Storiesonline.net
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                             Virtual Canvas
                                 by Eon

Copyright© 2010 by Eon


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Description: Kateri Mayfair used to be a promising young artist, but something changed her life forever. Nolan Adaire, a fellow artist and once a friend of hers, would like to know what. Kateri lives quietly and usually pushes people away, but when a mysterious laptop called Virtual Canvas shows up in her apartment, things start to change. She can never regain what she lost, but with a little help, and a little love from Nolan, she could mend her heart and reclaim her life.

Codes: MF cons oral slow
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Chapter 1


The tap-tap-tap of heels on the studio's stone floor could distract a deaf man. Nolan Adaire wasn't deaf—just annoyed.

He leaned back, stretching muscles sore and stiff from so many hours in front of the canvas. Most days he worked at home where he had all the peace and quiet he needed. When the art studio in town advertised a six week class with Joseph Mayfair, he'd decided he could put up with other people for a bit. The opportunity to work with someone like Mayfair didn't come very often in a man's lifetime.

The problem? Mayfair had brought his daughter Kateri along.

Not that she did much, aside from sulk around the studio, hands in her pockets, glowering over shoulders and wrinkling her nose at canvases. The noise came from her boot heels as she stalked from one end of the room to the other, her body language screaming boredom and disdain. To think she used to be the most amazing young artist in the world, Nolan thought, smothering a snort. To think he used to admire her, used to be more than a little in love with her.

The tapping stopped behind him. He held his breath, trying not to squirm even though it felt like her gaze went right through him. Something tickled his neck as Kateri leaned over his shoulder to peer closely at his work.

The scent of peaches washed over him. He scooted sideways on his stool, away from her, from the long hair that brushed his cheek. It was dark brown, almost black, and it hung in wild waves all the way down her back, like she just didn't care how long it got or how it looked. She wore a slouchy gray hoodie, her hands shoved into the pockets like she couldn't bear the thought of touching him.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"No."

He clenched his teeth. She continued to study his work, her teeth scraping over her lower lip, her brows furrowed in thought. She shouldn't really be so pretty, he thought, studying her face. Her nose was longer than was usually considered suitable for classic beauty, her cheekbones strong and sharply defined, her eyes almond shaped but a bit too large. He liked looking at her to a degree that disturbed him.

She glanced at him once, her eyes gray-blue like a cloudy sky. Then she straightened and walked away.

Before Nolan could feel relief, Kateri's father appeared at his shoulder. Joseph Mayfair studied his work with an expression similar to his daughter's.

"Too rough around the edges," he remarked after a moment. "It's sloppy."

"It's bold," Kateri responded from where she stood, studying the art of the woman next to Nolan.

"Boldness isn't everything, sweetheart. Technique is important. It should look like it was painted with his hands, not his feet."

Ouch, Nolan thought. He studied his painting with a critical eye. Maybe Mayfair was right. The man knew his stuff, after all.

Kateri straightened abruptly, jerking upward like someone had pulled her puppet strings. She shot her father an indecipherable look before stalking away. Mayfair shrugged and patted Nolan on the shoulder, then headed in the opposite direction.

Nolan sat for a moment, confused. Then he shrugged and picked his paintbrush back up. Once upon a time he'd admired Kateri; her skill and passion was unrivaled in the art world for several years. The operative word being was. One day she stopped, just up and quit without a word of explanation. The rumor was that the pressure had become too much for her. He didn't care about the reason; he hated quitters.

And boy, had that feeling proven mutual.

He sighed and leaned forward, getting back to his work. The first day of class he'd made the mistake of asking her why she quit. Now he usually didn't bother talking to her. He wasn't fifteen anymore, wasn't the boy who'd fawned over her and her art like some teenage boys fawned over bikini models. Now he had his own career to focus on.

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It's going to rain today, Kateri Mayfair thought, chafing her hands against the insides of her pockets. Again.

Lovely. She hated rain. When she was younger she'd go outside in the middle of thunderstorms and dance. Now she huddled indoors, her hands tucked beneath a heating pad that did only so much to keep out the ache.

She shifted her weight, sliding down off the stool she'd perched on for the last hour. Time to head home, before the rain came in. It wasn't like she could help very much with her father's classes. She didn't even know why he asked her to come along. Once she'd been his darling, the apple of his eye—cliché though the phrase might be. Hard to believe, considering their relationship for the last few years.

She paced slowly across the studio floor, glancing at canvases. Most of them painted like her father: classically beautiful in a way that would make Renaissance masters proud.

But Kateri's gaze was drawn, as usual, to Nolan's canvas. Everything he did, be it the ethereal delicacy of watercolors or the simple lines of charcoal, had a boldness to it. The colors were rich, the lines broad and sharp. Rough around the edges? Certainly. She still wished more of them worked like him. Most days it felt like staring at a cookie sheet full of gingerbread men: appealing, but in the end all the same.

As if he sensed her presence, Nolan turned to look at her. She froze. Kateri always wondered about him, about the bronze undertone to his skin and the dark red-brown hair that curled wildly in every direction; he looked like even his DNA wasn't sure where it came from. Especially since his eyes were a clear, deep pine green. He kept his unruly hair out of them with a ragged old bandana.

For a moment she stood there, thinking about what it would feel like to run her fingers along the hard line of his jaw, to feel the scrape of stubble against her skin. Then she realized he was staring at her quizzically and turned away, flushing.

She hurried out of the studio. Her driver Robert waited for in the parking lot, leaning against the large black car and eating a doughnut. He smiled when he saw her, the same 'I feel sorry for you' smile she got from everyone in the know. Which is like, a dozen people, give or take, she thought. Her parents, Robert, her physical therapist, her parents' maid and cook, the head of security at her apartment building, a few others.

Robert opened the back door for her and she slid inside. She sat, staring resolutely forward, as he helped her with her seatbelt. Technically she could do it herself, but threatening rain made it more difficult.

Kateri remained silent the whole way home. She only murmured a quiet thank you when Robert dropped her off outside her apartment building. Keeping her hands in her pockets, she nodded to the doorman, smiled stiffly and hurried past him. Though she knew he suspected something was wrong with her, he never offered her help, not after the first time. No one did. They left her to struggle with the elevator buttons and the keys to her apartment on her own, just as she wished.

Upstairs, in the safety of her apartment, she finally pulled her hands free of concealment. She leaned against the door and stared down at her fingers; they looked like an old woman's, knobby and crooked. They ache like an old woman's, too, she thought, pushing away from the door. She could still do most things—hold eating utensils, clean herself, brush her hair, anything mundane—but the delicacy needed for painting and drawing? That was gone.

"Wouldn't be so bad if they didn't hurt so much," she muttered. Then she sighed. "Yeah, like I believe that."

She left her keys on the kitchen counter. Kateri kicked off her sandals, letting her bare feet sink into the plush carpet. As she padded across the living room, something on the coffee table caught her eye.

It looked like a laptop, though the casing was a soft, almost bridal pink. She peered at it, noting the swirly silver writing on the top that proclaimed it a 'Virtual Canvas'; not a brand she'd ever heard of. God, not another one of these things, she thought, flopping down on the couch. The highest of high tech art computers already sat in her closet gathering dust. She suspected her mother sent them in some misguided attempt to encourage her.

"Geez, mom," she said, flipping up the top of the laptop. "Pink? Really? How is that going to change my mind?"

It looked like any normal laptop, not like those high tech things. Yet it startled her by turning on even though she hadn't pressed the power button.

While it booted up, she stared off into the distance, remembering. Being in the studio made more than her hands ache. She watched the other artists with longing and tried not to hate them because they could still paint. She tried not to knock heads with Nolan, even though he regarded her so disdainfully. Unlike the others, she remembered him. For a few brief seconds when she first saw him again, she thought maybe this class would be better because she knew someone. And then he'd asked about her work, about why she'd stopped, and the look in his eyes...

"Hello, Kateri."

She jumped. Her heart thudded loudly against her ribs as she looked around for the source of the voice. One hand reached for the coffee table, for a heavy pewter ashtray that she never actually used. How could someone get in her apartment? The security on this building was fantastic; she'd made sure of it before moving in.

"Ah, no. Over here, my dear. Look at the computer, Kateri."

Slowly she turned her head, still gripping the ashtray as tightly as her ruined fingers allowed. The computer screen was mostly blank except for the figure of a man. That is a man, isn't it? she thought, leaning closer. With his androgynous features and snowy white hair, it was a bit hard to tell.

"What?" Kateri said, staring.

"It's lovely you meet you," the man said with a smile. "Shall we get started?"

"Um. What?"

"Oh, yes, how silly of me! My name is Icelos. This," he spread his hands, "is Virtual Canvas. Are you ready to begin?

"Wow." She shook her head. "Mom's gone above and beyond the call of duty this time. It even knows my name. Now that's some crazy programming skills."

"I resent that," Icelos muttered. "Kateri dear, I'm here to help you. With this computer you can—"

"I don't care. I'm not interested in these things."

"But—"

"And I mean, geez. This one doesn't have a stylus or anything. What am I supposed to do, stare at it real hard?"

"Use your hands, of course," he said, frowning. "My, you are the difficult one, aren't you? Here, touch the screen."

Icelos stepped to one side. The screen next to him turned white. Touch screen, huh? Kateri thought. Damnit, why am I even talking to this thing like it's a real person?

Icelos smiled at her encouragingly until she rolled her eyes and reached for the screen. As soon as her fingertips touched it, black spots appeared like drops of ink. She jerked her hand back in surprise.

"Well, it's a start," Icelos said. "Now, as for color..."

While she stared in astonishment, Icelos clapped his hands briskly. Two faint clicks sounded; paper-thin panels ejected from either side of the keyboard. No way, Kateri thought, watching blotches of color appear on one of them. Just ... no way. Had screens that thin even been invented yet? She didn't think so.

"Touch it to make it scroll; that's how you access more colors. If you want to mix them, you need to do it on the palette panel on the other side. Go ahead, try for yourself."

There was simply no way that could work. But curiosity a hold of her now and she reached for the color panel, pressing her fingertips against a spot of pale rose pink. As soon as she touched the palette panel, that color appeared there too. Fingers shaking now, Kateri selected a bit of black and transferred that to the palette panel as well. With a bit of swirling she produced an oddly rosy shade of gray.

She stared again. Where did mom find this one? she wondered. Maybe dad ... But no. Her father hadn't made this sort of effort in years. Why would he start now?

"Very good," Icelos said, interrupting her thoughts. "Why don't you see what it can do? I can go off screen but still be here to answer any questions you might have."

"Do?"

"Yes. It's for art, Kateri. Obviously. I could explain everything, but it's better if—"

"I know what you meant. I just—I don't do this sort of thing anymore. I can't."

She held her hands up to display them before she remembered this was just a computer. With a sigh she let them fall back into her lap. Kateri knew she was lucky. With her parents' money and the best doctors available, her hands were in better shape than she had any right to expect. She just wished she could bring herself to believe that.

Icelos cleared his throat. She looked up at the computer screen. Small though he was, he seemed so real, right down to the impatient way he propped a hand on his hip and tapped his foot. The eeriness of it sent a shiver down her spine.

"My hands are no good for that sort of thing anymore."

Icelos canted his head. "Perhaps you're right. Or perhaps you aren't. You haven't actually tried using Virtual Canvas yet."

"It's not the same."

"Oh, pish tosh. Who cares about that? Give it a try. What have you got to lose, anyway?"

Kateri opened her mouth to protest—and promptly realized she didn't have a very good argument. Nothing better than "I don't want to" at least. That was the reason every time her mother tried to goad her into making another attempt. But I do want to, she thought, biting her lip to hold back tears. I want to so much. But it's not the same, it's never the same. The feeling was lost to her for good.

An image flashed in her mind: Nolan's canvas with its bold, intriguing strokes. They were so rough and her father criticized him for it often, but Kateri found Nolan's work beautiful in its own way. Nothing she'd ever done had possessed that sort of audacity; her paintings and drawings had all fallen under the category of classical and elegant.

Oh, what the hell. I really don't have anything to lose. She leaned forward and touched a color, a rich shade of purple. When she pressed her fingertips to the screen, the purple appeared there too in a heavy blot. Annoyed, she pulled back.

"What if I want to start over?"

"Just say so," Icelos said, "and I'll erase what you've done. Alternatively you can tell me to strike the last line or curve or whatever. Like this."

The purple spot disappeared. So did Icelos, leaving behind only blank white like the surface of a canvas.

"Um ... Ice?"

A sigh. "Please don't call me that."

"Sorry," Kateri muttered distractedly.

She was already examining the color panel for another selection. She pressed her fingertip down and slid it sideways—and indeed, the panel scrolled, revealing more selections. Kateri chose a dusty blue, wondering if she could get a similar effect like she'd gotten from the rosy pink. It ached her fingers a little, this kind of work, but before long she was too absorbed to notice the pain.



Author's Note: Recently someone brought up my old Virtual stories. Remembering how much fun they were to write made me want to do one again. So began Virtual Canvas, which I intended to be, like the others, a short story, rather than a chapter story.

That intention hasn't changed. But I started to notice that, while still within novella length, Virtual Canvas was getting to be longer than I planned. It's also taking longer to write. So, as to not appear to have fallen off the face of the planet (again) I've begun separating it into chapters for posting. The chapters are likely to be a little uneven in length, due to me searching out the best places to make such breaks in a story that otherwise doesn't have them. Just an FYI. :)





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Chapter 2


"Hey Nolan! Got a class again?"

Nolan hit the pause button on his iPod and flashed a grin at Ivan. "Yep. And if I don't get moving, I'm gonna be late."

Ivan tossed something across the shop to him. Nolan caught it with a grimace. Ivan and his damn protein bars, he thought, shoving the thing in his pocket. They're disgusting. They were, unfortunately, also really convenient when he was in a hurry. Joseph Mayfair hated when his students were late.

"Just make sure he turns you into a genius," Ivan called after him. "You're supposed to make us rich, remember?"

Nolan just shook his head and ducked out of the shop. The rainy weather had disappeared, leaving in its wake the sultry heat of summer. As much as he preferred warmth over cold, he still approached his truck with a great deal of reluctance. He'd converted the old beast to run on something a lot more environmentally friendly, but it left him without the money he needed to fix the air conditioning. Or rather, the class with Joseph Mayfair did; he'd chosen that over A.C.

Grumbling under his breath, he unlocked the door and climbed inside. Gagging in the stifling heat, Nolan rolled down the windows, then grabbed a bandana to keep his hair off his neck. Really need to get it cut, he thought, shoving the wayward strands out of his face. But he could barely afford that, after rent and food and supplies, and no way in hell was he letting Ivan shave his head—again. These days he tried not to get that drunk.

He started up the engine and carefully steered the truck away from the curb. Living above a comic book shop in the heart of the city didn't leave much room for parking. Especially not with a truck as large as his; he referred to it, with all due reverence and affection, as the Big Yellow Monster.

Nolan had never intended to live above a comic book shop. He'd met Ivan a few years ago—Ivan, a skydiving instructor with a weight-lifting obsession, who didn't strike most people as the type who loved comic books. Until they learned that he owned a whole store full of them.

Now Nolan lived above the store at half rent, on the condition that he helped Ivan draw a comic book of his own. He wasn't quite the fan of them that Ivan was—he'd always been hands on, spending more time painting, working, being active—but working on the comic book was pretty fun. And they were successful—sort of.

After he found a parking spot within walking distance of the studio, he gathered his supplies and made a run for it—not easy to do with a giant canvas under your arm. Other students looked up in surprise as he came crashing through the studio door.

"Ah, Mr. Adaire," Joseph Mayfair said wryly. "How nice of you to join us."

A round of laughter went through the studio. Nolan shoved his hair out of his face and grinned, unperturbed. "Always a pleasure, sir."

More laughter. Mayfair's mouth twisted into a sour frown. He gestured for Nolan to take his seat and turned away.

Nolan stood for a moment. Kateri sat on a stool pushed up against the far wall, her hands—as always—shoved in her pockets. Something's different today, he realized, studying her face. She looked tired and yet more relaxed than usual. The faintest hint of a smile lingered at the corners of her mouth as she watched her father pace across the floor in an obvious huff.

Bemused, Nolan headed for his usual spot. As he hefted his new canvas onto the easel, the woman at the station next to him turned to smile at him. He smiled back uneasily.

