“Folks who buy all you folks’ art wish they could meet you.” Leo chuckled. “I tell them that you are all recluses, but they don’t believe me. I’ve even had some magazine editors call me to set up interviews.”
“Not interested in either.” Josh smiled. “We just want to do what we love, sell it, and live simply out here in our corner of the world.”
“I understand,” Leo said. “I’ll see you next month.”
“You should come around in the evening sometime and have supper with all of us,” Josh offered.
“Can I bring a newspaper reporter?” Leo grinned.
“Only if you want to die,” Josh answered.
Leo laughed out loud, picked up the two canvases, and in two strides was at the door. Then he turned around. “Does Emma know how you feel about her?”
Josh’s cheeks burned. “What do you mean?”
“Anyone who can make that”—Leo nodded toward the picture—“has feelings for the subject. There’s pain and love both featured there.”
“I’m not sure that I know how I feel about her,” he said. Just the thought of a relationship with Emma made him nervous, and yet the idea of her leaving made him so sad that he wanted to cry.
“Well, when you figure it out, don’t be too shy to tell her,” Leo suggested.
When he was gone, Josh picked up the picture of Emma and carried it to his bedroom. He hung it on the only wall big enough to support it and then sat down on the end of his bed and stared at it. “Why would I tell her anything? It might just scare her away,” he whispered.
Emma was about to be all alone for the first time since she left her college apartment. She’d told Sophie that she would be fine, but now she had doubts. What if she had another nightmare? What if more than the rape had happened, and it all came to the surface? She wouldn’t feel right calling Sophie in the middle of the night or waking Filly up, either. She tore into a bag of chocolate doughnuts and ate a few straight out of the bag for breakfast. “Will you call me when you get to Del Rio and tell me what all this big talk is about?”
“Of course.” Sophie put another shirt into the open suitcase on the sofa. “To tell the truth, I’ll probably need you to help me sort out whatever is going on.”
“You don’t think he’s about to break up with you, do you?” Emma asked.
“It’s crossed my mind. He’s always said that he wants a family, and I’m not sure if I do,” Sophie answered.
“Well, I’d think that’s something that you should definitely agree on.” Emma wondered if she should even think about children. Getting pregnant involved sex, and she wasn’t sure she could ever do that after what had happened. Maybe she should talk to a therapist about that sometime.
“You’ll be okay, right?” Sophie stopped packing and joined Emma at the bar. “I don’t care what time of day or night it is, if you need me, you call.”
Emma shoved the bag of doughnuts over toward Sophie. “I will, and you do the same. I’ll work every day until you get back to pass the time. I still can’t believe that I’ve sold two paintings. Well, not sold, but they are out on commission. What if no one likes them or buys them?”
Sophie ate a third tiny doughnut. “Since you’re a newbie, I wouldn’t be surprised if Leo calls you when they sell. He’s a good man, and he runs a really neat little store and gallery over in Terlingua. Maybe someday we can drive down there and you can see for yourself.”
“How big is that town?” Emma asked.
“It’s almost a ghost town, but there’s a few little shops, and folks come from miles around to go to Big Bend park. Leo’s place has a reputation that’s known all over the world, and lots of buyers come from the big cities like New York City and Los Angeles. If he puts your stuff in his shop, it’s a big step up, believe me,” Sophie answered.
Emma took a sip of her coffee. “No pressure.”
“He’s also brutally honest. If he hadn’t liked your work, he would have said so.” Sophie slid off the barstool and took a pair of jeans from the dryer, folded them, and laid them in the suitcase. “I’m never sure what all to pack for a trip, and this is all the way to Europe.”