Chapter 21 The Painter
The boy led her through the twisting streets. Every once in awhile he would. Something out until her story about it. By the time they made it to the street the candle shop set on Zara new the names of his siblings, mother, deceased father and that his sister Mary was getting married in a year.

Francis considered Conor old at twenty. Connor was Mary's intended and the middle son of a tanner. Francis also considered love stupid and hated it when Connor made "sappy eyes" at his sister.

It was a struggle to keep her footing on the old road. Where the stone had been broken or carted off wagons and cards handmade deep ruts in the road. The road repeatedly tried to trip her and toss her to her knees.

They had long pasted the scent of fish and sea. The new scents we're not much better than the fish. They were unfortunately close to the dump and a multitude of rot and smells reaked in the air. They finally came to a two story building. The whole building was gray cracked wood. If it had ever been painted or whitewashed there was no evidence of it. The lower level had a single door to the left and a window to the right of the door. The window was so opaque that you couldn't say the things hanging on the other side. You could only make out faint shapes and colors. Both of the shutters were open and tied back with short strings of thin rope.

Francis led her to the side of the building where they found a narrow flight of mismatched wooden stairs.

"He lives up there." Francis said and pointed up the stairs.

Zara handed him some coins, thanked him and headed up the stairs. His own thank you ringing in the air behind her.

Despite the fact the stairs looking rickety and dangerous they were surprisingly sturdy.

Hands at her sides the railing almost brush the back of her left hand and the house almost touched her right.

At the top of the stairs she paused. She was nervous. She hadn't seen Leo in years. They had been friends before her banishment from home. She worried what he would think of her now.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush a silent air. She knocked tentatively three times up on the door .

When the door opened she recognized her cousin almost instantly.

His eyes were the same dark wood color they had always been but there was a suspiciousness that had never been there before. The suspicion cleared after he studied her face.

His hair was long enough to reach his shoulders but it was dull and lifeless. He still stood straight and a matched her short height.

Like Francis he was too skinny. His skin looked pale and splotched with small round scars.

"Hello, Leo." she said seconds after the door opens. "Its been a long time cousin."

He smiled. His teeth not as white as she remembered.

"Come in." he said and took a step back. "I believe you know the other guests."

Zara entered. Lights filtered in from the unshattered windows. Leo shut the door behind her.

She barely noticed the small space was sparsely furnished. There was a bed to her left, two chairs in front of her. Behind the chairs was an easel and another chair. To the left of the easel was a small round table and two additional chairs set a few feet from a wood cook stove. There were a few trunks scattered around the room.

There was a combination of 6 windows on three of the walls. The fourth wall had no openings of any kind, it's wood made of mismatched colors.

But the one thing that held her attention was the person tied to a chair at the round table.

"Miles.' She yelled in a shocked voice, she rushed forward.

"Sorry about that." Leo stated behind her.

She started untying the rope binding Miles wrist to the chair.

"I was unsure what I should do." Leo said.

Zara looked up at him. She shook her head then resumed untying and ungagging Miles.

As soon as the gag fails to his chin, Miles said with a look of sheepishness, "He surprised me."

"What is going on here," Zara asked exasperated.

"He came here and said that he knew you. He told me where you were. I thought that you just wanted to see me. But then he started talking and asking about someone else." Leo said his hands flew as he spoke. Now the hand movements were frantic. "Someone I painted a few years ago." He shook his head. "You don't understand. That woman is dead."

"Leo, Leo, calm down." Zara told him. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"You don't understand, Zara. The man that commissioned the painting / I think he killed her. I was there painting her. We took a break went to talk to him, something about the wedding. I never saw her again. He said she killed herself." he said walking around in a tight pacing circle. "I don't believe that." He shook his head.

Zara shared a look with Miles.

"I didn't know she was dead. So I went back to finish another sitting. I was informed that I was no longer needed."

He walked over to the easel. Zara and Myles followed. He picked up a clean brush.

"A year so later the man tracked me down. He demanded that I finish the painting. I barely remembered what the girl looks like. It wasn't until he produced the unfinished painting that I remembered, he filled in details I couldn't remember."

He opened a jar of paint and sit on the chair by the easel. He started layering the blank canvas with orange paint.

"It was harder to paint a portrait from memory. He allowed me to bring the canvas with me. Still it took me almost a year. He sent someone every month for the painting. There were times the," he paused as if searching for the right word, "request for for the painting was less than socialable."

"Leo, do you know why he wanted the painting so badly?"

"No. He said he saw her. He didn't say where." he said as he grabbed another jar of paint. He opened it poured some on a pallet and dipped the orange saturated brush into it. The orange blended with the red and he wiped it over the canvas. He glanced at Zara. He smiled.

Zara's heart filled with pitty. There was a quality to his eyes that said he wasn't completely there. Zara didn't understand. He was different. Zara fought against tears.

"She was haunting him, ya know. He saw her ghost." He grinned. He held the brush and pushed the paint on the canvas. "I see it to." He added.

Zara looked at Miles. He reached out and took her in his arms. Leo continued talking.

"He wasn't happy with my painting. He said it didn't look enough like her. He tried to make me do it again. He was mad when I told him that was how I remembered her. He said her skin didn't look as dark, said she wasn't that pretty. He let his friends beat me." He reached for another jar of paint. He poured more paint. He used the same brush.

"I get headaches and my leg hurts. But my painting is still good." Again he added another color of paint.

Zara had thought about telling him the truth. Now she didn't think she could.

She wanted to change the subject.

"Leo, the boy, Francis, said you wanted to invite me to lunch." She said as she moved out of Miles arms.

Leo paused, the brush suspended mid stroke. After a moment he spoke.
"Yes. Yes, I did." he looked at the equipment scattered all about him. "Just let me clean my brushes and put away the paints." he told them as he stood.

Miles and Zara watched as he moved about the tiny apartment. It only took him about ten minutes to clean his brushes and have everything tidy.

He rummaged in a trunk and found a few provisions to serve as lunch. There was a thick loaf of bread with thick crust and a soft fragrant center, a small hunk of meat, a bit of cheese, two apples and a pear.

"Would you like some help preparing lunch?" Zara ask her cousin.

"No, thank you, Z. This will only take me a minute." Leo told her as he placed a flat piece of board on the table. He quickly had the two apples and the pear cut and cored. He cut the cheese in six pieces. He then went about slicing the meat into super thin strips. He divided the loaf of bread into 6 equal portions.

He went back to the trunk and pulled out three wooden plates. After he sat the 3 plates on the table he retrieved the chair by the easel.

"Come, come. Let's eat." he said.

Zara smiled, he seemed to be back to normal.