"Hey Nolan," she said.

"Oh, uh ... hey Tina."

She twisted the end of her blond ponytail around her index finger. "What're you doing tonight?"

"Uh..."

Tina glanced up sharply. Nolan peered over his shoulder, up into the storm cloud eyes of Kateri Mayfair. She leaned down, her hair—pulled into a ponytail for a change—sliding over her shoulder.

"So have you considered my offer?" she asked.

"Um."

"I can't promise it'll get my dad off your back—he seems to have it out for you—but it might help your work some."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Nolan said, still baffled as to what he was agreeing to. He smiled at Tina. "Sorry. Plans, you know."

She nodded, looking confused and a little disappointed. She turned away with a shrug, leaving Nolan to figure out what Kateri was on about. Kateri leaned down further, until her lips were right against his ear.

"Maybe you should've waited until this class is finished for good before sleeping with her," she suggested quietly, her breath warm on his skin.

"I didn't know we were gonna have so little in common," he hissed back, leaning away from Tina. This put him far too close to Kateri for his comfort. "She's really sweet, we just don't..."

"Just be a little more careful next time, lover boy."

Maybe he was imagining it, but it sounded like she was teasing him. She straightened, hands still in her pockets—what was that, anyway?—and smiled briefly. She's got to be uncomfortable in that thing, he thought, eyeing her slouchy gray hoodie. It's way too hot outside. She was wearing shorts, at least, and lord, she had legs for days. Which, he quickly reminded himself, you absolutely should not stare at.

Kateri turned and walked away. Nolan stared after her, watching the sway of her hips. He shook himself and forced his attention back to his canvas. Later, when Tina wasn't around, he could ask her what she'd meant. Did she actually intend something or was she just rescuing him? The latter seemed only slightly less implausible than the former.

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Someone tapped on his shoulder. Nolan started and jerked upright, nearly dropping his paintbrush.

He set the brush down, wiped his hands on his jeans, and pulled the earbuds out of his ears. Joseph Mayfair stood over him, a scowl furrowing his dark brows.

"I don't appreciate my students listening to music in class."

Nolan blinked. "Oh. Sorry. I thought since technically class was over..."

"Don't be smart with me."

"I'm sorry. I really wasn't trying—"

"Dad, chill," Kateri put in. "You haven't been teaching for the past hour. You've been in the back doing ... whatever. It's no big deal."

They both stared at her. She shifted from one foot to the other, refusing to look either of them in the face. Nolan glanced at Mayfair; the man looked stunned, more stunned than Nolan felt. Not that I blame him, Nolan thought. She almost never speaks up, and she definitely never argues with him. In fact, he wasn't sure why she came along to begin with. She didn't teach, she barely talked, and she certainly didn't seem happy to be there.

Mayfair drew himself up. He folded his arms across his chest, like that might hold in his dignity.

"Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?" he asked his daughter.

She shook her head. "I have something else I need to do. Next time, maybe."

"Very well, then."

Joseph Mayfair regarded his daughter for a moment. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, his shoulders tight with tension.

Nolan looked at Kateri. She shrugged. A tentative smile graced her lips, so soft and shy he thought he might have imagined it. She looked like she should have been confident: tall, slender but not without curves, her features strong, statuesque even. But she stood there with her shoulders hunched, shrinking in on herself like a frightened child. Not for the first time he wondered what had happened to her, why she was so different from the girl he'd known.

"So um, what did you—"

"Almond Branches in Bloom," she said, interrupting him.

He blinked. She tilted her head at his iPod, which sat on his lap. He stood quickly, scooping it up and shoving it in his pocket. Trust Kateri to know the GelaSkin covering his iPod was Van Gogh's Almond Branches in Bloom.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "You like Van Gogh?"

To his surprise she shook her head. "Nope, only that one."

Weird, he thought. That's exactly how I feel. He wouldn't have thought he'd have much in common with her. Though perhaps more than he did with Tina.

"So earlier," he began again, "what did you—"

"I was just saving your skin, lover boy."

She smiled again, a small hint of smile, like she knew her words sounded a little harsh. Disappointment mingled with an odd prick of amusement in Nolan's belly. What was I hoping for, anyway? he wondered. That she'd stop being a quitter, start painting again and teach me some of what she knows? But it was kind of amusing to see her like this, almost ... playful in her demeanor.

Hands deep in her pockets, she turned away from him. Nolan followed, reaching to catch her by the arm. She started at his touch, yanked her arm away from him like his touch burned. Startled, he took a quick step back and held his hands up.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't meant to scare you. I just thought, um..."

"I need to go. There's something I have to do."

"Oh. Right. Well, need a ride home or anything?"

She shook her head.

"Okay." He sighed. "Thanks for the save, though. And for ... you know. Your father..."

"He's a jerk," Kateri said softly.

"What? No, he's brill—"

She was already walking away. He stood there and watched, unable to draw himself away from the sway of her hips, the gentle flutter of her hair. As a teenager he'd been completely smitten with her. Back then she was confident, charismatic, and very kind. Even though he wasn't part of her circle she spoke to him; she even sounded like she was interested.

He turned back to his canvas with a sigh. Those days were long gone. Once his parents could no longer afford art lessons, the only way he saw Kateri was if he snuck into galleries for her—or her father's—shows. He'd gotten very good at sneaking into places but what little friendship was between them couldn't last like that. You not a kid anymore, Nolan, he told himself, as he pulled his canvas down off the easel. And neither is she. Things change.

And no matter how many shy, sad smiles Kateri sent his way, he couldn't change things back.

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Kateri jangled her keys as she made her way to her apartment. Her fingers ached only a little, mostly from the work she'd been doing with Virtual Canvas.

She didn't quite know why she was doing it. Every other solution her mother had sent—high tech computers, expensive tablets—ended up in her closet. On the other hand, she thought as she inserted her key into the lock, none of the others talked to me like Icelos. Whatever he was—AI or whatever—he was uncanny.

"Good evening, Kateri," Icelos said as she walked through the door.

She frowned. Hadn't she shut the computer down last night? She dropped her keys in their usual spot and stripped off her hoodie with a sigh of relief. Its deep pockets might be the best place to hide her mangled hands, but damn, it was unpleasant during the summer.

After the first night she'd moved the computer onto her desk; sitting hunched over at the coffee table for hours on end wasn't very comfortable. Now she settled in her computer chair. Icelos stood waiting for her, the screen behind him made to look like a gallery. Thumbnails—the works she'd "painted" over the last couple days—hung from the walls. Part of her was kind of proud of them, but she knew she'd never show them to anyone.

"Hey Ice," Kateri said. "Didn't I shut you down last night?"

Icelos wrinkled his nose. "Didn't I ask you not to call me that?"

She grinned.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"Ugh, you're worse than my mom," Kateri groaned. "And you know I haven't. I only just got in."

"Then please do. Neither myself nor Virtual Canvas is going anywhere."

She sighed. Over the years since her hands had been broken, she'd picked up the bad habit of forgetting meals. Sometimes she was better about it—usually when her depression wasn't too bad. Lately Kateri was in a good period; she ate three meals a day, she took her medication without needing to be reminded. But Virtual Canvas distracted her—in a good way—and she'd forgotten a few times.

Well, nothing else for it, she thought, rising from the chair. Virtual Canvas had a strange locking mechanism. Icelos could block her from using the computer altogether if he wanted. It made her feel like she was fifteen again, when her father would forbid her from hanging out with her friends because it might get in the way of art. Only this was the other way around.

As she padded into the kitchen Icelos called, "And don't forget your medication."

She sighed again. But as she pulled open her fridge to see what she had in the apartment, she couldn't help smiling just a little.

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She dreamed of him that night.

Normally Kateri didn't dream of people she knew, but this time Nolan invaded her sleep. She knew it was him; even though it was a dream she could see the deep green of his eyes. Usually she dreamed in weird fragments but this one came through remarkably clear.

They lay tangled together on a hammock, warm beneath the sunlight. The distant roar of ocean waves crashing against the beach reached her ears. Nolan had her hands cradled in his, stroking her fingers with the pads of his own. Whenever she dreamed of herself it was with her hands whole, but this one was different. Kateri's hands looked just as they usually did. And though Nolan wasn't oblivious to it, he didn't seem bothered by it either.

"Remember that show ... I can't remember the gallery it was at," Nolan was saying, "but the place was huge. And the feature artist, what a blowhard."

"Jacob Channing," she supplied, grinning. "I do remember. And he wasn't even very good. I mean, what was that, some kind of abstract sculpture?"

"No idea."

"Isn't he the one who mistook you for an usher or something?"

"The very same," Nolan said. "Though more like a waiter. It was afterwards, during that fancy little party he had to celebrate his own genius or whatever."

Kateri wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I remember now. He was seriously condescending. He actually patted me on the head like some kind of dog. I thought my dad was gonna punch him."

"Yeah, well uh ... remember the wine I spilled on him?"

She winced. Even though Nolan wasn't an employee, for some reason he'd gone to get Channing the drink he'd demanded. Thinking back on it, she realized Nolan must've had an ulterior motive. He'd stumbled as he reached Channing and the wine, of course, ended up on the man's expensive suit. Back then Kateri had been only fourteen; she hadn't noticed how awkward and contrived Nolan's "trip" really was. Now...

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" she demanded, laughing.

His arms tightened around her. She wriggled, twisting to get a look at his face. He watched her with a crooked smiled, his eyes flashing a "guilty as charged" expression. She stretched, reaching up with one of her battered hands to touch his face. He caught her by the chin and drew her closer. His lips brushed hers, such a feather faint touch it sent shivers down her spine.

He murmured her name, "Kateri."

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"Kateri? Kateri, wake up."

"Five more minutes," she mumbled, turning her head away from the sunlight pouring in through the window.

"But you'll be late. Don't you want to see Nolan?"

That name jolted her out of sleep. She sat up—and immediately hunched back down again, groaning as her stiff muscles screamed in protest. Ugh, she thought, did I really fall asleep here? She still sat in her computer chair and her cheek felt strange, like she'd been sleeping on a keyboard.

She blinked at the computer. Her work from last night remained on screen in all its glory. Last night, as the sun was setting, streaks of orange-gold, purple and pink had filled the sky; beautiful, but something about it sent a spike of sorrow through her. She'd painted in dusty versions of each shade, until her own sunset was a reflection of faded glory: imperfect in its lines, dimmed in its color, but loud—very loud—in its emotions.

"I like this one," Icelos said. The painting shrunk down to thumbnail size as he appeared on the screen. "You should show it to Nolan."

"How do you know that name?" she demanded.

"You kept muttering it in your sleep."

Kateri blinked. Cute, she thought, scowling. My life is turning into a cheesy rom-com movie. She pushed the chair back and stood, ignoring her achy legs. A glance at the clock told her she would indeed be late; no amount of hurrying would get her to the studio on time. At least, not if she wanted to look like an actual person. If she looked half as rumpled as she felt, there was no way she could just take off.

"Why don't you show him?" Icelos wheedled.

"Oh, sure, just what I need," she shot back sardonically. "For someone else to see what a crap artist I've become. Great idea, Ice."

"You are the most stubborn mor—customer I've had to deal with yet. You don't think there's even the slightest chance he might appreciate your work?"

Kateri threw her hands up. "I can't believe this. I'm being heckled by a computer!" She turned back to the Virtual Canvas machine. "Shut down, Icelos. And don't argue."

He sighed but did as she asked. I'm not in the mood for his questions today, she thought, closing the laptop and then heading for the bathroom. She pulled off her tank top, dropping it carelessly in the hallway as she went; she could pick it up later.

As Kateri stepped beneath the refreshing spray of the shower, her dream came back to her. Why on earth would she dream of that? It was true, the event had happened. And maybe it even had been on purpose. It seemed such an odd thing to remember, especially while she slept. Although some of it was pretty appealing, she thought, closing her eyes as she remembered the sunlight and Nolan's arms around her.

With her cheeks blazing at the memory, she quickly finished her shower and climbed out to towel off. By the time she'd gotten dressed and fumbled her hair into a lopsided ponytail, she was almost a half hour late. She did, at least, remember to grab a Nutrigrain bar from the cupboard before she raced out of her apartment.



-------

Chapter 3


Of all the things Nolan would have expected to feel, when he arrived at the studio to find Kateri absent, disappointment wasn't one of them.

Sure, he liked looking at her; that didn't mean he liked her. I'm not fifteen anymore, he reminded himself, not for the first time. And I'm definitely not in awe of her anymore. And truth to tell, it wasn't her art or her personality that kept creeping back up on him. He kept wondering about the curves hidden beneath her too large hoodie. Which was bad, really bad. Those kinds of thoughts got him into trouble.

Perky blond trouble named Tina, for example.

"Hey Nolan," Tina said, smiling as he settled on his stool next to her.

She had to be one of the sweetest people he'd ever met in his life. So sweet, in fact, that he'd tried a few dates with her, even though they had nothing in common outside of art. No matter how hard Nolan tried, he didn't feel enough spark. Not even in bed.

"Hey," he responded. "Um..."

"You know, you can stop jumping every time I say your name," Tina teased. "This is not Fatal Attraction and I don't like you quite that much."

Nolan winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ... it's just..." He sighed. "I'm a total dope when it comes to women, I guess."

"Be grateful you're a cute dope."

Oh, I am, he thought. For whatever reason, women found him attractive, and a good thing for him; he usually wasn't good enough with words to attract them that way. Unless he focused carefully, the dumbest stuff tended to come out of his mouth before he could stop it.

He was considering—very carefully, of course—what to say in response when the studio door rattled and opened. Before he could stop himself he turned. Kateri stepped through the doorway, her hands as ever in her pockets. Her hoodie this time was pink and a bit less slouchy, actually clinging somewhat to her frame. Her hair hung over her shoulder and down to her hips in a hasty ponytail. Oh yes, he'd get himself into a lot of trouble if he wasn't careful.

Tina sighed. "Tell me you're not that much of a dope."

"I'm afraid I might be."

Maybe she'd heard them. Kateri looked their way as she paced slowly across the studio. Her lips curled gently at the corners and her eyes appeared more blue than gray with the light of her smile. She looked straight at him for a long moment, gracing him with the full strength of her regard. Nolan swallowed hard and reminded himself, yet again, that he was twenty-six, not sixteen.

Tina's stool scraped across the floor. "She likes you," she hissed in his ear.

He started. "What? No—" He realized how loud he was speaking and lowered his voice. "No she doesn't."

"Oh yes, she does. Nolan, she doesn't smile at anybody."

He considered that. It is true, he had to admit to himself. But even so ... Part of him, the part that was still a sixteen-year-old boy—and that was a large part on most men, wasn't it?—felt a thrill at the thought.

"But why..."

Tina smiled gently. "Haven't you noticed the way her father acts towards her? Like she's ... a thing, an award that's supposed to sit on his mantel. I think she gets a lot of that. Except from you. You're too much of a dope to think of treating her that way."

He wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. And he wanted to protest, to insist that Joseph Mayfair—his hero for so long—wasn't like that. But he watched the man frown at his daughter and wondered if there might be something to Tina's words. No time to wonder about it now, he scolded himself. Class is beginning. And after yesterday he didn't want to piss Mayfair off more.

Nolan focused his attention on his canvas. Though they were supposed to be doing more classical work, he never could quite get his own to fit that model. Always the lines wanted to be sharper, the colors louder. He sank into the work, forgetting to care that what he did was all wrong; in the midst of painting, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else.

As time passed—he knew not how long—he became aware of someone behind him, watching over his shoulder. Slowly he pulled himself from the artist's fog, as he thought of it, and peered over his shoulder. There stood Mayfair, studying the canvas, his brows drawn down sharply. Nolan braced himself for another verbal lashing.

"You just don't seem to get it, do you, Mr. Adaire? This is not what we're trying to achieve here."

"I—I know, sir," Nolan began hesitantly. "I just..."

"I like this," a third voice put in. Kateri stepped up beside her father. "So what if it's not a perfect mimicry of Renaissance work?" She snorted. "I prefer something like this over a—a facsimile of a clone of a copy."

Mayfair drew himself up, indignant. "The old masters—"

"Barely had an original thought to rub together between the lot of them," she snapped. "Do you want me here to help, father, or should I leave?"

