Constance stopped still when she reached the last of the paintings on the rack. I craned my head and caught sight of paintings of an olive-skinned, wiry man in a boat and diving underwater, and others of a pasty-skinned young man staring directly out from the canvas.
Looking back at Jennifer, Constance frowned. “These are incredible. Who are they?”
“The man is just someone I know. A friend. And the other pictures are of my brother,” Jennifer said, her expression growing rigid again.
I remembered her brother as being the one who’d disappeared. Noah. I wanted to jump in and start asking questions, but I held back. Constance was managing to do what I couldn’t—get a dialogue going with Jennifer.
“Your friend is beautiful. And your brother’s eyes . . .” Constance shook her head. “So soulful and expressive.”
“He was troubled,” Jennifer admitted. “I didn’t understand that at the time, because he was so much older than me. But I understand it now.”
“Yes, I can see the pain on his face.” Constance turned back to the picture. “It almost hurts to look at him.”
“My brother was a drug addict and a gambler. Noah would put a bet on anything. When he was working—which wasn’t that often—he’d put all his money through the slot machines. My parents kept bailing him out, and then he’d tumble straight back into the pit . . .” Her voice trailed away. “Noah wanted a big life. He wanted to do everything and go everywhere. But he didn’t seem to be able to get to the first rung. I’d wake sometimes in the small hours when he’d stumble home. And he’d be full of chat about his latest business idea or a girl who was the love of his life. He spoke to me like I was an adult. I didn’t mind. But nothing lasted with Noah. Not even Noah himself . . .”
“He sounds like a lot of young men who lose their way. I had a boyfriend a lot like that, once,” said Constance. “His name was Otto. But then, it’s true that I also lost my way back then.” Gliding the rack back into place, Constance returned to the kitchen. “Those paintings of Noah are so different to your paintings of Greece. It’s hard to believe the same person painted them.”
“Now you know,” said Jennifer in a flattened voice. “That’s the person behind the sunshine and fluffy clouds. A blank canvas is a thing of terror. I tackle that terror anew each and every day, and I never know what I’ll put down on that canvas.”
“The sunshine and clouds mostly win?” Constance offered a smile.
“Yes,” Jennifer agreed. “They mostly win the fight.”
“You’re a survivor.” Constance sucked her lips in, her eyes sad. “I hope I can have your strength, because I’m going to need it. Can I show you a picture of Kara? She’s my daughter.” Without hesitating, Constance drew out one of her laminated photos from her handbag. “This is her.”
At first, Jennifer put up a hand like she was going to refuse to look, but she relented and took the picture. “She’s a pretty girl.”
“She was last seen with a man named Carlisle,” said Constance with a bitter tone in her voice.
A flicker of recognition seemed to pass through Jennifer’s eyes, but she quickly adjusted her expression. I swallowed, still holding back.
Constance hadn’t even asked Jennifer if she could begin this conversation. She’d burrowed in through another route, and it’d worked. So far. Constance, despite all her uptight nervousness, had some surprisingly steely stuff inside her. I made a guess that if she got past her anxiety, she’d be a dangerous person to have as an opponent.
“And Gray has pictures of his wife and family.” Constance indicated towards me.
Grateful for the cue, I wasted no time in pulling out my wallet and flipping it open in front of Jennifer. “That’s Evie. And Willow—she’s four. And Lilly—she’s the baby.”
“Cute family,” Jennifer said. “The little one is adorable.”
“Not always. She’s got us all under her thumb.” I gave a rueful laugh. “She was really sick just before I left. The doctors finally found out what she’s got. It’s cystic fibrosis.”
Jennifer frowned sympathetically. “That’s harsh.”
“Yeah. Evie doesn’t even know.” Out of nowhere, everything hit me fresh, like a punch to the stomach. I put my wallet away, turning and staring hard through the window, my vision blurring.
I decided to stay quiet again and allow Constance to handle the conversation with Jennifer. And I didn’t trust myself to speak right now. It was like Evie was right there in front of my eyes.