September Canvas by Gun Brooke Page B

you know?” Faythe’s tone sounded longing, tinged with distress.
    “She’s older.” Deanna knew her comment sounded a bit lame but wanted to reassure Faythe. “For what it’s worth, stepping off the carousel to follow your heart when you’re on the fast track to fame and fortune says a lot.”
    “It does?” Faythe’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “I thought it spoke volumes about how indecisive and confused I am.”
    “We all become confused. You’ve got enough courage to act, and you will get un-confused soon enough.”
    Faythe’s laugh carried over the lake and stirred up a flock of birds on the other shore. “Thanks. You’re good for my self-esteem.”
    “Glad to hear that.” Deanna had been mysteriously upset when she sensed pain in Faythe, and comforting her warmed her belly. Deanna cleared her throat and glanced to the right. “How about over there?
    That’s a gorgeous spot and easy to pull the canoe ashore.”
    “Beautiful. Let’s get going. I’m starving.” Deanna’s broad, rare smile stretched unfamiliar muscles. “Me too.”
    * * *
    Faythe leaned back on one elbow and sipped her coffee. The caffeine seemed to diffuse directly into her veins and rejuvenated her. Or perhaps it was the fresh air, she mused, but changed her mind.
    Usually the crisp air made her go to sleep. She looked around the area Deanna had chosen for them to enjoy their breakfast.
    “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Faythe murmured. “I truly enjoy the scenery once I do get outside.”
    “Guess Central Park isn’t exactly outdoors.”
    “Not exactly, even though I love jogging there every morning. I try to go super early, though, which is a bummer since I love to sleep in.” Faythe shifted her gaze to Deanna, who lay on her side in a position that mirrored her own. “How about you?”
    “I’m a night owl. I can stay up so late it’s early morning before I go to bed. Guess that spills over to being a morning person. I don’t sleep much.”
    Faythe knew from Deanna’s sad tone that this wasn’t a subject she should pursue. Deanna moved forward enough for her black hair to cover her face, a familiar gesture. But why did she hide?
    “I change depending on my mood,” Faythe said casually. “If I’m swamped with work and running in circles, I’m grumpy in the morning. If I’m doing something interesting, even if it’s stressful, I’m annoyingly cheerful, according to my colleagues.”
    Deanna’s hair fell back over her shoulders and she grinned.
    “Annoyingly cheerful? Really. I’m trying to picture that, but I can’t.”
    “Oh, I can get overenthusiastic. I’m like a dog with a bone. Once I’m excited about a project I never let go until I’ve sorted everything out, unraveled every part of the mystery, no matter what it is.” Deanna’s expression became somber, and Faythe realized she’d stepped into a minefield.
    “Guess that’s the mark of a good reporter.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “To keep digging.”
    “To find the truth .” Faythe finished her coffee and placed the mug in her backpack. “ That’s the reporter’s job. No, their duty. To find the truth and report it to the public.”
    “No matter whom it hurts. No matter if the truth is not what it seems.” Rigid, her eyes cold, Deanna gripped her mug with a white-knuckled hand.
    Faythe refused to take the bait and spoke softly. “Someone hurt you?” She didn’t want to add to Deanna’s pain, but she refused to accept responsibility for what someone else had done. “A reporter printed something that wasn’t true?”
    “Not exactly. Anyway, it’s ancient history.” Deanna jerked her shoulders again in what looked like her trademark way of dismissing a topic. “Forget about it.”
    “It’s a little hard when you obviously expect me to turn on you and do the same. Look, you don’t know me, but I don’t know you either.” Faythe tucked a few errant strands behind her ear. “And I promise, I’m not here on this