Mayfair stood for a long moment in silence. The entire class had turned from their canvases to stare in open-mouthed amazement. Nolan huddled low on his stool, embarrassed and pleased all at once. As Mayfair turned on his heel and stalked away, Kateri remained where she stood, her eyes on his canvas. She took a few steps forward, until she was close enough to lean over his shoulder.

See, he thought, this is no big deal. I'm not even really attracted to ... The smell of peaches drifted from her hair, teasing his senses. She leaned into him, pressed her chest against his shoulder, supporting some of her weight on him. Nolan swallowed hard; he could feel the gentle curve of her breast even through her hoodie. So maybe not so indifferent to her as all that, then.

"You remind me a bit of the Impressionists," she said quietly.

He couldn't help himself. He turned to her and grinned broadly. "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."

Kateri pulled back a little, her expression faltering. "From me?"

"Uh, well, yeah. I mean, I've always thought you..." Nolan cringed inwardly. "Just that you're amazing, is all. Your art. Anyway, um, thanks. Like I said."

He turned back to his canvas before he could put his foot in it any further. Kateri remained there a moment longer, close enough that her breath was warm on his ear. Then finally she straightened and moved away.

Nolan watched from the corner of his eye as she moved over to Tina's canvas. Tina sat bolt upright, her eyes going wide, as Kateri leaned in.

"Very nice," Kateri remarked. "It's classical, but it has its own expression."

Tina glowed. Kateri said no more, but it didn't seem to matter; Tina settled back to work, humming softly. Her father never says things like that, Nolan realized. Even when he does give praise, it's very ... reserved. Usually Mayfair gave a nod or a vaguely approving grunt. He was a brilliant artist, but a bit rough around the edges as a teacher. Kateri, on the other hand ... Nolan watched her go around the room, listened to the murmur of her voice, firm, encouraging, critical but not rude.

"Try toning this red down just a little," he heard her say. "It's a bit too heavily saturated."

"I'm sorry," a meek voice chimed in response.

Kateri laughed. "Don't be sorry. I love red too. But there's a time for temperance even in art."

Nolan shook his head and forced his attention back to his own work. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but he liked it.

-------

A delicious, cool breeze came in through the windows, teasing the hairs on the back of Kateri's neck. She sighed and shifted, wishing she could pull her hands out of her pockets. It was too warm to be so stifled.

The blond girl who sat next to Nolan—Tina, she thought she'd heard her called—passed by her, flashing a smile. Kateri smiled tentatively in return. Most of the students had gone; only Nolan was left, still cleaning up his station. He moved slowly, not lazy, just laid back. Her father had stormed off as soon as class was over, annoyed with her. Well, I don't care, she decided. He's the one who insisted I join him here.

She hesitated near the door, wondering if she should leave. Her eyes kept being drawn back to Nolan. Maybe she'd been wrong about him. She'd thought he didn't like her anymore, but the last couple of lessons he'd been kind. And he still stumbled over his words like he had when they were younger. For some reason she found it cute.

Nolan put his canvas in the backroom, where it could stand safely while the paint finished drying. Kateri could have bolted then but instead she waited, fiddling at the insides of her pockets with her battered hands. When he came back out and saw her he smiled, that broad, boyish smile he favored. A strange feeling ran through her, something that made her heart beat a little faster and her pulse rush unsettlingly.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." She dug at the floor with the toe of her sandals. "Um..."

"You mentioned Impressionists earlier," Nolan said, rescuing her from a long, awkward silence. "Do you have a favorite?"

Relieved, she took a few steps away from the door, relaxing a little. Nolan leaned up against one of the large tables near the opposite wall, arms folded loosely, watching her with a pleasant but unreadable expression.

"Well, it's kind of cliché," she replied, "but Monet. I've always loved Water Lilies."

"More or less than Almond Branches in Bloom?"

"Hmm ... I've never thought about it before."

He grinned and she smiled back. She found herself suddenly wondering about him, about what had changed over the years. Kateri sauntered over to the nearest table and leaned against it, echoing his position—minus, of course, her hands.

"So ... what do you do?" she asked. "I mean, aside from art..."

One brow quirked curiously. "Me? Oh, you know ... stuff. I mean, I fix cars for a bit of extra cash, and my buddy and me, we're doing our own comic book."

"Oh ... you're into comics?"

"Not exactly. He's nuts about 'em, but well, they're fun to draw."

Oh god, this is so awkward, Kateri thought. Maybe I should just go ... But Nolan was still smiling, a little uncertainly, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to go. She just didn't know how to speak to him. In truth, she'd forgotten how to speak to most people. Her life was spent closed up, hidden away from others as much as possible. Thinking on it now, she realized how little actual life she had left.

A feeling grabbed her, a sudden stab of desperation that went straight through her heart. Nolan stood there, watching her with a smile, a reminder of the normal life she could—should—have. And she wanted it, wanted it so much that it shook her down to her core. She took a step away from the table, towards him.

"Could I ... ask you something?" Nolan began hesitantly.

Kateri froze. "I—I guess so..."

"What really happened? Why'd you give it up?"

She'd feared that question more than any other. The first time he'd asked, she'd snapped at him. This time she looked away. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not. You're ... you were the most amazing artist I've ever seen. And then you just ... quit. I don't get it."

"I have my reasons."

"But what are they?" Nolan insisted. "Come on, Kateri. There's got to be more of a reason than simply because. I hadn't taken you for—for a spoiled brat."

"Maybe I just got sick of it!" she snapped. "Why can't that be enough? Why does everyone want something of me that I'm not willing to give?"

Years of anger and pain flooded her at once. Every memory of that horrible night came back then: the agony of her shattered hands, the blur of terror as hands pulled at her clothing, the mixture of relief and humiliation when her parents returned—too late to save her hands, though. Furious, and a little frightened, she stormed across the studio towards Nolan. His eyes widened as she bore down on him. She jabbed him in the chest with a finger and glowered up at him.

"You have no idea—none—what I've been through! You don't have a clue what happened to me and what I've had to deal with since!

"Believe me, you can't begin to imagine what it's like. To have to relearn how to lace your own shoes ... to be unable to wear clothing with buttons. To be unable to do so many things you loved to do. It was bad enough I couldn't draw anymore or paint or anything like that. Bad enough that my father looked at me like ... like I was a broken tool.

"But the other things I loved ... I can't ride a horse anymore, my hands don't have the strength. I can't swim, either; I don't know if my fingers will move the right way. My father and I used to take vacations in Tokyo—we love sushi. But I sure as hell can't use chopsticks anymore. There's so many things I miss, and then I have people like you giving me shit when you don't even know what you're talking about!"

Nolan stared at her, eyes wide. No, not at her—at her hands. Kateri drew back, horrified. She hadn't meant to show him. She never wanted to show anyone. The few who knew looked at her the way he was doing now.

She turned and ran. As she came bursting out the door, Robert glanced up with a start. He moved swiftly to open the car door. Kateri dove inside and landed in a heap on the backseat. She squeezed her eyes shut and ignored everything around her. This was a stupid idea, she thought as Robert drove out of the parking lot. I should've just said no when dad asked ... Now someone else knew. Her pulse raced; what would Nolan do with the knowledge?



-------

Chapter 4


Nolan didn't know how long he stood there before finally shaking himself out of his daze. He couldn't quite believe what he'd seen. Oh god, he thought, closing his eyes. Poor Kateri...

Her hands ... They looked all wrong. The joints were swollen, like great knots, and the fingers themselves looked crooked and weak. And her face as she'd yelled at him, the look in her eyes; he hadn't seen that kind of pain too often. The worst part was realizing that her father knew. He knew, of course he did, but he still asked her to come here for every lesson. How could he ask that of her?

A spark of anger lit within him. Nolan grabbed his supplies and stormed out of the studio. Kateri was already gone, of course. Well, he'd find a way to apologize to her later. First he had something he needed to do.

He tossed his supplies in his truck and climbed in, forgetting the broken air conditioning. Though the city they lived in was large, he happened to know where Joseph Mayfair lived. When he was sixteen he'd taken a summer job there, helping their gardener tend the grounds, mowing the lawn and cleaning the pool, all to be closer to the artists he idolized (well, and to earn a little extra money, something he rarely had at that age). Maybe he'd had some kind of subconscious idea that doing so would allow their brilliance to rub off on him.

He went there now. The house—more of a mansion, really—sprawled amidst ten acres of the most beautiful land in the city. They even had a small stable with a few horses. Thinking about it, Nolan remembered seeing Kateri out riding occasionally. As he pulled his truck up along the driveway his anger grew.

It didn't take long for someone to answer his furious knocks. The door swung open to reveal a young woman in dress slacks and a neatly pressed white shirt, her hair wound up in a bun.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Joseph Mayfair."

She hesitated.

"It's about his daughter."

The woman blanched. She hurried off and came back a moment later with Joseph Mayfair in tow. The man took one look at Nolan and frowned.

"I prefer it if my students don't contact me outside of class," Mayfair began.

"This isn't about class. This is about Kateri. About what happened to her."

Mayfair went still. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"With all due respect, sir, that's bullshit. I saw her hands."

"I ... see. Please come with me, Mr. Adaire."

Nolan blinked. That wasn't what I was expecting, he thought as he stepped inside. Then again, I wasn't expecting him to deny it. How could he talk like that, like nothing had happened? Didn't he care?

The house was as beautiful inside as outside, just as he remembered it. Their footsteps echoed on the pristine marble floors. Paintings—so many of them, all the works of great masters—covered the walls. There was an austerity about the place that bothered him despite its beauty. The colors of the furniture in the living room for example: charcoal gray, white, a bit of chocolate brown. They didn't feel terribly welcoming.

A woman sat on the couch, her hands resting serenely in her lap. She had Kateri's blue gray eyes, though her hair and skin were much lighter. She looked up at him, her smile very similar to her daughter's.

"Sit," Mayfair said gruffly.

Nolan hesitated only a second. He settled on a chair across from the couch, trying not to pay too much attention to its snowy white upholstery—or to be too aware of his paint-smeared jeans. A moment later Mayfair sat down next to his wife and dropped something on the coffee table. He pulled a pen from behind his ear and peered expectantly at Nolan.

"How much?"

Nolan blinked. "What?"

"How much?" Mayfair repeated, as if Nolan were an imbecile. "Your silence, boy. How much is it going to cost?"

It took the words a moment to register. When they did, all of Nolan's anger came rushing back. He leapt to his feet as if the chair beneath him had gone scalding hot.

"Are you insane?" he demanded.

For once Mayfair looked taken aback. His wife, however, never lost her poise. She rose, her every movement elegant and calm. Nolan couldn't help staring a little. Kateri's height and gorgeous legs had obviously come from her mother. Though Daphne Mayfair wasn't an artist like her husband and daughter, Nolan suspected most of Kateri's passion came from her mother. Not to mention her kindness, he thought, remembering the sandwiches and cold lemonade she'd always had ready for him and the gardener.

She gestured to the chair. Nolan sank back into it before he realized what he was doing. Daphne had always had that effect on him.

"Now then," she said, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "Nolan, please tell us why you're here."

"I—I just want to know what happened to her."

"We will not have you going to the press," Mayfair began.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Enough, Joseph. I don't think the boy is here for that." Her eyes narrowed on Nolan. "Are you? You always were crazy about my girl..."

He tried not to blush, but he could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks. Aw man, he thought, was I really that obvious? Oh well. He couldn't change it now. And his lack of denial made Daphne smile.

"That's what I thought," she said. "The details are not for us to tell, I'm afraid. It's her story, and her choice if she wants to tell it." She held up a hand before Nolan could protest. "I can say this: what you've seen was not the result of an accident. Someone did that to her on purpose."

Nolan's stomach rolled. He'd had a feeling, but hearing it confirmed ... He didn't know where to put his anger. It boiled over, so hot and intense he couldn't see straight; normally it took a great deal of provocation to make him this angry. He rose, unable to sit still any longer. No wonder Kateri looked at him like that when he asked why she'd quit art.

He turned back to her parents. Mayfair stared at the checkbook—that's what it was—on the table. Daphne watched him.

"What about ... I never heard anything," Nolan said. "Nothing in the news or anything. What happened? Did—did the person who did it get away?"

"We settled out of court," Mayfair responded brusquely. "And kept it quiet. It was for the best. What she herself wanted."

"It was what you wanted," Daphne snapped, shooting her husband a sharp look.

"And one day, if she ever comes to her senses again, she'll thank me!"

Nolan stared. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Certainly there had to be some kind of mistake. He didn't mind when Mayfair ragged on him for his art; the man was a genius, after all. But he couldn't cope with this behavior. The man had been his hero for years. How could he talk about his daughter like that? Ivan liked to say Nolan was naïve, that he saw the world through rose-colored glasses; maybe Ivan was right.

"I have to go," he said, turning away abruptly. "I can show myself out."

He'd been in the house enough at a younger age to find his way back to the front door. He heard footsteps behind him but didn't turn around until someone called his name.

Daphne Mayfair stood at the end of the foyer, a paper clutched in her hand. For a moment Nolan thought it was a check, but the size and shape were wrong. She approached him slowly, with a glance over her shoulder like she thought her husband might have come after her. Like her daughter, she smelled faintly of peaches.

"I've tried everything I could think of," she said quietly, "but nothing gets through to her. Can you?"

"I ... don't know," he admitted.

"Are you here because you want to try?"

Nolan considered. Then he asked, "Doesn't she have any friends? Anyone?" At Daphne's sad shake of the head he sighed. "Then yeah, I guess I am."

She handed him the paper and walked away without another word. Nolan unfolded it and stood for a moment, gazing at it in shock. That's an awful lot of trust she's put in me, he realized as he tucked the paper in the pocket of his jeans. What the hell am I going to do?

Ivan would tell him to back off now. Normally Nolan would probably even agree; he couldn't deny he was a little too taken with the fancy of rescuing the princess from the tower. But when he thought about not doing something it made his stomach turn. Kateri was no princess and he was no knight in shining armor, but once upon a time they had been friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless. He wanted to do something to help her. He just didn't know what.

-------

Nolan parked his truck next to the sidewalk, not far from Kateri's apartment building. He checked the paper Daphne Mayfair had given him one more time, just in case. Guess there's not much else for it, he thought, pushing open the door. I'll have to just ... I don't know. They're not going to let me in there...

Even from here he could see it was the sort of place with a doorman and probably lots of security. Maybe the princess in the tower analogy wasn't so out there as all that. He approached slowly, glad he'd waited until the sun was setting to come. There were still people on the sidewalks, of course, but most of them paid him no mind, busy as they were attending to their own concerns.

Thanks to a bit of Internet investigating he had a pretty idea which apartment was Kateri's from the outside. Instead of bothering with the front door, Nolan swerved into the alley next to the building. He took in his surroundings quickly, listening just in case someone had spotted him and followed.

Satisfied with what he saw, he geared himself up to do the craziest—and dumbest—thing he'd ever done in his life. And he'd gone skydiving. And jumped off cliffs. And a whole host of other things that didn't put him at as much risk of being thrown in jail as this did.

He climbed up onto the Dumpster and from there made a leap for the end of ladder hanging off the fire escape. It screeched loudly, descending beneath his weight. He shifted around to the correct side and scrambled hastily up. Praying no one would peek out onto their fire escapes, Nolan hurried up ... and up ... and up. Trust Kateri to live on the top floor, he thought, huffing. Why am I doing this again? Oh yeah. Because I'm insane.

Finally he reached the top floor. A large sliding glass door faced him. The curtains were drawn back, revealing a spacious living room. A creamy couch and chair took up the center of the room, but he didn't see a T.V. The carpet surprised him, a swirl of mauve and pink and pearlescent white that reminded him a bit of ice cream. He hadn't expected her place to be so delicately feminine; in truth, he didn't know what he'd been expecting.

Nolan took a deep breath and knocked firmly.

Kateri appeared like a shot. All the color drained from her face when she first saw him; then she paused and blinked at him in bemusement. He held up his hands, hoping that would be enough to show her he meant no harm. Ha! Nolan thought. You're standing on her fire escape uninvited. I'm sure that looks harmless.

After a moment she pulled the door open a crack. "What the hell are you doing!?" she demanded.

"Aw, come on, princess. I'm rescuing you. Isn't that obvious?"

"You know, I can call the police and you can try being smart with them."

