Twice Fallen by Emma Wildes

represent.”
    “What makes you think I want it to represent anything?”
    “Why create something so beautiful to no purpose?”
    Damn
. She’d been afraid all along he might understandthe underlying complex nature of not just the art itself, but maybe even the artist. Perhaps that was why she was so drawn to him. She said curiously, “If you want to guess, then, please do.”
    “Thank you.” He took a moment, his brow faintly furrowed. “The setting is obviously something you’ve seen. The detail is so well done I can fairly hear the flutter of the leaves.”
    Regina didn’t comment, just waiting.
    “The allegorical figure in front is interesting.” James lifted the lamp higher for better light. “He looks slightly weary. His crossbow is hanging low, but then again, his expression holds a certain unmistakable resolve. This is a man with no choice. We cannot see what he faces, but he does know it must be done. He isn’t a martyr, but an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances.”
    It took a moment—for her throat had tightened—but she said calmly, “Go on. I am always curious as to what people take away from my work.”
    “He doesn’t want to do what he must do. His bow is in his hands, but his arrow pointed at the ground. The set of his shoulders shows tension, but the fear is not for himself. Am I correct?”
    So very correct she could almost kiss him. Or melt into a puddle at his feet. Neither of which she’d done before. He’d kissed her as a prelude to lovemaking and she’d allowed it, but she’d never kissed
him
. And she’d never imagined melting for any man, but he seemed to be capable of surprising her. “Close enough.”
    “There’s a story… William Tell, the legendary Swiss hero who was just a common man.” James glanced up at her. “It’s an old tale, but if I recall, he has to shoot theapple off the head of his son with a crossbow. I’ve always thought it so compelling… the risk… awful but yet heroic. An ordinary man pushed beyond his limits.”
    She actually had to clear her throat because he was absolutely right. She’d always wanted to capture that instant when Tell’s bow must have lifted and he’d notched the arrow… and then when the moment had come, instead she’d painted the hesitancy before that fateful decision. It was more the choice that interested her than the deed itself. How did he come to it? How
could
he?
    And James had seen it so easily.
    It unnerved her. “That story has always fascinated me,” she admitted.
    He glanced up. “I think you did it justice. Well done.”
    “I chose to not put his son in the picture.” She walked toward the easel for the first time, ashamed her palms were damp just from letting anyone—him especially—look at an unfinished work. “It isn’t about his son’s possible death if he makes a mistake, but rather the dilemma of ever taking the shot. I wanted to capture the personal conflict of his confidence in his ability and the possibility of error we all face.” She paused, studying with critical analysis the expression on the central figure’s face. “His cost being the dearest possible if he chose wrongly.”
    “Oh, indeed.” James pointed at an apple tree in the background of the painting, mingled with the other trees. “A rather nice comparison to Eden and the first human error. Was that your intention?”
    She wasn’t sure. Life was profound in many ways and shallow in others.… She often felt not so much like a participant as an observer.
    James, on the other hand, was so at ease with himself.Did he realize it? If there was any arrogance in his nature, she hadn’t seen even a hint of it and maybe it was that air of quiet confidence she found so attractive. He was a talented and ardent lover, yes, but they seemed to share an intellectual bond as well. She’d never been close to any of the men in her life except her father and Luke.
    He was still looking at her with an inquiring expression on his face