Megan's Way Read Online Free PDF Page B

striking
hot on her bare shoulders, and the smell of salt in the air, she
had watched the stranger approach, and had felt an unfamiliar
frisson.
    His pace had slowed as he had neared her
booth, and she had quickly turned and busied herself propping up
her paintings. Aware of his presence, a heat behind her, she began
to hum. Hum!
    His voice, soft as a whisper, gave her pause.
She envisioned physically touching his words, sure that if they
were tangible they would feel as soft as silk and be colored in
smooth reds and faded purples. She glanced up as nervous as a
teenage girl. Her eyes found his. They were the color of the ocean
in the evening; such a deep blue, she felt as though she might fall
into them.
    He smiled.
    Riveted to the ground where she knelt, she
awkwardly tried to use the table to pull herself to her feet. Never
before had she been breathless over a man. This was new to
her—frightening. She nervously cleared her throat, and produced a
faint, “Hello.” inside she screamed at herself, What is wrong
with you?
    He asked about her paintings and her
inspirations. She gave brief answers, but her mind was not her own.
It was as if something were flittering about in her head, taking
her concentration and leaving a light, airy feeling behind. She
averted her gaze, to keep from falling back into the abyss of his
sensual eyes.
    He reached out to shake her hand, “Lawrence
Childs.” When she took his large hand in hers, a heat rushed to her
center. She withdrew her right hand, unsure if she wanted his hand
back in her own or if she wanted to flee. Megan had seen women
react that way to men, though she had never understood it, or
experienced such a reaction firsthand. She’d seen Holly overcome
with infatuation many times over the course of their lives. When
Holly had cried over her latest breakup, Megan couldn’t understand
her pain. He’s just a guy, for God’s sake. Get over it. Don’t be
such a loser, there’s a million more like him around the
corner.
    Lawrence asked if she had ever painted wall
murals, and Megan was so lost in his world of touch and sound that
his words barely registered. While Megan had painted murals of all
sizes, she had never actually been commissioned to do so. Most of
her wall work had been done as donations for charity or helping
other artists meet their deadlines. Her large canvases were what
paid her rent.
    Lawrence Childs, with his deep blue eyes and
seductive voice, offered Megan fifteen thousand dollars to paint a
mural in his home. He squinted and shaded his eyes from the burning
sun. A glorious smile spread across his tanned skin, as an
overwhelmed Megan nodded her head in acceptance and wondered what
on earth she was doing.
     
     
    Olivia was pouring over her math homework at
the kitchen table when Megan walked in.
    “Hey.” Megan’s greeting was met with silence,
and she was becoming a little annoyed at her daughter’s teenage
attitude—she had been putting up with Olivia’s silent treatment for
three weeks now and was at the breaking point of being a patient,
understanding mother. She was fed up with it. “Olivia, you could at
least say hello!”
    Olivia slammed her pencil on the table and
looked at Megan with angry eyes. Megan lifted her eyebrows in
response.
    “Mom, why are you getting sick again?” Olivia
accused.
    Megan was taken aback, silent.
    “Uh-huh. I heard you in the bathroom before
dinner the other night.” Olivia’s eyes bored into her mother’s
back, bony and small, as she moved around the kitchen.
    “Oh, honey, I just didn’t feel well.” Megan
stared out the window, unwilling to let Olivia see the sadness in
her eyes. “Mom! You can tell me, you know. I can take it if you’re
sick again.” Olivia stood up as her voice grew louder, harsher. She
couldn’t stop her lower lip from trembling or the tears from
flowing. “It’s like all of a sudden you don’t tell me anything! You
don’t even spend time with me! What’s going on, Mom?”