Nolan sighed. "A sense of humor wouldn't kill you," he muttered. "Look, would you come downstairs? I ... there's something I want to show you."

"And you can't show me right here?" She raised a hand to forestall him. "Why am I even asking this? You're on my damn fire escape! What was wrong with the front door?"

"I uh..." He cleared his throat. "I don't have the very best track record with doormen." Understatement.

"Gee, I wonder why."

He didn't see what else he could say. Instead of speaking, Nolan reached out a hand. Her fingers curled around the door, which was open just enough to allow him to rest his fingers over hers. She went still, her breath catching in her throat. Carefully he ran his fingertips over her swollen knuckles, his heart twisting in his chest. She didn't pull away.

"Just come downstairs and meet me on the sidewalk," he murmured. "Okay?"

He let his hand fall away from hers and turned. As he started back down the fire escape, he heard her call, "I didn't say yes!"

Nolan grinned. Hoping that curiosity, if nothing else, would convince her to follow him, he quickly descended. Before anyone had the chance to spot him, he was back out on the sidewalk, waiting to see if his princess would come down from her tower.

-------

I must be out of my mind, Kateri thought as she crossed the lobby. I have no idea what he even wants from me. I should've just locked the door and stayed in my apartment. Too late to go back now, though. The head security guard, Marnie, had already seen her.

"Don't usually go out this late," Marnie said in her deceptively gruff tone.

Kateri managed a smile. "Just need some fresh air."

"Really? 'Cause I just got an interesting call from the apartment under yours. Said she heard voices out on your fire escape. You and a man."

Oh damnit, Kateri thought. I should've known she'd hear something by now. Marnie wasn't what most people expected. She made the most amazing chocolate chip cookies and she'd taught Kateri makeup tricks even her mother didn't know, but when she was on the job she was all business. She propped her chin on the palm of her hand and gazed at Kateri patiently. Kateri sighed.

"It's not ... it's just a friend of mine," she explained. "Nolan. He ... I don't know, I guess he's trying to cheer me up. I don't think he means any harm."

"You want the mace?"

"Is that even legal?"

Marnie grinned. "Like I give a fuck."

"I'll be all right," Kateri said, smiling a little. "And you know I'll yell for help if he tries something."

"Only if he tries something you're not interested in. Otherwise you might wanna let him try a few things." Marnie's grin widened. She considered for a moment, then added, "Assuming he's cute."

Kateri turned red. Marnie burst into uproarious laughter.

"That answers that question. Nice butt?"

"Uh ... I haven't really looked that hard..."

"Well then go look! And tell me about it afterwards!"

Bright red and a little giggly, Kateri waved to Marnie and slipped out into the warm evening. She kept her hands deep in her pockets as she walked slowly down the sidewalk. She could see Nolan a short way down, leaning against the hood of his truck. If I had to make a guess based on the rest of him, she thought, he probably does have a nice butt. The thought made her giggle even harder.

Nolan eyed her with eyebrows raised. "Something wrong?"

"No." She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "So uh ... what did you want to show me?"

"Well, actually, it's not here. It's a place. That is, if you're willing to come with me."

Kateri caught herself before she could agree. She had to be cautious, couldn't just let herself jump into things heedlessly. The last time she hadn't been careful enough she'd ended up with broken hands.

But oh, she wanted to go with him so much. When was the last time a guy had climbed her fire escape in order to ask her on an impromptu date? Never, obviously. And she didn't feel like Nolan was dangerous, not at all. When he'd touched her hand, up there on the fire escape, he'd been so gentle. A pleasant frisson ran along her nerves when she thought of it. She'd spent so many years hiding from everything because of what happened; she might regret going with him, but at least she'd have taken the risk.

She nodded tentatively. Nolan broke into that boyish smile that melted her heart. He pulled open the door of his truck with a flourish. Or, well, he tried; it stuck for a few seconds and when he finally got it open it creaked loudly. Hiding a grin, Kateri carefully climbed inside, wobbling a little without her hands to guide her.

"I'm sorry about that," Nolan said loudly, startling her as he leaned across her. "The other end is pretty well hidden. Truck's old, you know."

He buckled her seatbelt for her, then closed the door. Kateri stared down at the belt. The other end was in plain view next to her and had been when she climbed in. He did it so I wouldn't have to reveal my hands, she realized. Warmth flooded through her. She couldn't help smiling a little.

"All right," Nolan said as he climbed into the driver's seat. "It's a bit of a ride. I know it's kinda late for this but after this afternoon..."

She sighed.

"I'm sorry. I really am. If I'd known, I never would've ... acted like I did."

"My father didn't want people to know," Kateri said quietly. "And I ... I don't know. I don't know how to tell people." She paused as something occurred to her. "How did you know where I live?"

"Your mother." Nolan must have caught a glimpse of the look on her face, because he added hastily, "I stopped by your parents' home after ... you know. I wanted to know what happened to you. I mean, I shouldn't have stuck my nose in, I know. I just wasn't thinking straight at the time and uh..."

She laughed. "You still can't open your mouth without getting yourself in trouble, can you?"

"Guess not."

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. Kateri watched him in silence for a long moment. So much about him had changed and yet so many things were as she remembered. He was more confident now; she saw it in his every movement. And he was laid back in a way he hadn't been before. But he does still put his foot in it all the time, she thought. Or else he thinks he has and gets himself in hot water trying to fix it.

"Would you—would you promise not to look at me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "While I talk, I mean. I ... just keep your eyes on the road, right?"

"I usually do try to do that when I'm driving," he replied dryly.

"Good. A lot of people in this city don't," she said, trying for a bit of levity. "But if you really want to know what happened to me..."

"Your parents wouldn't give me any details. Well, your mother. Your father might have if she'd let him, I don't know."

"Yeah, well. So okay ... do you remember Molly?"

"Ugh, that bitch?" Nolan blurted. He winced, but kept his eyes on the road as promised. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. She's your friend."

"Was my friend," Kateri corrected. She couldn't keep the bitterness from her tone. "Was. She was also my biggest rival. Even when we were younger, we were always vying for spots in the same galleries. I thought for the longest time that that didn't matter, that nothing—that nothing could come between us. I mean, we were friends, right? I guess I didn't realize that she felt differently...

"Towards the end there, we fought sometimes, usually over stupid things. It really got bad though when—when her boyfriend broke up with her. Because he was interested in me."

"Were you interested back?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it. I mean, he was cute, I guess, but I'd just gotten out of a relationship. It ended so messily, I didn't want to get too involved with anyone else. I was living at my parents' house at the time, you know, so I wouldn't have to deal with too much other stuff.

"That night my mom and dad went out. There was some kind of party in his honor. I dismissed the staff for the night, wanted to be alone—big mistake, that. Though not as big a mistake as answering the door."

"You are a grown woman," Nolan pointed out. "It's not like you should've had to worry about strangers offering you candy."

She managed a rueful smile. "Yeah. And worse, Molly had called shortly before to tell me she was coming over. I tried to tell her no, but she hung up before I could. I should've known something wasn't right, should've seen it, but I—I figured it was her at the door.

"Only—only it wasn't. It was some guy I didn't recognize. It—it starts to get a little blurry after that." Her fingers twitched with remembered pain. She looked out the window, trying to keep down the bile that rose in her throat. "I remember ... being grabbed. Being thrown to the floor. And then pain; a lot of pain. I was told afterwards that he used some kind of weight to," she swallowed hard, "to break my hands, but back then everything was just pain and fear and I was barely conscious..."

Fingers touched her arm through the sleeve of her hoodie. Without turning to look at Nolan, Kateri pulled a hand out of its protective pocket. She trembled as she did it; trembled even harder when Nolan's hand settled on hers. Gently he wound his fingers around hers. In return, she gripped as tightly as her ruined hand would allow.

"I also—also remember him pulling at my clothes. I think he was going to..." She trailed off, unable to say the words. "But my parents' car broke down and they came back to the house. They caught him before he could—you know."

Much to her irritation a tear slid down her cheek, followed swiftly by another. She jerked her other hand free of its pocket and swiped it across her face. Yet even though speaking of it brought memories to the surface, it was like a poison being drawn from her veins. Weight seemed to tumble off her shoulders as she spoke.

"Why didn't you ... I mean, your father said you settled out of court," Nolan said. "Did—did you want to?"

"I don't know. I was so miserable, in so much pain, I didn't care at all. I let dad do what he wanted. It was just easier."

She fell silent. It sounds so cowardly now, she thought, but at the time I couldn't see any other way. She glanced at Nolan, wondering what he thought. He didn't look at her, but he didn't let go of her hand either. Kateri leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. If she could have one person, just one, like Nolan in her life all the time, maybe it wouldn't be so unbearable.



-------

Chapter 5


"Here we are."

Kateri stepped carefully out of the truck. Though night had fallen during their drive, the open country Nolan brought her to was bright with moonlight and starlight. He'd parked the truck amid a stand of trees. Not far away, cradled in the shallow dip between two low hills, was a lake. Even in the deep of night the water was so clear, she could see the reflections of moon and stars above.

"Oh," she breathed. "Nolan, it's beautiful."

She took a few steps down towards the lake. As she walked, she lifted her chin and sucked in a deep breath. The air here was cleaner than she was used to and thick with the smell of growing things. Above her stars crowded the sky, their silver glimmers unhindered by light pollution.

"Where are we?"

Nolan caught her arm and pointed off into the distance. "The house is out that way. This is where my parents live."

"Really?"

"Yep. We inherited the farm from my grandfather. Been a bit of a struggle over the years to keep it, but we don't want to let go."

Kateri bit her lip. Her own parents never had to worry about that; she had never had to worry about it.

"A lot of what we used to have is gone now," Nolan went on. "The horses and other livestock. Only got the chickens left. But someday this will all be mine, and I intend to have it back in shape by then."

He sounded determined, not sad. He turned to her and flashed a grin, as if he had no cares at all. Her breath caught in her throat; she wished she could be like that. Then he began leading her down to the lake again. The surface of the water rippled in the faint, warm breeze that teased over them. Kateri knelt and dipped her fingers in the water. It was a bit chilly but it felt good on her swollen knuckles.

Nolan crouched next to her. She breathed in deeply and thought, If only this moment would never end ... She could almost forget about her hands, could almost taste the life she wished she still lived.

"So," Nolan said suddenly, "how about a swim?"

Kateri blinked. "What?"

"In the water, silly. You said it's been a long time. I thought you might like to try."

"Um, I don't have a bathing suit."

"Well, no. It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you to bring a bathing suit," he pointed out. He stood and pulled his T-shirt off.

Kateri couldn't help herself; she flinched. It was a kneejerk reaction, ingrained in her instincts since the attack. God, relax a little, would you? she thought, swallowing a growl of frustration. This is Nolan, not some stranger. And damn, but she missed that part of life. She missed running her fingers through someone's hair, missed kisses and caresses and sex. Especially she missed appreciating a body like Nolan's.

Grass rustled. She realized she'd closed her eyes and forced them back open. Nolan crouched in front of her. Her nerves quieted some as she took in the hard planes of his chest and abdomen and the breadth of his shoulders. No amount of remembered fear could quite quash the desire to run her hands over him. Not that she thought he'd want her to, not with the way her hands looked.

"If I'd known, I would've picked a different surprise," Nolan said softly. "You don't have to swim, Kateri. In fact, we can leave if you want."

She shook her head. "I'd rather stay. I just ... don't know about the swimming part."

"Hey, I wouldn't let you drown," he said, voice more teasing now. "But it's up to you."

Kateri looked away as he finished stripping. Well, sort of. Admittedly she peeked through her hair. Only because Marnie wants to know about his butt, she thought. Well, okay, maybe I kinda do too ... And indeed it was cute. She felt like a fourteen-year-old mooning over her crush, but that was satisfying in its own way.

A light spray of water splashed her as Nolan dove in. Smiling to herself, she pulled her sandals off and dangled her feet in the lake. After a moment she tugged off her hoodie, too. It looked much nicer in the pond then out in the sticky heat.

Kateri bit her lip hard as she watched Nolan splash playfully around the pond. His hair seemed almost under control with the water weighing it down. Whenever he rose partially out of the water, little droplets ran down his skin. A desire to chase those drops with her tongue made her cheeks turn red. Like the pull of life the water lapped at her toes, urging her to come in, to start living again.

"What if I can't keep myself afloat?" she asked.

Nolan turned to look at her. "I told you. I won't let you drown. Come on, princess, what've you got to lose?"

Despite her reservations, she grinned. Kateri rose, drawing her feet out of the water, and began pulling off her clothes. Nolan cleared his throat and looked away; even with only moonlight to see by, she noticed the darkening of his cheeks. With the night air warm against her skin, and her confidence feeling a little less bruised, she stripped off all her clothes and slid into the water.

As soon as she set her foot down it slid out from under her. Kateri yelped, flailing wildly to regain her balance. Water went up her nose and down her throat, burning the whole way. Then strong arms closed around her waist, hefting her up. She slung her own arms around Nolan's neck and clung to him, gasping and spitting out water.

"Ugh!" she spat, rubbing her nose. "Geez, what am I, five?"

Nolan chuckled. "You've just got an issue with water. Or do you do it on purpose so I'll have to rescue you?"

"They pushed me in!" Kateri protested, remembering that day at her parents' pool, almost ten years ago. "And they stole my bikini top too!"

"Yeah." He looked thoughtful. "I never did thank them for that."

She smacked his arm, though it didn't do her much good; too much hard, toned muscle. But she also laughed, now that she was a decade removed from the incident. At her fifteenth birthday party her friends had snatched her bikini top and shoved her in the pool as a prank—one intended to be mostly harmless. Only she'd hit her head on the way in. Kateri remembered blacking out and waking up on the pool deck, covered in a towel and cradled in Nolan's arms—a bit like she was now, in fact.

I haven't thought about that in a long time, she realized. And maybe it was better to think about that than about Nolan's body against hers. The contrast of soft skin and hard muscle sent delightful shivers along her nerves.

"So uh ... that was pretty brave of you," she said, trying to distract herself.

"Brave? Nah. I was just crazy in love with you back then."

He grinned at her, brazen and unabashed. Kateri's heart skipped a beat. How can he just come right out and say it like that? she wondered. A strange thought crossed her mind: if she kissed him, would some of that boldness spill from his lips and into her? She looked him straight in the eye, trying not to shiver or blush.

"You never said anything. About ... about liking me, I mean."

"Yeah well, I never was good with the opposite sex," he admitted with a shrug. "You girls giggled a lot whenever I was around. Never quite knew what to make of it."

Kateri laughed. "Of course we did. Most of the boys our age were still kinda scrawny. You were already, you know..." She waved a hand at his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, barn chores. As a consequence, I usually smelled like horse. Figured maybe that's what all the giggling was about."

Stupid, she thought, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. I've never minded the smell of horse. She rode herself once, of course. But had he really done that much at that age? Chores at home, then everything he did around the grounds at her parents' place? Had he needed the money that badly? Don't pry, she told herself. At least, not into that. Kateri gathered her courage to pry into something else.

"What about now?" she asked, her voice coming out a bit squeaky.

"Hmm?"

She breathed in deeply and tried again, going for a more flirty tone. "You said you were crazy in love with me back then. What about now?"

His eyes widened. This close she saw clearly when color flooded his cheeks. "Uh ... well. I mean, it's not—I don't really know how to ... you see, I ... Oh, hell, Kateri, that's not a fair question."

Not so brazen now, she thought, suppressing a grin. Then her happiness faltered a little. What if he was trying to avoid telling her how much his feelings had changed? She didn't know if she could handle it now, when the fragile parts of her were only just beginning to mend. Kateri shook the worry off to the best of her ability, holding onto that small blossom of confidence opening up inside of her.

"Are you sure you're not still sixteen?" she teased.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I am, at least on the inside."

Nolan grinned, at ease again. Except ... well, she noticed how tightly he held onto her. He drifted slowly through the water and by now she thought he could have let her go, but he hadn't. Holding onto what courage she'd managed to scrape together, Kateri slid an arm from around his neck and reached for his cheek.

She hesitated with her fingertips barely half an inch from his skin. Even Kateri's mother often flinched away from her hands. Nolan leaned in, pressing his cheek against her palm without reservation. His eyelids drifted low; a contented smile touched the corners of his mouth. Her heart started pounding so hard she was sure he'd hear it. Certainly he could feel the trembling of her fingers.

