Chapter Eight
Anastasia entered her parents’ hotel room, her sketchbook in one hand and her pencils ready to go in their pouch. Another day of discovery awaited her. She thought she’d begin in the park and then walk toward the train station. Maybe she’d even treat herself to some ice cream while she was out.
As she rounded the corner, however, she saw her father slumped in a chair near the window.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. This couldn’t be happening, not so soon. She raced to his side, reaching out to touch him, but her mother was there first, catching her arm and stopping her.
“He’s just asleep,” Leola said, her tone soft. “Look—he’s breathing normally.”
Anastasia focused on his chest, on the gentle rise and fall, and she swallowed. “I thought . . .”
“I know, my dear.” Leola wrapped her arms around Anastasia and held her close for a moment. “I know. But he only stayed up too late last night reading—he feels fine otherwise.”
“Hmm? What?” James blinked, turning his head from side to side. “What were you saying?”
Leola smiled. “Nothing. Why don’t you lie down for a little while? I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why should a grown man take a nap in the middle of the morning as though he’s some sort of baby?”
“Because he’s tired.” Leola bent over and kissed the top of his head.
“I think that’s exactly what we should do.
Lie down and get some rest, and I’ll go with Anastasia today.
She’s been wandering around quite unchaperoned the last few days, and while I don’t regret giving her some freedom, I find myself curious to see what’s been keeping her occupied. ”
“I suppose you might be right.” James stood up, but clearly wasn’t fully awake yet as he had to catch his balance on the back of the chair. “I will take a nap, but only for an hour or two. I refuse to coddle myself even if we are on a leisure trip.”
“Have a good rest, Father,” Anastasia told him, and after Leola gathered her things, they left the room together.
Anastasia’s heart still trembled from the shock of seeing her father that way.
She had been trying to accept the idea of his eventual passing and she had thought she was becoming settled with it.
This had only shown her how very wrong she was.
As though she could read her daughter’s mind, Leola tucked her arm through Anastasia’s as they strolled through the hotel lobby. “It will happen someday, but not today,” she said, her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard by the other guests milling about.
“And when it does . . . Oh, Mother. How will we bear it?”
“I honestly don’t know. But we will have each other—that’s my comfort. You are my comfort.”
***
“You’re right. This is a lovely little park.” Leola sat down on one bench while Anastasia took the other. “I can see why you keep disappearing here. This is where you drew those lovely pine trees, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The real ones are over there.” Anastasia motioned toward the trees where she’d taken her inspiration.
“And I believe this is also where you met that very handsome young man halfway through your book,” Leola continued.
“That’s right. I still consider it a stroke of fate to find him here—he was excellent practice.”
“Well, I think fate has decided to give you another opportunity.” Leola nodded over Anastasia’s shoulder, and she turned to look. Mr. Kendall was coming up the sidewalk, a smile on his face.
Anastasia was suddenly nervous, and she had no idea why. She rarely felt nervous about anything.
“And he’s even better-looking in person,” Leola added in a whisper.
“Mother!” Anastasia prayed that Mr. Kendall hadn’t overheard.
When he reached them, he didn’t act uncomfortable, so she assumed they were safe. Thank goodness.
“Hello, Miss Smith,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “And is this your mother?”
“Yes. Mother, this is Mr. Kendall.”
Leola beamed at him. “Well, of course you are. I recognized you immediately from my daughter’s drawing.”
“Oh? You’ve gotten to see it? I was forbidden, so you can understand my jealousy.”
“You were only forbidden until the piece was finished. As it turns out, I have finished it now, so you may see it if you like.”
He immediately took a seat beside her. “Of course I want to see it! I’ve wanted nothing else since the beginning.”
Anastasia opened her book and flipped to the right page, then handed it to him. “Fingers at the edges, please—don’t smudge the lead.”
“I would never dream of smudging the lead.” He held the book carefully, holding the drawing to the light. Anastasia wondered what was going through his head—did he like it? Was he offended? Why wasn’t he giving any indication at all as to what he was thinking?
At long last, he turned to Leola. “I must congratulate you on your daughter, Mrs. Smith. She has a remarkable talent.”
“We’ve always thought so,” Leola said. “But of course, all parents think their children are the smartest, the most special . . .”
