Snowscape (Six Weeks In Winter Book 1) by KT Morrison

Author:KT Morrison [Morrison, KT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

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When they got back home, she went in the kitchen and boiled a kettle. Maceo brought in the items for Costco, put them in the pantry and then went upstairs to get changed. She texted John and said she wouldn’t be by the depot, asked how his day was going. He got back to her saying terrible. That Rico had ruined a trailer out at the TSC in Hamburg and he was still there, plus he had a few calls to do, had to go back to the shop, too. He said he called, but she said she mustn’t have heard it. John said he was going to be late.

She put tea bags in a teapot and filled it with boiling water and Maceo came down ready to paint. He wore a plain white T-shirt, and a pair of paint-spattered shorts. His legs were bare, but hairy and muscular.

“Let me get changed,” she told him, then went upstairs and put on her painting clothes—an ancient flannel shirt of John’s, and a pair of jeans. She decided to go barefoot like Maceo.

When she came back down, he wasn’t in the kitchen. There was one steaming mug on the counter and she picked it up, went through the hallway to the pantry and then through the doors into the addition. Maceo was standing by the easel she’d brought back from the school and set up for him. But he was looking at a painting of hers on the easel beside. A landscape; snow, farm fence, mostly sky; a dilapidated barn. Painted from a picture taken on her iPhone just a few miles from here. She came behind him, and he was undisturbed, his eyes still going over her work.

She said, “You still like it?” When she’d shown him around the place last night, he’d seen the painting and said it was beautiful.

He said, “I love the color. Or the lack of color. It says so much.”

“That’s just how I saw it.”

“I don’t know what you saw, but what you put down here tells me something. I feel like I know this place.”

“Yeah,” she said, “it looks like everywhere else around here.”

“That’s what you like to do? Landscape?”

“Yes. I can spend hours in here—it’s a great way to pass the time.”

He cocked his head, still looking at the painting. He said, “I don’t think your work is about passing time.”

“Well that’s what I do it for. Now the kids are out of the house, seems like all I want to do is stand in here and paint.”

“It’s not passing time, Jane. You look for something.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “What am I looking for?”

He turned now to face her, said, “You don’t know what you’re trying to tell everybody,” he cocked his head toward her painting.

“I’m glad you have such profound insight into my work,” she said and sipped her tea.

“Somebody do something with purpose, it deserves to be, uh, studied. No, uh, considered...”

She said, “Do you think this shows merit?”

“Merit?”

“Value. Worth.”

“Ability, for sure.

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