Keeping one arm around his neck, she leaned in and tentatively pressed her lips to his. When he didn't pull back, she deepened the kiss. It had been so long that she felt uncertain, like she no longer knew what she was doing.

Fingers caught her beneath the chin, cupping gently. Nolan guided only a little, helping her remember but letting her control the kiss. He coaxed her lips open, then let her do the same in return. Kateri slipped her tongue inside his mouth timidly, jumping a bit when his tongue touched hers. Though the water was cool, heat flooded through her veins and coiled low in her belly. She slid her hand along his cheek and into his hair, letting the wet strands wrap around her fingers.

Nolan drew back, his breathing ragged. Kateri bit back a whimper. Why'd he stop me? she wondered. Did I mess up? Damn, had it really been so long that she wasn't sure she was doing it right? But she could feel the press of his arousal against her stomach, so surely she had to be doing something right.

He pressed his forehead against hers and murmured, "Keep this up and I'll have the self-control of a sixteen-year-old, too."

Kateri let out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sigh of relief. She released her hold on Nolan, letting the water carry more of her weight.

"I think I'm ready to try swimming a little," she said. "If ... if you'll help me."

"Of course."

Nolan released her carefully. He kept a hand under her elbow but otherwise let her do the work. With her fingers as they were, stroking the water enough to move was next to impossible, at least at first. After a bit of awkward flailing, Kateri found a way she could half float, half tread water.

"This," she declared, coming to a rest at the edge of the pond, "is undignified."

Nolan chuckled. "Well, not everything will come back to you as easily as kissing."

She flushed.

"So uh..." He drifted up beside her, leaning against the pond's edge, arm brushing hers. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Same thing I always do: not much. Why?"

Well, thinking about it, that wasn't entirely true. These days she spent much of her evening using Virtual Canvas. Even though she enjoyed herself a great deal—not that she'd admit it out loud—she couldn't share that with Nolan. He'd be so disappointed if he saw what little ability she had left.

"Then can I come by tomorrow evening?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?" she repeated.

"It's a surprise."

"Are you going to come up the normal way or should I warn security that there'll be a nutcase on the fire escape again?"

He leaned over and nipped her shoulder. "I can use the front door just like everyone else, you know."

"Okay then," she agreed. "Tomorrow at..."

"Around five."

Kateri nodded. She folded her arms on the grassy bank and rested her head, trying to keep her excitement from boiling over. It was like she was fourteen again, preparing for her first real date. It's like I have to learn this stuff all over again, she thought, snuggling closer to Nolan's side. Nolan put an arm around her and nuzzled her neck, sending sweet shivers all along her limbs. Well, if she had to relearn, at least she liked her teacher.

-------

"My! I've never seen you this frantic."

Kateri stormed into the living room and glowered at the Virtual Canvas console. "You can't see me from here anyway. And didn't I shut you down? I didn't want comments from the peanut gallery tonight."

"Not even if they're helpful?"

"How can you help? You're just a computer. I need..."

Molly, she thought. I need a friend, someone who can help with this sort of thing. But she never wanted to see Molly again, obviously. And all the friends she had back then she'd lost touch with. Sometimes she missed them; other times she was glad they couldn't see what she'd become. Just then she was in desperate need of someone with a lick of fashion sense.

"Red."

Kateri started. "What?"

"Something red. To wear, I mean. You look like the kind of girl who looks fantastic in red."

"You can't see me," she reminded him, already heading back into her bedroom.

Icelos was right though. When she was younger her favorite color to wear—outside of blue, to bring out her eyes—was red. Kateri opened her closet and stepped inside, heading for the back, where all the clothes she never wore anymore hung.

She ran her fingers along the cool silk of a short, wine red dress. She'd bought it only a week or so before the attack and never got the chance to wear it. Now she pulled it down off the hanger, letting the material slide along her hands. Did she have the courage to wear it now? Well, she thought, sucking in a deep breath, I guess I'll just have to give it a try.

Kateri stripped out of her shorts and T-shirt and pulled the dress on. The fabric slid along her skin, cool and airy, so light it barely felt like she wore anything at all. She stepped up to the mirror—the same one she tried so hard to avoid looking into—and studied herself critically. Not bad, she decided. A little underweight, but then ... But then, it wasn't that far from the anniversary of the attack and she always struggled with depression and loss of appetite then.

"Ice," she called, walking out of her bedroom. "What the hell am I going to do about makeup? I can barely wield a mascara wand without poking my eye out."

"What about the nice lady downstairs?"

Kateri tried to remember the last time someone—other than her—had referred to Marnie as 'nice.' "She's on duty."

"Well then come over here and we'll see what we can figure out," Icelos said.

She sighed. She didn't see how a computer program could help with this, but Icelos was the best she had to work with tonight. Kateri retrieved her makeup box from the bathroom and sat down at her desk. For the first time in well over a year she opened the box and reached inside. This time she hoped the end result would be a little more successful.



-------

Chapter 6


Nolan whistled as he walked down the sidewalk toward Kateri's apartment building. He swung the cooler he held idly back and forth in time with his slightly off-tune whistling. With the sky clear overhead and the sun still well above the horizon, it was shaping up to be a beautiful night.

He might as well have been sixteen again, the way he felt tonight. No matter how hard he focused, all day he'd had trouble keeping his mind from wandering to Kateri. She's not that different from who she used to be, he thought. Older, more mature, more wary, but she's the same girl I was so crazy about, in a lot of ways. And her confidence was reemerging now, drawing her humor and playfulness with it.

And he was back to being crazy about her. He'd even tried sketching her today, though he wasn't good enough to capture her features well. Ivan, of course, thought he was nuts, and said so without hesitation. And strangely, Nolan thought, letting his whistling fade as he approached the door. I really don't care. Better to be nuts about something than for no good reason at all, right?

The doorman let him in with only a mildly suspicious onceover and a grunt. Inside, however, he was stopped by a woman sitting behind the security desk. She'd wrestled her frizzy brown curls into a ponytail. The tank top she wore revealed a white ink tattoo on her dark skin—and the fact that she was diesel enough to bench press him, or perhaps put him through a wall if he pissed her off. He froze in front of the desk.

"Name?"

"Uh ... Nolan. Nolan Adaire," he said. "I'm here to see Kateri Mayfair."

The woman perked up visibly. "Oho! I shoulda known. Not too many guys lookin' like you come walkin' in here." She grinned wolfishly. "Name's Marnie, boyo. Security, just in case you missed it."

"Oh, I noticed," Nolan assured her. "So um ... can I go up?"

Her smile faded. "Turn around!" she barked.

Trying not to jump out of his skin—or run away screaming—he began a slow rotation. She barked at him again, this time to stop, when he was facing the opposite wall. What did I do? Nolan wondered, wishing he dared look over his shoulder at her. Is this standard procedure? Well, he supposed he could understand why Kateri might want this much security, but it had to be hell on the nerves for guests.

"Oh yeah," Marnie said, "that's some prime Grade A tush right there."

Nolan spun around. "Hey! I thought you were like ... checking me for weapons or something."

"Nah. I'll let the girl do that." She winked lasciviously. "Go on up."

Shaking his head, Nolan made a break for the elevator. As the doors closed, he thought, An elevator ... and I climbed all the way up the fire escape. Guess I am nuts. But if Marnie the security guard was anything to go by, nuts fit in just fine here.

The top floor was taken up by two suites: Kateri's and someone else's. He approached her door, a sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach. Stupid to be nervous, he knew, and yet as he raised his hand to knock he could've sworn he was still sixteen in truth. It was like it was her birthday all over again and there he was, wondering if it would be too weird to give her the gift he'd bought her.

Nolan had forgotten all about that until yesterday, when Kateri reminded him about the incident at her party. Even though he'd rescued her from the pool—being the only one to keep the presence of mind to do something—he'd decided it would seem stalkerish to give her the present. After all, they hardly knew each other, really.

The door swung open on his first knock. Kateri hovered in the doorway, looking harried and as nervous as he felt. And gorgeous, he couldn't help thinking. Really gorgeous.

She wore a floaty red dress that clung around her breasts and hung free in delicate mesh layers down to her thighs. Those long legs of hers were bare except for a thin silver anklet. Her hair hung loose; she'd taken great care with it for a change, so it fell in gleaming waves down to her hips. He forced himself to focus on her face, to not think too much about how he wanted to run his fingers through her hair.

"Hey," she said shyly. "Um ... come in."

"Uh, thanks," he responded. Wincing at how stupid he sounded, he followed her into the apartment, trying not to smack anything with the cooler, which was rather large.

"I hope Marnie didn't give you too much trouble."

"Oh, not at all. She just scared the living daylights out of me and then stared at my ass for a little bit."

Kateri threw her head back, laughing. "Sounds like Marnie, all right." She peered back over her shoulder at him, going a little red in the face. "I guess my description of your butt wasn't good enough for her."

She turned away again before he could figure out what to say to that. They were talking about my butt? he wondered, watching Kateri pace across the living room. Did she say good things? Somehow he doubted she'd tell him.

The living room looked much as it had last night, with the raspberry swirl carpet and elegant but cozy furniture. Aside from the sliding glass door there were several large windows, nearly floor to ceiling, that probably let in glorious amounts of sunlight. Of course, heavy curtains hung to either side of each window, drawn back now but easily dropped into place for privacy.

"There's a balcony in the bedroom," Kateri said quietly. "French doors and ... oh, never mind. So what's with the cooler?"

The words I want to see the bedroom lingered on his tongue, but for once he managed to hold them back. "The surprise I promised. Mind if I use your kitchen?"

"Go right ahead," she replied, looking puzzled.

Nolan carried the cooler into the kitchen. A long counter with a marble top—blue-grey with veins of white—separated kitchen from living room. Gray, blue, and black tiles covered the floor, and the white wallpaper was printed with blueberries. Cute, he thought, grinning. Not at all what I expected. He set the cooler down and opened it, began pulling out supplies: his knives, of course; parcels of salmon, tuna, and eel; rice; wasabi and various other necessities.

Kateri watched him as he worked, her lips parted with dawning realization. Finally she pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter and sat. The stormy blue of her eyes seemed so vibrant and clear; a definite hint of smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"You're making sushi?"

Nolan looked up and grinned. "Yep. Two kinds: nigirizushi and inarizushi. I know a few others, but I'm best at these."

"Dare I ask how you know this?"

"Ah, well, mom loves cooking shows. Always has." He shrugged. "Like I've said before, I'm a hands-on kinda guy. After a while I got sick of watching them and tried making a few of the recipes. Not while she was there, of course, not at first."

"Of course." She smiled slightly.

"I was in big trouble when she caught me. Well, until she found out I have some talent for cooking. Mama loves that, she brags about it to all her friends at church. So we started watching lots of cooking shows together and I learned how to make a ton of different things."

Nolan opened the rice bag. As if she knew exactly what was going on in his mind, Kateri pointed to a cupboard. He found a measuring cup and several other things he needed there. When he turned back he found her leaning curiously across the counter, studying his work.

"I take it you've never been to Japan?" she guessed.

"Nope. I'd like to go someday, if I can ever scrape together the money."

"Maybe we could go together..."

Her voice came out a quiet rasp. Nolan sucked on his lower lip, uncertain what to say. We were doing so well last night, he thought. Now things are right back to being awkward. He liked the thought of traveling with her, anywhere, even if it was just to the next town over. So many thoughts crisscrossed in his mind, wanting to spill out at once. But if he told her about his feelings, how could he possibly make this less awkward? More than likely he'd freak her out.

Still ... He strapped a bit of steel to his spine and bent down to retrieve something from the cooler. The package was a little cold—obviously—and much of the color had faded from the cheap wrapping paper. He set it on the counter and pushed it towards her. For the first time that night his eyes were drawn to her hands as she picked it up and regarded it curiously.

"What is it?" she asked, picking at the paper.

Nolan chuckled. "Uh, honestly? Your birthday present. Your fifteenth birthday present, to be exact. I was kinda worried you'd think it was weird, because we didn't know each other all that well, so I didn't give it to you..."

"Oh." As she slowly pulled the paper off, she asked, "Do you remember a man by the name of Channing? He was a sculptor..."

"The guy I spilled wine on because he was a jerk to you? Yeah, I remember him."

"So it was on purpose!"

He looked up. Her attention was on the package, but he saw her smiling. She finally got all the paper off and opened the small box.

Looking at it now, he couldn't help but wince. The small silver bracelet, set with tiny red stones, would've looked so cheap next to the gifts she'd gotten. Kateri studied it for a long moment, turning it over and over again in her crooked hands. Finally she slid it onto her bare wrist. She leaned across the counter and beckoned for him to get closer.

Nolan bent over, closing the distance between them until she was satisfied. He held still as her lips touched his ever so gently. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles afire, his body aching with the effort it took to keep himself from dragging her to him. Kissing Kateri was something he could easily do all night, but after learning about what had happened to her, he was terrified he might scare her. He cupped a hand against her cheek and drew back. I'd never forgive myself if I scared her, he thought.

She smiled tentatively. "I would've liked it if you'd given it to me," she said, still leaning over the counter.

"Even in front of all your friends?"

"Are you kidding? They would've been so jealous." Kateri sighed wistfully. "I wouldn't have minded having a boyfriend back then."

"Your father would have minded."

She grinned. "So, show me what you're doing here," she said, ignoring the remark about her father. "I've eaten a lot of sushi, but I've never made it."

"Oh yes, change the subject," he replied in tones of mock outrage. "Women!"

He waited for her giggles to subside, then began telling her, step by step, what he was doing. If nothing else, he thought, it's far less awkward than anything we've managed so far.

-------

Kateri watched Nolan as he cleaned the dishes. It really is a nice butt, she thought, smiling to herself.

She leaned her elbows on the countertop. Her full belly, combined with a sense of warmth and contentment, left her feeling sleepy. Sleepy and at ease, she realized, smothering a yawn. Talking to Nolan was still a bit difficult, and the feeling of being an awkward teenager again hadn't faded yet. Still, she thought, I feel like I'm alive, for a change.

Anything felt possible just then. She stretched over the counter, reaching for a drawer in the other side. With the water running Nolan couldn't hear her very well; at least, she didn't think so. She pulled the drawer open and retrieved a pair of chopsticks from inside. Though she couldn't use them anymore, her stubborn pride wouldn't allow her to put them away or get rid of them. In those respects, she was embarrassed to admit—even to herself—she was very like her father.

Carefully she placed the chopsticks between her fingers. Her hand shook as she struggled to hold them in place, to keep her fingers firm against them. Pain shot right up into her elbow and she dropped the chopsticks on the counter with a yelp.

Frustration and humiliation made her face burn. With anger blurring her vision around the edges, she grabbed the chopsticks and hurled them at the floor. A shriek of outrage tore up her throat before she could stop it.

"Kateri!"

"No!"

She huddled on the stool, her arms over her head. Stupid, she thought, I'm so, so stupid! Now Nolan was going to think ... god, what would he think? Her nose throbbed; she could do nothing to stem the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

Hands caught her wrists and pulled her arms away. Gently, as if he was afraid he might break her, Nolan cupped her chin between his palms and lifted her head. She gazed at him through a bleary curtain of tears and tangled hair. He knelt in front of the stool, ignoring the chopsticks. Kateri tried to read the expression on his face, but that had never been something she was particularly talented at.

"I didn't mean for you to see me like this," she said hoarsely.

He smiled. "It's hardly the first time I've seen you throw a temper tantrum, princess."

"It's just so—so stupid that I can't do these things anymore."

"It's stupid that you think you have to," Nolan corrected. "Anyone who thinks less of you because you can't, they're the stupid ones."

She blinked, not sure what to say to that. Slowly Kateri sat up straighter, unfolding from her protective position. Immediately Nolan scooped her into his arms and lifted her off the stool.

A thrill ran through her. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. He smelled of the studio, of paint and wood, and of soap. Nolan carried her across the living room, to the chair nearest her computer desk. He sat down, cradling her in his lap. This, she thought. I want more of this in my life.

Kateri raised her head. Nolan's eyebrows went up; he touched a finger to her cheek. It came away with a mascara-discolored wet smudge. She groaned inwardly. Maybe not all of this.

"Great," she grumbled. "You have no idea how long that took me to do."

"I can hazard a guess."

