Chapter 7
Derrick finally freed himself from Tony — not an easy thing to do when Tony wanted to chat — and hurried back to the sidewalk. It was minutes before seven o’clock, and he knew Minnette would be eager to move on.
When he stepped outside, she was not in front of the book shop where he had left her. He looked down the sidewalk. No Minnette.
Then, looking toward the fountain, he saw them: the old man and the attentive face of his young wife, already absorbed in a conversation entirely their own.
The moment had the elements of a storybook: stately oak, gleam of water, pastel hues of springtime, spectral sunlight.
Derrick remained where he was and stood out of sight — not that either of them was looking around at the moment — and watched them intently from the thirty or so yards that separated them.
After a few moments, he walked inconspicuously to the median and sat on the bench across the fountain from them.
From there he continued to observe them through the cascade of water, convinced that whatever else the old man might be, he was not a danger.
“So, why am I doing this? Yes, it is a fair question. I have never done something quite like this before.”
Theo laughed inaudibly to himself, at himself. His smile widened; the lines around his eyes multiplied and deepened as he looked at Minnette.
“And I don’t know that I can tell you exactly how the idea occurred to me or why.
When I saw all the faces there on the wall — I looked at them for hours — I felt something for them, as if I knew all of you somehow or wanted to know you.
A good artist can make one do that, you know?
The display is beautiful, of course — I’m sure you’ve seen it, yes?
— but the portraits, at least to me, all seemed to belong somewhere else.
Not on the wall of a coffee shop, at least not for long.
I intend to buy all of them one by one and send them to their homes. ”
He paused and looked at his hands, at the wrapped portrait.
Minnette said nothing, so he continued, his voice barely audible above the street noise and fountain.
“Well, honestly, I was surprised that so many of the portraits had not yet been bought by their rightful owners, ones like you. Or at least by someone who loves you.”
Minnette nodded, smirked, and rolled her eyes. “Funny you should say that. My husband was supposed to buy mine weeks ago, but he kept putting it off. It is very nice of you to do this. I was a bit suspicious when I first got your letter.”
Theo nodded. “I’m not surprised by that at all, and I am happy for your bravery. Maybe this is a way for me to make some friends here in Golden.”
“You said in your letter that you’re a newcomer here. Are you here to stay? Do you have family here?”
The old man paused and squinted with a tilt of the head. “I’m not so sure. But I’m happy to be here for now, and I like the town very much. Have you lived here all your life?”
It would occur to Minnette later that Theo had artfully evaded her inquiry and somehow kept the conversation focused on her.
He was a flurry of questions, all very appropriate and asked in a tone of genuine interest. His eyes were fixed on hers, unwandering, and he leaned toward her in a way that suggested total presence.
She told him briefly of her childhood and education, her work as an accountant, her marriage five years ago to her high school sweetheart, and a bit about her life in the community.
Her answers were general but enough to paint a picture of her world.
Theo condensed it into a simple summary. “Your life seems like a very happy story, yes?”
Minnette answered hesitantly. “I suppose so. Not perfect, but mostly… pretty happy.”
Theo sensed there was a longer, truer answer. Her voice was tinged with regret but he dared not pry. He would take only what she offered.
“So, Mr. Theo, have you given any other portraits away?”
“My dear, you are the first.” A broad smile covered his face.
“Really? Well, I’m honored. But why me? Why did you choose this one first?”
Theo nodded, gratified by a confidence that seemed, in so short a time, to exist between them.
“Yes, why you?” He took a slow, thoughtful inhalation.
“Well, two things. When I looked at all the faces in the gallery and had the idea to find their owners, I thought it would be good to choose the kindest face among them, the gentlest of them all, and give that one first. I didn’t know how my idea might be received, so I asked myself, who looks most likely to humor an old man with a silly idea?
There are many kind faces there, you know, but this one,” Theo pointed to the wrapped portrait and then to Minnette, “this one was the kindest. I hoped to begin with someone who seemed forgiving in case I am making a mistake. So that is one reason.”
Minnette held her peace, but her eyes glistened and filled. The kindest face among them?
Everything about the moment caught her by surprise: the reverence with which the old man spoke of her, the gentleness of his voice, the generosity of his assessment. Does he really see that in me?
“But there was another reason. I am almost embarrassed to tell you.
Shall I?”
She nodded.
Theo removed the paper from Minnette’s portrait and held it upright on his knees.
“There is something in these eyes that remind me of a girl I knew many years ago, long before you were born. A girl I knew in Spain. I loved her very much, but I was a foolish young man, and I lost her. She was very beautiful, very intelligent, and very brave. It has been a long time, more than half a century, but still, after all these years, I have never forgotten her, and when I saw your eyes, all this,” Theo moved his fingers tenderly across the portrait, in a caress, on the eyelids, the brow, the cheekbone, “I was reminded of her. And I was so pleased to recall that memory.”
Theo chuckled. “Does it embarrass you to hear an old man who you barely know talking about being in love? I should bite my tongue. But even old men have young memories.”
“No, no, please, tell me more.” Minnette laughed. “I mean, it is rather embarrassing — not really, I’m teasing — but tell me more.”
And so, he did, willing to tell only the truth but not all the truth.
“Well, the girl. She cared for every living thing and for people in the most simple ways. We would go to the park to feed the birds, and she would bring sweets for the children. Oh, how she loved the children. And oh, how the children loved her. She would tell them stories and sing to them. You could look in her eyes, and you could see all love and kindness there.”
Theo paused. His eyes went distant, and the light in them dimmed ever so slightly. “I don’t know for certain, but I think her father was a difficult man. I never met him, but I think he was very much brain and not very much heart.”
Minnette’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed with total attention to the story Theo was telling.
“You see, he wanted her to be a business person, even before women were so much in business, to help run his company and to make lots of money.
She wanted to be a hundred things other than that.
A mother. An artist. A gardener. She was his only child, and she felt she would never, could never, be what he had wanted of her.
She saw only what her father saw, a girl who cared for stupid things. She felt it. She told me so.
“… But my, she was a beautiful girl, a wonderful soul. And when I saw your eyes and your face, Minnette, I saw her. So, I chose you. How could I not?”
Theo paused, his gaze fixed on the portrait. He tapped it with his finger.
“There is strength in this face.”
He paused again. “And bravery.”
Another pause. “And kindness…. Yes.”
And then, a bit more softly, “And sadness. The good kind. It is all there.”
Minnette looked at her portrait in the frame but was clearly lost in thought. She swallowed.
“So, you see sadness?”
Theo gave a small nod of affirmation and grimaced slightly. “The face belongs to one who has suffered loss. That is what I thought when I first saw it. But perhaps I am mistaken. I hope I’m wrong.”
When he turned to look at Minnette, thinking perhaps it was time to find another subject of conversation, he saw that her eyes were pooling with tears.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“It’s OK, Mr. Theo. I didn’t know it was so obvious.
But…” Her voice broke. Theo remained silent and gave her time to catch her breath.
Finally, she spoke again. “The portrait is telling you the truth. Well, sort of. I don’t know that there is any strength or bravery or kindness, but there is sadness in that face.
It has been there for a long time, and it seems to get deeper and deeper.
It doesn’t really make any sense, and it seems so stupid. ”
Theo shook his head. “No, my dear. Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something very important.”
Minnette let that thought settle in her mind.
Was it possible that, so quickly, the innocent exchange of a portrait, an unexpected gift, had opened the hearts of two total strangers to one another, across generations and backgrounds and homelands?
That she would bare her soul to an old man whom she had known for only a matter of minutes?
That she, the girl who never cried, would do so now?