What the Heart Knows: A Milford-Haven Novel - Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

makes four. And how long have I been at this? I’ve lost track of time again
. She glanced out at the moon, noting it was lower now, its color beginning to shift from silver to gold as it sank toward the ocean.
It’ll set soon, and we’ll have some black sky before dawn, so I’ll have a chance to sleep a little. I think I’m finished work for tonight
.
    Stepping to her worktable, she picked up her X-acto knife and carefully sliced below the end of the painted image, separating it from the heavy roll. She lifted the top edge enough to drag the long sheet parallel to the others, which were laid out on the studio floor to dry. Tomorrow she’d mount the stepladder and tack the vertical images to the wall. For now, she stared down at the new work and its three companion pieces, finished earlier that evening.
    She stood back to examine the four scrolls. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It’s the four seasons!” Amazed this hadn’t occurred to her before, she now saw clearly that the four six-foot-high water paintings described the subtle elements of California’s coastal seasons: a pine for winter; a blooming crape myrtle for spring; an olive tree for summer; and a persimmon for autumn.
Maybe I didn’t notice at first because the images are black-and-white
.
    The piece she’d just finished was of the persimmon tree, its drooping-leaves and multi-stemmed trunk so reminiscent ofAsia. Yet she learned they’d been imported to California in the 1800s, and they were now as much a part of the Central Coast as any native tree. The bright orange color of the fruit came into her mind, highlighting the fall season when it ripened.
    She glanced down at the bottom corner, where she’d added that final swirl of paint.
What is it? It looks like … a kitten!
Kneeling, she inspected the small image more carefully.
I know I had no particular definition in mind when I created it
. She remembered laying the wet brush sideways, then dotting it here and there as she lifted it off the page. But now, there they were, the distinct feline features—head and whiskers, tail and feet.
    “Hello,” she said to the impish picture. “Thanks for the visit!”
    Tired to the bone, Miranda stood, stretched and sighed.
Now for the cleanup
. It took her a good half hour to wash the brushes, empty the buckets, and secure anything else she might’ve left open in her workspace. By the time she flipped the light switch and headed downstairs to her bedroom, she was already half asleep.
    I’ll shower in the morning
, she thought.
But it’s already morning!
Too tired to make sense of the chronology, she washed her face, brushed her teeth and collapsed under her comforter.
It’d be nice to cuddle up with that little kitty I drew
. She smiled at the fantasy and imagined the kitty tiptoeing across the covers.
    Those four scrolls… they’re great, but I’d love to do them in full color. Maybe I can take the four seasons idea and incorporate it into my miniature watercolor postcards…
.
    As she reached to turn out the light on her nightstand,something caused her to choke. Gasping, she reached for the water bottle she kept handy by the bed, sputtering as she took a gulp.
What in the world?
It wasn’t as though she’d gagged on a morsel of food, or swallowed down the wrong pipe. She’d been choking
before
she took the swig of water.
    She shuddered, trying to sense the source of whatever she might be feeling.
Is something bad about to happen?
    No, not in Milford-Haven
, she reassured herself.
Bad things don’t happen here
.

    Jack Sawyer’s alarm clock stuttered into life, its plastic frame cracked from abuse. A heavy hand swept down and banged the “snooze” button, then retreated under the covers.
    Jack hadn’t slept well. Keeping one step ahead of town, county, and state regulations didn’t usually keep him up at night. But now he had to contend with Samantha. No matter what he did, he could never seem to get away from that woman.
    He swung his legs