Chapter Ten
A day later, when her red stripes were still fresh and profoundly sensitive, Caroline was at her easel again, painting. The dark themes of her work were even more evident than they’d been before. The need to paint had surpassed the need to keep the shop open; so she closed for the day, leaving a curt sign on the door.
It was nearly one p.m. and she’d already been painting for six hours. As the light changed in the studio, so her work changed. The canvas was filled with two forms, with male and female in passionate embrace—one that warmed as the day warmed, as the studio became more tepid and the sun on Caroline’s back more intense.
In the midst of her task, she heard a faint knock just beyond on her conscious thought, then heard it again and again, until it dawned on her tha
