall for lunch. He stepped into the classroom, inhaling the lingering scent of paint and turpentine that marked the room as his.
Raine stood facing Day at the Beach with her back to him. Maybe she regretted freezing him out yesterday and came to apologize.
A board groaned under the weight of his foot and she spun around. Tears slicked down her cheeks and she wiped them away. “What does this painting mean?”
He braced himself against her tears and shrugged one shoulder as if she wasn’t getting to him. Raine wouldn’t like his telling her what the painting meant. But maybe he should. It would give her a glimpse of how people think who aren’t like her. But he wasn’t into baring his soul. Ever.
His usual response slid out. “The important thing is what it means to you.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“You can’t be wrong. Everyone is entitled to his own interpretation.” He pulled a chair out and straddled it. Of course, sometimes people came up with certifiably crazy interpretations of his work.
Raine looked back at the painting and sank to the tabletop , still entranced. Cal’s gaze followed hers though he knew the painting, probably one of his best, without looking.
A figure with no distinguishing male or female characteristics walked on the beach casting a long shadow. Three boys and a girl strung out behind the figure. One of the boys was out in the sun, running for the water, hope etched on his face. One tennis-shoe-clad foot remained in the figure’s shadow. The faces of the children in the shadow couldn’t be seen. They appeared hunched. One carried a toy bucket and shovel. One wore an inflatable inner tube around his waist.
“It makes me think about my family.” Raine didn’t take her eyes off the picture. “Three boys and a girl. One child sees his dad casting an oppressive shadow over all their lives.”
Cal wanted her to say more. His gaze welded to the play of emotion on her face.
She turned to him. “I don’t think I ever realized how wrong a child’s view can be.” She looked back at the painting. “You make me see that the best place for the children is out in the sunshine—maybe holding the dad’s hand, looking up at him expectantly. Or dancing around him with expressions that say, ‘Look at me, look at me, aren’t I something special!’ ”
Cal was thrown off balance. He had painted God’s oppression of man, his mother’s oppression of the family. That was Cal, almost out of God’s shadow and into the sunshine, poised to run into the water. He didn’t want to hear this wasn’t how life should be.
Raine had unknowingly pictured a relationship with God, one where the children got to play in the sunshine, interact
Silence filled the truck cab the rest of the way back to camp. Drew pulled into the grassy lot behind the Canteen and killed the engine.
Neither of them moved to get out of the truck. Raine looked sideways at Drew. He stared at the croton hedge as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Her jab hit bull’s eye, and now she regretted it.
“Don’t you think I know this stuff? I did my senior research paper on meth addiction. My parents thought it was altruistic. They didn’t have a clue Eddie was doing drugs.” She turned toward him, wanting to make him understand.
“But when I look my brother in the eye, I can’t not-help him. He’s the person I’m closest to in the world. I’m the only one he confides in. I have to be there for him. Or there’s no one.”
“You’re enabling him. C an’t you see it?” Drew’s eyes pleaded with her to accept what she would never accept.
The anger came flooding back. She slid out of the truck to the ground. “Don’t give me advice till you’ve lived my life.” She slammed the door.
Chapter 5
A blue jay twittered outside the window. Cal heard voices and the scuff of shoes on the dirt as the stragglers headed toward the dining hall for lunch. He stepped into the classroom, inhaling the lingering scent of paint and turpentine that marked the room as his.
Raine stood facing Day at the Beach with her back to him. Maybe she regretted freezing him out yesterday and came to apologize.
A board groaned under the weight of his foot and she spun around. Tears slicked down her cheeks and she wiped them away. “What does this painting mean?”
He braced himself against her tears and shrugged one shoulder as if she wasn’t getting to him. Raine wouldn’t like his telling her what the painting meant. But maybe he should. It would give her a glimpse of how people think who aren’t like her. But he wasn’t into baring his soul. Ever.
His usual response slid out. “The important thing is what it means to you.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“You can’t be wrong. Everyone is entitled to his own interpretation.” He pulled a chair out and straddled it. Of course, sometimes people came up with certifiably crazy interpretations of his work.
Raine looked back at the painting and sank to the tabletop , still entranced. Cal’s gaze followed hers though he knew the painting, probably one of his best, without looking.
A figure with no distinguishing male or female characteristics walked on the beach casting a long shadow. Three boys and a girl strung out behind the figure. One of the boys was out in the sun, running for the water, hope etched on his face. One tennis-shoe-clad foot remained in the figure’s shadow. The faces of the children in the shadow couldn’t be seen. They appeared hunched. One carried a toy bucket and shovel. One wore an inflatable inner tube around his waist.
“It makes me think about my family.” Raine didn’t take her eyes off the picture. “Three boys and a girl. One child sees his dad casting an oppressive shadow over all their lives.”
Cal wanted her to say more. His gaze welded to the play of emotion on her face.
She turned to him. “I don’t think I ever realized how wrong a child’s view can be.” She looked back at the painting. “You make me see that the best place for the children is out in the sunshine—maybe holding the dad’s hand, looking up at him expectantly. Or dancing around him with expressions that say, ‘Look at me, look at me, aren’t I something special!’ ”
Cal was thrown off balance. He had painted God’s oppression of man, his mother’s oppression of the family. That was Cal, almost out of God’s shadow and into the sunshine, poised to run into the water. He didn’t want to hear this wasn’t how life should be.
Raine had unknowingly pictured a relationship with God, one where the children got to play in the sunshine, interact
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