C24 Camille, The Loving Wife

As Sophia's fingers wrapped around the key Lucas had given her, they shook. She looked up into his face, which was a mixture of resignation and another expression she couldn't quite make out.

Her voice was hardly audible above a whisper when she asked, "Are you sure about this?"

He stated plainly, "You wanted answers."

"All right." After a brief pause, Sophia inserted the key into the lock. The door creaked open with a gentle click, revealing a dimly illuminated room.

Inside, the subtle smell of varnish and wood shavings blended with something characteristically Lucas—warm, comfortable, and completely disarming.

Breathing heavily as her eyes adapted to the low light, she entered. The were different sculptures in the chamber, stunning, detailed works that appeared to capture moments in time. They were all about a woman.

Sophia gaped, surprised by the awesome works before her. Who was this though? Preserved in marble, clay, and wood.

One of the scriptures depicted a woman reading while perched on a bench.

Another focused on the same woman intently, leaning over an easel. It was almost unreal how well one piece, a gorgeous bust carved from marble, reflected her likeness.

The silence was broken by her voice. "What is this, Lucas?"

Shutting the door behind him, he entered. "I've been working on this for years."

Sophia turned to face him, feeling a mixture of wonder and perplexity. "Who is she? How long have you been doing this and why do you have it locked up here?”

With his hands in his pockets, Lucas leaned against the doorframe and explained, “What you're looking at is a project I have been working on for a few years now. It is a collection of sculptures inspired by the life of Camille.”

Sophia blinked, “Your late wife?”

“Yes,” Lucas answered nodding. His face became withdrawn, even sad that Sophia wondered if she made the right choice by insisting on entering the room.

But if there was nothing sinister going on, why then did he make such a fuss over it?

“I’m sorry Lucas. But why hide it away here? And what's with the negative energy on this floor?”

Lucas gave a thin smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “You're being paranoid, there's nothing with this floor. I only separated it because it holds the memory of my beloved wife.” He paused, then added, “And this,” he pointed to the sculptures, “is not something just anyone is supposed to see.”

Sophia drew a long breath, “You loved her very much?”

“Of course,” Lucas replied without hesitation. “She was my first love. I met when I had nothing. My family business was ruined, and I was struggling. There was a filthy rich guy who wanted her then-–but she chose me.”

“Wow,” Sophia breathed looking down. When she looked up, she asked, “How did she die?”

Lucas shifted his weight from one leg to the other and said in a tone that left no room for debate, “That's a story for another day. You wanted to know what was behind this door and now you do.”

Sophia was about to nod in agreement when a thought flashed through her mind. She looked at him squarely, her gaze sharp as she asked, pointing to the sculptures, “Was this the real reason you hired me? Was this what Shirley meant by you having an ulterior motive?”

“Shirley is delusional. Even if I wanted you to work on this, it would be just another job….at least to you. So there's nothing special there.”

Sophia squinted her eyes at him, unconvinced. But there was nothing she could do. Her fingers brushed the marble bust's smooth surface, she returned her attention to the sculptures.

The woman—Camille must have been a beauty, but more than looks, she seemed to be remarkable, choosing love over wealth. How many women can do that?

Lucas must have loved and respected her so much. What a loss for him. The sound of Lucas's voice interrupted her thoughts as she continued staring at the sight in front of her.

“Strangely, you remind me of her. Your hard work, dedication, resilience….it's rare in ladies of this generation. I respect it.”

His remarks caused her cheeks to blush, but she was also feeling uneasy. Nodding curtly, she started walking inside the room when she noticed something on a shelf.

Tucked discreetly among the statues is a little box. In contrast to the other items' grandeur, it felt out of place. She reached for it and asked, "What is this?"

Lucas tensed. "Wait, Sophia—"

She had opened it, though. Photographs, notes, and a newspaper clipping were among the items that filled her eyes.

A picture of her with Shirley Westbrook, taken at the gallery opening years prior that signaled the beginning of her slide, caught her attention.

When Sophia took up the newspaper piece, her hands trembled. It described the plagiarism charges that Shirley had contrived and the scandal that had all but wrecked her career.

Her voice trembled as she turned to Lucas. "Why do you have this?"

His jaw tensed as he averted his gaze.

"Lucas," she insisted, taking a step forward. "Why do you possess these items? Are you aware of my past circumstances? Sophia felt her stomach turn, and a bile rose in her throat as he fell silent.