“And in your case, you’re correct.” Mr. Kendall handed the sketchbook back to Anastasia, but without saying anything to her directly.
She couldn’t sit there demurely, as she assumed she was supposed to. Her ego was still too fragile to be ignored. “You liked it, Mr. Kendall?”
“I liked it very much, Miss Smith. I don’t think anyone has ever given me a greater compliment than what you paid me in that drawing.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
He grinned. “Because your reaction in this moment is much more entertaining.”
Leola laughed. “I can see you have a sense of humor, Mr. Kendall.”
“I never thought I did, but as I’ve become acquainted with Miss Smith over the last few days, I’ve been proven wrong.” He turned back to Anastasia. “I thought you would be gone by now.”
“Are you disappointed that we’re still here?”
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m glad of it. If you’d left without showing me your picture, I would have felt cheated.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want that.”
“Nor would I.”
Anastasia wondered what her mother was thinking as she listened to this conversation.
Anastasia hardly knew what she herself was thinking.
Why was it so natural to banter with Mr. Kendall when she could hardly string two words together with any other man?
It was probably the fact that she would never see him again after this trip, so she had no reason to try to impress him.
She felt entirely free to be herself, and she liked that very much.
“Ladies, I have an offer to make,” Mr. Kendall said. “There’s a charming restaurant another block down the street, and I’m on my way there for lunch. Would you be my guests? You’d be saving me from the horrible fate of utterly wretched boredom.”
“Mr. Kendall, as I can’t stand the thought of any human being experiencing utterly wretched boredom, we’d be delighted to accept.” Leola stood up and offered him her arm. After only the slightest pause, he took it, and they made their way to the restaurant together.
They were seated at a table near the window, and Anastasia noticed once again how the sunshine brought a new layer and depth to Mr. Kendall’s eyes.
She might attempt a new picture, one that focused entirely on his eyes rather than his full face.
He had so many expressions that it would surely take a series of pictures to record them all, even though she did think his most common expression was the one she’d already drawn.
“And that’s how we came to be in Denver,” Leola was saying, and Anastasia realized that once again, her mind had wandered while those around her were talking about something else.
“My husband has a deep interest in history, so one of our first stops was the Four Mile House Museum. It was a pleasure to learn more about your city and how it came to be established.”
“Thank you. I don’t consider it my city yet, but in another few years, I’m sure I will.”
“You haven’t lived in Denver long, then?” Leola asked.
“No, I was born in Albany. I relocated here with my family a couple of years ago.”
“And your wife enjoys it here?”
Anastasia shook her head. She’d already told her mother that Mr. Kendall wasn’t married, but of course, Leola had to verify that fact for herself.
“I have no wife, Mrs. Smith. I do have a mother, a brother, and a sister, though. They like it here—well, my mother and sister do. My brother has been harder to convince.”
“I suppose Albany is very different from here,” Leola said after taking a sip of her tea.
“Yes. The mountains are very different, for one.”
“I noticed that right off,” Anastasia said.
It was time for her to join the conversation and stop drifting off on the wings of her imagination, even though that was a very pleasant place to be.
“There’s something wild and untamed about this mountains, as though they refuse to conform to expectations. ”
Mr. Kendall laughed. “I agree completely, Miss Smith. What a delightful way you have of explaining it.”
“It’s quite a coincidence that you were raised in Albany, Mr. Kendall,” Leola said. “Anastasia attended Vassar, which is only a short distance away from Albany.”
“Yes, she mentioned she’s a recent graduate. Yet another reason to be impressed by her.” Mr. Kendall gave Anastasia a nod. “Is that where you live, then? In Poughkeepsie?”
“No, we’re from Philadelphia,” Leola replied. “It was difficult sending Anastasia so far away from us, but her education was important, so we bore it as best as we could. Having her back has been a tremendous blessing.”
“I’m sure it has been.”
Anastasia appreciated the kind things that were being said about her, but she wished she felt as though they were talking to her instead. She finished her bowl of soup, declined the main course, and asked for a lemon tart instead. She smiled when Mr. Kendall did the same.
“A tart is similar to pie, isn’t it, Miss Smith?” he asked, turning to her for one of the first times during their meal.