"I used to love doing my makeup. Now it's such a chore, I almost never do it. I mean, I'm not that good at it anymore and..." She trailed off. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Nolan wiped away another tear. "Yeah, well, I babbled about sushi, you can babble about makeup."

"I think sushi is a little more interesting."

"But I know about sushi. I don't know anything about makeup," he pointed out, grinning. She had a feeling he was being perhaps a little facetious. "I remember those makeup jobs you used to do, though. All your friends were jealous."

Kateri tried to match his teasing tone. "Oh, now I see. So this is the real reason you're interested in me. Well, I hate to break it to you, but if I can't do my own makeup, you can bet I can't do yours either."

"You could teach me. Then you wouldn't have to spend a half hour putting on mascara by yourself."

Kateri swallowed. He sounded a lot less teasing this time. She chewed anxiously on her lower lip, trying to figure out what to say. Wish he'd just kiss me, she thought. Then I wouldn't have to say anything. But Nolan, she realized, never made the first move when it came to that. And he watched her so intently she couldn't bring herself to initiate anything. Instead she pulled her tongue from the roof of her mouth and spoke.

"Forty-five minutes, actually," she corrected. "I don't know, I could teach you. But then you couldn't just walk out of my life, you know. I mean, you'd be responsible for my makeup..."

She tried her best to sound light, teasing. A smile hovered reluctantly somewhere at the corners of her mouth. Nolan didn't smile. He drew his fingertip down the curve of her cheek, brushing her lower lip ever so faintly on his way down over her chin and along her neck.

"I wouldn't mind that," he murmured.

Oh, she thought, her heart thrumming, her pulse alive in her veins. Does he really... ? She reached up, touching his cheek tentatively like she had last night. And just like last night he leaned into her touch.

Kateri dug her fingers into his hair. She caught him behind the neck and pulled his head down. A frisson ran along her nerves, raising gooseflesh all down her arms, as his mouth covered hers. She sank against him, let herself get lost in the tender pressure of his lips. Yet she was the one who nibbled at his lower lip, who coaxed until he let her slide her tongue inside his mouth. When she did, he groaned and tightened his hold on her.

His fingers, so capable with paintbrush and charcoal, played along her skin with similar skill. She moaned as his traced a line down her throat, along the length of her collarbones, down the inside of her arm. His heat went straight through the flimsy silk of her dress.

Nolan caught the shoulder strap with his index finger and drew it down with slow deliberateness. Kateri shivered as he cupped her breast, warmth flooding through plain white cotton. He pulled her bra out of the way and teased at her nipple with his thumb. She sucked in her breath, a sharp gasp of pleasure. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that her skin felt hot and prickly from just that light, feathery touch.

Nolan drew back abruptly. "Sorry," he panted.

She stared at him. "What?"

He stared back, a barely suppressed smile lighting his eyes. "I think maybe you should clean your face, sweetheart. Not that I mind mascara tracks, but you might."

Kateri flushed. She pulled her clothing back into place and scrambled out of his lap, confused. What is it this time? she wondered as she headed to the bathroom. This is so frustrating ... Nolan seemed to be attracted to her, but he kept stopping just as things were getting interesting. And apologizing. What was with the apologizing?

In the bathroom she looked in the mirror and winced. Dark tracks stained her cheeks. With a sigh she turned on the faucet and began scrubbing the mascara away. Maybe I need to wear better underwear ... she mused as she dabbled cold water on her achy nose. She hadn't really thought about that while she was getting dressed, but her boring cotton bra and panties weren't all that intriguing.

Oh, if only this really were as easy as getting back on a bicycle.

Kateri dried her face and padded back out of the bathroom. She found Nolan leaning over her computer desk, studying the screen of Virtual Canvas. Her heart leapt into her throat.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Nolan whirled. A faint guilty flush washed across his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the desk.

"Sorry. I was just trying to distract myself and this ... it suddenly came out of sleep mode. I was curious, so..."

"So you decided to snoop?" Kateri folded her arms. "Distract yourself from what, anyway?"

He looked her up and down. One corner of his mouth quirked in half a rueful smile. "You."

Oh, she thought, her stomach fluttering with a strange mixture of nerves and pleasure. She tried to hold on to her irritation as she crossed to the computer desk. The sunset painting—if one could call it that when one used a computer to "paint"—was open on the screen.

"I thought I turned this off," she muttered, tapping the corner of the screen to "put away" the picture. "I swear, it has a mind of its own."

Nolan caught her wrist before she could hit the power button. "Did you do these?"

"Uh, yeah. But they're not—"

"Kateri, they're fantastic."

He brushed against her side, nudging her gently away from the computer. While she stood there chewing her lip, Nolan selected another thumbnail. A reproduction of Water Lilies, even blurrier and dreamier than the original, rolled out across the screen. Though she could use brushes on the screen, rather than her fingers, if she wanted to, Kateri preferred using only her hands. It hurt less than trying to hold a paint brush—but it looked like she'd done it with her hands.

As Nolan opened another painting, Kateri shrank in on herself. Damn this computer and its weird behavior.

"Could you please just..." she began, then sighed. "I didn't intend for anyone to see them."

"Why the hell not?"

"Look at them! They're not even real art, I did them on the computer."

Nolan turned to her, one eyebrow quirked. "I have a few friends who'd take issue with that statement."

"I ... I only meant..." Kateri sighed again. "It's just not the same."

Nolan closed the picture he was looking at. He studied her intently, until she found herself shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Would you meet me at the studio tomorrow?" he asked.

"There's no class tomorrow..."

"Will you?"

She considered for a moment, then nodded. "I guess so. But why—"

"Come on," Nolan said, slipping an arm around her waist. "I still owe you dessert."

"Are you always this pushy?" Kateri asked, scowling as he steered her towards the kitchen.

"Only when I'm around you." He lifted her onto the stool. "Come on, princess. Surely I can distract you with the promise of chocolate, whipped cream, and fresh strawberries..."

"I'm not going to like the reason you want me to go to the studio, am I?"

Nolan ducked down to open his cooler, avoiding the question. I know he just wants to help, Kateri thought, watching him, but I don't think ... He shuffled around in the cooler and bit his lip and made small noises under his breath, like he was trying to figure out what to say; a typical Nolan habit. Mainly when he was really hoping to avoid having to speak.

You're the one who wanted to live your life again, a voice at the back of her mind reminded her. You could at least try. A spark of fear ignited in her belly but she held it back. Tonight hadn't gone so badly, had it? Nolan had even seen her get upset over something she could no longer do and it hadn't bothered him. Certainly she could make one last spirited attempt at what he would—inevitably—ask her to do.

She let out a breath. "Okay, fine."

"What?" Nolan straightened, a carton of strawberries in one hand.

"I'll go to the studio tomorrow. I'll even give whatever you're planning a shot—don't look at me like that, I know you're planning something. But you'd better be willing to deal with the temper tantrums."

A slow smile crept across Nolan's face. For once, rather than boyish, it was sexy. A flash of memory—warm air, ocean waves, the taste of pina colada lingering on her tongue—stirred inside her. Everything about Nolan was like those days stretched out on the beach in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean: sultry, decadent, hot. Next time she went on one of those vacations—if she ever went again—she'd bring him with her.

Kateri licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She tried to say something, anything, so she wouldn't look like an idiot. Nolan leaned over the counter and pressed a strawberry between her lips, stifling her quite effectively.

"Don't worry," he murmured, still smiling that heart-stopping smile. "I like a little fire in my women, anyway."



-------

Chapter 7


Normally whistling wasn't a hobby of Nolan's, but he seemed to be doing it a lot lately. He whistled as he set up the enormous canvas he'd gotten his hands on this morning, as he lined up a row of paint tubes and tubs.

Today wouldn't be easy; he knew that. He was getting through to Kateri but she made it quite a challenge. Not that he blamed her. What was done to her was ... sickening, he thought. He wished he could strangle the man who'd done it. As for Molly ... well, he knew from a quick Google search that her career was dead in the water these days, but it hardly seemed enough for what she'd done.

Perhaps he was getting in over his head with this. Kateri needed a lot of patience, a lot of gentle coaxing, to get her out of her shell and she was stubbornly resistant to it. Nolan had plenty of patience, though. Even though sometimes she didn't seem grateful he still wanted to help. And really, she was warming up to him quite nicely.

Perhaps a bit too nicely, he thought, frowning. That would be the most difficult part of the day: keeping his hands off her. His desire to avoid frightening her struggled to overcome his, well, desire period. If he closed his eyes he could still see the image of her, her lips wet with strawberry juice, her eyes bright with curiosity as she watched him make dessert. That was not the kind of thought that would leave clearheaded.

The door rattled. Nolan turned, forcing those thoughts out of his head for the moment. Kateri stepped through the door, wearing a dusty rose hoodie and a tentative smile.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Glad you came," he responded, grinning. "Was a little worried you might bail on me."

"I considered it," she admitted unabashedly. "But it seemed poor repayment for such a delicious meal."

"I'll remember that next time you try to wriggle out of something."

Her smile widened. She turned and locked the studio door—though Nolan didn't think anyone would intrude—then unzipped her hoodie. She obviously had some idea what his plan was, as she dressed prepared: a plain white camisole beneath a short pair of overalls already showing a few faint paint stains.

"This isn't going to work," she said, draping her hoodie over a stool. "I've tried. I can't hold a brush."

"Good thing we won't be using brushes, then."

She blanched. "What?"

"Relax, princess," Nolan said, suppressing a frown. He was upset, but not at her. "What's wrong now, huh? Don't tell me you're afraid of getting a bit of paint on your hands."

He tried to keep his voice light. When she continued to hang back uncertainly, he went to her. Nolan caught her hand, cupping it tenderly. He urged her towards the canvas.

"I don't know about this," she hedged.

"You can't know until you try, right?"

"I have tried..."

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. An expression of sorrow, deeper than any he'd yet seen, crossed her face. She kept walking towards the canvas. Kateri reached out, brushing the canvas' surface with her fingertips. A deep, shuddering sigh wracked her from head to toe. Guess you can take the girl out of the art, Nolan thought, but you can't take the art out of the girl.

"What happened?" he asked. He came up behind her and put his arms around her, drawing her against him.

"I thought—I thought they weren't too bad. But I showed them to my father, and he..."

"He isn't here now," Nolan murmured. "Just you and me. I'll even paint with you. Then your father could hate it twice as much."

Much to his relief, she laughed. Though she rolled her eyes, when she slipped out of his grasp it was to reach for the paint. He hadn't been certain what type she'd prefer, so he'd laid out oils, acrylics, and watercolors. After a moment of thought she selected a tube of acrylic, cadmium red to be exact. Good thing I dressed for this, Nolan thought ruefully. His old jeans and T-shirt weren't likely to come out of this in good shape.

As if something had sparked inside her, Kateri began choosing colors with abandon. She stuck to bright shades of yellow, orange, red and similar, plus a pale peach and tubes of white and black. He watched with fascination as she set things up where she wanted them, though he saw no rhyme or reason to her decisions.

"My father doesn't care for red very much, you know," she said as she tried to twist off the cap.

"I'm starting to think you're right about your father," Nolan admitted. "He's a jerk."

Without a word he carefully pried the tube from her grasp and unscrewed the cap. She looked only mildly peeved when he handed it back.

"I used to look up to him just as much as you," Kateri said. She used her palms to squeeze some paint onto a palette. "Maybe I shouldn't have. I saw signs of how he really was even when I was a kid, but I never really wanted to acknowledge it."

"Most of us don't ever want to admit there could be something really wrong with our parents. That's perfectly normal."

"Here, mix this with a bit of water for me, would you?"

She tossed him a tube of orange paint. Nolan grabbed some of the sticks he usually used for paint mixing. They worked in near silence, with only the occasional command from Kateri. The years hadn't changed that part of her; she still knew exactly what she wanted when it came to art.

After a few minutes she let out a frustrated growl and shoved her hair back over her shoulder. Nolan reached into his backpack and pulled out a spare bandana (he always kept a few). While she scowled impatiently, he tied the bandana in place. And here she acted like she didn't want to do this, he thought, swallowing a laugh at the eager way she dipped her fingers in the paint. She probably didn't even realize she was doing it, probably still thought she was being stubborn and cranky.

He tied his own bandana firmly in place, then stood there, uncertain what to do next.

"Did you bring brushes?" Kateri wanted to know. Her eyes remained on the canvas.

"Yeah."

"Good. Get them out. I've got an idea."

"Should I be worried about that?" he asked as he rooted his brushes out of his backpack.

"Perhaps."

She was already at work, feathering her fingers over the canvas, spreading orange paint. Nolan had no idea what she was getting at, but he stuck a spare brush behind his ear and moved to stand next to her.

"Here," Kateri said. She grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand where she wanted it, a short distance from her own work on the canvas. "Move like this..."

Though she couldn't hold a brush anymore, Nolan quickly found out there was nothing wrong with her ability to guide. Of course, it meant he got paint on his hand and arm, wherever she touched, but he'd suffered worse indignities in his life. And well, she was already getting plenty on herself, not just on her hands but on her clothing too.

"So," she said, a slight murmur of distraction in her voice, "are you ever going to explain?"

"Um ... huh?" Ah, yes, there he went with the eloquence again. The problem seemed to be even worse around Kateri.

"Why you're doing this. Why ... why you even like me. I know you had a thing for me when we were younger, but—but why? Was it just the art thing?"

She continued to focus on the canvas when she asked, as if that gave her the courage to speak. Nolan noticed the slow creep of a pink flush, up her neck, over her cheeks, all the way to her ears. He felt a little warm himself. Though Kateri worked—and kept pointing him in the direction she wanted him to go, guiding his hand in arcs or wispy strokes—he got the impression she waited intently for his answer.

"I guess... 'cause you were nice," he said finally. "I mean, not just to me, but to everyone. Even people who weren't so nice to you."

"Not anymore," she pointed out. "I barely even talk to people anymore."

"You were pretty nice the other day when you were helping your dad's students."

She went even redder.

"Hey, look, you asked. I'm not so great at words, though; I prefer to show people. Bloody hard to show someone why you like them."

Kateri considered that for a moment, then giggled. "This is the most awkward conversation I've ever had."

"Hey, you started it."

She turned to him for the first time in a while and, to his surprise, stuck her tongue out at him. Her eyes crinkled with laughter.

"Aha!" Nolan exclaimed. "So that's the attraction. You've gotten so immature, I finally feel like we're on the same wavelength."

She expressed the immaturity he accused her of by swiping her paint-smeared fingers across his shirt. A self-satisfied smile played on her lips as she turned back to the canvas. Nolan stood for a moment in thought. Then he tapped her bare shoulder. Kateri faced him again, one eyebrow raised, still looking smug. He lifted his paintbrush and stroked it down her cheek, leaving behind a faint trail of peach paint.

Her eyes widened in outrage; real or not, he couldn't quite tell. She swiped a glob of cadmium red from the palette and dabbed at his cheek in turn. Nolan yelped; despite her warm fingers the paint was cold from the studio's air conditioning. Kateri let out a huff of mock indignation and went back to work, her nose in the air. Nolan gaped at her.

"You're distracting me," she said primly.

"Well, excuse me, princess," he riposted. "For a moment there I thought I saw a sense of humor and it shocked me, truly."

She laughed. "Oh, quit fooling around and help me."

Kateri grabbed his wrist—covering him in more paint in the process—and dragged him near, until his side pressed against hers. Nolan shifted so he stood behind her, putting his arms around her to reach the canvas. Now this is nice, he thought, inhaling the scent of peaches and paint. He didn't know what had gotten into her, though he could hazard a guess. And I like it. A lot.

For a long while he had no idea what the picture was supposed to be. But under Kateri's fingers—still skilled even without a brush, even broken and mangled—and her quiet guidance, it began to take form. He marveled as their strokes and smears turned into a waterfall. Except it didn't look like a waterfall normally did.

The water was deep red, turning to sunset orange where the light hit it. The white foam of rapids was instead yellow and peach. The rocks the water spilled over looked like small, misshapen suns and at the bottom, where a regular waterfall sprayed a heavy mist, brightly colored flames danced. Nolan watched it form with near breathless anticipation. Kateri's father would hate it, but it was truly magnificent.

"I never used a canvas this large, even after the ... attack," Kateri said sometime later. "It's ... useful."

