| 4 Comforting Stranger |
| �If you�re sure?� He sat down again. Both sat in silence for some time. Peggy didn�t know what to say. She wished that he would just get up and leave, but she knew that wasn�t about to happen. She checked her wristwatch. 7:40p.m. When her husband didn�t arrive soon, Mike was bound to start asking questions. What could she do to distract him? An idea suddenly popped into her head. �I have a studio out back, would you like to see some of my work?� She pulled herself up out of the chair. �Yes, very much.� He stood up. �Lead the way.� Peggy unlocked the studio door, swung it back and switched on the overhead fluorescent light. The astringent smell of oil paint and turpentine wafted warmly out through the doorway at them as they entered the room leaving the door open. �Wow!� Mike exclaimed as he glanced around the large room. �This used to be the double garage. We�ve never housed the cars in here so I converted it to a studio.� She moved around the room pulling covers from easels and paintings from stacks lining the floor. Mike moved slowly around the artwork absorbing the contents of each piece. �These are excellent!� He continued moving around the room and finally stopped at a covered easel. �What�s under here?� �That�s something I�m still working on. You wouldn�t be interested in it.� �Why wouldn�t I?� he asked, removing the cover. Peggy rushed over and snatched the sheet out of his hand. �I told you you wouldn�t be interested in this one,� she said angrily, covering the painting. �Do you have that much sadness and anger inside you?� he asked, looking down at her and placing a hand on her arm. She stepped backwards. �It doesn�t reflect anything about me, it�s just a painting.� �Any creation reflects something of its creator, Peggy.� �What the hell would you know?� she snapped, beginning to cry. Mike reached out and pulled her to him. �What is it?� he asked gently. �Nothing,� she replied defensively, twisting out of his arms and moving away from him, remembering the frightening thoughts she�d conjured up in her mind earlier. �Why are you here? What do you want? Did you kill my husband? Are you here to kill me too?� she screamed at him. �No, Peggy. Why would you think that? You said your husband was working...now you say he�s dead. I had nothing to do with it, I give you my word,� he assured her. Peggy pushed her face into her hands and sobbed. She had been holding all the pain and grief inside since the funeral and now it came flooding out. Mike moved toward her. �Come here, let me hold you.� �No...I can�t,� she sobbed, shaking her head. He reached out and drew her close to him. �Everyone needs someone to hold them, especially when they�re in pain. What makes you any different?� She sobbed even harder against his chest. �I�m sorry for accusing you. I don�t have any right, but I have no one else to blame. My husband was a wonderful man, why would anyone want to kill him?� She looked up into his face, her eyes filled with tears. �There are alot of diseased people in this world who have their own agendas and don�t care who they hurt in the process.� �But, why him?� She searched his face for an answer. �It�s said that when it�s your time to go...� Peggy�s body tightened, she pulled herself abruptly away from him. �That�s bullshit! He was only 36 years old; he had his whole life ahead of him.� �Do you think God took him from you, Peggy?� �I don�t know what to believe anymore.� She moved to the doorway, then turned and looked at him. �Do you think he did?� �No, I don�t. Do you want to tell me what happened?� �I can�t.� She raised her hand to her forehead. �I can�t even bear to think about it, let alone talk about it to some stranger.� �Sometimes a stranger is the best person to talk to.� Peggy sighed. �It hurts too much.� |