Redeeming the Rancher by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

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If someone had told Livie that the missing inspiration for her sculpture’s most important piece would come during the seconds right before she was kissed, she would have said that such a seed, planted at a project’s conception but growing untamed inside a moment of pure bliss, was impossible. She had only to look past her own far-reaching distrust of happiness to find evidence that her theory was true. Even dismissing the outliers of mental illness—the Van Goghs, the Sylvia Plaths—people as far back as Aristotle and Milton intuited the correlation between the maudlin and creative genius, a state which Livie knew modern research supported. Simply put, happy people were less inspired.

So why, on the cusp of being exceptionally kissed, had Livie experienced her greatest breakthrough yet?

Twelve hours later, she still had no explanation, but the moment sparked something inside her so incandescent, so electric, so scorching, she had yet to sleep. Part of her dismissed the flash as something that came from accepting Wes’s invitation to stay for the holidays and realizing she would not lose momentum. In truth, New York seemed cold after Close Call. Another part of her was so glad to put the foam molding behind her and sink her fingers into clay, she explained away the euphoria as a natural byproduct of leaving the draining planning stages of a project. The smallest, most miniscule part suspected that she might be wrong. How could something that forged an impenetrable and divine connection between cognition and emotion—as Wes’s kiss had—be bad?

At dawn, she sneaked out of the barn, watched the sunrise, and nearly wept. Fatigue. Beauty. Her project becoming reality. She had learned the closest hill had the best cell phone reception, but it was a place so sacrosanct to the Meier clan that she kept her distance from the family burial plot. She called her father in New York to tell him she wasn’t coming and asked him to box and ship Daniel’s letters. The ones where he spoke of Close Call, of Wes, would be the most healing. Wes was Daniel’s hero. Her hero. Wes was her statue, her inspiration, and it was long past time he viewed himself in that light.

For if he could feel it, she could capture it. Close enough to witness, to mine it so others could feel it, too, when they looked upon her bronze. Close enough to use, but far enough to walk away. Because the greatest part of her knew that falling in love would ruin her as an artist.

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