"This—this is different from you usual work," Nolan responded, choosing his words carefully. "Less..."

"Classical?"

"Yeah. And really, really amazing."

She turned to look at him, rolling her eyes. Then she gave his cheek a poke, leaving behind a streak of yellow paint.

He returned the 'assault' with one of his own, brushing his paintbrush over her nose. She squealed in surprise—a wholly un-Kateri-like yet wonderful sound—and lunged at him. As she crashed into him he caught her wrists, trying to keep her paint-covered fingers away from his face. Her laughter chimed, sweet and high and bell-like. She looked happy, the happiest he'd seen her since they'd reconnected, and he just couldn't help himself.

Nolan pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers, forgetting about the paint on her—and his—hands. She didn't really seem to care. She dug her fingers into his hair and clung to him, her mouth opening beneath his. He slid his tongue up against hers, savoring the heat of her mouth and the press of her body. Kateri let out a moan, a purring sound that built from somewhere low in her throat and startled the heck out of him.

He jerked back, breaking the kiss. "Sorry!"

"Why?" Kateri demanded, pulling away from him. "Why, why, why!? Every time we kiss, you do this. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing! Believe me, nothing is wrong with you."

"Then what's the problem?"

Nolan sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when they came away covered in paint. "It's just ... what happened to you. I don't want to scare you or hurt you."

"I'm not made of porcelain, Nolan," Kateri responded. "What happened—yeah, it was bad. And sometimes I still think about what might have happened if my parents didn't come home when they did. But ... but it didn't happen.

"And you," she went on, throwing her hands up, "you're the one who keeps trying to draw me out. It's like you keep trying to show me I don't have to live my life as a victim and at the same time, you keep treating me like one. What is it you want? Do you want me to do this?" She gestured at the canvas. "For you, I would. Because you make me want to do it for me. But you..."

She stopped, letting her hands fall limply by her sides. Unshed tears wavered in her eyes and she looked so forlorn. I am such an idiot, Nolan thought, staring at her. God, he could kick himself.

He reached out for her, terrified she'd pull away. When she just stood there, he closed the distance between them and put his arms around her. She leaned into him with a heavy sigh.

"Look, I just ... I'm new at this," Nolan said. "I'm not exactly an expert in princess rescuing. And uh ... when I'm around you, I want—that is, I really want to, um—and well, you see, I'm afraid you might ... oh, fuck it."

He caught her face in his hands and kissed her. By now they were both covered in paint and he thought neither of them cared; he knew he didn't. She moved against him, whimpering softly, her fingers curled tight around his biceps. Nolan drew in a ragged breath and pulled back, but this time he didn't apologize or let her go. Instead he stared down into her stormy sky eyes and smiled, a little uncertainly.

She took a deep breath and said, "Come home with me."

He swallowed. His entire body felt too warm and tight. "If ... if I do, I—well, I want..."

"I know." Kateri smiled. "That's why I want you to come home with me."

Nolan leaned his forehead against hers. "You really know how to pull my strings, don't you?"

"Isn't that what a princess does?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. Come on, let's clean up ... and go home."



-------

Chapter 8


Kateri struggled to keep her hands from shaking as she fished her keys out of her pocket. Her whole body buzzed, nerves alive with a mixture of excitement, happiness, and anticipation.

Part of her couldn't quite believe she'd had the nerve to ask Nolan to come home with her; the rest of her was glad she'd done it. She didn't want to hide anymore. Being so apart from the rest of the world left her lonely, unhappy. So even though it meant risking so much—her heart, her fragile hopes—she'd gone to the art studio. She'd gone prepared to try whatever Nolan wanted her to try.

And it was fun, she thought, smiling. When I just relaxed and let myself paint, like I do on Virtual Canvas, it was a lot of fun. Especially with Nolan painting alongside her. Kateri actually liked the painting they'd done. And he was right, her father would absolutely hate it. That was the best part.

A hand brushed the small of her back. She glanced over her shoulder at Nolan, smiling nervously. He smiled back and raised his eyebrows at the door. Flushing, she hurriedly unlocked the door and pushed it open. She stepped into a flood of cool air and mid-afternoon sunlight. Though normally she closed her curtains up when she left the apartment, she'd left them all drawn back this morning.

"Wow," Nolan breathed behind her. "It's so beautiful up here."

"Mm. That's why I picked this one. Lots of privacy, but still lots of light."

Her heart fluttered. Or maybe that was the butterflies in her stomach; she couldn't tell. Now that they were here, standing in her apartment, she began to wonder if she could go through with it.

"Ah, Kateri, you're home!" Icelos' voice rang out. "I was wondering where you ran off to this—oh. You have company."

Nolan looked around for the source of the voice, confusion obvious on his face. Worried he might get the wrong idea, Kateri hurried over to the computer. Icelos stood front and center on the screen, peering out with his eyebrows furrowed like a concerned father. She tried not to giggle as she pushed back the computer chair and sat.

"It's just Nolan," she explained. "How'd you know he was here with me?"

Nolan stepped up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. "What the heck is that?"

"My name," Icelos said with a sniff, "is Icelos."

"He's um, I guess he's like the Virtual Canvas mascot or something," Kateri said with a shrug. "He's a bit uncanny, I know."

"A bit? Princess, he knew you weren't alone."

"Lucky guess or something. I'll shut him down," she said, shooting a glower at Icelos. In a whisper she added, "Do you mind? This isn't a ménage a trois."

Icelos' eyebrows rose. "I see."

Kateri glanced back at Nolan. He'd moved away to pace the kitchen, looking as nervous as she felt. She watched him for a moment, then turned back to Icelos when she was certain he wasn't paying attention. She leaned low over the computer, until she was nearly nose-to-nose with the computer screen.

"Thanks, Ice."

"Whatever for, my dear?"

She smiled. "I think you already know."

He smiled back.

"Would you shut down for me, please?" she asked. "I um ... well, no offense to you or anything, but ah..."

Icelos winked. Without another word he faded from the screen and the computer itself began to shut down. Kateri stood somehow, in spite of her shaking knees.

She found Nolan dawdling in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards idly. Even though she walked quietly, he jumped when she approached. Does he feel the way I feel? she wondered. With everything between them so new and fragile, she was both excited and terrified all at once.

And covered in paint, she thought, wrinkling her nose. The movement caused paint on her cheek to crackle strangely against her skin.

"I uh ... need to shower."

Nolan nodded. "Okay."

"Do you ... want to join me?"

Kateri couldn't quite believe she'd said the words, but she must have; Nolan looked completely stunned. She stood, fidgeting, wriggling her toes against the soles of her flip-flops. He's going to say no, she realized as the silence dragged on. Damnit, how can I have forgotten so much? Had this sort of thing ever been so difficult before? Three years wasn't all that long, and yet it seemed like the life she'd lived—the person she'd been—had been gone far longer than that.

"Yeah," Nolan said suddenly, sounding breathless. "Yeah, I do."

"Oh."

With her pulse loud in her ears, Kateri stepped out of her flip-flops, turned, and headed for the bathroom. Her movements felt stiff, like the Tin Man before oiling. Nolan walked with her, close to her side, his arm brushing against hers.

Normally the bathroom felt too large; now it closed in on her, smaller than it had any right to be. A chill rose up from the black and white tile. Kateri stared at Nolan, at a complete loss for what to do next. She stood frozen until he approached her and reached out tentatively. At her nod, he unfastened her overalls and let them fall.

As she stood shivering, wearing only the camisole and her underwear—pink and lacy this time—Nolan broke into a grin.

"What?" she demanded. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "I was just thinking how crazy beautiful you are."

Heat flooded her cheeks; the flush of pleasure, not embarrassment. She put her arms around him, pulling him against her and tilted her head back. His hands wandered over her back and sides as he kissed her, slowly pushing her cami up and out of the way. Kateri mimicked his movements, sliding her hands beneath his shirt to feel warm skin and hard muscle. She wanted to keep kissing him but she untangled herself from his arms and drew back.

"Need to get the shower running," she pointed out, a little breathless.

"Go right ahead, princess."

Kateri turned to tend to the water. She heard the rustle of clothing behind her and smiled. Then Nolan's hands were on her again, distracting her while she tried to adjust the water temperature. He pressed his mouth to her skin, nibbling her neck, teasing the curve of her ear with the tip of his tongue. She shivered and moaned when he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then reached around to cup her breasts.

"I did warn you," Nolan said. He nipped her shoulder. "You didn't listen."

Kateri slid her panties down, kicked them aside. She faced Nolan and smiled. "Yeah, I did." She backed into the shower, gesturing for him to follow. "It just wasn't a very effective warning."

She winced inwardly; the words came out sounding too stiff. Her confidence came back in dribbles and drabs, especially with Nolan standing there, naked and verging on Greek god in build. Yet it was coming back, enough that she could stand beneath the water, droplets running down her body, her hair loose to her hips, and smile in what she hoped was a tempting way. But maybe I should save most of the temptress act for later, she decided.

Nolan stepped under the water with her. Immediately he caught her again, started kissing her fervently. Kateri laughed and ducked out of his grip, reaching for a bottle of shower gel. He had her around the waist, tickling her sides, before she could do more than claim the bottle.

"You're impossible!" she exclaimed around a laugh. "I'm going to get you clean whether you like it or not, so you might as well behave."

"Can I misbehave afterwards?"

"I'll be really annoyed with you if you don't."

Nolan grinned. "Okay. Clean away, princess."

She stuck her tongue out at him, which only encouraged him to do the same. But he did settle down—mostly—and let her get them both clean.

Kateri worked to get paint off skin and out of hair. I could get used to this, she thought, running her hands down Nolan's back. Very used to it. She leaned closer to lick the water from his skin and heard his breath catch. Her touch turned his breathing ragged, even when she was just washing his hair.

He helped her in return—sort of. She leaned into him, sighing, almost purring as his hands moved over her, her shoulders and arms, hips and belly, her thighs, everywhere. Technically he got her clean, but mostly his touching served to fire her blood. She tried not to wriggle too much; she could feel the effect that had on him pressing against her. But every time his hands brushed the inside of her thighs or the curve of her breasts, she couldn't stop herself from writhing.

"Too much hair," she grumbled as Nolan helped her rub in shampoo. When he did that, he couldn't touch the rest of her.

"I like it," he murmured. He kissed her shoulder, her neck. "Not to mention everything else about you."

Kateri turned her head, meeting his mouth with hers. She leaned into the kiss, nipped at his lower lip in demanding hunger, pressed into him until he forgot her hair and wrapped his arms around her. She fought to stop herself from whimpering, even though the sensation of his skin against hers drove her crazy. Too long, she thought, it's been way too long. And she couldn't remember ever wanting anyone as much as she wanted Nolan.

"We should ... finish this," he panted against her mouth. "The shower, I mean."

"Mm." Kateri kissed him again. She didn't give a damn about the shower anymore.

They finished getting her hair clean and—paint-free at last—stumbled out of the shower together. Kateri reached blindly for the towel that normally hung from the bar close to the shower, but she was too busy wrapped up in Nolan to look properly.

She bit back a cry when he stopped kissing her. He stared at her for a moment, his green eyes bright with something she couldn't name. Then he leaned down and kissed her shoulder. Kissed her neck. Ran his tongue down over her collarbone. While she stood, dripping water, shaking with anticipation, he drank the moisture from her skin, working his way slowly down her body.

Kateri watched him, her mouth going dry. She worried at her lower lip, stifling small mewling sounds as he nipped at her breasts, peppered her ribcage with light, fluttery kisses. Nolan wrapped his arms around her thighs as he dropped to his knees, pulling her legs open and supporting her weight at the same time.

He kissed her belly, then her hip, then her thigh. She barely breathed as she waited, trembling, her body tight and her nerves alive. Then he pressed his mouth against her, his lips open just enough for her to feel the moist touch of his tongue. Her vision swam strangely as the tip of his tongue stroked her clit. She buried her fingers in his hair and clung tight, praying he could hold her up because her legs were already turning to jelly.

Another light brush of his tongue made her whimper.

"Don't tease me," she begged. "Please. I can't..."

Nolan tightened his grip on her. He licked, long strokes of his tongue that sent sweet tingles up her spine. Kateri squirmed in his hold, moving against him, pressing herself to his mouth with an edge of desperation. She bit her lip until it hurt to keep back her cries, yet still they boiled in her throat as her body coiled tighter and tighter.

A breathy groan escaped her as she came. Her shaky legs gave out on her. While she closed her eyes and savored the glorious tremors running through her body, Nolan lowered her into his lap. Kateri felt the press of him, hard against her thigh, and noticed he was shaking as much as her.

She opened her eyes to find him watching her. "Are you okay?"

"Uh ... sort of."

Kateri raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"It's just..." Nolan blew out a breath. "I'm having some self-control issues here. Especially when," he gasped when she shifted in his lap, "especially when you do that."

"Oh."

"I was hoping to be at least a little civilized about this."

A heady combination of endorphins and amusement made her laugh. "Nolan, it's been more than three years. Right now 'civilized' isn't exactly in my vocabulary."

He broke into a broad grin. "A woman after my own heart."

Kateri unwound herself—reluctantly—from his hold and stood up, her legs still quivering. Nolan surged to his feet with a great deal more ease. She walked to the door, had just opened it when he caught her. He lifted her easily, turning her and hefting her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

"Hey!" she yelped, kicking her feet.

"Warned you," he responded cheerily, heading down the hallway. "I'm a total barbarian, princess."

She bit him, getting a yelp to match her own. "And I'm no princess. The bedroom is the one at the end of the hall."

"If you weren't a princess, would you have been so kind as to tell me that?"

"I had to. Just like any other man, you didn't bother to ask for directions."

Nolan shifted his grip on her so he could poke her side, tickling her. She squealed and kicked, but he held on firmly and carried her into the bedroom. Sunlight poured in through the windows, with the curtains drawn all the way back as they were. Kateri sighed as Nolan deposited her on the bed, in a patch of warm, golden light; she stretched, partially sated but still more than eager.

As soon as Nolan joined her on the bed she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. A shudder ran through them both as he slid inside her. He propped his weight on his elbows and cupped her face in his hands, pushing wet strands of hair off her cheeks. Kateri touched his face in turn, marveling yet again at the way he leaned into her hands, unperturbed by the shape of them.

Then he was moving inside her and she forgot about everything else. Nolan's mouth covered hers, his kisses ravenous, his teeth catching her lower lip in less-than-gentle nips. She nipped back, gripped his arms hard and dug her nails in, urging him on. She raised her hips to meet each thrust, needing the feeling of him deep inside her.

He moved his mouth to her neck. She pressed her lips to his ear and murmured, "Harder."

Then she bit him, though not too hard. Nolan chuckled softly, kissed her again as he moved, thrusting harder. She opened her mouth to him, shivering and moaning as his tongue brushed hers. The ache built inside her, until all she could do was cling to him, her face hidden against his shoulder, as her body shuddered with climax.

She heard a muffled groan. Nolan buried his face in her neck; beneath her hands she felt the tremors of his body, caught up in orgasm too. I really did miss this, she thought, closing her eyes, savoring the moment.

Suddenly Nolan let out a heavy sigh.

"Um..." Kateri blinked.

He raised his head and gazed down at her, green eyes sad. "I'm really not sixteen anymore. Otherwise we'd already be doing this again."

She laughed. "Yeah, but would you be any good at it?"

"Maybe not, but for you, I'd learn."

She started to laugh again, but this time the look on his face was completely serious. Oh, Kateri thought, her heart speeding up. He really meant that. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and kissed him lightly. After a moment he slid out of her. She scooted further up on the bed and gestured for him to join her.

Once they were curled up together beneath the covers, Kateri rested her head on Nolan's chest. He coiled an arm around her, pressing her close to his side.

"Next time I promise I'll try to be more civilized," he murmured, kissing her temple.

"Oh god, please don't. I'd have to be disappointed in you."

It was Nolan's turn to laugh. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her further onto his chest. "If you're trying to get me to fall in love with you again," he said, "it's working nicely."

"Oh, good." Kateri smothered a yawn and closed her eyes.

"Sneaky."

"Nonsense. All's fair in love and war, right?"

"And which is this?"

"Oh, war. Definitely war."



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Chapter 9


At some point he became aware of something missing. The comforting warmth that had been curled up against his side, the weight of Kateri's head on his chest, the tickle of her hair, the sound of her breathing—all had disappeared sometime while he slept.

