A Portrait of Emily by J.P. Bowie Page B

forward to seeing Emily again for her next sitting. He was pleased with the preliminary work and when Eve had dropped by earlier he had let her see it.
    “What a lovely girl. Such beautiful hair.”
    “Yes, she’s very attractive and doesn’t seem to be aware of it at all. It’s almost as if she thinks she’s quite plain.”
    “False modesty?”
    “No, no, I don’t think it’s that. I get the feeling she believes herself to be unattractive.”
    “Why on earth would she believe that?”
    “Well, the parents are a bit cold. Jeff and I thought the father was not the kind of man to throw compliments around. Might even be a bit cruel in his way.”
    “What a shame. But you said she’s engaged?”
    “Yes, and he seems to be a nice guy. They make a great couple.”
    When Emily arrived Peter introduced her to Eve, who made a point of complimenting her on her appearance.
    “Your mother is so sweet,” Emily said after Eve left.
    “She’s the best,” Peter agreed. “How’s Jerry?”
    “Oh, he’s swell. Says to tell you and Jeff hello and he’s dying to see how the portrait’s shaping up. His words Peter, not mine.”
    Peter chuckled. “Well, you tell him it’s shaping up just fine. Come and look.”
    Emily stood by his side and stared quietly at her likeness. “Do you really see me like that?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, look at my hair. You’ve made it so dark and rich looking. I’ve always thought of it as ordinary .”
    “Now look here young lady, this has got to stop.”
    “Excuse me?” Emily looked at him in surprise.
    “This—putting yourself down all the time. You are a very attractive young woman, blessed with the most gorgeous hair I’ve seen in a long time. Some women would kill for your hair. Plus you have lovely blue eyes. Hell, doesn’t Jerry ever tell you this stuff?”
    Emily blushed. “Yes, all the time, but I…”
    “Well, believe him. Because he’s right.” He patted her arm gently. “Now go sit over there and no more self-flagellation today, if you don’t mind.”
    Emily sat demurely on the chaise lounge and Peter grinned at her. Their eyes met and once more Peter was momentarily stunned by the connection that was made. For a moment he thought he could see a look of terror on her face, but just as quickly the vision faded.
    Where did these sensations come from?
    Ever since he recovered from the coma he’d been aware that somehow that trauma had awakened in him some kind of paranormal sense. For a time he’d attributed it to his conviction that Phillip had, in a sense, helped him put his life together again; that he was leading Peter to discover who was responsible for the cowardly actions that had changed their lives forever. But these strange sensations had not stopped, even after the mystery was solved, for here again it seemed he could see and feel what most everyone else could not.
    “You all right, Peter?” Emily’s concern was etched on her face.
    “Yes…” He picked up his brush and busied himself with color mixing. “Just daydreaming—sorry.”
    He worked in silence for a time, but his mind whirled as he tried to fathom just what had happened a moment before. He was reticent about asking Emily too many personal questions. She would have all the right in the world to tell him to mind his own business and yet he felt there was something she wanted to tell him. What she did say next floored him.
    “Do you know any nice single gay men, Peter?”
    “What?”
    “Well, do you?”
    “Uh, well, not many. One or two maybe. Why do you ask?”
    “This is going to sound like I’m being a busybody, but well…my brother Anthony is gay and, I think, very unhappy. You see, his friend was killed a few months ago and I just found all this out the other night. We hadn’t really talked since he got back home and then he came in and told me all this stuff and I didn’t have a clue, which made me feel bad because I thought I knew him, and there’s this whole