At the sight of my creation, Brock’s face broke into a giant grin.
“Another chickadee, eh? You really do have an artist inside you.”
Smiling, I leaned back against the wall and shook my head.
“If I don’t paint for the next year, it won’t be too soon.”
Brock went to the bathroom to get a better look at the proud, puff-bellied chickadee on his chest. When he returned, we stared at each other’s art for a while, smiling a bit to ourselves. Then Brock went to his backpack, dug through it, and returned with a long sheet of paper.
“This way we don’t have to lose our paintings entirely.”
Tentatively poking some paint on my chest, I shook my head.
“Brock, sorry, but the paint’s dried.”
He only shook his head, grinned.
“Good thing we’ve got water.”
A second later he was leaving for the bathroom again. He returned with a pail of water. Then, spreading out the sheet of paper on the floor, he gestured to me.
“Sit down. We can start with you if that’s all right.”
I sat down obediently. Brock crouched down in front of me, dipped his paintbrush in the pail, and then paused.
“Wait. One thing first.”
“Wha—”
He kissed me. Tremors went through my body as he broke away.
“You looked so beautiful that I had to,” he said with a devilish smile.
Next thing I knew, cold dribbles of water were rolling down my front.
“I’m adding just enough to get it moist,” Brock said. “In a minute, would you be able to lie on your back? Then I’ll put the paper on top.”
“Sure,” I said, and, in a minute, I did just that.
Brock spread the paper over my belly and then my chest. He pressed on both slowly, gently yet firmly, as if applying a semi-permanent tattoo. Then, after waiting a minute, he peeled it off.
Grinning, he laid the now colorful thing beside me. “Looks good already,” he said. Then he helped me to my feet.
After one look down at the smudged rendition of the seedling sky painting Brock had done, I poked him in the side and said, “Your turn.”
Brock lay down, and, picking up the paper and pressing it against his painted chest and belly, I did the same thing he had done to me.
“Feels interesting,” Brock commented, and we laughed.
When I was done, we spread it out on the ground. After returning to sit on the sleeping bag, we looked at our beautiful creations.
They were impressionism versions of our works—arguably more beautiful for all the haziness.
Afterward, we showered ourselves off then sat back down on the sleeping bag side by side, his arm around me.
I opened my mouth, but he held a finger to my lips and closed his eyes.
I smiled. I understood.
Words would only ruin it. This was perfect. Here, now, with the man of my dreams beside me, my children inside me, warm in this shack tucked into nature’s breast—this was perfect.
I awoke to Brock moving.
“What?” I asked, but he shushed me.
“Hear that?” he asked, and I fell silent. I listened, and then I heard it, the far-off rumble of a vehicle coming down the road.
Brock helped me up, and then we rushed outside to my car. Ducking behind the driver’s door, we saw two blacked-out vehicles pull up. Russell and his men. We had to get out of there.
Chapter Eighteen
I raced over to the passenger’s side of the car, tore open the door, and jumped inside just as Brock did the same in the driver’s seat. I shoved the key in the ignition, and Brock slammed his foot on the gas just as their doors swung open. Gunshots followed our exit, but soon we were rumbling down the dirt road I’d come in on.
“I don’t know how they got here, Brock. I swear!” I said.
His face was grim as he nodded.
“Check the car—the glove compartment, everything. They must have bugged it.”
A scan of the bottom of the car and sun visor revealed nothing, though really, I wasn’t sure what I was even looking for.
“It’ll be a black electrical thing, about the size of a pager probably,” Brock said, answering my next question.
And there, in my glove compartment, was a black electrical thing about the size of a pager.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Brock?” I said weakly.
There was a sharp intake of breath, then a terse, “Yep. That’s it.”
In one smooth motion, he opened his window, grabbed the black thing, and tossed it outside.