Nolan sat up abruptly, shaking off sleep. Patches of silver stretched across the room: early moonlight, still low in the sky. Something rustled; he looked toward the end of the bed and saw Kateri sitting there. She wore a silk robe, a saffron in color that look golden beneath the light. With her legs drawn up against her chest and her hair a curtain around her face, she looked very small.

Nolan climbed out from beneath the covers and went to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. She sighed, leaned into him gratefully.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked. He brushed her hair back from her cheek and kissed her.

"Just ... a lot on my mind," she murmured in response. "Tomorrow is ... you know, the anniversary."

"Ah. I see."

He held her tight and said no more; if she wanted to speak, she would. Already she'd told him more than she'd told anyone in years, shown him more trust than anyone had a right to expect from her. He refused to push her.

You have truly lost your mind, he told himself. Not that he cared. Nolan buried his nose under Kateri's sweet-smelling hair and sighed contentedly. She could probably wrap him around her little finger if she wanted to, but she didn't come across as that kind of woman. Rather she huddled in his arms as if they were the only safe place in the world, demanding nothing from him but comfort.

After a while he spoke, hoping to lighten the mood some. "Kateri is an interesting name. Where does it come from?"

"It's Greek by way of Native American, actually."

"What?"

She chuckled and turned to face him more. "My mom's side of the family is Greek through and through. My grandparents on my father's side were Native American, though. Mohawk, to be precise.

"Both of my grandmothers were ... stubborn. It wouldn't do for Grandma Chloe that I didn't have a Greek name, and Grandma Ari wanted me to have a Mohawk name, even though traditional ones have kinda fallen by the wayside. Fortunately, there was a solution: Kateri. For the Greek Aikaterine." She sighed. "Poor Grams would be heartbroken if she knew we don't pronounce it correctly."

Nolan snickered.

"It's true! Mom couldn't pronounce it, Dad barely could, the staff certainly couldn't, not my teachers or other students..." Kateri ticked them off on her fingers. "Everyone gave up even trying by the time I was five."

"And your grandmother?"

Kateri's face fell. "She died not long after I was born. I never really got to know her. Everyone always said she was really kind, though—stubborn streak and all. I wanted to be like her."

Nolan turned her further, until she was facing him completely. He caught her wrists, pulled her arms around his neck. She leaned into him, expression brightening again, eyes going silver blue in the moonlight. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, letting his lips linger over hers, feeling the warmth of her breath on his skin. He drew her with him as he leaned back, stretching out across the mattress.

"I think your grandmother would be proud of you," he said softly.

"Maybe." She settled across his hips, hunched over and precarious. "Nolan, I can't—I don't know if I can do this with my hands like they are."

He reached up, tugged on the delicate cinch holding her robe closed. The saffron silk slid back, baring her shoulders, her breasts. He ran his hands along her sides, pushing the robe back, tracing the curve of her hips, the softness of her belly. She sighed, relaxing beneath his touch. His body stirred. What he felt for her was no mere wanting; it was a craving, so strong he had to clench his teeth to fight it.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he assured her. "If your hands aren't enough, use mine."

He held them out to her. She studied his face, her lips parted, her breath slightly rough. Nolan swallowed hard as she moved against him, her eyes watching him, full of eagerness. She placed her hands in his, gripped as tightly as she could. In one fluid motion she shifted position, raising her hips, settling on him. He stifled a groan as she slid down the length of him, enveloping him in heat.

With only the slightest hesitation—probably because of her hands—Kateri began to move. Years may have passed but she hadn't forgotten; the body never forgets.

Once she seemed more secure, she removed her hands from his. Nolan touched her eagerly, stroking her arms, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples. She leaned into his touch, arching her back. He lifted his hips to meet her, groaning as she tightened around him. Kateri laughed softly and gazed down at him.

"I forgot how this feels," she murmured, catching one of his hands between hers. "Mmm..."

"Now you're just teasing me," Nolan panted as she slowed her pace.

"Maybe a little."

She smiled, a decidedly Cheshire expression. Nolan raised an eyebrow but her smile simply widened.

A spark of mischief flared up in him. Using all his strength he surged upward, startling a yelp from her. Once he was sitting up he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against his chest. She wound her arms around him in turn; her hair fell across them both like a curtain. Laughing, Kateri tossed it back, out of her face and out of their way.

"You truly are a barbarian," she teased.

Nolan nuzzled her breasts. "Mmmhmm..."

He moved, eliciting a moan from her. Nolan pressed his face against her neck, held onto her tight as her body caused a glorious friction around his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips pressed against the curve of his ear. He thrust into her and she met him each time, gasping and moaning softly. Time seemed to suspend; the rest of the world fell away in his senses, leaving only him and her, only the taste and feel of her.

His climax, when it hit, shook him right down to his core. He wound his fingers in her hair, pressed his forehead to her shoulder and breathed heavily, trembling. Kateri shuddered, whimpering his name softly. He felt her flex around him, felt the faint quivering of the aftershocks of her orgasm. Then she relaxed, going limp against his chest.

Tired now, Nolan stretched out on the bed with her still on top of him. She shifted off him, curling up against his side. He tugged a blanket over them, stroked her hair back from her face, kissed her forehead before settling in.

"Love you," she murmured sleepily.

"Liar."

"Nope. Don't lie."

Nolan's heart sped up. He caught her beneath the chin and tilted her head up. "Are you serious?"

She blinked at him. "Yeah. But I might change my mind if you don't let me sleep."

"Kateri..."

"I'm not just saying it because I'm tired. Okay? I'm not saying you have to feel the same, either."

Nolan rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up and sleep, princess. Of course I love you."

She grinned, then rested her head back on his chest. He lay awake, listening to her breathing evening out in sleep, stroking her hair and watching the dark strands slide between his fingers. Guess I rescued the princess from the tower after all, he thought, smiling to himself. Of course, it helped that she'd been willing to do half the work herself, but he wouldn't want any other kind of princess.

This one, though, he thought, closing his eyes at last, is just perfect.

-------

Since it was ten o'clock in the morning, Nolan figured he was well within his rights to wake Kateri up. Granted, he wasn't waking her up directly, but all the noise he was making—coupled with his whistling rendition of My Girl—would probably make her stir.

He adjusted the temperature on her stove, lifted the frying pan, and flipped the pancake he was working on. He'd had to go out to get supplies for them—which meant, of course, a few taunting grins from Marnie, though fortunately the woman hadn't put him through any interrogation. Or more butt checks.

As he was depositing the latest pancake on the plate, Kateri came wandering down the hallway, wearing her saffron robe, her hair pulled aside in a hasty ponytail. A stormy expression knitted her brows, but it disappeared quickly when she caught the scent of breakfast. She came into the kitchen, a smile warming her eyes to an almost sunny sky blue. Moment of truth, Nolan realized. Does she even remember what she said to me last night?

"That smells divine," she declared. "What is it?"

"Raspberry pancakes," he replied as he poured more batter into the pan.

"And coffee. I smell coffee." Her smile broadened to a grin. "You found the French press, I see."

"Yeah, did a little poking around for the things I need. You don't mind?"

"For pancakes and coffee? That I don't have to make myself? Hell no," Kateri assured him. "Um, Nolan..."

Here it comes, he thought.

"Did you mean it, last night? I mean ... what you said? You know."

He stared. "Of course I did. Did you?"

She stared back. "Well, duh. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Nolan laughed. Guess a few things will still be awkward for a while, he thought, plopping the final pancake atop the rest of the stack. He could deal with that.

He set the pancake plate down on the counter; she didn't actually have a kitchen table, something that would need to be remedied. Kateri perched on the same stool she'd sat on the night he made sushi and eyed the pancakes hungrily. Nolan brought over forks and butter knives, butter, plates, mugs for the coffee, and the sweet, vanilla whipped cream he'd made to go atop the pancakes. Finally he settled down on the stool next to hers.

"Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the pancakes.

Kateri grabbed her fork and snagged two pancakes from the plate.

"I take it by the half-and-half I found in your fridge you're not one of those freaks who drinks her coffee black."

"Nope. I'm a freak for other reasons." She grinned.

Nolan leaned down to kiss her cheek before getting some pancakes of his own. "I like this side of you, princess. The sense of humor suits you well."

"Yeah, well, it's kinda new," she admitted, turning in her seat. "It's all thanks to dealing with..."

She was off the stool so fast that it fell over. Startled, Nolan dropped his fork and leapt to his feet. He followed Kateri as she rushed across the living room to her computer desk. Her empty computer desk.

"Where is it?" she demanded, her voice thick with threatening tears.

"Easy," Nolan soothed, taking her by the shoulders. "Look—Kateri, look at me."

She spun to face him. "Did you take it?"

"Of course not! But ... then who did? No one could have gotten in here, could they? Not without one of us knowing. Marnie, at the very least."

She bit her lip. Her nose had gone red and several fat tears tracked down her cheeks. Nolan glanced at the computer desk, where Virtual Canvas was supposed to be. Had it been there when he left to get groceries this morning? He hadn't really looked. But it didn't make sense that someone had taken it. Who would break into Kateri's apartment—without anyone else noticing—to take only a laptop?

Kateri sniffed. She seemed a little calmer, but the tears were still going. Nolan bent and gently kissed a couple of them away.

"It doesn't make sense," she said quietly, her voice still choked. "It—it can't just be gone. Computers don't just disappear into thin air. How can it—I don't even know where it came from to begin with! How will I find a new one?"

"Maybe you don't need a new one."

She blinked up at him, her eyelashes wet and spiky from the tears. Nolan took a deep breath, trying not to think too hard about how strange this was. The whole computer was strange, with its eerily realistic mascot and the effect it had on Kateri.

He put an arm around her shoulders and urged her back towards the counter, where their food and coffee was getting cold. After last night everything seemed to be going so well; he couldn't let this ruin that. She's finally happy again, he thought, righting her stool and helping her back onto it. I won't let anything take that away. If she couldn't get over losing the computer, he'd just have to figure out a way to find another one. But he had to try talking her down first.

"What will I do without it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"The same thing we did yesterday," Nolan replied. "Paint. Yeah, the computer is useful, and I'm sure we can find another one you like to work with. But you can work on real canvases, Kateri, and you should."

"But my father—"

"Screw your father. And the goddamn high horse he rode in on. I don't care how brilliant an artist he is, he's still an asshole. What you can do now is just as good as what you used to do—it's just different, that's all. If he can't accept that, he can go take a nice long walk off a short pier. I like what you do, I like you just the way you are, and I don't care if you use a computer or paintbrushes or a damn paintball gun, as long as you're happy. So forget your father. Do what's good for you."

Kateri stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Nolan flushed. Lord, didn't mean to make a speech, he thought. Though ... think that's the most I've ever gotten out of my mouth without stumbling over my words ... Now he just had to hope he hadn't put his foot in it—again. No matter what she might say, Kateri loved her father. The last thing he needed now was to make her angry at him for talking trash.

She turned slowly, her expression still stunned. After a moment—an unbearably long moment, the silence stretching out between them—she picked up her fork and focused on her pancakes. Nolan let out a sigh of relief and retrieved his own fork.

"I'll need your help," she murmured, staring down at her plate. "I—I don't know how hard this will be, trying to be an artist again. Especially without—Icelos. I'm not sure I can do this..."

"Well, I'm sure you can," Nolan said, reaching for the French press. "And eventually you'll see that I'm right."

And she looked at him, a brave, slightly watery smile on her face. "Yeah, well ... law of averages. It has to happen eventually."

-------

Kateri leaned her shoulder into the studio door, pushing it open. She knew as soon as she looked inside that it would be a showdown. Every face in the studio turned to look at her, including, of course, her father. He wore a smug smile—natch.

"Well, Mr. Adaire, late as..." He trailed off, his smile fading away to shock.

"Mornin', pops," Kateri said brightly. She pushed the door back, allowing Nolan to cart in the giant canvas. "Sorry, but I borrowed Nolan this morning. Well, actually last night," she paused a heartbeat to grin at the other students, "but I needed him today too. Figured you wouldn't mind."

"W-What?" her father stammered.

"Where do you want this?" Nolan asked.

"Oh, towards the back, so we won't interfere with everyone else." She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, love."

"No problem."

While Nolan set up her spot, she headed across the studio floor. Though she'd left her hoodie behind today, she had her hands jammed in the pockets of her jean shorts. Kateri worked to appear cool, calm, even though on the inside her stomach churned with fear. Could she really do this? She looked at Nolan, who chose that moment to glance up from his work and smile encouragingly. Yes, she thought, breathing easier. Yes, I can do this.

Icelos would tell her she could, as well. Though she didn't quite understand what had happened—where Virtual Canvas came from, where it disappeared to—she couldn't live as if it had never been in her life. She didn't believe too much in the supernatural usually, but no one could've stolen the computer. It had entered and exited her life—somehow—of its own accord and she'd have to deny its existence entirely to deny that.

Her father moved to intercept her—no surprise there. Like with everything else in his—and her—life, he wanted desperately to control the situation. Must be hard on him, Kateri thought, knowing that he's losing control completely now. Yet again she looked at Nolan; not for what to do, just for reassurance. There was at least one person in the room who would back her up.

"What are you doing?" her father hissed, glowering.

"Knitting?" Kateri suggested, smiling sweetly. "I'd think it would be obvious, dad."

His eyes widened. He darted a glance around the room, horrified by how loud she spoke. "Keep your voice down! Kateri, you cannot—"

"Yes, yes I can," she retorted, not lowering her voice even a smidgen. "What are you so afraid of, dad? That I might do, oh, this?"

She took a deep breath and drew her hands from her pockets. Most of the class tried to stifle their gasps; few succeeded. Her father looked absolutely apoplectic. He shifted from foot to foot, staring at her wide-eyed, gazing at her hands as if he wanted to cover them up but couldn't bear the idea of touching them. Kateri turned to the students and raised her hands, making sure they could all see.

"Sometimes in life bad things happen. We all know that," she said. "And sometimes people do bad things to others. This is what someone did to me. For three years I let it stop me from doing what I love most. I let people," here she shot a look at her father, "beat me down long after the attack was over. That ends today."

She dropped her hands. Suddenly she felt lighter, as if all the weight had been taken from her shoulders. She smiled back at all the shocked faces, then spun on her heel and went to Nolan, to her canvas. Nolan watched her, a broad, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face. He pulled a spare bandana from his pocket as she approached.

Her father came after her, sputtering. "You—you—this boy!" he snarled, pointing a finger at Nolan. "He's a bad influence!"

Nolan pointed at himself, his brows knit in an expression of mock indignation, and mouthed 'Me?' at Kateri's father.

"Whoa, dad, chill," Kateri said, shaking her head. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not a kid anymore, and that means I can have whatever bad influence I want."

"You say the sweetest things," Nolan said with a chuckle. He began pulling her hair back with the bandana.

"You—if it weren't for him, you would never—"

"Stop listening to you? Have a mind—a life—of my own again? Maybe, maybe not."

Her father stood a step back, still wild-eyed and desperate. "This—you can't just—I won't have you—you should not be..."

"It's none of your goddamn business," Kateri snapped, her patience worn thin. "Enough is enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do and you have a class to teach. And you know what they say, dad: Those who can't do, teach. So go do what you're capable of and leave me be."

She turned away. Nolan got dragged along with her, grumbling as he tried to get the bandana tied. Kateri heard whispers, heard her father behind her still trying to find words. Finally she heard him walking away and felt a surge of triumph. After all these years under his thumb, she was back in control. Pleased, she reached for a tube of the brightest yellow paint she had; Nolan had helped her find it at the art store earlier that day.

One of her father's students—a woman, she thought, but couldn't be sure—shouted, "You go, girl."

The entire room broke into applause. Kateri peered over her shoulder at them in amazement. They quieted quickly, of course, when her father glowed at them. But she noticed Tina give her a quick thumbs-up before turning back to her canvas.

"I am so proud of you," Nolan murmured in her ear. He squeezed yellow paint onto the palette and pushed it into her reach.

"Dad's not."

"Oh well."

"Yep." She grinned. "Hey, look at that, Nolan. You were right. I could do this after all."

"Like you said, princess. Law of averages."


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The End
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Posted:  2010-06-09
Last Modified: 2010-07-08 / 09:32:06 am
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