The Impressionist Read Online Free PDF Page A

strangers? For all I know you could have had a gun or something. Aren’t you worried about how people may perceive you? Why not just paint one of those Hooded Mergansers?”
    Jim Ed paused a moment considering my questions. His pause made me regret asking, for he wasn’t breaking any speed records for painting. When he talked, his brush slowed almost to a stop. “Can’t let what others think stop me from doing what I’m supposed to be doing,” he said. “My painting’s not about me. I told you it’s a gift.” Jim Ed scratched his forehead with the wooden tip of the brush and glanced out over the lake. A crisp breeze raked leaves across the ground and our feet again. “And I’ll tell you something else,” he continued. “When I’m exercising my gift, I’m filled with peace. You know that feeling you get when you’re doing something and while you’re doing it calmness just takes you over, like you’re feeling God’s pleasure? I feel it right now. Can’t explain it very well, but I know that I’m doing right, that I am right where I’m supposed to be. When I paint and do what I do, well, I guess I feel like one of those ducks in the water over there. They don’t know why they need to be in it, they just know they’re supposed to be, and they’re at ease when they are.”
    “How come I haven’t seen you around here before?”
    “Oh, I’m around. The world’s a big place. Don’t always paint people though, only when I feel directed to them.”
    “You felt directed to me?”
    “Yes, sir. Sure did. Really it was more like ‘sent.’”
    “Sent? Oh yeah? Who sent ya?”
    “God.”
    Crap.
My stomach clenched and those angry, anxious feelings burst right back to the surface. I punched myself in the thigh with my fist for being such a sucker.
I knew it! This guy’s looney! Suffering from dementia or something. Escaped from a home. They’re probably looking for him right now!
I jumped to my feet and made a move toward the trail. “That’s it,” I shouted over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go! See ya later, man!”
    Jim Ed dropped his brush and jerked his body upright. “Adam!” he thundered once again, this time louder with even more authority than before. “Look at me!”
    I kept on walking. “I go to church, man!” I blasted. “I’ve heard enough preaching to last me three lifetimes! I don’t have time for this nonsense!”
    “You think this is about church?” Jim Ed shouted. “This is about saving your marriage and your son! It’s about saving your life! Becoming the man you were created to be!”
    For the second time that day, I stopped dead in my tracks. “My marriage?” I whispered to myself. “My son? …How’d he know?” I had covered the screen carefully. There’s no way he saw anything. Fear of losing my family gripped me. My legs wobbled and tears began to pressure the back of my eyes. “Who are you?” I asked, now facing him. “What is this?”
    An inviting warmness bathed Jim Ed’s face. “Just let me finish the painting,” he said with empathy in his voice, peace exuding from his very essence. “This is right where you need to be.”

6
    We sat in silence for some time as Jim Ed poured himself into his masterpiece. Some children were playing soccer in an open field across the trail. While mindlessly watching them run back and forth, I replayed my argument with Paige.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this! I can’t take this anymore! Something’s got to change Adam.”
    “Change! …Oh, you mean me, right? I’ve got to change?”
    Pain jabbed my gut.
“I’ve had enough. I want out. I’ve got to get out.”
Surely she couldn’t mean it? After all these years? After all we’d been through? My heart rate became rapid. Panic seized me again and I panted for breath.
    “You idiot,”
the voice in my head was back, assaulting, accusing, mocking.
“You blew it. It’s over. Paige doesn’t care enough about you to even stay and fight. Why should she?