C13 An Historical Mirror

Sophia gave her all to her job, and the confusion in her head was reflected in the charcoal strokes on the canvas.

The lines reflected an effort to block out the uncertainties, the rumors, and strange things happening around her.

She thought about Lucas's explanations, which were both ambiguous and full of conviction.

But Shirley's cautions had a different significance. She became restless due to the tug between the two, and the only thing that gave her any clarity was her work.

It was getting close to dusk, around the middle of the afternoon, when the light in her studio changed.

Her focus was broken by a loud knock on the door.

Lucas's voice called out from the other end, "Sophia, it's me."

Her heart pounding, she paused. She wasn't sure she was prepared to confront him once more after everything.

But she couldn't avoid him indefinitely. “Come in,” she replied, her voice reflecting her uneasiness.

Lucas came inside, his presence filling the room. Wearing a fitted coat, he scrutinized her with an unreadable face. "You've been very busy," he said, pointing to the incomplete canvas.

Sophia used a rag to clean her hands, trying to force herself to feel calm. "Art doesn't wait for clarification."

Lucas's eyes were stern, but he gave a small smile. "You're correct. However, responses can occasionally alter our perspective on everything.”

She cocked her head cautiously. "Is that your reason for being here? To provide me with more riddled, enigmatic responses?”

"This time, no," he said. "I have something I want to show you."

Sophia scowled. "Show me what?"

"Something private. Something I’ve never shared with anyone else.” His statements provoked a mix of interest and dread.

She groaned after a moment ."All right. Where are we heading?”

Lucas took her hand and began to swing it playfully, “You'll see, won't you?”

Smiling, Sophia withdrew her hand and went to have a change of clothes while Lucas waited, admiring her sketches.

***********************************************

Silently, Lucas drove as the urban landscape gave way to the industrial fringes.

They arrived at a deserted warehouse, its dilapidated façade concealing whatever mysteries might be inside. "What is this location?" As she got out of the car, Sophia questioned.

Lucas took a while to respond. Rather, he unlocked the hefty doors and creaked them open. The dim light inside showed sculptures and rows of covered canvases strewn about the room.

In a respectful tone, he declared, "It's my most private collection. Pieces I created myself over the years but never shared with the world.”

Sophia’s eyes opened as she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the space.

There was a slight smell of oil paint and dust in the air. She looked to Lucas for approval before moving closer to one of the covered canvases.

"All right," he said quietly.

A striking painting of a stormy sea was visible when she peeled back the cloth. The scene was so realistic that she could really hear the boom as the waves crashed against rocky boulders.

"This is amazing," she whispered. Lucas grinned with a rare look of vulnerability.

"My haven has always been art. I've kept parts of myself there that I couldn't show people.

Sophia proceeded to one canvas after another, each of which displayed a piece of Lucas's soul.

She had never seen this side of him before, and the collection was honest, poignant, and intensely personal. "You have a lot of talent," she said softly. "Why is all of this being kept secret?"

“Because it’s not for anyone,” Lucas murmured, his expression remote. "Fame and recognition are not the focus of this compilation. It has to do with the truth.”

Sophia hesitated, her fingers touching the edge of another cloth. “And what truth are you hiding here?”

Lucas remained silent. Rather, he pointed to a canvas that was hidden in a corner. "That one."

At the height of her interest, Sophia walked over to the picture Lucas pointed at. But instead of removing the cover cloth and looking at it, she moved past it to another canvas.

Lucas frowned, wondering how to stop her, but before he could come up with an excuse, Sophia had yanked the cover cloth off that particular canvas.

Her throat tightened with each breath. She looked just like the woman in the artwork. It was similar to the one she saw at his residence when he showed her where her own piece would be placed.

Even the intense stare, the dark hair flow, and the delicate features bore an amazing likeness. The figure in the artwork, however, had a distinct, ethereal quality. Lucas Hawke was signed at the bottom of the canvas.

Sophia's voice wavered as she turned to face him. "What is this? Why does she resemble me? Like the one back at your estate?”

Lucas's jaw tightened as his face grew serious. "That's not what it is."

"Then tell me about it." Her emotions threatened to overtake her, she demanded.

Lucas stepped forward, his eyes sharp. “Long before I met you, years ago, this artwork was completed. The similarity... I am unable to explain it. However, I think it has some significance.”

With her head spinning, Sophia shook her head. “There's no logic behind that. Do you think this is a coincidence of some sort?”

Lucas paused, his stillness only making her discomfort worse. He finally said, "I don't know. But ever since I painted her, I've been looking for answers. After that, I met you.”

Sophia's heart pounded as she gazed at him. With the weight of his words bearing down on her like a storm on its way, the room felt as though it were closing in on her.